Once Were Lions: The Players’ Stories: Inside the World’s Most Famous Rugby Team

I got a ride in a jeep to the Rhine, crossed over in a empty DUKW (amphibious vehicle) and there was another jeep waiting for me on the other side which took me to Eindhoven in Holland where I got a lift in a plane to Brize Norton in Oxfordshire. I was stationed in Essex at the time but waiting for me was the CO of the camp who grabbed a spare aircraft and flew me home.

I wasn’t long married at the time and when I presented myself at the door of our digs my wife thought I was a ghostly apparition, because she had been told that there had been very few survivors of the attack. I spent the night, went up by train to Leicester the following morning and I played for Great Britain and scored a try in our victory. War was incidental to rugby football, you see.

With two centres, one of whom had gone the distance with Rocky Marciano and the other who had invaded Germany, how could the 1950 Lions fail? Other former servicemen on the 1950 tour included Billy McKay, who had been a Commando and had served in the bloodiest conflicts in Burma, now Myanmar. Welsh scrum-half Rex Willis had served in the Royal Navy while Scottish captain Peter Kininmonth had seen action in Italy and as recently as 1947 had served on the Northwest frontier in Afghanistan. Ken Jones served as a sergeant in India, and his victory in the All-India Games in 1945 kick-started a sprinting career that saw him run for Britain in the 1948 Olympics and win a silver medal in the sprint relay—almost sacrilegiously for a Lion, he perhaps unsurprisingly recalled the 1948 Olympics as the highlight of his sporting career rather than his touring experiences.

Of such tried and tested stuff were Lions made. The 1950 touring party was the first to be called the Lions by all and sundry, though they were still formally billed as the British Isles Rugby Union Team, and the initials BIRUT appeared on the tour blazer beneath the now accepted emblem of the four home unions’ badges on a quartered shield. A more obvious change—as mentioned earlier—was the adoption of bright red jerseys, prompted by the previous blue colours clashing with the black jersey of New Zealand. The Lions in Red were here to stay.

The manager for the 1950 tour was a distinguished Royal Navy doctor, Surgeon-Captain L.B. ‘Ginger’ Osborne, then a selector for England and later a rear admiral. His good humour coupled with Mullen’s inspirational captaincy made this one of the happiest of tours. Indeed, we know just how pleasant an experience it was from first-hand accounts in a DVD documentary of that 1950 tour called The Singing Lions. ‘With all those Welshmen, what did you expect?’ as Jack Matthews put it.

In the 1950 party, for the first time every player was an internationalist and all four home unions provided capped players. Although Wales’s captain John Gwiliam could not tour, there were eventually no fewer than 14 players from Wales, Lewis Jones joining as a replacement for the latter part of the tour. Jones would become known as ‘The Golden Boy’ of Welsh rugby but, as we will see, he would become involved in a controversy that split his nation asunder.

The Welsh preponderance reflected the fact that the principality was enjoying one of its periods of domination over the other northern unions, having just achieved the Grand Slam. Great players like Williams and fellow centre Matthews—nicknamed ‘Iron Man’ by the New Zealanders ‘because of my tackling, I think’, he mused recently—and flying winger Ken Jones made the Welsh back line irresistible. ‘I once beat Ken in a 100m sprint,’ Matthews recalled, ‘and when my time was beaten later on, I had to remind the new record holder he was running in spikes and we ran in flat shoes.’

Other Welsh Lions of 1950 included the Terrible Twins from Neath, lock forwards Roy John and Rees Stephens, as well as utility forward Don Hayward, prop John Robins and fly-half Billy Cleaver. Hooker Dai Davies and flanker Bob Evans became vital team members while the ever-cheerful Cliff Davies provided the baritone for the Lions choir.

Despite the tour having an English manager and selector, England had just three representatives, including captain Ivor Preece, which was not really surprising as English rugby was then in the doldrums, while Scotland had five and Ireland nine.

‘The Welsh and Irish got on great,’ said Williams, ‘but really we all gelled right from the start, all the nationalities, and maybe it was because so many of us had been used to getting along with strangers during our time in the services.’

The best known Scottish player of the day, the great back row forward W.I.D. ‘Doug’ Elliott, was invited to be a Lion but could not make the tour as he was a farmer and would miss the harvest, as was also the case with another Scottish invitee, Hamish Kemp. Doug Elliot did ask if he could join the tour for part of the trip, but was refused. The Lions Committee wanted total commitment in those days, and he never did make a tour. He was ‘a great character who was missed’, in Jack Kyle’s words. The leader of the Scottish contingent in 1950 was the barrel-chested flank forward Peter Kininmonth, while his fellow Scot, scrum-half Gus Black, was noted for his long and accurate passes which attracted the attention of an All Blacks team anxious to stop the Lions’ backs from cutting loose. It says everything about his destructive opposite number, Pat Crowley, that Gus Black survived just two Tests before giving way for the third Test to Gordon Rimmer, who in turn was injured during the game and replaced by the Welsh utility back Billy Cleaver, before Rex Willis took over at No. 9 for the final Test—Crowley destroyed them all.

Both the team captain and its star player were Irish. A fine hooker, Dr Karl Mullen had been captain of Ireland’s Triple Crown-winning sides of 1948 and 1949 and was first choice to captain the Lions. Firm and fair and with a surgeon’s bedside manner about him, he would go on to become one of Ireland’s leading gynaecologists, and with his wife Doreen would be at the heart of Irish society for many years. Doreen died in 2008 and Dr Mullen is now living quietly in Ireland.

Due to injury, Mullen missed a good number of matches but had a sound replacement as captain in Bleddyn Williams, while Dai Davies was such a success at hooker that Mullen stood aside for the team’s benefit even after recovering. Incidentally, both Davies and the lightning-quick flank forward Bob Evans were policemen, the latter an inspector with Newport C.I.D. All those young doctors and policemen—yet it was somehow a trouble-free tour…

Bleddyn Williams would become one of the legendary figures of Welsh and Lions rugby, and at the age of 85 his memories of the tour and before are pin sharp. But he nearly didn’t make the 1950 Lions tour at all.

As he recalled:

In the final Welsh trial before the Five Nations in the early part of January, Malcolm Thomas, who also came on the Lions tour, and I were in opposition. He tackled me and my leg was caught in such a position that I tore the ligaments in my knee. I was in plaster for some time, and though they picked me for the Lions, I still had to prove my fitness, which I managed to do in a match for Cardiff against Bath.

The great thing for me was that we went out by boat taking more than five weeks so that I was able to do all sorts of exercises with weights and by the time we reached New Zealand I was in pretty good shape. It also helped that we had so many doctors and trainee doctors around—Jack Matthews was a qualified GP, and Jack Kyle and Bill McKay qualified later, while Karl Mullen became a gynaecologist and Ginger Osborne was a dentist.

I got injured against Otago and missed the first Test, but it was only a pulled hamstring though I made it worse by playing on with the injury—there were no replacements then, of course, and you stayed on the field unless you had to be carried off.

That old law will mystify modern rugby fans used to the ‘revolving door’ replacements of modern matches, but Jack Matthews remembers that ‘no substitute’ rule ruefully: ‘On the tour I think we finished with only 14 men on the pitch in about 20 to 30 per cent of the matches we played. You just had to carry on.’

Matthews himself was almost the victim of some skulduggery by an alleged Irish selector, who threatened him with expulsion from the Lions.

On the morning of our 1950 Triple Crown game against Ireland, I went to ‘spend a penny’, so to speak, and this fellow just said ‘If you play well today you won’t make the Lions tour, as I’m a selector and will see to it.’ I ignored him and went out and played my usual game. We won 6–3, and I never heard another word.

One of the ‘doctors in the making’ on that tour was one of Ireland’s all-time greats, fly-half J.W. ‘Jack’ Kyle, whose inventiveness sparked many a try-scoring move by the backs. Kyle and his fellow Irishmen proved a big hit off the field, and combined with the lads from the Valleys in many a singsong.

‘We had won the Grand Slam in 1948,’ recalled Kyle, ‘and Wales had just won it, so naturally between the two countries we had the bulk of the party.’

Kyle’s experiences of being selected were typical of the time. As a medical student at Queen’s University in Belfast, he had already played for Ireland and was reckoned to be the outstanding fly-half of the day. He had hopes for receiving the selectors’ call but in the end found out he had been chosen for the tour from a newspaper.

‘My father, who was also John Wilson Kyle like me, was reading the Belfast Telegraph when he noticed a report saying ‘the following have been selected…’ and there was my name,’ said Kyle. ‘I know plenty of Lions who found out the same way.

In those days there was absolutely no question of any money or benefits accruing from playing rugby. My dad frequently said to me ‘You’re not going to earn your living from rugby, son, you had better pass your exams.

When he read of my selection, fortunately I wasn’t in the house. He read out the report and noted the fact that I would be away for six months and miss a full term, and then turned to my brother Eric and said ‘Does that brother of yours ever intend to qualify?’

I actually did take a few books and hoped to get advice from the other doctors on the tour like Karl Mullen, but I can’t remember doing much reading and we only had one session where Karl tried to teach me a bit about midwifery and gynaecology.

That may have been the only occasion when midwifery was learned on a rugby tour. As for gynaecology…

As a qualified GP, Jack Matthews’ position was much worse—he had to pay a locum thousands of pounds to fill in for him while he was away so that he didn’t lose his practice. Matthews said: ‘My son was two at the time, and my wife said I could go on tour, but she wanted a maid to help out at home, so I had to pay for her, too. And all we got was seven shillings a day expenses and we even had to buy our own blazers.’ The clothing allowance was also frugal—a Lions tie and two BIRUT badges which the players had to sew on themselves.

Jack Kyle did acquire something substantial from that tour—a brother-in-law, Noel Henderson, who was a student at Queen’s alongside Kyle and Bill McKay. ‘He was a very good centre who greatly strengthened our defence—he was always criticizing me for not getting up on my man, saying things like “Does the out half [fly-half] intend tackling his opposite number by tomorrow?”’ Kyle had to forgive him later: ‘After all, he married my sister and they had four daughters.’

Coming from lands beset by shortages and rationing, the Lions took full advantage of their hosts’ generosity, and in turn they proved to be wonderful ambassadors for the sport in Britain and Ireland. The sparkling play by the backs in most matches and their sportsmanship in all of the games was rivalled only by their obvious enjoyment at the many receptions and outings laid on for them in New Zealand in particular.

‘We had a wonderful time,’ recalled Matthews. ‘The people in New Zealand were often more British than the British, and were always asking us how things were “at home”, even though they had never been there.’

The Lions played a full part in the social whirl that surrounded the tourists, as Matthews remembered:

There were no pubs as such, and people just took us into their homes where we ate and drank merrily. Often they would take us out to hunt wild pigs—fortunately they also brought along professional hunters.

I remember when we visited the Maori settlement at Rotorua and it was quite a sight to see our lads up there dancing with the Maori.

The pace was also leisurely largely because of the way the Lions got around: ‘We would travel by bus or train, never by aeroplane,’ recalled Bleddyn Williams, ‘and would train on school grounds. We had no coaches so Karl would look after the forwards and I would take charge of the backs. Afterwards we would have to give a little talk or answer questions from the pupils.’ Both he and Jack Matthews are adamant about the source of most of the questions—‘The girls, no doubt about it,’ said Matthews. ‘They really were very interested in all aspects of the game.’ So there you have the true secret of the All Blacks’ success—wives, mothers, grandmothers, sisters and daughters all keeping the men on their toes.

Jack Kyle recalled that the four national captains—Karl Mullen, Bleddyn Williams, Peter Kininmonth, and Ivor Preece of England—did the selection chores: ‘We went out without coaches and, to be frank, it was quite a leisurely affair at times.

‘We had plenty of time to see the sights and scenery and at the age of just 24, being carefree and away with a crowd of chaps with nothing to do but play rugby and enjoy ourselves, it really was quite something, a tremendous experience.’

That 1950 visit is still called the ‘Friendly Tour’ in New Zealand, as much for the style of play exhibited by the Lions as by their undoubted social charms.

‘It was all arranged beforehand,’ revealed Bleddyn Williams some 58 years later. ‘We threw the ball about because we all agreed that we wanted to entertain the people who came to see us, and we felt we did that.’

The appreciation of the backs in particular was shown by the fact that Kyle and Jones were named as two of the five players of the year by the Rugby Almanack of New Zealand. Due to injuries, other backs distinguished themselves in unaccustomed roles, with Scottish fly-half or centre Ranald Macdonald making an impact as a winger.

Sadly, however, the results of the Test Matches against New Zealand brought only a small degree of contentment to the Lions. Having started off with three easy victories, the Lions were humbled in the first two difficult provincial games against Otago and Southland, before travelling to Dunedin for the first Test. The match against Otago in particular saw the Lions come up against that province’s fierce rucking game that was to become such a feature of rugby in the land of the long white cloud.

A hard fought and highly creditable draw in Dunedin, where the Lions led until late in the game only for New Zealand captain Roy Elvidge to score a converted try, was followed by three defeats to give the All Blacks another series victory. The second Test was lost 0–8 in Christchurch, where the Lions were reduced to 14 men when flanker Billy McKay was forced off with a broken nose and concussion. McKay was obviously a forgiving sort—he liked New Zealand so much that he emigrated there after qualifying as a doctor.

Scores of 3–6 in Wellington and 8–11 in Auckland show just how close the Lions came to matching their opponents, especially in the latter Test. Bleddyn Williams still recalls the best try of the tour in that match.

We were 11–3 down and right on our goal line when I said to Jack Kyle, the finest fly-half I ever played with, to get the ball out quickly as we were going to run it. The ball went from Rex Willis to Kyle but it never reached me because behind me was Lewis Jones who nipped in and intercepted it, running up to their full-back and passing to Ken Jones and we scored at the other end of the field. Fred Allen, who later coached the All Blacks, says to this day that it’s the best try they have ever seen at Auckland.

From the kick-off I nearly scored a try but Peter Henderson, who was an Olympic runner like Ken Jones, caught me and pinned my arms in the tackle. He later told me it was the best tackle he had ever made.

The All Blacks themselves had been whitewashed 3–0 by South Africa the previous year—so how good did that make the Springboks? The Lions would have to wait five years to find out.

By common consent, the problem for the 1950 Lions was that, apart from the first Test, their forwards could never quite match the All Blacks in gaining and keeping possession. Perhaps only Roy John of Neath, Ireland’s Jimmy Nelson and Peter Kininmonth of Scotland were physically able to compete with the opposition in the Tests.

Some observers say that had the superb Lions backs been matched with New Zealand’s forwards, it would have created a dream team the like of which had not been seen in world rugby. As it was, those peerless backs Kyle, Matthews, Williams and Jones had to make do with considerably less possession than their opposite numbers.