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The Dog-Man of Back Bay
Richard Harmon died cold and alone in a public alley between Newbury Street and
Commonwealth Avenue a few days after Christmas. He was 73. No one knows how long he’d lived on the streets but everyone that lived on the blocks around Public Alley 414 knew Richard, especially the dogs.
Every day, Richard took up residence on a green wooden bench on the
Commonwealth Avenue Mall with his shopping cart of bottles, a Boston
Globe and a bag of dog biscuits.
“He sat here every day,” says Commonwealth Avenue resident Debbie
Swenson, pointing at a bench under a towering elm on the mall. Her
poodle Bridie sniffs at a jug of dog biscuits on the bench where Richard
used to sit, part of a makeshift memorial to the Dog-Man of Back Bay.
“He told me one time that he walked the alleys behind the frat houses
collecting bottles so he could buy the biscuits for our dogs. He always
got Milk-Bone.”
The dogs loved him for it. They greeted him with wagging tails every
morning and gradually a community evolved around Richard. Well-heeled
dog owners stopped to talk to Richard as he fed their dogs a treat.
Poodles, retrievers and labs, lawyers, doctors and executives crossing
paths with a homeless man on one of Boston’s richest streets. Pretty
soon, the dog owners were saving their bottles for Richard, stopping
to chat a little longer and getting to know a man who lived a life
strikingly different than their own. As they chatted with Richard,
they began to talk to each other and the circle of friends widened.
Why Richard ventured to Boston from Bangor is as much a mystery as who Richard really was—and why he was homeless.
“Richard was a great teller of tall tales,” says dog owner Dan Murphy. “I remember last fall, he told me he’d taken a lady friend out for lobster—and then gotten lucky.” Murphy laughs. “Not sure that happened, but he was one of the nicest people you’d ever meet.”
“Absolutely,” interjects Swenson. “He told me he’d had five wives. Maybe he did, but maybe he just liked a story.”
Spending cold days at the Boston Public Library reading mysteries and warm days on the bench reading the Globe, Richard was a literate man, thoughtful and soft-spoken. But it was the cold nights that got to him, sleeping in the alley behind Commonwealth Avenue. Yet, he never took the homeless van to a shelter, and he claimed to live in a rooming house. Rather than take a handout, Richard chose to share what little he had with others—his time, his experience, and the biscuits for “his” dogs.
When Richard’s body was found in the alley, the dog owners decided to give something back to him. They pooled their resources for his funeral and burial. J.S. Waterman in Kenmore Square donated a casket and time at the funeral home. The dog owners got a van to bring Richard’s friends along, and over 50 neighbors joined them at the funeral.
“There were two bouquets of flowers shaped into dogs placed beside the casket,” Swenson said, “and photo collages of the dogs Richard loved. It was just perfect.”
The sign on Richard’s bench, part of the makeshift memorial, reads:
“Richard Harmon (1930-2003). The Dog-Man of Back Bay dispensed dog
biscuits to his ‘customers’ for years on the mall and they sought
him eagerly.”
The dog owners are going to purchase a bench and dedicate it in Richard’s honor. Swenson is going to keep the jar filled with dog biscuits. And, no doubt, the richest folks in Boston and their dogs will continue to seek Richard eagerly.
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