Archive for August 2013

Things remembered   6 comments

Henry & Me1Since the reunion will be upon us soon I thought I would just check on the memories of the old 83 cops. Let’s see how many of these things you remember.
Now lets return to those thrilling days of yesteryear,  for me that means before old, fat and bald.
Who remembers stopping at Weber’s for a cholesterol sandwich. Remember those? Bacon, eggs and about a half pound of butter? The grease dripping down your arm as you ate.
The Saxon’s a wonderful family, you were guaranteed a fight every time you had a call there.
Charley the drunk staggering along Wyckoff Ave and sleeping in hallways or in snow drifts.
How many remember where you meant if you called another sector car over the radio and told them to meet you on Cinder St, at the Gardens, Alaska or the Cowboy.
Who remembers Johnny Herbert turning out with a roll of toilet paper in his holster? When Sgt. Mis asked why he had it there Johnny said because the place was a shit house.
Capt. O’Sullivan on his first day saying 1 PP had told him “Good luck, the 83 was a cross between a foreign legion outpost and a leper colony” and getting a round of applause for it.
The strange crew in the B & G, Bob the bartender, Doll Face who never realized that she was called that because she had so much make up on her face it looked like it was molded in plastic. The one drunk who seemed to always be there sleeping with his head on the bar and the crowd of us at the pinball machine.
The blackout on July 13, 1977, the city claimed city wide the cops fired only two shots and one was accidental, proving that some great fiction writers worked at City Hall.
The unnamed scooter cop who had been known to turn out with a saber instead of a night stick.
Wanda the Witch with her very large breasts and very ugly face saying, “Feel my heart” in her German accent.
Well that’s enough for now. How many do you remember and how many other things can you think of.

 

Posted August 25, 2013 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

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First day of school   10 comments

Visitation schoolToday I would like us all to step into our wayback machines and ride along with Mr. Peabody and Sherman. We will hopefully remember what it felt like as summer came to an end and Visitation opened for a new school year.

Summers back then felt so long but when they ended the end was sudden. It felt like one day we were rolling our bathing suits into our towels with a Brooklyn roll to go to the pool. If not the pool then it was a baseball or softball game. Maybe handball or riding our bikes to the far side of the city. Remember riding to Manhattan, Queens and Staten Island, with a little help from the ferry. Carpet gun wars down at the Alamo, now just memories.

Long summer nights playing outside while our parents and grandparents sat in front of the building. The streets still wet from the Johnny Pump opened during the day. The Mr. Softee Truck coming down the street, its music a siren song to us preteens. It seemed that summer was a magical time that would last forever.

Then Labor Day came and summer slammed shut with an almost audible bang. Time to forget the bathing suits it was now new blue pants, white shirt and blue tie. The girls had plaid skirts, make sure they came below the knee. Don’t reach for your bat and glove. Now it was pens, pencils, school bags and books. Our forever summer had been so short

Walking to school the first day, the older kids telling us how our new teacher had killed a kid last year. Always a kid we didn’t know. Seeing classmates we hadn’t seen since June. Finding our new lines in front of the school when the first bell rang. Realizing we had moved up a place in the hierarchy of grades. Soon Mrs. Smithers would be coming into class wearing one of her outrageous hats saying how we were her favorite class ever. Don’t forget that little cross at the top of the page with J-M-J around it.

So started another school year, the freedom of summer traded for 10 months of class. At the time it did not seem like a fair trade. Soon fall and winter would bring their own things to look forward to. Halloween would be upon us. Then Christmas with the school plays and that spiral staircase. Going to Bonacore’s (sp) for a Christmas tree and Skinny Andy’s for decorations. Those days were fast approaching but on that first day of school they seemed so far away.

The second bell has rung and it is time to go. I can’t say anymore the Principal is looking at me

Posted August 23, 2013 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

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On the Table   Leave a comment

83 pctPolice Officers Sean and Harry were members of the NYPD. They had stopped for coffee when the radio crackled. It was Central with a job, a DOA on Gates Avenue. Of course it was on the second floor no one ever dies on the first floor. Sean and Harry walked in and sure as hell, there he was dead as he could be. There were three other men in the apartment. They were playing cards and drinking all night long. They didn’t stop for a little thing like one of the group keeling over on the coffee table. They just pushed him to the side and resumed dealing and drinking. As they were running low on wine they thought they would have to do something about their friend and called the cops.

That got the cops  there. Sean radioed for the Patrol Sergeant, the Medical Examiner and the squad. The ME showed up and decided there would be an autopsy. The squad came and talked to drunken assholes one, two and three then left. The Sergeant told Sean and Harry they would have to wait for the morgue wagon since he had no footman available to assign it to. Sean called the ME’s Office and was told it was pretty quiet, they should be there in about a half hour. Great news since at times you could sit a whole day waiting for them to show up.

So now all they had to do was stand there and wait for the deadmobile.  They had to stand because you don’t want to bring home roaches that crawled onto your clothes. The clothes were uninhabited when they put them on. It was preferred that the same could be said when the clothes were taken off.

Drunk number one was babbling on. Sean was not really listening until he started getting pissed off.

“That mothers not coming to this house again. If he does I will kick his damn ass.”

Then Sean started paying attention because if he was going to be up there in the middle of a drunk fight he wanted to be ready for it. Sean pointed to the other two drunks.

“Which one’s ass are you looking to kick?”

“Not them, that mother.”

He pointed to the dead guy.

“I invite him over to play cards and drink some wine. The bastard dies right in the middle of my living room, lying on my table. That bastard better not come back here to drink my wine. If he does I’ll kick his damn ass.”

“You do what you have to do but if that asshole gets up and starts drinking wine you won’t see me here. If he goes all zombie here I’ll be gone in a cloud of sneaker smoke.”

When the job was done and they were back in their patrol car Sean turned to Harry and said, “I think this was the type of job I needed, stupid shit to laugh at. A call where we didn’t have to smack the hell out of anybody. I have a week of day tours left then I am gone for two weeks. I’m going to Seaside Park for needed R and R. I really need to unwind.”

Posted August 20, 2013 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

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Stop and Frisk   6 comments

Old 83 Station HouseToday I just wanted to write a little about the “Stop and Frisk” controversy in New York. I saw the woman who oversees the program in Philadelphia is offering advice to the city. That sounds pretty good until you realize that Philadelphia’s homicide rate is three times New York’s. Maybe it should be the other way around.

Luckily New York has Judge Shira Scheindlin, who despite never having worked a minute as a cop knows more than the entire Police Department about Police work. She has appointed someone to oversee the program who also has no idea what he is doing. I love how these things work.

I saw where Judge Scheindlin said the over use of the program was one of the problems she saw that needed to be corrected. Over the last fifteen years there have been 4,400,000 stops. Now that is a lot of stops. Obviously all the cops in the city must be spending all their time harassing people.

They should only be allowed to stop one person a month. There are about 35,000 cops in New York City.  If each cop stops one person a month that means 35,000 stops each month, easy right? That means only 420,000 stops per year. See how it works? Over the last 15 years they should have only stopped 6,300,000 rather than 4,400,000. Oh, NEVER MIND.

Just think if the judge has her way New York City can return to the way it was in the 70’s and 80’s. The City can again take the homicide rate title away from Chicago. Then Judge Scheindlin can look at the extra one or two thousand dead in the street, mostly minorities and proudly say “I did that.”

Posted August 18, 2013 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Summer of ’67   9 comments

Brooklyn Bridge 1This is something a bit different. I am thinking of doing something on the last High School summer. This is just a short story that came to me. It is not even a very good short story but it seems like it might be something that could fit into a decent story. Let me know if you think it has any promise. Anyway here it is. By the way the picture is of me on the Brooklyn Bridge around 1967. 

          It was the summer of 1967. The summer of love but for the Nite Owls it was also the last summer vacation from High school. In September they would start their senior year. After this summer it would be time to start growing up, but they still had this one summer left.

The Nite Owls had their base in Ronny’s parent’s basement. It had an outside entrance, it was theirs to use and use it they did. The Nite Owls were not a fighting gang although there was the incident with Parasol and his boys which we won’t get into. They were not a criminal gang except for just a few burglaries and they were minor. There was also the time they blew the roof off the park house with a homemade bomb but the less said about that the better. They are stories for another time.

Today the guys were in the basement. Ronny had talked to the girls from Queens and they said that they were having a party at Josephine’s parent’s apartment. Her parents were away for the weekend so they would have the place to themselves.  Ken and Herman were working at doing boiler work at Mike’s Marine in Elizabeth, NJ and were due there at any minute. The rest of the guys were trying to decide which girl each wanted. They had been talking to the girls for almost a year since they met them on a prank call. The two groups had actually never met in person.

Jerry and Joe were arguing over Carol when Ken and Herman came in. As they came through the door Ken yelled, “Herman pulled a Herman today.”

Ronny said, “What did he do now?”

“Mike dropped us off at the tubes straight from the ship. So we take the tubes to Manhattan and we are waiting for train to Brooklyn covered in all the shit from the boilers. Three women, high class bitches are giving us dirty looks like we shouldn’t even be allowed on the train. So fuckin Herman starts throwing them kisses. One pulled up her nose and said Thrash. Worst thing she could have done. Herman grabs his crotch and starts dancing towards them singing “Come on ladies get a treat I got fifteen pounds of swinging meat.”

The whole gang started laughing picturing Herman all five foot ten inches and one hundred ten pounds dancing in the subway. Herman’s left leg didn’t weigh fifteen pounds. When the laughter died down the gang told Ken and Herman about going to meet the girls.

Ken said, “I’m not going. Three times we went to meet them and they never showed up. What makes you think they will be there this time?”

Joe said, “They gave us an address we won’t be waiting in the street for them. Look I wrote it down.”

“That’s not even in Queens. That’s a Brooklyn address.”

“Josephine is the only one who lives in Brooklyn.”

“You assholes go if you want. Call me if they show up.”

“Okay, you’ll see. They want us to bring some stuff to drink. They have some wine and a case of beer.”

“Okay let’s go see Nelson.”

They came through the Bodega’s door yelling, “Hello Nelson.”

They got a big “Hello Boys” back.

They were only fifteen and sixteen years old but could get whatever they wanted at Nelson’s. He asked if they wanted tequila. None had ever had any so Nelson gave each a shot to decide. A bottle of tequila, two of rum and three cases of beer left with them.

Back at the basement the supplies were broken up and packed in backpacks. Joe, Herman, Jerry and Sal loaded up and started for Ronny’s car.

Ken said, “Roger and I will be at my house. If they show up call me.”

As they were leaving Ronny said, “I can’t go.”

Jerry said, “What? Why not? You have the only car.”

“I can’t, I’m going steady with Mary.”

“Are going to see Mary tonight?
“No.”

“Then why can’t you go?”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

“Can you at least drive us there?”

“No, Mary wouldn’t like that.”

Ronny had scruples. The rest of them didn’t even want to know how to spell scruples. The four left, they would take the bus and the Myrtle Ave El to Harman St.

Ken and Roger were playing cards at and laughing about the others riding around Brooklyn when the phone rang. I was Joe.

“We’re here the girls are here.”

“Bullshit. If you’re with them put them on.” Ken said.

“Okay,” Joe said and Carol came on line.

“Hello where are you guys?”

“We are on the way,”

Ken and Roger ran to Nelson’s for another case of beer. Two six packs in each back pack and they were out the door. On to Ronny’s basement. Ronny was playing pool when they came through the door.

“The girls are there you have to go.” Ken said.

“I can’t you know that.”

“If you don’t at least run us up to the Myrtle Ave El I am going go outside and beat the hell out of you car with a basball bat.

“Come on that’s bullshit .”

“Get your keys.”
Ronny dropped them off outside Josephine’s place and kept going.

They ran upstairs, inside the party was going full blast. Within a half hour Ken and Josephine had paired up. They knew that this was real a love affair that would last a lifetime.

Almost, it lasted about 2 hours. The lights were off, all were drunk. Ken and Josephine were rolling around in a dark corner her bra was among the missing.

Josephine got up to go to the bathroom. Ken closed his eyes and leaned back drowsing. A few minutes later he felt her next to him he turned and kissed her in the dark. They were making out for a few minutes when he heard angry screaming. The lights came on and standing there was very pissed off Josephine. Diane was lying next to him. He tried to explain but Josephine would not listen. The party was over and everyone was thrown out. It was a long ride home on the El and the bus. Everyone was pissed at Ken for ruining the party.

Posted August 2, 2013 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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