Before he was Big Dog in the fire station, he was Big Fella because of his giant frame and Bigfoot because of his size 15 boots. Before there was the dog food in his spaghetti, there was the noose draped over his station locker and the white flour sprinkled in his bed.
And before Tennie Pierce became the Los Angeles Fire Department's $2.7-million man -- a symbol of racial discrimination to some and political correctness gone wrong to others -- he was an ordinary firefighter, who had spent 17 years pledging allegiance to the department's notion of brotherhood.
That allegiance began unraveling two years ago, when a firefighter at Pierce's Westchester station mixed dog food into his dinner -- a practical joke intended to "humble" him, the department's investigative report said, for "declaring himself Big Dog" in a volleyball game.
Pierce sued the city for racial harassment last year, after enduring what he describes as months of taunts and retaliation. The City Council voted to settle his case for $2.7 million last month, but, after a public uproar, Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa vetoed the settlement.
Pierce's claim and its repercussions -- a respected fire department unmasked; a popular fire chief dispatched; a racially divided populace at odds -- unhinged the city and unmoored the man.
"I didn't expect it to go the way it went," said Pierce, whose public claim and private life -- from his work habits to the state of his marriage -- provided weeks of fodder for talk radio programs. Hosts such as John Kobylt and Ken Chiampou on KFI-AM (640) fielded dozens of calls from disgruntled white firefighters, who castigated Pierce for "playing the race card" and produced photos of him joining in the hazing of others.
The storm took Pierce by surprise. "I always felt I was part of a great brotherhood," he said. "I know I have always been upright and fair. When I see how the masses turned on me...." He shrugs his giant shoulders and stares at the floor.
For some, he's become a caricature -- a big, strong, black man brought down by a couple of bites of dog food. But to his friends and family, the reality is considerably more complicated.
"The Fire Department was Tennie's life," said L.A. firefighter and friend Johnny Green. "He would much rather be at work than going through this foolishness."
