Daddy always loved animals, especially dogs.  There were always three or four hunting hounds of one breed or another around the farm.  He had Blueticks, Redbones, Treeing Walkers and even Plotts at one time or another.  When he saw the Black and Tan Coonhound all other breeds paled in comparison.  He was so impressed by the breed that he became totally dedicated to the Black and Tan and soon was one of the foremost authorities and promoters of the breed.  His breeding program and the dogs it produced had a profound influence on the breed, as we know it today.  Pedigrees of the 60's, 70's, and 80's read like a who's-who of St. John bred dogs.  A St. John dog could be picked out of a crowd because of its distinctive "trademarks", most noticeable, they almost all bore a cowlick.  Also there was an unmistakable shape of the head and large, tight feet.  The tan had to be dark mahogany and the coat short and shiny.

While Daddy and his dogs were making a reputation in the hunting world and the AKC show ring, my mother, Janice St. John, was going about the business of being the "good woman behind the man".  Mother kept the records, worked up pedigrees, answered correspondence and did the million other things it took to run a large kennel.  Daddy was intent on improving the breed and he only mated the best sire to the best dam and then ruthlessly culled the litter.  I asked him why he did that and he replied, " You keep the best.  Destroy the rest.  If it was a bad breeding, you won't perpetuate a fault."  He always said he bred only two qualities of dogs- best and better.

Like all breeders of his era he did not OFA his dogs.  He believed that any dog that could run like the wind through the woods did not have bad hips.  One day, a young man came to the farm to buy a dog.  He did not ask the usual questions one would expect but asked if the dogs had been OFA'd.  Daddy looked at him as only Daddy could, and said, "Well, no, but they have been hupped."  The man said, "What do you mean?"  Daddy said, "I'll show you."  He took a dog out of a pen, went to his truck, dropped the tailgate, and said to the dog, "Hup it." And the dog jumped into the truck.  Daddy said, "Any dog that can't hup the truck, won't live to eat my food.  (Hup is a southern word, a combination of hurry and get up).

Robert St. John was many things and other people remember him in many ways.  To me, he was the kindest, most gentle man I ever knew.  He was a farmer, an animal lover, a family man, and a 33rd degree Mason. But most important, he was my Daddy and I still love him very much!