Indy Ann

She was whelped in 1953 and was by Pageant out of Praying Darkie, and her owner was Ed Willard (Sam Ysidro, Calif.), a fine gentleman whose understandable affection for her was shared by untold numbers of fans. Indy Ann was a brindle whose racing weight was around sixty-one pounds, and when her career ended the night of April 18, 1957, she had appeared in 223 races, had 137 wins, 37 seconds, and 18 thirds. She was unplaced on just 31 occasions, and perhaps the best proof of her ability was the fact that in 138 of her starts she went off at odds of less than even money.

Her career mark of 137 wins, which still stands as a world’s record, easily surpassed the previous all-time mark of the great Beach Comber, who one summer raced at Caliente, which also was the scene of most of Indy Ann’s racing. In fact, her competition was restricted to Caliente and Phoenix, and she held sprint records on both tracks. The caliber of racing presented at these two places is underlined by the good showings dogs from these tracks have made in major eastern stakes, and one good example was L.L.’s Doug, who did well in both Massachusetts and Florida en route to attaining second place behind Indy Ann with 128 Career wins.

When a leg injury ended her racing, Indy Ann became a remarkable brood bitch, although she succumbed to a form of cancer after just four breedings. Nearly all her pups were useful, and some were outstanding, including Preston Adams with eighty-two wins and Stylish Daisy with seventy-eight victories.

Willard bred Indy Ann only to the best …. Rocker Mac, Imp., Saddler, Sunmarker, Imp., and Cleveland Lad.

Indy Ann had a good break, fine speed, and could, if necessary, go a distance. I never saw a better rail runner, and at times she would hug it so tightly her coat would brush on it. She had the traits of a real champion in that she not only had ability but intelligence as well. Rarely did she allow herself to get into trouble. If caught in heavy traffic, instead of plunging on she’d check slightly or move a bit from one side to the other until she saw an opening. Then she’d drive on through.

She was very well-mannered, and it seemed she realized she was good. This greyhound was almost regal in her actions. I recall occasions when our track photographer would go to the kennel to get pictures of her, and she grew to know us well. She seemed to know, also, what our purpose was and would tolerate us as if aware this was something she had to endure, like it or not.

Her trainer would open _the kennel door, and Indy Ann would look at us momentarily, then hop to the floor and walk, with-out orders to the turnout pen where she knew the grooming platform was. She would climb right up on it, then turn to us as if to say, ‘Well, here I am, let’s get this over with.’