What Kind of Cop Wears Glasses


I got a telephone call last week from my old NYPD radio car partner. We rode together back in the early 1980’s patrolling Manhattan’s Thirteenth Pct. I had realized it has been quite some time since we actually spoke to each other. But with the advent of text messages and e mail, and not actually hearing his voice for a while, Jimmy sounded the same.

 

It was like it was still 1982, that gruff deep voice highlighted his heavy and now anachronistic Brooklyn accent. Jimmy still had it all, even after moving to Florida. I imagine he still has his accompanying piercing deep blue eyes with that “Murder One” look which would stare down any skell into submission. Jimmy projected to the public that quintessential now nonexistent NYPD cop tough guy - strong, silent, and self-contained. “I take no shit from nobody,” he’d always say.

We spoke about the old times and we laughed about the midnight tour when we once responded to a routine noise complaint in a very nice apartment building on West 23rd Street. An small elderly Jewish couple had called 911. We could hear the noise of furniture being thrown around in the apartment directly above theirs.

The twist was, the person upstairs was their thirty year old son. He had stopped taking his medication and they wanted us to take him to the Hospital. We figured he was some small wimpy EDP (Emotionally Disturbed Person) Jewish guy and we’d just ride him over to Bellevue Hospital.

When we went upstairs, the door was open. I looked inside and saw a five foot five screaming three hundred pound man sporting a shaved head. His arms fit around a refrigerator and he was lifting it up and down pounding the floor. “We’re going to get killed,” I thought.





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