ARTICLE

Protection Dog Takes Big Bite

By RICHARD SCHWARTZ

Liza has a nervous condition. She's a light sleeper. Little noises bother her. When her temper flares she snaps at people.

She lives at 1770 Amsterdam Av. in the Sugar Hill section of Harlem. Steer clear of her.

Liza is a 70-lb. Doberman Pinscher. Her home is a hardware store. She's a protection dog, one of an estimated 4,000-4,500 now used by city businesses for security.

The universal fear of a snarling dog, many businessmen have discovered, is one remedy for their own fears of stick-ups and break-ins

Rent-A-Dog rates go from $85 a month—"you heel it" is how one trainer refers to them—to as high as $600. Dependng on whether a dog is merely a noise maker, a watchdog, an attack specialist, or a cold killer, it can cost $75 or $4000.

"Our service is better than any Rent-A-Cop," says Capt. Arthur Haggerty, a former commarding officer in the Army's K-9 Corps whose Bronx-based rental force is the largest in the country. More than 70 Haggerty trained dogs patrol city construction sites nightly.

"Ours is a flat rate and you get unlimited mileage," he said. "We don't junk the dogs like they do cars. We provide refresher training and keep up on innoculations and bathing.'"

Trainer Tom Nova, who operates five kennels in the Metropolitan area, puts the U. S. dog population at 41 million and estimates that perhaps a milliion of the animals—trained and untrained—provide protection.

In Philadelphia, trainer Thomas McGinn says he sees nearly 25 protection dogs a week. "The market is the same as New York," he says. "Dogs bite just as hard in Philadelphia."

To teach dogs to stand up to threatening strangers, they are put through routines in which trainers make gutteral or meanacing sounds. As the trainer retreats, the dog builds confidence.

Using padded sleeve guards, the dogs are taught to attack on command. Trainers rate the animals for aggressiveness, protectiveness, sensitivity and intelligence.

"These dogs are roughheads," Haggerty jokes. "We're making useful members of society out of them."

He even thinks rehabilitating criminals—"humanizing humans," he says—would be simpler.

Haggerty, and most other dealers, will not train attack dogs for personal or home protection.

Richard Bernstein, Liza's owner, paid $1500 for the dog. She has a jaw pressure of about 100 pounds a square inch. She can snap a collarbone in a single snip. She is "attack" and "obedience" trained.

During business hours, Liza crouches behind a front counter. Above her peering eyes is a red and white sign: "Warning: This Area Patrolled by Attack Dog."

There is no sign on the front window to ward off night intruders. Bernstein prefers a burglar's acquaintance with Liza to be more spontaneous.

Bernstein, a licensed locksmith, has been robbed three times. He tried iron gates and two elaborate burglar systems for his storefront. But intruders bored their way through walls and floor.

He also invested in a $2000 ''radar" device to detect movement inside the store. But busy telephone circuits crippled the alarm relays to police.

And though Bernstein packs a pistol, he's disinclined to use it.

Not Even Attempts

In eight months with Liza and an earlier protection dog, he says, there have been no burglaries—not even attempts.

"What the dog commands that gadgets don't," says Bernstein, "is respect."

Sylvana Hirsch, owner of a bakery at 306 Columbus Av., paid $100 for a German Shepherd named Cornelius. Upkeep and care cost "much more," says Hirsch.

She said her business had been menaced by addicts and other nuisance types who "came in swinging." She bought Cornelius from trainer Haggerty after "three frightening experiences."

"A dog's an immediate danger," she says. "With an alarm, a crook could make his getaway before the police came."

Between the bakery's pie and cake displays are signs publicizing the presence of the dog. The dog is usually allowed to roam the store at will, although it is trained to attack only on command or if the owners themselves are attacked.

"It's kept away a lot of customers, particularly older women," Hirsch says. "We've lost a lot of street trade. But better that than our lives."

Hirsch, who is from Texas, believes if she were the victim of an assault onlookers would "just put their newspapers up higher over their faces."

"They'd just be happy it's not them," she says.

Phillip Goldstein, a liquor store owner down the avenue at W. 72d St., keeps a self trained Shepherd, Kelley, who "growls and backs us up."

Goldstein does not believe in posting signs. "You put up a sign, and it doesn't mean anything," he said. "They find out about the dog when they reach for the half-pints."

Goldstein, who was held up three times before purchasing Kelley, also brandishes a firearm.

'If the dog doesn't work," he said, "the pistol will."

ARTICLE

He Stomped a Cab and Lived

By RICHARD SCHWARTZ

Pedestrian Jack Markell, no fan of cabbies, has put his foot down.

As a matter of fact, he put it down through the fender of a yellow taxi which blocked his path in a crosswalk.

It cost him $40, but Markell, 53, a financial analyst, says it was worth it.

"It was a pretty big dent," Markell chuckles. "I was surprised how far it went in. I thought it went all the way through the other side of the car."

It all began Monday, when Markell left his office at 100 Wall St. shortly before 6 p.m.

He decided to walk across Wall St., up Water St., past Chinatown, and along the Bowery toward his Stuyvesant Town home, near 14th St..

He wanted to hoof it, Markell explains, because it was a mild day and he was feeling chipper. Besides, Markell says, he is no fonder of subways than he is of taxis.

He began his trek—up Water St., past the intersection of Pine, to DePeyster, then Maiden Lane, then Fletcher, then John, then Fulton St., then . . .

Then the taxi got in his path. The cabbie deliberately had nudged his auto into the crosswalk, Markell claims.

Most pedestrians walked around the cab. But not him.

"I just kept walking straight," Markell recalls. "I put my foot up. I got $40 worth of his fender."

It was, he says now, a spontaneous revolt. Subconsciously, perhaps, he may have remembered a story he read several weeks ago about a film character who balked at a cabbie, also blocking a crosswalk.

In the film, the pedestrian sat on the hood of the cab and lectured the driver: "We have to understand that traffic lights were installed in order to . . ."

Markell, in his run-in, tried a different tact.

"I didn't say a thing," he recalls. '"He pretended he didn't know what happened, but he did. Everybody did. There was nothing for me to say."

The cabbie fumed.

Markell remained silent.

The cabbie fumed some more.

In anguish, the cabbie grabbed Markell by the suit. He was about to knock Markell down, but calmed down.

Markell says he then politely told the cabbie he would pay for the fender's repair—which turned out to be $40.

But, Markell says, not before he warned the cabbie, "If you don't take it easy, you have a $150 bill to buy me a new suit."