by Jack Dann
Conservative Party strategist Terrence Campbell commented, “I think it is time to muzzle John Gordon.”
“No gun control, no dog control,” said Clarence Brown, Black Panther leader famed for the two attack-trained Dobermans always at his side.
Osai Adoko, national director of BAM! (Black Action, Man!), spat, “Cities for the People. Off Whitey’s mother f___g mutts!”
“This is simply one more fascist boot heel jammed in the face of the American people,” said Timothy O’Malley, S.J. Father O’Malley, the fugitive priest recently placed on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List in connection with the bomb-destruction of the Army Chemical Warfare Computer Center at Fort Bellamy, made his remarks in a secret interview taped by an American Broadcasting Company crew. “By what right does any legislative body constituted by man presume to deprive human beings of those few comforts that remain in this death-worshiping, soul-shriveling society? The military-industrial complex is trying to lobotomize the citizenry and create a nation of mechanized automatons who will do their bidding without question. Defy them! Keep your dogs! Spit on their godless and thanatotic encroachments. Brothers and sisters, venceremos! We shall be victorious!”
Bugaboo Bob, thirty-four-year-old founder of the New Yippie Yassuh White Radical Bandersnatches, exhorted: “For the brotherhood of Man, for the cause of Peace, Freedom, and Equality, get rid of the goddamn dogs. Take the cities! Kill the stinking animals and use the bloody meat to feed the poor and the starving. Death to dogs!”
There were scattered incidents of violence: several persons were beaten; a bomb was detonated in DIM’s headquarters after hours, causing extensive damage but no personal injury; politicians, and officers and spokesmen of DIM received threatening letters; and East Side gynecologist Irving Siegel shot gunned his neighbor to death after the man taunted Siegel about the impending removal of Siegel’s pet Airedale.
Roughly 3,000 persons did dispose of their animals during March through April. Cleveland Amory characterized them as “the kind of people who would press a loaded pistol to their temples, smile, and pull the trigger while saluting the flag if the government told them to.” More than 15,000 dog registrations were removed from the ASPCA’s files, which are the sole repository of the city’s dog records. No formal charges were made, but three clerks were dismissed, and the ASPCA public relations director implied in an ambiguous press release that the men were zealous dog lovers who had undertaken a systematic destruction of as many records as possible. Only half of New York’s dog owners have ever bothered to obtain the required license for their animals. This meant that of slightly more than 750,000 dogs, records existed for only 360,000, a serious obstacle to the implementation of Section 161.05.
Ignoring outraged cries of Police State! the city opened an office to which “responsible citizens” could report the locations of their own or other persons’ dogs by letter or telephone. Dog partisans crippled this agency by overloading it with false information. DIM stepped in again, rented an IBM computer and hired a clerical staff of 30 and a team of 100 field investigators. The system worked this way. Upon receipt of a lead, the computer checked the informant’s name against the city telephone directories. If there was no listing, the report was rejected out of hand. If the name did appear, the informant was called to verify that it was indeed he who had made the report. Upon confirmation, a field investigator was dispatched. If existence of a dog at a given address was validated, that information was locked into the computer. If invalidated, the informant’s name was listed as unreliable, and any additional intelligence he offered was dismissed. Two field verifications earned automatic acceptance of further notifications. Investigators often initiated their own reports, and a loose system of volunteer block captains was organized.
DOG fought the program hard, but DIM’s computer, backed by its human adjuncts, was relentless and very nearly invulnerable. By shifting animals to the homes of sympathetic friends for a few days and then filing informant’s reports, dog owners managed to salt a few thousand erroneous cases into the machine’s memory cells, but these were of little consequence.
On September 6, DIM turned over to the city a printout which pinpointed the locations of 617,359 dogs, all of whom would be declared contraband in one week.
The city became suddenly quiet. The furor of the last many years vanished in an afternoon. Alternatives exhausted, rhetoric useless. New York City prepared in grim silence to go to war against itself.
Newspapers and local television stations reminded their audiences several times daily that as of 9:00 A.M. Tuesday, September 13, all dogs not sanctioned by Approval Form 758 from the Environmental Protection Administration would be subject to confiscation. Only 1,100 such documents had been issued. Many dog lovers, across the country and in other parts of the world as well as in New York, had believed that the ultimatum was a bluff. Several commentators alluded to the Berlin Wall crisis in which the Soviet Union had threatened the United States with war unless it withdrew from the Berlin Wall. Nothing happened. Large numbers assumed it would be the same with New York’s dogs. Even English Prime Minister Douglas Pierce-Bryson called upon Americans to “end this nonsensical farce.”
But New York was quite serious. Obviously, 750,000 dogs would require a lot of rounding up. City officials enlisted the help of strategists from the Pentagon and Sperry Rand in devising a game plan. They selected Manhattan, where the canine population was most concentrated, as the primary target, then further refined this to six of the borough’s 22 precincts. It was estimated that 30,000 to 40,000 animals could be removed per week, and hoped that this number would rise as many dog owners, faced with the inevitability of confiscation, removed their pets from the city themselves. Planners predicted that Manhattan would be “sanitized” within six weeks. Manhattan-based police were ordered to work 12-hour shifts for the duration, and all leaves were canceled. The National Guards’ 569th Transportation Battalion, the 669th Transportation Detachment, and the 102nd Engineer Battalion were mobilized for support of the program. A staging area with fenced perimeters and several hundreds of ground stakes and short bench-chains was constructed in the Central Park Sheep Meadow. Confiscated dogs were to be brought here first, registered, then dispatched to holding depots in Queens and the Bronx. Ironically, the city hired handler and attack-dog teams from a private agency to protect the Sheep Meadow installation after it had been vandalized three successive nights by pro-dog forces. Five hundred ASPCA auxiliaries were also standing by, hastily trained volunteers who were to assist in taking troublesome dogs into custody, and to see that the animals were treated humanely.
Dogs for whom new homes could not be found would, as facilities became crowded, be “euthanized.” While DOG’s only response to Section 161.05 was militant antipathy and rejection, the ASPCA and the American Kennel Club organized a contingency adoption program. Appeals were broadcast for two months, specifically aimed at New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania. Proximity of relocated dogs to the city was important, a psychological comfort to original owners, who would be able to visit their pets; and, since the city had no funds for the project, new “parents” had to pick up their dogs from the holding depots themselves. Offers of new homes were received from each of the 50 states, and totaled more than 1,500,000.
Studies by the federal government indicate that Tuesday is the least likely day for employees to absent themselves from their jobs. Accordingly, the campaign was to begin on a Tuesday morning; though some resistance was expected, the fewer heads of households who were home, planners reasoned, the more this resistance would be minimized. The six precincts had also been carefully selected. The 20th and 24th precincts cover the area from Central Park west to the Hudson River, and from 59th Street north to 110th Street. This contained the highest ratio of dogs to humans in the borough and it was hoped that by purging the “enemy’s” stronghold, morale among dog owners in other precincts would be damaged and the job made easier. The 19th and 23rd precincts run
from the east side of the park (Fifth Avenue) to the East River, and from 59th Street to 110th. This is Manhattan’s wealthiest enclave. These educated, affluent, and privileged citizens were expected to submit without much difficulty. The precincts were also logistically attractive; they bracketed the park and the staging area, and trucks bound for the holding depots could be routed with equal ease to the Triboro and 59th Street bridges, or the Midtown Tunnel. The 13th precinct runs from Fifth Avenue to the East River and from 14th Street to 38th Street, a rather nebulous and undefined area without any easily observed neighborhood characteristics. Authorities did not anticipate much trouble here. The 5th precinct encompasses New York’s Chinatown and Little Italy. The Chinese, traditionally, defer to the law without protest, and New York’s Italian community has enthusiastically supported Law, Order, & Morality for the last decade and a half. The city’s strategy, then, was: (1) flush the dogs from their biggest enclave, and (2) begin with areas in which the prominent sentiment was, if not strongly anti-dog, then at least supportive of the city’s legislative and judicial authority.
In theory, the operation was meticulously planned, streamlined, and highly effective.
In practice, it was a disaster of the first magnitude.
Integrated units of police, ASPCA auxiliaries and National Guardsmen were to be in position by 8:45 A.M. on Tuesday, September 13, and to begin confiscating animals promptly at 9:00. That of course was high optimism. It is remarkable that the program got under way as early as it did—11:55 A.M. At that moment a city policeman and an auxiliary were admitted to an apartment on Park Avenue and 76th Street, and there took into possession without difficulty a Welsh corgi.
At 11:58, two patrolmen armed with the blanket “premises of John Doe, harborer of an illegal canine” search warrant that had been issued to all participating police, entered an apartment on Broome Street with the help of the building superintendent, who opened the door with his passkey. No human occupant was present. The police took custody of a black Labrador retriever, and left the required receipt on the kitchen table.
The first incident occurred at 12:00. Mrs. Ellen Puckett of West 87th Street refused entrance to two officers and an auxiliary. Patrolman Donald Summers attempted to reason with her through the door while Patrolman Michael Esposito summoned the superintendent. The superintendent opened the lock and admitted the officers. Mrs. Puckett’s fox terrier was barking in a closet where she had attempted to conceal it. As Patrolman Esposito snapped a leash to the animal’s collar, Mrs. Puckett struck him over the head with a plaster of Paris statue. Five stitches were required to close Esposito’s wound, and Mrs. Puckett was charged with felonious assault.
Isolated, the episode possesses a certain low comedic value; akin, say, to second-rate Buster Keaton. But, far from humorous, it was the beginning of Bloody Tuesday, a day which has been referred to by respected social analysts as “the worst civil disorder since the Draft Riots of the 1860s” and “the initial stumble of what will prove to be the total collapse of American society.”
At first, most resistance took the form of individual defensive tactics: new locks to which superintendents had no keys; doors barricaded with furniture or even nailed shut; dogs hidden in basements or the apartments of friends; animals rushed to new buildings as police cars and National Guard trucks pulled to the curbs; pets removed to precincts not included in the pogrom. Dog owners and their sympathizers glared at law officers and frequently insulted and cursed them. DIM supporters walked up to police and National Guardsmen, shook their hands and clapped them on the back. A few fistfights were reported between the two factions.
At 12:30 a patrol car on Mulberry Street radioed that some 30 persons had barred the officers from a building and were now pelting them with eggs and garbage. Similar occurrences were reported on East 61st and Prince streets. On Bayard Street stones were hurled, shattering a patrol car’s windshield. These were Law, Order, & Morality precincts. Officials felt the first tiny stirrings of doubt. On East 26th Street, three officers and two auxiliaries with half a dozen barking canines in tow were followed from a building by a handful of owners who were both irate and grieving. The policemen found two National Guardsmen tied and gagged at the curbside, and every tire on the patrol car and Guard truck slashed. A small crowd stood grinning around the disabled vehicles. The police received hoots and jeers when they untied the Guardsmen. One dog owner snatched his pet’s leash from an auxiliary’s hand and dashed away. The crowd prevented the officers from giving chase.
Anti-dog elements were also active. They gave up-to-the-minute intelligence to the police, informing them, for example, that certain dogs had been moved a few flights up or down to another apartment, or taken to the building next door. They produced tools and happily assisted in forcing sealed doors. They stood voluntary guard over vehicles while officers were in buildings, and they clashed with dog supporters who harassed or attempted to interfere with police. On West 63rd a small gang cornered persons foolish enough to be out walking dogs, seized the animals and hauled them to police.
“It was weird,” one patrolman later remarked. “I’d look at those people who brought us dogs, and all I could think of was that they were like puppies who wanted to be petted. Hell, we needed help. So we’d thank ’em, and it was just like telling ’em, ‘Go fetch me another one, boy!’ And they’d run off again.”
For the first hour, it was a little like a holiday—for everyone but dog owners. The police were determined, but somewhat embarrassed, and even they, like most other persons, couldn’t quite believe that Section 161.05 was actually being implemented.
At 12:40 the first serious incident occurred when Patrolmen Gerald O’Malley and Walter Ensley were attacked and severely beaten in the apartment of Joseph D’Agostino.
Then, with frightening quickness, an empty patrol car was firebombed on First Avenue and 23rd Street, and Bloody Tuesday’s first fatality was registered. Dorothy Birien, a sixty-seven-year-old widow and pensioner, fled with her pet mongrel to the basement of the building in which she lived on West 92nd Street. Four neighbors pursued her while a fifth went to summon police, who were knocking on her door on the sixth floor. The police descended to the basement in the elevator. As the car came to a stop its occupants were horrified to hear a piercing shriek, which ended abruptly. The officers leapt out when the door opened, and saw blood oozing from beneath the car. Mrs. Birien and her dog were both found crushed to death at the bottom of the shaft, where they had taken refuge.
Radio and television stations fed an uninterrupted stream of on-the-spot reports, half-truths and rumor to New Yorkers, but no one had any clear picture of what was actually happening. Although there is still no agreement as to where the ultimate blame for Bloody Tuesday should be placed—if indeed it can be placed at all—there is a consensus on the inflammatory role played by the news media. The early broadcasts were singularly dramatic and sometimes embellished by eager reporters. They appear to have been responsible for many hundreds of persons leaving their jobs to return home. Some went to protect their pets, others to support the police and the confiscation, and still others to make sure their families were indoors and safe. This infusion of frightened, tense, and angry persons only worsened the situation.
At 1:15a sniper opened fire from a rooftop on 109th Street, killing one auxiliary and one policeman, wounding a second policeman and an innocent bystander. The sniper disappeared several minutes before police reinforcements arrived. He was never identified, nor did he strike again.
At Grand Central Station a burly man snatched up a Seeing Eye dog and hurled it into the path of an incoming train, where it was killed. Many persons screamed, but there were also several cheers. Scuffling broke out. The blind owner of the dog was himself assaulted, and suffered bruises and lacerations.
Policemen, ASPCA auxiliaries, and National Guardsmen were set upon and beaten numerous times. Attacks against law officers spread from the target areas into other precincts.
By midafte
rnoon bands of anti-dog people were roving the streets chanting “Ho! Ho! Ho! Dogs Must Go!” and waving American flags, and pennants which read: Do It for Mama! and Cities for Humans. Vigilante-like, they ran down dog walkers and appropriated the animals. These dogs were at first turned over to authorities, but before long this process was deemed unnecessarily time consuming. Arthur Feldman was jumped by such a band on Orchard Street. He was kicked and punched by several men when he tried to protect his Airedale. Then they pinned him to the sidewalk and, while he screamed, beat his dog to death with clubs. Similar incidents were reported with mounting frequency. A surprising number of dog owners were unaware of what was occurring, or simply didn’t believe it, and, until well into the early evening, they took their pets out for their customary strolls . . . only to be overtaken by horror.
Led by building residents, anti-dog forces invaded apartments, killed pets, and in many cases, swept up by the passions of their acts, went on to vandalize the apartments and inflict injuries upon the occupants. On Bank Street, four men who had been drinking through the afternoon broke in the door of Melinda Flemming, a receptionist. They flung Miss Flemming’s miniature poodle through the window, then gang-raped the girl. In the Pavilion, a luxury building on East 77th Street, a group of men forced entrance into the apartment of Aldous Merriwhether, an interior decorator who owned a brace of Afghans. They were greeted with a fusillade of shots from Merriwhether’s .357 Magnum revolver. Two were killed and two more wounded before Merriwhether fell dead, his skull split open by a crowbar.
Dog supporters formed their own patrols. They “liberated” caged animals, escorted dog walkers back to their apartments, and established sentry units around many buildings. On several occasions they came into violent confrontation with anti-dog groups, and fought with fists, feet, empty bottles, and clubs.