Go Greyhound

It’s the stuff of paperback romance: There’s the poor orphan outcast, career in the tank, condemned to Death Row, when a titled Briton swoops down from the sky and carries her off to a new life of ease and affection.

In this story, that really happens.

But the beneficiaries are furry, fast and frustrated by a life of chasing uncatchable rabbits.

Maggie McCurry, a Studio City resident who can claim the title Lady of Manningham back home in England, is the founder of Wings for Greyhounds--the only greyhound air shuttle rescue service in the nation. In the aged twin-engine Beechcraft she pilots out of Van Nuys Airport, she flies racing dogs whose careers are over from the track in Tucson to California adoption kennels in Irvine, Acton, Gilroy and Redding.

“Maggie got greyhound fever really bad,” said one greyhound rescue worker, who credits the flight service with helping ensure new lives as pets for some of the thousands of greyhounds that are routinely slaughtered once they get too old to win.

McCurry came to Hollywood two decades ago in pursuit of fame and fortune as an actress. But her acting aspirations died long ago, and her Hollywood marriage ended up on the rocks. So she took up flying, earning a commercial pilot’s license. But even that turned boring.

“I was sick of going to Santa Barbara for tuna sandwiches,” she said.

Then 18 months ago, a greyhound dog with soft eyes and a washed-up racing career turned her life around. McCurry credits Lanky Lance--the dog she now owns--with propelling her into the greyhound rescue movement that has mushroomed nationally in the past few years.

“I had been casting around for something to do, jobwise, so I came up with this,” McCurry said. “It self-evolved. It found me and turned into a full production. There’s certainly enough work to keep me and my airplane busy.”

McCurry averages three to four flights a month, each time carrying two dogs--the capacity, along with a co-pilot--on her 1960 aircraft. She removed the rear seats in the plane and replaced them with piles of comforters and pillows for the dogs to curl up on. The dogs wear special harnesses to protect them in case of turbulence.

“I feel like Mrs. Noah, plodding along across the desert with animals, two by two,” McCurry said.

Although she incorporated as a nonprofit business, McCurry said she bears most of the expenses herself. The trips cost about $300--or $150 per dog--mostly for gasoline. She said she transported about 50 dogs last year.

“I have something to do every week,” she said. “If I had more money and a bigger plane, I could do more.”

McCurry can fly dogs to their destination in less than three hours, a tenth of the time it would take if they traveled by land. This makes the trip far easier on the dogs, which otherwise would have to be cooped up in cages on a truck for up to 30 hours. The majority of dogs--up to 32 at a time--are delivered to adoption groups by truck and trailer.

She is not alone in her mission, but part of a network of hundreds of greyhound rescuers nationwide.

She gets dogs from Gary and Lorri Tracy, who operate the Greyhound Adoption League in Tucson and rescue 50 to 70 greyhounds a month from the track there. Unlike the swankier track in Phoenix 120 miles north, where top dogs compete for purses six times as rich, racers cut from the starting gates at Tucson face a bleak future.

The Tracys find homes for about 250 dogs a year from their own shelters in Tucson and El Paso. The rest are sent to four adoption groups in California and two in Utah and Idaho, Lorri Tracy said.

Gary Tracy runs the kennel operation full time, traveling more than 80,000 miles a year delivering dogs.

“We’re always in debt,” said Lorri Tracy, who works at a florist shop to help support the adoption program, which costs about $50,000 a year. They rely on donations to stay afloat.

When she learned of McCurry’s offer to help, Lorri Tracy said: “I was ecstatic! It saves my husband another whole day of driving [to the Monterey and Northern California areas] and makes it a lot easier.”

An estimated 40,000 or more greyhounds were destroyed each year before the first adoption program began in 1987 at a Florida racetrack. Now, there are more than 220 greyhound rescue groups nationwide, some partially funded by the greyhound breeding and racing industry, which placed 18,000 of the sleek, needle-nosed dogs in private homes in 1996. Still, 9,500 retired racers were killed.

The killings, coupled with long-standing horror stories of abuse and mistreatment of the dogs, have been at the heart of bitter political battles between the racing industry and animal protection groups.

The industry, led by the National Greyhound Assn., has met the criticism by attempting to police itself. Random inspections of breeding farms has weeded out a dozen or so people who have been banned for life from the industry. And leaders urge breeders to produce quality, not quantity, reducing the number of unwanted dogs. In 1996, 36,688 puppies were whelped, a 29% decline from 52,000 in 1991, the first year statistics were kept.

But many animal advocates are still working hard to shut down the industry, lobbying state leaders to ban dog racing as cruel to the dogs.

Theirs is an uphill battle. More than 27 million spectators attend races at 55 greyhound tracks in 18 states, generating $226 million a year in revenues to state and county governments. That’s up from less than $30 million just 20 years ago.

Dog races were held briefly in California in 1919, but since then opponents have managed to keep the sport illegal here.

Nationwide, eight greyhound tracks have closed within the last three years, not necessarily because of pressure from animal activists but because of economic conditions, said Joan Belle Isle, president of the Greyhound Project Inc., a Massachusetts-based organization started three years ago to support rescue groups.

“Casinos, riverboats and lotteries have deeply eroded the number of people who would otherwise be going to tracks,” Belle Isle said. Many breeders are retiring just because they can no longer make a living, she said.

McCurry says she stays out of the political debate.

“I just try to deal with the dogs that have a problem today. Eventually, by doing that, we will take care of the dogs tomorrow.”

McCurry’s uncle in England owned greyhounds, which date back more than 4,000 years and are considered one of the oldest breeds on Earth. Greyhounds, which come in a variety of colors, were depicted in ancient Egyptian drawings. At one time in Europe, they could be owned only by royalty.

McCurry said she met and fell in love with Lance, her 7-year-old greyhound, during an open house in Acton in August 1996 at Retired Racers Inc., a 5-year-old greyhound rescue program operated by Larry and Linda Brown.

The Browns house 14 foster greyhounds at their three-acre ranch in a converted garage they call “the clubhouse.” Each dog has a separate cubicle with a chair, carpeting, pictures on the walls and a doggie door to an individual play yard. The building is temperature-controlled, and soothing jazz plays continuously on a radio.

The Browns charge $175 for a dog--far less than the amount they spend to spay or neuter and to medically treat and care for the dog before it is adopted, they say. They rely on donations to help meet their expenses, plus income from Larry Brown’s plumbing business in Woodland Hills.

Every weekend from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., they welcome visitors to their ranch at 6027 Valley Sage Road.

Two greyhounds rescued in Tucson last month--Orion and Red Vixen--were selected for the trip in McCurry’s airplane to Van Nuys, then driven to the rescue ranch in Acton. Within six days, the dogs were with their new owners.

“It was love at first sight,” explained Danyelle Hummel, 18, of Palmdale. She, her parents and 16-year-old brother unanimously selected Red Vixen, a 3-year-old fawn-colored female that would rather play with a rabbit than chase one.

She is the second greyhound for the Hummels, who adopted one five years ago but recently lost it to bone cancer. The Hummels regularly work as volunteers at the Browns’ ranch and serve on the board of directors.

Despite the steady stream of initiates discovering the once-mysterious greyhound, McCurry said the need for new homes is endless.

“We could get dogs off the track all day and all night,” she said, “but unless we can get them adopted, we can’t do any more.”