Call me behind the times, but I’m a great movie fan. I like the music and the importance of movies we see mostly on the Turner network and American Movie Classics today. Who can forget Bette Davis in Now, Voyager or the fascinating cast of characters in Ship of Fools? Come to think of it, who could forget Bette Davis in anything.
Like many of us in dog shows, I learned from those movies and I took them to heart. That’s why I always say dog lovers are among the most romantic, passionate people in the world. It doesn’t mean we’re always right about everything (even though we want to be), or that we’re shining examples of purity. I mean, if the Esmeralda von Havenbergs and Blanche Jacobus’s of this world didn’t scratch and claw at each other every now and then, where would be the drama?
Who are Blanche and Esmeralda? Come now. You can’t tell me you don’t know about the naughty dog show novel in its second printing now, thanks to all of you. We’re talking aboutThe Blue Ribbon!
Life is a movie and we are the stars. That’s what Esmeralda says and I believe it.
Novels and movies are a lot alike. In fact, when I’m writing a story, it’s exactly like living a movie and that was the conclusion of the novel. Let’s talk about Esmeralda and Blanche.
Were they patterend after exhibitors in real life? Yes, they were. Esmeralda, the educated daughter of the wealthiest man in town and Blanche Jacobus, the saucy shop girl, made for great contrasting characters. What made it even more fun is, they were inspired by two real-life sisters I knew. Sure, I took liberties, bringing them to life – how could I help it? Wouldn’t you be tempted to elaborate just a little to add some spice to an already interesting recipe? I added spice and fell completely in love with them . . . slim, dark-haired Esmeralda in her fashionable Parisian black . . . busty, blonde Blanche in hot pink. Two forces of Nature electrifying the air with drama from the moment they met. I was besotted from the instant they entered my mind.
I would remain besotted with Blanche and Esmeralda as their story unfolded through the politics, music and dog show winners of the 1940s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s.
“Are you crazy, Mr. Hevener?” (Yes, they call me Mr. Hevener. I insist on it as a matter of courtesy and respect. And I return the compliment to those smart enough to show such class). “Are you crazy writing about people who are so old?”
Did you say “old?” Yes, I heard correctly. They called the stars of my stories “old.” As if “old” meant “not interesting.”
Let me tell you something: Grandma Hevener was someone you probably never met any more than Blance and Esmeralda. But, Grandma had a thing or two to say about old age. How’s this for starters: “It’s not the numbers that count, honey. It’s you. The only nmbers that matter are the ones in your bank account.”
Here’s one of my favorites, delivered on her birthday. I asked her what it felt like. “Honey,” she said, sitting up straight and running both hands through her long silvery hair. “I feel the same as I always did!” … she was 80.
When she died at 87, Grandma had lots of secrets, a Chihuahua and two boyfriends. I met one of them when he was 101 and I asked if he remembered her. The man blushed.
So much for statistics and the zest of Mae West. (A woman of many virtues, temperance not among them). I say we in the dog show crowd should live it up and live it up big. Party ‘til the sun comes up and laugh the day away. If anybody can play this game – with its store full of breeds and colors to choose from (Hey, this isn’t a dog store, it’s a whole MALL), the hairdresser school of styles and products, the models we’ve got for handlers – and not see the creativity, well, click it baby, you don’t have a clue.
Dog shows are theater and we – romanitic, naughty and fun – are the stars.