Erskine Lott Bedford, MFH (1933 -
1998) In December, the hunting world lost the
man referred to by many as "the best Field Master in
America," Erskine Bedford, MFH of the Piedmont Fox Hounds
(VA). To me, he was "Dad."
By Cricket Whitner
Covertside : Masters of Foxhounds Association (March, 1999)
Gerry Newman, longtime honorary whipper-in for Piedmont,
comforted me with a thought that has stuck in my mind and
helps to make his death easier to understand. Gerry felt
that December 6th seemed predestined, as if it had been
written just for Erskine: a perfect bright day with a bit of
a chill, a fox that struck right from the meet like a bolt,
a run like no other with hounds flying in full cry And that
Dad went to heaven with his horse was only fitting.
Dad came from a long line of not only foxhunters, but true
horsemen. His mother and father, Louise and Dean Bedford,
were renowned sportsmen, having helped bring the Pony Club
over from England to establish the United States Pony Club.
He was exposed to foxhunting and beagling at an early age.
Dean Bedford started the Pemberton Beagles, a private pack,
and was a Joint-Master of the Harford Hunt in the 1930s.
Both parents were Joint-Masters of the merged
Elkridge-Harford Hunt after the war.
Dad became Joint-Master of Piedmont in 1979, encouraged by a
woman whom he held as his mentor Mrs. A.C. (Theodora)
Randolph. Mrs. Randolph was MFH of the Piedmont from 1954
until her death in 1996. The "Kingfish," as he
affectionately called her, helped to give him the
confi-dence to go forward as a Field Master and the drive to
want to perfect the art of leading the field.
Many books and articles on huntsmen have depicted the art of
breeding and hunting hounds, but I do not know anyone who
achieved such a level of understanding as Dad on how to
"lead a field." He had an incredible knack for juggling both
the entertainment side of foxhunting for the fieldmembers
and the strategic side - the true reason for being there -
for the huntsman, staff and hounds. It was through listening
to him speak and reading interviews that I, like most
others, began to realize the depth of his thinking while out
in the field. See Covertside, September 1996, "Leading the
Field: Know Your Country and Make It Fun" by Erskine
Bedford, MFH.] While most of us were wrestling with our
mounts and hoping to be at the front to catch the best view;
he was always three steps ahead of us. He was calculating
the covert the hounds were drawing, the scent and wind and
where huntsman and staff were moving.
From there, he would determine his distance, speed, and in
which direction he might take us, knowing if a gate or a
panel was ahead, and noting who was nearby to help if help
were needed. And he would retain in his mind, like a
computer, every detail of the day, each covert, each field,
each panel. Many thousands of minutes have I sat on the
phone listening to him recount a day I had missed, never
admitting to him that he had lost me by the tenth jump.
I wish I had asked him a thousand more questions. For
instance, I wish he'd explained in more detail his ideas
that taking a field was like driving an extra long tractor
trailer, or how he would place his field on a hillside so
that he was below with the field higher to see hounds work,
or how he asked his members at the front to mind his flanks
so he could turn quickly, and lots, lots more.
Yet he covered his hidden intensity with his wonderful
smile, mischievous blue eyes and constant joking. When
called to the front, you would worry about what kind of a
hard time you were going to get from him. I remember a joint
meet with Green Spring Valley We were coming to a place
which is a true favorite of mine across one of Mr. Mellon's
Rokeby Farm driveways with stacked 3'6" chestnut rail fences
on either side. I was thrilled as my little hunter cleared
them well, and especially as I had jumped head-to-head with
Jack Fisher - Mr. Hunt Cup / Gold Cup himself - who did not
have such a good flight over these obstacles. Dad summoned
me to the front to ask quietly who had made all the racket.
As mischievous as he, I told him it was none other than Mr.
Fisher. He asked me to send Jack to the front only so he
could "have fun with him," loudly thanking him for com-ing
down for the day but could he please respect Mr. Mellon's
fences?
I do not envy those who must step into his place now;
because I can better appreciate how big his role was to the
whole work-ings of the Hunt. I know if he were able to tell
us, he would encourage all future Field Masters to always
clear your own country and your own trails. It's the only
way to get to know it." I know he would never want me to
dwell on his absence. He would tell me to concentrate and
learn where I am at all times in the field, be gracious to
everyone and be sure to have fun.... And then come back to
his grave and tell him exactly where we went, field by
field, panel by panel.