Anna Wilding is a director, producer ,actress
and public speaker. She has been published as freelance writer in print
press and recently directed and presented the critically acclaimed
feature “Buddha Wild Monk a in a Hut” (http://www.buddhawild.com).Anna Wilding is the great niece of tennis champ Tony Wilding http://www.Anthonywilding.com/
The US Open is upon us once again. I am excited. It is the first
time I have been to the US Open in New York. I have seen major tennis
tournaments in Melbourne and at Wimbledon, but this year will be my
first US Open.
Why am I excited? Aside from having been a player myself, and had
considered entering some USTA national tournaments this year, until an
injury forced me not too and, distressingly, possibly off the court for
good - my great uncle, Captain Tony Wilding won the Wimbledon men’s
singles title for four straight years from 1910 to 1913. So beat that
all you Borgs and Samparases, and Fedrerer’s! Oh yeah right, three of
you did in fact beat his record. HA! Wilding also won the doubles and
mixed doubles.
In the days of boat and steamer travel, Anthony Wilding, even played
at the hallowed grounds of Forest Hills. He was beaten in a showdown by
the California “Comet” Maurice McLoughlin. My “Uncle Tony” actually
played his last match in America at Forest Hills, before being killed
in the war in 1915 at the tender age of 32. In that time, he also won
bronze at the Olympics. He died with no children. He was about to marry
American actor, silent screen star, Maxine Elliot.
Wilding was inducted into the International Hall of Tennis Fame at
Newport, Rhode Island in 1978. Sadly, we, the closest surviving
relatives, never got word of this great honor. I found out about it
only in the last decade through my own inquiries. I have yet to visit.
In the New York Times in 1915, W. De B. Whyte wrote under the
headline:- “Anthony Wilding: A Gallant and Generous Sportsman and A
Brave Gentleman” - the following; “The war has exacted an appallingly
heavy toll among the best and bravest athletes of the British Empire,
but I believe none who will be more sincerely regretted in this country
can be found in that ever-increasing roll of honor than the late Tony
Wilding. In tennis he was always the soul of honor; as courteous and
gallant a player as ever set foot in an American court. He was the last
man ever to excuse himself for poor form or indifferent play. He took
his defeat of McLoughlin last summer with the best of good grace,
without stopping to explain, as well he might have the heavy handicap
and severe strain under which he was playing…..to do his best under
these circumstances must have been impossible; yet no word or
explanation came from him and if Norman Brooks has not told me I should
never have known of them……American players….they will never meet a more
worthy opponent, a finer sportsman or a braver gentleman. “
I had occasion to visit Forest Hills, the old courts in Queens where
he played, for the first time last year. I was hoping to find remanents
of his life. It’s a long way from New Zealand , my birthplace, and his.
In 2005, I went overland to Flanders from Dover, through Calais to
find Tony’s grave from World War I. I spent several days there and was
followed by an Italian journalist.
We stayed in small bed and breakfasts. I didn’t have much information
to go on - it was literally the slender details of the burial site in
A. Wallis Myers biography on Tony that was published decades ago - (and
yes, we are republishing it in time, so check this site for details)
It was literally a matter of trying to find old French villages that
weren’t on any map that I could find. I did find his grave, and it had
been moved. I was thankful he was one of several hundred thousand
soldiers in the region, who had a name on his gravestone. Many did not.
It was tragic to read on a gravestone “An Unknown Soldier “of World War
I. Gives one pause, as every soldier has a family and or friends.
Stefano Semarro, the Italian sports writer and I came up with, wrote
an entertaining feature article that was published in Europe and
England about my journey.
When I visited Forest Hills, it was on a summer day last year. I had
just moved to New York. Tony didn’t play the US Championships there. He
did, however, play the Davis Cup there.
I couldn’t find a photograph of Tony in the Forest Hills clubhouse
so I went on a journey to the depths of the old stadium. I wanted to
buy the stadium on the spot. This place of former victory now lies in
ruins and is disused in a pretty tree lined part of Queens. My mind
pinged with ideas. The empty wallet of reality soon quelled those
thoughts and so I continued on. I went around, and up and down, all
through the stadium focusing on finding history of Tony.
I was told that most of the old “stuff, plaques, pictures” had been
taken over to the new stadium at Flushing Meadows or else had just
“disappeared”. There were vague recollections amongst people of there
having been a plaque for Tony but no one would know where it was now. I
was determined. Nothing like looking for needles in a haystack, or in
this case, piles and piles, meters deep of old tennis nets stashed
under the stadium. As I stood there with a flashlight and perched
precariously on top of the mountain of nets, I realized it would take a
bulldozer to move the tonnes of netting, on the off chance a plaque may
still be there.
I enjoyed visiting Forest Hills, the lawn courts are still in good
form and I guess the old stadium there serves as a reminder of what it
was all about for this neck of the woods in Queens. I love grass tennis
courts, was an avid grass player myself, and the smell just sets me off
to futures I have not yet seen, games I really should be playing, and
to the days gone by. The latter a time I could well imagine Tony
playing in. A time when men looked stylish and resplendent in long
trousers and thousands of women, in Tony’s case, “would swoon” upon
seeing him take the court. How times have changed. In fact, do we
women, still even swoon in this jaded age? For anyone? Swooning or not,
what we do see now on the court is a myriad of colors, clothing
lengths, and an athleticism by both men and women that would have been
rare in Tony’s day.
We are looking at bringing in an Tony Wilding clothing line in to
see if, like Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps, there may be a way to make
an energy efficient, streamline pair of long white trousers for tennis
players. Anyone game to try?
anna wilding copyright 2008