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In the news Loyalty of honorary Dobe saves 2 year old's life [ link ] What you always knew is now official [ link ] Dobermans make friends easily, even with sea-creatures! [ link ]
Dobes throughout history
Cavè
Dobermanus
Will work for food
Defending America
Breed Descriptions
Dobe Portraits
Competition, in and out of the ring
No. 63 Time
Magazine, Monday, Feb. 27, 1939 Most dog shows look, sound and smell alike.
The Westminster Kennel Club's dog show, held annually in Manhattan's Madison Square
Garden, is no exception. But it is the oldest exhibition of its kind in the U.
S., and it is attended each year by the cream of U. S. registered dogs and certified
socialites. Although this year's show, the 63rd, had far fewer entries than Cruft's
of Great Britain (3,415 to 8,839), its 96 breeds outnumbered Cruft's 90.
Peggy
Adamson and Dictator
Best Dog Time Magazine, Monday, Feb. 25, 1952 The judge had a ticklish
task. Which one of the six dogs would he choose? English setter, wire-haired dachshund,
Welsh terrier, Brussels griffon, standard poodle or Doberman pinscher? Each dog
had been trained to the tail tip, each had survived a two-day ordeal of poking
and prodding by judges. Each was the best of its breed and the best of its group.
Now, from all the 2,451 dogs originally entered last week in the 76th annual Westminster
Kennel Club Show at Madison Square Garden, the judge had to choose one as the
best of all.
Best of Breed Time Magazine, Monday, Feb. 09, 1953 Some 80 years ago,
a German dogcatcher [and tax collector] named Louis Dobermann determined to breed
a new strain of dog that would combine the agility of a terrier, the strength
of a shepherd and the grace of a greyhound. Assisted by two friends, a gravedigger
and a bell ringer, Dobermann interbred pinschers, shepherds, rottweilers and black
and tan terriers, to get an intelligent, powerful new breed that won distinction
as a war dog in both World Wars and as a "seeing eye" for the blind.
A Dog's Life Time Magazine, Monday, Feb. 23, 1953 Rancho
Dobe's Storm is a sleek, husky (92 Ibs.) Doberman pinscher who leads a pampered
dog's life in suburban Cos Cob, Conn. (pop. 3,100). His nonworking day's routine
includes an egg at breakfast, a pound of canned beef at dinner, a romp on the
acres of his master, Adman Len Carey, a vice president of Batten, Barton, Durstine
& Osborn, and a proprietary interest in sleeping on the bed of the Careys'
16-year-old son, Jeff. Every once in a while, for reasons that Storm may not fully
understand, he is required to parade up & down in front of a crowd with a
lot of other dogs at a dog show. Storm loves every minute of it.
Pointer vs. Airedale Time Magazine, Monday, Feb. 23, 1925 Dogs
are expert in judging human quality. With a single sniff at a man's trouser-leg,
they determine his social standing; one leap against his chest is enough to inform
them of his character. It is more difficult for a man to judge of the excellences
of a dog. He requires paraphernalia-ropes, lights, leashes, a specially constructed
pen, an exhaustive training; often his fellows gather in great packs to observe
his judgments, which they confirm with shrill murmurs or deride with rasping growls.
Last week such a display took place in Manhattan at the annual dogshow of the
Westminister Kennel Club.
This
film from a 1936 Schutzhund contest in Germany has made its way onto YouTube.
Regarding legislation hostile to pets and pet owners
Not everyone seems to recognize the priceless gift that purebred dogs represent. Each breed was carefully and patiently bred for specific purposes to help with important needs. True, some needs no longer exist as part of our daily lives, and some breeds have been altered in different ways due to recent breeding practices, but each breed has a rich and engaging tradition. Some people who don't seem to love dogs as much as we do, or at least not in the same way, seem to have worked their way into positions of influence in America's organizations which were founded to strengthen and preserve the vital bond between man and dog. Here's a sample of their actions: This Means War. If you want your children to be able to own
purebred dogs, you can start by informing yourselves and others of the value and
importance of dogs in our lives. If your local government is considering legislation that you consider invasive or overreaching, here's a worthy organization that may be of interest to you: National Animal Interest Alliance In 2008 our city considered but listened to a few informed voices and rejected legislation which could have been a step in the wrong direction. Sometimes it doesn't take many rational voices to make a difference. Please make time to get involved.
While
we disagree with many methods, goals and basic assumptions of organizations like
PETA and United States Humane Society (USHS), animal cruelty obviously exists
and must be opposed without interfering with the vital human/animal bond. For
strong stomachs only.
(* Despite the similarity in names, USHS is not connected to your local Humane Society - and most informed dog lovers do not send them donations. Cynics say that USHS lives off of donations from well-meaning people who don't know USHS's true agenda.)
War DogsAbout the War Dog Memorial
In this collection
of WWII newsreels by Ed Herlihy,
[excerpted from] Where Is the Fleet? Time magazine - Monday, Jan. 12, 1942 It was drudgery, guarding a stretch of the California coastline. Said Private Gerald Reynolds: "[On New Year's Eve] I went on watch at 6 that evening, with a complete outfit-tin hat, gas mask, canteen, rifle and bayonet and nothing but water in the canteen either. Me and another guy were out with a Doberman dog patrolling a section of Terminal Island shoreline. Everything was completely blacked out and it was raining to beat the band. We had raincoats on but even then after six hours of it we got pretty wet. You could hear harbor waters swishing on one side of us and just barely make out a high wire fence on the other. Just at midnight I looked at my watch and my buddy and we said 'Happy New Year' to each other and then to the dog"
Governance
"If
you want a friend in Washington, get a dog." These
days, a Doberman might be a good choice.
A very young JFK with a Doberman.
"Actors, entertainers and hams" |
Rita Hayworth with Doberman, 1941. Now here's a photo that draws you in. How big is her back yard? Do her neighbors love dogs too? What sort of training has the dog had? Does he get to play with other dogs much? What kind of dog food does he like? Does he fetch? Play frisbee? What is his favorite toy? Is his food dish elevated to help avoid bloat? What sort of treats really make his little tail wag? |
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Space Dobes?
Not exactly certain what point Blue Oyster
Cult was trying to make with this album cover except perhaps that a fella needs
reliable protection and quality companionship even when he's a snappily dressed
space king/priest from the Regullon-Twidellmacher star cluster. And that goes
double for when you're conquering a planet as primitive and violent as Earth.
Or maybe the band simply wanted to say that sometimes it seems like you have to
travel light years to get a good gravity-defying ear-crop.
Either way, pity
about the weak chests and odd tail-crops of the space-dobes.
From Time Magazine, Monday, Oct. 20, 1958
In the scrubby, arid eastern edge of San Fernando Valley, the Los Angeles Animal Regulation Department set out one day in 1954 to pick up a stray dog. The dog was a fine-looking animal, a sleek, year-old abandoned Doberman pinscher that had been tipping over garbage cans, stealing food, mating with purebred bitches, howling to the whines of fire sirens. He was also fast and smart. Time after time, beginning in the summer of 1954, Inspector Roy L. McGowen drove out to the trailer camp area where the dog foraged. Usually, McGowen could pick up a stray inside of two or three weeks. But not Maverick, the Doberman. Says McGowen: "Hell, whenever we thought we'd outthought him, he'd go a different way-over a fence or under, or just plain dang through. He's the most intelligent animal I've ever encountered." For four exasperating years the chase continued. The capture of the outlaw dog became an obsession.
The Attack.
After each failure of McGowen and his crew, the neighborhood became more outraged.
Complaints piled into department headquarters; the pressure increased. The dogcatchers
tried every trick they knew. They loaded ground beef with dope tablets; Maverick
found it, ate the meat, left the pellets on the ground. They mapped out the streets
he used, staked themselves out in concealment with lassos, but Maverick, 80 Ibs.
of muscle and speed, trotted new avenues. They even set out a trap baited with
a boxer bitch in heat, but Maverick and the bitch tore the trap apart and loped
happily off together to the hills.
In the four years of hunting, Dogcatcher
McGowen had come to think of Maverick as something special-a symbol of sorts.
"He kind of got under my skin," he said. Last month, when McGowen got
orders to shoot the dog, he refused: "Get somebody else." Then McGowen
planned his biggest push. One morning two police cars and three of McGowen's cars
cruised the tightly netted area. Neighbors took up positions near by. One of McGowen's
men, armed with an air rifle loaded with a nicotine-tipped needle, climbed to
the rooftop near the spot where Maverick liked to laze. Soon Maverick appeared
and stretched out in the shade. For two hours the man with the gun maneuvered
to get a bead. Then he shot.
The Hero.
Maverick lay stunned
for five minutes, but as the hunters approached, he struggled to his feet. Blindly,
he staggered to a metal-plated gate, clawed at it, stuck his nose into a crack,
scrambled, scratched, pushed. Then, in utter, bewildered defeat, he slumped to
the ground, and was carted off.
By this time Maverick had become a hero.
Newspapers cheered him. A thousand dog lovers wrote and phoned the animal shelter
begging for him. So great was the demand that the shelter agreed to auction him
off, and last week at the auction Mrs. Doris Crown, wife of a Van Nuys aircraft-parts
manufacturer, bought him for $134.88, drove him away in her red convertible Cadillac.
Inspector McGowen never claimed a victory. Like most people in the area,
he figured that the victory rightly belonged to Maverick.
Sadly,
sometimes Dobes do wind up on the wrong side:
Time Magazine, Monday, Dec. 05, 1949
[What's
that? Art Tatum had Dobermans?!]
The house lights dimmed and the crowd hushed as a burly Negro was led to the piano. He seated himself, cocked his head to one side and played three smashing chords. Then he was off in a cascade of flashing arpeggios which resolved themselves into the haunting strains of Jerome Kern's Yesterdays.
Art Tatum performing Yesterdays
After a two-year
absence, Art Tatum was back in Manhattan.
Almost totally blind, Tatum is generally
acknowledged as the most brilliant technical virtuoso of the jazz piano. A musician's
musician, he has been praised by such men as Paul Whiteman ("Tatum is a genius")
and the late Thomas ("Fats") Waller ("That Tatum ... is just too
good"). He delights in swift changes in tempo and key, becomes so involved
in complex contrapuntal rhythms that his listeners are certain he will never find
his way out. But he always does.
Old Standards.
Toledo-born
Art Tatum played his first professional engagement at 16 as a dance-band pianist.
Two years later he left the band to go on his own as a soloist. "The other
boys used to razz me," he says. "They said I had no left hand, so I
made up my mind to show 'em." Tatum is still sensitive about criticism of
his bass, but can claim, with the enthusiastic approval of his fans, that he does
more with his left hand than most pianists do with both.
Although one of his
biggest-selling records was made with a band (Wee Baby Blues with Blues Singer
Joe Turner), Tatum's fame has come from his solo work. "A band hampers me.
I hafta watch out for them." His solo records of standard tunes (Tea for
Two, Sweet Lorraine), his jazz renditions of popular classics (Massenet's Elegy,
Dvorak's Humoresque), and his showcase novelties (Get Happy, 9:20 Special) are
part of most jazz collections.
New Ideas.
Last week, after
his 10 o'clock show at Cafe Society, 40-year-old Pianist Tatum sat at a corner
table, his customary bottle of beer before him, and admitted he was tired of the
grind of nightclub shows, sometimes thinks of retiring to his home in California
with his wife and two Doberman pinschers[!!!]. But as the intermission
pianist swung into a chorus of Basin Street, he turned his head attentively. "He's
got some good ideas," he said. "You can't create everything. You hafta
listen to the other fella." His strong fingers flexed in an imaginary run.
"I'm always tryin' new ideas. No matter how far you go with a tune, there's
always something else you can do."
The fans at the table exchanged pleased
glances. As long as Art Tatum talked of new things to do, no one had to worry
about his going into retirement . . .
Just
listen to Art Tatum's joyful velocity and precision!
I prefer to close my
eyes and imagine that I'm listening to
a soundtrack for a movie about 2 Dobermans
playing in my backyard!
Well, yes, this
is partly just an excuse to listen to Art Tatum,
and here he is again with
"Smoke gets in your eyes" (1949):
Bob Dylan's "Retrospective", "1995 European Tour"
and
"Seeking Salvation" albums, released by Doberman Records
provide Doberman lovers with hours of listening pleasure.
Below is his "Gates of Eden", from "1995 European Tour".
Miscellaneous
Howstuffworks.com has some interesting general reading on dogs.
Emails will be of no avail
The following omissions are not omissions:
Sgt. Bilko's Private Doberman comics
"The Doberman Gang" - more of a B minus, actually
"They Only Kill Their Masters"
Indiana, the crossroads of America
Clarence
J. Pfaffenberger, whose many years of fruitful research greatly developed our
understanding of the four "Critical Periods" of canine development,
was born a mere 30 minute drive from the Five Star Dobermans facility.
Although his family moved to Colorado when he was 18 months old, we still consider him
a native son!
Dr. John Paul Scott first outlined the
critical periods of canine development (Genetics and the Social Behavior of the
Dog, pp 384-385, 1965). He was led to the subject by the behavior of a lamb that
he acquired to help with weed control while renting a small farm in Indiana.
The lamb was an orphan and needed to be bottle-fed, so Dr. Scott kept it in the
house for its first ten days. After this other sheep would have nothing to do
with it. For the rest of its life it never grazed with or interacted with the
herd, and it was uncharacteristically fearless around people.
It was "a
most unsheep-like sheep".
As a psychologist, Dr. Scott was of course
familiar with Freud. He began to dwell on the possible existence of early formative
periods in animals. (Dr. Scott's theories have held up better than Dr. Freud's.)
Here is an interview with "Nixon's
Doberman pinscher" (Bob Dole), on Letterman.
Letterman hails
from Indiana, as most people know, but in this clip Senator Dole mentions that
his Great-Grandfather and Great-Great-Grandfather are buried in Rising Sun, Indiana.
Rising Sun is known by us as having one of the friendliest 4H Horse and Pony clubs
around!
Farewell from Indiana.
Join us if you would, in parting, in a rousing round of "Back Home in Indiana",
as only Jim Nabors can perform it.
First verse
I have always been
a wand'rer
Over land and sea
Yet a moonbeam on the water
Casts
a spell o'er me
A vision fair I see
Again I seem to be
Chorus
Back home again in Indiana,
And it seems that I can see
The gleaming
candlelight, still shining bright,
Through the sycamores for me.
The
new-mown hay sends all its fragrance
From the fields I used to roam.
When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash,
Then I long for my Indiana
home.
Second verse
Fancy paints on mem'ry's canvas
Scenes that we hold dear
We recall them in days after
Clearly they
appear
And often times I see
A scene that's dear to me
Member of Kennel Club of Columbus, Indiana (AKC)
Member of Doberman Pinscher Club of Indiana, America's very first DPCA chapter!