by Jim Wight
Alf, although so happy to be reunited with his family, was not at all well. The stress of his final weeks in the RAF, together with the pain induced by the thorough overhaul of both ends of his digestive tract, had left him in a state of mental and physical exhaustion. But he could not stay long in Glasgow; he was broke, and needed to get back to Thirsk and begin building a secure future for his family. On returning to Thirsk, he soon found that the practice had become much busier. Years later, when recalling the pain and weariness at that time, Alf remarked, ‘I had the simplest and most effective of therapies – work!’
Alf had a job in Thirsk to return to – but no home. In June 1943, while he was still serving in the RAF, Donald Sinclair had remarried and was living with his wife at 23 Kirkgate. Unable to return to live in the top rooms at Kirkgate, Alf joined Joan and her parents at their home in Sowerby.
This was no hardship for Alf. The house, Blakey View, was situated on the tree-lined front street of this attractive village whose appearance has changed very little to this day. Blakey View was not only comfortable, with a pleasant walled garden at the back, but it was conveniently positioned next to the Crown and Anchor pub and many were the pints of beer that Alf shared with his father-in-law and friends in its welcoming interior.
Donald’s marriage had come as a shock to Alf, as he had always considered his senior partner to be the archetypal ladies’ man who would never settle down. The James Herriot books depict Siegfried as full of charm and attractive to women, while Tristan is portrayed as the girl-chaser, but as an expert in the art of pursuing the fairer sex, the elder brother stood alone.
Siegfried’s housekeeper is described in the books as repeatedly telling visitors to Skeldale House that her employer was in Brawton visiting his mother. James Herriot based this fictional town on Harrogate, which was where Donald’s mother lived, but there is little doubt that she was not the only lady who enjoyed the company of the real Siegfried Farnon on his regular absences from the practice.
Donald, however, married well. His bride was Audrey Adamson and they were to remain happily married for over fifty years. She had an entirely different temperament to her husband; where he was impulsive and impatient, she was the embodiment of calm. Many considered her to be the perfect foil for the mercurial Donald.
The new marital status of his senior partner – and thus the changes at Kirkgate – was not the only difference Alf found when he returned to work. He soon discovered that the practice in Thirsk was busier than ever. One of the greatest contributors to the rejuvenation of British agriculture was Adolf Hitler, the war years having ensured that the country needed food. With both arable products and livestock becoming more valuable, farming fortunes took an upturn and, with them, those of the veterinary profession.
Alf found himself working harder and harder, and although enjoying his work despite the long hours, he soon began to feel that a major decision about his future would have to be made. As a salaried partner, he was not only working harder than Donald, but doing virtually all the night calls, and he felt that he deserved his fair share of the profits. In addition, he had no lasting security. He wanted to have a full partnership. With Donald benefiting from the increased revenue from the practice, a large gulf had opened between the fortunes of the two men and it was widening by the day.
Alf would often recall those days. ‘My overwhelming ambition was to work for one man – J. A. Wight. Much as I liked Donald, I needed more security. I was simply working myself to the bone and filling his pockets.’ In January 1944, he approached Donald with a view to acquiring a full partnership. Donald, although having a genuine affection and respect for his younger colleague, had no intention of relinquishing undisputed control over his practice, and Alf’s request was flatly refused.
Alf found he had easily re-established himself in the practice, and felt that he could have enjoyed a long and happy future in Thirsk; he liked the farmers with their hard and honest approach to life, and he got on well with his senior partner, despite his unpredictable ways. Desperately disappointed at Donald’s rejection, he began to consider his options.
He would not attempt to establish a business in opposition to Donald; not only did he regard him as a friend but his contract as a salaried partner precluded such a move within a radius of ten miles of Thirsk. He discussed the situation with Joan who, although not wanting to leave a town that had been her home for so many years, was fully prepared to go where her husband could find security which, for a man in his perilous financial position, was of paramount importance. He had no alternative but to begin to look elsewhere.
Many conflicting opinions about Donald Sinclair have been expressed over the years. Articles have been written accusing Alfred Wight of being too hard on Donald, claiming that his portrayal of Donald as Siegfried Farnon was unfair and that he was not simply an eccentric and unusual man, but one full of fine qualities – ones that the books failed to convey. Others, however, have hinted that James Herriot was much too kind towards the character of Siegfried, saying that the real Donald severely exploited his younger partner throughout his professional career.
The truth lies somewhere in between. Above all, Donald was a humorous and warm personality, someone whom it was utterly impossible to dislike and there is no doubt that James Herriot portrayed him as such. The fan mail that Alf received over the years substantiates this; to millions of readers, Siegfried Farnon is a most engaging and fascinating man. In this respect, James Herriot’s readers have not been misled, but Alf hid the other side of his partner from his fans. Donald may have been a most interesting and entertaining person but he was also one of the most difficult, with many being of the opinion that the partnership survived thanks only to the patience and good nature of Alfred Wight.
Regular work was something to which Donald would never submit. He was not a lazy man – in fact, he was on the go all the time – but his erratic personality dictated that he could not discipline himself to work regular hours. In the early years when there were only the two of them in the practice, Alf worked almost every night, Donald looking after night duties only when his partner was away on his short and infrequent holidays. The constant and tiring grind of veterinary practice was not for Donald Sinclair.
This fact was only discussed among his close associates and, in his later years, my father used to amuse us with his memories of Donald’s reluctance to work. ‘There is a subtle difference in our approach to night work between Donald and myself,’ he told me, many years ago. ‘I dislike night work, but I do it. He loves it, but he doesn’t do it!’
Donald regularly told me how much he, himself, loved out-of-hours work and often he would reprimand me gently should I be a little short-tempered in the morning following a night of feverish activity on some farm while everyone else, including Donald, was asleep. ‘You should count your blessings, Jim,’ he would say to me patiently. ‘It’s a privilege to get up in the early hours on a summer morning and drive around this beautiful countryside. It’s like a holiday with pay!’ Strangely, he very rarely enjoyed this attractive aspect of the veterinary surgeon’s life.
‘Call out the boys!’ was a cry we often heard. Such was his pride in our provision of a prompt twenty-four-hour service, he would repeatedly inform our clients, ‘If you have any doubts, do not hesitate to telephone. Day or night, call out the boys!’
The ‘boys’, of whom I was one, did not advertise their services with quite the same enthusiasm. Over the twenty-five years that I worked with Donald, I never saw him perform any night duties at all, save during one period in the mid 1970s. He decided then, for some inexplicable reason and at the age of well over sixty, to begin regular visits to farms at night – something he had never done previously. Was this because he was feeling a little guilty? I do not think so. I am sure it was just another example of his unique and unpredictable personality.
Donald’s avoidance of regular work throughout his professional life has been a source of great amusement, not only for Alf
Wight, but for the many young veterinary surgeons who worked in our practice. A gentle smile would always crease my father’s face whenever he produced the classic phrase which summarised his partner’s attitude perfectly. ‘Willing to work … but won’t!’
Alf not only worked harder in the practice than his partner, he shouldered almost all the responsibilities of running it. He had no one to share this burden as Donald steadfastly declined to take on any additional partners. Many young veterinary surgeons sought partnerships in Thirsk but all were refused, myself included. Donald did not want the hassle of partnerships, considering them a potential source of bad feeling within the practice. There may be some truth in this, but it also resulted in the practice of Sinclair and Wight lacking any real stability, with the paying customers having to keep adjusting to a long procession of different veterinary assistants driving on to their farms.
James Herriot was very loyal in the portrayal of his partner in the books, revealing little of the difficult side to his character but, in fairness to Donald, his many good qualities would always far outweigh his less appealing ones.
When I was refused a full partnership in 1976, I did not worry too much. I had some security – knowing that, one day, I would inherit my father’s share – but for him, back in 1944, the situation was very different.
At the time Alf was not short of offers. He was in regular touch with his first employer, Jock McDowall in Sunderland, while he saw a great deal of Frank Bingham in Leyburn during the course of his work. Not only did both men, having heard of Alf’s dissatisfaction with his situation in Thirsk, express their interest in his joining them, but his old Glasgow college friend, Eddie Straiton, who was building up a large practice in Staffordshire, wrote to Alf as early as November 1943 suggesting the possibility of a partnership.
In February 1944, Alf visited Stafford to have a look round and he liked what he saw. Eddie was well organised and his practice was booming, with a busy small animal branch as well as the large animal work. There were cows everywhere; Staffordshire, with its endless green fields full of bovines, was exactly what Alf was looking for. He returned to Thirsk to think things over and discuss a possible move with Joan. There was no urgency to join Eddie straight away, which suited Alf as he wanted time to consider; a big decision lay ahead. Staffordshire, although an attractive county, could not take the place of Yorkshire in Alfred Wight’s heart; he desperately wanted to remain in the county that he loved. Over the next few months, he could think of little else but his future. In the rare time off that he had, he visited other parts of the country where there were opportunities to set up in practice.
One place he visited was Whitby on the Yorkshire coast. As there was no veterinary surgeon there at that time, Alf considered it had potential. One afternoon, he stood on the high ground near Whitby Abbey and looked out to sea. As he watched the waves crashing onto the shore, with a bitter north-east wind slamming into his face, he thought to himself, ‘It can be cold in Thirsk, but this is something else!’ He looked out to sea again before turning round in a full circle. Another thought struck him: ‘There’s only half a practice here!’ No money was to be made out of the North Sea, and Whitby was crossed off the list.
He visited a practice in Cumbria where there was a possible partnership but he did not take to the veterinary surgeon there; a future with someone he did not particularly like was not an appealing prospect and that opening too was jettisoned.
His brain boiled with possibilities. He still had offers from both Jock McDowall and Frank Bingham but did not consider them seriously. He did not fancy going back to work in Sunderland. Not only had he grown to love the beauty of the countryside around Thirsk but he did not want to return to mainly small animal work, having tasted the life of a country vet. He realised he would also have to work very long hours unless old Mac changed his drinking habits. Frank Bingham’s offer had the attraction of a life among cows in some of the finest scenery in England but, much as he loved Frank, he could not accept, knowing that he would be doing almost all the work. Frank could spend vast amounts of time with a glass in his hand and Alf knew him well enough to know that he would never change. There was no one he liked more than Frank Bingham, but the easy-going Irishman and the young, ambitious Alf Wight would form a very one-sided partnership.
Eddie Straiton’s offer, too, worried him. Knowing Eddie well, he was aware of his machine-like work rate. How long could he keep pace with him? Some letters he received from Eddie in 1944 gave him food for thought.
‘I have been trying to get time to answer your letter, Alf, but this last fortnight has been something of a nightmare. Ten days ago between 7 and 8 a.m. one morning we received 14 phone calls – all large animal cases and three of them were calving cases.’ In another letter, he wrote: ‘I have now finished my colts [castrations], thank goodness. I did seven last Sunday morning. I have been wanting to get a car with some power in it for you because this is a widespread area and these small horsepower cars just don’t stand up to the work.’ In yet another, he wrote: ‘My wife only sees me once per day at around 6–7 am. One man can only do so much but two men can attain three times as much.’
Eddie Straiton was extremely keen for Alf to join him. With his dream of forming a partnership of Straiton and Wight, he not only offered Alf an immediate and equal share of the practice profits, but he was prepared to allow him an extended period of time over which to buy his share in the business. This was enough to sway Alf’s decision. Despite fully realising that he would be plunging into a fermenting cauldron of work, he could not refuse this opportunity to establish himself in a practice with enormous potential. In the spring of 1944, he accepted Eddie’s offer. Never one to be frightened of hard work, he made preparations to join his workaholic chum in Stafford.
Having informed Donald of his decision, he assured him that he would stay on until an assistant was appointed to take his place. Several weeks elapsed before one arrived and it was Alf who had arranged it. While in the Air Force in Scarborough, he had met a fellow veterinary surgeon called Jim Hancock. The two of them had worked together in the Grand Hotel’s basement where Jim had remarked that it was an unusual sight to see two qualified vets shovelling mountains of coke. The Air Force authorities must have considered them a good team as they were promoted to mucking out stinking piggeries together later in their RAF careers.
Alf and Jim Hancock had become friends, and when it was agreed that he was leaving Thirsk, Alf contacted Jim, suggesting that there may be a job for him there. Jim accepted and arrived in July 1944.
It was then that all Alf’s plans were, quite suddenly, blown clean away; the deal with Eddie Straiton fell through. Eddie wrote to Alf with some disturbing information. With the war still in progress, he said that, despite veterinary surgeons being in a ‘reserved occupation’, he had been informed that should Alf join him as a partner in the Stafford practice, there existed the possibility of one of them being called up into the armed forces.
This unexpected turn of events presented the two young veterinary surgeons with a very serious situation. Eddie, having built up his practice through months of unbelievably hard work, could not take the chance of being called up; the effects on his thriving, but still young, practice could have been catastrophic. With a heavy heart, he wrote to Alf suggesting that their plans would have to be shelved until after the end of the war – an unknown period of time. Eddie’s letters to Alf at that time display genuine, deep-felt sorrow, but he had no alternative.
Alf, now unemployed, with little money and a wife and child to support, had to find work somewhere – and fast. But he was not too downhearted. British agriculture was in a healthy state which meant that there were well-paid jobs available. He began to study the Veterinary Record for vacancies, but could see little that really appealed to him. Despite the problems over a partnership with Donald, he really wanted to remain in Thirsk. He saw little chance of achieving this but, to his astonishment, he was wrong.
Within d
ays, the opportunity arose to restart his career in the town he felt was home, and it was his friend, Jim Hancock, who was largely responsible for providing it. Jim had worked in Thirsk for only a week or two before he realised that such a life was not for him. Not only did he find it impossible to adjust to Donald Sinclair’s erratic running of the practice, but he nurtured an ambition to enter the world of teaching and research. When he learned about Alf’s predicament and understood that Donald would accept Alf back into the practice readily – the two men were still friends despite the difficulties of the preceding few months – he generously offered to leave quickly, thus providing Alf with the opportunity to start again in Thirsk.
This unselfish and providential gesture from Jim Hancock marked a turning point in Alf Wight’s fortunes. From that time on, he established a toehold on the ladder of financial security and consolidated his position through years of hard work and common sense. He was to have periods of financial worry ahead of him but never again would he stand in front of his family as a man who owned… nothing.
After Jim Hancock’s departure, Alf felt that the finger of fate was pointing to his future in Thirsk. He still could not acquire a full partnership with Donald but, with every passing day, his love of the Thirsk area grew and, with it, the realisation that this was where he wanted to make his home and bring up his family.
Donald was someone he still could not help liking. He had come to know him well and could see beyond his awkward side, discerning qualities he considered vitally important in a colleague – a sense of humour and not so much as a trace of underhand behaviour. The only remaining problem lay in persuading Donald to accept him as a full partner.
