Best Friends Animal Society Announces the Passing of Beloved Co-Founder and Former CEO Gregory Castle
Imagery:
https://bestfriends.widen.net/s/bfzwnwpk98/diorgregorycastle5074mw
KANAB, Utah, May 20, 2025 /PRNewswire/ -- It is with profound sadness that Best Friends Animal Society announces the loss of co-founder and former CEO, Gregory Castle, who passed away suddenly on Saturday, May 17, 2025, from natural causes.
Gregory, along with 26 co-founders established Best Friends in 1984 when they broke ground for Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, now the country's largest no-kill animal sanctuary and headquarters for the national animal welfare organization. As CEO from 2009 to 2018, he helped grow Best Friends into the leading national organization working to save dogs and cats in U.S. shelters and to make the entire country no-kill.
Best Friends board president and co-founder Francis Battista said:
'Gregory embodied the ethics of compassion and service. He devoted his entire adult life to helping animals and to making the world a better place. Losing Gregory is devastating, but his legacy of kindness and his commitment to the animals will live on through the work of Best Friends Animal Society.'
Born in Cranbrook, England, in 1942, Gregory graduated from Cambridge University with a master's in philosophy and psychology, and a passion for filmmaking. While at Cambridge he was a member of the venerable Cambridge Footlights, one of Britain's oldest student sketch comedy troupes that produced some of the biggest names in British film and theater.
He spent his childhood in Folkestone, England, a coastal access point during World War II that endured numerous bombings and air raids and served as a major landing spot for the Dunkirk evacuation. His father, Norman Castle, was a civil engineer for the British army who remained in Folkestone during the war while the rest of the town was evacuated. Gregory's mother was among those who relocated to safety and Gregory was subsequently born in a country house in Cranbrook. His father was later awarded with one of Britain's highest honors, an Order of the British Empire, for his heroic work in Folkestone during the war.
Gregory spent the last 41 years in Utah, serving in a variety of roles at Best Friends. In the early days of the Sanctuary, Gregory installed the original water lines and electricity across 3,000 acres of high desert land, guided only by a set of DIY books.
In 2000, along with his wife Julie, he started No More Homeless Pets in Utah, which evolved into No-Kill Utah (NKUT), a statewide coalition of animal welfare organizations, veterinarians and animal lovers collaborating to deliver low cost spay/neuter services, proactive shelter adoptions and public awareness campaigns to put Utah on the path to no-kill. The coalition became a model for cooperative efforts in the humane community throughout the country.
Gregory played the bagpipes, flew airplanes and was an avid runner who completed 17 marathons over a 20-year period, including three Boston Marathons. At 73 years of age, he became the oldest person at the time to ever have completed the grueling seven-day Grand to Grand Ultra, which takes runners across 170 miles of Utah's back country.
Gregory was 83 years old. He is survived by his wife Julie; his daughter Carragh Maloney; his granddaughter Zoe Glover, his brother Christopher Castle; sisters Jan Castle and Susan Duys, cats Ellie and Maggie, and dogs Sunny and Marley. His legacy will live on through a large and dedicated national community of animal lovers working to save the lives of homeless pets. He will be deeply missed.
About Best Friends Animal Society
Best Friends Animal Society is a leading animal welfare organization dedicated to saving the lives of dogs and cats in America's shelters and making the entire country no-kill. Founded in 1984, Best Friends runs lifesaving facilities and programs nationwide in partnership with more than 5,000 shelters and rescue organizations. From our headquarters in Kanab, Utah, we also operate the nation's largest no-kill animal sanctuary — a destination that brings our mission to life for thousands of visitors each year. We maintain the most comprehensive animal sheltering data in the country and make it accessible to the public — empowering communities with critical insights into the needs of their local shelters and how they can help. We believe every dog and cat deserves a home. And we believe that, by working together, we can Save Them All®.
View original content to download multimedia: https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/best-friends-animal-society-announces-the-passing-of-beloved-co-founder-and-former-ceo-gregory-castle-302460021.html
SOURCE Best Friends Animal Society
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Eater
17 hours ago
- Eater
Bill Elwell, Legendary Owner of Los Angeles Roadside Stand Bill's Burgers, Dies at 98
Bill Elwell, the owner of legendary San Fernando Valley burger stand Bill's Burgers, died on July 21 at 98 years old. Even late into his 90s, Elwell could be seen manning the flattop grill at his Van Nuys (eventually rezoned to Sherman Oaks) burger stand, flipping chargrilled patties as the line stretched away from its ordering window, down Oxnard Street. Elwell was born in 1926 and raised in the west Ventura neighborhood of Tortilla Flats. Before opening Bill's Burgers, he was in the Army during World War II, worked as a late-night taxi driver, and was a manager at Mission Linen Company. In 1965, Elwell purchased the burger stand that would become Bill's Burgers, which sat on the plot right next door to his job at the time. For the nearly six decades following, Elwell was constantly at the burger stand, serving well-seasoned patties topped with American cheese, iceberg lettuce, freshly sliced tomatoes, pickles, ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise. The flatop grill, still in use at the stand, dates back to the 1920s or 1930s. Elwell sourced the meat locally from Northridge, and it was ground fresh every morning. Legend has it that he was even spotted eating the patties raw if customers complained about them not being cooked enough. A line on the top of the menu read, 'You can't have it your way, this is not Burger King,' adding to the stand's dry humor. For some time, Elwell ran the stand as Bill & Hiroko's with his now ex-wife, Hiroko Wilcox, whom he met at a bowling alley decades ago. In a 2014 Los Angeles Times article, Elwell mentioned that another of his five ex-wives, Sharon Elwell, still came to the stand to help out a few times a week. At some point, Elwell renamed the stand back to Bill's Burgers, where it weathered the COVID-19 pandemic, and Elwell was still in the back flipping burgers. In July 2020, Elwell attempted to sell the business, but no sale ever materialized. As burger trends came and went in Los Angeles, from the crispy-edged smash burgers to thick bistro burgers, Bill's remained the same — a testament to Elwell himself and his longtime customers who kept coming back. In recent years, Elwell's age and consistent ownership have become a story in their own right. Eater LA conducted the first-ever interview on the burger man in 2013 at the age of 86. Over a decade later, virtually nothing had changed in the cash-only business except for the prices, even in the face of rising inflation. In 2011, a basic cheeseburger cost $3.35; by 2018, it had increased to $4.20, and by May 2025, it had risen to just $7. Though often gruff and other times grumpy, Elwell's straightforward persona as perhaps the oldest living burger cook in the country continued without greater coverage from national media. 'Whichever way I make the burger, that's the best way,' Elwell told Eater LA in 2013. 'But I like when people get double cheeseburgers with everything. That's what I'm famous for, I think.' Elwell is survived by his son James Elwell (Valerie) and daughter Charlene Morris, along with his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and several nieces and nephews. A cheeseburger from BIll's Burgers in Los Angeles. Farley Elliott Eater LA All your essential food and restaurant intel delivered to you Email (required) Sign Up By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Notice . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.
Newsweek
20 hours ago
- Newsweek
Number of International Adoptions in U.S. Plummets
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. International adoptions to the United States have fallen to a record low, marking a 94 percent decline since their peak in the early 2000s. 2023 was the lowest year for international adoptions, according to the Pew Research Center's analysis based on U.S. State Department data. Why it Matters The collapse in international adoptions represents a significant shift in how children without parental care are placed and cared for worldwide. While once considered a humanitarian solution, foreign adoptions are now more tightly regulated under international frameworks like the 1993 Hague Convention, which emphasizes a child's right to remain in their country of origin where possible. For example, Russia barred Americans from adopting Russian children in 2013 and expanded those restrictions to the rest of the world in 2024. Ethiopia stopped allowing foreign adoptions in 2018, China banned them in 2024 and South Korea announced plans this year to end all private international adoptions following a probe into irregularities. Guatemala halted international adoptions in 2008 amid allegations of child trafficking. What To Know The peak of foreign adoptions was in 2004, when almost 23,000 foreign-born children joined U.S. families via adoption. The number fell to just 1,275 adoptions in 2023, according to U.S. State Department data. International adoptions have declined yearly since 2004, mirroring similar falls in countries such as Canada, France, Italy, and Spain. This is largely because the countries that historically represented the largest sources of adoptee—China, Russia, Guatemala, South Korea and Ethiopia—have taken steps to limit international adoptions. China accounted for 29 percent of all adoptions since 1999, Russia accounted for 16 percent, Guatemala 10 percent, South Korea 8 percent and Ethiopia 6 percent. The decline is not isolated to the U.S.; major adoption countries across Europe and North America are also seeing dramatic drops. France, for instance, saw international adoptions plummet 97 percent from 2004 to 2024. Rising costs and bureaucracy are also factors. The cost of international adoption jumped from a median of $6,000 in 2008 to over $30,000 in 2018, according to the Institute for Family Studies. What People Are Saying The Head of International Surrogacy and Adoption and Wilson Solicitors LLP, Amna Khaliq, told British newspaper in 2020: "Not all countries are open for adoption. You will have countries which either prevent adoption from happening overseas or are not on the UK's list of countries where they will allow adoptions to take place due to the concerns about the processes of the country." American conservative commentator and author Naomi Schaefer Riley wrote for an essay on the topic in 2020: "The bureaucratic headaches and expenses have multiplied... Given the difficulties and costs of international adoption, agencies... have decided to cease their international adoption programs." File photo of a five-month baby girl looking at a globe, taken in Connecticut, in September 2015. File photo of a five-month baby girl looking at a globe, taken in Connecticut, in September 2015. AP Celebrity Adoptions: Changing Narratives High-profile celebrity adoptions drew public attention to international adoption's possibilities and challenges. Pop icon Madonna became the subject of extensive media coverage due to her adoption of children from Malawi, highlighting both the visibility and controversy surrounding international adoptions. Critics raised questions about whether celebrities received special treatment or skirted laws intended to protect children, and governments were sometimes pressured to scrutinize or restrict foreign adoptions more closely. What Happens Next International adoptions to the U.S. are likely to remain low as more countries restrict foreign adoptions and domestic placements increase in many origin countries. Adoption agencies, such as Bethany Christian Services, have shifted focus to supporting children in their countries of birth or prioritizing domestic adoptions. Efforts to balance the need for ethical oversight with the desire to provide homes for children will continue to shape international adoption policy. Meanwhile, international surrogacy—a separate practice not regulated under the Hague Convention—is reportedly increasing, raising new legal and ethical questions, according to the Pew Research Center.
National Geographic
a day ago
- National Geographic
Charles Lindbergh was a Nazi puppet—and his famous flight was overrated. Here's why.
Charles Lindbergh standing in front of his plane, the Spirit of St. Louis, which he used on his transatlantic flight. Photograph by Bridgeman Images The aviator was so impressed by German propaganda that he grossly overestimated Hitler's airpower. I have to declare a personal stake that shapes my opinion as I write this story. It has its origins in 1940, 85 years ago this month. I was seven years old, living near London. I watched the choreography of a great battle underway, etched in vapor trails high above in the crisp blue sky of summer, the combat that became known as the Battle of Britain. I wasn't scared. I watched with the detached excitement of a child unaware of how perilous those days were for us. That understanding would come later, from my work as a journalist, spending years discovering how closely fought that famous victory was. Had that battle been lost it is doubtful that Britain, then alone as most of Western Europe fell to Hitler, could have survived, as it did, until Pearl Harbor made American intervention inevitable. As things have turned out, one of my most unsettling discoveries has been that a man long hailed as an American legend, Charles Lindbergh, worked avidly with the Germans to undermine the chances of a British victory. Much has long been known about Lindbergh's alliance with American fascists between 1939 and 1941, and particularly his speech in Des Moines, Iowa in September 1941, in which he blamed three groups—the Roosevelt administration, the British and the Jews—for pressing the nation to confront Hitler. Much less known is the role Lindbergh played in England during the 1930s as Hitler's useful idiot, spreading the idea that Nazi Germany had become an invincible air power. The first Nazi to spot and exploit Lindbergh as an effective agent of German disinformation was Hermann Goering, Hitler's deputy and head of his air force, the Luftwaffe. Goering recognized that Lindbergh's celebrity gave him oracular authority on aviation—whether justified or not. Portrait of Charles Lindbergh Photograph by The Stapleton Collection, Bridgeman Images A decade after Lindbergh's epic solo flight across the Atlantic, on October 16, 1937, the Nazis made their master move, allowing him into their secret test field at Rechlin, near the Baltic coast. Virtually all the Luftwaffe's future aircraft were revealed to him. Credulous and convinced that no other European power rivaled Germany in the air, Lindbergh thereafter became a powerful influence on the 'peace at any price' factions in Britain and France. Lindbergh had no background in military aviation, but when he spoke on the subject of anything with wings, a lot of important people listened. There were numerous reports of Lindbergh pressing his views on leading European politicians, some of whom found them unnerving and demoralizing. For example, the British military attaché in Paris, seeing how rattled the French were by Lindbergh's assessments, reported to London, '…the Fuhrer found a most convenient ambassador in Colonel Lindbergh.' Limited Time: Bonus Issue Offer Subscribe now and gift up to 4 bonus issues—starting at $34/year. Lindbergh's impact in Britain was equally effective. In a single meeting he could turn a stern patriot into an abject appeaser. In 1938 a highly influential Tory, Thomas Jones, noted in his diary that before listening to Lindbergh he had been for standing up against Hitler but: 'Since my talk with Lindbergh I've sided with those working for peace at any cost in humiliation, because of the picture of our relative unpreparedness in the air…' (How the Battle of Britain changed the war—and the world—forever) Lindbergh also had a willing ear in the American ambassador in London, Joseph Kennedy. In 1938 he told Kennedy that Germany was then able to produce 20,000 military airplanes a year and gave a dark prediction of likely British defeat in the air. (In October 1938 Goering, on behalf of Hitler, awarded Lindbergh the Service Cross of the German Eagle.) In fact, Lindbergh's numbers were absurdly inflated. They were, literally, being used by the Nazis as a force multiplier. Moreover, Lindbergh's propaganda had masked a systemic weakness in the organization of German aircraft production. It was far from being a model of Teutonic efficiency. Production was dispersed among many manufacturers competing for resources and slowed by supply chain bottlenecks. In contrast, British aircraft production was far more rigorously directed and resourced from a central command. Charles Lindbergh receiving the Service Cross of the German Eagle from Hermann Goering on behalf of Adolf Hitler Photograph by SZ Photo/Scherl, Bridgeman Images More crucially, Lindbergh had no inkling of a game-changing technical leap in the deployment of air power that the British pioneered, the world's most advanced radar-based early warning system. Incoming waves of bombers could be pinpointed and tracked before they reached the British coast. Their size, direction and altitude were precisely plotted on a map in a central operations room, enabling the Royal Air Force (R.A.F) to deploy its precious hundreds of advanced fighters and pilots sparingly in the most efficient and deadly way. Britain's 'finest hour' At the outbreak of war, in September 1939, Germany did have a clear lead in numbers: 2,893 available front-line airplanes versus 1,600 in Britain. But by July, 1940, when the Battle of Britain began, the difference had narrowed. Britain had 644 front-line fighters to 725 German (with their time over England critically limited by fuel). By the end of September, when the RAF's famous victory was achieved, they had 732 fighters available while the Luftwaffe was reduced to 438. Weeks before the battle in the air began, Britain's expeditionary army in France had been nearly wiped out, saved only by the evacuation at Dunkirk. Few foresaw that its air force, the most scientifically advanced of its forces, was actually capable of saving the day. But—a point mostly overlooked by historians—Prime Minister Winston Churchill, fighting off a last-ditch resistance by appeasers, made his confidence in the R.A.F's strengths the bulwark of his case for carrying on the war. (Searching for the remains of two early transatlantic pilots) This is testament to Churchill's remarkable openness, at the age of 65, to technical transformation: As a young man he had served in the army, and had then twice served as First Lord of the Admiralty, in 1911 and 1939, running the Royal Navy. But, as much as he loved Britain's imperial-scale navy, he understood in 1940, ahead of many others, that the island nation's last line of defense was now in the air. On June 18, 1940, in one of his greatest speeches, Churchill warned, 'The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us…if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age.' Yet, if Britain prevailed, the world would say, 'This was their finest hour.' The battle engaged remarkably low numbers of men in combat, only a few hundred on each side, almost like medieval knights, each alone in a cockpit. When it was over, Churchill made the indelible tribute to his airmen: 'Never in the history of human conflict have so many owed so much to so few.' Victory in the air ended any chance of Hitler carrying out Operation Sea Lion, his planned invasion of Britain. And it finally laid bare the pernicious extent of the disinformation spread by Lindbergh—swallowed whole by many, including Ambassador Kennedy. Even then, Kennedy, a hardened isolationist, had learned nothing. Unmoved by the victory, he said, 'The British have had it. They can't stop the Germans and the best thing for them is to learn to live with them.' (Charles Lindbergh's wife was a record-breaking aviator in her own right) It's important to note that Lindbergh's crossing of the Atlantic in 1927 was an act of superb airmanship—particularly of navigation—but it did nothing to advance the science of aviation. His airplane, the Spirit of St. Louis, was a one-off bespoke model built for only one purpose: for one man to safely cross the Atlantic. It was not in any way a precursor. The science necessary to carry passengers safely across any ocean was an American achievement, developed mainly in a wind tunnel at Caltech in California, where two companies, Boeing and Douglas, created the first twin-engine all-metal airliners. In fact, the need for a larger, twin-engine airplane to cross oceans was foretold by two British military aviators, Captain John Alcock and Lieutenant Arthur Whitten Brown, who were the first to actually fly across the Atlantic, 1,890 miles, from Newfoundland to Ireland, in 1919, in a converted World War I bomber. They landed, unheralded, in a field and came to rest, nose down, in a bog, not like Lindbergh on a floodlit runway with the whole world listening on radio. As a result, to this day few people realize who was first. It will fall to President Donald Trump to decide how the nation will mark the centennial of Lindbergh's 1927 flight from Long Island, New York, to Paris. This will confront America with a challenging moral judgment: Can a legendary human endeavor ever be celebrated if the 'hero' turns out to have been so deeply flawed?
