When I was a rookie, a veteran Sgt. Robert Dennis, became my tutor. At the time you could work months before you went to the academy, so someone had to show you the ropes. When Chief Ben Caruthers hired me, he gave me a gun and a city map, showed me where the law books were, and said go get 'em, hoss.
Sgt Dennis was a smooth operator. Slow-talking, even-tempered, and a treat for the ladies. One evening he was showing a rookie how to handle people who were drunk and disorderly.
"Never hit a drunk. It is not an opportunity to play catchup for having a bad day. Don't know about you, but I've been drunk myself and done some dumb things. I appreciated when people overlooked and didn't take advantage. If you handle yourself properly there is never any reason to hit one. I have no respect for cops that do." It was good advice.
"Now," he said, "the Cardinal rule; never, never, ever, hit a woman. Never. No way you can win. She can be as big as King Kong, and twice as smelly, but you lay one finger on her, in the eyes of the public you're wrong. You understand?"
The rookie nodded yes.
"That's never," he said, making eye contact for emphasis.
Just happened they were dealing with a woman. A respected member of the community, an architect's wife. We'll call here June. Well liked, respected, she was into charities, lived in the right neighborhood, and knew the best people. She was also a binge drunk, who'd been picked up stoned in her Caddy. And when she was drowning in liquid stupid she wasn't worth a damn. Filthy-mouthed, demeaning, unruly.
That night, they'd taken June into the front office and were trying to contact her husband to come get her. She wouldn't sit still, finally jumping to her feet, crashing through the front door, and falling off the porch with a grand thud. Fearing she'd hurt herself, they rushed to her and lifted her up. The angel of drunken mercy had saved her--no damage. And her mouth was working perfectly.
"Like to touch me, huh? I knew it. I saw you staring at 'em. Well, here," she said, ripping off her blouse and pulling down her bra, "have a good look."
Sgt. Dennis tried to pull up her bra, or get her blouse back around her, but that wasn't working. The rookie was frozen stupid, not knowing what to do. Wrestling June, Dennis lost balance and fell into a chair. June mounted him, smothering his face with her, uh, accouterments, and humming what, to the rookie, sounded like the kid's tub tune, Rubber Ducky.
Dennis pushed her off, but she charged again, this time landing a healthy haymaker on his honker. He muttered an oath, and delivered a short karate kinda chop to June's neck that put her to sleep. Instantly.
It turned out, June wasn't hurt. She didn't even remember what'd happened. Her husband arrived, took her home, and they were done with her until the next time. That left just the sergeant and rookie. The rookie looked at him.
Dennis shrugged, said, What?????"
"The never, never thing. . ."
Sgt Robert Dennis smiled. "That's never, never . . .unless they start actin' like a man. Then, it's the Bap, Zoom thing," imitating Jackie Gleason's famous to the moon, Alice gesture.
"And, the last rule, one I forgot to tell you," he concluded, "don't let anybody see ya do it."
Sgt Dennis was a smooth operator. Slow-talking, even-tempered, and a treat for the ladies. One evening he was showing a rookie how to handle people who were drunk and disorderly.
"Never hit a drunk. It is not an opportunity to play catchup for having a bad day. Don't know about you, but I've been drunk myself and done some dumb things. I appreciated when people overlooked and didn't take advantage. If you handle yourself properly there is never any reason to hit one. I have no respect for cops that do." It was good advice.
"Now," he said, "the Cardinal rule; never, never, ever, hit a woman. Never. No way you can win. She can be as big as King Kong, and twice as smelly, but you lay one finger on her, in the eyes of the public you're wrong. You understand?"
The rookie nodded yes.
"That's never," he said, making eye contact for emphasis.
Just happened they were dealing with a woman. A respected member of the community, an architect's wife. We'll call here June. Well liked, respected, she was into charities, lived in the right neighborhood, and knew the best people. She was also a binge drunk, who'd been picked up stoned in her Caddy. And when she was drowning in liquid stupid she wasn't worth a damn. Filthy-mouthed, demeaning, unruly.
That night, they'd taken June into the front office and were trying to contact her husband to come get her. She wouldn't sit still, finally jumping to her feet, crashing through the front door, and falling off the porch with a grand thud. Fearing she'd hurt herself, they rushed to her and lifted her up. The angel of drunken mercy had saved her--no damage. And her mouth was working perfectly.
"Like to touch me, huh? I knew it. I saw you staring at 'em. Well, here," she said, ripping off her blouse and pulling down her bra, "have a good look."
Sgt. Dennis tried to pull up her bra, or get her blouse back around her, but that wasn't working. The rookie was frozen stupid, not knowing what to do. Wrestling June, Dennis lost balance and fell into a chair. June mounted him, smothering his face with her, uh, accouterments, and humming what, to the rookie, sounded like the kid's tub tune, Rubber Ducky.
Dennis pushed her off, but she charged again, this time landing a healthy haymaker on his honker. He muttered an oath, and delivered a short karate kinda chop to June's neck that put her to sleep. Instantly.
It turned out, June wasn't hurt. She didn't even remember what'd happened. Her husband arrived, took her home, and they were done with her until the next time. That left just the sergeant and rookie. The rookie looked at him.
Dennis shrugged, said, What?????"
"The never, never thing. . ."
Sgt Robert Dennis smiled. "That's never, never . . .unless they start actin' like a man. Then, it's the Bap, Zoom thing," imitating Jackie Gleason's famous to the moon, Alice gesture.
"And, the last rule, one I forgot to tell you," he concluded, "don't let anybody see ya do it."
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