Since most of us are of different ages, we all have memories of lots of Policemen from all communities. There were many before I came along and there have been many since. I can't imagine any being any more "colorful" than those that worked during my formative years. I'm sure that during this era (fifties & sixties) each community had policemen that "made memories" for us, but the particular ones I mention here were the ones that I considered "friends." Having been a small town mayor myself, I have a pretty good insight of the enormus hours of specialized training required for policemen today. They are very professional. In the "old days," however, most of their education was by the "seat of their britches!" Here are some of my favorite "Police Stories."
When I was in high school, I had an afternoon job that began each day at 3:30 p.m. School got out at 2:20, which gave me about an hour a day to just "hang out" with some buddies, usually in one of the "sit down" restaurants. Our favorite was the Kentucky Grill. Each day a group of four or five of us would go to the Kentucky Grill for some fellowship, Tater Tots and a Coke and to discuss the events of the day.
Our "leisure hour" was shared most days with the majority of the Central City Police Department. The Department only had about three or four full-time policemen and the two most prominent were Chief Jim Bob Wilson and Asst. Chief Arvil Woods. These guys were the closest thing I know to Andy and Barney of Mayberry except from time to time they actually did have to fight some crime in the form of raiding bootleggers, breaking up fights and things like that. Most of their evenings was spent trying to keep teen-agers in line which was pretty difficult (there were a lot of us "baby boomers" back then).
The policemen usually met at the "Grill" about the same time we did. They always sat at the same table, the only round table in what was then a rear corner of the dining area. Their group usually consisted of Chief Wilson, Officer Woods, State Troopers Darrell Curry and Herb Johnson and sometimes a Sheriff or Deputy. Andy Kotsirus, the owner of the Grill at that time, always knew they were coming and usually had their coffee poured and already in place at their table. Being as "resouceful" as we were and always "looking for a laugh," we found an opportunity to pull an occasional prank on the lawmen. This particular day, we came up with a classic idea. We usually got to the Grill about ten minutes before the policemen so we had time to formulate a strategy. Up on the counter, directly next to the cash register was a "placard" to which several little packets of Alka Seltzer were attached. Each packet had two Alka Seltzer tablets and they sold for a dime each. There were about ten of them on the card (twenty tablets), so we "pooled" our money and came up with a dollar and purchased all of the Alka Seltzers. We then went back to our table and using the sugar bowl (actually it was a jar...you poured the sugar into a spoon from it), we carefully "crushed" the tablets, still in their little packets. We did this until we felt they were nearly powder. We then opened the top of the sugar jar, tore open each packet and poured them directly into the sugar jar. After doing this, we then "traded" sugar jars with the policemen. Andy already had their coffee (4 cups) poured and waiting on them at their table. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later they all filed into the grill, removed their hats and slid into the round booth.
Jim Bob Wilson proceeded to pick up his spoon (he liked his coffee with sugar....LOTS OF SUGAR!). As he poured the contents into his cup, he never looked down and never stopped talking. All of a sudden, his buddies sort of "backed up" and looked at Jim Bob's coffee, which by this time began to foam over like there was no tommorrow. Jim Bob looked down and saw that foam was going everywhere. Andy saw the emergency and came over to wipe up the mess but the cup was foaming faster than he could clean it up. I thought Jim Bob was going to pull his trusty revolver and shoot the cup. We tried to look innocent but the empty Alka Seltzer placard was evidence enough to make us come up with an "Alford Plea" before it was even invented. Thank Goodness everyone had a great sense of humor and no harm was done (besides ruining a perfectly good cup of coffee).
In the early sixties, the Police Department only had one cruiser. It was a 1960 Chevrolet Biscayne 4 Door Sedan with a 6 cylinder engine and a "three on the tree," (hot rodder's lingo for a standard transmission with the shift lever located on the steering column rather than the floor). The car was the ugliest green you could imagine (sort of between a pea and an army jeep). Policemen pretty much always had to ride in pairs since there was only one car. Most Policemen worked extremely long hours, mostly in the late afternoon until about midnight....when the teens were out on the prowl. About the only early day shift policemen were "Soda Pop" Payne and T. H. Stewart, whose duties were mostly meter patrolmen in the downtown area.
1n 1960, the Central City Jaycees joined with the state organization and promoted driving safely. They did this by selling (it was also a fundraiser for the club) a light called a "safety light," which was a low power single light about 3" in diameter that was installed directly in the center of a car's grill. They must have sold 200 of these lights because it seemed that about every car had one. They lasted about a month.
All of them, that is, except the one installed on the Central City Police Cruiser. That light must have burned the whole time they had that car, which was about three or four years. It was funny because you could see them coming for about a mile and since it was wired directly to the ignition switch, it was on whenever the key was turned to "on," which was 100% of the time in a car that depended on radios for communication. This meant that when they tried to sit on a side street or parking lot and "hide" to catch speeders (or reckless drivers), they couldn't hide. You could see this light from everywhere. Sometimes a couple of hot rods would go out over the toll road for a quick drag race.
They'd usually go out to "Five Spot," turn around and line up beside each other, heading toward town. Sometimes they'd see an oncoming car about a mile away that had either three or five lights (depending on whether they were on "bright" or "dim"). When they saw this, the car on the inside (passing) lane would simply pull in front of the other car and the two of them would convoy back into town like a couple of Grandmas.
If the city police ever wrote a ticket for drag racing, I don't know when it was.
One day (I was told this) a phone call came into the City Building from Ohio. County Sheriff's Dept. They said that the Bank of Centertown had just been robbed and the robber was probably heading toward Central City. He was driving a red Ford (or something similar). Jim Bob happened to be in front of the Kentucky Grill and the person who told me this story was sitting in the passenger seat of the police car. They were talking about fishing. In a few minutes, Jim Bob casually excused himself, got out of the car and stepped into the road (Highway 62).
A red Ford was coming down the highway from Ohio Co. and Jim Bob stood in the middle of his lane and began waving his hands back and forth over his head. Remarkably the car stopped. Jim Bob then casually walked up to the driver's window, unholstered his weapon and told the young driver to "get out of the car." The driver followed his order and Jim Bob had him turn around and he handcuffed him right there in the middle of the road. He then placed his suspect in the rear seat of the cruiser, went back and got a "satchel" from the front seat and parked the car in the parking lot of the grill. He took the gentleman to the Muhlenberg County Jail for extradition to Ohio County. He told me several years later that he never felt threatened by the robber.
Later that year, the Muhlenberg County Fair was going on down at the old fairgrounds. It was customary for many years to give away a new car on Saturday night of the event and you had to be present to win. Everyone was given numbered tickets that they either got on the gate that night or from one of several merchants who sponsored the fair and gave away the tickets. The winner was drawn by shooting five spinning wheels that were numbered from 0 to 9. If you held the ticket whose number matched the five spinning discs, you won the car.
It was also customary to invite one of our local lawmen to do the shooting. This particular year it was Chief Wilson's turn. I happened to be the announcer at that particular event that night and he asked me to announce that he was "shooting with the same gun that apprehended the Centertown Bank Robber." I don't believe Wyatt Earp would have gotten a bigger hand if he had been shooting with the "same gun used at the OK corral." Jim Bob was the "hometown hero" that night, and rightfully so!
If Jim Bob was "Andy," then our "Barney" had to be Arvil Woods. Arvil was a jovial fellow and he could tell a good joke. We all liked him and he was always "lenient" towards young people. I'm sure we got away with more than we should have but Arvel never made us feel like we were criminals. I remember him telling a group of us at the Dairy Maid one night..."Boys, there's about 100,000 acres of deserted strip mine land in Muhlenberg County where you can "hoot and holler and howl at the moon" without botherin' anybody and you all feel you gotta have a beer here at the Dairy Maid. It just doesn't make any sense!" We knew he was right.
As jolly as he was, Arvil wouldn't back down from a fight. He's gone to clubs and illegal dance halls and stepped right in the middle of the action sending everyone home. You had to commit a pretty serious crime or be awfully drunk for Arvil to haul you to jail. Usually on Friday nights, and because we could sleep in on Saturday mornings, several of us would meet at the "Y" cafe for a burger and fries before we went home. The "Y" was always busy on these nights and they usually had their share of people who stopped by after a night of dancing and drinking at the American Legion for a meal. One night we couldn't help but notice a young fellow sitting in the back all by himself. He was "taking up" a table for four although he was by himself. He appeared to be rather drunk and eventually "passed out" at the table. Don Sallee, who owned the "Y" at the time, called the Police and soon Jim Bob and Arvel came in and went to the back table. They awakened the man and helped him get up to go to the cruiser for a ride downtown to the city jail to sleep it off. They escorted him to the front door, one on each side. The young man could hardly walk on his own. As they came to the front door, they removed their hold on him so he could get through the door and as soon as he got outside, he took off running with all of his might. With him being about twenty-five years old, both policemen knew it would be a waste of time to try to "outrun" him. Across the street, Bill Duvall owned a camper dealership and had several camping trailers and a few Motorhomes in his inventory. As the young man ran toward them, Arvil removed his pistol from it's holster and yelled "Halt or I'll Shoot!" When the man didn't heed the warning, Arvel "popped" off about five or six shots over his head. This only made him run faster. Even though the shots were well over the head of the fugitive, unfortunately they weren't over the heads of about three brand new Motorhomes. All six connected with one of these.
I never found out who the young man was (and I doubt if they did) nor did I ever know who paid for the damage to Bill's Motorhomes.
There are many more stories I could tell involving the Police Department but time and space require me to hold them until a future blog. Today when I see a policeman (they're all young now) with their "buzz cut" hairdos, rock solid bodies and college degrees, it makes me think back to those old days when lawmen were "rough cut" and educated by the school of hard knocks. Funny, but I actually felt "safer" in those days.
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