Archive for the ‘83’ Tag

Bitch, bitch, bitch   Leave a comment

Again I haven’t written for a while. I have to stop procrastinating and I will, maybe tomorrow. Spring is here and I have a lot of work around the house. So I thought I would throw a few lines out today. These are just a few things that irritate me. I was going to say confuse me but if I did that I would be writing for a week.

First a little warning, if any Met or Yankee fan is considering getting DISH TV and wants MLB Extra Innings be advised they don’t carry the home feed for either team. In the past I have had Extra Innings with Direct TV and with cable both carried the NY teams home feed. I called DISH and was told that SNY was the most requested channel they have but they don’t carry it. I was also told I will still get all the Mets games the only difference is I will get the opposing teams feed. First I would rather get the Mets feed and two the Mets played the Phillies three games of them I got one game. The others were listed as not available.

Another irritating thing is I have been hearing a lot about the Opiod epidemic. They keep saying it is unprecedented. I remember as a cop in the eight-three in the seventies there were plenty of junkies around. They may have been using heroin instead of prescription meds but it is still an opiod. I remember seeing a lot of shooting galleries. There was one on Myrtle Avenue just off Wilson Avenue. On the second floor the glassine envelopes and aluminum foil packets were two or three inches deep. When you walked through the vacant apartments they covered your ankles.

I remember when my son was playing little league baseball they had a speaker come to give the teams a talk on the dangers of drugs. The kids, parents and coaches were all sitting in the grass listening to him. He gave a good class until he got on cigarettes. Now I am glad he spoke about avoiding cigarettes and the effect they have on your health but he said one thing that I thought was insane. He stated that cigarettes are worse for you and more addictive then heroin. He said it several time during his presentation. Afterwards I had to speak to him about it. I told him there is no comparison that heroin is the worst drug in the world. That heroin addicts have no family or friends that their life is totally devoted to getting their next fix. He answered that it is the same with cigarettes but that they are a harder habit to kick. I asked him if he had ever seen a heroin junkie trying to kick. He told me not personally but he had the books to prove his point. I told him that I have seen a lot of junkies needing a fix. That they scream and cry in pain, stomach cramps, uncontrollable shakes and that is only the beginning. I told him junkies go through that cigarette smokers who need a cigarette get cranky. I could not convince him he said his books said cigarette smoking is more addictive so it was. I really believe part of the opiod problem is that kids think heroin can’t be too bad if cigarettes are worse.

I also hear of the unprecedented number of homicide of Police Officers. Again I can remember in the seventies in New York it seemed any time we removed our black mourning bands we were putting them back on in a week or two. I have no idea how many Inspectors’ Funerals I have been to. I have to admit despite the fact that New York’s super liberal politicians hate cops guts they do throw them nice funerals. They love all the pomp and pageantry involved in dead cops plus they can use it to get a lot of TV face time. The same with the media they all hate live cops but love dead ones. It gets ratings.

Lastly anytime a cop is in the paper or on TV for anything they always bring up that he has prior complaints against him for brutality. The only way you can slide through without civilian complaints is to be an empty suit to do nothing at all. Any cop who goes out and is active, making arrests and doing the job is going to have civilian complaints lodged against him. I had several perps tell me not to take offense that they it was their lawyer’s idea. The Legal Aid lawyer told him that he could use it to get a better plea deal.

Anyway that’s enough complaining for one day. I will write again soon.

Past Midnight for a Bushwick Cinderella   1 comment

Midnight clockOne midnight a woman came in to report her daughter missing.
I asked her, “How old is your daughter?”
“Twenty two”
“It’s midnight Friday night. That’s not really late, your daughter is an adult maybe she just went out with friends after work for a couple of drinks.”
She got pissed at me.
“Are you saying my daughter is a drunken tramp? She would never stay out this late.”
“It’s only midnight if there’s no reason to believe she is in danger we can’t take a report after only a few hours.”

“My daughter is a good girl. She comes home right after work. She is not some prostitute out all hours of the night. I want you to get out there and find her.”
“Okay, Let me talk to the Sergeant and see what we can do.”
I told Sergeant Capp what was going on.
“Unless you can find a reason to file it. Just take the information. Tell her if she doesn’t hear from her daughter by seven to call us back and we’ll file it. That’s the best I can do. If she doesn’t like it too bad.”
I went back and explained the situation. She was not happy but accepted it because I told her if she didn’t the Sergeant would just tell her to come back in two days.
I got the information for the report the daughter’s name, address, height, weight etc. Then I started looking for anything I could use to file the report just to get her out of there.
“Do you have any reason to believe she is in danger?”
“What do you mean?”
“Has she been hanging out with any bad people?”
“NO, I told you she is a good girl. You keep talking about her like she is a tramp.”
“I’m sorry I have to ask the questions. Does she have any mental problems or limitations?”
“Now you’re calling her crazy or retarded. She is a very smart girl.”
“Does she have any physical problems?”
“Like what?
“Does she need any drugs?”
“Now you’re saying she is a junkie.”
“No, No, I meant like insulin. Is she diabetic?”
“Oh, no.”
“Is she epileptic?”
“Epileptic? Shit no, She’s a Baptist.”
With that I sent her home saying I will call in the morning.
I called the mother at 7:30 and she advised the daughter came home at 6. She had spent the night with a co-worker. The guy at the next desk. Somehow the mother believed it was my fault.

Posted April 14, 2014 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

Tagged with , , , , , , , ,

Monkey Misadventure   Leave a comment

PatrolOn their last 4×12 tour Harry and Sean got a call about a monkey in a vacant lot on Myrtle and Evergreen. When they arrived a large group had gathered. The agitated crowd was pointing at the lot and yelling to the cops as they exited their sector car.
Sean hushed the crowd and picked one woman to speak to.
“What’s going on where’s the monkey?”
“It’s in the lot. I saw it running around. I was so scared. I thought it would come out after me. I saw where it’s hiding.”
She pointed to a door lying atop one of the piles of trash in the lot.
“The monkey is under that door. Watch out for it. It looks dangerous.”
With a smug smile Sean said, “Relax lady, I got this. It’s just a monkey not King Kong.”
Sean thought it really doesn’t take too much to get these assholes excited. I’ve seen plenty of spider monkeys running around here. It’s no big deal. I got my heavy leather gloves and a horsehide leather uniform jacket. I’ll just grab the little bastard and toss him into this bag. No problem, these assholes expecting a big show are going to be disappointed today.
Sean crept to the door. He could hear the monkey underneath. He scanned the crowd and shook his head. They were oohing an aahing like he was doing something amazing, idiots. Sean grasped the door with his left hand. He looked up and waved to the crowd. Smiling he threw the door up and snatched at the little spider monkey.
Unfortunately there was no little spider monkey there. The crowd was right to be excited. Sean was the asshole today.
His hand stopped about an inch from the meanest set of teeth he had ever seen. It felt like one of those old cartoons come to life. Sean was sure his eyeballs popped six inches out of his head. It wasn’t a spider monkey it was a mandrill, a baboon. We have all seen them in pictures and at the zoo. They really are kind of cute with the bright reds and blues on their face.
However Sean discovered a mandrill is much bigger and nowhere near as cute when there are no bars between you and it. They were inches apart, face to face, eye to eye. It looked to Sean like someone had stuck the muzzle of the biggest meanest Doberman pinscher to the face of a gorilla. It had its mouth open wide enough to bite Sean’s head off baring fangs that seemed about two inches long.
Both Sean and the mandrill screamed. It like an enraged beast and Sean like a twelve year old girl. A little caveman in the back of Sean’s head was screaming. RUN! He took the advice and was off like a shot. Up a tree in that vacant lot in about two seconds.
Then it occurred to him why the hell was he climbing a tree when being chased by a monster monkey. He dove out of the tree onto a warehouse roof rolled over and pulled his gun. The mandrill had just pulled the door back and hid.
When he could breathe again he climbed down. Sean managed the walk of shame past the amused crowd with as much dignity as he could muster up. When Harry stopped laughing he had called for Emergency Service to come with a tranquilizer gun. It took three darts from Emergency Service to put that thing out. They took him away, where he went Sean never asked. They did say he was doing ok and should be fine.
Word spread rapidly through the division of Sean’s monkey misadventure. For the rest of the night Tarzan yells, monkey calls and some moron singing the theme song from the old King Kong cartoon blasted from the radio every time he answered a call.
Many people have told Sean the mandrill was more scared of him then he was of it. Sean didn’t believe that was possible then and still doesn’t. Sean would always hate Tarzan movies.

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

Tagged with , , , ,

The boxcar episode   9 comments

Boxcar This is a fictional story therefore anyone who says it really happened must be misremembering. Anyone who worked in the Eight-three back in the seventies knows that none of us would have ever actually done this in real life, heavens no. OK, now that that is out of the way here is the story.
Sean and Harry had just left the station house and were driving to get some coffee when as they passed the corner of Myrtle and Green. There they saw a drunk in the street yelling up to a second floor apartment. Coffee would have to wait awhile. They radioed Central and told them they had a pick up job. Gave the dispatcher the info, where they were and what was going on.
When they stopped and questioned the man a woman opened a second floor window and yelled down that he was her ex-boyfriend. He had been harassing her for over a year. It seemed pretty straight forward no physical violence, just a drunk. Harry and Sean talked to him awhile joked around a bit and got him to leave, easy job.
They got their coffee and parked but before their first sip central was calling. The drunk was back and yelling louder than ever. With a sigh Sean advised Central they would handle it and responded back. This time he was just hustled into the car and driven to his apartment about two miles away.

Sean said “Just go inside and sleep it off. Everything will be better in the morning.”

He begged, “Please make her take me back. I love her and I know she loves me.”

“Look do not to go back there, she doesn’t love you. She hates you and I am starting to see why. Go inside and sleep it off.”

There were only two cars available in the precinct that night so they did not want to waste any more time than they had to with him. They hoped it would be over now.
The night returned to normal they finished their coffee and answered a couple of jobs. Then Central called, he was back again. Now it was after one and they were pretty sick of him. They pulled up and threw him into the car without a word. They drove to Queens and threw him out of the car in Forest Park. He had been dropped off over 5 miles away. They went back to answering normal midnight calls.
About 0300 Central called he was back again.

Sean told Harry, “Well we have to admit, he is one persistent little bastard. But they had finally had it with him. They threw him back in the car and this time drove to the train yards in sector George. There they tossed him into an empty box car and put a nail through the hasp so he could not get out. He was told to get some sleep, they would stop by and get him in the morning. With him out of the way they worked the rest of an uneventful night. When the sun came up around seven they went back to let him out. The box car was not there. Not wanting to spend an hour checking them all they asked one of the workers where that box car was. He advised that it had left for Georgia at about 5:30. It may not have been the Midnight Train to Georgia but it was close enough for government work. They never saw or heard from him again. Sean hoped he liked the south.
The boxcar graphic came from this blog. http://bbandm.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/boxcar-graffiti/. Check it out he has some good photos there.

Posted June 13, 2013 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

Tagged with , ,

The Exorcist?   1 comment

I have gotten more questions about the book. So here goes. It will be one year from New Year’s Eve to New Year’s Eve. It is about one cop and the squad he works with. It covers jobs, love affairs, parties etc. All aspects of life in the precinct. Now it is a novel so expect it to be a novel inspired by the 83 of the 70’s. If anybody sees anything familiar or appears to recognize himself or anyone else it is a coincidence. Here is a one of the stories from the book. I have changed it a bit from the book to fit here. I hope this gives you a feel for the book.

I returned to the precinct one day from court. Lt. Shaky King was on the desk. A man came in screaming that he was possessed that devils were trying to make him hurt people. We all recognized him. We had sent him to Kings County’s G building before. Lt. King immediately advised the patrol Sgt. who had stopped in that he had the desk. Lt. King was now on meal. He would remain on meal until the situation was settled.  Sgt. Capp said take that asshole into the back. He said he will have a footman respond to take the pyscho. We cuffed him and brought him to the back room to wait for an ambulance. It was taking awhile and to liven up the day one of the anti crime guys decided to do a little acting. He was about 6′ 1″ with shoulder length brown hair and a full beard. He ran upstairs took off his clothes and came down with a sheet wrapped around him like a robe. He said ” I have come down to cleanse the demons from you. Out Demons leave this child in peace.” Our psycho turned to us and asked if we could see him. We told him all we could see was a glow. He immediately calmed down and with tears in his eyes told us that God had come down and exorcised the devils from him. The ambulance finally came and took him away with the footman riding escort. Our pyscho had been  roaming the streets for years and talking to himself. When he got out two weeks later he got a job and we never had to deal with him again. He always insisted that God had saved him. We never told him it was an Italian cop with a wife and a girlfriend.

Posted November 23, 2012 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

Tagged with , , ,

Book   4 comments

Some people have asked what the book I am writing is about. I am trying to evoke the feeling of what it was like to work in the Eight Three during the seventies. Not a memoir but more inspired by, sort of like M*A*S*H. I want to show the differences between what is presented on TV and the way it really was. Those who were there no it was not Adam-12. Our corner cop bar was not a classy place filled with beautiful people. We had a place so low class it didn’t even have a name. The B&G for Bar and Grill. I don’t know where the grill came from. As for beautiful people we had Doll Face. She didn’t get the name for her beauty. She had so much make up on her face looked liked it had been stamped out of plastic. She would drink herself into a coma every day.

On the street we had Wanda the witch. She would call every once in a while because she was stuck in the tub. Of course she had to get out of the tub and unlock the door before she called. She had also been known the flash the sector car if she saw one pass with no one around.We had Charley the drunk. Bushwick’s own Otis. Harmless and pitiful. There was Hercules who could fold a quarter in half with two fingers. Nice guy sober but a real nasty drunk. His wife was the only thing he feared when he had his load on. Then there were the Saxon’s. Mean sober mean drunks. Of course we had the blackout. This is only the tip of the iceberg. Those who worked there should remember most of these. I hope to give those who didn’t work there an understanding of what we lived through. I hope to do this not with actual events or people but with stories loosely inspired by the precinct.

Posted November 21, 2012 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

Tagged with , , , ,

Aethereal Engines

Stories of Imaginative and Speculative Fiction by Jason H. Abbott

Michael Ray King

Book Coach, Award-winning Author, Motivational Speaker

ELICITZ OF LIFE

My Elicits, an Inception... Learning to Live in Perfection

The Jenny Mac Book Blog

Jenny Mac and the Man of Secrets

Rolling on the Floor laughing !!!

Smile :) >> You’re at The Best and Funniest Rofl Blog Ever

borough of lost boys

creative non-fiction. pursuit of truth.

Moolta

The official Moolta Blog

helobiae

a celebration of life

The Eagle's Nest

The Everything, Nothing, Something, Anything, My Thing weblog

Parenting And Stuff

Not a "how to be a great parent" blog

Christ! Xmas

all about Christmas and Santa.

Blood Mass

They kill at night then hide in the day.

Whisper As You Wander

Finding angels,fairies,and the wonders of New York City

chefjoshs

deep thoughts by chef josh

mindiarrhea

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

kellyjeanholmes

An Un-Authorized Manual

Life Without Bullshit

The raw truth is like sushi for the soul...it's healthy for ya!

Frances Ellen Speaks

Ideas, Thoughts, Memoirs, News, and a little bit of this and that.