Lorken Farms, Labrador Retrievers, Fremont, WI 

Bolo arrives Liverpool Street eleven-five.  Lady Howe looked at her watch and saw that there was just time to motor over to the great London railway terminus and meet the dog: the "wild, unmanageable, stupid dog" whom nobody wanted, despite his wonderful pedigree. His first owner had given him away, because he had come back from some trainers of field-dogs with an evil temper which seemed to be hopeless in one who had been bred for sport.  He had inconsequence been presented as a free gift to one who erroneously thought he could "make something of him."  This owner had now offered to give him away again, and said that if Lady Howe did not like him she was free to have him destroyed.
And here he was at Liverpool Street Station a Labrador Retriever, a rebel and failure.  On his nose and in his ears were sores; his coat was unkempt, and when he was spoken to, even in a kindly way, he growled in a surly and ill-tempered manner.  But for his muzzle it looked as if there might be serious trouble in getting him into the motor-car, with grievous damage to those who touched him.
Lady Howe looked at him dubiously.  To be sure he was of good birth, but his temper!  Should he be sent back, or should she have him destroyed immediately? A decision had to be made quickly, and Bolo's attitude was not helpful: He did not seem to care whether he lived or died.  He looked so miserable and seemed so unhappy that she was inclined to take a risk and try to put a little sunshine into his life.
Lady Howe made her decision. She resolved that she would take him down to the Banchory kennels and give him a chance of life and happiness.

Bolo made a bad start in his new home.  He always started badly.  As soon as he arrived he was taken into a spacious room and the muzzle and chain were taken off him.  After a few minutes of liberty he was called, but refused to come. Offers of food did not appeal to him and when an effort was made to catch him he dodged.  He seemed to suspect and hate everyone in human form, and it was more than an hour before he could be caught, when he was placed in a kennel.  Some days later he was let loose out-of-doors, and again proved ill-tempered and refractory, and for two hours he eluded recapture.

Then something happened which changed the world for Bolo.  His physical strength left him and he became seriously ill.  No longer was he the rampant, self-sufficient Tartar of the past, but a quiet, helpless dependent, very near to death.  During those days he was always gentle and responsive to kindness and as he was nursed back to strength by Lady Howe he became devoted to her.  At last he seemed to have found someone whom he could trust; someone who understood him and was ready to accept him for what he was.  When he recovered his health he was always at her side, and it seemed possible to hope that his life would henceforth be one of serene peace and unalloyed happiness. 

Autumn had now come and the guns were out, so that his mistress took Bolo out with her one day in order to see how he shaped as a sporting dog. There were many things for which he had to tank his forbears.  He had inherited a natural love of retrieving, an excellent nose, and a perfect mouth.  Bolo had plenty of dash.  If it had been a rabbit-shoot he would have been an immensely popular dog, but it was apparent that he needed no little education in the direction of field-work with birds.  Hares and rabbits had for him an attraction which was magnetic and dismaying, and he did not seem to understand that his energy and enthusiasm in coursing them was misdirected zeal.

So that it was a question of applying all the arts of training to the making of Bolo.  He had the right stuff in him, but a lot of wrong stuff mixed with it needed weeding out.  How was it to be done?  By beating him? A moment's reflection was enough to show that this was the wrong way, for there were signs that Bolo's nature had been turned sour by chastisement, and, apart from the obvious cruelty of it, there was a danger that he might revert to his former wildness if he were so mishandled.  Therefore, the rod was spared and the dog not spoiled.

Everything was going well, he was taking to his training and then it happened on the evening before the field trials took place and caused Bolo to behave like a volcano in eruption.  He was always haunted by the demon of fear, and now he was at its mercy.  Not paralyzed into inaction but precipitated into reckless, unreasoning flight from the terror which had almost ruined his life.

The sudden breaking-back to this was caused by a stable-boy, who cracked a heavy whip close to Bolo.  What recollections it aroused in the mind of this sensitive dog may well be imagined, for he lost all control over himself and made a lightning dash for the gateway.  The gate was closed and was high, with iron spikes at the tip; but Bolo, under the impelling influence of fear, lost all caution and sprang up with a tremendous leap.  In a panic he fled.

Countess Howe finished the story in her book. 
"Finally at midnight I gave up the search for him and went to my room, leaving the front door open.  At 5am Bolo came into my room and got into his basket.  When I was about to go to my bath an hour later I was horrified to see big splashed of blood on the floor.  On examining Bolo I found he had two very deep wounds on his chest, a tear three inches long in his groin and his hind leg and hock torn so badly that the bone was visible.    I was urged to have him destroyed but this I could not do.  The nearest vet lived eight miles away and there was no telephone, so with the kennel man I put twenty-three stitches into Bolo.  He was so good and lay perfectly still until it was all finished."

Once again Bolo became Lady Howe's patient.  He seemed to understand that he was safe from harm with her.  Field trials were out of the question that year, but the following fall he took a prize in his very first event.  Within the next few weeks he accomplished the impossible by winning two first places and becoming a champion.  He fared equally well on the show bench and became the first Labrador to earn the title of Dual Champion.

In the Labrador Stud Book, C. Mackay Sanderson records that this line started forty years earlier with Malmesbury's Tramp and culminated in Banchory Bolo.  But forty years is only the recorded period; unrecorded, the line goes back via Malmesbury at Heron Court for a little over a century on British soil. (End of Wolter's article)

As previously noted, Bolo tended to throw a trait of having white hairs on the bottom of the paws which became known as Bolo Pads.  You can still find markings on today's Labradors which undoubtedly trace to Bolo.  He also is a key dog in tracing the transmission of the recessive chocolate color gene to today's Labrador Retrievers.  Bolo is not unique to just the chocolate Labrador.  He was a very notable Lab of his time and much sought after as the first Lab to be both bench and field.  Most Labs that can trace their ancestry back far enough are likely to find both Bolo as well as his ancestor Buccleuch Avon.  Photos of the pads.