Remembering Butch, Glen Cove’s ‘Big Dog’

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The month of May this year marks 75 years since the death of one of Glen Cove’s most beloved residents. The entire world was engulfed in a total war during World War II. The nation was rationing goods, millions of men were in uniform, and women took their places in the factories to produce the weapons and materiel that led to final victory. During that time Glen Cove became known as “the town with the Big Dog,” due to a large St. Bernard named Butch, who served to divert peoples’ attention from the turmoil in the world to focus on pleasanter times. 

It seems we are living in such times once again. Today’s turbulent events — a nation divided by ideology, a pandemic, violent crime rising in the big cities, a major war in Europe, nations around the world becoming more aggressive, and saber rattling of nuclear arms — it fits the pattern, and a retelling of Butch’s story is appropriate.  

Butch was born in 1939. The population today that can relate first-hand accounts of their encounters with Butch is dwindling, and those who remember him were in most cases too young in the 1940s to be in the service. His story begins in the Great Neck-Douglaston area where this young St. Bernard dog was a natural babysitter, faithfully keeping watch over his owner’s young children. But by the Spring of 1942, America was “all in” in WWII and rationing of foods, including meat products, making it difficult to keep a growing St. Bernard well-fed.  

As Butch grew in size, he needed more room to run, so his owner reached out to an acquaintance, J. Norris Miller, of Glen Cove. Having more resources at his command and a moderate-sized estate that fronted along Forest Avenue (where shopping centers exist today) the Millers agreed to take in Butch, and young Anne Miller technically became his owner in the 1940’s. Butch soon became a revered resident and celebrity, later rising to national prominence. 

Butch preferred Glen Cove’s village, because he liked people, and the bustling village could provide numerous encounters with them. Mornings, he enjoyed roaming down Forest Avenue past the schools where he became a favorite of the students he met along the way. During the day, he could usually be found downtown visiting his favorite shops and eateries for snacks, such as O’Rourke’s Diner, the Big Ben Market, the Green Delicatessen, and the Bridge Street Lunch Wagon. At other times of the day he might be napping in the lobby of the Cove Theater on School Street, or at the Glen Street Railroad Station, or simply lounging on the sidewalk in front of Grants, where pedestrians would nimbly step around him.  Butch was known to travel to The Landing, and to hang out near the Morgan Beach refreshment stand, likely waiting for a child’s ice cream to slip off of its cone. Anecdotal stories have Butch sprawled out in flower beds in Southridge.  In the days before people locked their cars, and especially open sedans, Butch would occasionally find his way into an automobile and stretch out on the back seat for a nap.  More than a few automobile owners would be surprised and shocked to find Butch waking up as they drove off.  In short, Butch might be found anywhere in the city.  

In the 1940s, Glen Cove had a dogcatcher and although Butch was apprehended a few times, when Arthur Aitkenhead, was the mayor he declared Butch a “free resident of the city” and could therefore roam at will without a collar. 

In the 1940s Glen Cove’s town dog was Butch. He’d travel too, hopping aboard the Long Island Rail Road train at Glen Street taking it to Oyster Bay to visit Hanophy’s Market on South Street. Practically every railroad conductor knew the four-footed vagabond, as did many of the commuters of the day. Sometimes he’d get off at the Locust Valley station where he knew of other generous businesses that were happy to provide him with a snack.

Butch’s fame spread overseas during World War II when GIs from Glen Cove told their buddies about the big dog back home. He weighed nearly 250 pounds. In a time of conflict, sacrifice, and privation, Butch became a symbol of normalcy and the small town life that existed before the war. While the world blew itself up, Butch just didn’t seem to care, and people who missed simpler times and normalcy focused on Butch and his adventures. Anne Miller recounted stories of the many servicemen who would write to her to inquire about him, and to say that Butch reminded them of home.  

After World War II ended, Butch achieved nationwide celebrity status. Stories abounded about the dog in the local press, and similar stories were published in hundreds of newspapers across the United States after the Associated Press got wind of the “Big Dog in Glen Cove.” In 1946 a Life Magazine photographer came to Glen Cove to gather material for a piece entitled “The Town Bum” that featured a number of photos of Butch during his daily routine. In addition, a few of Butch’s adventures were chronicled in a full-color comic book. 

Shortly after the Life Magazine photospread appeared, a team from Universal Studios arrived in Glen Cove to film a short feature film about Butch. The film crew followed Butch around for more than a week, but like an actor negotiating a studio contract Butch was somewhat uncooperative.  However, the 8-minute feature film was finally in the can. With much fanfare in the local papers, Butch’s film, “Hobo Hound” premiered at the Cove Theater on Sept. 20, 1946.  Butch was given a makeover befitting a film star like Lassie, and he arrived at the opening in a 1947 Frazer automobile loaned for the occasion by the local dealership. The reluctant star was coaxed to make a brief appearance on stage prior to the screening by the emcee filling his jacket pockets with hamburger meat.  

“Hobo Hound” was viewed in 7,000 theaters throughout the U.S. and in about 80 countries abroad, though a copy of the film has thus far been impossible to locate. To all this hoopla, Butch remained unperturbed with his usual bored expression, only becoming excited when a treat was offered at one of his regular watering holes.

The big dog became ill during the winter of 1947-1948 and was cared for at the animal hospital in Greenvale, which prompted collection boxes to appear at local businesses for donations to Butch’s medical fund. But old age and heart failure caught up with Butch and he passed away in May of 1948.  

The mayor’s office received letters of condolence from all over the country for months following Butch’s death. Funds were collected in Butch’s name by the Glen Cove Lions Club and used for a program to train seeing eye dogs for the blind, and to cast a 20-pound bronze plaque that was dedicated to him at the Glen Street Station.  

Today there are two plaques commemorating Butch. The original plaque that was installed at the Glen Street Station went missing around 1969 and a second bronze plaque was cast in 1970. The original plaque surfaced when a couple in North Merrick realized that the plaque had been in their basement since they bought the home in 1979. It was returned to Glen Cove and placed in the lobby of Glen Cove High School because the student body had continued the fundraising efforts for the training of guide dogs.  

After it was removed from the lobby during a renovation, the plaque was placed in storage, and rediscovered again in 2014. The following year it was donated to the North Shore Historical Museum for exhibit. The second Butch plaque is currently mounted on a large rock in a mini park on Brewster Street.