Service Tails Read online

  Service Tails

  More Abingdon Press Books by Ace Collins

  Nonfiction

  Man’s Best Hero

  Music for Your Heart

  Fiction

  The Fruitcake Murders

  Hollywood Lost

  The Color of Justice

  The Cutting Edge

  Darkness Before Dawn

  The Christmas Star

  service tails

  more stories of man’s best hero

  Copyright © 2016 by Ace Collins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission can be addressed to Permissions, The United Methodist Publishing House, 2222 Rosa L. Parks Blvd, P.O. Box 280988, Nashville, TN 37228-0988, or e-mailed to [email protected].

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Collins, Ace, author.

  Title: Service tails : more stories of man’s best hero / Ace Collins.

  Description: First [edition]. | Nashville,Tennessee : Abingdon Press, 2016.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016009314 | ISBN 9781501820076 (pbk.)

  Subjects: LCSH: Service dogs—United States—Anecdotes. | Animal

  heroes—United States—Anecdotes.

  Classification: LCC HV1569.6 .C65 2016 | DDC 362.4/048—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016009314

  Scripture quotation from The Authorized (King James) Version. Rights in the Authorized Version in the United Kingdom are vested in the Crown. Reproduced by permission of the Crown’s patentee, Cambridge University Press.

  To Michael Hingson

  Contents

  “Introduction”

  “Beginnings”

  “Finding Love”

  “Team Potential”

  “Memories”

  “Employing Experience”

  “Down but Not Out”

  “A Ticket to Ride”

  “Maintaining Balance”

  “Hope”

  “Ignoring Barriers”

  “Unconditional”

  “Service Forgotten”

  Introduction

  This is not a book that spotlights heroic dogs wildly tossing themselves into lifesaving situations. Yes, some of the dogs in this book have saved lives, but their purpose is service. In just doing their jobs, each of these dogs stretches the way we see both canine and human potential. As they lead the way to independence for people whose disabilities were supposed to limit their lives, these dogs open our eyes and our minds. Their training was intense, their loyalty unquestioned, and each step of the way, they constantly adapt to better serve those they lead. They are more than heroes; they are servants.

  From a Swiss German shepherd who came to the United States in the late 1920s to initiate a movement that would touch and impact millions of lives and change the very perception of a nation’s view on disabilities to a collie that began life as a mobility animal and grew into a woman’s guide through Alzheimer’s disease, from a big Lab who led a blind woman through college and guided her into marriage, to a golden retriever mix that opened the door to life for a child locked in a world of solitude and misunderstanding, these chapters introduce us to leaders whose entire lives are wrapped in the banner of service. The stories are remarkable snapshots of the value of teamwork and imagination as well as devotion to duty and unconditional love and acceptance.

  Except for the initial chapter that presents the story of the canine and young man who started the service dog movement, all of the stories in this book are contemporary. Those served range from a middle school student to a woman in her nineties. While each person’s need is unique, all are tied together by a canine’s ability to free them of the limits placed on their lives, not just by disabilities or circumstance, but by a society’s misconceptions. These are, therefore, people who live in our world and serve as role models and inspiration. Their stories will open our eyes and minds to the unrealized rewards of teamwork.

  I could not have written this book without the help and support of Katie Malatino of Canine Companions for Independence, Karen Woon of Guide Dogs for the Blind, and Leslie Rappaport of Kings Valley Collies. I highly recommend their organizations. The links to the sites are listed below. I also need to thank Michael Hingson and Debbie Abbenante.

  In closing I am reminded of the familiar African proverb “It takes a village.” After conducting the interviews and doing the research for this book, I would like to suggest a new proverb, “It takes a dog.” Once you read these unique “tails,” you will likely agree that a dog can literally take us anywhere.

  www.cci.org

  www.guidedogs.com

  www.kingsvalleycollies.com/mobility

  Beginnings

  Coming together is a beginning; keeping together is a progress; working together is success.

  Henry Ford

  Sometimes leading also means following. Sometimes being first means you actually arrive second.

  A movement began with an athletic young man from Tennessee.

  Morris Frank was fortunate to be born into a wealthy family in Nashville. In fact, if his family had not had money, his life and the lives of hundreds of thousands of others with disabilities might have been far different and much less productive. In this case, money was anything but the root of all evil. Rather, it was the launching pad for a revolution.

  In 1914, when he was just six, Morris lost the sight in his right eye when he was struck by a tree limb while horseback riding. Coincidentally, his mother had lost her sight in the same fashion. During a boxing match a decade later, the teen lost vision in his left eye. Sud-denly, just like his mom, he was completely blind.

  In the early 1920s, there were few options for disabled people. Most were not educated and had to depend upon their families for everything. Morris was the exception. Because of his family’s wealth, the boy had opportunities that even those without visual impairments rarely received. His father hired readers so his son could attend an outstanding prep academy. With the help of paid human guides, Morris continued to go to exclusive summer camps in Maine and freely travel in both Nashville and up and down the East Coast. Even the doors to Vanderbilt University swung open for the young man when he graduated from high school.

  Outgoing, charming, and driven, Morris thrived. By twenty he was a top-notch student and a successful insurance salesman. He was a regular at the local social scene and had a large group of friends who gladly offered rides to Nashville’s premier events. It seemed the only things the well-dressed young man lacked were dependable employees. Those hired to read his lessons and review his insurance policies, as well as drive him to school and appointments, often didn’t show up on time. Sometimes they didn’t show up at all. Thus, in the one area where he really needed independence, he had none.

  When his human guides didn’t show up, Morris was forced to use a cane. The modern world’s urban challenges were at times overwhelming. His outings with the only tool available for the blind took much longer than those using a human guide. Thus, he was often late for appointments, meetings, and school. The screech of tires became a common sound as he crossed a street unaware that a car or truck was in his path. Once, a wrong turn and a misstep caused him to tumble almost twenty feet into a freshly dug trench. Not able to climb out, he had to wait hours until a passerby discovered his predicament and helped him. In time he began to understand why most blind people stayed home.

  It was a frustrated Morris who, in the late fall of 1927, sat in the family’s living roo
m listening to his father read from a recent issue of The Saturday Evening Post. John Frank’s evening readings had been a tradition in the family since his wife, Jessie, had gone blind. For the past four years, Morris had also come to depend upon his father and these nightly gatherings to keep abreast of world events.

  On that cool night, John read a story written by Dorothy Harrison Eustis called “The Seeing Eye.” In the article, Eustis wrote about German shepherd dogs being trained in Europe to lead soldiers blinded in The Great War (now known as World War I). Morris intently listened, growing more and more excited as he pictured the way these dogs had brought men independence and value. The concept of a dog being the eyes for a blind man was almost inconceivable. How could the dog know when to stop and go? How could he determine the proper routes to take and how to avoid danger? This had to be a piece of fiction. There was no way that in one little corner of the world the blind were no longer dependent on others, that they were working and traveling on their own.

  When his father finished reading, Morris’s mind was whirling. Though he still wondered if this was nothing more than a fairy tale, a part of the young man wanted to believe an answer for his problem had been found.

  As a boy, Morris had been his blind mother’s guide. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he led her through crowded stores, up steep steps, and across busy streets. His one good eye had spotted dangers and pitfalls and helped her avoid them. As he remembered those days, the boy smiled. Maybe a dog could do those same tasks. Perhaps it wasn’t so hard to believe after all.

  Morris rose from his chair and walked toward his father. He had to know more, and the only way to do that was to dictate a letter to his father to be sent to the author in care of The Saturday Evening Post. In that short introductory correspondence, Morris informed the article’s writer of his condition and asked her to verify that the seemingly miraculous story she had woven was completely accurate. If it was really true, he wanted to meet with her. In closing Morris assured Eustis he was willing to travel to the ends of the earth to get a dog that could lead him. The letter was mailed on November 5. Later in life Morris Frank would say that was the moment everything began to change.

  For thirty agonizing days the young man waited. Each day he would check the mail; and as time passed, his hopes grew dimmer. He even came to believe the story Eustis had written was likely an exaggeration of the actual facts. The dogs couldn’t really do what she had written, and that was the reason she had not answered his letter. By the thirtieth day, Morris had all but given up. He did not even bother going to the post office that early December morning. Thus, he didn’t discover that Dorothy Eustis had replied until his father came home from work. In his hands John held an envelope from Fortunate Fields Farms in Switzerland.

  First of all Eustis assured Morris that everything she had written was true. In fact, she had only had a chance to cover the basics of the skill sets the dogs had mastered. She then told him of a training center she owned, Fortunate Fields, which educated canines for work with the Red Cross and for various military groups. She then offered an invitation he had hoped for but not expected. If he would be willing to travel from Tennessee to Switzerland, she would bring in a specialized trainer and choose a dog just for Morris. By committing to several weeks of one-on-one work, she believed he would also be able to live out the story she had written for The Saturday Evening Post. After dangling the tempting offer, she asked the young man to think about it for a few weeks. She then assured Morris she would call when she visited the United States over the Christmas holidays.

  Morris was literally dancing around the family living room. Initially the family was excited, too. Here was a chance for their son to gain a bit more independence. But, after hours of planning everything from what to feed the dog to where it would sleep, reality set in. His mother, Jessie, when considering the young man’s solo trip across the Atlantic, began to worry. She had always had great faith in her son, but this was a much different challenge than walking across the Vanderbilt campus. How could he possibly find his way from Nashville to Switzerland? A trip like that would require him to use numerous trains, make a long ocean voyage, spend time in Paris, and then travel to the Alps. He wouldn’t know the language or customs. And he would have to deal with several different types of currency. It simply seemed overwhelming. She tried to explain her feelings to Morris, but she quickly discovered the young man was far too fixated on his chance to obtain a dog to listen to reason.

  Within days, a long line of friends joined Jessie in trying to convince Morris not to chase this wild dream. Their argument was that a dog was simply not worth the time, expense, and risks associated with the trip. In the long run, the canine would ultimately offer the young man little more than companionship, and any local pup could do that. In visit after visit, they continued to pound home that he was setting himself up for a huge disappointment. Some even thought the young man was falling for a con game.

  Morris would later admit he had many of the same concerns. Dogs were great at learning tricks, but leading a blind man would require reasoning skills that most believed had been reserved only for humans. So he, too, wondered how a dog could guide a man through crowded city streets or help him find a specific location. After all, things that sounded too good to be true were usually scams. Was he falling into that trap?

  A wavering Morris turned to an expert for advice. Dr. Edward E. Allen, the director of the Perkins Institute for the Blind, was recognized as one of the top experts in the field of vision impairment. If this were just a gimmick, the director would know. Dr. Allen was aware of the German work using dogs and was cautiously optimistic about it. Yet while the man appreciated the concept of a canine replacing a cane, he also wondered about the project’s ceiling. Thus, he was not ready to give his full endorsement.

  Yet Dr. Allen had known Morris for several years. He understood his drive and intelligence. If there was one American who might be able to make this marriage of dog and man work, it was this young man from Tennessee. With that in mind, Dr. Allen encouraged Morris to give it a shot. At the very least it would be an incredible adventure. With this affirmation in his pocket, there was no turning back. When Eustis made her holiday call, the young man enthusiastically told her, “Mrs. Eustis, to get my independence back, I’d go to hell.”

  Early in the New Year, Morris began the long, daunting, solitary trip. On the trains that carried him from Nashville to New York, negative viewpoints of the man’s condition were easy to spot. People whispered, wondering why a blind man was allowed to travel alone. Others voiced their appreciation to the various train conductors for “taking care of him.” In New York, when he boarded the ship, the sense of isolation and gentle ridicule mushroomed. The crew suggested Morris just remain in his cabin so he wouldn’t hurt himself or get in the way of the other passengers. They offered to bring him anything he needed if he would just stay out of sight. The independent young man would have none of that. Yet, when he was out on the deck, complete strangers tried to help him walk, find a chair, and order a meal. Even when sharing a postdinner stroll around the ship, Morris could sense their awkwardness. It was as if they viewed him as a toddler. Few took the time to note his wit, intelligence, or charm. He had many of the same interests that they did, but they had no idea what to say to him.

  In Paris it was little different. It was almost as if they resented a disabled person having the gall to venture out in public. No one was interested in directing him to a café or guiding him to the city’s historic landmarks. As he waited for connections to take him to Switzerland, he was all but locked in a hotel room. Therefore the City of Light offered little but darkness for the visiting American.

  When he finally stepped off the train in Vevey and felt the cool, crisp Swiss mountain air, everything changed. With Vevey located on a mountainside, Morris could sense the expanse on all sides. The scent of pine trees was everywhere. Unlike New York or Paris, the air was so clean and fresh, it served to reignite his op
timism.

  Dorothy Eustis greeted him at the station as if he were a long-lost son. As she catered to his needs, she also respected his independence. She directed his movement with her voice rather than trying to lead him with her arm. For the first time in weeks, someone was actually treating him as if he were a fully functioning adult.

  Eustis’s chalet was large and had a very open feel. The room he would call home for the next few weeks was decorated with antique furniture. His bed was soft, and the sheets finer than any he had ever known. Yet none of this mattered to Morris. His only interest was in meeting his dog and finding out if the canine really could change his life.

  After the visitor was settled, Eustis introduced him to Jack Humphrey. Humphrey was an American-born trainer who had been imported to Europe to work for Eustis’s Fortunate Fields Training Center. When he learned of Morris’s upcoming visit, he took the time to study the blind and familiarize himself with their specific needs. He then returned to the center and adapted his training methods to dogs that might be able to serve as guides for those who could not see.

  During his first few weeks of creating what was literally a new curriculum, Humphrey had even gone so far as to blindfold himself. As he tried to pick his way along roads and city streets with a cane, he became more fully aware of the barriers facing Morris and others who were likewise disabled. That role-playing experience allowed him to better understand the skills a guide dog would need to allow the blind to function independently of human help. As this was something brand new, trial and error built the model needed to educate both the canine and the human. By the time Morris arrived in Switzerland, Humphrey believed he had a training pattern in hand as well as a dog ready for the task.

  Initially Humphrey worked just with Morris. He explained what would be expected of the man and how the marriage of dog and man would work. What was emphasized again and again was the dog would lead the man and the man would have to follow. If the roles were reversed, the experiment would fail.