50 Years Ago
Late Autumn/Early Winter 1952
by Maurice Telleen
published in The Draft Horse Journal, Winter 2001 - 2002

Politically it was a time for “old men,” at least in Europe. In Germany, the West German Parliament responded to an emotional speech made by their Chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, by unanimously voting reparations to the Jewish people. Adenauer said, in part, that his nation had the obligation to make moral and material amends for the unspeakable crimes committed in the name of the German people. Politicians (and others) are generally wary of ever having to say, “I’m sorry,” but Adenauer was bigger than that. He was one of the giants of the postwar period. I’m sure Hitler’s old admirers cringed to hear him say it. That is the nature of attack dogs–they aren’t into sorry. How does one make amends for something that monstrous? It is impossible, so sometimes you just do what you can–and Adenauer did it. This was, of course, subject to Germany’s ability to pay.

In Great Britain, the public returned venerable old Winston Churchill, then 77 (Adenauer was even older), to head their government. After leading Britain through six years of war, he had been turned out of office shortly after the war ended. I suspect it was a bittersweet victory. Churchill once said something to the effect that he was not elected to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire. Nonetheless, that to a considerable extent, is what was happening. The British currency was in a deplorable condition so, with a very narrow majority, he had his work cut out for him. Again.

Churchill was a great phrase maker. As is often the case, he did not admire his predecessor. That was Clement Atlee, leader of the British Labor Party. He once described Atlee as “a sheep in sheep’s clothing.” I think it was fairly on the mark.

Television, now so ubiquitous that you can hardly escape it, was still a new toy for most people. On October 31, Princess Elizabeth and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, along with their kids and a puppy, visited Canada and the United States. They made a TV appearance on American television. The puppy stole the show.

This has next to nothing to do with 50 years ago–maybe more like 40 years ago, but it is a dog story and while I’m not as old as Churchill was 50 years ago, I am old enough that I mustn’t leave a good dog story untold.

Last summer, Jeannine and I had the pleasure of an overnight visit from Eddie and Roberta Freitag from Saskatchewan. Eddie told me this story–it is true. So is the rest of this column, of course.

Back when Eddie was one of the young “wonder kids” of the draft horse world, late ‘50s or early ‘60s maybe, he was at the Royal Winter Fair with his family’s horses or maybe even working for Harold Clark at Meadowbrook–doesn’t matter. What matters is the constipated Fox Hound.

As any of you who have attended Toronto’s Royal know, they go in for pomp and ceremony. It has often been described as “a show of grandeur.” I know that is true, because I have so described it.

Eddie was watching the opening ceremonies with another Eddie. Eddie Arnold, venerable (meaning older than you) Clydesdale breeder from Shoal Lake, Manitoba. This being 40 years ago, give or take, Eddie Arnold was less venerable then, but substantially older than Eddie Freitag. So the adjective stands.

That year they had one of those “tally ho, the fox” outfits, in red coats, I assume, do a little presentation. All resplendent in their hunt outfits and mounted on their horses, with the pack of hounds yelping around and making a fuss, they entered the ring. When they had done their thing and were exiting the arena, one little dog stayed at the far end of the arena. He was preoccupied. So the rest of them left and he remained, intent on the task at hand.

Old Eddie said to young Eddie, “Eddie, take a good look at this. You will never see the likes of it again. Thousands of people, some in formal evening dress, sitting in seats they have paid for, watching a little dog take a dump.”

For baseball nuts, and just for the record, such as it is, the New York Yankees beat their cross-town rivals, the Giants, in the World Series. And for football fans, (those of more violent nature), Illinois trounced Stanford 40-7 in the Rose Bowl to welcome in the new year.

In Korea, the negotiators at Panmunjom, finally, after four months of haggling, reached agreement on a truce line roughly at the 38th parallel. That should have taken about ten days, instead of four months. Still to be resolved were the questions of the prisoner exchange and enforcement of an armistice. So, while no major actions were underway on either side, patrols still went out, and men were killed, while the talking droned on and on.

Also in November of that year, the courtship of General Eisenhower got underway. President Truman offered to sponsor him as his candidate for the Democratic nomination the next year. Eisenhower, whose politics were a mystery at the time, was coy. He could afford to be. He was in the catbird seat.

J.D. Salinger’s famous book, “Catcher in the Rye,” came out and the screwed-up teenager, Holden Caulfield, became required reading on campuses all over the country. I guess. That is what people say. I never got around to reading it, so it wasn’t required everywhere or perhaps I have just forgotten it. As for being a screwed-up teenager, isn’t that a universal experience? How does one escape being one at some point?

The Belgian fiscal year ended on October 31, 1951. They reported a total of 229 horses recorded and 361 transferred during the previous twelve months. One big, or two medium-sized auctions will generate that much business these days–in one day. In fiscal 2000, a total of 4,152 horses were registered and 5,778 transferred.

The total salaries, including withholding tax and Social Security in 1951 was listed as $3,412–gross payroll in 2000 was $123,946. Secretary’s travel in 1951 amounted to $167.98–in 2000, it was $4,352. Director’s expense in 1951 was $84.94 (no per diem or mileage, I’m sure) and in 2000 it was $7,921.65. And on and on. The point has been made. Forget Bill Gates and Microsoft, the Belgian business was the place to be.

If you think that 1951 was the bottom, you are premature. It was going to get a little worse before it started getting better. Amazingly enough, 25 new members signed on to this apparent lost cause during fiscal 1951.

The big year end finale, the International Livestock Show in Chicago, was a sad spectacle. Three Belgian exhibitors: C.O. House, Arcadia, Indiana; Warren Bros., Bancroft, Michigan; and Penn State University brought a total of twelve horses before the judge. They were International quality horses but without competition.

Jeanne Lyn Farceur, 1st prize 2 yr. old and junior champion at the 1951 Royal Winter Fair for Doug Palmer, Schomberg, Ontario. This filly was bred by Warren Bros., Bancroft, Michigan.

Lois Lyn Farceur, 1st prize yearling and junior champion mare at the 1951 International in Chicago for Warren Bros., Bancroft, Michigan.

Director, 1st prize yearling and junior and reserve grand champion stallion at the 1951 Royal Winter Fair for Meadow Brook Farms, Rochester, Michigan. This colt was a full brother to both Conquest and Linda, two of the breed’s all time greats. In better times he would have, no doubt, been a high dollar stallion prospect, and probably left his mark on the breed.

The Percheron show at Chicago was, by contrast, huge. Five exhibitors led 28 horses before the judge. They were George Dix, Delaware, Ohio; Lynnwood Farm, Carmel, Indiana; Bob Jones, Farmer City, Illinois; Sherm Read & Daughter (Marilyn Robinson), Richland, Michigan; and Penn State University. I suspect Marilyn is the only 1951 Chicago exhibitor that is still with us. As with the Belgians, the Percherons shown were International quality, there just weren’t many of them.

As for the Clydes, I’m sure there were a few on hand–maybe even ten. That would swell the total number of line horses at Chicago to 50! Those numbers are so pathetic I’m not going to list winners. In defense of the horsemen, because some of the state fairs were still reasonably good, it was expensive to show at Chicago, not very rewarding premium-wise, and it was at a cold and disagreeable time of year. Tradition just doesn’t feed the bulldog forever.

I don’t find any annual report figures in the Percheron Notes but it is a safe assumption that they were as dismal, or more so, than the Belgian figures.

So what replaced the “court of final appeal”–as the International once called itself? Toronto with its Royal Winter Fair, that is what. They still had strong shows and were more generous with the prize money. For instance, the Belgian numbers at the Royal went from 119 head in 1950 to 136 in 1951 and the Percheron numbers from 96 to 135 in the same two years. I imagine the Clydes were on a par, being more numerous in Canada than down here.

The only one of the three, however, that had a strong American presence in 1951 was the Belgian. Three Americans went north and captured 14 of the 16 line classes, and most of the championships. They were Meadow Brook Farms, Rochester, Michigan; C.O. House, Arcadia, Indiana, and Water Cress Farms (Poraths) from Northville, Michigan. Meadow Brook dominated the show with seven class winners plus best of breed on the champion mare, Linda. They also had junior and reserve grand stallion on a yearling named Director, and reserve senior stallion on Progress Farceur. I think Gordon Fickett from Minnesota wound up with Progress Farceur. Water Cress had grand champion stallion on Cadet Farceur and House had reserve junior on a colt named Kent Farceur. He was probably named after a grandson, Kent House, who is still breeding Belgians. The junior champion mare was shown by Doug Palmer, Schomberg, Ontario, but was bred by Warren Bros., Bancroft, Michigan. Most of those horses have been pictured, so I’ll run photos of only the junior champions.

With Chicago petering out, more and more of the better horses from the U.S. would become patrons of Toronto.

So that is how it was 50 years ago. If draft horses were the big thing in your life, it was a discouraging time. I think that is the same year that the last token team left our home place–either ‘50 or ‘51. Can’t remember everything and who wants to?

But years are like vineyards or orchards, no two are alike and some produce fine wine or cider and others vinegar. Anybody old enough to remember 1951 has had both cider and vinegar years, unless they are relentlessly cheerful and forgiving or relentlessly glum.

If you were a grunt in the Korean War which, truce or no truce, it was still a nasty business. For a good many, it was the last year of their young lives. A vinegar year for sure. American casualties totaled some 37,000 in that so-called forgotten war.

Other young folks were getting married, having babies, buying farms, winning plaques for “salesman of the year,” or maybe graduating from college with a good set of wheels, coming to terms with a new job or career and discovering that you were pretty darn good at it after all. There was nothing wrong and a lot of things right for millions, about 1951.

As for those old breeders who stuck with the drafters, they were considered either terminally stubborn or hopeless romantics, but harmless. Don’t feel too sorry for them. They were doing what they wanted to do and were comfortable with it. I believe those guys simply decided to develop a taste for vinegar–so they smacked their lips, bred the mares again and waited for next year, which would be more vinegar. That is one way to turn the tables on your detractors–accept their insults as compliments, do your thing and tell them where to go. But smile as you give them directions because someday you might sell them a horse or two.

I have an old friend (old enough to recall 1951 and then some) who several years later received a lot of attention from the IRS. It drug on and the guy investigating his affairs became sort of a pal. By the time it was settled, my old friend had sold the IRS agent a team of horses. Now that takes patience and the long view. I reckon the audit was vinegar, but the sale was mighty fine wine. Even if it wasn’t a high dollar deal.