Morris & Essex – Then and Now

By Amy Fernandez

After a 43 year absence, the Morris & Essex revival in 2000 confirmed the glaring abyss that was left in its wake back in 1957.  Yes, it was an all-star event that consistently boasted an A-list lineup of dogs, handlers, judges, and general glitterati, but it certainly didn’t have the market cornered in that respect – then or now.

Another more elusive factor set M&E apart from every other show before or since. That was its incomparable blend of killer competition and social grace.  Entering that fabulous polo field not only guaranteed a front row seat for the biggest battles in this game, it also promised the kind of incomparable personal experience associated with spas and luxury resorts.

In his 1938 show report, Gazette writer Arthur Fredrick Jones compared it to checking into a five star hotel; a compliment rarely (or never) bestowed on any dog show.  M&E introduced that deluxe level of attentive protocol to this realm, and it died with that grand event.

Of course, like every significant occasion, participation was a two-way street. Extending and accepting that coveted invitation carried with it obligations and expectations that defined every aspect of M&E culture. At its height, the gate exceeded 50,000.  Every single spectator turned out in their sharpest finery because they knew the world was watching.

Entries were enormous as Jones’s 1935 show report made clear. “More than 9000 cars are to be parked on the estate of Mr. and Mrs. M. Hartley Dodge; a record in itself! Records! There are so many records being established by this ninth annual M&E KC show that any single mark seems rather lost. Dominating all figures is that dazzling total entry, the largest number of dogs ever cataloged for a one day show anywhere in the world,” he wrote. By then, record entries were simply part of the M&E routine.

Of course, Jones had every right to marvel at the manpower required to manage this gargantuan lawn party. Each ring (47 that year) was bordered by fresh-cut flowers and shaded by green and white canvas tents (14 that year).

Show day required 160 workers on the grounds, in addition to a platoon of vets, medical personnel, waiters, bartenders, caterers and much of Giralda’s full-time staff. Along with roughly 800 people working to pull it off that day, Giralda had three full-time employees planning and coordinating the show year-round.

And, as Jones admits, their efficiency redefined the idea of coordination because nothing rivaled its famously precise clockwork show schedule. Among other things, M&E was the first show noted for a conspicuously top heavy ratio of champions to class dogs. And despite its typical blockbuster entries and cutthroat competition, judging never commenced before the civilized hour of 10 am. Every exhibitor, spectator, and judge was treated as an honored guest, and needless to say, that included a very civilized, leisurely lunch break complete with linen table service, good china, and the kind of meal that demands full attention.

“All the amazing details of Morris and Essex do not become apparent until one has moved back and forth throughout its length and breadth  for several hours,” wrote Jones. True, it took some time to stroll around Giralda’s 500 acres of lushly maintained grounds, but regardless of the daunting logistics, Jones wasn’t kidding when he alluded to the maniacal precision orchestrating this dazzling, indefinable event. At 6:00 PM on the dot, another name entered dog show history and this magical day evaporated leaving many wondering if they had really experienced something so grand.

And so it went until 1957. Today, once again, the dog world gets another glimpse of that magnificent experience.

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Posted by chesliepickett on Oct 1 2015. Filed under Current Articles, Featured. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.