What is a Saluki?

By *Peter B. Brown

(Reprinted from the Southern Illinois University Carbondale 1968 Basketball Yearbook)

Princeton has its Tiger; B.C. has its Eagle.
Rutgers is the Queensman, a title truly regal.
But from frigid New York City to Kentucky’s old Paduchee
There’s just one burning question — What the hell is a Saluki?

That’s what Jerry Isenburg of the Newark Star-Ledger wanted to know when Walt Frazier Clarence Smith, Dick Garrett and Co. loped into Madison Square Garden to play basketball in March 1967. He was only reacting like a few million other buffs who have been brainwashed all their lives by an association between sports prowess and such wildlife as Eagles, Tigers, Lions, Buffalo, Warthogs, etc.

We all know what a Saluki is, of course. But someone, even now, may be sitting in a Newark dentist’s office with this magazine in hand, and he may not know what the hell a Saluki is. Thus, this primer.

The Saluki, or “El Hor”

Origin and Upbringing — Salukis definitely were around as early as 3500 B.C. because there are pictures of them on the walls of 5,467-year-old Egyptian tombs. Nothing else in the world looks exactly like a Saluki, so there’s no mistake about this. Actually, they may date back to Jericho, circa 6500 B.C. Fanciers of the breed contend that the real reason Joshua fit de battle there was to get his lunch hooks on a couple of fine rabbit hounds.

At any rate, no one has yet to come forward to challenge the Saluki’s claim as the oldest pure breed of canine that is friend to man.

The ancient Arabs love him and so did most of the youngsters, who were called ‘whippet-snappers.’ They worshiped him, mummified him, carved his relief on things, and wrote odes about him. Odes better than Isenburg’s we dare say. All over the Middle East Salukis are prized as much as air-conditioned Cadillacs.
So they named him “El Hor” — the Noble One.

Ability — Why is the Saluki so prized? Because he can hunt, baby, and let that not be forgotten. He can hunt anything, in all likelihood, but his Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Iraqi etc. handlers have always preferred chasing desert gazelles. That’s what they trained Salukis for.

Desert gazelles are rated at better than 1:10 for a mile, flat out, but a Saluki will burn one every time.
He hunts mainly by eyesight, which is this case is super keen. His teammate on the hunt is a trained falcon. The bird wheels into the blue and runs post-patterns until he spots a likely gazelle, and then he tracks him on the wing.

Keeping on eye on his spotter and another on the terrain — for stumps, abandoned halftracks and the like — the Saluki peels off, burning toenail. He is at speed very shortly. What he does when he overtakes that speeding gazelle is frightful to contemplate.

For some reason, desert gazelles are almost extinct now and many Salukis have had to resort to weaker scheduling just to stay in shape. People who know, however, say that given proper coaching Salukis could hunt everything from quails to bears and finish well above .500.

One more word about speed. No one has ever put an accurate clock on the Saluki because he tends to cut and slant a lot when on the move. But he is conceded to be the fastest dog of all time and at 45 m.p.h., who’s to argue?

Appearance — The late Tom Morrow, Chicago Tribune columnist, visited the SIUC campus about ten years ago and came face to face with the school’s stablemate mascots, Ornah Farouk and Burydown Datis.
He wrote: “it is only fair to report that the Saluki is, in appearance, a cross between a greyhound, the seventh week of a bad famine, a wolfhound, and a goateed barber in the first chair in Far Foot Junction.”

That about does it except to add that females run a foot and a half to two feet tall and weigh 45-55 pounds. The male will go four or five inches taller and ten pounds heavier. To look at one you would never dream they weigh that much. Eastern sportswriters were amazed by this fact.

Misconceptions — There are a number of bum-dope items abroad concerning the Saluki, not the least of which is the spelling of its name. Any Arab knows that it should be “saluqi” or “silaquah,” depending on whether you are talking about a he or a she. When there are more than one, they are properly called “sulquan” or “salaq.” A group of mixed genders is called 'alumni.'

… Some say Salukis have nervous stomachs. They probably get this idea from watching Salukis at football games, where they appear to show little interest in the carnage about them.

Actually, analysis of stomach contents in your average Saudi Arabian saluqi, or silaquah, would probably turn up some dates, complete with stones, a few dollops of camel’s milk, and perhaps a fresh-caught hare or desert rat. Try that on lassie and see if she calls the forest ranger.

What is it with SIUC and Salukis — Back in 1951, students and fans finally decided they’d had it with the SIUC nickname, “Maroons.” It lacked something. What does a maroon look like? Who knows what it eats? Try writing an ode about it.

They voted for a change, but the only suggestions that turned up in the ballot box were things like Knights, Marauders, Rebels, Egyptians, and a few Eagles. It was no decision.

Merle Jones, Southern Illinoisan sports editor, credited five SIUC coaches with nominating the Saluki as the school’s new mascot. They were Abe Martin, Doc Lingle, Lynne Holder, Bill Waller, and Cecil Franklin. Merle quoted Lingle on as sharp a piece of prophecy as you'll ever hear.

“Imagine the interest such a name would create when our athletic teams travel,” Doc said back in 1951. “Nearly everybody would wonder about that name and ask questions. The novelty of it would be a talking point.”

Mirabile dictu: see Fred Huff’s several bales of March press clippings as proof of doc’s perspicacity and that of the students who voted for “El Hor.”

So let us conclude with a bit of doggerel in response to the prologue:

Old Duke has its Devils Blue; St. Louis plays its Bills.
Texas Western digs the Miners like there’s gold in them thar hills.
But from Loo’ville on the bluegrass to St. Peter’s on the bogs,
The scene was bad last winter; they all went to the Dogs.