PUNCHESTOWN WEEK in 1931 had “Our Lady Correspondent” as busy as, if not busier than, the racing correspondent as she provided a lengthy column of detail about what all the titled ladies – and there were a lot of them – wore at the first day’s racing. The racing correspondent only had to deal with half a page of results, including the Prince of Wales’s Plate which was followed immediately by the Governor-General’s Cup, and the next day’s runners.
A full page of photographs also marked the occasion while it was left to “Our Special Correspondent” to try and sum it all up.
PUNCHESTOWN PAGEANT:
A splendid day’s racing;
Backers’ luckless outing;
The “toppers” that were not worn
PUNCHESTOWN IS one of the big sporting events of the year, and kindly Englishmen (anxious to say the right thing) have named it the “Irish Ascot”. With all respect to them, I think they have not quite hit the mark. Punchestown, it is true, is one of our great social functions; but its appeal is not to society alone. It is a place where every grade meets on common ground.
It would be hard to say exactly why this particular race meeting should seem so typical of the country, but I know that, if I wished to explain Ireland to a stranger, I should be inclined to miss out Tara and the Blarney Stone, and take him to Punchestown instead.
Perhaps, the true explanation is that Punchestown is really a glorified point-to-point fixture; for at these functions, as all are agreed, the real Irishman is to be found.
However this may be, the fact remains that yesterday’s meeting provided what the Victorian reporter would have called a “varied and animated scene”. He probably would have added the epithet “colourful”: but a strict regard for facts prevents me from doing the same. Owing to the vagaries of the weather the women’s frocks, for the most part, were concealed by mackintoshes or warm coats, and the only vivid tones were supplied by the red jackets of the course stewards and the absurd, gargantuan umbrellas of the bookmakers. Variety and animation, however, were there in abundance. The “tic-tac” men supplied most of the latter, and there was certainly variety enough among the visitors. Country squires and farmers jostled in the stands with Dublin stockbrokers, while across the way one saw a dense crowd in which farmers and city workers probably were blended in equal proportion. Altogether, the total numbers were immense, and the stands (including the recent addition) were very crowded. A prominent racegoer told me he had never seen so many at Punchestown before, and I am informed that the takings were £300 in excess of last year’s figures.
I am sorry to state that the Irish (that lawless race) lightly regarded the committee’s advice on the question of top-hats. Even in the private enclosure, where their presence was particularly required, “toppers” were decidedly outnumbered by bowlers and trilbys.
But, perhaps, there is some excuse; for one thing leads to another. A top-hat is useless unless you wear a morning coat and spats to go with it; and to complete the picture you need a pair of race-glasses and a shooting-stick. Then you must carry a mackintosh to protect the morning coat and an umbrella for the top-hat. After all, a man has only two hands. But the committee did request gentlemen to wear silk, and its wishes might have been respected more generally.
To read this story in its original format and all the other items making news on this day in 1931 go to www.irishtimes.com/150