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MR. AND "STEVE" DONAGHUE Hard to Believe Quiet, Suave Little Man Is Famous Jockey of English Turf. NEW YORK, N. T., Oct 18. Mr. Stephen Donoghue, lounging in his suite at the Bilt-more, responding amiably to the queries of interviewers and joking with his friends, Captain Robert Souray, Isaac Whitsed and Henry J. Homer, certainly cannot be the daring jockey of the British turf, the Steve Donoghue of world renown. There is a paradox in this mans nature that defies explanation. Wednesday night after his return from Empire City he barricaded himself in his rooms at the hotel. Captain Souray held what seemed to be an almost impregnable position at the door. Mr. Donoghue was tired. Our intensive welcome had worn him. He was dressing for dinner. It was Steve, himself, who capitulated and ordered the interview begun. He is unusually small, even as jockeys go. His torso is developed, but his legs and feet are incredibly thin and puny. His hands, tco, are smaller than those of our most successful riders. However, in his dinner clothes, there is a significant bulge of the cloth about his shoulders and neck, revealing that he is considerably huskier above the waist than is apparent at a first glance. Mr. Donoghue, for this quiet, suave little man was certainly not Steve Donoghue, politely delayed his departure for the dining room, while he answered what questions he choose to and merely let his lips spread into that infectious grin when he thought a query too pointed. Yes, he thought Papyrus was In excellent condition. Well, he could not say if the Derby winner was in as fine form as he was before the running of the Epsom Derby. He was certain, however, that Papyrus was fit as Jarvis could make him for the big match. Surely, that should dissolve any contrary rumors. Would he win? Well, he didnt come here to ride a lpser. On the ship they told him that horsemen in this country did not believe the English colt had a chance. That was not true. He had talked to many Americans. Many of them seemed to favor Papyrus. Of course they were interested in the match in England. It was nonsense to suppose they were not Hans the. cable reports. There was great interest in England. Mr. Donoghue for a moment dismissed all thoughts of Papyrus, the match, Zev and Sande. He was smiling. Why, this was "Steve." He had never expected anything so aggressive as the welcome extended him here. It was stupendous. The newspapermen here were hardly fair, though. They asked so many questions. He should like to tell them all about the race he could, make known all his thoughts and plans for the great match but that was impossible. "Steve" was reminded that the war had taught us how to welcome celebrities. Yes, he had heard of our enthusiasm on the other side. But this well, a wave of his small hand concluded the sentence. The popularity of Papyrus astounded him. He had been told that Americans would be unanimously in favor of their own champion. Yes, he was quite sure that he would hear that same old agonized plea from the stands, the prayer he had heard at Epsom, Long-champs and in South Africa. He would hear it again at Belmont Park, Saturday "Come on Steve !" But his friends were growing impatient They must dine. "Steve" is certainly the most amiable member of his party. They arose and started for the elevator. And now this astonishing man had somehow switched his personality again. He was Mr. Donoghue. Yes, this match was a great inspiration on the part of American horsemen. It would do much to benefit racing. Were there not international contests in other sports? Well, why not in racing? It was "Mr." Donoghue who descended into the lobby with his friends. And what a triumphant parade it was to the dining room. If Lloyd George himself had stood there at the moment, it is doubtful if he would have been recognized or even our own Jack Dempsey. You can bet your last dime that both "Mr." Donoghue and "Steve" are glad they came to America.
