In February 1966, LIFE magazine published a story that shook the country. Titled “Concentration Camps for Dogs,” the article exposed a nationwide network of dealers who bought, sold, and warehoused dogs for medical research laboratories. Many of those dogs were not strays — they were stolen family pets.

Thieves drove through residential neighborhoods and snatched dogs from yards and sidewalks. This practice was known as “dognapping.” A stolen pet was typically sold to a “Class B” dealer for a few dollars. The dealers then packed the animals into crowded pens alongside stray dogs, waiting until they had enough to fill a bulk order for a laboratory. A healthy dog sold to a lab for roughly fifteen to twenty dollars, and because dealers spent almost nothing on care, every sale was nearly pure profit.
![This woebegone springer spaniel was one of only a handful of dogs in [dog dealer Lester] Brown's inventory of over 100 animals that appeared to be fit. Obviously he had just got there.](https://www.bygonely.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Dogs_Concentration_Camps_1966_2.jpg)
Photographer Stan Wayman visited several of these operations to document the conditions firsthand. One of the most notorious was a farm in White Hall, Maryland, run by a dealer named Lester Brown. What Wayman found there was severe. Over 100 dogs lived in filth and bitter cold. Their ribs showed through their fur. Most had no clean water and no place to sleep except frozen ground.

![Skin and bones and not much else is all that is left of this young beagle, staked out in [dog dealer Lester] Brown's yard. Beagles are rated by most dog dealers as a 'hot item.'](https://www.bygonely.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Dogs_Concentration_Camps_1966_4.jpg)
Dogs went days without food. When they were fed, it was the cheapest available scraps — sometimes frozen animal entrails scattered across the yard. Beagles were considered a “hot item” among dealers because research labs preferred them. Many animals suffered from untreated injuries and disease.


During the raid on Brown’s compound, authorities made a grim discovery inside one of the wooden boxes on the property.


Brown’s property was a maze of sheds, junked cars, and lumber. Inside those sheds, the crowding extended beyond dogs — pigeons and other animals were crammed into filthy coops. The only food visible in one shed was a pile of stale bread sitting in a washtub.
![In a shed behind [dog dealer Lester] Brown's house, dogs, pigeons and other creatures were jammed into filthy coops. The only food in sight was the stale bread piled in a washtub.](https://www.bygonely.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Dogs_Concentration_Camps_1966_9.jpg)


Some stolen pets were eventually identified at the laboratories that purchased them. Reds, a one-year-old Irish setter, vanished from her Philadelphia neighborhood and ended up at a New York hospital. A doctor there recognized her as a stolen pet and contacted an animal welfare group.

Lucky, the English pointer rescued from an Oklahoma fair, was among the dogs that recovered after being pulled from these conditions.

When humane society workers raided Brown’s compound, they could only fit 28 of the worst cases into their truck. Dozens of animals were left behind.

Communities hit hard by dognapping fought back in their own ways. In Clarke County, Virginia, where pets had been disappearing regularly, residents put up signs in their neighborhoods to warn off thieves.

The theft networks operated with alarming boldness. In Boyce, Virginia, G. R. Lloyd’s purebred English setter Tiny had her chain cut in the backyard. Lloyd tracked her to a local pound — only to be told she had already been stolen again before he could reclaim her.

Not every story ended in tragedy. Lancer, a family dog from Newton, Massachusetts, was impounded and sold to Harvard Medical School after being picked up one morning. During a transfer, he chewed through his leash and ran more than 20 miles home — still wearing his Harvard tag when he arrived.






