A CVS Pharmacy has replaced the old Anchor Lounge on the corner of 3rd Avenue South and 9th Street (US 41). A logical choice--with their aspirins and bandages and all--considering the problems the Anchor caused the NPD. Of course, if you frequented the bar in the late afternoon, you'd noticed that several of the patrons wore a uniform of sorts: spit-shined black shoes, dark blue trousers, and a Hawaiian shirt. These were NPD cops who'd just gotten off duty and had exchanged their uniform shirt for a sporty one so they weren't officially in uniform. But, many times their afterwork toddy was interrupted by the fisticuffs that were a featured attraction at the dive.
When we had only two cars on duty, and it was late on a Friday or Saturday night, you dreaded to get a dispatch to the Anchor. You knew it was a bar brawl and, more times than not, the other unit on patrol was out on a call and you were IT. Cops, to stay in one piece, become resourceful and learn to take their time going to a bar fight. If you can stretch your arrival five-minutes or so chances are when you do get there you'll find the combatants all "fought out"--puffing and blowing, and no longer interested in being a bare-knuckles champ.
That was most of the time. Sometimes that trick didn't work. One night, on arrival, we found a unique pugilist. A slight little man, he was on top of one of the tables doing a flamenco of sorts like a drunken Jose Greco. A crowd of rabid drunks circled the table, taunting the terpsichorean and trying to grab him. When one swiped too close, Jose'd add a step to his repertoire whereby his foot smacked against his attacker's jaw--knocking him cross-eyed.
My associate and I were so intrigued that we stood by and watched for some time, enjoying the show. We finally decided we probably should restore law and order before our dancer sent all the patrons to the hospital. When we approached the table, he pointed at us with his foot indicating "you're next."
The cop who was with me was large and ill-tempered when taunted. And he carried a huge leather slap-jack that could've been used in the World Series. He took it out and brought it down on a table, producing a sound like a pine being hit by lightening.
The erstwhile Greco immediately changed his mind and gave us a smile signaling "just kidding of course" and jumped off the table. We hustled him outside, took him to the cruiser, then gave him a lecture and had his friends take him home. Jail? No way. He'd been too much fun. And we might need him again to clean out another rowdy crowd at the Anchor.
My associate and I were so intrigued that we stood by and watched for some time, enjoying the show. We finally decided we probably should restore law and order before our dancer sent all the patrons to the hospital. When we approached the table, he pointed at us with his foot indicating "you're next."
The cop who was with me was large and ill-tempered when taunted. And he carried a huge leather slap-jack that could've been used in the World Series. He took it out and brought it down on a table, producing a sound like a pine being hit by lightening.
The erstwhile Greco immediately changed his mind and gave us a smile signaling "just kidding of course" and jumped off the table. We hustled him outside, took him to the cruiser, then gave him a lecture and had his friends take him home. Jail? No way. He'd been too much fun. And we might need him again to clean out another rowdy crowd at the Anchor.
No comments:
Post a Comment