The Universal Underdog

The connections between unrelated events are sometimes really interesting.

It was an unusually cold, blustery Saturday afternoon in November. My wife and I were on our way back to South Eastern CT from The Westport Country Playhouse where we had been invited by my eldest son to join him at a reception and commemoration for Paul Newman.                  

The large wooden barn like structure housed a theater with one balcony. They rebroadcast on a giant screen the original stage production in Westport of 'Our Town' with Paul Newman as the on stage narrator. His character was the only one who could interpret the living players and those who were dead. It was enacted in 2002 so Paul was into his 70s  at the time. The perfect age to portray wisdom, pathos and the acceptance of things as they are and have to be. The casting was in every way perfect. There was much to reminisce about after leaving the theater and as we drove.

My wife soon suggested that we stop off at the Milford Mall. "This should be interesting," I thought to myself. There had, from time to time, been newspaper reports of teen age kids (with nothing better to do) from surrounding cities gathering in large numbers at that mall on weekends and, on a few occasions getting into group brawls.

We drove past the outdoor parking lot at the front of the mall facing Route 1 (also known as the Post Road) and around to the back where there was covered, close in, parking. Our past experiences with the Mall were always during the work week when kids were in school and most parents were at work. This late Saturday afternoon was very different. Thanksgiving was almost upon us and Christmas was not far behind. Holiday decorations were everywhere and almost all the parking areas were filled to capacity.

The crowd of people surrounding us at the Westport Theater had been predominantly those whose growing up years and adult lives overlapped with and been inspirited by the many unforgettable characters portrayed by Paul Newman a man whose personal ‘Causes’ always included being a champion for the protection and enrichment of the lives of those ‘Underdogs’ amongst us. It was he, for example, who created and heroically supported, the 'Hole in the Wall Camps' for seriously ill children. Paul Newman, a man of strength who had achieved fame and privilage had a very special place in his soul for the weak, the underprivilaged, and the innocent.

The young, multi-cultural parade of youngsters and young adults at the mall on this day, in contrast, was a very different population, for whom Paul Newman (if they had even heard of him at all) was very far removed from being a figure that in any way touched, let alone, inspired their lives. 

Little did they, or we, know that a drama was about to unfold in which something fundamental, that Paul cared deeply about, would be recreated and portrayed in the seemingly strangest of forms and perhaps, upon the most unusual stage setting imaginable, by a cast of two characters who were such unpretentious, masters of body language that nary a word had to be spoken. The essence of what was taking place in this, naturally occuring life predicament we happened upon, was as clear to my wife and I, representing one generation, as it was to the small crowd of multi-ethnic people who surounded us, almost all of whom belonged to another generation and diverse American, sub-cultures.

Whenever we are in a shopping mall that has a pet store, my wife and I are drawn there almost as surely and with a similar kind of magnetism as, in other circumstances, we are drawn to large bodies of open water and shorelines. Both pull at something deep and primal inside, for which there  are no words to describe. 

One of our favorite animal displays is that array of cages temporarily inhabited by puppies who are combined two by two (the biblical organizational arrangement going back as far as Noah’s Ark). We were part of a procession of window shoppers filing slowly past the long lineup of cages behind glass, frequently pausing, sometimes backing up, tolerant of one anothers unpredictable forward motion. How could anyone get annoyed when everyone could not help but smile continuously at those playful pups?

It was nearing five P.M. when I overheard one employee tell another, “Don’t take any more out of their cages, they are about to be fed”. We decided to hang around and watch the fun. A half dozen of the animals anticipated what was coming by facing the back of their cages, sharply focused on what was not yet visible but 'sure as shootin' was about to be placed before them. Some did so while lying alert on the floor, while others could not contain their excitement and repeatedly did fake charges in that direction, yelping or barking for the food and for faster service from their personal waiter. The dog handler, behind the cages, finally appeared. He ignored their antics and approached with a tall stack of metal dog bowls running up and leaning against his left arm from his flat palm to the middle of his bicep.

As he reached with his right hand toward each cage the pair of enclosed dogs would back up, and poise themselves, ready to pounce. One by one he slid down the locking bar, pulled open the door and inserted two bowls half filled with dry food and then closed the cage . There was no further hesitation and no playing with the food. These dogs were hungry; they fed voraciously. Their dinner break, they had come to learn, was only fifteen minutes long and then the bowls were to be removed.

I noticed something going on that was so strange it was positively stunning. One of the cages, on the second of the three condominium like levels, contained a tall, slim, silver-gray Pug with his black, pushed in face and tiny features. Then there was his room-mate, a pudgy Corgi, who was a shade of brown not unlike deer-skin, with arrow shaped erect ears and who was built considerably closer to the ground than the pug. His proudly held head was atop a broadly built chest and neck. The Corgi repeatedly shoved away the Pug with the side of his body so he could not get to either of the bowls. He was able to accomplish this without hardly a pause in ravishing the contents. When the Pug went after the other bowl his tormenter immediately switched to that one. This back and forth went on for several minutes and then, unexpectedly, it ceased.

The Pug just gave up. He retreated to the other side of the cage and just stood there erect and staring sadly, hopelessly, at his perpetual intimidator who continued feeding until both bowls had been consumed and licked clean. There was, seemingly, nothing left. But it appeared that this hogging of the food had happened before because after the Corgi had his way with it all, the Pug went to the bowls, one at a time, turned each upside down and licked that bottom surface. He may not have been tougher but he was smarter than his nemesis. The bowls carried by the handler in that tall stack each rested on the food contained in the bowl beneath it. Those few particles and fragments were all that this persecuted animal had been feeding on for, God knows how long.

Was this an example of animal to animal cruelty? Did the Corgi have a glandular problem that made his appetite insatiable? Are Pugs too easily intimidated? None of the above. Corgi's are bred to herd   livestock. They are strong, athletic and exquisitely prepared to nip at the heels of sheep without getting kicked. Their short stature puts them beneath the upward kick of the animals they oversee. This corgi was doing to the pug what just comes naturally; he was determined to have his way. What seemed undeniable however, was the terribly sad realization that the Pug was becoming resigned, as a result of, intimidation, to the cruel fate of being starved to death. Up to this time, no-one on the staff had noticed.

My wife pointed out what was happening between those dogs to the people around us and then to one of the store employees. Everyone, gathered in closer and expressed pathos for that poor forlorn dog and we stood there together mesmerized, to see how they would handle it.

The handler arrived with a fresh bowl of dog food and inserted it into the cage. Sure enough the Corgi, once again charged after his third helping while deliberately blocking access to the Pug, who again made an initial, but seemingly futile effort, until---. The handler pushed the glutton away but he kept forcing himself back to the table. Finally the handler realized he was the only adult supervisor around and the Corgi had to be moved elsewhere. He proceeded to do so. The desperate Pug was so hungry he literally inhaled the food. We could only imagine his sense of relief at having gotten rid of his tormentor.

We, together with the rest of the audience, with whom we had melded {as audiences have done since time immemorial} began to applaud and when the handler, for the first time looked our way, gave him a vigorous thumbs up.

Paul Newman, had he been there, would have smiled that irresistibly contagious smile of his and his squinting blue eyes would have twinkled Regardless of generational and cultural differences there is a bit of Paul Newman in all of us.