The Man With The Dog Face Wall

It was about 1970, me still in my teenage years. I seemed to waffle in between different groups of people. I lived in the older part of town. Lots of trees, older houses. Pretty spooky at times. The kids were subdued, but still trouble. Quieter and hidden trouble. The dark and the trees will do that to you. 

I started wandering with some kids in the newer part of town. Maybe it was the open view between the mid-century houses on Long Island, maybe because they were younger families... but the teenagers in this part of town were more vocal with the trouble they caused. Out in the streets more.

I don't know why, but I was always up for an adventure. If someone wanted to sneak around an abandoned house or check out the tunnels at the creek, I was your gal. One fine evening I was standing around with some boys. I never got into doing whatever girly things there are to do, and neither did a lot of my girlfriends. It wasn't a big deal. It was ok to be who you were, as long as the cops weren't always at the house. Well, the best boy there told me about a house that most kids wouldn't go near. He went in there with his friend Tommy. "You want to go up there with me?" Ok.

We did something that was more commonplace in more neighborly times. We knocked on the door. A man in his fifties or so opened the door. Thick dark hair, tan skin, white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, kinda baggy black slacks. New York was pretty ethnic then, so I'm guessing one of our Italian neighbors. "Can we come in?" we asked like crazy punks. 

The lighting was strange. Instead of a bright even light, more isolated yellow glow. Dark in the corners. The living room was the place of interest I had heard tell about. We brisked past the hole ridden walls to sit in the kitchen. I was so into meeting different kinds of people. I don't know if it was the meditation I started at a young age or the hallucinogens that were popular in the long haired world at the time, but I viewed everything as an "experience." Take it in, make a movie in your mind. 

Matter of factly we sat down at the kitchen table. No questions about us, he just started yammering away. It was as if he was highly agitated for no reason. He had been raked over the coals and left to pick up the pieces on his own. He had no kind thoughts about anyone. He was working himself up even more when he declared dogs are God. He wasn't just saying that because he liked dogs, I don't think he liked anything about them or any living thing. "Dogs are God. Dog backwards is God. Dogs are God."

The man, I don't think any of us knew his name, stared straight ahead and told us about his days in boxing. He could have "gone places." I personally knew that boxing was a tough business because my dad was a sportswriter and boxing was his forte. Dad didn't talk much about some of the things he saw, but when he had a few, he'd be feeling sorry for how most boxers were treated. A corrupt business. They were taken advantage of by promoters and managers. So I wasn't shocked to hear any of this. But he had proof of how great he was.

He took us back out to the living room. I glanced at the walls in the hallway on our way in, but now we got a better look at all the 8x10 publicity photos taped to the walls. One after another of typical boxing promo shots.

Rocky Graziano

Then the show began. He took his big fisted hands and started punching the wall in the living room. He wanted to show us just how strong and brutal his punch was. The walls were already scarred and destroyed, but he was going for more. And these were old time plaster walls, not drywall. Fully enraged. I seldom let too much fear creep in, but right about then my friend John and I gave each other a look. We knew it was time to go. We both just booked. Right out the front door, while he was just punching away.

I don't know if we were really in danger, but that sharp awareness and rush of adrenaline hit us both at the same time. Another episode that added to our small time legendary status. I wonder whatever happened to the "dog is God" man? Mind you, this was before the Son of Sam and his beliefs about dogs. Was there an underground cult of people trying out a new philosophy? Everything under the sun was going on in NY in those days. In reality, most probably, things got darker for him before they got better. I hate to think of it. You can fill in the blanks on how things went, probably pretty sad, but I always have had the best hopes and wishes for most people and things.