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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781501820076 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Abingdon Press |
| Publication date: | 08/16/2016 |
| Pages: | 224 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.70(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Service Tails
More Stories of Man'S Best Hero
By Ace Collins
Abingdon Press
Copyright © 2016 Ace CollinsAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5018-2007-6
CHAPTER 1
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 room 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 optimism.
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.
Only when Morris had a grasp of his role did the trainer bring a small, dark German shepherd named Kiss into the room. The initial meeting was not what Morris expected. The dog showed little interest in him. Even as they put on the harness and the man grabbed hold, the dog remained somewhat aloof. Reacting to Humphrey, she tolerated what she likely viewed as the very awkward human attempting to give her orders.
Morris would quickly discover that the standoffish dog was the least of his worries. The visitor's main issues were with the trainer. Humphrey was a hard man to please. He would not abide commands being issued in any order but what he prescribed. In fact, the only time the trainer showed compassion was when Morris stepped on Kiss's foot. Then Humphrey was worried only about the dog's well-being.
The roads that the visitor, dog, and trainer walked each day were slick with snow and ice. The city streets they traversed were filled with people, cars, trucks, and horse-drawn carts. In many of the places the team traveled, they were surrounded by steep drop-offs, rushing mountain streams, and low-hanging branches. And all the while Morris was learning to handle the dog, Humphrey was barking out orders. The young man heard the critiques so often he wanted to scream.
Always pick up the handle of the harness on left and keep the dog on your left. You must keep your hand close by your side or you will hit a post or pole. Protect the dog when you sit down. No, not that way. Make sure the dog is completely under the bench or chair so that others won't step on her. And don't pull your dog; she is supposed to pull you. If she stops, you stop because she is trying to tell you something. So listen to her.
Hour after hour and day after day, the orders kept coming. Thanks to often ignoring Humphrey's instructions, the young man ran into trees, poles, and fences and tumbled down a fair share of hillsides. Only after being bruised and battered several times did Morris learn to trust the dog. Then and only then did things get easier.
As Morris grew used to following Kiss's lead, he asked the trainer why the dog often took seemingly erratic routes. Humphrey didn't bother verbally explaining the dog's unique navigation. Rather, he took Morris back to the spots where Kiss had veered off and showed him such things as a low-hanging limb or a sign that the dog could have easily walked under but would have knocked Morris over. When the perplexed visitor asked, "But how did she know how tall I was?" Humphrey explained, "I trained her to know."
One afternoon Morris asked if it would be all right to change the dog's name. Humphrey wanted to know why a change was necessary. Morris answered, "I just don't want to go back home and constantly be calling out for a Kiss. It might just be misunderstood." The trainer laughed and assured Morris he could call the dog anything he wanted. From that point on, the female German shepherd was known as Buddy.
After weeks of hard training, Humphrey announced it was time for solo work. For their first trek, Morris and Buddy would walk down the mountain road to town, do some shopping, and eat a meal. The trainer also suggested the rather shabby American get a haircut. Before the pair left, Humphrey issued a final warning. "Morris, you can be a blind person with a dog or a blind person with eyes. To be the latter, you must trust your dog's eyes." Those words would echo in the man's brain for the rest of this life.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Service Tails by Ace Collins. Copyright © 2016 Ace Collins. Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Introduction ix
Beginnings 1
Finding Love 23
Team Potential 39
Memories 55
Employing Experience 71
Down but Not Out 85
A Ticket to Ride 103
Maintaining Balance 121
Hope 137
Ignoring Barriers 155
Unconditional 173
Service Forgotten 187