I hope your readers will be interested in this early portrait of Frederick Oriel Williams with a Frenchy. The photo was taken around 1910 and this date can be verified to within a few months. The young man who died in1915 was my brother in law, married to my elder sister, a widow with two children, Frederick aged three (such a posh name for a cockney kid), and Ada a girl of eighteen months. These children were my nephew and niece almost the same age as myself and we were brought up together as a family all our lives.
I was the youngest of a family of ten and the only one interested in the dog world of my father and Uncle Arthur Gutteridge. My father had passed away by the time I was fifteen leaving me with a fair knowledge of the French and English Bulldogs and of course Mr Inbetween.
I had maneged to acquire a few little oddments in the way of figures, prints etc about our little friend the frenchy and early bulldogs but unfortunately for me when some of my brothers and sisters flew the coop they took various things with them, and when it came to my turn to fly the nest very little was left. At that time though I didn’t mind so much as I had lost interest in the dog world, however later in my life interest was again aroused by the purchase of an old book which carried a portrait of a Toy Bulldog cum Frenchy. I enquired about my family for relics, but drew a blank until I mentioned the matter to my nephew. He told me that one my brothers, Joe, had probably disposed of them, giving them to some of his cronies. He further said that he had a photo of his father with one of grandad’s bulldogs. I was very surprised, for it had been in the family for eighty years without my knowing. When he finally gave me the picture my delight knew no bounds, instead of an English Bulldog it was an early Frenchy looking out at me. I don’t think the dog came from my father’s kennels but from my uncle Arthur. We know that the young man in the photo was not a breeder or fancier, so he must have borrowed the dog for the photo. What do you think of the dog? Have you seen a pair of ears like them today? They would have been a credit to Dumbo! Probably by today’s standards he would not have gone far in the ring but to me he is completely typical of the average Frenchy of the early part of the century. He brings back so many memories to me of the lovely little creatures that weighed 12-15 lbs. Our wonderful Toy Bulldog.
Ch Bumps, famous Toy Bulldog. Owned Lady Pilkington. England 1913
Mrs Irene Rees and Mrs Pat Wilson kindly sent me some books containing pictures of present day Frenchies. I am very impressed by the standard, the breed has certainly established itself, but where have all the toys gone? The dogs of today seem hefty and cobby weighing I would think as much as 30lbs, twice the size of the average dog of my early days. The shape and structure used to vary so much, leggy ones, shorty ones, some with a nice roachback some without and even some with a swampy back. Some had a good stop behind the nose, some with a long foreface. I noticed as a lad that other breeds such as wire haired Terriers, King Charles, Pugs, practically all breeds were much more uniform in type than the Frenchy. When I asked my dad and Arthur why so they told me that although the clubs had laid down standards, they had forgotten to tell the dogs. They also pointed out that most of the other breeds, apart from the terriers, had been established for a few hundred years or so
and that the Frenchy had been going for a short time but with careful breeding would eventually establish themselves away from the Toy Bulldog image.Speaking for myself I was all for the Toys and still have feelings for them today. The small dog was far more popular than his larger brothers among the generaal public, who bought them as pets, so we endeavoured to produce a few small dogs. My dad and Arthur knew nothing about genetics, I doubt if they could even spell the word, but their method of selective breeding seemed to work for them and they produced a few little gems. Not runts! Not malnourished! Not malformed, but beautiful little Toy Bulldogs with tulip ears.
Although the breed known as the Toy Bulldog was killed off in the early part of the century the name lived on in some circles and still does. In the 20’s an American boxer named Micky Walker was known and billed as “ The Toy Bulldog” . He was world champion and I’m sure some of the American readers remember this. Today a short, thickset person is referred to as being built not like a French Bulldog but as a Toy Bulldog . Mr Walker came to London and fought a Scot named Tommy Milligan, unfortunately for Tommy he lost the bout, unfortunately for both boxers the promoter absconded with the money. Another American boxer to visit these shores was young Stribling, he purchased a Frenchy from Arthur and took it back with him.
To return to the small dogs, quite a lot of people seemed to think it was the result of malnutrition. This was not the case where we were concerned. We lived within a stone’s throw of Caledonian Market where also was housed the Metrpolitan slaughterhouse. I was friendly with most of the workers of the slaughterhouse attending the same school as their children. I used to visit on average twice weekly and was given various offcuts of offal, sweetbreads etc.. for the dogs. The various abbatoirs in this complex seeemed to be run by entire families. The Boweres were in charge of the sheep and the Whitehweds of the cattle section. It was an occupation one had to be born to handed down from father to son. There is a story which is part of Islington folklore which you may find interesting. It is not about Frenchies but it illustrates the period well.
After the cattle, sheep and pigs were butchered, dressed and prepared for distribution to various butchers, they were transported in large pantechnicon type wagons usually drawn by two or three or more shire horses. The carcasses were hung in rows the side of the vans were large flapping canvasses giving easy access to the contents. After loading , the vans made their way down Market Road, crossing Caledonian Road into St. James’ Road then into Liverpool Road en route to Smithfield. Before the junction of these two roads, shadowy figures lurked in the doorways, knives at the ready to leap into the vans and help themselves to a tasty cut or two of meat. Naturally this process was frowned upon by the authorities who objected to their goods being manhandled by amateurs. Perhaps hunger drove them to it, but what a temptation it must have been for hungry people to see fifty or more carcasses of prime beef, lamb or pork pass by the front door. Mr Popjoy, or Poppy as he was known, was very adept at leaping on and off the vans. One day his ambition must have got the better of him and he saw the chance tp purloin an entire carcass. He staggered to the tailboard and dropped an entire porker over the side onto the street. Giving it a fireman’s lift, he staggered a way like “Tom Tom the piper’s son”. As this feat was executed in broad daylight it did not go unnoticed by a number of interested spectators. Most would have given him a hand in exchange for a share of the spoils, but Poppy refused any such help. An unkind outsider ( no local resident would do such a thing) called the law. A few people followed Poppy home hoping for a handout. Soon the police arrived and began searching the house. On entering the back room, Poppy said to thje law, “ You must be very quiet when you go in there , my old grannie is very ill and the doctor says she mustn’t be disturbed”. The law dutifully obliged, and searched the room finding not a thing. After a final glance around the dark room they finally left on tiptoes so as not to disturb the old lady. The police apologised and said how sorry they were for the condition of his gran. As this sentence was uttered a querulous voice came from the crowd gathered outside, “ His old gran died years ago rest her soul. He always was a worry to the poor old girl.”
Back in the room the bed cover was withdrawn to reveal the porker, complete with bonnet. “ I can see it’s your gran” said one of the cops. “ It’s remarkable the likeness. What did she die of, swine fever?” It is surprising the sense of humour the law can show when they have struck oil. Poppie was remanded at Caledonia Rd police station but the next day was released for lack of evidence. The pig had disappeared!
To return to the portrait I would like to thank Fred Willimas and his sister Ada for allowing me to make copies if the photo featuring their father and the Frecnhy. There must be more such photos about if only we could locate them. I am sure that the Minors of Canonbury, last heard of in Canvey Island must have some momentoes. Also Reg Gutteridge and Jackie Pallo must have photos of their grandfather and his little Frenchies. Perhaps we will locate them one day. I hope so.
.
