GETTING HOOKED-UP BY NEW YORK'S FINEST

In observance of Veteran's Day, I would like to thank all those in the military, past, present and future, for their great sacrifice and selflessness.

YOU ARE ALL HEROES AND I SALUTE YOU FOR STANDING IN HARM'S WAY TO HELP PRESERVE OUR FREEDOM, AMERICAN VALUES AND WAY OF LIFE.

I would like to also give kudos to domestic agencies whose people risk their lives every day but aren't acknowledged with a specific national holiday, (police, firefighters, emergency personnel and postal workers...even if their threat is from friendly fire).

Today, I will concentrate with the police because we have the most contact and highest reliance on them. Plus, because its easy to focus on the negative press they get and the resulting sensationalism, I believe its important for us to understand that overwhelmingly the cops, under stressful conditions, do a great job and deserve tons more credit than they get. To maintain this support, I have instilled this appreciation into my son Andrew.

While on his learner's permit, (Andrew will be getting his driver's license in three months), I have accepted both the bulk and "joy" of teaching him the rules of the road. In so doing, I have drilled into his head these two beliefs. First, whenever you see the police, take your foot off the accelerator and check your speed. Second, if you are stopped, to minimize the officer's possible anxiety, keep both hands in plain sight atop the steering wheel, (at night, flick on the dome light too).

In using these suggestions, I have reduced my contact with the police. Then on the rare occasion that I am in contact with them, the respect and sensitivity I have exhibited, has resulted in me being treated fairly. I have also received leniency even when I didn't expect it. I still feel that way even though a gun was once pointed at my head during a routine traffic stop in Las Vegas (October 1980) and more recently, I'm certain that I was being profiled as an out-of-state driver when I was served a $187.00 nonsense/nuisance ticket for using a "Car Pool Only" exit (in no traffic) in Fairfax Virginia (June 2010).

I will now share with you two of my favorite "kind-cop" stories that I've heard and one of my own.

The Western Casino was the worst job of my gaming career. I might have made less money at Slots-A-Fun but the Western was a toilet and attracted such grungy clientele that during weekday afternoons, our craps table struggled to get $100.00 in drop, (cash buy-ins). This meant that most of the time, we were open for business with no customers. That translated into hours of idle conversation, playing games like "20 Questions" and my favorite, staring off into space.

THE WESTERN, 899 FREMONT STREET, AS I REMEMBERED IT DURING MY SIX-WEEK STINT, (SPRING 1979). TWO SUMMERS AGO WHILE IN VEGAS, I VISITED THE WESTERN. LIKE PUTTING A BAND-AID ON CANCER, THEIR COMPLETE REMODELING EFFORT WAS WASTED, BECAUSE IT WAS STILL THE ULTIMATE, FILTHY DIVE. TO PROVE IT, EVERYONE WAS REQUIRED TO WIPE THEIR FEET BEFORE GOING BACK ON THE STREET.

One of my fellow craps dealers at the Western was Terry. He was in his thirties and unlike the rest of us break-ins, Terry was a retread. We newbies were struggling to make our way up but Terry had already fallen from the top. He worked several years at the Frontier Casino and made tons of money. So being reduced to the penny-ante Western, left him jaded, cynical and rude. The other bubbly dealers couldn't relate to his indifference to the job but on dead games, he was admired for his wealth of colorful casino and non-casino stories.

He once said about his rural Northeastern Pennsylvania upbringing, "Where I lived, a man either grew up to become a coal miner, priest or criminal. I thought there had to be more to life so I hit the road." Terry settled in San Francisco in the early sixties and prefaced all those stories by proclaiming, "I was the world's first hippie." He lived in an apartment in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and used to say, "I didn't need a TV, if I wanted to see action, all I had to do was look out the window and see around the clock sex, violence and rock n roll."

The one story he told that brought a smile to his withered face and brightened his bloodshot eyes was going to the Fillmore Auditorium on December 10, 1965. That night he saw, "The Grateful Dead," in their first concert after changing their name from the "Warlocks." (Among other groups, the "Jefferson Airplane" also appeared). "THE FILLMORE," WAS THE FOCAL POINT FOR PSYCHEDELIC MUSIC AND ITS COUNTERCULTURE. LOCATED AT FILLMORE AND GEARY, IT'S WHERE THE PACIFIC HEIGHTS, JAPANTOWN AND WESTERN ADDITION SECTIONS MEET.

Before the concert, Terry picked up some friends in Marin County. On the way back to San Francisco, everyone in his crowded VW bus was already tripping on LSD as he got to the Golden Gate Bridge. THE VOLKSWAGEN TYPE 2, T1, HAS BEEN IN PRODUCTION SINCE 1950. IT IS COMMONLY KNOWN AS A VW BUS, VW TRANSPORTER OR KOMBI. WHEN CUSTOM DESIGNED IN THE PSYCHEDELIC DAYS , IT WAS CALLED A HIPPIE BUS, HIPPIE VAN OR HIPPIEMOBILE.

At the crest of the bridge, the piercing sound of a police siren got Terry's attention. In the rear view mirror, he saw a patrol car zooming up from behind. He stopped in the left lane. The gruff officer chose to ignore the billowing marijuana aroma and said in a southern accent, "Son. Do you realize how fast you were going?" Terry tried to come off as innocently as possible without insulting the man's intelligence and shrugged, "I dunno, 65 maybe 70?" The officer said, "Son, you were going eleven miles per hour. Now tell me, are you too drunk to drive this vehicle safely off the bridge?" Terry smiled internally and said, "Yes, I'm too drunk." The officer told Terry to squeeze into the back. The squad car was temporarily abandoned as the policeman got into the VW's driver seat. He lectured Terry on his responsibility to other motorists and his own passengers as he drove them off the bridge. After issuing a warning, he made Terry promise not to drive until he sobered up.

Another "kind-cop" story happened when I worked at the Las Vegas Golden Nugget, (1982-1984). My friend Mateo was going through the divorce wringer and came out with only the clothes on his back. A year later, in a move that he described as; mental masturbation, he scrounged up every cent he could and bought a used Corvette. This selfish pleasure helped him achieve his life-long dream of owning a sports car and zooming it through the desert after work, (5:AM).

DECEMBER 1982, MATEO PULLS UP AT MY CONDO WEARING NOTHING BUT HIS NEW 'VETTE AND A SMILE.

Mateo had weekend custody of his two sons, (three and five). The boys were fascinated by daddy's new toy especially because of the enthusiasm their father had for it at a time when he was riddled with depression. One afternoon, the kids talked him into a joy ride. On the way back from the wilderness, Mateo slowed down to 95MPH. At the city limits, two motorcycle cops chased him down. Mateo pulled over and waited. The officers strode up to the car. Then the boys poked their head through the T-Roof and the older son said, "Look Jimmie, its Ponch and Jon.""CHiPs" WAS A POPULAR TV "DRAMEDY" FROM 1977-1983. THE SHOW STARRED ERIK ESTRADA AS PONCH AND LARRY WILCOX AS JON. IT FEATURED OVER-THE-TOP FREEWAY COLLISIONS, NO ACTUAL VIOLENCE AND PLENTY OF HUMOR.

The approaching officers couldn't hold back their smiles. After all the paperwork checked-out, Mateo was told he was lucky he had cute kids. But if he was ever caught going that fast again, nothing would help him.

Last week I had a "kind-cop" experience of my own. My wife and I took Andrew and two of his friends to play tourist, in Manhattan. We started with window shopping in Greenwich Village. After lunch, we took the subway to Rockefeller Center. Along Fifth Avenue we made several stops including the Nintendo and Apple Stores.THE ALLURE OF RIDING THE SUBWAY HASN'T CHANGED IN 30+ YEARS. GUYS ARE STILL EATING OUT OF TRASHCANS, THERE'S NO SHORTAGE OF FOLKS TALKING TO THEM SELF, MEN IN TRENCH COATS ON SUNNY DAYS WILL ALWAYS LOOK SUSPICIOUS AND VARIOUS RELIGIOUS CULTS AND BEGGARS ARE EVERYWHERE. ON THE POSITIVE SIDE, WE SAW NO RATS, MICE, ROACHES OR OTHER PESTILENCE.

Rush hour was over when we re-traced our steps back to the car. We decided to swing by Ground Zero on our way to Little Italy. After we paid our respects, we were going north on the Westside Drive. I ran through a yellow light, side by side with a taxi on my left. A half-block up, there was an unexpected traffic light and two policemen. I found myself in a right turn only lane and blocked by the cab. I was forced to make the right. While turning, I read the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel sign. I saw a third cop, a sergeant and pulled over. I called out ti him, "I don't want to go to Brooklyn." The sergeant smirked, "Nobody does." The other two policemen came over and one said, "If you didn't want to go in the tunnel, you should have gone straight." I said, "I was in a right turn only lane." He said, "We wouldn't have stopped you." The other cop said, "Well, you can't stay here." I joked, "Could you help me back out?" And they did. One went back onto the Westside Drive and held up traffic. The other officer guided me from the back and the sergeant remained at my side and orchestrated the whole move...very cool.

So whether its Veteran's Day or not...regardless of your politics, never forget there are dedicated individuals serving us around the world and around the corner. They are doing a job that few of us could ever imagine our self doing...so please appreciate their work and remember that they are people too.