Mexborough and Swinton Times February 18, 1938

Wombwell “Sport”
Death of Mr. John  P. Lingard
Racing Man Who Never Made A Bet

For more than half a century a well  known figure in the ‘sporting life of the Dearne Valley, Mr. John Peacock Lingard, 100, Station Road, Wombwell, died on Friday at the age of 83.

He worked, at Houghton Main Colliery until he was over 70, and at that pit and Darfield Main had been employed for about sixty years. There were at the funeral at Wombwell Cemetery on Monday ten children (six daughters and four sons) all married but one, and a great number of grand-children and great-grandchildren. His wife died 26 years ago.

Mr Lingard had lived from childhood in the Station Road district of Wombwell, moving into the house in which he died on his marriage. All his children were born there.

He was a sporting man in the best sense, in that he loved the open air and was fond of all wild life. In his house is a lark which he kept as, a pet when a boy. He had it stuffed and for over sixty years it has hung on the wall in a glass case. In his early life he was a keen follower of all the sports familiar with those days, including cock-fighting and rabbit coursing, and trained hundreds of whippet dogs for such well known sporting figures as “Ginger” Gadsby, Henry Hodgson, both of whom kept the New Station Inn near his home, and Tommy Dainty, of Goldthorpe.

Familiar to old dog racing “fans” are such names as Tired Tim, Miss Meyrick, What Ho, and Plunger, all of which were in his hands. Of turf-lore, he had the whole calendar at his fingers ends, and would discourse for hours on the notable races and racehorses of bygone days. He could recall from memory all. the notable winners up to sixty years ago, and the day before his death he discussed with lively interest topics of the turf.

In his younger days he was also interested in foot-racing. He trained his son, Mr. John Lingard, for the race track, and it was his proud boast that his son never lost a race in a sprint event. He always had a passion for dogs and later in life followed greyhound racing with equal zest.

A rugged type who had seen some ups and downs in his day, he was respected by all for miles around who were interested in the various forms of racing. But there was one extraordinary feature about Mr. Lingard’s character. Although he was associated with racing people all his life he had a curious antipathy to gambling in any form, and was never known to make a bet—not even on animals he had trained himself. He loved sport for its own sake and was never happier than when he was exercising a dog.