As a horse, Shergar had it pretty good. He’d earned his place in the sun. The Irish racehorse, a bay colt with a distinctive white blaze, won the Epsom Derby in 1981 by ten lengths— the longest winning margin in the race’s history. He was named European Horse of the Year that year and was retired from racing in September after winning £436,000 in prize money for his owners.
A month later, Shergar arrived in Newbridge, greeted by the town band and cheering, flag-waving throngs as he paraded up main street on his way to begin his stud career. It was another successful career for Shergar who produced 35 foals that season. His second season was looking good as well, with 55 mares on hand.
“A clue… that is what we haven’t got,” Chief Superintendent “Spud” Murphy told reporters shortly after the evening of February 8, 1983, when Shergar disappeared. Sherlock Holmes fans might by forgiven if they start claiming this scenario is right out of the great detective’s adventure, Silver Blaze. Perhaps the perpetrators read Arthur Conan Doyle.
In any event, at 8.30 pm, Shergar’s groom, James Fitzgerald thought he heard a car in the yard. He listened, heard nothing more, and forgot about it. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and his son answered it. The uniformed caller asked the boy to fetch his father, but when he turned his back, the visitor hit him from behind, knocking him to the floor. Fitzgerald entered the room to see a pistol pointed at him. Three more armed men, one carrying a sub-machine gun, pushed their way into the house. They held the family at gunpoint while Fitzgerald led two more thieves to Shergar’s stall. Fitzgerald was forced to help the thieves load Shergar into a horse trailer, and the horse was towed away. Fitzgerald was driven around in another vehicle for several hours before being thrown out of the car having been given a password the thieves would use in ransom negotiations.
The investigation and the negotiations were a lesson in ineptitude on all sides, featuring detection by psychics and diviners, demands, counter demands, botched meetings, all amid rumors that the horse was already dead or that the owners were only negotiating to buy time with no intention of paying ransom.
Whatever the truth, after four days the thieves called no more. Officials blamed the Irish Republican Army for the crime. Shergar has never been found. Sherlock Holmes fared better with Silver Blaze. Unfortunately, he was no longer available.
These Guys Would Have Been Prepared
William D. Boyce was an American newspaper man, entrepreneur, publisher and a bit of an explorer. In 1909, Boyce happened to be exploring the streets of London. It was, as they say, a foggy day in London town. It may not have had him low, had him down, but it did have him lost, or so the legend goes.
As he wandered through the pea soup, haunted by thoughts of Jack the Ripper perhaps, a young lad stepped out of the haze and led him to his destination. Boyce tried to reward they boy who had come to his aid, but the boy would not accept a tip, explaining that he had merely done his duty as a Boy Scout.
The Boy Scout departed, off to help another poor soul lost in the fog, and Boyce returned to the United States, but not before he had visited London’s Boy Scout headquarters, where he immersed himself in scouting lore, starting campfires, tying knots.
Four months later on February 8, 1910, Boyce trustworthily, loyally, helpfully, friendlily, courteously, kindly, obediently, cheerfully, thriftily, bravely, cleanly and reverently founded the Boy Scouts of America.
A Clever Segue
“So here we are, stuck on Gilligan’s Island – Chickenshit Crusoe and his faithless companion, Good Friday.”
“I was a Boy Scout for two weeks,” Paul offered.
“What a relief. And to think I was starting to get worried. But you obviously know how to start a fire without matches, forage for food, and carve a comfortable existence out of the cruel jungle.”
“Well I did learn how to tie a square knot.”
“Well there you are. You little rascals are always prepared, aren’t you? And kind and reverent and true and God-fearing and above all helpful. If we only had a little old lady, you could help her back and forth across the beach.”
A brief bit from Voodoo Love Song, fun and adventure for you good little scouts, boy or girl, while you’re being prepared. You can find it here.
Wretched Richard's Almanac 
Your narrative presents a captivating blend of historical anecdotes, mystery, and humor, each story imbued with its own unique charm and intrigue. The tale of Shergar’s disappearance reads like a classic mystery novel, with elements that echo the suspense and drama of Sherlock Holmes’ adventures, offering readers a real-world enigma that remains unsolved. The transition to William D. Boyce’s inspiration from a Boy Scout in London to founding the Boy Scouts of America highlights an interesting historical moment, encapsulating the spirit of exploration and civic duty.
The clever segue into a snippet from “Voodoo Love Song” ties these disparate threads together with a touch of humor and wit, showcasing your skill in weaving together stories that span from true historical events to fictional adventures. Your ability to draw connections between these moments and the themes of preparedness, duty, and adventure they embody, creates a rich tapestry for readers to explore.
It’s fascinating how you’ve managed to link such diverse narratives, each reflecting on the idea of being prepared in its own way, whether facing the unknown, undertaking new ventures, or navigating the challenges of survival in a humorous context.
What inspired you to bring these particular stories together, and how do you see the theme of preparedness playing out in our contemporary world?
Thank you Justin for that rather overwhelming review. I’ve never been accused of creating a rich tapestry before. I guess it’s what you do when you can’t tie a knot. Prepared? Never. Have a couple of glasses of wine and a Snickers bar for me, and please stop by again.
Oh Willll burrrr!
Then there were all those arguments we had as kids. Who is better Mr. Ed or Francis the Talking Mule?
We never argued about Mr. Ed and Francis the talking mule.
Everyone knows Mr. Ed could beat Francis by a furlong!