SPLIT WATERMAN
We look back on the life of one of motorcycle racing’s most colourful and entertaining characters
Looking back on the life of one of speedway’s most colourful and entertaining characters
With film-star looks and a daredevil personality, Squire Francis ‘Split’ Waterman was one of the speedway greats who helped drive thousands of spectators to the cinder tracks in the immediate post-war period. This largerthan-life character was also involved in several brushes with officialdom – one of which brought the fans out to protest in dramatic style.
In 1952, among the bowler hat-wearing, austere-suited businessmen in Pall Mall, London, were a group of men protesting outside the RAC headquarters wearing sandwich boards which read: ‘Fair Play for Split Waterman’. Waterman was appearing before a Speedway Control Board of Inquiry on July 8, for walking out of a British Match Race against Jack Young at West Ham the previous month. The court ‘severely reprimanded’ Split and he was warned as to his future conduct.
Waterman, who died in his sleep on Tuesday, October 8, was no stranger to challenging authority in both the sport in which he made his name or in Civvy Street. Nevertheless, the protest illustrates what a superstar he was in speedway – even in today’s proactive world of social media, it’s doubtful any of today’s sporting stars would enjoy similar support.
With his film star looks (he was likened to movie idol Errol Flynn in his day) and a wicked twinkle in his eye,
Waterman was more than just a world-class speedway rider – he was a glamorous character who was loved by supporters and the press alike. Stories of his escapades – some true, many fabricated – followed him around. When he was in town, there was always going to be excitement. Waterman was born in New Malden, south-west London on July 27, 1923, and was initially a toolmaker’s apprentice
before the outbreak of war. He joined the Royal Fusiliers and was posted to North Africa where he was involved in the Allied invasion of Italy, participating in one of the pivotal engagements at Monte Casino in 1944. He recounted combat with a German paratrooper in which it was a ‘him or me’ situation and admitted that, even though he wasn’t of a religious disposition, his taking of another life encouraged him to prayer. During the engagement he suffered shrapnel wounds which removed him from the front line and he was transferred to the Royal Electrical Mechanical Engineers (REME).
“They put up a notice asking for people who could ride motorcycles, so I put my name down,” recalled Waterman. “We did a 100-mile road race from Naples and I won it – more by luck than judgment – then we started speedway in a running stadium. And I started winning things there.
“They gave me a set of leathers, but the stitching wasn’t very good. I went out on my first day and split them back to front. They used to call me ‘Split Arse’. Of course they couldn’t call me ‘Split Arse’ on the speedway, so they just called me ‘Split’.”
On being posted to Germany, his commanding officer, Major Fenwick, recognised Waterman’s motorcycle talents and, having served with Wembley’s team manager Alec Jackson earlier in the conflict, Fenwick wrote to him recommending Squire. He had some leave due and presented himself to Jackson, who sent him to Rye House where he spent most of his leave racing around Rye.
He joined the Wembley Lions and, technically, he was still in the army as he made his Empire Stadium debut on May 8, 1947. He was officially demobbed the next day.
Split helped Wembley to two league titles in 1947 and ’49, and he won the prestigious London Riders’ Championship in 1948. Jackson also noted that such was his engaging and cheerful personality that he contributed enormously to the team spirit.
By now a regular choice for England (he captained the side against Australia in ’53), in 1950 he moved to Harringay for a transfer fee of £3000 – a record at the time – and qualified for his first world final, finishing seventh.
Very much at the forefront of the new generation of post-war stars who had come out of the forces looking for further adventure, a year later he faced Jack Young and Jack Biggs in a run-off for the world title. Waterman didn’t make the best of starts in the run-off – and by the time he’d passed Biggs, Young was too far ahead to be overhauled.
The next season he’d relieved Jack Parker of his ‘pension’ by winning the British Match Race Championship. He entered the 1951-52 close season as the holder and began the following year with a successful defence over Jack Young – but the authorities took Waterman’s title away when he was sideline by injury.
This led to his appearance before the SCB at the RAC’S Pall Mall HQ. He was selected to face Jack Young as the June challenger and in the first race Young dived down the inside of his rival and Waterman came off. The race was stopped and it was announced that Split would be fit for the rerun, which he won. On his return to the pits, he was astonished to find that the initial staging had been awarded to Young and it was now 1-1, and not 1-0 in his favour.
Naturally, he protested and was so angered that he walked out. The ensuing furore meant he had to have a police escort to leave West Ham. He was punished for his indiscretion, yet the Speedway Control Board were not quite done with reminding him that they held the ultimate power.
On September 6, he crashed at Bradford, badly fracturing his knee and knocking out two front teeth. Alarmingly, he then faced a drastic situation when two surgeons began
‘THE SURGEONS WERE GOING TO TAKE MY LEG OFF!’
arguing over who should carry out what they thought was necessary treatment. “They were going to take my leg off,” said Waterman. “The argument was who was going to do the operation! The knee was so bad, apparently, that they thought amputation was the best thing to do.”
Fortunately, Harringay boss, Wal Phillips, and Split’s future wife, Avril, hastily stepped in and he was transferred to the Royal Northern in London where his knee (and the rest of the limb) was saved – although forever afterward his shattered knee troubled him.
In 1953 he had to settle for world championship silver again. This time he entered his final race unbeaten and met Fred Williams (who had dropped just one point) and Olle Nygren. Unfortunately, Waterman’s clutch was playing up and he made a less-than-brilliant start. His rivals crowded him out on the first turn and a second runner-up place was entered by his name in the history books.
After Harringay’s closure he rode for a succession of clubs, including West Ham, another year at Wembley, Wimbledon, Southampton, New Cross, and a few weeks with Belle Vue and Ipswich before calling time on his career at the end of 1962.
Squire Waterman went into the sheet metal business and injection moulding, producing plastic kits for Airfix among others. He admitted his high-profile status afforded him some privileges that cemented his rakish reputation.
“The people who worked at Wembley were ex-old Bill,” Split revealed in a book called
Speedway: The Greatest Moments. “And that’s how I used to get out of trouble. What sort of trouble? You name it, I’ve done it.”
Five years after hanging up his leathers, his old contacts were powerless to prevent him from being sentenced at the Old Bailey to four years imprisonment for gold smuggling and illegal arms possession (see right).
However, on being released, he married long-time sweetheart Avril Priston in Caxton Hall, London in 1970, and moved to Nerja on Spain’s Costa del Sol, although he would, periodically, return to England on business.
He once said of his career: “I was quite happy with what I did. I just liked racing. What I liked more than anything was winning.”