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Male dog, black, part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie
Owned by Mr. & Mrs. Andy Cawley of Endicott, NY
---
Published: BINGHAMTON PRESS, Binghamton, NY
Feb. 16, 1964, Sunday, p. 3-C
Column of Steve Hambalek
Some of Endicott's most unforgettable characters (and it has had its share of forgettable ones) have been dogs.
One night last week C. Howard Meeker (the U-E school clerk who was the Democratic mayor of Endicott in the early 1940s) got to reminiscing about the late Andy Cawley's dog, Bozo.
The dog was part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie and he was black. He died about 16 years ago at the age of 14. Andy buried him at the LaFrance pet cemetery near Binghamton's Ross Park.
"We are in Swat Sullivan's one night having a good time when Andy gets it in his head that we should go visit Bozo's grave and there is nothing to do but go along with him," Howard said.
ANDY CAWLEY, HEAVEN REST his soul, was a plumber and one of the wittiest and most humorous Cawleys around. He died too soon, at 53, three years ago. Bozo was so smart that Joe Cawley, Andy's father used to say he'd shoot the dog "the day he learns to talk because he knows too much," Helen Cawley, Andy's widow, told us later.
Howard went on to say something like: "Bozo was the only dog Lever knew who rode the buses." "Aw, come now!" a guy said.
Bozo would hop a bus in the eastern part of the village to go looking for Joe and Andy. He'd check every watering hole in North Street, Washington Avenue and East and West Main Street where the Cawleys could possibly be. Mrs. Cawley said that Bozo understood every word he was told or overheard.
There was the afternoon when Andy told her in Bozo's presence that they'd eat out that night — spaghetti at the late Sam Battaglini's Tavern in the Union District. When it came time to go, Bozo was nowhere to be found and they set out without him.
"When we got to Sam's," Mrs. Cawley said, "there on a ledge of the window lay Bozo, waiting for us." BOZO WAS DOGNAPPED A COUPLE of times, she recalled. He disappeared one Election Day and was gone for four or five days.
Harvey Travis of the Bulletin wrote how Bozo had gone out to vote but no one could find out for whom because he's failed to return.
A friend of Andy's spotted Bozo near Apalachin, trotting toward home along Route 17. After some effort, he talked Bozo into his car. There WAS a piece of broken rope at Bozo's collar and his coat was covered with splinters of glass. It was apparent that Bozo had broken the rope and had jumped through a window.
BOZO WAS A BEER DRINKER. In most instances, a light one, and one who knew when he had enough. At such times he'd refuse more, roll over on his back under the table, and go to sleep.
But now and then Bozo overdid and would wake up the next day at home with a bangin' hangin' over. He'd get out of the house, amble over to the neighborhood pub, pound on the door until they let him in — for a hair of the dog that had bitten him the night before.
---
Male dog, black, part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie
Owned by Mr. & Mrs. Andy Cawley of Endicott, NY
---
Published: BINGHAMTON PRESS, Binghamton, NY
Feb. 16, 1964, Sunday, p. 3-C
Column of Steve Hambalek
Some of Endicott's most unforgettable characters (and it has had its share of forgettable ones) have been dogs.
One night last week C. Howard Meeker (the U-E school clerk who was the Democratic mayor of Endicott in the early 1940s) got to reminiscing about the late Andy Cawley's dog, Bozo.
The dog was part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie and he was black. He died about 16 years ago at the age of 14. Andy buried him at the LaFrance pet cemetery near Binghamton's Ross Park.
"We are in Swat Sullivan's one night having a good time when Andy gets it in his head that we should go visit Bozo's grave and there is nothing to do but go along with him," Howard said.
ANDY CAWLEY, HEAVEN REST his soul, was a plumber and one of the wittiest and most humorous Cawleys around. He died too soon, at 53, three years ago. Bozo was so smart that Joe Cawley, Andy's father used to say he'd shoot the dog "the day he learns to talk because he knows too much," Helen Cawley, Andy's widow, told us later.
Howard went on to say something like: "Bozo was the only dog Lever knew who rode the buses." "Aw, come now!" a guy said.
Bozo would hop a bus in the eastern part of the village to go looking for Joe and Andy. He'd check every watering hole in North Street, Washington Avenue and East and West Main Street where the Cawleys could possibly be. Mrs. Cawley said that Bozo understood every word he was told or overheard.
There was the afternoon when Andy told her in Bozo's presence that they'd eat out that night — spaghetti at the late Sam Battaglini's Tavern in the Union District. When it came time to go, Bozo was nowhere to be found and they set out without him.
"When we got to Sam's," Mrs. Cawley said, "there on a ledge of the window lay Bozo, waiting for us." BOZO WAS DOGNAPPED A COUPLE of times, she recalled. He disappeared one Election Day and was gone for four or five days.
Harvey Travis of the Bulletin wrote how Bozo had gone out to vote but no one could find out for whom because he's failed to return.
A friend of Andy's spotted Bozo near Apalachin, trotting toward home along Route 17. After some effort, he talked Bozo into his car. There WAS a piece of broken rope at Bozo's collar and his coat was covered with splinters of glass. It was apparent that Bozo had broken the rope and had jumped through a window.
BOZO WAS A BEER DRINKER. In most instances, a light one, and one who knew when he had enough. At such times he'd refuse more, roll over on his back under the table, and go to sleep.
But now and then Bozo overdid and would wake up the next day at home with a bangin' hangin' over. He'd get out of the house, amble over to the neighborhood pub, pound on the door until they let him in — for a hair of the dog that had bitten him the night before.
---
---
Male dog, black, part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie
Owned by Mr. & Mrs. Andy Cawley of Endicott, NY
---
Published: BINGHAMTON PRESS, Binghamton, NY
Feb. 16, 1964, Sunday, p. 3-C
Column of Steve Hambalek
Some of Endicott's most unforgettable characters (and it has had its share of forgettable ones) have been dogs.
One night last week C. Howard Meeker (the U-E school clerk who was the Democratic mayor of Endicott in the early 1940s) got to reminiscing about the late Andy Cawley's dog, Bozo.
The dog was part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie and he was black. He died about 16 years ago at the age of 14. Andy buried him at the LaFrance pet cemetery near Binghamton's Ross Park.
"We are in Swat Sullivan's one night having a good time when Andy gets it in his head that we should go visit Bozo's grave and there is nothing to do but go along with him," Howard said.
ANDY CAWLEY, HEAVEN REST his soul, was a plumber and one of the wittiest and most humorous Cawleys around. He died too soon, at 53, three years ago. Bozo was so smart that Joe Cawley, Andy's father used to say he'd shoot the dog "the day he learns to talk because he knows too much," Helen Cawley, Andy's widow, told us later.
Howard went on to say something like: "Bozo was the only dog Lever knew who rode the buses." "Aw, come now!" a guy said.
Bozo would hop a bus in the eastern part of the village to go looking for Joe and Andy. He'd check every watering hole in North Street, Washington Avenue and East and West Main Street where the Cawleys could possibly be. Mrs. Cawley said that Bozo understood every word he was told or overheard.
There was the afternoon when Andy told her in Bozo's presence that they'd eat out that night — spaghetti at the late Sam Battaglini's Tavern in the Union District. When it came time to go, Bozo was nowhere to be found and they set out without him.
"When we got to Sam's," Mrs. Cawley said, "there on a ledge of the window lay Bozo, waiting for us." BOZO WAS DOGNAPPED A COUPLE of times, she recalled. He disappeared one Election Day and was gone for four or five days.
Harvey Travis of the Bulletin wrote how Bozo had gone out to vote but no one could find out for whom because he's failed to return.
A friend of Andy's spotted Bozo near Apalachin, trotting toward home along Route 17. After some effort, he talked Bozo into his car. There WAS a piece of broken rope at Bozo's collar and his coat was covered with splinters of glass. It was apparent that Bozo had broken the rope and had jumped through a window.
BOZO WAS A BEER DRINKER. In most instances, a light one, and one who knew when he had enough. At such times he'd refuse more, roll over on his back under the table, and go to sleep.
But now and then Bozo overdid and would wake up the next day at home with a bangin' hangin' over. He'd get out of the house, amble over to the neighborhood pub, pound on the door until they let him in — for a hair of the dog that had bitten him the night before.
---
Male dog, black, part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie
Owned by Mr. & Mrs. Andy Cawley of Endicott, NY
---
Published: BINGHAMTON PRESS, Binghamton, NY
Feb. 16, 1964, Sunday, p. 3-C
Column of Steve Hambalek
Some of Endicott's most unforgettable characters (and it has had its share of forgettable ones) have been dogs.
One night last week C. Howard Meeker (the U-E school clerk who was the Democratic mayor of Endicott in the early 1940s) got to reminiscing about the late Andy Cawley's dog, Bozo.
The dog was part scottie, part shepherd but mostly scottie and he was black. He died about 16 years ago at the age of 14. Andy buried him at the LaFrance pet cemetery near Binghamton's Ross Park.
"We are in Swat Sullivan's one night having a good time when Andy gets it in his head that we should go visit Bozo's grave and there is nothing to do but go along with him," Howard said.
ANDY CAWLEY, HEAVEN REST his soul, was a plumber and one of the wittiest and most humorous Cawleys around. He died too soon, at 53, three years ago. Bozo was so smart that Joe Cawley, Andy's father used to say he'd shoot the dog "the day he learns to talk because he knows too much," Helen Cawley, Andy's widow, told us later.
Howard went on to say something like: "Bozo was the only dog Lever knew who rode the buses." "Aw, come now!" a guy said.
Bozo would hop a bus in the eastern part of the village to go looking for Joe and Andy. He'd check every watering hole in North Street, Washington Avenue and East and West Main Street where the Cawleys could possibly be. Mrs. Cawley said that Bozo understood every word he was told or overheard.
There was the afternoon when Andy told her in Bozo's presence that they'd eat out that night — spaghetti at the late Sam Battaglini's Tavern in the Union District. When it came time to go, Bozo was nowhere to be found and they set out without him.
"When we got to Sam's," Mrs. Cawley said, "there on a ledge of the window lay Bozo, waiting for us." BOZO WAS DOGNAPPED A COUPLE of times, she recalled. He disappeared one Election Day and was gone for four or five days.
Harvey Travis of the Bulletin wrote how Bozo had gone out to vote but no one could find out for whom because he's failed to return.
A friend of Andy's spotted Bozo near Apalachin, trotting toward home along Route 17. After some effort, he talked Bozo into his car. There WAS a piece of broken rope at Bozo's collar and his coat was covered with splinters of glass. It was apparent that Bozo had broken the rope and had jumped through a window.
BOZO WAS A BEER DRINKER. In most instances, a light one, and one who knew when he had enough. At such times he'd refuse more, roll over on his back under the table, and go to sleep.
But now and then Bozo overdid and would wake up the next day at home with a bangin' hangin' over. He'd get out of the house, amble over to the neighborhood pub, pound on the door until they let him in — for a hair of the dog that had bitten him the night before.
---
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