Our Viscount

              Our Viscount born in '53 

Bred from my friend Paddy Dunphy's  The Grand Champion ex Wild Nellie.

I got this great dog from Mollie Colohan in Galway on Paddy's advice.  Unfortunately his promising career was limited by injury. The cause is mostly due to dangerous surfaces. They are often too firm in dry or frosty weather or too soft and slippery during heavy rainfall.
I find it depressing that many of  the fastest have short careers because the turns are just too acute.

 Mollie and Cecil, her husband, invited me to bring my Jane and family and
  spend a fortnight with them during the summer of  '57.  We thoroughly enjoyed our stay.  I remember the highlight being a day trip to the Aran Islands in Galway Bay.  Cecil took great pride in nursing our youngest lad, Simon.  The other two Walter and Warwick entertained all the passengers with a dance as an islander played an accordion.

I learned a lot about greyhounds from Paddy Dunphy. When travelling in the south of Ireland I often called on him when passing through Castlecomer.  His Grand Champion was popular at stud and attracted a lot of bitches.  Paddy often accepted a pair of pups from a litter instead of the fee.  There were times when I called on him and was invited to join him in visiting breeders who were rearing pups for him.  Sometimes we didn't get back until very late and Paddy would find a bed for me.

 In discussions I  advised him to bring one of his best dogs to England and enter it for the  Derby at White City.  This involved a stay of six weeks and had never been attempted before.   After much thought and planning  he brought over his The Grand Canal in 1962.   He had his food and drink sent over from Kilkenny every week.   He  stayed with the dog at the GRA Hook kennels and his pride and joy went into the record books as the winner of the English Derby.

Some of my oldest greyhound friends

Some of my oldest greyhound friends

One I would like to tell you about is John Doris. His parents came from Mayo and Sligo, and they emigrated to the states. He lived to be 102 and I don't remember anybody older.   He was born in Brooklyn  New York in 1903, and moved back to Longford with his parents when he grew up.   For his stamina he received congratulations from George Bush and of course Mary MacAleese, the president of Ireland.
He was a  very successful business man and among his interests was the promotion of greyhound racing at Longford  under the management of the popular Billy Bligh.   I got to know these  special characters through entering a greyhound at their track while Jane and I spent our first two years in Dublin.   ! well remember that enjoyable evening because Jane and our new born son Walter came with me.   We also had the company of Jim Fallon from Palmerstown - we met no better friend there .  To add to our enjoyment our dog was a winner.   We called him Wheatfield Atom - because  he weighed just 56 lbs.  That was just one of the eighteen races he ran in Ireland.   He was beaten only at Celtic and Dunmore where the  long  straights gave an advantage to opponents who were bigger.

Joe Booth & His Wife

This is the famous Joe Booth & His wife with one of their big winners during the eighties.

Joe always broke down in tears whenever one of his champions broke a hock.  

I first put a plaster on a hock for him in 1951 after a race at Dillington Park in Barnsley.

A Return Home

During my long life I have been fortunate to have had a number of real family friends.   In August 2015  I enjoyed being home in Donegal at a gathering which included many relatives.   Having the company of my Jane, our sons Warwick and Simon with his wife Lyn made it a really memorable week.   It was actually the second of such events. The first was organised ten years ago by enterprising members of the famous Doohan family from Drumnatinney in Donegal who had emigrated to New York for a better life. Warwick and I felt lucky to be invited to that original and unique week.  This recent one was equally enjoyable and it seems likely that it will not be the last.

The great family of fourteen were born to James from the Rosses and Maggie who was one of my Dad's sisters.  The one I knew best was called Bridget or Birdie because she wheeled me in my pram to the strand until I was a year old.

That strand, known as the Back Strand, with its sand dune banks, clean white sand, and fabulous views out to Tory Island, is still there, almost totally unchanged, near Drumnatinney where I was born. There is no building, no caravans, no cafe, and no shops. The only addition has been a life saving ring tied to a post.

My good Dad and Mama slaved and made many sacrifices to rear and educate my three younger brothers, two sisters and myself . Three months before I qualified from the Vet college the sudden death of our wonderful Dad was a bitter blow to our dear mother and every one of us.

Dad had been a life-long supporter of Britain, but he had a brother, a priest, who rarely agreed with him.  He called on us a few months after the war with Hitler started. British troops had sustained heavy losses and the holy one took pleasure in forecasting that the Swastika would soon be hanging in London. I still remember Dad grabbing his arm, pulling him off the chair and kicking him out the door onto the street.

At the time Dad died, Tony was on the Medical course at Trinity, Ted was at the Veterinary College, Owen was giving his life for the Church, and Eileen was also studying. Carmel was working in a chemist's shop so that she could earn enough to support the family. Mama decided that it made economic sense for her to buy a wee house in Dublin and move there where Carmel was working.

Whenever we went over to Donegal we often stayed with Mary and Danny in Cashelnagor. Danny would play wonderful music on his fiddle. We would also visit Packie and Veronica, Alfie and Pat, and Josie and Teresa.   It was hard to get out of any of these houses without refreshment to help us on our way.   Our Warwick, Simon, and his son Neil, enjoy spending time with the next generation, and are good friends with Seamus and Marie, and Denis. Jude has also been over in the last month.

On our way to Donegal we always pass through Dublin and visit Raoul in the nursing home. Tony and Bridie, who live in Celbridge, regularly visit him and we are very grateful to them for their love and care.

My Aunt Bella married Henry McGee, a brave sailor who often went out to fish in stormy seas in a small boat. Bella lived with her family in Knockduff. We always visited her daughter Mary, and her son Father Eugene from Glasgow would be over every summer.  Sadly they have both passed on but this year we called again and met Henry McGee and his wife Marie.   Near Knockduff is the wonderful Marble Hill strand, close to Port na Blagh where we sometimes stayed in the hotel years ago. When I was a small boy aged about four or five I used to go on holidays to my Aunt Rose Sharkey in the Rosses. I remember watching the trains pass the house on the way to Burtonport. In 1925 four unfortunate people were killed when the train to the Rosses was blown off the viaduct.  That story is often spoken about to this day.

In the old days we always used to call on our relative John the Saddler in Dunfanaghy. He was noted for giving news of all the relatives we used to know.

John McConnell and other good friends

One of the best friends I met in my life was John McConnell from county Meath.  John grew up with a sister and nine brothers at Mitchelstown between Kells and Ardee. I also knew two of his brothers Kevin and Dickie.  John told me that as a school boy he often drove cattle over the sixteen miles to the Dublin market.   In his teens he did farm work with horses and later with tractors.
When Jane and I settled in Rugby we were very lucky to  meet two other life-long friends.
They were  Bill Mannion and his good wife Nuala. Bill was from Roscommon and Nuala from Tyrone.    She was one of the distinguished Donnelly family of Lakeview House in Coagh.  Her sister
Ethna was a respected matron in Larne hospital and so was Eve in Northampton.  Another sister Creagh was married to John Black who was among the best helpers I met in the greyhound world. Her brother Brendan was a priest who served in Florida for twenty years and another brother Kevin operated a thriving nursery from their home.

Photo of Tony, me, Warwick, Jane, Raoul and Bridie

At a party in Dublin to celebrate Raoul's 80th birthday : - Tony Doohan, myself, our middle son Warwick, my dear wife Jane, my brother Raoul and Bridie Doohan.

I`m sure I have told you before that I had a brother who was a Priest.  His name was Owen Roland.  We called him Raoul.  Our Mamma was a devout Catholic.  I was the eldest of the family and I think she hoped I would be a Priest.  She was also disappointed when Tony became a Doctor and again when Ted followed me into the Veterinary college.  The happiest day of her life was the one when Owen became ordained.  When she stood up to speak at the celebration dinner she said "Firstly I wish to thank God for giving me two good girls and now one good son."  

Sadly Tony and Ted and our two wonderful sisters Carmel and Eileen are gone and Raoul is in a home in Dublin.  I am glad to say he has frequent visits from my cousin Tony Doohan and his loving wife Bridie. I have no better friends.  

Les Fowler

I would like to write a few lines to a couple of my oldest friends in the greyhound world because we are the same age and therefore I can imagine how they may be feeling ... probably tired but hopefully cheerful and on the way to being  energetic again after a few hours of sound sleep and rest.  
My thoughts are with  Les and Gwen Fowler of Luton who were equally kind to their dogs whether they were winners or losers.

This is Les wearing his uniform and medals on a Remembrance Day commemorating his five years' service in the desert with Field Marshal Montgomery.

The Ancient Sport of Coursing Hares With Greyhounds

Despite the illogical Ban on coursing by Blair's Labour government in 2005 the sport has continued to thrive and be enjoyed in Ireland.    British coursing supporters still travel to the ports of  Rosslare, Dublin or Belfast and some bring runners to compete for the valuable prizes at the major meetings.
      Since I became a teenager I got much enjoyment from watching lurchers, collies or greyhounds chasing hares in meadows or foothills.  The nearest tracks to me were at   Derry and Lifford but  I did not see any racing until I was almost twenty years of age.   I did however  read about big races that were run at tracks in Belfast and Dublin.   I gradually had thoughts or dreams of going as far south as Clounanna the great meadow where the Irish Coursing Cup was staged.
The hares there were noted for their strength and stamina.and the majority were able to outwit the hounds.   Their fitness was due to the efforts and enthusiasm of all of the committee, stewards, and  landowners. They ensured that, when the pasture was frozen, sheaves of oats were provided for the hares. At coursing meetings, it was not uncommon to see a pair of hounds stop for a rest whenever a tired hare rested.

Reg Fowler from Luton

One of the greatest characters I have ever met in the greyhound world is Les Fowler from Luton.   He arrived at my kennels with an injured greyhound one day in 1957.   He was accompanied by his wife Gwen.  They immediately impressed me as a couple with a deep love of dogs.  They were to become regular and highly respected clients.   They treated their hounds as if they were children and aimed to keep no more than four.   Whenever one of their runners sustained a serious injury they never considered the financial loss they might suffer.   Their sole concern was the pain it might be feeling.  The more I saw of them the more I respected them.   They were always so grateful for everything I tried to do for their hounds.    The manner of Les was so humble that initially I did not recognise what a brave and famous client had come so far to see me.
There came a day when I visited them because they had a hound who over the telephone seemed
too ill to travel.  The patient was in their warm kitchen and wearing a coat.   When I had examined it I looked around.   My gaze lingered on the decorations  -- four pairs of them - - on the left lapel of his black uniform.
This is Les in his uniform which  until recently he  has worn regularly on Remembrance days.

When war declared in 1939 Reg signed up. 

Charley - A true friend

On the last Saturday in March we were shocked by a fatal heart attack to Charley  our precious Jack Russell at the age of eleven.    He had spent the morning with me at the weekly market in Beverley.    He was his usual self and  enjoyed meeting all our human and canine friends.   When we went home Jane declined to go to the library with me for lunch.   She had something to do on the computer and wished me to leave Charley  with her.   I left the back door open so that he could go out on the lawn when he wished.   When I returned he was not in the house and  Jane went to call him in.
  She was awfully shocked  and burst into tears on finding him dead under a tree.
     I tried to console her by saying he could not have suffered..  I went to fetch a spade but she found one before I did and  insisted on doing the depressing digging.
Charley had been popular with all who knew him and we are still receiving expressions of sympathy over our loss.   He was the closest to us of all the wonderful dogs whose company we had enjoyed - maybe because in retirement we always had time for him.  I remember the first Jack Russell we had in 1947.    We have since had eleven, and every one was a truly honest and loyal friend.   I often have reason to wish why more of us cannot behave as well as the great majority of the dogs we have known.
Many people prefer a Jack Russell to pedigree breeds of dog because the Jack Russell is not inbred the way many pedigree breeds are.

                During the first twenty four hours of life without Charley I never considered replacing him.   The thought seemed unreal.  I also wanted time to discuss with Jane how we could transfer the love we had for Charley to a stranger.    If I did think of  having another I would favour one who moved at our own speed.

My concern about greyhounds in racing

After becoming a vet and spending over twenty years treating greyhounds and attending lectures by specialists  I became concerned about the incidence of injury and my limited success in treating the more serious ones.  I started studying these and examining them  post mortem.   I also began writing about prevention.  

I blamed the turf surfaces for many of them.   Its condition was dependent on the amounts of sunshine and rain provided by the weather.  When dry and hard, it caused stress and fractures.   When wet or soft  the grass was soon killed and left mud which provided no grip.  There was a peat surface at New Cross.  It proved satisfactory in normal weather but on a wet evening I remember seeing runners slip and fall on the turns.

 The only answer to heavy rain was a canopy suspended about 2M over the running surface.     The only canopies I remember seeing were at  Liverpool 's White City, at Gosforth and  at the original Crayford.  When these wore out they were never replaced.

Hearing of the almost universal use of sand for surfaces in America, Australia and Spain I wondered why we in Britain and Ireland continued to injure thousands of greyhounds on turf and then spend thousands of notes replacing them.   I began writing articles and appealing to promoters and racing managers about the advantages of sand surfaces.  People were slow to listen and those who agreed with me had little infuence.

My long campaign was eventually successful.   For its acceptance I had to thank one man.    He was my client, friend and big owner --  the late  Joe  Haden  the Tyre Man For All Wheels beside me  in Coventry.    Yes, it was Joe who paid for the Adverts  "Sand those  Bends".   He had three of his champions in my hospital at the time.  Sadly, within two years poor Joe then passed away.

Another big cause of trauma is still with us.   It is  the leaning position that must be adopted on our acute turns.   Force is thrown on to the outer side of the left limbs and  more severely  on the inner side of the right limbs.

Greyhounds  with their long legs are designed for galloping in an upright stance.  They can be comfortable on a circular track provided  its radius is sufficient to allow them to remain upright.                               

Greyhounds CANNOT  TURN  in an upright posture on an acute turn.   Even the hare finds that impossible. On tight turns  all dogs are forced to check and to lean.   On extreme turns they may stumble or fall.   The stress during motion is proportionate to their force and speed.    Consequently few big fast greyhounds escape injury on our turns for twenty races.

There was a time when I used to purchase greyhounds for clients.   I used to feel embarrassed whenever I  bought a big fast one for three or four thousand and had it come back -- before winning a decent prize -- for treatment of an incurable injury.

I preferred to supply ones weighing between 50 and 60 lbs because they were also

more likely to remain sound for a few years.  They were also more likely to win graded races because the Grader would tend to favour them.

There always were owners and trainers who loved their runners and kept them with loving care until death.   They were worried about injury every time they released a dog.

But there were promoters and  managers with little concern for them.  When short of runners, managers visited kennels and inspected those who were resting, lame or sick.   Trainers were ordered to get rid of those unlikely to recover within a month and replace them with sound ones.   Hounds were raced on surfaces that were frozen or otherwise dangerous - while trainers in tears - after seeing one  lamed  were fined up to £500 by the  stewards - for refusing to run others.  If they did not have an owner who could pay the fine they were dismissed.   I well remember the distraught expression on the face of kind trainers like Charlie Lister  and the invalid  -  Mal Thomas.  
Nobody cared a hoot whether a trainer,  wife or kids had supper  or a bed for the night.  

British greyhound racing was primarily a means of getting easy- money for promoters and bookmakers.

I was sacked from the position of Vet at my local track when I gave notice of refusal to attend whenever conditions made the track dangerous.   The promoter was able to employ another Vet with an offer of an extra £200  a year.

  We did not have the home-finding arrangements that have been introduced in recent years.   Few owners had kennels, or could afford to pay for the keep of hounds who could not win.   Many were shot, drowned or just abandoned on roads sometimes on the way home from tracks.

 Reading about the longer careers of greyhounds on the larger tracks in Australia reminded me of my wish to go there in 1949.    As I approached retirement with time to travel I thought seriously about seeing the big country.   There were problems to be considered.   The first was that Jane my good wife would not enjoy being driven up to 200 miles a day just to see as many tracks as possible.    She was not totally happy about my going without her but -  as usual - she did not stop me .  She accepted my absence gracefully and with love.

 I did not have the confidence to undertake the journey alone.  I had mentioned the trip to a few younger friends who were single.    They were too polite to say so but I thought they wondered  whether I was quite right.   Then Jane said to me " your friend John McConnell has been with you to Ireland for dog racing, horse racing, coursing, hurling, football and funerals and although older than you he may expect to be invited ".   I told John that I would be away for six weeks and that he would be welcome  if he wished to join me.   After two days thinking about it he was delighted to come.

 In '95 on  November 9  we flew to Hong Kong in 11 hours  and after another eight we arrived in Melbourne.  We were  2 years late to see Michael Kinane winning the Melbourne Cup on Vintage Crop for Dermot Weld .  But  all I wanted to see  were dog  tracks  with safer radii than any of ours.   I  could no longer accept  that the broken hocks and wrists that retired so many were just  'one of those things' or caused by  'sheer bad luck'.   I considered such language an affront to people who love dogs.

Poor John is no longer with us.    He died at 90 in July ‘08 and I was late in getting to his funeral because of pile-ups on the M1 and blocked exits.   On every day I have since enjoyed  I remember him for risking his life with me on  sand-tracks, away in the outback with only kangaroos and locusts for company.   John's  great work-mate  Hugh Gill from Malin Head  another martyr to hard work - -is also gone.   Hugh too is  much missed by his two sons, six daughters and a thousand friends.  He left us in 2010 at the age of 98.

When I booked our flight to Melbourne I telephoned  Mr Gavin Fitzpatrick - Keeper of their Greyhound Stud Book - and asked him to please book us into a hotel for the night of our arrival.    I was much relieved when he said " I look forward to seeing you and your friend at the arrival hall."   Those words banished my final fears of our journey into unknown territory.

 Gavin  was there  with a really warm welcome.   He helped us take our luggage to the car park and drove us out to Tarneit where his charming wife Rubina had prepared a big meal and two comfortable beds for us. After a long breakfast and an exchange of the histories of Donegal and Melbourne  they drove us to a garage where I hired a car.    They waved us Good Bye and Good Luck after advice  which we were to appreciate on every day of our adventure.    I still remember how much I looked forward to seeing their safe tracks and telling people about them when I got home.

Now almost twenty years older I realize how naive I was to think that the NGRC might give priority to safe tracks.   In '94  I attended a meeting on Canine Welfare organised by the National Canine Defence League.   One of the speakers was  Doctor Robert Hubrecht  from the Universities Federation of Animal Welfare.   His organisation worked alongside industry and government on scientific issues.  In his speech on greyhound welfare he said "Information from abroad on Track Design is not being fully utilised  and if any promoter was interested... he would produce a feasibility paper."   His offer was choked before anyone got time to think about it.... The  NGRC  secretary  jumped up  saying  "It would be  too expensive  to change track configurations."

One of my frustrating experiences in trying to help owners involves the few who say that making a track safer  would result in more speed and risk of injury.     What  sort  of  Talk  is That  

Gobble De Gook ?   I prefer the reality of the safer tracks we visited.in those six weeks  down under.

Attending the evening greyhound meeting at Sandown Stadium by invitation from the manager John Stevens was an exciting and memorable experience.  It was different class to anything I had seen in Ireland, in Britain or in Europe.  The presentation of the racing was more professional.  The lighting was ever so bright and our view from the restaurant was excellent.   The entry of the greyhounds for every race was announced with an exciting burst of music from the band.   We dined with  Mrs Conroy  the widow of the late Chairman,  Fred Reed the famous retired trainer,  Neil Mackenzie  the official photographer  and  the resident  successful trainer Jeanette Krewter.    We  enjoyed delicious wine with the great food.

     I enjoyed watching the racing and saw no greyhound injured.   I attributed this to three factors.   Firstly the level manicured sand surface.   Secondly the inside lure which invited all the runners to look toward the inside of the track and concentrate on it.      Thirdly the easier turns gave nearly every runner room to run fluently without bumping, baulking, checking or crowding.   Our outside lures  encourage some runners to move out on turns --- for two reasons.     Firstly it is natural to do so because that's where the hare is.   Keeping close to the inner rail demands effort and adoption of  the leaning posture.  Secondly greyhounds who are keen on the hare try to be there when it stops.   In getting there collisions with a railer are common..

One of the reasons I write about greyhounds is because I hoped that some readers might do something to reduce the injury rate.   I have been interested in welfare since 1940 and started writing about it in 1957.   By then I had raced greyhounds or seen racing on more than a hundred tracks.  There was nothing arcane about what I wrote.    It was just common sense and truth.   I was heartened in '58 when statutory control was introduced by Dail Eireann  but Westminster continued to ignore the fate of hounds here.   Tracks were allowed to spring up like mushrooms without veterinary advice on safety requirements and up to ninety per cent of races were run without the presence of a Vet..

       In the Winter of  '57 I had accepted responsibility for the care of 200 racing greyhounds and contracted to attend the race meetings at Coventry and Leicester tracks.  The position appealed to me because of the plan to replace the dilapidated buildings which housed some staff as well as dogs and build modern kennels and rooms where I could treat the sick and injured with the compensation money for the damage by the Blitz in 1940.   After giving loyal service for five months I asked Charlie Ochiltree the General Manager for news from the City Council Planners about my new premises.  I never had any warning of the shock I was to get.

 He said  "The only application before them  is for four hundred houses " !   I found it hard to believe that a man who owned one of Britain's biggest hotels could treat me so . The folk I grew up with did not know how to behave like that.     But I gave him a week's notice so that he could find another vet.    I knew of one anxious to get the salary because it would enable him  to employ another assistant.

On a cold evening  during that week  I  reported to the Manager that some patches were frozen and needed.trampling on to make racing possible but unless there was a rise in temperature the surface was unlikely to be safe.   The first race was run without incident.   Fog  reduced visibility for the second  and two runners overtook the McWhirther sledge hare.  Harvey the driver could not see it clearly and a  runner damaged his toes on it.

   The Manager reported to the Promoter over the telephone.   He was told to tie a flash lamp to the sledge and continue with the racing.   During the next race the lamp fell off, the hare stopped and all dogs jumped on it.    Two more sustained toe injuries before the meeting was abandoned.

     I hope there are some alive and well who were there that evening.   Until he died a month ago in Manchester one whom I knew well was the respected trainer Joe Kelly.  He was ten years younger than I am  and much missed by a great many in Britain and Ireland..  I first met Joe in 1951 when he was winning races with a black dog called Druman Rambler by Selyom ex Shaggy Miss at Independent & NGRC tracks as far north as Dundee and as far south as Plymouth.   He was dedicated honest and truthful and always happy when he had a good greyhound.   He was among the ten best best trainers I ever knew and came from Kilrush in Clare - an area noted for great hounds. 

I sent a letter of sympathy to his good wife Paddy.   She is a daughter of John one of the famous Murphy brothers from Dromintee in county Armagh.