Sport: Poodle Triumphant

Tristram von der Fingern Lachen sneered down his wrinkled nose at the pampered dandies around him. His aristocratic toilet—a bath in olive oil and a dousing with detergent—had been completed at home. Great Danes are just too big to do all of their primping in public. But smaller breeds in the Westminster Kennel Club show at Manhattan’s Madison Square Garden last week turned the rank and echoing Garden cellar into a tonsorial riot. Handlers and owners worked over their charges like anxious mothers. Long hair was stripped and scissored, combed and brushed; paws were groomed. “Of course it’s illegal,” muttered one handler vigorously covering black smudges with cornstarch. “But what in hell are you supposed to do when you have to travel 500 miles with a white poodle?”

Perambulating mops known as Yorkshire terriers had their fragile silken locks bound up in wax paper and rubber bands whenever they were out of the ring; often they wore woolen booties to keep from scratching up their own coiffures. But the most pampered were the poodles. Ch. Wilber White Swan, a tiny (just 6 Ibs.) four-year-old poodle, patiently put up with hours of clipping, shearing, shampooing (with bluing), and. of course, the inevitable, endless bout with brush and comb. Some 70 toy poodles, including eight of Wilber’s get, stole the show.

The U.S. is in the midst of a toy-poodle vogue. The carefully trimmed bundles of fluff* have been dogs of fashion since the days of Queen Anne. In the U.S. poodles took a long time catching on. Only 50 of them were registered in the American Kennel Club by 1930. Not until the early 1950s did dog lovers in large numbers discover that poodles are as bright and companionable as they are susceptible to ostentatious hairdos. Last year there were 16,691 registered with the A.K.C.

A proud toy-poodle owner, who also happens to be a hi-fi fan, tried to explain the phenomenon at the Garden last week: “This is one more sign of what you might call sophistication for the masses. The poodle is purely and simply a luxury dog: no suggestion of proletarian practicality; no good for hunting, at least not any more; no good for herding sheep; no good for tracking convicts. The American people are getting more of the good things in life all the time—things that used to belong to the aristocracy: sailboats, golf, good music. Why not poodles? The poodle vogue is something like hi-fi—or maybe I should say hi-fido.”

In the competition, such sturdy animals as Tristram the Great Dane and Dryad’s Conversation Piece, a Newfoundland, dropped out early, their only consolation the blue ribbons in their own classes. When the call went out for best in show, Wilber White Swan strutted onstage like a cocksure ham, flaunting his dog’s conviction that he was a lot more of a dog than the other finalists—the boxer, the bloodhound, the English setter, the standard poodle and the Sealyham. The judge’s vote made Wilber the first toy dog ever to win the high award. He may have looked like a useless household ornament, but to his owner, Long Island Dog Breeder Bertha Smith, he is a practical animal indeed. Said she proudly: “Wilber’s stud fee will jump from $250 to $350.”

* For shows, the most popular toy-poodle tonsure is the English saddle cut, designed to leave the little dogs looking like lions. On Wilber’s larger cousin, the standard poodle, the saddle cut once served a purpose. When the standard was still a working field dog, the heavy mane around chest and neck protected heart and lungs while swimming in icy water. Shaved hindquarters aided swimming, while tufts of hair on legs and hips warmed the joints where blood runs close to the skin. The fancy topknot and powder-puff tail helped mark the animals when working in dense underbrush.