The Policeman’s Life is Not a Happy One

Way back when TV was seen in black and white, I was waiting for a police spokesman on a breaking story in New York. A veteran AP reporter was doing the same and we started talking about how often we waited for information and eventually, how much time it took out of our lives.

We estimated that he had literally spent three years waiting during his long career and I was inching toward a year and a half. The Lieutenant eventually appeared and in wonderful New Yorkese he reported that “The alleged perpetrator was heading west on 23rd Street when a unit from the 10th precinct responded to a citizen’s call and gave chase. The alleged perpetrator then doubled back and proceeded to run east on the same thorofare and another unit responded and gave chase,” etc. etc. Got so I could mimic most police responses and get a couple of laughs when other reporters were waiting and there was nothing better to do.

Maybe I got tired of waiting so for a ten year spell I decided to write novels, screenplays, TV projects but had to eat so I formed Tom Glennon Associates, a public relations company and ended up with the NYPD Police Sergeants Benevolent Association as one of my clients. For 14 chaotic years while New York City underwent violent changes, I tried to counsel the 3,500 odd Sergeants and get them deserved publicity and occasionally, put a restraint on the far more fractious PBA which had five times the membership.

I’ve been around cops a great part of my professional life and at one point was a Public Information Officer for the Miami Dade County Police Department but it wasn’t chasing the bad guys. We moved to Key Largo, Florida back in 1997 and someone suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea if I checked out becoming a reserve officer in the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department. To say I was past my prime would be an egregious understatement but I’m a big guy physically, had seen combat in Vietnam and was intrigued despite my advanced state of decrepitude. They took one look at my background and three days later I took an oath and got fitted for a uniform.

The PR thing was not to be because I really wanted to go on patrol, to respond to those calls, and one very savvy cop, lets call him “Sergeant Daniels,” thought it over. He looked at my bulk and said “I have to be nuts and you will have to do exactly as I tell you, but let’s give it a shot.” Boot training all over again decades later. Well I started getting into a rather messy police cruiser which had just had a computer included up front so there was damned little room but the AC worked, I was riding shotgun, albeit without a weapon, and away we went.

On a complaint of a vandalism call on a Halloween night I had to confront a rather large sized individual half my age, more than half drunk and a bona fide cop hater. He was going berserk and I started to reach for my four cell flashlight because I wasn’t armed nor did I carry a baton, when I glanced over my shoulder and saw another uniform moving behind him, then another and still another. I wasn’t going to back down from this maniac before they arrived. I was trying to talk him down but quickly realized he wanted this confrontation, wanted to see how I would react. The other cops circled him one at a time and he eventually registered that he was facing tremendous odds and these were all big men. He almost choked on his rage but finally turned on foot and started to walk away when another Deputy said, “You’re really asking for doing hard time.” He responded, “I’ve done it before and ate assholes like you for breakfast.” It took some restraint on the cops part but there still wasn’t enough for an arrest and after several more words a Captain told him to get the hell outta there.

In another incident I saved the bacon of two young kids accused of throwing eggs at a house. I told them that most people didn’t know it but eggs left a smell and asked them if I could smell their hands. They offered them eagerly thus establishing their innocence despite a local, overweight customs officer who swore they were the perpetrators. He was dead wrong, we grabbed the other pair later, but this guy was in the throws of cops and robbers. My Sergeant told him to calm down and eventually he sulked and walked away, his big crime scene denied him.

The following week a call came that a man was assaulting a young woman right in front of the Key Largo Fire Station and away we roared. It took us two and a half minutes and by the time we got to the station there were two State Troopers, three firemen and two other sheriff’s cars on the scene. They had an elderly alcoholic in custody and explained that the young woman had apparently cut him off, he was drunk, chased her and she drove to the firehouse for help. Daniels took the guy’s car keys and let him go after serving him with a warrant. I was confused and he explained, “Where the hell is he going to go? He sleeps in that car, he hasn’t got money for a can of Budweiser, he will be hung over so bad tomorrow he will welcome the air conditioning in jail. There’s not a helluva lot you can do with him, he’s beyond rehabilitation, he’s flotsam on the human sea.” My Sergeant had a literary bent and also taught himself to play the dulcimer and held dulcimer concerts every month.

Let me tell a story about this gutsy cop. He was called to the site of a car left in a no parking zone. Obviously it was for sale and Daniels was checking it out when a guy approached and without provocation jumped him. He was super strong, karate trained and had managed to wind Daniels’ microphone cable around his neck and was choking him while two women watched, did absolutely nothing, and that includes dialing 911. He was being strangled. It was later learned that the assailant was a psychopath and literally couldn’t feel physical pain but Daniels did as he descended into unconsciousness. In a last effort he was able to break free and managed to get out an “Officer down” and location call before the maniac put a choke hold on him.

A female Deputy arrived on the scene within two minutes, drew her weapon and told the attacker he was within three seconds of being sent to hell. He looked at her as Daniels struggled to his feet, then gave up and accused the Sergeant of assaulting him. He was arrested none too gently and laughed as he informed several arresting officers that he couldn’t feel pain, and believe me several wanted to test that statement. It turned out he had a long history of assaults and incarcerations but always got out to hurt other people. Every cops can tell you about dozens of cases like this. Daniels told me this story when we hit that corner one day and his thoughts turned to the two women who watched as he was almost killed. These are among the people he had sworn to serve and protect.

That afternoon we got a call that there was a man with a shotgun threatening people at a nearby mobile home park. As we raced to the scene I found myself taking off my glasses and putting them on the dashboard of the patrol unit. I smiled as I remember kids in schoolyards about to go into a fight, taking off their glasses. The smile didn’t remain in place long as I realized that neither Daniels nor myself were wearing kevlar vests. The adrenaline soared as he told me to hang back if we spotted this guy, I wasn’t armed, and we slid into a parking area. It looked like a police convention with half a dozen units responding. Daniels took charge and we spread out. I stayed close to him thinking that if he got hit I could use his 9mm or some such craziness. If a shotgun with “double O” shot were used neither one of us would have been standing. It turned out to be a false alarm with a woman, more than half in the bag, admitting she had made the call and that the shotgun wielder was a guy she had seen the day before. Unbelievable the sense of anger, mixed with relief, at this lunatic. We broke up and went to lunch and strangely, the incident was not brought up.

Another time a call came in that there was a reported home invasion in progress, incidentally that used to be called a “break and entry.” Daniels and I got out of the car and he did a cop thing. In Florida the hood of a car is usually hot so he put his hand into the radiator grill to check the temperature. It was cool so the vehicle hadn’t been driven recently. There was another deputy already on the scene and he and I went around to the back of the house where two snarling dogs resented our approach. Another job hazard. This particular deputy had already been shot in the back twice, years before, and was understandably nervous about another go round with a nine millimeter slug. He unsnapped his holster, turned and saw me and I could see a little of the tension drop out of his shoulders, he had back up. He was doing his job.

These are tiny tastes of my year going on patrol and learning just a tad about what it really means to be a cop. No stories out of Fort Apache in the Bronx or Fort Zindernuff in Brooklyn, just sheriff’s deputies responding to calls in the Florida Keys.

Are cops macho? Generally, yes. Are they suspicious of those outside their ranks? Again, yes. Are they overwhelmed by bureaucratic bullshit? Again affirmative. Should I have chosen a career in a police department rather than in journalism. No, I just don’t have the guts for it. For you see that’s the bottom line, courage and dedication and initially a touch of romanticism which lasts about a year until they put their hands in gore, face the human condition and look around and find they can’t talk to anyone other than brother and sister officers.

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