Cold Open

It’s July 9th, 1877, at the All England Club in South London. 

27-year-old Spencer Gore bounces lightly from foot to foot on the freshly rolled grass. He grips his wooden racket, his eyes locked on the ball as it arcs toward him. Then, with a smooth swing, he sends it sailing back over the net to his opponent. This is just a warm-up, so both men are conserving their energy for now.

Today is the first round of a new lawn tennis tournament. And Spencer’s match is the opener. 

Spectators have gathered on the makeshift benches that line the court. There are more people than seats, and a group of schoolchildren jostles for the best vantage point. Spencer is a bit surprised that so many people have come. Lawn tennis is a new sport—its provisional rules are a mix of Croquet and Racquetball. And despite the curious crowd today, Spencer is far from convinced that this game is anything more than a passing fad.

But before he can give that notion any more thought, the referee calls for play to begin. Spencer steps up to the baseline and readies himself. And as a serve comes in this time, he doesn’t hold back.

Spencer lunges forward, meeting the ball early and driving it low across the net. It’s a strong first hit, but his opponent handles the return with ease, keeping Spencer moving. With each swing of the heavy racket, Spencer feels a jolt through his elbow and wrist—but he grits his teeth and keeps the rally alive, determined to dictate the pace.

Finally, with one last ferocious swing, he smashes the ball across the net and beyond the reach of his scrambling opponent. The first point of the match is won. And it’s gone to Spencer.

Spencer Gore won’t just be the first person to play a match at the All England Club’s tournament—he will also be its first winner when he triumphs in the competition’s final ten days later.

Only 200 spectators will watch this victory. But these humble origins will be the genesis of a sporting spectacle that will one day reach a global audience of millions. The Wimbledon Championships will become the most prestigious tennis tournament on the planet, and its story begins on this repurposed croquet lawn in south London—on July 9th, 1877.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is July 9th, 1877: The First Wimbledon Tennis Tournament.

Act One: A Whole New Ball Game

It’s February 23rd, 1874, in central London, three years before Spencer Gore wins his match at the All England's Club tournament.

Major Walter Clopton Wingfield stands on the black and white tiles of his townhouse hallway, clutching an envelope. He's shaking slightly. Major Wingfield has been waiting for this letter for months.

After an illustrious military career, the 41-year-old Wingfield is retired from service. Now, he is an enthusiastic, though as of yet unsuccessful, entrepreneur. Recently, he’s been pinning his hopes on a patent application for his latest invention. It’s a portable lawn tennis court kit he hopes to sell under the name Sphairistike. It’s from the Ancient Greek for ‘playing at ball’, and Wingfield hopes the use of the classical language will appeal to rich and well-educated customers. 

But Wingfield hasn’t invented an entirely new game. The origins of tennis date back hundreds of years to 12th century France. “Jeu de paume” was a simple game played predominantly by monks. Players passed a ball back and forth, using the palm of their hand to hit it across a line drawn on the ground. This evolved into “Tenir”, from the French word meaning “to hold”. And by the 1500s, monarchs like England’s Henry VIII were equipping their palaces with specially-built courts for the game. Over the centuries that followed, the sport evolved further and became more accessible to ordinary people as well. “Raquets” was one popular form of the game. Played with hard balls and long-handled bats, it became especially common in England. But by the middle of the 19th century, the sport was ready for its next leap forward.

At the Bath Street Racquets Club in Birmingham, an English solicitor and a Spanish merchant came up with a new version of the game. It combined elements of Racquets with a Basque sport known as “pelota”. Importantly, this new game didn’t require an expensive, purpose-built court. It could be played outdoors on just about any available patch of grass. And to their delight, their game caught on, and, in 1872, the duo established the world's first lawn tennis club in the town of Leamington Spa.

Now, in 1874, Major Wingfield hopes to build on their success and take this new sport to the masses. He tears open the envelope he's been waiting for so long. And a broad grin spreads across his face. His patent, number 685, has been granted.

But before he can celebrate, Wingfield notices a detail in the small print. The patent has a deadline—it will expire in 1877. So, he has just three years to market his product before anyone else can claim it as their own.

Wasting no time, Wingfield springs into action. Over the weeks that follow, he produces multiple kits and sends them out across the United Kingdom and beyond. It’s not just sports clubs that he targets, either. He also sends the kits to prominent clergymen, aristocrats, military leaders, and lawyers, hoping that where these influential men lead, others will follow.

The sets include a net, poles, rackets, and hollow rubber balls. Critically, they also contain Wingfield’s handwritten rulebook, a streamlined set of instructions that bring together rules from previous iterations of the sport. And explains how the game is played on Wingfield’s unique hourglass-shaped court.

In the end, all his hard work pays off. By the end of the year, Major Wingfield has sold thousands of his kits. People up and down Britain start abandoning sports like croquet and badminton to embrace this exciting new game. But as the popularity of Wingfield’s kit grows, some parts of his design fall by the wayside. The Ancient Greek name Sphairistike is quickly discarded. Few people know how to pronounce it or what it means. So, the far more memorable and straightforward term “lawn tennis” becomes the sport’s name instead.

Then, there is Wingfield’s hourglass-shaped court. He chose the shape mostly to make his patent application unique. But it is soon superseded by the simpler rectangular court.

And with the rules of the game still being tweaked and debated, in 1875, the Marylebone Cricket Club gets involved. The MCC has been responsible for the Laws of Cricket for almost a century, but its members have not been immune to the charms of lawn tennis. So, the club decides to codify the rules of this new sport to allow their members to better enjoy the game together.

Now, with a major sporting party behind it and an agreed set of rules, lawn tennis only continues to grow in popularity. But the explosive success of this new sport creates problems for established organizations like the All England Croquet Club in South London. As its members lose interest in the club’s original activities, it will be forced into radical action to survive. Croquet lawns will make way for tennis courts. Mallets will be replaced by rackets. But all that will cost money. So, to pay for the changes, the All England Club will decide to host a very special tournament.

Act Two: Setting the Stage

It’s June 4th, 1877, in Wimbledon, South London, three years after the approval of Major Walter Clopton Wingfield’s patent.

John Walsh sits at his desk in the quiet office of the All England Croquet Club. 66-year-old John is the club’s Secretary and one of its six co-founders, but he’s worried about the future of his organization. Strewn on the desk before him are members’ booking sheets inform them, it’s clear that enthusiasm for the club's croquet facilities is dwindling. In stark contrast, there’s a lengthy waiting list for a spot on the club’s one and only lawn tennis court.

For months, John has been under pressure from his fee-paying members to increase the number of courts on site. But John has resisted, not because he dislikes the new sport. He could easily create more courts. It’s the maintenance of them that’s the problem. The club has only one pony roller, a large and expensive piece of equipment that is vital for keeping tennis courts flat and ready for play. But it lies broken in the gardener’s shed. And right now, the club can’t afford to replace it.

But as John looks at the long waiting list for the tennis court, he has an idea. He wonders if a tennis tournament might generate the funds the club needs to repair the pony roller. They could charge players an entry fee and even sell tickets to spectators. It would be the first event of its kind — an attempt to turn a casual pastime into something bigger and more official.

John takes his idea to the All England Club’s governing committee. And they listen intently. Then, after much debate, they agree to proceed. They have one crucial condition, though: John’s event must not jeopardize the club’s already strained financial resources.

Even with this instruction, John is thrilled. But organizing a tournament of this scale is uncharted territory for him and everyone else on the club’s committee. He realizes they’ll need some help. Luckily, he knows just the person for the job—and where to find him.

John immediately sets out to the club’s croquet lawns in search of longtime member, Dr. Henry Jones.

Writing under the pseudonym “Cavendish,” the 45-year-old Dr. Jones works as a journalist for various sports publications. He’s an expert on card games like whist, too. But he also loves billiards and croquet, and he’s a big fan of lawn tennis. He was the man who suggested the All England Club build a tennis court in the first place. He's articulate and persuasive, and John hopes he will be just the man to take charge of the club’s new tournament.

John soon finds Henry casually leaning on his mallet, watching another member hit his ball expertly through a wooden croquet hoop. Striding across the lawn, John shakes Henry’s hand and immediately launches into a bitch. Explaining the club’s situation, he implores Henry to collaborate with him on this exciting new initiative. John’s words come out fast, tumbling out in excitement. So at first, Henry is a little bewildered, with an amused grin lurking behind his long, dark beard as John speaks. Eventually, though, Henry gets John to slow down, and he can process what’s been said. He’s soon convinced the idea is a good one and agrees to take on the challenge of organizing the competition.

Just as John hoped, Henry proves a natural. He forms a subcommittee to confirm the tournament’s rules. And over drinks in the clubhouse, he persuades twenty fellow members of the All England Club to help fund the new competition. Then, he calls on all his contacts in the British sporting world to promote it. Soon, there’s a real buzz of excitement about the tournament.

And by the time the event begins in July 1877, 22 competitors have signed up. Each has paid a guinea to enter, and they’re all hoping to win the grand prize: 12 guineas and a silver cup donated by the popular sports magazine The Field.

On the eve of the tournament, John Walsh and Dr. Henry Jones Walk together through the club. Its croquet lawns have been replaced by newly painted tennis courts. They have everything else they need: the players, the rulebook, and the interest of the sporting community. And in just a few hours, the first serve will be struck, and the tournament will begin. But its success won’t just reshape the future of the All England Club. It will change the sport forever.

Act Three: A Legacy on Lawn

It’s September 1877, two months after the first Wimbledon Championship.

In a stuffy meeting room inside the newly named All England Croquet and Lawn Tennis Club, the organizers of the tournament gather to discuss a job well done. Club Secretary John Walsh looks proudly at the animated faces of his fellow founders, all deep in discussion. His tennis competition has achieved everything he hoped it would. The club’s future seems assured, and a sparkling new pony roller is in the gardener’s tool shed.

By the glow of gas lamps, the men discuss what they’ve learned from the tournament. They debate the champion Spencer Gore's daring playing style, which some of them thought was too aggressive. The scoring system also demands their attention, amid concerns that some players and even umpires were confused at critical moments.

And even the dimensions of the playing area come under scrutiny. One member says that the variations across the makeshift courts used during the tournament made the matches unfair, and John agrees. Without uniformity, the fairness of the game could be called into question. So, the committee votes unanimously on commissioning a new code of regulations that will cover court dimensions and net size.

The discussion then turns to the question of hosting another competition in the future. Lawn tennis has clearly captured the attention of the British public, and the All England Club board is determined to take advantage. So, they quickly decide to make the tournament an annual event. Crucially, they also determined that they will soon include a women’s competition as well. This is a bold step. Most athletic clubs don’t even admit women. But the committee is unanimous. Lawn tennis is growing. And they want everyone to play.

With these decisions, the All England Club committee lay the final foundation stones of what will become a sporting institution. Over the next 150 years, the Wimbledon Championships will grow in size, stature, and spectacle. The club’s once-modest grounds will expand into a large complex with 18 championship courts, state-of-the-art retractable roofs, and space for over half a million spectators every year. Prize money will leap from the original 12 guineas to millions of dollars. And the winners will become superstars. But it all may never have happened without an entrepreneurial former Army Major, a broken pony roller, a charming reporter, and a successful first tournament that began on this day, July 9th, 1877.

Outro

Next on History Daily. July 10th, 1962. The world of communications is changed forever when the satellite Telstar is launched into orbit.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Supervising Sound Designer Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Olivia Jordan.

Edited by William Simpson.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.