The area around the desk sergeant was controlled chaos. Police officers, who all appeared to be seasoned in the field, scurried around oblivious to me. As I approached the desk sergeant to report in for my assignment, I was blocked by two men in street clothes walking out with a police captain.
“Can I help you?” the desk sergeant asked.
“Yes, sir,” I responded in military fashion. “I have been assigned to Western. Can you tell me where to report?”
“Who are you?” the sergeant asked.
“Officer Michael B. Kaminski, sir,” I replied.
“You must be straight out of the academy,” he smiled as he studied me closely.
“Yes, sir.”
“Report to Sergeant Tim Florey. He is waiting for you downstairs,” the sergeant shuffled through his records.
As I walked away, the sergeant stopped me.
“Did you see that captain walking out with the detectives?” he smiled wryly.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“He was your district captain.” The sergeant said. “He was just arrested for gambling payoffs. Welcome to Western.”
Downstairs, I found a group of off-duty officers playing pool in the dayroom. ‘“Where can I find Sergeant Florey?” I asked.
“Are you new?” one of the officers asked after he took his shot.
“Yes,” I responded.
“You must be fresh out of the academy,” he too grinned as he looked at my uniform. “Florey is in that room. It’s almost roll call. He is in charge of a foot patrol squad. You will like him.”
Sergeant Tim Florey looked like a young man. He must have made sergeant at a very early age or very quickly on the force. He was thin, physically, with sandy blond hair. Not the typical tough supervisor I expected to be assigned to.
“So you are my new replacement?” he asked as he studied me.
“Yes, sir,” I replied after introducing myself.
“Well, I hope you will enjoy your assignment here,” he replied. “We have a good squad. Everyone with me is a probationary officer almost fresh out of the academy. Everyone except Russo. He will be your training officer. You will learn a lot from him. He came from the Narcotics division.”
“Glenn,” Sergeant Florey called to Russo who was talking to some of the guys. “Come over here and meet our new replacement.”
Russo was transferred to Western from the Narcotics division for a reason. Nobody requests or transfers out of undercover Narcotics and then requests Western as their choice of assignments. Moreover, very few detectives choose to go back into uniform, especially out of Narcotics division.
In fact, nobody volunteered for Western because they wanted to advance their careers. You usually were transferred to The Wild West because of a disciplinary action.
Whatever the reason, Russo commanded the appearance of a cop who knew the streets. It would not be long until we learned that he still had a passion for drug deals and Narcotics investigations. Now he was in a foot patrol squad, away from headquarters, and in law school part time. Years later, Glenn Russo would be the lawyer in the divorce settlement between my wife and me.
My first lesson I learned from Russo that day: “Forget everything you learned in the academy.”
“Your job is to survive, stay alive on the street and use the streets. And don’t get your ass shot off,” he shook my hand.
Roll call began with Sergeant Florey introducing me to the other squad members. Their names went in and out of my mind as fast as I heard them. No one was out of the academy for more than six months. We were all on probation.
Foot patrol was a more personal and intimate way of policing the streets. You were not in a patrol car, protected by steel, driving around sector posts with limited contact with the people in the neighborhoods. You were assigned to a specific area of streets, dropped off by a patrol car, and you walked a beat until you were picked up at the end of shift unless your ride back to the station was engaged in a call.
On foot patrol, you were more visible than a police car. However, you were also a walking target. In Western, your role was not to become ‘Officer Friendly.’ On the streets, you had a better opportunity to interact with people and hear what was happening and gain valuable information for investigations. There is a great difference between hearing someone talk and actually listening to what is being said.
Roll call was basically learning what to look out for that shift, what happened the shift before, and getting post assignments. Since I was new, I was assigned to walk patrol with “Igor” Kulig. He was named “Igor” because of the one long eyebrow that linked both eyes. Igor was two classes ahead of me in the academy, but he looked like he had been in Western for a couple years.
After we were dismissed and walking out of the room preparing for patrol, Sergeant Florey stopped me.
“Mike. Why did you want to be a police officer?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t really know, sergeant,” I replied honestly.
“Be careful and learn from the streets,” Sergeant Florey smiled. “They will teach you what you need to know. Welcome to Western.”
Chapter 4: THE LAW OF THE WEST
The first couple weeks were basically orientation into the environment of Western. Not only foot patrol assignments but, maybe more important, the unofficial and unwritten policies and procedures of policing the district.
I was assigned to sections of Pennsylvania Avenue and West North Avenue. As I walked and patrolled the blocks of Pennsylvania Avenue and looked at the buildings, I wondered why it was called "The Street of Dreams". It would not be long before reality in Western would come to light when the call came out for a possible jumper.
“Man on a roof threatening to jump,” the steady voice of the dispatcher advised. “Any units in the area of the 500 block of Cumberland Street respond.”
Being a rookie, the next call was always anticipated with some degree of anxiety, especially when you walked the post alone. Somehow, this one was different. It was not on my post but I was close enough to respond.
On foot patrol, your response time is only as quick as you can run. By the time I reached the 500 block of Cumberland Street, the sector patrol cars already arrived on the scene and a crowd gathered. It was a valid call. A man on the roof of a row house threatened to jump. As I watched, I could not imagine getting to a point in my life where I would have the courage, or lack of desire of life, or weakness to actually attempt suicide. Later in life, I would understand this man’s wish to want to end it all.
I was assigned to crowd control along with some of the other members of my squad who responded. As the supervisors in charge of the scene tried to talk with the man, the situation intensified as the crowd became more involved. The night was bitter cold and emotions were high as the man continued to yell and threaten to jump.
At some point, one of the police officers yelled, “If you are going to jump, then jump, it is cold out here.”
The man jumped and fell to the ground, dead. Suddenly there was deathly silence. Eventually the crowd dispersed and Sergeant Florey advised his squad to go back into service. I walked back to my foot post partially thinking about the outcome of the situation but also listening for the noises in the night. You can never be too relaxed after a situation like that when you wear a blue target.
After shift, we all gathered in the parking lot of Western, as usual,