Ernesto Quiñonez - Dog Days of Spanish Harlem

 

 

My story starts a few years ago, about five, six years ago. I was in love with this girl, and I had moved in with her, and I was watching television, and she was doing something else. I forgot what she was doing, but she wasn't watching television with me. And then, she noticed that tears were coming down my cheeks. She noticed that I was crying. 

 

So, she stopped doing what she was doing and she sat next to me. She looked at the television, because she knew that that's what was making me cry. And then, she noticed that the images were of a cop movie of the 1970s, and she didn't get it and she said, "Why is Serpico making you cry?" [audience chuckles] And I told her, "That's my New York. It's the New York of my youth. That's the New York that I was raised in. This is the New York, the gritty New York, the urban blight, the benign neglect, the New York before gentrification.” I was telling her that this is what's making me cry. What did I do during that time? Well, I took care of myself. I come from a family of seven, [unintelligible 00:01:20] Spanish Harlem. I'm its native son. [audience applause] 

 

We took care of ourselves. My dad used to work in a factory. And one day, a steel drum fell on his back and it broke his ribs. So, my mom would always say, "We might never be rich, but we will always be clean and we will never go on welfare." So, there was absolutely no money. There was no money. I wanted the things that other teenagers had. I wanted Pumas, I wanted jeans. I wanted to go to the movies every now and then, but there was just no money. So, what did I do? I started stealing dogs. [audience chuckles] It was a trick. It was a trick that I had learned from a junkie called Eddie. 

 

Basically, I would go with my best friend to the Upper East Side. And if you notice, the Upper East Side in Spanish Harlem are right there, back-to-back, you walk 20 minutes downtown, and you're in the richest place on earth. You walk 20 minutes down, and you were one of the poorest, which was El Barrio. So, we would walk 20 minutes downtown. We would take a laundry bag and a knife, and we looked for small dogs, because you're not going to steal a German shepherd, because he'll kill you. [audience laughter] So, we would look for small dogs. Salons were good, because that's where most of the ladies were. Post offices, cafes. And then, we would cut the leash and stuff the dog in the laundry bag. And then we would just walk, casually walk away. 

 

I would keep the dog in the house. I would keep him in the bathroom, leash to the radiator for three-four days, and then I would go back around the block, the radius where I stole it, and look for the reward flyer. [audience laughter] And in those days, there was no desktop publishing, there was no Photoshop, nothing. So, you actually either have a Polaroid of the dog or a very good description of the dog. So, once we found the reward flyer, I would call up the number. I remember that even back then, even though I did not know it, something told me that words had power, that words can save you. And the word that I learned was aimlessly. The word was aimlessly. [audience chuckles] Because I would call and say, "Lady, I think we found your dog. He was walking aimlessly [audience laughter] in Central Park." [audience laughter] 

 

And then, I would take the dog-- But now, this time, you don't take the dog with your friend. You take the dog with a little kid. And his job was to cry. [audience chuckles] So, I would take my little cousin Ralphie, who was very cute, and I would say, "Ralphie, if you cry, I'll buy you 100 penny candies, which is a dollar, a whole dollar of penny candies which is 100 candies." All he would have to do is cry. It was almost all the time, it was a doorman building, buildings you never had been in. The lady will open the door and say, "Oh my God, thank you for bringing my dog." But my little cousin would hold the dog and start crying, and I would say, "It's the lady's dog, okay? I know you like him, [audience laughter] but it's the lady's dog. I'll get you one just like it." And the lady would say, "Oh no, here's the reward." I said, "No, all right.” [audience chuckles]

 

What made me stop? I'll tell you what made me stop. It was one night-- We had done this a few times. We had done this for almost a year, if not over a year. [audience chuckles] The rewards weren't bad. $50. $100. This is 1980, 1979 $70, okay? So, that went nice. That went a long way. So, what made me stop is one night I was watching Three's Company reruns with my sisters, and my dad was at the table. He was still hurting. My mom answered the door, because two men knocked. It was these two white men with badges. I knew something was wrong. 

 

I knew something was wrong, but I played it off, and I just kept looking at the television with my sisters. And then, my mom took a peek at me and I knew that she was angry and I knew that I had been caught. And then, she called my father to come over. And then my father came over. Then my father looked at me and he was angry. I started bargaining with God. I said, "God, if you give me a second chance, I swear I will stop. I will never do this again." I respected my parents. I did. I knew was going to get it. I was going to get it big. So, then my dad called me over, and I went over and my dad said, "Didn't we teach you not to take things that are not yours?" I said, "Yes." One of the white men who was there said, "Well, if he has one of them here, we're here to take him back." So, my dad just looked at me and I said, "Yeah, I have one."

 

I had this dog in the bathroom. I had told my parents that this was my job. I was a dog sitter, [audience laughter] because they sold me with money. Sometimes I actually pay my mom 5 bucks for the phone. So, I was actually helping out, too. So, not just always going to the movies and buying Jordache and Pumas. [audience chuckles]

 

Anyway, so I brought the dog. I was this close to crying. Everybody was just standing still, my mom, my dad, the two white men. I knew something was wrong, too. I was like, "Okay, what's happening here?" The white men were actually there for library books. [audience reaction] Way overdue library books. And in those days, I wanted to be a painter. That was my first love. My first love was painting. Like, many first loves that did not love me back, I sucked. I had borrowed all of these expensive books. Van Gogh, the Matisse, those big fat ones. I had borrowed them and I had not returned them and they were there to get them. So, I took the dog back and I brought the books and I was so happy. [audience chuckles] That was my second chance.

 

Now, years later, [audience laughter] I'm a writer. I'm an Ivy League professor. I make it a point to visit juvenile detentions. I go there and I tell them the same story that I told you. I tell those juveniles. And I said, "I could easily behind those bars like you are, but I got a second chance. And each of you will get a second chance. When you get that second chance, you take it. You take it, or you will never fall in love." And that's my story.