CAN it really be 15 years since they published their History of the Irish Grand National; twice as long again since they brought out their History of the Irish Derby? Right on both counts.
For the third time in as many decades these doughty scribes have gone back into harness to compile the Who Was Who Of Irish Racing. The format is inspired by the recently-published Dictionary of Irish Biography – names, dates, reasons why they deserve to be commemorated. No, it will not rival its model in length or scope – 9 volumes, 9,700 lives, 700 contributors, 12 years to produce, a bargain at €700.
However, it will – as its model does – incorporate lighthearted anecdotes, to leaven the mix, as it were. The charm of collecting such tales lies in the unpredictability of their sources. Take Denis ‘Dinny’ Quirke (1903-1977).
Martin Quirke, his elder brother, became a household name, setting a longstanding Irish record for winners ridden in any one year, riding 9 Irish classic winners and training one more. Likewise his son Stephen, who saddled 3 Irish classic winners. Dinny did none of those things, though he played a key role in helping Martin to set that riding record, which was to stand for half a century.
On 16 April 1923 the brothers Quirke rode a dead heat at Mullingar, Dinny on First Consul, Martin on Pacifier. As the rules then stood, connections of dead heaters could agree to divide the spoils.
Alternatively, either or both parties could insist on a runoff . In this instance it appears that First Consul’s connections opted for a run-off , but Pacifier’s connections declined a rematch, whereupon First Consul was left to ‘walk over’ simply passing the judge to be declared the outright winner.
Here comes the rub. When First Consul paraded past the judge in solitary splendour, he was ridden not by Dinny (who rode him to dead heat), but by Martin, becoming one of Martin’s record-breaking tally of 86 flat winners for that year.
As no flat jockey threatened that record until Johnnie Roe began to do so in the 1970s, the circumstances of Martin’s Mullingar ‘winner’ remained irrelevant.
Twice previously Johnnie had topped the 80 mark, but only just. No panic. However, in 1972 it became increasingly apparent that Johnnie could equal – if not exceed – Martin Quirke’s longstanding record.
Then the arguments started. What number of winners did Johnnie have to ride to claim a new record – 86 or 87? Whole forests were felled to provide the necessary newspaper columns on this troublous topic. In the end it all worked out for the best. Johnnie managed to ride 87 flat winners – a new Irish record, one that was only to stand for five years, as Wally Swinburn topped the century in 1977.
During WWII Dinny took out a Curragh trainer’s licence. On the gallops he encountered the well known stable lad and wag, ‘Daffer’ Kelly. Dinny greeted Daffer by his nickname and was similarly saluted.
“Daffer, I’m a trainer now. You must call me ‘Mr Quirke’.” “A trainer is it? Dinny, yours is a place or state where horses suffer before moving on to More O’Ferrall’s!”
Dinny Quirke did not marry until late in life – even by Irish standards – 60-odd when divorcée Marie Gardiner consented to become his bride.
As the happy couple headed for the registry off ice, Marie sought confirmation that Dinny had at least remembered to buy her a wedding ring. Momentarily disconcerted, Dinny thought quickly, reminding his bride-tobe that she already had such a thing, from her previous marriage. Thus did Marie Gardiner become Marie Quirke, the same wedding band doing duty for both unions.
Denis Quirke combined training with standing stallions, firstly in Wicklow and latterly at Bert House, Athy, where Democratic and Nice Guy stood. Eventually the Quirkes put Bert House on the market.
In Marie’s absence the Honourable Desmond Guinness rocked up, introducing his potential purchasers. Dinny understood the strangely dressed young man in an old army greatcoat to be Mick ‘Jaguar’ (Jagger didn’t register with him), his girlfriend being Marianne. Dinny put little store by these ‘sightseers’. Out of politeness rather than genuine interest he asked Mick ‘Jaguar’ what he did for a living.
“I strum a guitar and sing a few songs.”
Dinny looked dubious.
“You can’t be doing too well, since that’s your father’s old coat you have on you.” Marianne Faithful didn’t actually go round the house, content to play on the lawn with the dogs.