NOTE to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers: This article contains the names and images of Indigenous people who have died.
Frank Reys rode to victory over 1,000 times in his 30-year career.
In 1973, he became the first Aboriginal jockey to win the nation's greatest race, the Melbourne Cup.
To this day, he is the only First Nations person to hold the title.
He's also the only jockey to have won from barrier 24, widely regarded as the hardest spot to win from.
A career marred with hospital stints, broken bones, identity struggles and missed chances, his win was against all odds.
He's a racing legend. But he's also my grandfather.
He passed away in 1984 to cancer, 16 years before I was born.
On the 50th anniversary of his historic win, our family has travelled from around the country to reunite in Melbourne to bring his story back to life.
Frank was born and raised in Far North Queensland, son to a Djirrbal mother and Filipino father.
He and his 13 siblings grew up with horses from a young age.
My nan Noeline Reys says Frank's mum, Annie Hunter, played a big role in fostering his interest in riding.
"Their mother was the one who encouraged them to ride horses, so right from when he was a little boy, he was keen on horses and riding," she says.
Annie was a member of the Stolen Generations, displaced from her family as a result of racist policies at the time.
She never saw her parents again.
My family believes the trauma from her upbringing passed on to her children, many of whom were silent about their Aboriginality.
Frank had always told people he was of Filipino descent, and while I can't ask him why he chose not to disclose his Indigeneity, members of the family have different understandings as to why he did.
His daughter, my mum Deb Reys, believes he feared what society would think.
"I think it comes back to him feeling culturally unsafe, and that's not his fault," she says.
"I think society [at the time] was such that he wasn't culturally safe to identify completely.
"But I do know he was proud."
Our family are now open and proud about our Indigenous heritage. Frank's youngest daughter Shelley Reys is a fierce leader in the reconciliation movement.
It's debated whether or not it would have affected his opportunities to ride.
"He was obviously dark-skinned, so those that were going to be prejudiced against the colour of his skin would have been anyway," my uncle Chris Reys says.
But it was a different time, and other family members think his Aboriginality could have attracted racism.
"Maybe he wouldn't have been given all the opportunities that he had, if he had been judged on race, rather than his capabilities as a jockey," Deb says.
But there were other hurdles to overcome, and winning the Melbourne Cup was always Frank's priority.
The highs and lows
Frank competed around the country under his mentor Gordon Shelley, to much success.
But Melbourne was always the goal and the place to be for any serious jockey. So he and his wife made the move.
Sitting at my nan's house with my mum and uncle, looking through old photos, stories emerged of the relationships Frank formed with those he worked with during his time in Melbourne.
Like his trainer, Ray Hutchins, who became a close family friend.
"Ray and Dad were a formidable pair," Deb remembers.
"They were great friends, they had a huge amount of respect for each other, and dad was the number one jockey at the stable at Epsom for Hutchins."
One of his contemporaries, fellow jockey Brian Gilders, says he and Frank were best mates one minute and enemies the next.
"Frank worked hard, and he was hard to beat," Brian says.
Stories were also told about John Patterson, or 'Patto', the Clerk of the Course for some 50 years.
He would escort winners back from the course, and saw many great riders over the years. But he always had a particular respect for Frank.
"He had very good balance, he could read a race," Patto says.
"He was a very strong rider. He had beautiful hands, and horses settled and went kind for him."
But there were lows as well, including falls resulting in serious injuries, keeping Frank out of the saddle for months at a time.
"Over the years, they said he'd broken most bones in his body," Debra says.
Frank had to watch opportunities to win the cup slip through his fingers, over and over.
He was set to ride Piping Lane in the 1972 Melbourne Cup, but was out with injuries.
Piping Lane went on to win the cup that year.
Frank thought his chances were dashed, and considered giving up his dream altogether.
"We went down to the stables to see Ray Hutchins, and Frank said 'I'm thinking of giving [the cup] away'," Noeline recalls.
"Hutchie said: 'No, I've got the horse we're going to win the cup with'."
Overcoming barriers
Frank knew his window to win the cup was growing smaller.
In 1973, he was 41– the oldest jockey to be competing in the race. He wasn't a favourite, his odds were nine to one.
He'd come second in the Caulfield Cup weeks prior, leaving him disappointed.
But his wife now realises it was a blessing in disguise.
"If he'd won that one, he'd probably have gotten a penalty for the Melbourne Cup, and may not have won the big race," she says.
Frank was confident in his team and his horse, but a barrier draw at 24 dampened his hopes again.
Chris remembers when his dad found out he'd be starting from the hardest barrier.
"He was crestfallen, and he was at a loss, very disappointed for a little while, until we said, 'well it's done now, you need to buckle down'.
"He almost immediately changed mindset, and then it became a problem to sort, so he locked himself away and figured it out."
And figure it out he did. He filled his family in on his race plan in the car on the way to Flemington.
"There was an air of excitement," Noeline recalls.
"I was hopeful, desperately hopeful, but not sure at all whether he would win."
But he was more than capable, and the race played out exactly how he had planned.
He's still the only jockey to have won the Melbourne Cup from barrier 24.
A dream achieved
"I remember him coming back to scale, his arms up in the air, helmet off, this big beaming smile," Deb recalls.
"The crowd was huge, there were over 100,000 people there that day.
"I remember dad coming back through the roses, and I knew how much it meant to him.
"It was just pure joy."
Frank spoke to a crowd of thousands after the race, elated at the victory he had worked so hard for:
"I kept picking myself up off the ground and hoping I would win a Melbourne Cup.
"It's something that every Australian jockey dreams about.
"I still can't believe it. I don't know what to believe. It's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.
"I thank the Lord, my family and my trainer. I'll never forget this."
A lasting legacy
In the years that followed, Frank hung up his riding boots and spent time managing a stud farm and running the family business – a grocery and liquor store.
In November of 1981 he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was given six months to live.
He outlived his prognosis for a few years before succumbing to his illness in 1984.
I've been told he was looking forward to being a grandfather — a role he never got to play — as his four granddaughters were born after his death.
It's been an honour getting to know him through the stories I've been told.
This year, on the 50th anniversary of his win, the Victorian Racing Club are hosting members of the Reys family from around the country, and have put on an exhibit at Flemington Racecourse.
It's sparked discussions about Frank's legacy.
Some say it's how he inspired many other young Aboriginal athletes, earning a mention in Ash Barty's autobiography as one of her inspirations.
"He'd be thrilled to know First Nations people found inspiration in what he achieved," Deb says.
But if you ask nan, she'll tell you his legacy is his family.
"He's left a very proud family behind," Noeline says.
She says he would be humbled by the attention his story is still receiving, 50 years later.
"He didn't want to make great strides in the world. He was quite happy to just be Frank."
Credits
Reporting: Isabella Tolhurst
Photography and video: Simon Winter
Digital production: Sarah Spina-Matthews