Alf would often recall those days. ‘My overwhelming ambition was to work for one man – J. A. Wight. Much as I liked Donald, I needed more security. I was simply working myself to the bone and filling his pockets.’ In January 1944, he approached Donald with a view to acquiring a full partnership. Donald, although having a genuine affection and respect for his younger colleague, had no intention of relinquishing undisputed control over his practice, and Alf’s request was flatly refused.
Alf found he had easily re-established himself in the practice, and felt that he could have enjoyed a long and happy future in Thirsk; he liked the farmers with their hard and honest approach to life, and he got on well with his senior partner, despite his unpredictable ways. Desperately disappointed at Donald’s rejection, he began to consider his options.
He would not attempt to establish a business in opposition to Donald; not only did he regard him as a friend but his contract as a salaried partner precluded such a move within a radius of ten miles of Thirsk. He discussed the situation with Joan who, although not wanting to leave a town that had been her home for so many years, was fully prepared to go where her husband could find security which, for a man in his perilous financial position, was of paramount importance. He had no alternative but to begin to look elsewhere.
Many conflicting opinions about Donald Sinclair have been expressed over the years. Articles have been written accusing Alfred Wight of being too hard on Donald, claiming that his portrayal of Donald as Siegfried Farnon was unfair and that he was not simply an eccentric and unusual man, but one full of fine qualities – ones that the books failed to convey. Others, however, have hinted that James Herriot was much too kind towards the character of Siegfried, saying that the real Donald severely exploited his younger partner throughout his professional career.
The truth lies somewhere in between. Above all, Donald was a humorous and warm personality, someone whom it was utterly impossible to dislike and there is no doubt that James Herriot portrayed him as such. The fan mail that Alf received over the years substantiates this; to millions of readers, Siegfried Farnon is a most engaging and fascinating man. In this respect, James Herriot’s readers have not been misled, but Alf hid the other side of his partner from his fans. Donald may have been a most interesting and entertaining person but he was also one of the most difficult, with many being of the opinion that the partnership survived thanks only to the patience and good nature of Alfred Wight.
Regular work was something to which Donald would never submit. He was not a lazy man – in fact, he was on the go all the time – but his erratic personality dictated that he could not discipline himself to work regular hours. In the early years when there were only the two of them in the practice, Alf worked almost every night, Donald looking after night duties only when his partner was away on his short and infrequent holidays. The constant and tiring grind of veterinary practice was not for Donald Sinclair.
This fact was only discussed among his close associates and, in his later years, my father used to amuse us with his memories of Donald’s reluctance to work. ‘There is a subtle difference in our approach to night work between Donald and myself,’ he told me, many years ago. ‘I dislike night work, but I do it. He loves it, but he doesn’t do it!’
Donald regularly told me how much he, himself, loved out-of-hours work and often he would reprimand me gently should I be a little short-tempered in the morning following a night of feverish activity on some farm while everyone else, including Donald, was asleep. ‘You should count your blessings, Jim,’ he would say to me patiently. ‘It’s a privilege to get up in the early hours on a summer morning and drive around this beautiful countryside. It’s like a holiday with pay!’ Strangely, he very rarely enjoyed this attractive aspect of the veterinary surgeon’s life.
‘Call out the boys!’ was a cry we often heard. Such was his pride in our provision of a prompt twenty-four-hour service, he would repeatedly inform our clients, ‘If you have any doubts, do not hesitate to telephone. Day or night, call out the boys!’
The ‘boys’, of whom I was one, did not advertise their services with quite the same enthusiasm. Over the twenty-five years that I worked with Donald, I never saw him perform any night duties at all, save during one period in the mid 1970s. He decided then, for some inexplicable reason and at the age of well over sixty, to begin regular visits to farms at night – something he had neverdone previously. Was this because he was feeling a little guilty? I do not think so. I am sure it was just another example of his unique and unpredictable personality.
Donald’s avoidance of regular work throughout his professional life has been a source of great amusement, not only for Alf Wight, but for the many young veterinary surgeons who worked in our practice. A gentle smile would always crease my father’s face whenever he produced the classic phrase which summarised his partner’s attitude perfectly. ‘Willing to work … but won’t!’
Alf not only worked harder in the practice than his partner, he shouldered almost all the responsibilities of running it. He had no one to share this burden as Donald steadfastly declined to take on any additional partners. Many young veterinary surgeons sought partnerships in Thirsk but all were refused, myself included. Donald did not want the hassle of partnerships, considering them a potential source of bad feeling within the practice. There may be some truth in this, but it also resulted in the practice of Sinclair and Wight lacking any real stability, with the paying customers having to keep adjusting to a long procession of different veterinary assistants driving on to their farms.
James Herriot was very loyal in the portrayal of his partner in the books, revealing little of the difficult side to his character but, in fairness to Donald, his many good qualities would always far outweigh his less appealing ones.
When I was refused a full partnership in 1976, I did not worry too much. I had some security – knowing that, one day, I would inherit my father’s share – but for him, back in 1944, the situation was very different.
At the time Alf was not short of offers. He was in regular touch with his first employer, Jock McDowall in Sunderland, while he saw a great deal of Frank Bingham in Leyburn during the course of his work. Not only did both men, having heard of Alf’s dissatisfaction with his situation in Thirsk, express their interest in his joining them, but his old Glasgow college friend, Eddie Straiton, who was building up a large practice in Staffordshire, wrote to Alf as early as November 1943 suggesting the possibility of a partnership.
In February 1944, Alf visited Stafford to have a look round and he liked what he saw. Eddie was well organised and his practice was booming, with a busy small animal branch as well as the large animal work. There were cows everywhere; Staffordshire, with its endless green fields full of bovines, was exactly what Alf was looking for. He returned to Thirsk to think things over and discuss a possible move with Joan. There was no urgency to join Eddie straight away, which suited Alf as he wanted time to consider; a big decision lay ahead. Staffordshire, although an attractive county, could not take the place of Yorkshire in Alfred Wight’s heart; he desperately wanted to remain in the county that he loved. Over the next few months, he could think of little else but his future. In the rare time off that he had, he visited other parts of the country where there were opportunities to set up in practice.
One place he visited was Whitby on the Yorkshire coast. As there was no veterinary surgeon there at that time, Alf considered it had potential. One afternoon, he stood on the high ground near Whitby Abbey and looked out to sea. As he watched the waves crashing onto the shore, with a bitter north-east wind slamming into his face, he thought to himself, ‘It can be cold in Thirsk, but this is something else!’ He looked out to sea again before turning round in a full circle. Another thought struck him: There’s only half a practice here!’ No money was to be made out of the North Sea, and Whitby was crossed off the list.