AKC’s First President – Part 2
Click here to read the complete article
By Amy Fernandez
Issues raised by the Pointer protest invited an avalanche of opinionated advice long before social media facilitated this unsavory process. In other words, it was a non-stop global embarrassment for the American purebred fancy–especially those big players with a major stake in the game–and there were quite a few by then. For instance, Westminster had another show right around the corner. If they had any hopes of redeeming the club’s posh reputation, it wasn’t in the cards.
That October 1884 event has gone down in history as “the forgotten show.” Yes, it was Westminster’s singular experiment with a two-show year. Its format shifted the focus from Gundogs, which might have explained the lower entry. Most likely, Westminster’s forgotten show signified the club’s collective sentiment about it. Show secretary Elliot Smith may have emerged from the weekend with ulcers, high blood pressure, and PTSD. It started off okay. Spectators streamed through the gate to meet celebrity exhibits like a son of the heroic Barry from the St. Bernard hospice and a pair of Greenland Esquimaux dogs fresh off the boat after rescuing arctic explorer Adolphus Greely.
Unfortunately, those headliners didn’t offset the overwhelming public and media reaction to this unusual event. Billed as a Non-Sporting show, no one quite understood the logical basis for grouping this eclectic assortment of breeds together. Along with Hounds, Terriers, Sheepdogs and Toys of every stripe, the show featured newly introduced breeds and an interesting array of canine rarities. The Times described the Mexican Hairless Mee Too, lounging in the show’s most sumptuously decorated benching area. And true to form, the show’s lone Chinese Crested exhibit fascinated crowds with its innate talent for “howling like a coyote.” The Times called it, “a cacophonous canine concert” audible blocks away. “Two Esquimaux dogs of Greely relief fame put their heads together and swore that they had never imagined such a din in a free republic.”
Collective bewilderment was soon eclipsed by the first of many incidents. “The Bulldogs in the show are Non-Sporting, on the plan that they are never allowed to chew another bull or get chewed up…but they are just as disreputable looking as the common herd…a vicious looking and acting bull named President owned by E.C. Porter of New Haven was seized in the back by Harry Hill’s mastiff yesterday morning…Give a mastiff a grip on a Bulldog and it goes hard with the bull. President got off yesterday with a big piece out of his back and is under a surgeons care.” That ended President’s Westminster chances, but hope-fully not his show career. The mastiff apparently remained on the bench even though it had required six people to pull him off a Deerhound he attacked at the May show.
Attention was soon diverted from Mr. Hill to Mrs. Charles Wheatleigh, owner/handler of Tu-Tu, second in Open Pugs, “When Mrs. Wheatleigh, indignant at being given second place, examined Mr. Hammond’s entry, she found a suspicious looking nasty yellow stain on his chest. Examining his nails, she found they were not the right color. Then she entered a protest…” Paring down the saga, The Times explained that the show vet examined a hair sample from Hammond’s entry 415 imported two weeks earlier–apparently with a bad dye job ineffectively concealing a large white blaze. “Now, a white patch is death to his chances as a winner of any prize. So the decision was revised,” the report concluded. Quoting the official statement issued by Westminster secretary Elliott Smith, the Times raised the obvious question, “Why the judge did not see the stain–which even casual visitors noticed–is a problem that a good many are trying to find out.” The club’s puzzling decision was equally big talk. Club officials said, “We see no reason under the evidence submitted to accuse the exhibitor of No. 415 of having been guilty of fraud.” The implication of preferential treatment for both Hammond and Hill didn’t reflect favorably on Westminster.
While everyone mulled that over, Mrs. Wheatleigh victoriously brandished her vindicating statement from Elliott Smith, who, The Times also noted, did brisk business brokering dogs off the benches. These included a contingent of Greyhounds and Yorkshire Terriers for export by the Japanese Consul. “All this is in addition to Professor Hampton’s trick dogs–to many the best part of the show.”
It was an unmitigated public relations disaster by any definition. No worries, because this chaotic state of affairs was over. The Times reported, “That night at Madison Square Garden a permanent organization was effected by the election of officers… The organi-zation will be known as the American Kennel Club…a preliminary meeting to organize a national bench show association was held in Philadelphia in September. It was proposed that an association be formed embracing all clubs which held or proposed to hold bench shows.”
That’s kind of what happened. In less than a decade, American purebred sports had garnered grassroots support far beyond Gundogs and field trials. In the months following the Pointer Protest, legions of concerned fanciers rallied to the cause. Actually, two groups convened to address the situation at the Philadelphia Kennel Club show that weekend. The first meeting on September 16, headed by that rabble-rousing Scot, James Watson, drew a tremendous response. Unfortunately, 75 opinionated dog people in one room wasn’t a recipe for decisive action. The mess would have dragged on for months if not for the developments the following evening.
In contrast, only ten people attended the September 17th meeting mainly because almost no one supported their proposed solution. The September 27, 1884 issue of American Field described it a week after the deal went down. “Mr. G. de Forest Grant spoke at some length upon the question of organization, favoring a confederation of clubs with power to arbitrate field trials as well as bench show matters…Major Taylor replied that a club formed of bench show associations would work and be of no harm to exhibitors and breeders who could have representation through these clubs, as the interests of exhibitors and associ-ations were so closely allied that what was good for one was good for the other.”
This unusual consti-tutional structure of a club of clubs was rightly perceived as a ploy to limit participation and ensure that the agenda of a small clique dominated. Most of the dog world considered it a doubtful solution to those rampant problems highlighted at Westminster’s recent show. No, it didn’t make a lot of sense, but it happened. “We hereby issue an invitation to all kennel clubs and show associations to send a delegate to represent them at Philadelphia the second day of the show.” This announcement was placed in the August 2, 1884 issue of American Field by the meeting organizers, J.M. Taylor and Elliot Smith. Their proposed agenda included, “Perfecting uniform standards and a set of rules, giving instructions to judges to prevent them from using the standard they desire or divide classes as they wish, placing restrictions on champion classes and requiring each association to keep and publish record of all winners.”
The Pointer Protest speeded up the process but this bench show/field trial merger was actually in the works for awhile. That widening gap between the sport’s growth and lack of centralized authority was strewn with wreckage of failed attempts including brief ventures of Taylor and Smith. The roadblock in every case boiled down to the same the possessive mentality and ruthless opportunism that had undermined this concept since NAKC first put it out there way back in 1876.
Both Westminster and NAKC had pub-lished regulations and had no intention of deferring to the other. Nor did either of them possess the clout to enforce rules within its own territory, never-mind policing other clubs. Recapping this impasse for American Field, September 6, 1884, Rowe tried to drum up some enthu-siasm for this plan. “The experiment of a club composed of individuals has been tried and has failed. The National American Kennel Club was brought into life by us. We originated the idea, issued the call to those interested in kennel matters, got them together and the club was formed. […] It might be said it was premature and came into existence before it was required. To a certain extent, yes, on the other hand, no. As a governing body on kennel matters there was not the scope for it that there is now. In February 1876, there had been but five comparatively small shows held and the largest yet, the Chicago show, was then being held. […] But independent of everything else, the National American Kennel Club demonstrated that a club of individuals has not been a success [….] This would not be the case with an association of clubs.”
Perhaps, but by then, this fragmented legislative system was entrenched in the sport. Along with more fanciers, breeds, dogs, and shows, every dominant faction had a significant powerbase fueling conflicting agendas and undermining each other’s authority. World peace seemed more likely than uniting America’s dog world. Still, it was obvious that someone somewhere would eventually succeed in forming a national kennel club. Taylor and Smith knew which side of the fence they wanted to be on when that day dawned. They joined forces. And under the circumstances there was some rationale for a radically different approach.
We’ll never know if Taylor and Smith were friends, but this Rocky and Bullwinkle duo were ideal business partners. Taylor was all about getting in on a good deal, usually via personal charm. Busting down the door also worked. Smith, the group’s legal eagle, specialized in fine print, loopholes and exit strategies. Right or wrong, on October 22 their official election results put Taylor in the driver’s seat of this autocratic regime.
According to AKC historian John Marvin’s official version, “Major Taylor was active in bench shows and field sports; he also seems to have been ahead of his time in the area of conservation. The infant AKC enjoyed the benefit of his prominence and prestige when he became its first president.” In another account for the 1934 Gazette he said, “Major James M. Taylor’s extensive activities gave him a clear view of the situation. He knew that there was cheating at dog shows…He was aware of the frequent intimidation of judges…” No one did it better than Taylor. Arguably, he possessed the singular vision, courage, and decisiveness to stake a claim for AKC. While everyone else bickered and moaned, he put it out there. He was the battle-ready type this situation required and an equal match for the high octane authority of General Alexander Stewart Webb, the illustrious Civil War veteran at the helm of Westminster. He seemed like an ideal choice, but it’s hard to envision candidates lining up for this awful job. “It may have seemed to him at the time that this was only another of his manifold activities on behalf of the sport,” Marvin said. For Taylor, it was just another shrewd gamble in an eventful, triumphant career.
Immediately following his election that weekend, the group revised its name from National Bench Show Association to American Kennel Club, Taylor’s previous kennel club experiment. That set the tone for his presidency which essentially came down to “my way or the highway”. From his perspective it was business as usual. However, none of those founding members could be accused of excessive dedication to the altruistic ideal Marvin described as, “A cooperative effort to bring stability to the national interest in purebred dogs.” It was all about defending the status quo. Their January 1885 meeting focused on the club’s newly unveiled regulations, especially Rules 8-9 giving AKC authority to recognize championships earned under auspices of other organizations –basically the message was play ball or pay the price.
Throughout his presidency Taylor continued to buy/sell/broker dogs/judge and keep his name in the news. Definitely a social butterfly, business and pleasure were inseparable. Nor did he consider his position as AKC president sufficient reason to tone down his hard drinking, grandiose style.
Taylor was a betting man and generally came out ahead simply because he had an excellent eye for type and could spot quality a mile away. He earned wide respect for his dog sense, although from his perspective, judging was all about payback. Incompetent judging comes in many forms, but none surpasses the harm done by overlooking quality for political gain. To his eternal discredit, some of Taylor’s outrageous decisions involving important Pointers and Setters were documented by various breed historians.
Of course, bad judging is a subjective determination relative to the breed standard. And in Taylor’s view, that was also fixable. Graham admitted, “There has been a conflict, sometimes bitter, between those who would adhere strictly to English ideals and standards and those who would press into recognition the American changes. …English Setter men conducted this factional contest most sharply. Soon after the introduction of bench shows in America, the school led by bench and field judges like Major Taylor and Mr. P. H. Bryson insisted on awarding bench prizes to the lighter type.”
Within a decade the Llewellin Setter evolved in a drastically different direction and one of Taylor’s first projects was revising the standard to sanction this field trial type. On April 8, 1885, he appointed himself to chair his newly created English Setter standard committee. Not only did this move violate even the loosely defined constitutional procedures then in place, but many breeds had no official standard at that point. Even Marvin’s AKC history couldn’t ignore the endless PR emergencies that defined Taylor’s presidency. He wrote, “Major Taylor was found to be both abrasive and self-willed. In his high office he interpreted the rules in accordance with his personal views and without consultation. These actions caused much controversy and embarrassment resulting in several public retractions of positions affirmed previously by Taylor.”
Things weren’t going well. By March, almost half of the original member clubs had bailed out. After eight months in office, the board called another annual election. Marvin recounted that May 19, 1885 meeting saying, “Opposition to Taylor was both strong and outspoken. After a very stormy session, however, he was reelected by a very close margin of 6 to 5.” An executive meeting followed where 28 committees were appointed to formulate breed standards. True to form, important breeds were doled out like political payoff. Taylor and Bryson commandeered the English Setter standard. E.C. Sterling, that Pointer Protest star, headed the Pointer committee. Less interesting breeds were assigned like extra homework.
That narrow reelection didn’t change a thing. Marvin said, “Taylor continued to rule with an iron hand and interpret rules according to personal views.” His English Setter standard committee kept pushing for drastic revisions. Graham said, “American modifications….were not accepted by the other side and the dispute remains where it stood.” Of course, as Graham went on to explain, this ultimately took a serious toll on the breed’s progress.
It’s fair to say that fate placed Taylor in the center of the action in a capacity to flex his authoritative powers in far-reaching ways. Certainly some of his activities were contrary to the overall good of the sport. Even so, it’s doubtful that a more timid, politically correct leader could have weathered the storm. His uncom-promising, domineering approach put him at the top of the game. And his possessive attitude had some justification. The sport had come a long way since 1874 and Taylor laid the groundwork for much of that progress.
But those traits didn’t garner the mainstream support AKC des-perately needed. Even when he had the upper hand, Taylor couldn’t abandon his defensive, self-serving agenda. His controlling personality became an ongoing liability. Clubs were quitting left and right. At the December 16, 1885 meeting, Louisville withdrew its membership and Taylor was forced to resign.
Vice president Elliot Smith took over. His major contribution was facilitating the transfer of Nicholas Rowe’s studbook, which became the basis of the AKC registry. Smith resigned three months after the deal was completed and his successor didn’t last much longer. AKC finally got effective leadership in the form of the equally crazy, headstrong August Belmont, its fourth president in four years. It truly was the job no one wanted.
True to form, Taylor didn’t take his ouster personally. “Major Taylor continued to serve the American Kennel Club in various capacities for the rest of his life…the pages of the Gazette attest to the faithfulness with which he attended and took part in AKC meetings.” He continued to serve as delegate for multiple clubs and remained an AKC board member on and off until shortly before his death in 1910. Good or bad, he also remained at the center of America’ dog world as one of the busiest Hound and Sporting judges and a prolific journalist.
There was much to criticize about Taylor’s presidency. He did damage and shamelessly exploited his position for personal gain. Controlling, combative, and definitely not corporate material, he never concealed his motives or opinions, which was part of the problem. Or maybe he was simply too honest. Having seen it from the start, he understood the nature of the sport and refused to pretend otherwise. Either way his final, crucial contribution to purebred dogs has stood the test of time. Field Trial Records of Dogs in America, published in 1907, listed statistics on every dog and trial from 1874 to 1907. Marvin, that stickler for detail, called it, “an astonishing accomplishment for one man… unrivaled for accuracy and completeness. …Owners, dogs, sires, dams, handlers, prizes–all are in-cluded.” Adding, “later students of the subject have found the book virtually free from error.” It Taylor’s wild ride as AKC president.
Short URL: https://caninechronicle.com/?p=99806
Comments are closed