Pappy

 Me and Pappy in 1997

I was a police officer in west Texas for 7 years in the 1980's.  I went to work for the PD out of high school at age 18 as a police cadet and 13 months later I received a call from my Deputy Chief asking if I wanted to go to the police academy.  I was all of 19 years old.  OF COURSE I wanted to go to the academy!!  What a great idea!!  Never mind the fact that I was two years too young to legally purchase a gun or bullets (that's a subject for future posts)--- by golly the law said that I was old enough to carry them and I was darned excited about it too! 

The story that I will tell here occurred about a year after I graduated the academy and was working on my own on patrol.  I was on the evening shift (my favorite), working 2:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.  I loved this shift because it was the busiest and when you are 19 you think that is a GOOD thing.  If calls were not coming in then you could easily find plenty to do working traffic and the shift passed quickly.  At the end of the shift I pulled into the sallyport to turn my car over to the next officer.  It was pretty much the same thing every night:  I turned Unit #1165 over to Officer Wilson, went in for debriefing and then went home.  That night I was probably in bed by midnight.  I know for sure that I was sleeping soundly at 6:30 a.m. the next morning because I was awakened from that sleep by my my sergeant calling me to ask me about what I had done with my patrol car the night before.  In my haze I answered that I had turned it over to Officer Wilson just as I always did and Sarge said, "Oh, okay" and hung up.  I laid back down, but about a minute later I bolted upright and grabbed the phone to call him back, "Sarge" I said, "I didn't turn the car over to Wilson, he's on vacation.  I parked it on 3rd Street near the other units."  "I know", he replied, "It's still there, running, with the keys locked inside."  By this time I was wide awake and scrambling to get dressed because I knew what was coming next.  He said, "I guess you better come down and figure this out."  I was probably halfway to the station before he hung up the phone.  Once I walked in I headed to the sergeant's office and unfortunately the day shift lieutenant was there with him.  They pointed to the back door without saying a word.  Before I started my walk of shame I headed to the equipment room.  Lieutenant said, "Where ya going?" and I answered, "Just going to grab the lockjock" (a lockjock is a slim, flexible metal device with a hooked end that slides down between the window and door frame enabling you to pop the door lock).  Lieutenant said, "Did you use the lockjock to lock your keys in your car?"  (((WHAT??)))  "No sir", I meekly replied, walking out the door empty handed.  Standing outside the back door, in the cold, uphill both ways (oh wait, that's for a different story) I could see Unit #1165 parked and still running.  It was cold enough that the exhaust was visible and more than 8 hours after I had parked the car, it was still going strong.  I walked over to the car and stood there.  What was I supposed to do?  I guess I was being taught a lesson.  I was trying not to cry, standing there freezing next to that running squad car.  I looked back and could see the lieutenant out on the back landing watching me.  Just watching. 

As I stood there I noticed another patrol car in the alley near where I stood.  Out of sight of the lieutenant, but waiting there.  I could not see who it was but I figured it was the district officer wanting to watch the show.  I stood there, hoping the lesson would not last too much longer, but I think the Lieutenant was enjoying this too much.  Finally I checked again over my shoulder and he had gone back inside.  About that time that patrol car in the alley eased out and came around behind me.  I saw that it was Pappy.  Pappy was a legend.  What a guy....respected by those on both sides of the law, he had been around a long time and worked on the south side, the "other side of the tracks" and often handled things on his own without needing backup.  Pappy pulled up close and said, "Rookie (which is what he called us all) what's the problem here?"  That's all it took.  The tears started flowing and I started blubbering about what was going on.  I know he did not expect that, but he took it in stride.  He leaned down within his car and came up with his own lockjock, handed it through the open window and I was able to unlock the door to my car.  I got in, turned the car off, got the keys, relocked the car and handed the tool back to Pappy.  My tears were now tears of relief as I tried to thank him but he just smiled and winked and drove on down the road.

If anyone was looking out the back door, they would have seen all this but no one ever said a word about it.  I put the keys away and went to let the sergeant and lieutenant know, wondering all the time what I would say if I was asked how I managed to get the keys out.  Thankfully no one was around so I slunk out of the station and went home.   Over the next few days I completed some paperwork and learned that no permanent damage appeared to have been done to the car and I prepared myself for the joking that I was sure to come my way.

To this day I don't remember anyone ever saying anything to me about it.  I was privileged to work more closely with Pappy about 8 years later when he was the bailiff in Municipal Court and approaching retirement.  We worked together there for 6 years before I moved to the Metroplex. He always acted as if he did not remember what I was talking about when I would try to talk to him and thank him for what he did for me years earlier, but I saw the twinkle in his eye.  He remembered, he just didn't want me making a big fuss over it.  When I left Municipal Court in 1997 they had a going away party for me.  The picture above is one that was taken that day.  Pappy retired the following year and passed away in 2004.  I sure hope he knows how much I admired and appreciated him.  I hope he knows I never forgot what he did for a rookie that day.