The Wanderers Club

My mother was very strict on manners, and I have found that it now comes quite naturally to me. So let me be polite and start by introducing myself. I am a cat. My name is Garfield and my home address is The Wanderers Club, North Street, Johannesburg. My mother’s name was Gogo and I always believed that my father’s name was Tim. I never knew my father, but my mother spoke very lovingly of him. I was quite a few years old before I realised that what my mother was really calling him was TM. On questioning her about this strange acronym, she somewhat reluctantly told me that the letters stood for Travelling Man. She, even more reluctantly, told me that he had been travelling through the Club grounds on his way home when they met, very briefly, took a shine to each other and a little while later I was born. Enough said. My mother was a gentle lady, but a very good improviser, and she settled us into an adequate home in a little-used storeroom near the tennis courts. Fortunately the shrubbery provided us with an abundant supply of rats, mice and lizards, and there was a dripping tap nearby for water. So our basic needs were taken care of.

I have no idea what is involved in the game of tennis, but I must say that the people who came to play were very friendly, and I soon learned that I had nothing to fear from them; in fact quite the reverse. When I became brave enough to rub myself, very carefully, against their legs they responded with exclamations of delight, stroking my back, patting my sides and even lifting me up and holding me. When my gentle mother ventured nearer, she too was treated with this friendliness. And then I heard someone say: ‘’I wonder if Brenda knows about these two? I’ll have a word with her.’’ My mother and I looked at each other and I knew she was thinking the same as I was ‘’who is this Brenda? And what can we expect now?’’ But we need not have worried. Brenda came to see us the next day and explained that she had been feeding the cats at The Wanderers Club for many years, but had not known about my mother and me. She then went on to say: ‘’so we’re going to be friends from now on. You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Let’s start by saying that you, big fellow, are going to be called Garfield, and you, little old lady, are going to be called Gogo. In case you didn’t know it, Gogo is the Zulu word for grandmother. Okay?’’ She was quite a bossy woman, this Brenda, but I must say she made some jolly good arrangements for us. Two empty apple boxes were placed in the storeroom, with soft towels in them, brand new food and water bowls were placed alongside them, the door was permanently wedged ajar with a chunk of concrete, and, most importantly, she filled these bowls with food and water every single day. It took a little getting used to food that came out of a tin, but it certainly was a lot better than what we had been eating previously. I still hunted rates and mice, just to keep my hand in, but I let them go when I had had enough of the fun.

This situation continued for a long time. I heard Brenda telling someone that it was eight years since she had started caring for us, but time meant little to me. We had our ups and downs in that time, like the occasion when I slipped off the change room roof and Brenda rushed me off to the vet to get my damaged paw attended to, and the other time when she took me to the vet, without telling me why, and he had put me to sleep while he did something to me. I found this strange, but being a polite chap, I asked no questions. And then came the awful day when my mother took ill. She had not been quite herself for some time, and I know Brenda was worried because I heard her coaxing my mother to eat. But on this particular day she was too sick to get out of her box, and when Brenda came to feed us, she stroked and petted my mother before lifting her carefully into a basket and taking her away. I never saw my mother again and when Brenda came to feed me the following day she took me onto her lap and told me that my mother had died. The tears were running down Brenda’s cheeks as she spoke and when I tried to lick them away, she cried even more. I think she must have really loved my mother, as I did too.

Perhaps I was getting middle-aged and a little irritable about this time, because I suddenly found that the shrieking from the tennis courts, particularly from the children being coached each afternoon, was beginning to get on my nerves. I knew my way around the Club grounds pretty well, so I did a bit of a recce up towards the bowling greens. Bowlers don’t shriek- I think they’re a bit old for that sort of thing. I watched from a distance for a while and then I saw Brenda playing, so I wandered over towards her. ‘’Garfield, what on earth are doing up here?’’ she asked, picking me up and kissing me. I had got used to this cuddling and kissing stuff by this time, and I found I actually quite liked it. ‘’Looks, folks, this is gorgeous Garfield that I’ve told you about. Isn’t he lovely?’’ I was quite embarrassed by the attention I got, but I responded suitably.

For about a fortnight I continued to eat and sleep down at the tennis courts, but I spent most of my daylight hours in the area around the bowling greens. Then Brenda told me that she was going to move my quarters up to the bowling greens. ‘’I’ve got an asbestos cement kennel for you,’’ she explained, ‘’and we’ll put some nice soft blankets in it, and tuck it away here behind the summer house. You’re going to be very happy here with us.’’

Well, that was three years ago, and Brenda could not have been more correct. I’ve never been happier in my life. I have a host of new friends. They’re kind to me, they spoil me with nibbles and treats in addition to my regular food, they talk to me, and I think I can go so far as to say that some of them even love me. I know one thing for certain, and that is that I have never been happier in my life.

Author: Mr Alfred (Sonny) Kahn (87 years old), Wanderers Club Member since January 1937


I read with much interest the article from George Cohen which you published and although I cannot compete with him in relation to the tenure of our membership at Wanderers we are both very long standing active members and old personal friends. It is interesting to record that my maternal grandparents who arrived from England in the 1880’s and George’s parents were life-long friends.

Before and subsequent to my election to the Wanderers Club as a junior member I used to watch my grandfather playing bowls at the Old Wanderers Club adjacent to Park Station. In those days the bowling greens were on the northern extremity of the Club premises bordering on Wolmarans Street.

With hardly an exception I was a spectator on Sunday afternoons to watch baseball and in particular to be intrigued by the witticism and sportsmanship of Bertie Price. I think that Bertie was more personally instrumental in drawing spectators to the baseball than the team for which he played.

In the latter part of Bertie’s life he became an ardent bowler (as a member of the Houghton Bowling Club) and if my memory serves me correctly, he was selected to play for Southern Transvaal in an Inter-District tournament.

In any event I had very many pleasant experiences with Bertie when we played bowls together at the Houghton Club and in the same way in which he was entertaining as a baseballer so much more so was he unique in his bowls activity specifically in a sporting environment. But his contribution to the overall camaraderie of his wonderful competitive game was unforgettable.

Before the War started in 1939, my father who until then was a Wanderers member but also a golfer at Houghton (where he was a foundation proprietary member) joined my grandfather as a bowler at the Old Wanderers Club and my dad was considered a good player. In those days he was associated with some of the nationally renowned Wanderers bowlers such as the Lawson’s, Van Oordt’s, the Lobban’s and Bob Coats. Again I believe I am correct in proudly recalling that my father won the Wanderers Single Championship on four occasions, the first of which was before the Club move from town to where it is presently situated which at that stage was known as “Kent Park” and somewhat adversely criticised by the Wanderers members as being out in the country side.

An abiding personal memory was when as a youngster at the age of twelve I was invited by my cousin, whose name was Elias Hart, at that stage in his early 20’s, to join him as a spectator at the Wanderers Club to watch the test match against Australia which was a four day game played from the 24th to 28th December 1935. Amongst the famous Australian team cricketers was Vic Richardson (captain) and fellows like Jack Fingleton, Bill Brown, Stan McCabe, Bert Oldfield (behind the stumps) and two of the all time great Australian spinners, Clarrie Grimmett and Bill (Tiger) O’Reilly. In the South African side I clearly recall Bruce Mitchell, Eric Rowan, Dudley Nourse, Dooley Briscoe, Herbie Wade (captain) and Bob Crisp our opening seam bowler.

Incidentally on the other side of the Wanderers ”A” ground situated behind the clubhouse was another large sports ground but peculiarly it wasn’t part of the Wanderers Club but it was then the Pirates Club which incidentally still exists near Greenside in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. It was on that ground where we as school boys from K.E.S. attended net practice every Sunday morning and our coach was none other than the famous Eric Rowan albeit that he himself was a Jeppe High School old boy.

Within the confines of the Main Wanderers Clubhouse was a magnificent gymnasium which I attended as a junior Wanderers member and the gym instructor was a man who served the Wanderers Club for many years Mr Viera. I wonder how many of the present Wanderers members remember him and in particular his gymnastic expertise.

The Wanderers Main Clubhouse in which the members and their guests were accommodated was situated on the west side of the ground and therefore broadside onto the wicket.

From my point of view the greatest moment was during the lunch interval when all the players and members and their guests partook of lunch in the same dining room. This was an awesome opportunity to meet the contestants and for me as a youngster to obtain all their autographs.

During South Africa’s second innings, Dudley Nourse scored 231 runs, but it was an hilarious drunk sitting under the main scoreboard on the east side of the ground who shouted in a voice which could be heard all over the ground “You will never get him out” after every single ball bowled to Dudley Nourse. Nourse was at the wicket for the best part of two days and this inebriated voice boomed across the ground throughout the entire innings. It was extremely humorous and he had the spectators in fits of laughter. For many years thereafter it became a “war cry” whenever a South African batsman was performing in a test match.

We thought that South Africa would win that test but to their credit in Australia’s second innings Stan McCabe scored 180 runs not out and participated with Jack Fingleton and Len Darling in forcing a draw.

I think it will be of great interest to your readers to examine the complete details of that match which I have extracted from the internet and is enclosed herewith.

Incidentally my cousin Elias Hart was killed in the tank-core in Italy in 1943 and his name is commemorated with others who gave their lives in both World Wars on the magnificent war memorial which the Club has erected on the west-side of the Clubhouse facing the car park.

My own primary sporting activity was golf which I played at Houghton Golf Club followed by some 30 odd years of competitive and administrative bowls there. I am a life member of Houghton Golf Club as indeed I am also an honorary life member of the Wanderers.

I became an official bowls umpire and coach and it is of interest that George Cohen and I jointly pursued the concept of inaugurating bowls as a sport at schoolboy and schoolgirl level. We were of the opinion that the future of this great game of bowls could be assured by introducing participants to the game at grassroots level. We also realised that in most schools more than 60% of the pupils do not participate in any sport whatsoever either because they are not up to standard technically or they are not happy to play contact sport. The two of us assisted by Donny Piketh a springbok player addressed the school bots at two of the Johannesburg northern suburbs high schools during their break and by permission of their respective head masters we encouraged many of them to indicate in writing that they would be interested in pursuing bowls as a sport which could be contested in team categories at each school and which would also create subsequent opportunities of becoming inter-district and international competitors.

Initially we had a fairly large number of youngsters who turned out at the Wanderers on a Sunday afternoon where we introduced them to the technique of bowls but more importantly got them playing without much delay in singles and pairs. We felt that we would prefer to exclude trips and fours because we were afraid that this would not give youngsters sufficient activity.

Our Sunday endeavours had per force to be moved out to Northcliff where we continued for some weeks coaching and encouraging the youngsters amongst whom we found great enthusiasm and enjoyment. There were however technical difficulties in carrying on with the Sunday afternoon school boys and girls bowling programme, but having proved its viability the concept was introduced in general to the Executive of the South African Bowling Association. We tried to encourage that body to inaugurate school competitive bowls on a provincial and national basis but unfortunately the task was apparently too extensive for them to undertake. We are still of the opinion that the game of bowls would have thrived throughout the country both from a short and long term prospective had the South African Bowling Association pursued our recommendation and at this stage the game would have been thriving. Unfortunately we are now witnessing an overall decline in bowling activity to the extent to which it has become a sport which has been relegated to an increasingly inferior category – much to be regretted!

By JOHN O'CONNOR

According to the Wanderers Centenary Souvenir Handbook, Arthur Ruben was responsible for uplifting the club emblem from an Olympic medal, which he saw at the 1908 Games. He suggested the adoption as a crest for the Wanderers badge. After a competition, in which there were thirty-one entries. Arthur Ruben’s design of a Roman chariot was accepted.

This may well be the case, but I believe that the emblem came from the reverse of a Stater struck by Philip II of Macedon and was known as Philippeioi. This coin was very popular and was accepted in all areas and countries where trade and commerce was carried out, even as far as Gaul (France) and ancient Britain.

Among numismatologists it is regarded as the forerunner of the British sovereign. Even after Philip’s death in 336 BC, Macedon continued minting the coin in large quantities.

It was in 356 BC that Philip managed to conquer and bring under his rule the City States of Thrace, Thebes, Athens, Corinth, etc, from which to create an army which would enable him to throw off the yoke of dominance exerted by the Persians.

After his assassination in 336 BC, his son Alexander the Great carried out the attack on the Persians and defeated Darius the Great at the battle of Granicus. He went on to conquer the Persian Empire, Egypt and the rest of the civilised Asian world.

Philip’s principal coin, being the Stater, was used to pay his soldiers and to finance his assault on Persia.

On the obverse is the laureate head of Apollo, the god of manly youth, sunlight, poetry and music.

On the reverse is a two horse chariot, or biga, with galloping horses driven by a boy jockey, to commemorate his victories at Olympia in 352/348 BC, together with his name Philip (Piairroy)

From the foregoing and the accompanying photographs, it can be seen and be conclusively accepted that the theme for the Wanderers badge was copied from the Stater commemorating Philip’s victories at Olympia and I think it is a worthy emblem for a prestigious sporting club.


June 1992