Never Too Old

Any veteran copper knows to never take any situation for granted. Just because a suspect is handcuffed doesn't mean he is not still dangerous. A copper has to be ready to do battle at an moment's notice.

In the big city, normal conversation is used more often than the 10 series codes used by so many police departments. Telling an officer "a 10-33 in progress" will likely get a "say what?" response.

When an officer is in trouble and needs immediate help all he needs to say is "10-1" and his location. Every copper in the immediate area will fly to the aid of an officer in danger, no matter what agency it is that needs the help.

The other day one such call came over the air and when this big city copper got there there were eight or more officers already on the scene and the offender was on the floor being handcuffed. The situation was under control. Officers not involved drifted away and left the scene. It was in a third floor stairwell where the action had occurred so the arresting officer decided to use the elevator to take the prisoner down rather than walk him down the stairs. Another copper and I decided to stick around to make sure they got in the elevator okay.

The suspect had a friend waiting. The man saw his buddy being walked to the elevator and jumped at the leading officer punching and kicking at him. The handcuffed man head butted and kicked at the second officer. We trailed a few feet behind and saw it coming. I went at the handcuffed guy while the other copper chose the other guy. I was able to avoid his kicks and head butts and helped drag him back to the cement floor. After a brief but intense struggle he stopped fighting. The other coppers managed to control and subdue the second attacker.

We finally got the offenders down to the street and into separate cage cars. None of the officers suffered injuries. Unfortunately, I'll need a new pair of glasses. The frames broke and a lens cracked.

Well I was due a new pair anyway but I'm getting too old to be wrasslin' with bad guys! Hell I didn't even need to use glasses until I turned forty.

Until a copper stops working the street though, he 's never too old to step into crap when it's least expected.

And I'm not ready to give up the street yet.

More "good old days" action.

The team had been watching the dope house for days. One of the young officers had made several controlled "buys" and they had enough evidence for a search warrant.

The house was kept under surveillance while the team Sgt prepared the plan for the "home invasion" style raid. All the team officers were given their assignments both primary and contingency. The coppers were all experienced tactical officers who had raided many dope houses in the past. They knew every raid had to be precise yet fluid enough that any unknown obstacle could be overcome when necessary. The entry teams had to take the front and rear doors simultaneously as the support team created diversions at any windows. The take down team had to enter and secure any occupants upon entering. It all had to be done rapidly with the maximum effort to avoid casualties.

The undercover officer approached the house for one more "buy". This established the availability of narcotics in the house and increased the probability of a successful raid. The teams were staged and waiting for the "go" from the Sgt. The undercover officer was given a few minutes to leave the area then the signal was given.

The street and alley was suddenly filled with police cars as the teams rushed to their positions. The entry teams "knocked" on the doors with their sledge hammers and "chicago bars" (a pry bar used by police and fire personnel). The support teams smashed windows and announced their presence to discourage any escape attempts.

The front door team was having trouble. The door was solid and had a steel reinforced frame. The team leader radioed the problem. The copper assigned to the front basement window had gained entry. He jumped into the room and landed in front of a man who had been watching "Gomer Pyle" on TV. The shocked man jumped up from the couch and ran towards the rear of the basement. The copper heard the radio and realized he was the only copper in the house. All of the doors and windows had bars except for the one he had smashed open. He quickly radioed he was in and ran towards the rear with gun drawn and ready. The fleeing suspect was at the back of the basement trying to shove bags of dope out of the house through an opening in the wall. The copper challenged him, using the old ".45 held to the back of the head" method. The rest of the team had begun to come through the window and was rushing up the stairs to secure the remaining occupants. A large amount of dope was recovered. Several guns were stuffed into the couch cushions where three men had been seated. The ability to improvise and adapt resulted in a successful raid.

Numerous search warrants were served in this manner by the local district tactical teams. That was the old days. The big city police has since changed the way warrants are executed. The S.W.A.T. teams are full time dedicated positions and execute warrants on a daily basis. It's now definitely a young man's job.

It sure was fun though.

The good old days

We were waiting around before roll call the other day and, as coppers do, started to talk about the "old days." Coppers love to talk, especially, about the good times.

The stories were, properly embellished, funny as could be. Of course this led to the gory tales then the sad ones.

That's the trouble with opening up the memory vault, one never knows what will be stirred up. For me it was a pleasant mish mash of everything....

The early days of running and gunning before they thought of making the police account for their ammo.

The amazement of listening to white Irish guys speaking and understanding ghetto jive like it was their first language then reverting back without missing a breath.

Trying a pig ear sandwich one day, a jew town polish the next, then a bowl of menudo the day after that.

Giving good looking girls a ticket you can see them again in court.

Catching a wanted suspect then hearing him complain that I had violated the "code" by going after him on Sunday when he was walking his mother to church.

Seeing your first murder victim, then becoming jaded after ten or so.

Realizing what a bunch of liars police sometimes have to be to solve a problem.

Finding humor in the strangest places.

Finding out there are good honest people living full decent lives under the most trying circumstances.

Finding ways to help these good honest people whenever possible.

The real thrill of making an arrest that actually solves a crime and seeing the victim or the family happy.

Feeling the pain of loss when a fellow officer is hurt or killed.

Remembering how the number of officer's killed dropped dramatically after the city issued body armor.

Meeting girls.

Laughing about how, instead of bragging about women, we now discuss the last good meal we had and whether it was free or half price.

Meeting the president.

Realizing how much fun it is being the police.

Here are some leftover pictures from various episodes.

Against my own rules I posted my I D picture. I am second from the left in the first photo and in the background of the last one.

To Your Health

It was a crappy winter day as most days in January always are. The snow had been falling for the past two days. The roads were slippery and moving slow as, well, molasses in January.

The call comes from the station. A fellow officer, a sergeant actually, had gone to the emergency room with severe chest pains. He drove himself to the hospital while on patrol so it must have been fearful enough that he didn't call anybody, not even the dispatcher.

It took twenty minutes to drive two miles. Crappy weather, crappy road conditions, crappy thoughts. Most of the officers in the unit are veterans. That means years of street food, stress, and less than healthy lifestyles. Perfect heart attack conditions.

There were three of the guys at the E.R. already. Big city coppers. All ready for bad news.

"No wallet" says one. "Did you check his socks?" replied another. "He usually carries a "choke" on him somewhere. Didja see a money belt?" The third is writing "colonoscopy" on the status board next to the bed.

The ailing sergeant, awake and alert, laughs. "You guys are EFFIN vultures" "I ain't going anywhere!"

In the hard, cynical, and macho police world coppers won't admit they truly care about each other so they break the tension with their own unique humor.

The fates were smiling that day too. It wasn't a heart attack but it provided a wake up call for some of the guys.

Life's short enough as it is. Get healthy and stay healthy. Spend a little money on healthier food choices. Get some exercise.

You don't want some copper looking through YOUR clothes for that "choke" do you?

Call off the hounds, I'm back.

Returning from a nice long vacation, where I traveled to parts of the world that few ever think of visiting, I felt renewed, even happy to be back to work.

The natural cynicism of a big city copper meant when one got too much enjoyment out of something it had to break down, go bad, get ugly.

Tragedy struck the police family again and again, all around the country, Oakland, Seattle, Lakewood, Pittsburgh, heck everywhere, I suddenly felt my spirit go numb.

Going to work lost it's beauty.

This was a horrible experience.

The spirit, the beauty, of being a copper is what made it all worthwhile.

Every copper, deputy, officer, five oh, po po, detective, marshall, whatever you guys and girls call each other, knows what I mean.

The job can become a wicked ugly thing.

There has to be a sense of purpose, a love of the street, a craving for the adrenaline rush, for a good copper to survive the years and years of grief it takes to collect the pension.

Without a true love of the spirit and energy it takes to make the job the fulfilling vocation it should be, the evil can take over and ruin a copper's soul.

Fortunately, good friends, good coppers, and good sense revealed the demon to the light.

People noticed the Big City Copper blog was dormant. Questions where asked. "Where are you? Why are you so silent?"

You gotta love those friends that noticed these things and cared enough to say something.

I still love the job, just not so much any more.

The pension light is visible and not so far off in that tunnel.

I know now that I'm leaving the police world in 18 months or so. I'll be maxxed out in pension, wisdom, and spiritual effectiveness.

I'll miss it but health and sanity is a beautiful thing too.

For now though, I'm back.

A slow day

Every copper knows every day police work can be slow and filled with mundane tasks. That is what the big city copper has experienced since returning from vacation. Oh, the usual stuff goes on, like watching an SUV roll over trying to avoid the crash that was already blocking two lanes of traffic. The idiot barely looked up in time to avoid killing the responders already there. Like I said, every day stuff.

While most coppers are having a good day, others found the hands of fate needed to amuse themselves. Good honest officers found their fate in the hands of murderers. Lakewood, Washington followed closely by Pittsburgh Pa. had officers slain. There might even be more since I read the news last.

Is it a form of survivors guilt to feel bad? Being unable to attend the memorials of these guys saddened me. I sent a small token and prayers for the families instead.

I hope to continue having boring slow days.

Winter and fire safety

The onset of cold weather reminded the big city copper of some of the worst memories of a copper's experience. Fires.

True, the fire department does all the fire fighting and are the usual "heroes" but more times than not it is a copper or two that are the first to arrive and get involved.

One night two young coppers were responding to a disturbance in a large apartment building. They stepped off the elevator and into a smoked filled hallway. They turned the corner and saw a bucket of tar with a mop. Further on was an apartment door on fire with the flames spreading to the ceiling. Seeing flames spreading across a ceiling was a shock. There had to be ten apartments on this floor and the building was at least twenty stories high.

They put in the emergency call for help and began to pound on apartment doors. The tenants, realizing the danger , began to gather their families and head for the stairs. Several helped to warn their neighbors.

The sound of sirens announced the arrival of help. The coppers went to the top floor and pounded on doors. They assisted as many people as they could find. The fire spread rapidly so the coppers had to get out.

The street was filled with fire equipment, ambulances, and police cars. The coppers had saved a few lives by their quick reactions. They were exhausted and had breathed in smoke so were driven to the hospital to get checked out.

The fire and evacuation was intense but the real trauma was in the ER. The coppers were taken immediately. A nurse approached with the nastiest looking needle the copper had ever seen. "This might hurt a little" was an understatement. She inserted the needle into the coppers wrist to obtain arterial blood in order to check for carbon monoxide. She missed the artery and had to look for it by moving the needle around while in the wrist. The most intense pain the copper had ever felt almost made him vomit. The code prevented him from crying like a little girl especially since the screams from the next room were from the copper's female partner.

The nurse finally ended the torture and got her blood. The copper went and puked in private. The partner wept without embarrassment. They had done their job and saved some lives. The boss said nice job. No medals or accolades, just respect from the guys and girls on the watch.

The worst part of fire jobs was the casualties. The firemen find them and bring them out but coppers do the paper job and follow up.

Seeing fire victims on the clean white gurney at the morgue didn't make it any easier to do the job. In order to see a body burned beyond recognition or children burst open like plumper hot dogs, a copper needed to flip the switch that let him step out of his self and be the professional he needed to be. When a copper suppressed all emotion, the experience was fascinating. The smell wasn't any worse than burnt meat and burned beyond recognition really meant what it implied. Gender identification was visibly impossible but every muscle was clearly visible.

Thank goodness for the ability to suppress emotions.

Practice and preach fire safety.

Justice served.

Big city and small town coppers everywhere who are mourning our fallen heroes can rest a little easier today.

A fellow copper found the bastard who killed our brothers and sister and sent him to hell.

Now everyone knows the big city copper is all about ethics, morals, and justice but God fearing values meant nothing to the man that attacked our law enforcement family.

The families of the fallen wept.

A civil society demanded this evil not go unpunished.

The code of the street copper screamed for fierce reprisal.

We have prevailed.

Donations to the families are being taken on line at the Lakewood Police Independent Guild.

Please give generously. Support your L.E. family in their time of grief.

Rest in Peace Brothers.

All police officers mourn along with Lakewood, Washington P.D. Our hearts go out to our brothers, our heroes. Rest in Peace

Do your own work.

There are lots of things a young copper has to learn that is not taught in the academy and has to be learned by experience. One very important thing to be learned is, to keep some pooch copper from stealing a good arrest you gotta do your own paper work. It happens to young officers all the time.

A young copper and his partner were checking a burglar alarm at a school late one night and noticed an open window. They climbed in and began to do a room by room search. They were alerted by noise coming from the main office. They sneaked into the room and surprised a burglar prying open a desk drawer. The offender wisely surrendered.

The young officers were FNG's and didn't have much experience in processing a felony pinch. They called in two of the older guys who worked a crime car in plain clothes and asked for help with the arrest. They figured they would share the credit and gain some knowledge at the same time.

Well you can guess what happened. By the time the paperwork was done the young coppers weren't even on the scene except for transporting the offender. The young coppers realized they had let a good pinch get taken from them. There was no recourse, the sergeant shrugged and said "ya gotta learn to do your own work guys". Good street coppers are very competitive and hustle to get the good arrest but only assholes steal them from other policemen. It was a valuable lesson the young guys learned that day.

Another incident was even worse. A man intent on suicide was sitting on the roof ledge of a five story building. A friend was trying to talk him down. Two big city coppers and a fireman went up in a FD snorkel bucket at the rear of the building. Quietly, they approached the man and grabbed him from the ledge. The man began fighting and trying to go over the ledge. He was wrestled from the roof and onto the bucket. He fought all the way down. The man was admitted to the psych ward of the hospital and the coppers were recommended for a life saving award for their heroism.

A month or so later at the monthly awards ceremony, (lots of heroic stuff going on in the big city) the presenter called out three names for the award. The two officers and the fireman right? Guess again! The Beat officer that had written up the incident had included himself as part of the save. He posed with the officers as if he had earned the medal. It was embarrassing. His wife was smiling so proudly at him though that it was better to leave it be.

These incidents are good examples of why coppers should do their own work especially if you want it done right.

The grand finale to the big city copper's middle east vacation was a visit to Petra and the Dead Sea. This was actually considered part of the Holy Land just not the christian part of it.

Petra was a fascinating archeologic wonder. Several ancient buildings carved into the mountains were featured in one of the Indiana Jones movies. The tour guide played a recording of the IJ theme song as we approached the sight. (Cheesy dramatics, no matter where you go.)

The Dead Sea was a marvel to see. It is 200 meters below sea level and extremely salty. Nothing grows in the water. It felt caustic and any scratches or open skin suffered for it. The mud baths were smelly but supposedly have healing properties.

The pillar of salt of Lot's wife and her camel were fun to see. (Too bad the camel looked back too)

This is obviously a brief recap of an enormous adventure and I know I haven't done justice to a great trip but it was a whirlwind tour with not much time to really appreciate it all.

Returning to the USA was actually a relief. Some areas especially near the airport at Amman,Jordan were definitely highly secured. Armored vehicles with .50 caliber machineguns mounted sat at various intersections.

After a long 15 hour flight, it was good to get home.

Getting back to work will be a chore though, A copper can get used to a life of leisure and travel.

We traveled along the coast of the arabian gulf stopping in Sharjah to pick up two more adventurers, a young female french socialist and an older german tourist. The ride to the border of Oman took us through several towns and villages. Several times we had to stop for the livestock in the roadway. Our driver says the goats and cows know where they live and eventually make their way home. Saves the need for a shepherd, I guess.

We arrived at the border between Oman and the UAE. It was easy to pass through and exit the UAE once we provided the officials with the fee and our passports. We repeated the procedure at the entry side into Oman. The scenery didn't change much, desert and mountains to one side and the blue waters of the gulf of Oman. After passing through more fishing villages we arrived at a small cove where a few Dhows were wharfed. We boarded ours and settled in for a casual cruise into the fiords that knifed into the mountains.

We sailed through the fiords stopping at islands and villages. We saw ruins of a British fort on Telegraph Island. Another ruin was of a portugese fort long abandoned. The boat stopped in a cove for lunch and snorkeling. Lunch was typical Omani food, fish, rice, a soup, sweet tea and flat bread. It was delicious.

The dhows were constantly followed by dolphins that swam and played around racing through the wake of the boat. It was late in the afternoon and nearing dusk when we finally docked and headed back to the city.

The adventure to the middle east continued to get better. Our next stop was to travel to Jordan and see the Holy Land from the West Bank of the Dead Sea.

On vacation...

What an adventure!

The non stop flight from the big city to Abu Dhabi should have taken 15 hours at most. But NOOOOOOOO! Some poor sap got sick somewhere approaching Greece. Did the flight continue to Athens maybe? No the pilot turned the plane around and backtracked to Milan, Italy. Wow! Italy. They at least opened the doors so we could breath some fresh air as we sat on the tarmac for four hours. So when you hear a big city copper brag about when "I was in Milan...." you can call him on it. The flight finally made it to Abu Dhabi at one in the morning, five hours behind schedule.

Normally, the big city copper is all about adventuring. The ability to adapt and improvise is one of my prized assets but after eight hours or so the "quaintness" faded fast. The plane was filled to capacity. The seats in coach were cramped and uncomfortable. There were too many squalling babies. The whole thing began to look and feel like the chicken and goat buses I've ridden. You know the ones you see in the third world documentaries. Mercifully, passing through customs and immigration was a breeze and the hour's drive to Dubai was uneventful.

The next day was spent at the pool, enjoying my grandkids, and napping. (to fight off the jet lag) Tomorrow, the adventure continues. A boat ride through the straits of Hormuz and into the country of Oman is the planned tour.

I'll let you know how it went. I will hopefully impress you with some good photos too but that will have to wait till we return.

On vacation

The big city copper is going out of town for a few weeks. This was last years visit to Dubai.

I am returning for another visit to see my grandkids. I'll try to post from there but I can't promise I will.

A camel ride on the shore of the Persian Gulf. Hot Hot Hot at least 115 degrees.

The mind wanders....

The life of a big city copper is full of excitement, adventure, and drama. It is also boring , full of mundane tasks that take up too much time.

Paperwork for instance, everything used to be a form set. Fill in the blanks, write up a narrative, you're done. The new, modern, police department is electronic and digital. The report any copper could fill out in ten minutes now takes over an hour. Sometimes it takes a half hour of waiting just to use the computer. Each officer has to log in, choose the proper report, and begin typing. Sounds easy right? Listen to this. Type, tab, type again, tab, oops, not the proper format for the date, do over. Type some more, tab, uh oh you better hit the save application every few minutes or the whole thing vanishes and you have to start over again. How many old time coppers type using more than two fingers on each hand? A simple "he jumped on me" arrest that used to take a half hour (twenty minutes if it was quitting time) now takes over an hour or longer. (Say OVERTIME, baby)

The whole thing was supposed to save paper right? The old arrest report was a five page form set with carbon paper and each page was distributed to the necessary unit. The electronic arrest report now spits out a ten or more page printout and each unit now gets a complete package rather than a one page copy. They still require copies of everything. The archives room at the station is overflowing with boxes of paperwork with no end in sight.

Even the goriest murder was still just a paper job to the Beat copper. Fill in the blanks, write up a half way intelligent narrative, note all the phone call notifications, then turn it over to the Dicks. (They teach them how to type at detective school.)

The very first homicide of copper's career can be very dramatic. A young man was executed in an alley with a bullet to the back of his head in broad daylight. The family of the victim was crying and screaming. A brother of the dead guy held him, crying. He kissed the victim full on the lips then lowered him to the pavement as the police took over. Unsure of how to proceed, the rookie copper stared around trying to sort out the chaos. Luckily, the field training officer said "relax, it's only a paper job. Call for the crime lab and the dicks."

A couple of years and many crime scenes later, a young officer was getting frantic. A woman had been met at the back door to her boyfriends house by a shotgun blast to the face. With most of her head splashed into the back yard (a cat was feasting on brain matter), she was in a sitting position against the railing of the porch. Her body was still gasping for air (the well storied death rattle). The young officer wanted to call an ambulance. "Relax, she's dead already. She just don't know it yet. Besides it's only a paper job" remarked, the now grizzled three year veteran.

Sorry about that, the mind wandered a bit there. Modern technology is slow to catch on in the big city. There are bosses who still want to see paper copies of reports they can review before they will okay them to be submitted electronically. Instead of easing the workload it actually doubled it. Go figure. Old dogs and new tricks comes to mind.

All this muttering is really the agitation a copper gets when a furlough is approaching. Those last few days before a vacation starts are very difficult to endure. A few days of relaxation, laying in the sun, sipping on umbrella drinks, and eyeing the thong bikinis will ease the tension. Unless, of course, you're going with your own spouse then don't forget to take the mirrored shades and suck in your gut!! Your spouse will never notice.

Of course the big city copper is all about morality and solid family values (watch for the lightning bolt) so a visit with the grandkids is this years epic adventure. Mirrored glasses and pretending to be cool is not necessary.

Next year? DA BEACH, DA BEACH, we're going to DA BEACH!!!

How will you go?

One of the guys didn't show up for roll call. I figured he was caught in traffic or overslept so I called his cell phone. There was no answer. I left a message. I called his home number. No luck. Now I'm getting concerned. Is he still in bed with the phone turned off. Is he passed out on the floor drunk? Or is gasping his last breath from a stroke or heart attack and dying. (Coppers never think of sunshine and blue skies do they?)

The other sergeant and I decided to do a "check the well being" visit to his house. The boss sent the other guy on another caper so I went alone. His car was parked in front of his building. I sniffed the air for that telltale odor of death as I approached the door. So far so good, no stench of rotting flesh assailed my nostrils.

Peering into the window, I was startled by the door suddenly opening. The officer was grinning from ear to ear. "Hey Sarge, what's up?" I explained my concern for his health since he didn't show up for work. He laughed and asked, "didn't the el tee tell you? I RETIRED!"

A sudden burst of happiness quickly replaced my initial shock. I offered and received a strong handshake followed by a back slapping embrace. He happily displayed a "Retired" star and ID card.

"Nobody said anything." I remarked. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I wanted to quietly walk away" was his response.

I congratulated him, told him he would be missed, and wished him well. Back in the car, I went on the air and informed the dispatcher. She broadcast the news to everyone and the well wishes began. It was heartwarming. The sad thing is that in a few months, coppers will say "remember that guy? I can see his face but I can't remember his name."

I drove away thinking of that day when I will not show up to work.

"Aw hell no," I said aloud.

I want to walk around the station bragging about how many days I have left. "Only ten more," I'll boast. "Get your party hats ready." "Five and a wake-up!" YES!

FANFARE! That's what I want. I don't care whether it's pizza, balloons and clowns or cheap booze, strippers and mariachi music. I won't, I refuse to go quietly.

For sacrificing a normal life to countless night shifts, working holidays, and witnessing the miseries of the street; I want a happy ending. For burying more brother officers than I can remember; I would like to be appreciated. For shedding blood as well as dignity to protect the uncaring masses; I think I deserve it.

I think we all deserve it.

Cold weather brings...

The weather has been dreary the last few days. Rain, mist, more rain, and cold winds makes most people feel lousy. Just getting out of bed is a chore. This is typical big city October weather. The worse of it is that it doesn't get any much better. Oh, there are a few decent sunny days around the Thanksgiving holiday but that's it. Once the bad weather starts there's no relief until next May.

The general rule for police officers has always been "A good officer never gets wet, cold, or hungry!" There are always exceptions to any rule.

A few years ago, before civilians took over intersection traffic control duties, junior officers were detailed to the stadium for sports events. Football and soccer games are played in any weather short of tornados or hurricanes. These fans are insane. They come out in the most horrible weather instead of watching the game in the comfort of their home or favorite tavern. Young coppers had to stand in the rain, sleet, and snow directing the flow of traffic out of the arena parking lots. It was impossible to stay dry and warm with sleet blowing in your face for an hour. The best masks, gloves, and scarves available in those days didn't last very long.

The big city is socked with huge blizzards almost every winter. The pattern is the same every storm. Piles of deep drifting snow then a plunge into deep freezing temperatures immediately after the sky clears. This cold can reach arctic like conditions, often as low as -25 degrees. A cold so bitter that car motors and people both freeze up solid. Morning sometimes finds cars stranded on the roads and homeless people frozen where they tried to find shelter. Not everyone seeks out the city's help.

The extremely cold weather does chase the criminals off the street. After a day or so, the cabin fever kicks in and the indoor disturbances start. Coppers often have to park the patrol car on the main street and walk to the location of the job through the snow. The problems are often resolved while standing around the lit stove. Everyone, including the officers, warm their hands over the lit burners. Not many people are put out on those frigid nights. The combatants, unless they go to jail, are usually willing to wait for a warmer day to resume the hate.

In between assignments, officers return to the station to run their personal cars for twenty minutes in order to be able to drive home after the tour is over.

Winter in the big city is when police work is the most challenging. It's not easy getting motivated when the sidewalk and driveway has to be cleared of a foot of snow just to get to the street. A running start is then necessary to make it off the side road to the main street. If the main street has been plowed, an officer might make it to work at a reasonable hour.

AHHHH life in the big city!

Winter in the big city? BLAHHHH.

The faded thin blue line

Many years ago in the big city, there were police officers that lived on the edge of copper society. They did their duty and protected each other but there existed a fine line between the good guys and the bad.

Every one knew who took money from traffic stops. Some were blatant and bragged about it, others were more discreet. Some preyed on the immigrant population. They relied on the fear of the police in their own country to pay a bribe without complaining. An officer, rumored to carry large sums of traffic money in his socks, failed to come in at the end of his shift one morning. The entire day shift went looking for him, not concerned for his safety, but racing to find him first to clean out his "choke".

In those days drunks were tolerated, sometimes even protected. The legendary "blue line" actually existed. Police officers did not talk to outsiders about what went on within the job. The drinkers were just overlooked as long as they stayed out of trouble. Most often the new guys , the young recruits, had to take their turn riding with the drunks.

Young officers had no say in the matter. The problem officer was usually very senior to the young copper and would grab the car keys, telling the rookie, "I'll drive kid." The first stop was usually the liquor store or bar. The drunk would leave the rookie in the car, saying "I'll be right out." Several minutes later, the older officer returned with a bag. Afraid of getting in trouble with the job but also leery of being called a rat, the young kid said nothing.

These problem officers were professional drunks. They drove around all night, threw beer cans out the window, and usually managed to steer clear of danger. With an uncanny, although blurred eye, they were good at spotting trouble blocks away then going the other way. They even offered to share their booze with the partner (after the third or fourth can, of course). The young copper had no choice but to say a silent prayer and wait for the morning. Two shifts riding with the drunk was usually the limit. The guy making the duty roster was good about shifting him around.

Before the development of the random drug testing program, the dopers were also well known. These officers were more secretive and only gathered with other pot smokers. Police cars parked door to door in a vacant lot wasn't always officers discussing strategy. There were instances of drinkers and dopers riding together in an attempt to keep the problem officers out of trouble. They worked hard at avoiding assignments which meant other officers had to carry their weight.

Keeping track of ammunition was not always a high priority in those days. The gunfire heard at night wasn't always the bad guys shooting. The were rumors of officers carrying small caliber guns for hunting rats on slow nights. Officers responding to calls of "shots being fired" were sometimes met by other police who were "close by". Shots fired outside a bar sometimes were waved off as not bone fide when drunk off duty guys were suspected of putting out the street lights.

Police parties were famous for poker games at one table, dice games in the corner, and drunken bimbo's offering their services in the back. Of course wives and husbands were never invited.

Those days are long gone. The new breed of police officer won't tolerate the drunks. Random drug testing has gleaned out the dopers. Digital cameras and tighter weapons policies has cut down the gun play. The thought of losing the best job in the world because of a DUI arrest or the possibility of a nasty divorce has toned down the drinking, gambling, and womanizing. Cell phone cameras, squad car cameras, and the fear of going to prison has stopped most of the traffic bribes.

The large amounts of drug money that is out on the street has bred a new kind of police criminal. These crooks shake down drug dealers and terrorize honest citizens by planting drugs then threatening to arrest them. Federal authorities work along with internal affairs officers to put these criminals into prison.

The old way of protecting bad police officers no longer works. The thin blue line is faded, sometimes barely visible. Modern police officers are professionals and won't tolerate criminal behavior in their ranks. These are the men and women I am proud to serve with.

Close, but no......

A police officer's career is exciting and dangerous. It's not however, all shootouts and frisky women. (A big city copper is polite and doesn't describe it as "bullets and blowjobs" like some officers would.)

There are areas where an officer can go his whole career without ever taking his gun out of his holster except for practice or qualification. There are also towns and cities where the high crime and violence forces officers into gun fights on a more regular basis. Not all gun play results in injury or death. Sometimes, it's a close call that could have gone bad but didn't.

A copper responded to a disturbance call one night. He approached the location and paused to put his flashlight into a baton ring. The door burst open. A woman screamed out "he's got a gun!" She ran out into the street followed seconds later by a man holding a very nasty looking revolver. The copper, in the middle of the street, realized he was still fidgeting with the flashlight. He succeeded in securing the light (they're expensive) then grabbed the .45 he had just purchased a few days earlier and had only just qualified with. (Strange, the things that run through a copper's head during a adrenaline surge.)

The armed man, apparently very intent on the woman, chased her into the street. The woman , screaming, ran behind a parked car. She kept the car between her and the gunman by running back and forth as he chased her.

The copper, gun drawn and leveled at the man, shouted "police, drop it". The man stopped. The copper shouted again. The man turned, looked at the copper for a long second ( the hands, watch the hands, crap, there's bullets in the cylinder, it's loaded, watch the gun, watch the gun,) then said "SHIT" and dropped the gun. The copper ran up, ordered the man against the wall, then stepped into the back of his leg and forced him to his knees. The copper backed away then called for an assist car to take the man into custody.

While off duty and returning to his car after traffic court one day, a copper watched a man approach a car that was pulled over at the mouth of an alley. The man pulled a gun and began to fire into the car. People began screaming. There was a school on the block and the kids were just getting out for the day.

The officer, pulled out his pistol and began to approach the gunman. A woman screamed behind him " AY DIOS MIO, OTRO!" (Oh my God, another one!) The copper couldn't fire. Too many kids and parents were behind the shooter. The gunman continued to shoot as the car screeched away from the curb. The copper yelled "police"! The shooter, a young male, turned and ran into the alley. The copper (remember, off duty so no radio) chased after him. The young man turned into a gangway and disappeared from sight. The copper, slowed down and began to carefully search for the gunman. After several minutes, there was no sign of the man or of any other police. The copper called it in and provided a description of the shooter and the vehicle but no injuries or damage was ever reported.

Cruising in the vicinity of a block party shooting, a big city copper spotted a man fitting the description of the man wanted for the earlier shooting. The man ran into a yard then continued out of the back gate. The copper gave chase and called out the direction of flight to other cars in the area. When the man turned into another yard, the copper immediately turned into a parallel yard and exited the front at the same time as the suspect. Unaware that the officer was approaching from behind him, the man ducked under a porch and pulled out a gun. He was hiding it under some stones when the copper came up and challenged him. The man looked back and saw the officer had a gun pointed at him. He put up his hands and surrendered.

After each of these incidents, the officer involved got the "coulda shoulda woulda's." He was second guessed by other coppers. "I'd have killed him" "You should have shot him" were some of the comments he heard. Like a true professional, the big city copper told them he never felt threatened or not in control of the situation so killing wasn't necessary.

Sometimes a close call is just part of another day in the big city.