Bull in his fighting quarters and Newfoundland in his vital parts
It was evident to all that the dog had had his day
“Bummer should have died sooner,” The Californian explained, a rare eulogy that failed to utterly beatify its subject. “There was a time when his death would have left a lasting legacy of fame to his name. Now, however, he will be forgotten in a few days.”
The dog had certainly faded from the public light in the two years since his companion died. The writer had continued to report on Bummer’s adventures — albeit with decreasing frequency. At one point, he noted that the dog had even taken a new companion — a a small black puppy — under his wing.
By and large, however, the local press had largely lost interest in the stray by the time of his death. But the eulogy, penned by an oft-prescient 30-year-old reporter who’d recently adopted the pen name ‘Mark Twain,’ missed the mark altogether with regard to the dog’s legacy. Nearly 130 years after Bummer and Lazarus’s respective deaths, a plaque was installed near the Transamerican building, celebrating the lives and adventures of two of San Francisco’s most beloved figures of the 19th century.
Bummer was the first of the pair to achieve note in the city’s press. A black and white Newfoundland mix, contemporary reports described the spirited mutt as a "bull in his fighting quarters and Newfoundland in his vital parts.” By 1860, he established himself as a world class rat killer, setting up shop outside a saloon owned by Frederick Martin, which had become a popular watering hole among the city’s journalists.
The dog’s rat-killing predecessor had been poisoned with strychnine — a fairly common occurrence in a city overrun with strays. But Bummer, who earned his name begging for scraps outside local bars and restaurants, avoided such fate on the strength of his personality and unique skill set.
It was, however, a chance encounter with another dog that cemented his status in city lore. In 1861, Bummer came to the aide of a fellow stray, who suffered a deep leg wound during a fight. Chasing the antagonizer off, Bummer formed a quick bond with the lean and mangy stray.
“Bummer seemed to feel the weight of the responsibility, and regarded his sorry-looking protégé with pity, not unmingled with contempt at his woe-begone appearance,” The Alta California reported. “The two were seen huddled up together in the most fraternal fashion, last night after 12 o’clock."
He was anointed ‘Lazarus’ after recovering from a seemingly deadly wound. The mutt was quickly enlisted in Bummer’s rat-killing capers. In one report, the pair killed 85 rats in 20 minutes. Let loose at a fruit market, they were said to have finished off a total of 400. In the summer of 1862, Lazarus was nabbed by a dog catcher, only to be released back on the streets due to the overwhelming demand of locals.
The Board of Supervisors, which oversaw the deaths of 232 of the 300 dogs captured by animal control that year, made a rare exemption for the pair, who were granted free rein of the city. Two weeks after the incident, Bummer and Lazarus were said to have corralled a runaway horse on Clay Street. Legend has it the dogs were so beloved, they had a standing invitation to the opera every night of the week.
The era’s common distaste for strays made their rise to fame all the more remarkable. “We never knew a city in America so cursed with the canine nuisance as San Francisco,” one contemporary report groused. Ultimately, their fate would not be dissimilar from any other street dog of the era. Lazarus died in 1863. He was believed to have been poisoned by a father seeking revenge after the dog bit his son.
For the next two years, Bummer rarely left the immediate area where his friend spent his final hours. The dog eventually had a run-in with a drunk who kicked him down a flight of stairs. His failing health resulted in numerous reports of a death greatly exaggerated, until Bummer finally succumbed two months after the incident.
“In earlier days he was courted and caressed,” Twain wrote, “but latterly he has lost his comeliness - his dignity had given place to a want of self-respect, which allowed him to practice mean deceptions to regain for a moment that sympathy and notice which had become necessary to his very existence, and it was evident to all that the dog had had his day; his great popularity was gone forever.”
The plaque bearing their story was installed at Redwood Grove Park in 1992. “Their devotion to each other endeared them to the citizenry,” it reads in part. “They belonged to no one person. They belonged to San Francisco.”
Sources:
In 1860, SF followed the every move of its first celebrity family: Bummer and Lazarus the dogs https://www.sfgate.com/local-donotuse/article/1860s-sf-bummer-and-lazarus-legendary-dog-friends-12339100.php
Exit, Bummer http://www.twainquotes.com/bummer.html
How Emperor Norton Rose to Power https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/How-Emperor-Norton-rose-to-power-11042296.php