Friends Flock to Send John Shirreffs on His Way

The tall banner hanging from the façade of the church at the Mission San Luis Rey de Francia proclaimed 2026 the Jubilee Year of St. Francis, founder of the Franciscan order of Catholic priests and more commonly revered as the patron saint of animals. Inside the church, beneath the pine beams of the towering ceiling, nearly all of the 68 polished pews were occupied by the friends and family of John Alexander Shirreffs Jr., whose death on Feb. 12 struck at the very heart of the Thoroughbred racing community. A significant part of that community gathered on a warm, bright winter's day in a sanctuary built more than 200 years ago. Most had made the southbound drive from Los Angeles, intent on being present to honor a man who stood apart, even among his idiosyncratic colleagues in the profession of training the Thoroughbred racehorse. Who was there? It seemed like everyone, some 300 strong. Laffit Pincay Jr. was there. So was Ann Holbrook Moss, Bob Baffert, George Krikorian, Lee Searing, Frank Mirahmadi, Leonard Powell, Corey Nakatani, Zoe Cadman, Martin Panza, Victor Espinoza, John Sadler, and Jeff Blea. At about half past 1, a white horse appeared at the church door pulling a handsome black caisson containing a royal blue casket with golden brass trim. Dottie Ingordo-Shirreffs, John's wife, and her son, David Ingordo, were there to greet the arrival, along with Art and Faye Sherman, Dan and Christina Blacker, Richard and Randi Mandella, Neil and Shawn Drysdale, and Craig and Nancy Dollase. "I had to be here," said John Ivory, a fellow trainer. "He was my friend. I've known John for 40 years, since Bay Meadows when he was first starting out at the track. He's always been the same guy. Always had time for you. He only had a few horses back then, and they wouldn't give him a tack room, so he had to keep all his things in the feed room, out of the way. Then at night, he'd pull his cot into the shed row, and that's where he'd sleep." They came because John Shirreffs was that kind of friend, to both man and beast, and they embraced his history as familiar ground. His sudden death at the age of 80 felt like a cheat when he was still so vital, and there was a barn full of horses still benefitting from his touch. Maybe the next Giacomo, the next Tiago, another Life Is Sweet. Maybe even the next Zenyatta. "When I was training up north, John sometimes would send me horses he had for Ann and Jerry Moss," Art Sherman said. "They'd be 4-, 5-year-old maidens—big, strong things. They'd maybe done nothing more than bucked shins, but John would give them a year. Who does that? We'd break their maidens right off, then go on and win a bunch of stakes." That was the John Shirreffs farrier Tom Halpenny knew. He was there along with Jenine Sahadi, Ron Ellis, Patrick Gallagher, Karen Headley, Derek Lawson, Rick Hammerle, Brice Blanc, Jon Lindo, Kurt Hoover, Juan Leyva, Larry Damore, and Bruno DeBerdt. As the casket rested near the church altar, the mission pastor conducted a simple service that included the 23rd Psalm and a reading from, what else, the Gospel of John. A stranger wandering into the church nave might have guessed that someone of great importance was being celebrated, but wonder at the world in which they moved. Then Jay Cohen, Santa Anita's hornblower, appeared at the side of the pastor attired in his traditional livery. Raising his gleaming herald trumpet, Cohen filled the solemn space with the sound of "Amazing Grace," chilling in its purity. Cohen also knew his audience. As the last echos of "Amazing Grace" died, he added the Call to the Post, and the familiar notes were greeted with a ripple of relieved laughter flitting through the congregation. The church bells rang out the quarter hour, and soon the casket was returned to the horse-drawn caisson for the walk through the mission gates to the cemetery. The throng followed in silent procession—Mac McBride, David Jerkens, and Tom Robbins from Del Mar, Jay Privman, Brad Free, Rayetta Burr, and the crew from the Shirreffs stable shepherded by Shandra Hudson—Mario Espinoza, Frank Leal, Bruce Armstrong, and Cody Prieto. "I've never worked for anyone but John," Armstrong said. "I really don't know what I'm gonna do. Started when I was 18, and I'm 47 now. I started out walking hots and wanted to be a groom, but once John found out I could ride a horse, he had me on the pony, and that's where I stayed. He was like that. Once he found out what you did best, that's what you'd be doing. "I remember when I was young was seeing this girl you could describe as 'exotic,'" Armstrong said. "She came around the barn one day, and the next day John pulls me up. 'Fast women make slow horses,' he said. 'Fast women make slow horses.' I didn't know right away what he meant. It took a while before I finally figured it out." When the casket was finally secured in its vault, Cohen saluted the faithful with a trumpet fanfare, and the bell tower stuck again. Known as the King of Missions, San Luis Rey was built in 1798 and named for the French King Louis IX, patron of the Franciscan order. "Someone said to me, 'Of course, John would be buried at the King of Missions,'" Dottie said. "The environment is so special. Very calming. Not at all sad. And you know how much John loved history. Students come here all the time." Tributes to Shirreffs flowed for the rest of the afternoon, during a reception at a local hotel, as a slideshow played in a constant loop on large screen around the room. John with Zenyatta. John with Baeza. John being interviewed on "60 Minutes." John with his granddaughter, Reagan, in the shedrow with the feed cart. Through it all, Dottie Shirreffs would let her mind drift to what she considered the greatest tribute her husband ever received, thankfully while he was still alive. It was in the autumn of 2009, when Bobby Frankel was in hospice care at home after a ferocious battle with cancer. Dottie had been helping Frankel with the management of his affairs. "The only person Bobby asked specifically to see before he passed was John," Dottie said. "John was surprised, but when the time came he went to the house right away." At the time, Shirreffs had won his Kentucky Derby (G1) with Giacomo and was in the midst of the Zenyatta era. Frankel, only 68, had been in the Hall of Fame since 1995. In successive seasons, they had shared in the training of champion Bertrando. "The two of them spoke about horses, training them, and achieving things with them at the highest levels," Dottie said. "While they talked, John kept squeezing and patting Bobby's knee under the covers of his bed. Making physical contact. After a bit, he could see that Bobby was getting tired. Before he left, John said, still tapping his knee, 'Bobby, I want you to remember one thing—you set the bar for all of us. Thank you.' "After John left, Bobby said that was enough," Dottie added. "He didn't want to talk to anyone else about horses."