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Felix MorleyA was the first, and of the six of them, had the most to do with Washington, for the most time.
Felix was the next oldest of the three brothers a€” a€?the Second Garrideb,a€? his brother Chris sometimes called him a€” and his birthday was January 6th. In 1940 he answered a call from Haverford College, and served as its president during World War II. Elmer DavisA also had close ties to Christopher Morley, from the time they were Rhodes Scholars at Oxford together in 1911.
All this time, Davis had been a close friend of Chris Morleya€™s, and part of his Three Hours for Lunch Club in the early 1930s. When Davis took the CBS job, though, his broadcast hour meant that he arrived late at BSI annual dinners in January; and after 1942a€™s he couldna€™t at all, for the duration of the war. For the rest of the war, and the rest of his life, he lived in a big comfortable apartment at 1661 Crescent Place, off 16th Street.
After it was over, Davis stayed in Washington to be a news commentator for the new ABC network. With considerable difficulty over the rest of 1947, Smith managed to keep Morley from throwing the baby out with the bathwater, though the 1948 annual dinner was cancelled in favor of something smaller dubbed a a€?committee-in-cameraa€? meeting at the Racquet Club on Park Avenue. From Philadelphia to early Red Circle meetings cameA James Montgomery, one of the eraa€™s best loved Irregulars.
James Montgomery had only one flaw: a big heart, but a defective one, and it broke many other Irregularsa€™ hearts when he died all too soon at the age of fifty-seven in 1955.
Smith had long wanted a BSI scion society in Washington, where he often came on business at the State Department and elsewhere, and belonged to the Army & Navy Club on Farragut Square. And Felix, a foreign policy expert himself, had a veryA A  distinguished career in political affairs and journalism.
But when Hitler came to power in Germany, and Europe started sliding toward war again, Davisa€™s mood grew somber.
A  When the Sherlock Holmes Society made its first pilgrimage to Switzerland, in about 1968, Gore-Booth played Sherlock Holmes in a re-creation of the struggle at the Reichenbach Falls with Professor Moriarty. He first attended a BSI annual dinner the following January, 1947, the last one held at New Yorka€™s Murray Hill Hotel before it was demolished to make way for a modern office building regretted deeply by the BSI to this day.
But of all his repertoire, still on the BSIa€™s Top Ten today is a€?Aunt Clara.a€? This song, and you all know it, was Montgomerya€™s lasting triumph. It was an amazing level of activity for someone who, until retiring in 1954, had a very demanding day-job a€” a vice president of General Motorsa€™ Overseas Operations in New York.
The Baker Street Irregulars were founded by Christopher Morley, of course a€” eldest of three brothers, graduates of Haverford College in Pennsylvania or Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, both where their father taught mathematics, then all three Rhodes Scholars at Oxford (a record to this day), and finally all Baker Street Irregulars. He became a€?The Second Staina€? in the BSI, after a talk he gave about Sherlock Holmes and foreign policy complications at the BSI annual dinner in 1940, one later published in Edgar W. But after the war he returned to Washington, and lived on Wetherill Place off Ward Circle while working as a news commentator for NBC radio. Davis came from a small town in Indiana, but after his education, and some teaching of Latin in his hometown where his mother was a high school teacher, he went to New York to work for theA Times, and spent ten years there as a reporter and then an editorial writer.
Starting in 1936, he wrote a widely-noticed series of articles about the emerging crisis forA Harpera€™s Magazine, assessing Hitlera€™s remilitarization of the Rhineland, the Munich Crisis, Hitlera€™s demands upon Poland, and the outbreak of war in September 1939. When Pearl Harbor brought America into the war, Davis felt, and said so publicly, that the Government here in Washington was managing war news badly; and to his dismay, FDR not only agreed, but in July 1942 added an Office of War Information to the bureaucracy, and appointed Elmer Davis its director.
OWI was a thankless job involving constant wrangling with the Army, the Navy, and the Censorship Office, frequent rivalry with the Office of Strategic Services over their disparate propaganda roles in the war, ceaseless bickering from Congress, and little support or even decisions one way or the other from FDR.
He was First Secretary at the British Embassy in the years immediately after World War II a€” and a suspect, for a time, as the Soviet spy at the British Embassy, codenamed Homer in intercepted communications, who turned out to be Donald Maclean, part of the Kim Philby spy-ring that fled to Moscow in 1951 after their guilt was revealed. Soon he was attending the BSIa€™s dinners in New York, then The Red Circlea€™s meetings in Washington. There was a great deal of editorial comment about this in the British press, not to mention cartoons of the sort that Whitehall mandarins dread. There was a noisy throng of seventy men at that dinner, many of them ones Christopher Morley did not know or recognize in the hurly-burly of that evening, bothering him greatly.
Robertson could have gone down in history as the man who almost got The Baker Street Irregulars killed off, and been cast out. When he first visited our scion society he already possessed, at his specific request, the Titular Investiture of a€?The Red Circle,a€? BSI.
It began life as a ribald song written in the 1930s by a non-Sherlockian couple here in Washington, the worse for drink at the time.
He was a co-founder of The Sons of the Copper Beeches in 1948, and in 1950 became one of the small number of men in the BSI invited to join the separate but more than equal society The Five Orange Pips, where for hisA nom de pipA a€” the BSIa€™s investiture system is based upon the Pipsa€™ tradition a€” he took the full, long, impressive string of titles of The King of Bohemia, though we Pips usually let it go at that, when we remember and honor him.
He was very important there, and known far beyond GM as a foreign trade authority and management expert.
While The Five Orange Pips wasna€™t a BSI scion, he became its Sixth Pip even before he was a Baker Street Irregular. But while major figures like Elmer Davis and Felix Morley had not found the time, Karen Kruse, Svend Petersen, A Dorothy Bissonette, and Patricia Parkman did, and here we are fifty years later. Smith continued to run the BSI after retirement from his new Morristown, New Jersey, home on a private street he got officially named Baker Street, until his greatly mourned death in September 1960.
After countless hours of research on and about this breed, here is my version of how this wonderful breed came to be.In the early 1800a€™s Scotsman Bruce McKinsey moved his family moved from the cold damp climates of Northern Scotland to the Grampian Hills of Central Scotland.
He quit the newspaper to write freelance, both fiction and non-fiction magazine articles and books, doing so with fair success from 1925 on.
That was preceded by the Nazi-Soviet Pact in August which made it possible for Hitler to go to war, and with CBSa€™s Radioa€™s great newsman H.
But Davis fought tirelessly for the right of the American people to know as much as possible about how the war was going. When he returned to London in the early 1950s, he became a founding member there of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London.
Robertson was so effusive that night in his well-watered enthusiasm for Baker Street Irregularity, that he made himself a a€?Hokinsoniana€? in Morleya€™s eyes, by asking him and others there for their autographs.
But though attendance was greatly reduced for this a€?committee-in-cameraa€? meeting, and some never made their way back to the BSIa€™s dinners, Edgar Smith kept Robertson, and Robertson was there that night in January a€™48. He was a concert singer with a wonderful tenor voice a€” the BSIa€™s second and greatest songster, a favorite performer at the BSI annual dinners every January.


While not published by them, it came to be privately but widely circulated as years passed, until one day Montgomery heard it at the Orpheus Club in Philadelphia where The Sons of the Copper Beeches met, and onto it Montgomery tacked a legendary aunt of his he claimed to be the Irene Adler of the Canon. Barring, possibly but not definitely, Vincent Starrett, Smith was as beloved a figure the BSI has ever had, with a friendly face, welcoming manner, and heartwarming smile. His first major publication came in 1939,A Appointment in Baker Street, a comprehensive guide to all the men and women in the Sherlock Holmes stories. In 1940 he was a co-founder of the BSIa€™s first scion society, The Speckled Band of Boston, and he soon came to call himself a Scion Society Circuit Rider.
He was a€?The Hound of the Baskervillesa€™ in the BSI, an investiture never to be reassigned.
Some light-hearted stories and novels of his were turned into movies, like his 1926 tale of speakeasy lifeA Friends of Mr.
He went on in a dual career to be, on its secular side, Permanent Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the Foreign and Commonwealth Officea€™s senior career official, and in our realm, the chairman of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London. He could do that because he had eyebrows far more impressive than anybody elsea€™s, great bushy ones more arresting than his criticsa€™.
Robertson listened to the startled but delighted Smith explain what the BSI was all about, including its then small number of scion societies, and went home and founded The Six Napoleons of Baltimore, in which he was active for many years thereafter as Napoleon No.
The upshot was a sharply adverse reaction by Morley to what in his eyes the club hea€™d created was becoming. He made it from Baltimore despite the mammoth snowstorm which kept Morley at home on Long Island that night a€”a good thing, if the BSI was to continue as something more than a small circle of his own cronies, as the original BSI had been. An early item in his repertoire at the dinners was mimicking Irene Adler singing on an especially crackly early gramophone recording. Once he performed it at the BSI annual dinner in New York, the song and fable became an instant part of Irregular lore to this day. In 1936, his boyhood love of Sherlock Holmes was revived by reading Vincent Starretta€™sA Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.
In philosophy he was a free-trader and New Deal Democrat, who made both Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman honorary members of the BSI.
After spending time together working the sheep in the fields and watching how McKinseya€™s dogs worked the livestock, Alexander eventually acquired a female Scottish Colley from Bruce and named her Flora. Elmer Davis was a Democrat, albeit a cynical one who once described Franklin Roosevelt as the kind of man who thought the shortest line between two points was a corkscrew. He declared that there would never be another BSI dinner, and was determined to make that stick. An entire history of it was eventually written and published by the late, great Irregular W. He wrote to Starrett, who had him write to Christopher Morley; and soon Smith was writing to everyone in the BSI.
More time was spent on his hobby at work than was usual for senior executives, but he made no secret of it, even turning a series of secretaries into helpmates for BSI business; and no one at General Motors complained because Smith was also a tireless and efficient champion of GM interests.
Felix Morley was a traditional Republican, for most of the 1930s and a€™40s a Robert Taft conservative with a pronounced isolationist streak. It became a permanent appointment, Kaltenborn getting a new assignment and Davis becoming CBSa€™s principal nightly news commentator for the next two years. And throughout the 1950s he issued volume after red-covered volume of Irregular writings, current and historic. But quite regularly he attended meetings of The Dancing Men of Providence, The Sons of the Copper Beeches in Philadelphia, The Six Napoleons of Baltimore a€” and The Red Circle of Washington.
In the 1950s and a€™60s, though, after becoming president of the American Enterprise Institute, and moving it from New York to Washington, he leaned more in a libertarian direction. After retiring, he lived the rest of his life on Gibson Island near Annapolis, writing works of political philosophy and his autobiographyA For the Record.
There isna€™t any information as to the demise of Alexander, but he was well into his 80's at this time. This pup would come to be known as "Jet", a black pup with a faint line of white up his face, a white chest and socks. Both theseA lines worked from the head and didn't have the a€?loose eyeda€? working style of the traditional Collies.If you look at the picture of the Basque Sheepherder, taken at the turn of the century, you can see the resemblance of our modern day McNab in the Black and white dog in the back on the right side.
Among Scottish flocks he is the pride of Scottish owners, and is valued, both in the Old World and the New, as one of the best aids money can procure.
Here even, in far California, there is one ranch, lying high on the breezy mountains and low in the grassy dells, that for years has relied upon the help given by imported collies and their offspring, and it is of the work these bright dogs do that this article is written.For the history of the collie one must look elsewhere than in a brief magazine sketch.
Many wise dogs have journeyed far by land and sea to race over the rugged hills after the nimble sheep, which in these mountain wilds give fleet defiance to the would-be-gatherer. No one but a real Scotch shepherd can train these dogs to the perfection they attain among Scottish flocks under constant supervision. Descended from long generations of workers the puppies take actively to business, and practice amusing tactics of herding on the farm poultry while still too young to be initiated into the graver cares of life; and at first sight of a band of sheep will usually make some move that denotes the shepherd strain. Literally is it true of the collie, Ye cannot serve two masters ; his allegiance must be given to but one, or the valuable animal becomes worthless for the work that nature and training have given him to do. The breeze is sweet with bloom, and the sunlight falls, a flood of golden glory, over the lavish green of April meadow, as we take the upward trail, a woodland path that rises steeply under the shadow of the Peak, giving but glimpses of the valley home below, and winding through still shadows in the absolute silence of Natures own domains. Higher we go, and onward, past an old stone cabin, a picturesque bit of ruin in the lap of spring.
As we come out from the woods with the Peak still above us, send a swift glance northward, where Sanhedrim and the northern mountains still are capped in glittering snow, rising sharply from green valleys to the sunny sky, their sparkling peaks the only hint of winter in all this summerland. Off he dashes up the hill, makes a wide circle past a dozen ewes, and as they bolt up hill heads them, turns, and deftly drives them down.
Their lambs lie asleep in the warm sun or frolic together on the hillside, bright bits of movement white against the green. A motion of the hand directs the alert dogs, and they join the two bands and send them steadily along the trail. Two ewes and a lamb go running to the side.Here, Pete!The dog dashes quickly across a little hill, the bright drops sparkling on his black coat as he passes the sheep and turns them. Circling in front again, the dog overtakes, turns them, follows, and turns again, and patiently works them along till his troublesome charges are safely among their fellows. If sent to hurry the little flock, he dashes at the hindmost, barking his orders.Here the master whistles Fred to the right.


Nothing is visible to him, but off scurries the obedient dog, barking frantically, circles, and stops.
Off he dashes, perhaps fifty feet or so ahead, and dropping to the ground with nose between his paws, he waits till the flock is close upon him ; then he springs up and trots ahead again, and once more quietly waits their coming.Fred! The master walks away, and Fred, understanding perfectly that he must keep the flock, swiftly circles round them and brings them to a halt. Here, alone, he holds them, keeping them closely together while Peter and the master gather the other side of the hill, and return two hours later to find the sheep quietly grazing and Fred lying as quietly watching them.Two ewes wander a little too far. Scarcely rising to his feet, the dog slips quietly through the grass beside them, and they turn and slowly rejoin the band, cropping as they go. Fred trots quietly around his charges, sees that all are safe, then drops down again, watching them ceaselessly with shining eyes, and not a ewe or lamb is missing when the returning master adds his flock.Steadily we climb, through the golden afternoon.
Occasionally shy deer peer through the brush, the warm air is sweet with the breath of bloom, and a distant eagle screams as he sweeps in stately circles over the Peak.
The flocks number in the hundreds as we finally reach the summit, where we are met by the shepherd and Tweed, with another band.
In go the dogs, and send the sheep briskly down the trail, while Peter, circling far behind of his own accord, often brings in a stray ewe that has slyly dropped out.Yonder is a place where the whole band broke away years ago, and never have forgotten it, but neither have the dogs.
With a fierce challenge the collies vigorously meet the flying band, and force them back to the trail more roughly than we have seen them do yet, in punishment, perhaps, for their presumption and past sins.
She has bolted away several times, and given Peter much trouble to bring her in ; but his Scotch is up, as she dashes away again. He springs in before her, and with a dexterous hoist of his body sends her tumbling end over end, which is his own cure for these troublesome bolters, and was never known to fail.
As if shot from a cannon, the ewe bangs against him, and over goes Tweed, howling rolling over and over, down the steep hillside, all four feet kicking at once, in angry protest as they come uppermost ; and his chap-fallen expression, as he struggles to his feet and slinks away, shows that Tweed is both a sadder and a wiser dog. Though all are trained alike in a general way, two collies differ as widely in characteristic methods of work as two men,each possessing a distinct individuality of his own.Ah!
After much hard running the flock is finally under control, but a bunch of lambs has become separated in the confusion, and after circling helplessly, stampedes in wild disorder.
Peter tries his wise best to work the foolish little things back, vainly attempting to head them off.but they jump over him, halfa-dozen in succession, ears and tails flapping wildly as they clear his broad back. While the master separates the sheep, let us sit on this sunny hillside and watch the collies as they circle round the running lambs. They never bark at them as they would at old sheep, but merely follow and slowly check them by degrees. The little things are both obstinate and foolish, and at first pay no attention to the quiet collies that trot patiently round and round, quietly gather them together, and at last stop their wilr1 run. Slowly, and with marvelous patience they are turned, jumping over each other, then over the dogs, and it seems a hopeless task even to attempt to take them the half-mile to the corral, but in a couple of hours time Fred and Peter come slowly up to the gate with them, not a lamb hurt or missing, and their first acquaintance made with these gentle protectors and friends. Peter is a favorite, bright even beyond the ordinary collie, his first appearance in the field showing a canine reason. Then he suddenly spied a huge rock; straight for it he went, and springing into sight upon its top, he stood a moment, one paw uplifted, ears up and nose a-quiver, a pretty picture, gave two quick glances, and was down and with the sheep again, and quietly drove them straight across the field to the hidden gate. Often, till he learned the hills, did he leave the sheep,, and on some high point literally take his bearings, to return to his charge and take them down the better way, justifying his masters assertion that surely the line between reason and instinct is closely drawn in the Scotch collie.
He was a ready match for a certain obstinate old ram, that always fought the dogs and delayed their work ; till at last when sent for the flock Peter went first for this old enemy, and there, nose to nose, both heads bobbing excitedly, he would angrily bark and growl, till the conquered ram at last would make a sudden bolt, and the victorious Peter calmly gather in the flock.
A most conscientious dog, his work was done faithfully and well till years disabled him; but Fred, more alert to praise, did best were strangers present, when he abounded in bright ways and brilliant work, done with a comically conscious air of superior excellence. The young man pondered a little, then to the country saddler he went and ordered made from his description little leather shoes.
He took to them kindly, like the wise dog he was, wore them gratefully, and after a long days run through flying seed, off would come the shoes, leaving his feet sound and well. Meekly he would let his shoes be donned, regarding his master quizzically the while, and wear them complacently enough in view, but let him be sent for sheep a little out of sight, a little delay would be noticed, then out from behind some bushy clump or sheltering rock Fred would gayly emerge, with many gambols to divert the eye. Clyde closely resembles Fred, whose days are past; and till the present puppy, tiny Tweed, grows to working age, Clyde is the mainstay of the gathering.
Help fulfills his name on other portions of the large range ; but either are true types of the working collie, willing and faithful helpers till years disable them. Either one is sent for sheep entirely out of sight in a large field, and patiently hunts till he finds them, then brings them in alone ; and Gyps mother, Bessie, brings in the entire flock from her owners small range just as readily as from the field.
They brought with them their stock dogs, the Fox Shepard, the origin not known, but have survived in Scotland for centuries. McNab returned to the Grampian Hills in Scotland for the sole purpose of getting some of the dogs he was used to working.
He brought Peter back with him, leaving Fred to have his training completed, and he was later sent to America. These two dogs were bred to select Shepard females of the Spanish origin, which were brought to this country by the Basque sheepherders, and that cross was called the McNab Shepherds because Mr. He named this pup Jet he was black with a faint white line up his face, a white chest and a small amount of white on his feet.
Some of these dogs will have a wider strip up the face (Bentley Stripe) and a ring around the neck, there are also instances of pups with brown on their face and legs but will still be mostly black. Alexander McNab and his family raised sheep in Scotland, but longed for a warmer climate and enticed by the news of the West, set out across the Atlantic to America.
McNab was not satisfied with the type of working dogs he found locally, and in 1885 he returned to Scotland for the sole purpose of importing the type of dog(s) he had been accustomed to working with.
It was said that these two male dogs were bred to female dogs of Spanish origin, which were brought to this country by the Basque sheep herders. I have searched (and continue to search) to find out the type of dog the Basque may have brought with them to California, and my findings were contradicting.



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