NEWSHOUNDS!
DOGS HAVE LONG GRACED THE TRIBUNE’S PAGES
When Scottish novelist Walter Scott lost his beloved bull terrier Camp, he hinted at the depth of his heartbreak in his explanation for turning down a dinner invitation that day: “The death of a dear old friend.”
The literary world, in fact, is filled with examples of heartfelt reverence for the everfaithful dog, the Tribune passionately argued in 1890: “The poets, with a few exceptions, have always loved him, from Homer down. They have sung his virtues in all languages and caused his eulogies to be engraven on monuments and on the hearts of men.”
“Man’s best friend” inspires like no other, a glance at the Tribune’s archives reveals.
The dog “loves and venerates us as if we had made him out of nothing. He is above all our creature, full of gratitude, and more devoted than the apple of our eye,” Belgian poet Maurice Maeterlinck wrote in a guest column in 1904.
A pair of dueling voices in a 1913 commentary very seriously took on the question of whether the dog deserves top billing as humankind’s animal companion. Col. James H. Lewis, in giving the “pro” side, described dogs as having the biblical patience of Job:
“Dogs are known to die rather than desert, to starve rather than abandon, and to accept brutal treatment from master and owners and never rebel. And finally to watch over a child, to guard the home, and to follow the master through every fate. Surely, in the language of the scripture. ‘There is no greater love than this that sticketh closer than a brother.’”
On the more playful side, the Tribune column “A Line O’ Type or Two” dedicated space in March 1955 to the most common dog names of the day, as recorded by the Chicago clerk’s office. At the top of the list were Skippy or Skipper, Duke, Blackie and Duchess. Owners of big dogs were partial to Major, Rex and Queenie, as well as Duke. Mutts were christened Spotty, Pal, Penny and Ginger. The story mentioned “a distressing number of Stinkers.”
How about Whiskers? That’s what firefighters at a North Side firehouse called a shaggyfaced stray when she became their newest mascot, the Tribune reported in 1977. The “little lady” quickly charmed the crew. “She has her favorites, but she likes all the men and even won over some of the grumpy ones,” a firefighter said.
Whiskers’ selection for the honorary post was a departure from Fire Department tradition: Dalmatians historically have served in that role because back in the day they kept the horses calm when firefighting equipment was transported on wagons, the Tribune wrote. The spotted dogs also apparently have shown a talent for … pole balancing and rope jumping?
The Tribune discovered a troupe of highly trained Dalmatians with a love of the limelight when it reported in 1951 on Willy Necker’s dog act, which gained fame through appearances on TV and at dog shows and county fairs: “Necker … says that his five Dals are true canine ‘hams.’ All of them love to perform their various tricks and hear the applause of spectators.”
Dogs have also graced the pages of the Tribune because of their famous masters. Rudolph Valentino, a sex symbol of the early 20th-century silver screen, made a splash in Chicago when he visited the city in 1926 and brought along his 200-pound Irish wolfhound
Centaur Pendragon.
And they’ve appeared in print posing with their owners from all walks of life, from socialites to blue-collar Chicagoans. Or while reading the so-called bulldog (early) Sunday edition of the Tribune after being found wandering the streets by an animal welfare group. (One guess as to which breed of dog.)
Perhaps one of the most loving tributes to dogs in the Tribune came from columnist Bob Becker, who bid farewell to his hunting dog Mike in 1937 after his trusty companion’s death:
“We are going to miss his eager face at the window tonight when we come home. We are going to miss his scurrying around to find something (a magazine, paper, or glove) so that he can make us a present, which often is a Labrador’s gesture to tell you that he likes you. We will miss his muted, throaty bark after dinner at night when he begs for attention. …
“We hope we are not mistaken about that happy hunting ground for dogs. … A dog like Mike deserves a life in such an idyllic place after the pleasure and devotion he has given us these last few years.”