Historical research necessitates an awful lot of reading, some of it rewarding, but much of it fruitless.
However, the occasional nugget is reward in itself. Take this extract from the unpublished WWI memoirs of a soldier-rider who later became Irish amateur champion.
“I remember that Bryan Robinson called me to come and see a badly wounded horse, the mount of a military mounted policeman, which he was afraid he would have to shoot. This horse was a racehorse called Willie Wagtail, that had belonged to Jim Parkinson. Just before the war John Thompson, the leading Irish jockey and attached to Jim Parkinson’s stable, had been schooling this horse over hurdles and he had fallen and killed John Thompson instantly. I suppose Jim Parkinson had sold him to the Army at the outbreak of the war in disgust at the death of his friend. It was strange that shortly after he too should meet his death in the war, amongst those who knew his history.”
Born in Bunclody, John Thompson was apprenticed to James J Parkinson in Maddenstown. Recently returned from a lengthy stay in America – he had received a year’s suspension for foul riding – Parkinson had become a firm advocate of the American monkey-on-a-stick style of riding with shortened leathers. ‘Tod’ Sloan had caused consternation in England with that style and Parkinson was determined that Thompson should adopt it, which he reluctantly did.
Backed by Parkinson’s extensive string – he had the largest public stable in Europe at the time – John Thompson went on to become Irish champion jockey 10 times in 12 years. Virtually invincible in sprints, Thompson relied more on force than persuasion, frequently incurring the wrath of the racecourse stewards. He defended himself stoutly on one recorded occasion. “Gentlemen, when I whip my mounts freely and win, I am asked why I did so, but if you warn me not to use the whip when I consider it necessary to do so, I shall expect that I shall not have to answer a charge of ‘non-trying’.” Touché!
Parkinson valued his stable jockey so highly that he forbade him to ride in hurdle races.
Instead the jockey became one of the pioneers of showjumping in Ireland. Just how he came to be schooling Willie Wagtail over hurdles on Friday 16 May 1913 remains a mystery. However, he did just that, suffering a fractured skull when the horse rolled on him. Carried unconscious into Maddenstown Lodge, the stricken champion was attended firstly by Surgeon Coady of Kildare and later by the celebrated Surgeon McArdle, who motored down from Dublin and operated on Thompson that night.
As his stable jockey fought for his life, Jim Parkinson had his men spread straw on the roads round Maddenstown, to muffle the sounds of passing vehicles.
Initial bulletins offered some encouragement. However, on 29 May The Irish Times reported: ‘The condition of John Thompson, the injured Curragh jockey, was not so satisfactory yesterday.’
The following day came news of his death, in the presence of his family and friends. Only after his demise was it conceded that only a miracle could have saved him and the only other hope lay in his magnificent constitution to pull him through. John Thompson was 31, had been Irish champion jockey on a record number of occasions, his winning total amounting to 510. The Irish Times saluted him thus: ‘He was unswerving in his loyalty to his master, and was justly held in the highest esteem by owners and the racing public, who could not fail to appreciate the deceased jockey’s sterling attributes.’
Willie Wagtail was apparently none the worse for that mishap, as he reappeared in a hurdle race at Longford before May was out, having previously scored on the flat at Clonmel carrying his trainer’s spotted livery.
However, a year was to elapse before he won again – a flat handicap at Tipperary (the old course of that name) in June 1914, when Colin Barrett got him by a head from Henry Harty on his mother well-named Touring Martin. Parkinson’s remarkable amateur son Willie was in the saddle when the Wagtail followed up at Goresbridge soon afterwards. Willie Wagtail’s final appearance in colours was at Roscommon at the end of July.
As WWI was declared that August it may be assumed that the chestnut henceforth carried military rather than racecourse colours. By morbid coincidence this son of Eyne met his end at Aisne. Written in the stars, maybe?