In the 1974 motion picture “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams” and the corresponding NBC television series, Dan Haggerty played a bear named Ben and a gentle mountain man with a thick beard. Haggerty died in Burbank, California, on Friday.
His age was 73 years old.
Terry Bomar, his manager and friend, said that spine cancer was the cause.
A producer invited Mr. Haggerty, who worked as an animal trainer and stuntman in Hollywood, to recreate parts of the movie’s opening moments, which featured a woodsman and his bear.
The story, which was based on Charles Sellier Jr.’s book “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams,” told the story of a California man who flees the woods after being falsely convicted of murder. There, he tames an abandoned bear and makes friends with the local fauna.
Mr. Haggerty agreed, as long as he could play the entire movie. At last, ticket sales for the film nearly hauled in $30 million after it was redone for $155,000. Subsequently, it was adapted for television, and in February 1977, Mr. Haggerty resumed his role as the forest’s protector and animal friend, with an emphasis on environmental issues.
The New York Times writer John Leonard called the first episode “lukewarm to the heart.” The man and bear who have taken up residence in a log cabin are visited by Mad Jack (Denver Pyle) and the honorable red man Makuma (Don Shanks), who bring bread and advice. As they leave the cabin, the man traps his fur and the bear washes it. Along with a lump in the throat, there’s also a lot of wildlife connection with raccoons, owls, deer, rabbits, hawks, badgers, and cougars.
Mr. Haggerty, who later won the 1978 People’s Choice Award for best new series actor, was won over by viewers of the show because to its cozy and nostalgic appeal. The 1978 television film “Legend of the Wild,” which was eventually shown in theaters in 1981, and the 1982 television film “The Capture of Grizzly Adams,” which followed Adams as he was hauled back to his hometown by bounty hunters in an attempt to clean his record, were the products of “Grizzly Adams.”
Daniel Francis Haggerty was born in Los Angeles on November 19, 1942. His upbringing was challenging following his parents’ divorce when he was three years old, and he frequently broke out of military school. He eventually went into Burbank, California, to live with his actor father.
At seventeen, he was married to Diane Rooker. The marriage ended in divorce. He lost Samantha Hilton, his second wife, in a motorcycle accident in 2008. Don, Megan, Tracy, Dylan, and Cody are his surviving children.
He costarred as body builder Biff alongside Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello in his feature début, “Muscle Beach Party,” released in 1964. Then came appearances in documentaries about the natural world and motorcycling, like “Bearded Biker” and “Biker With Bandana.” He briefly appeared in the movie “Easy Rider” as a guest of Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda in the hippie commune.
On his small ranch in Malibu Canyon, Mr. Haggerty actually housed a variety of wild creatures that he had either tamed from birth or saved from harm. In addition to occasional parts in films, his talents earned him work as an animal trainer and stuntman on the television series Tarzan and Daktari. In 1978, he claimed, “People magazine didn’t like actors jumping on them.”
In his outdoor-themed films, “Where the North Wind Blows” (1974) and “The Adventures of Frontier Fremont” (1976), he played a Siberian tiger trapper. He made an appearance as a dog trainer in the David Carradine film “Americana” (1983). In the 1997 film “Grizzly Mountain” and the 2000 film “Escape to Grizzly Mountain,” he played a character that bore a strong resemblance to Grizzly Adams.
Mr. Haggerty played an inebriated mall Santa in horror films including “Axe Giant: The Wrath of Paul Bunyan” (2013), “Terror Night” (1987), and “Elves” (1989) as his career declined. In 1985, he was sentenced to ninety days in prison for providing cocaine to two undercover police agents.
In 1977, a careless diner with a burning cocktail set fire to Mr. Haggerty’s famous beard. He made a third-degree burn attempt on his arms while attempting to douse the fire. He was admitted to the hospital, where he would probably need a month of therapy.
He told People, “I was like a wounded wolf trying to heal myself for the first few days—I just laid in the dark room drinking water.” “Nurses tried to give me morphine and pushed me to open the curtains.” Sometimes, however, animals know more about medicine than people do. He walked out of the hospital after ten days.
My Neighbor Stole My Dog, Lied to My Face, and Thought I’d Let It Go
What happened after Kristen stole my dog Charlie wasn’t just neighborhood drama. It was justice served with a side of creative revenge that had our entire town talking for months. Some might call it petty. I call it necessary.
I’ve lived in Oakwood Hills for almost twenty years now. It’s your typical small American town where everyone knows your business before you do. The kind of place where gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and having a decent neighbor is worth more than a clean credit score.
A dog standing in a neighborhood | Source: Pexels
“Morning, Sarah!” my elderly neighbor Frank called from across the street as I stepped onto my porch with my morning coffee. “Charlie behaving himself today?”
I smiled and gestured to my golden retriever lounging beside me. “As always. Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
Charlie has been my saving grace these past three years since my divorce from Tom. When your husband of 27 years decides he’s in love with his dental hygienist, a dog becomes more than a pet. Charlie became my therapist, my confidant, and my reason to get out of bed some mornings.
A golden retriever | Source: Pexels
“Mom, you talk about that dog more than you talk about me,” my son Jason jokes during our weekly calls.
He moved to Seattle after college, and while I miss him terribly, I understand. Not much happening in our sleepy town for a 26-year-old with big dreams.
A man standing outside a house | Source: Midjourney
“That’s because Charlie doesn’t forget to call his mother on her birthday,” I teased back last time.
My life was simple but content. Until Kristen moved in next door last spring.
Kristen is 38 going on 21, with a face so full of Botox it barely moves when she talks. She’s like a walking Instagram filter with a personality as authentic as a stock photo. But the worst thing about Kristen? Her magical belief that if she likes something (a handbag, a hairstyle, a man, or apparently, my dog), it automatically belongs to her.
A dog lying on a road | Source: Pexels
“He’s just gorgeous,” she’d gush every time she saw Charlie, reaching over the fence with those long, manicured nails. “I’ve always wanted a golden.”
I should have seen it coming, honestly.
One Tuesday morning, I let Charlie into my fenced backyard to do his business while I packed my lunch for work.
Ten minutes later, he was gone. Vanished.
A fenced backyard | Source: Midjourney
“Charlie?” I called, stepping onto the back porch.
Nothing.
My heart dropped to my stomach as I scanned the yard. The gate was still latched. The fence was intact. It was like he’d evaporated.
I called in sick to work and spent the day searching the neighborhood, knocking on doors, my voice growing hoarser with each “Have you seen my dog?”
A woman walking on a road | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t worry, Sarah,” my friend Diane said as she helped me post flyers around town. “He’s microchipped, right? Someone will find him.”
I posted in local Facebook groups, called shelters, drove up and down every street within a five-mile radius.
Nothing.
Three sleepless nights passed. I’d barely eaten. My son offered to drive down that weekend to help search.
Then, Thursday afternoon, I walked past Kristen’s porch on my way back from checking the shelter yet again.
There he was. Charlie.
A dog with a blue collar | Source: Midjourney
Wearing a new blue collar. Sitting beside her. Wagging his tail like she hadn’t just kidnapped him.
My blood froze in my veins.
“That’s Charlie,” I said as I stopped at the edge of her driveway.
Kristen looked up from her phone, flashing that practiced fake smile.
“Oh, hi Sarah. This is Brandon. My new rescue.”
“No, that’s Charlie. My dog. Who disappeared from my yard three days ago,” I said. “I know it’s him.”
She laughed. “You must be mistaken. My new boyfriend loves goldens, and I’ve owned a golden retriever FOR YEARS.”
At that point, Charlie perked up at the sound of my voice. His tail thumped against her porch boards.
A close-up shot of a dog’s tail | Source: Midjourney
“He recognizes me,” I pointed out, taking a step forward.
Kristen’s hand tightened on his new collar. “A lot of goldens are friendly. That doesn’t mean anything.”
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. “I have photos. Hundreds of them.”
She glanced at the screen, bored. “A lot of goldens look like that.”
“He has a signature birthmark behind his ear. It looks like a heart.” My voice was getting louder now. “Check behind his right ear.”
A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Pexels
“Coincidence. Listen, Sarah, I know you miss your dog, but this is Brandon. I got him from… a friend of a friend upstate.”
That’s when it clicked. She STOLE my dog so her new boyfriend would see what a good “dog lover” she was. My Charlie was just a prop in her dating game.
I could see neighbors peeking through windows, wondering about the commotion. In a small town like ours, this would be prime gossip by dinner time.
I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked away.
I didn’t argue further. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cause a scene.
Instead, I made a plan.
That night, I called Jason and explained everything.
A woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“Mom, call the police!” he exclaimed.
“And say what? That my neighbor has a dog that looks like mine? Without proof, it’s my word against hers.”
“So, you’re just giving up?” He sounded disappointed.
A man talking to his mother on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh no, honey. I’m just getting started.”
The next morning, I drove to Office Depot and printed flyers. Dozens of them. With a message in big bold letters.
“MISSING DOG: CHARLIE
Fluffy heart. Warm nose. Stolen by a woman with no soul.”
Then in smaller print, “Last seen on Kristen Reynolds’ porch at 42 Maple Street. If you’ve seen Charlie, please scan the QR code below.”
Yep. I added a QR code.
A flyer on a wall | Source: Midjourney
My son had helped me build a simple website the night before. It contained photos of Charlie over the years including his adoption day, him in his Halloween hot dog costume, and videos of him sleeping on my lap.
The website also had his adoption certificate with MY name clearly visible, and videos of him doing tricks to my voice commands.
And the best part was the camera footage from my neighbor across the street. It showed Kristen opening my gate, calling Charlie over, and leading him away by the collar.
Thank God for Frank and his obsession with home security.
A security camera | Source: Pexels
By noon, I’d placed flyers on every telephone pole, community board, and car windshield within a mile radius.
That evening, I went a step further.
I ordered twenty helium balloons with Charlie’s face printed on them from a shop two towns over. Rush job, cash payment.
Each balloon said, “I’m not Brandon. I’m a kidnapped dog.”
Around midnight, I tied them to her mailbox, her car, her front porch railing. By dawn, her house looked like a bizarre dog-themed party.
Balloons in front of a house | Source: Midjourney
The neighborhood group chat exploded before breakfast.
“Is that Kristen’s house with all the balloons?” Diane texted, with a photo attached.
Someone shared the website link. “OMG! You all need to see this.”
Another neighbor chimed in, “Didn’t she steal Emma’s hanging plants last spring?”
Even the PTO president Helen commented, “Bold of her to name someone else’s dog after her ex-boyfriend.”
A person using their phone | Source: Pexels
I watched from my kitchen window as Kristen stepped outside around 9 a.m., her face going pale at the sight of the balloons. Her phone must have been blowing up too.
By noon, I heard my back gate squeak. Through the window, I watched as Kristen silently led Charlie into my yard, unclipped his blue collar, and left without a word. No note. No eye contact. Just shame and silence.
The moment she disappeared, I rushed outside. Charlie came bounding across the yard, jumping up to lick my face as I fell to my knees sobbing.
A dog running | Source: Midjourney
“You’re home, baby. You’re finally home,” I whispered into his fur.
Kristen still lives next door. We pass each other sometimes at the mailbox or in the grocery store. But now, people whisper when she walks by. No one asks her to dog-sit. Or plant-sit. Or trust-sit anything ever again.
After everything that happened, I added one last update to the website before taking it down. I uploaded a picture of Charlie with a simple yet strong message, “Charlie is home. Kristen is not welcome to visit.”
A woman using her laptop | Source: Pexels
I learned something powerful through all this.
Some people think kindness is weakness. They think that because you’re polite or older or live alone, you won’t stand up for yourself. But there’s a fire in me that motherhood lit decades ago, and it still burns bright when someone threatens what I love.
Don’t underestimate a woman with time on her hands, love in her heart, and righteous anger in her soul. We don’t just get even. We get creative.
A dog sleeping | Source: Pexels
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