In 1971 my attorney told those who refused to move out of our home on 40 Anderson Street, a four story building on Beacon Hill, to move to the top floor for our safety. I was in a legal battle with the brother-in-law of the head of Boston’s Mafia, and they were losing. This guy was a top-notch attorney. The owner of the grocery store down the street who liked me, said;

“They want their building back. They will hurt you.”

When I heard the door being kicked in on the main floor, I rushed downstairs to find the door to the old managers appartement knocked off its hinges. Then I heard the awful sound of the squatter’s three month old black lab having its throat cut. I shouted;

“Get out there!”

There was silence, and then this question;

“Are you the manager?”

“Yes! Get out!”

“You come in here!”