A JOCKEY'S RISE.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume XLIII, Issue XLIII, 4 January 1924, Page 3

A JOCKEY'S RISE.

' STORY OF DONOGHUE.

AND HOW HE BECAME FAMOUS,

Donoghue reached the English racecourts by.way of France and Ireland. The wonder is that he ever reached it at all. As the earlier cnapters of his entertaining book show, nothing but his unconquerable determination to become a jockey wade him one. A more hopeless start in life for a boy who was destined to become the Fred Archer of his* generation could hardly be imagined. He and Archer were both sons of poor and improvident parents, and were both passionately fond of horses, but there all resemblance ends. Archer, the son of a jockey, learnt to ride almost as soon as he learnt to walk, was apprenticed when eleven to a discerning trainer, who gave him every opportunity of distinguishing himself, and at the age of 17 was the' leading English jockey and the bestknown jockey in the world. Donoghue was the son of a" puddler employed at Pearson and Knowles' Warrington works, went to the same works as a halfntimer when he was twelve, and altogether seemed to be as completely railed off from the English thoroughbred and everybody and everything connected with it as a boy could well be. None of his relatives knew any-, thing about horses, and his father, he records, nev«r even saw a racehorse till his son was fourteen. This, however, did not prevent Donoghue senior from taking a regular financial interest in the "sport of kings"; he used to spend a large proportion of his hard-earned wages in backing horses, "of course always in the long run losing," as his son tells us. Young Donoghue would be sent out by his father to buy the sporting newspapers, and it was his own study of these that first fired his turf ambition. At the age of fourteen he addressed a letter to John Porter, the master of Kingsolere, inquiring if he wanted a boy in his stables. The answer was in the negative. A letter having failed, the youngster decided to try the effect of a personal interview. Me played truant on the Chester Cup day, and, with the help of a lift "here and there, walked and ran the 21 miles from Warrington to the Roodee. Inquiring the way to "Mr. Porter's stabtes," he found the great man, carrying a long hunting crop, supervising the departure of a string of thoroughbreds to the racecourse. The boy was tired and dusty, his clothes were torn, and he had lost his cap, and he was acutely conscious of his iron-tipped clogs, but he «scr«wed up his courage, and something like the following dialogue took place:—■ i S.D. : "D-d-dae yer want a jockey, sir?" . J.P. (gripping long torn threateningly) : "What!" S.D. (less bravely) : "D-d-yer want a jockey., sir?" J.P. (shaking the long torn at wouldbe jockey) : "I'll lay this round you if you're not off quick out of this." S.D. (drawing coat-cuff across his eyes and moving slowly away): "I—l wanted to know if ye wanted a jockey, sir." J.P. (looking even more grim, but waving small culprit back to him): "Come here! Where have you come from?" S.D.: "Warrington, sir." . J.P.: "Where are your parents?" S.D.: "At home, sir." J.P.: "How old are you?" S.D.: "'Fourteen, sir." J.P.: "What brought you here?" S.D.: "I wanted to see the Chester Cup, sir." J.P.: "Oh! And want to be a jockey, t00,.d0 you?" S.D. : "Yes, sir." J.P. : "Oh." (After a moment) "Well, you go back home and tell your father to come and see me to-morrow '' S.D. (joyfully): "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.',' Exit small adventurer with wild hopes forming vaguely in his mind of a possible future after all as a knight of the pigskin. After watching the race for the Cup from the walls of Chester (it was Uncle Mac's year) the boy made his way home, exultation over the success of his interview gradually giving place to apprehension as to what his father would do to him for playing truant. His fears were justified, for without being allowed to offer a word of explanation he was severely thrashed and sent supperless to- bed— "a pitiful end to my day of glorious adventure!" However, Mrs. Donoghue was more sympathetic, and to her the sobbing boy told the day's history, and she, in turn, persuaded her husband to take his son to see the great Mr. Porter the following day. The upshot was that the boy went to Kingsclere on trial.

Young Donoghue got on fairly well in his new surroundings, and, though he had a pretty hard life of it. was so keenly interested in all the details of his work that the hardships must have seemed quite worth while. All went well so long as he was kept to the stable routine, hut, alas! the very first time he mounted a thoroughbred he met with disaster. A string of horses had been at exercise on the Downs, and Donoghue was put up on one called Clean Gone to ride him quietly Lome. The horse bucked and kicked, unseated the boy, and, getting loose, upset the whole string, the last of which, Flying Fox, the Derby favourite, also got loose and galloped off in pursuit of Clean Uone. closely followed by a third runaway, a, bad-tempered brute with the reputation of a "savager," named Wantage, "Imagine the feelings of poor John Porter there on his hack," writes Donoghue, "seeing the prospect of a probable fight to the death between the two colts, which was bound to take place if Wantage caught up with Flying Fox—the latter horse the best in his stable, practically beyond price." [ Porter's quickness and presence of mind saved the situation, but there was no forgiveness for the small sinner whose mishap had caused all the trouble, and. he was allowed to ride no more. Confined to the stables and yards, he grew homesick, wrote to his mother for his railway fare, and, took the train to Warrington as soon as ! she sent it ; He gives a delightful picture of his return, "sporting a large jockey's cap, breeches (large check pat_ tern), gaiters, and boots, giving myself as many airs as though I had returned a full-blown Tod Sloan, instead of a very-much-in-diserace young runaway." Thus ended what had seemed a most promising start, and the young jockey \va,s soon back at uncongenial labour again, in the Warrington wireworks. A fight with p_ local bully, which ended in the aggressor striking the kerbstone with his head and being taken to hospital, frightened young Donoghue into running away from home, and he r>7id a brother made their wav to Stockton . r :u:ps. where the two- l;ids approached Dobson Peacock, the Middleham trainer, and had the luck to be engaged by him. Here the boy mad© good progress and

learnt a great deal, but once again he .was frightened away —this time by the census papers, which he feared would disclose his real name and address, lead to his parents discovering his whereabouts, and ultimately to bis arrest by the police. (As a matter of fact the boy who was injured in the fight had made a good recovery, but this comforting fact was not known to Donoghue at this time.) After a, series of adventures, which began with a tramp from Middleham to Manchester, the two brothers were taken on by Alfred Sadler at Newmarket. Here* Steve was first given an opportunity of showing his riding ability, and the trainer wanted to have the boy apprenticed to him, but this would have brought in the father at Warrington once again, and Donoghue feared he might be forced to go home. So once again he tan away—this time to France, where he was engaged by an Englishman training at Chantilly. Here he remained for several years, gaining much valuable experience, but, to his bitter disappointment, never being given a chance to ride in & race.

At last, in May, 1904, having changed his employer., he was put tip on a filly at a small meeting at Angouleme, and thus donned silk for the first time when in his twentieth year. It was nearly a year later, however, that he rode his first winner, at Hyeres. Surely no crack jockey before or since has ever had to wait so long for his first success! Other victories in small races followed, both in France and in Ireland, and by 1909 Donoghue was riding regularly in England and building up the great reputation' which he enjoys, to--day., and which, it may be added, he so thoroughly .deserves. His astonishing feat in winning the Derby in three successive years—on Humorist,' Captain Cuttle, and Papyrus—is unparalleled in the history of the English racing turf, and even those critics who think him inferior in all-round jockevsMp to Archer, Sloan, or Maher admit that he never had a superior over the tricky Epsom course. Donoghue himself attributes his success at Epsom to the experience he gained in France over the tiny tracks, often not thre^-quarters of a mile round, all sharp elbows and bends, at Hyeres, Touion, Aix-en-Provence, and Avignon. Donoghue doesn't write as well as he rides, but he writes a great deal better than many neople do who have had infinitely more education. Horses and jockeys are Ms subject, and he sticks to it all through, telling his 6tory simply and straightforwardly and "without any affectation or self-praise. One gets the impression from this book, as from Archer's recently published life, that a jockey doesn't rise to the head of his profession without possessing unusual mental as well as physical powers.