Real Life on the Streets (eBook)

Jim Hogan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2022 | 1. Auflage
552 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-6471-6 (ISBN)

Infos

This book consists of a series of anecdotal experiences of a police officer in a small, but growing, police department in the suburban Denver area.  Although set in the 1960's and 70's, it is easily translatable to today's law enforcement experience.  It's aim is to bring a better understanding to the general public of the realities of police work on a daily basis, as well as to describe the kinds of incidents to which those who are, or were, in law enforcement can easily relate.  It is at times comical, at times tragic, and at times heart warming. The author does not attempt to sugar coat the language used or the prevailing attitudes of the times described.  With no hint of 'preaching', the book provides an eloquent look at the camaraderie and sense of family which was common in the law enforcement community at that time and which continues to this day.

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This book consists of a series of anecdotal experiences of a police officer in a small, but growing, police department in the suburban Denver area. Although set in the 1960's and 70's, it is easily translatable to today's law enforcement experience. It's aim is to bring a better understanding to the general public of the realities of police work on a daily basis, as well as to describe the kinds of incidents to which those who are, or were, in law enforcement can easily relate. It is at times comical, at times tragic, and at times heart warming. The author does not attempt to sugar coat the language used or the prevailing attitudes of the times described. With no hint of "e;preaching"e;, the book provides an eloquent look at the camaraderie and sense of family which was common in the law enforcement community at that time and which continues to this day.

Textauszug

Real Life on the Streets

Chapter Six

The Draught House Fiasco

 

 

The City of Thornton had just annexed four square blocks of unincorporated Adams County that was under the jurisdiction of the Adams County Sheriff’s Department. This area took in 86th Avenue on the south, 88th Avenue on the north, Washington Avenue on the west and Corona to the east. In this area was a free-standing liquor store, a free-standing Tastee Freeze, a free-standing 7-11 and a little shopping center consisting of a dry cleaners, a bar called the Ghetto, a gun shop, a couple of small businesses, Shutto’s Thrift Way, a small grocery store. Connected to the north wall of Shutto’s was a –– Winchell’s Donut shop! I guess the City of Thornton figured that the employees of the Thornton Water Department, the police, and fire departments spent so much money there they may as well annex it and get some of that tax revenue.

In the same plot of land was a place call the Draught House. It was a nightclub for the 18 to 21-year-olds to party. Until 1987, Colorado law allowed people 18 to 21 years of age to consume 3.2 percent beer. People over the age of 21 could drink everything else.

The Draught House started out as the Imperial Bowling Lanes, probably in the late ’50s, then was gutted and turned into a nightclub. I think it would suffice to say; this place was enormous. It had a huge bandstand, well-kept dance floor, two bars—one at the north end and the other at the south end. There was seating all over the place. I believe the capacity was nine hundred and something.

There were many times the Adams County deputies would call Thornton for backup when fights broke out.

On this historic night, a Friday, it was the beginning of our annexation, and they had a band called Funky Town, scheduled to play. At our 2300 briefing, Sergeant Werner Horst advised the on-coming officers that the Draught House parking lot was already filled, and Winchell’s was complaining about people parking in front of their store and walking to the Draught House, about a hundred feet to the east. The Sergeant for the night was Bob Wells. Bob was a seventeen-year veteran of the Denver Police Department and then was chief of a small town south and west of Thornton, called Sheridan for a short time before coming to Thornton.

There were four officers plus Sergeant Wells scheduled for that night. Officer Sidell and I were assigned to work the “Scout Car.” The Scout Car was a Chevrolet van with two bucket seats in the front and a steel divider separating “us from them.” A five-foot-long steel bench was behind the driver’s seat, which would hold about four people, then another seat angled to the left that would hold about another three butts, thus seating about seven or eight people comfortably or uncomfortably. Who cares? We were known as “Scout Car-1.”

We reconnoitered (I love big words, sometimes they sound dirty) in a dark area on the southeast side of the Thornton Shopping Center (TSC) at 88th and Corona. Three cars from the SO met with us. Lieutenant Don Allen and Sergeant Jerry Eye were the Watch Commanders for the SO that night. Sergeant Eye was a big no-nonsense type of supervisor. Ex-Marine. Good sense of humor. He was a good man for setting an example for his troops. Lieutenant Allen was an “I’ll only tell you once; then I’ll kick your ass,” type of cop.

Sergeant Eye, Lieutenant Allen, and Sergeant Wells got together and formulated a plan. If the crowd gets rough, we kick ass and load um up. (Pretty good plan, huh?)

We were all standing in a close proximity to the two command cars so we could monitor the two frequencies. The SO dispatcher called Lieutenant Allen.

“Headquarters to Car 26”

“Car 26, I’m at 88th and Corona with Car 27 and four of our people and several Thornton officers.”

“Good car 26, it sounds like you’re going to need them; I just got a call from the manager of the Draught House, they have a fight in progress on the southwest side of the building with several individuals, and one of them has a machete. The manager thinks they may have a person injured.”

And so, the night begins.

Sergeant Wells decided we would use a Thornton ambulance because they were close. He instructed dispatcher Karm Sunday to explain to the responding fire department personnel; they should stand by in the TSC until we find out what is happening. He explained that there were an estimated eight hundred to nine hundred people in the club, and we needed to assess the situation before sending fire department personnel into harm’s way.

We (the County and us) donned our riot helmets and got our riot sticks from the trunks of our PCs. (Riot sticks are about six inches longer than a regular nightstick. (So we could reach out and touch someone – easier.)

In those days, we only had three channels on our radio system. Channel 1, the primary police frequency. Channel 2, a frequency that was not available to police scanners. This channel could be used by police personnel responding to a situation where planning was necessary and they didn’t want to tie up the main channel. Channel 3 was assigned to the fire department. It was known as – The Fire Channel! The fire department could access channel 1 and communicate with us and vice-versa. The Thornton Fire Chief, Carl Nelson (my hero), called Sergeant Wells on channel 1 and said, “Bob, we have some extra personnel here; what if we back up that ambulance with Pumper 1 and about five firemen?” Sergeant Wells said that would be great. They both went to channel 3 and set up the plan.

The county approached from the south and east with their overheads on, and two Thornton cars approached from an alley between the Draught House and the east end of the little shopping center. Joel and I, in the Scout Car, drove into the middle of the crowd that was leaving the club via the east exit. It was 2345 hours; they must have given “last call” because the lot was beginning to become active with young folks. (Young folks! Hell, most of us officers weren’t much older than these patrons!) Joel used the PA system to announce instructions for everyone to get to their vehicles and leave. Most of the people complied. Sergeant Jerry Eye and Sergeant Gary Garner of the Sheriff’s Department were on foot and struggling with two males with handcuffs on. I, riding on the passenger side of the van, jumped out and opened the side doors. (The van had two doors that swung out on the right side.) We took the handcuffs off and replaced them with Flex-cuffs. As we were assisting these two into the van, I heard glass breaking behind us. Some dumb fucker must have brought a beer bottle out of the club with him and was holding the neck of the bottle, yelling at some dumb-founded skinny kid.

This cretin didn’t see Joel and me - or - the Scout Car. Joel and I smiled at each other and got behind Mr. Bad ass. Joel grabbed his right arm. (the one with the broken bottle) I got the left arm behind him before he knew what was happening. Joel did a nice maneuver with the right arm and got it twisted behind the lad and said he would break his arm if he didn’t drop the glass – He dropped the glass.

The skinny kid started crying, saying, “Thank you, thank you, that crazy idiot was going to cut me!” I asked Skinny Kid what the idiot’s problem was. He said Idiot was mad because he (Skinny) sold him a joint for two bucks, and Idiot said there were more weeds in it than a vegetable garden. Skinny said he told Idiot, “What do you want for two bucks?” I got more info from Skinny while Joel put Idiot in the Scout Car.

A couple of deputies came up with two more passengers, and the next thing we knew, there were fifteen unhappy passengers. Lieutenant Eye was having trouble with a somewhat obese gentleman, so Joel and I helped him load up number sixteen into the van, which by now resembled the inside of a large sardine can. When the other fifteen occupants saw the whale joining them, their protestation was quite vocal without any eloquence whatsoever.

While we were stuffing Mr. Big into the sardine can on wheels, I heard someone yelling, “Zack, what the fuck is going on?” Zack, (aka Mr. Big) yelled back, “Barry, these fucking pigs are taking me to jail, man.” Then the voice, (aka Barry) yells, “You can’t do that, man, you fucking pigs ain’t got no right to bust him; he’s on private property!”

Lieutenant Allen was watching our backs while we continued to stuff Mr. Big into the van, and the Lieutenant was telling Barry the best thing he could do for his friend was to meet him at the Adams County Jail and bond him out and not to worry, the bond won’t be as big as his fat ass.

However, in his drunken glory, Barry yells at Lieutenant Allen, “You mother fuckers take my friend, you gotta take me too!” Lieutenant Allen looked at Joel and me and said, “Can you fit this stupid cocksucker in with the others?” Joel said, “Yup.” He opened the door, and the Lieutenant and I stuffed him in. (I loved Lieutenant Allen, he was so eloquent with his descriptions and certainly a terrific wordsmith.)

You cannot imagine the yelling that came from the stuffed van. Someone was yelling, “This is police brutality!” Joel said, “How sweet it is.” Sergeant Wells and Lieutenant Eye decided we should transport these sardines to the County Jail instead of the Thornton Jail because if some of them couldn’t bond out, they would have to be repacked and taken to the county anyway. It sounded good to me; except I wasn’t looking forward to the noise.

The yelling was so bad I had to stretch the mic outside the van to code in. It went something like...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 14.11.2022
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-6471-8 / 1667864718
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-6471-6 / 9781667864716