1978 United States Open Brittany Championship
By Sam Clements
Jacolet's Wandering Star, white and orange Brittany Spaniel female, owned by Paul D. Hinch of Tulsa, Okla., and handled by Rick Smith, topped a field of 22 Brittanies to win the U.S. Open Brittany Championship that commenced March 20 at the Lake Murray grounds, Ardmore, Okla. In winning this Championship, Star became the second dog in the history of the breed to do so on two occasions; the other dog being Hall of Famer Way Kan Jill, which took the crown in 1963 and 1965.
The companion Victoire Nationale Brittany Derby Classic ran an entry of nineteen and was won by Kinwashkly Red Patches, Brittany male, co-owned by William E. Sturm, Jr., of Emporia, Kan., and Leslie Andreas, Saskatchewan, Canada, and handled by Gene Spires. During the running of the sixteenth renewal of this great Championship, we were reminded that people —most notably the pros— make for good field trials. Without them, there would be no Championship.
Professional dog handlers are amazing pieces of machinery. Each of them is the president, sales manager, trainer, handler and stable boy of his own organization. They are master horse, people and dog psychologists, work like Trojan slaves and wouldn’t trade jobs with another human being on earth. At this year's running of the Championship, our pros were: Marc Appleton, a hard working young man who has a lot of fire in his engine room and wins his share of the marbles; Lewey McCrea, an ex bronc peeler, a sort of modem day Matt Dillon turned dog pro, who rides a horse with a wild abandon that takes your breath away. Louie knows how to look at a dog. Rick Smith, a brilliant young handler who looks and acts like a pro— and is one. His track record belies his tender years; Gene Spires, a quiet man who sits well on a horse and knows how to move a dog around the course. Rosco Staton, an amiable dog handler, who learned at a fairly young age that a lot of people die mad and has managed well to stay out of that trap. A board of directors meeting was held at our gathering and it was decided that the world could use a lot more people like Rosco— provided, of course, they were properly scattered around.
No mention of dog pros would be adequate without respect to a gentleman’s gentleman and a pro’s pro, Frank Roach, one of the stauncher supporters of this Championship. Frank has a smile as big as the moon and a heart the size of Texas. The pro was ailing a bit this year and could not be with us.
And there were other good folks among us.
When the good Lord handed out guts, generosity and energy, He most surely laid a ton of each on John Doak, the able president of the Championship Association. John has been a bit puny himself, but he was out there among us, running a Championship the way one should be run. How very splendid it was to walk out of the watering hole at morningtime, into an Oklahoma-near-dawning, and find John out airing his dogs and to share with him an unspoken thanksgiving for the promise of a new day and the mighty thrill for the opportunity to see the great dogs go one more time.
What the Lord had left over, He gave to John’s stablemate, our beloved and gracious Mama Annie. And as is right, Mama gave some of hers to Doc Young, a fair and reasonable man who is the best bird dog secretary in the land.
The travelling trophy was awarded to Barbara Wade, who was down for the races from Ann Arbor, Mich., to watch her great dog, Jack Flash O’Dolly, go. She rode with hope and courage and came mighty close.
There was a pretty, big-eyed school teacher out of Amarillo, the bride of a wandering word merchant, who was looking at her first Championship and was goggleeyed about the goodness of it.
The judges, Joe J. Knittel from Amarillo, Tex., and Harold D. Davis of Arlington, Tex., were perfectly suited to each other and to the occasion. They knew what they were looking for, looked and saw it and put the right dogs in the right places. A remarkably good job.
We came to ride a Championship and we rode it. Fast and far and high into the wind we rode. We were aware that field trialers are lucky— luckier than that, really. We are, you see, for these few days together, brothers to the sky and the wind, the land and the waters, to the dogs and horses and birds— and each of us, most surely, to the other. A good thing it is. A very splendid thing.
Championship Running
We sent the first brace away at precisely 7:30 into a stiff breeze which increased in volume as the day went on, to cruise at 30 mph and gusting to 40 or so. Temperature, at breakaway, was 60“ and climbed into the 80s. We ran the grounds backwards from other years and this gives, I think, a better opportunity for the dogs to go all out and be seen.
A long, bitter winter, a delayed spring; dry conditions, extreme heat and the everlasting winds put an extreme premium on finding birds and handling them, but in no way detracted from the quality of the dogs.
Le Car’s Advocate— Goldtone’s Doc.— Advocate went out in good style, handled himself and the course nicely, had an unproductive at 28, refused to back at 44 and was taken up. Doc went high, wide and handsome for 42 minutes, always to the right places and handled kindly. He made a long, blistering cast to the tip of a point on the lake and stopped, with point being called at 44. After Appleton made a mighty effort to fly birds and could not, Doc was sent to relocate. As he worked running birds for a hundred yards down the shoreline, a bird went out of the cattails directly in front of him. The dog stopped, was fired over and sent on. At 51, as a bird lifted thirty yards off to the right, Doc stopped to acknowledge the flight, started to move on, was stopped by command and was fired over again. The dog finished the hour in great, reaching fashion and was eventually awarded Top Dog of the qualifying series.
Brandy’s Lone Star— Pin Oak Dixie.— Tex had a very fair opening and point was called at 23. Smith moved heaven and earth trying to produce a bird, but could not. At 37 both dogs were found standing shoulder-to-shoulder and again birds could not be flown. Tex was taken up. Dixie had a blistering opening thirty minutes, shortened somewhat, wallowed a bit for the last thirty and finished soft.
Jacolet’s Wandering Star— Dr. Scott’s Tough Enough.— This was the class brace of the series. Star went away with the wind and took the country apart— gay and reaching, happy and eager and in every sense a bird clog. She was always in the right place, required almost no handling and finished long to the front and going places. Except for an unproductive at 38, she had no bird contact. Once in a blue moon, or so, you see a dog race like Toughie put down. The dog has absolutely blazing speed, reaches to the outermost rim and beyond and goes bird hunting. Toughie gave us every ounce he had and finished strong, away out yonder about two miles beyond the Canadian border. Alas! No birds.
Jake’s Celtic Briell— Tucker of York.— Neither dog really cranked up and were taken up at 30 and 38, respectively.
Mr. Lucifer— Ranbo’s Royal Rebecca.— This was a good pair. Luce got away long and wide and stayed out there. We watched him blister the grounds for 32 minutes, being a bit rough on the turns, but staying in the ball park. Staton called point, could not fly the covey and sent the clog to relocate. Luce moved out swiftly for 35 yards, banged into a point that made the ground shake and pointed the feathers off the covey. When Roscoe took him wide, the birds, which were directly in front of the dog, raised into the howling wind and hung there. With one bird on each ear and another on his nose, Luce sucked back in self defense and sat down upon his bottom. Becky is a bird dog. She gave us a strong and splendid hour, with perhaps the best application we had seen— always where the birds belonged and always going places. She had a smashing point at 34, but it proved unproductive.
Jack Flash O’Dolly— Venus Olympia.— On many a day and at many a place, Jack could have taken it all with this race— possibly the most courageous race of the Championship. The dog did not skirt the cover, but took it head on and went boring through like an express train. He put it out for the entire hour and finished like the stout fellow he is. Should a seventh dog have been called hack, certainly Jack would have been it. Venus is a nice dog, ran the draws like lightning and also went without a bird.
Simpatico— Jacolet’s Pride.— Simpatico had a very fair race for 48, point was called, no birds were produced and the dog was asked to relocate. There followed a twelve-minute walking quail hunt, involving three additional points, but still, nary a bird was flown. Pride walked and talked for thirty— just great— and then moused and tinkered about for a bit, finally got going again and finished well.
La Pitt Dave O’Duke— Benjamin Robb.— Both dogs made a fairly sturdy effort, but never got anything big going. They were taken up at respective times of 50 and 31.
Tex’s Airman— Misty Boy Harvey.— This brace produced a small town rodeo when the writer’s horse jumped five feet high and twenty feet long to clear a two-foot ditch, threw the rider ten feet into the air, jumped back under him and gave him a mighty whack in the bottom, with the saddle. The writer rode high in his stirrups thereafter. Matter of fact, this is being typed standing up. Airman is a going concern, takes the country apart in mighty hunks and has all the speed, range and desire in the world. Problem seemed to be: we seldom saw the dog and handler at the same time. One of them was always lost. Harvey just has to be a good bird dog, but he acted kind of sad today— like he would rather hang out to the side, amble along in peace and do his own thing, rather than get into the middle of the fracas with his handler and mix it up a bit. The dog had an unproductive at 58.
Senator T J— Bingo.— Senator ran by far the longest race of the series, always to the front and bird hunting. The dog ran a smart race, but unfortunately did not find a bird. He easily made the callback. Bingo had a sort of rag-tag race and not much happened.
At the end of this brace we sloshed off our 'hosses’ for coffee and rest and the world came apart. The horses suddenly decided they had had all the success they could stand and started a mighty stampede for the barn, three miles away. We got an extra hour’s rest. We lay in the sun and every time someone would ask, “Is that them coming back?”, someone else would moan, "Gads, I hope not!” And we went back to sleep.
Red River Lady— Sureshot’s Pistol Flash.— Babe, the defending champion, had the only perfect find of the series. At nineteen the little dog was sailing down the edge of a creek, did a 180 and smashed hard and tight into a gorgeous point. Appleton took her far and wide for sixty seconds and then produced a covey 25 yards directly in front of the dog. Her manners were perfect. It is unfortunate that the Babe did not have the race to match the find. For some reason, which is unusual for this dog, she never got organized— zigged and zagged, ran some loops out in the meadows, ran up and back on a bunch of roads and was overly dependent on her handler. Pistol, a nice dog, was another case where the dog and the handler never quite got their heads together.
Championship Finals
Goldtone’s Doc— Senator T J.— Doc ran the same course which he had run in the qualifying series and did, up to a point, an equally good job— wide and to the right places. Point was called at 32 and immediately waved off as the dog moved on. The dog went out on a deer at 35 and Appleton did a masterful job of blasting in between the dog and the beast and breaking up the donnybrook. Doc made a mighty and thrilling cast long to the end of the point on the lake where birds were found yesterday. The dog fell into a hole in the ground, or something, and disappeared from the face of the earth. Odd. We had the dog completely surrounded, but still he gave us the slip. Doc was gone for 19-1/2 minutes and finally showed at 59, with no opportunity to show his finishing kick. Senator was cute. As the dog stood there anticipating the break, he reared away back. When the whistle went “toot-toot”, Senator pulled the trigger and put a glory-hallelujah cast for a good, honest half mile up a treeline, crossed over the meadow and took a fast train right on out of the country. The dog showed at four and eight and then bored into the wind and around the bend and returned never more.
Jacolet’s Wandering Star— Dr. Scott’s Tough Enough.— We loosed this brace in 80° temperature and a high, hot wind. Star did not open with the dash and fire with which she generally wings it, but as time went along she became stronger and wider. She put down a tremendous closing 25 minutes, swam across a neck of the lake for fifty yards and was found standing on point, buried deep in the cattails, just before pickup. Smith piled into the jungle and suffered mightily attempting to fly a bird, but could not. Toughie gave us what I do believe to be the finest thirty minutes of dog racing this writer has ever seen. The dog went into the water at thirty, drank a ton and came out looking like an overstuffed beer barrel. He was considerably ill on the hills and lost a great deal of his thunder.
Mr. Lucifer— Ranbo’s Royal Rebecca.— This was the walk-away brace and since the finals had not produced bird work, we were holding our breath. Luce was not as fast and wide as yesterday, but he hung out there and hunted his country with authority and dispatch. He was involved at 52 in a couple of incidents which may have indicated a reluctance to back. Luce went birdless. Becky ran as near perfect a dog race as you could ask for. She goes and goes and goes, always on course and eating up the countryside. She pointed at 52 in the edge of a jungle and McCrea, who does a highly professional job of handling this dog, could not put a bird into the air. Becky went on to relocate and forty yards down the line she pointed again. This time Lewey flew an armadillo. Take up was upon us before the dog got untangled and going again.
Since the issues of run, desire, range, speed, intelligence, style, application and endurance had been well settled on the courses and only the question of whether or not the dogs could point and handle a bird remained to be seen, the judges called on Jacolet’s Wandering Star and Ranbo’s Royal Rebecca to work planted birds. Star went first. She nailed the bird in nothing flat and stood there like a pretty little rock for nine minutes while Smith chased a running bird around the thicket. Finally Rick walked in front of Star and flew the bird she had been pointing all the while. Manners were flawless. Becky pointed deep in the thicket and McCrea could not produce a bird. He finally sent the dog on and she got the job done in a hurry. The bird was flown, the shot was fired and all was well.
The necessity to use planted birds to determine the champion detracted in no possible way from the caliber of this field trial. The judges awarded the Championship to Star, by the thinnest of possible margins, and Becky was a runner-up. A good and correct decision.
Ardmore, Okla., March 20
Judges: Harold D. Davis and Joe J. Knittel
UNITED STATES OPEN BRITTANY CHAMPIONSHIP
[One-Hour Qualifying Heats; One-Hour Finals]—22 Brittany Spaniels
Winner—JACOLET’S WANDERING STAR. 982257, female, by Pacolet Cheyenne Sam—Jocko’s Fordot. P. D. Hinch. owner; Rick Smith handler.
Runner-Up—RANBO’S ROYAL REBECCA, unreg.. female, by Country Joe A'Winnin—Janet's Love. D. R. Tackett, owner; Lewey McCrea, handler.
VICTOIRE NATIONALE DERBY CLASSIC
Riviera’s Dixie’s Tough Rebel— Kris’s Texas Grubstake.— We loosed the first brace at 1:00 p. m. on Tuesday into a high, hard wind and extreme heat. They ran almost identical races— wide enough, fast enough, went bird hunting and were most ably handled. No birds.
Kinwashkly Red Patches— Tough Enough Too.— When Patches went down, the sun stopped in its orbit, the stars came down out of heaven and the “birds,” as it is said in the trade, “ceased their singing.” Here, my Masters, is a bird dog. This pup, which will not be two years old until June, can, I assure you, compete with any Derby of any breed on any grounds. The dog has a beautiful fluid gait, blazing speed, desire to burn, brains aplenty and unbelievable endurance. Patch requires a lot of real estate. The dog was especially pretty on the long points leading into the lake, as he took each of them to the end, bounced in there looking for a bird and then, without the need of handling, came ahelling out, roaring around the bend, and took the next objective to the outermost limits of judgment. We thought the dog might be in trouble when he took a deer out at thirty and chased it for a long country mile. The pup came right on around, back on the course and gave us a stronger closing thirty than the first. He left us limp in the saddle. Toughie looks like a carbon copy of his good daddy, and was by no means left out of this. The pup hustled and looked good for 45, was out judgment until 59 and finished strong and to the front— away out there where big things happen.
Reed’s Bonine Max— Lil’s Scip of Brandy.— Both did an honest day’s work, but never got anything going that was competitive.
Wayne's Texas Express— Doyle’s J Patrick.— Tex went to the right places, but never showed the speed and drive he needed. Pat had a beautiful find fifty yards from breakaway, stood nicely until his handler arrived, moved down and stopped as the birds flew on the far side of the trees. Unfortunately, his speed, range and drive were not sufficient.
Fat Boy— Renegade.— Both went out ablazing, but were lost at nine and three and never returned to the course.
Tommy’s Ruff Spot—La Pitt Buck.—These snappy young fellows sprayed the prairie with bullets. They literally ran all over three states, in six directions at the same time and blew the trees down. They settled down a bit at five and went to work. Spot burned it up for thirty, slowed a bit, but finished good enough. Buck had bird contact at 35, worked a single into the trees and stopped nicely as the bird went from directly in front of him. Except for being considerably tough on the turns, this pup might have had a shot at it. He well earned his runner-up spot.
Twap’s Shinin’ Shannon— Pecos Sam— Shannon gave us 25 minutes of beautiful, well-applied dog racing, then took a deer out and was picked up four hours later. Sam looked like a dog to be reckoned with, but was lost at ten.
Charlie Britt— Uno’s Destry.— Charlie, a very nice dog, for some reason never got his afterburner turned on in this one. The dog was taken up at 28. Destry had the same problem and was up at 23.
Radar’s Buckshot de Ranbo, a bye.— This dog has perhaps the best puppy and Derby winning record in the country, involving a reported 22 placements, of which sixteen are firsts. This, however, was not his day. He never turned it on and was taken up at thirteen.
Hop'O’Dee Ann— H’n J’s Pride and Glory.— Each gave, from the standpoint of speed, desire and hustle, a perfectly good account of themselves. Probably for reason of the mating call, neither of them ever got a sustained and long-range effort going. They were taken up at 41.
VICTOIRE NATIONALE DERBY CLASSIC
[One-Hour Heats]—19 Brittany Spaniels
Winner— KINWASHKLY RED PATCHES. 85936 male, by Ban Dee—Flint’s Kinwashkly Queen. W. E. Sturm. Jr. & Leslie Andreas, owners; Gene Spires, handler.
Runner-Up—LaPITT BUCK, 93843, male, by Bolling Heights Buck—Bolling Heights Birdie. La Reine M. Pittman, owner; Rosco Staton, handler.