I am recording the family memories and I will post the ones of interest to this blog here. My parents were members of the auxiliary police force in the 34th precinct. Here is a bit about neighborhood crime, class distinction and pride.
“From the time they joined Grampa went out on a twice weekly patrol and Grandma only patrolled at “crowd control” events such as parades and street fairs. The rest of the time she accumulated her hours by volunteering as a typist in the reports room. This was a particularly fun job for Grandma because she had knowledge of what crimes were occurring and in which part of the neighborhood.
Grampa and Grandma’s building was once a very popular Jewish building with a mix of German Jews, YU students and couples, and families affiliated with shuls east of Broadway. By the late 80s it lost much of its Jewish community as crime in the city increased. By the early nineties it was probably time to move out. Grandma wouldn’t move because she was too proud to move down to Bennett Avenue, where she thought the people were too sheltered (perhaps). She felt that if she were to move it would be to Brooklyn to start over in a neighborhood that had “all the conveniences”. Grampa, of course, would quicker live in his car than move. So they remained.
Living on the “wrong side of the tracks” had its pitfalls. Loud music from neighbors, including on Shabbos afternoon. Drug deals immediately in front of the apartment windows. People sitting outside at night congregating. Actually, the people congregating was a plus. Muggings in the city often take place on a quiet block in a peaceful neighborhood. Congregating at night is part of Latin American culture where villagers meet in the town square for dominoes and eating after working a full day. These people in front of their buildings were not the criminals but the citizens.
Sometimes, someone from the other part of the neighborhood, of the type that lack scruples, would ask my mother why she does not move out of her building. The best way to handle such a blunt question would be a short and humble reply like, “It’s not perfect, but it’s home!” or “We have certain things that you don’t have on Bennett, and we don’t want to give that up!” But Grandma was a proud woman, and she was from the Bronx where the girls had some sass. She would quickly answer with her knowledge of the police reports. “Well, your building isn’t so safe. There were two muggings there and a burglary!” In truth she was right for shutting down intrusive questions and she was right that, ironically, crime was lower in our area- if you didn’t count petty drug peddling.
During their time as auxiliary police officers Grandma and Grampa received several citations (in police and military lingo that is a good thing, it doesn’t mean a traffic ticket) for helping apprehend criminals. Not for chasing them- but by calling or radioing in suspicious activity and license plate numbers or calling for assistance. That is all the auxiliary police is supposed to do. If they would chase criminals, they would need full training and a gun.
Grampa also received recognition for his service on 9/11. He was called that afternoon to help direct traffic off of the West Side Highway, away from ground zero.
As he remained in the auxiliary police Grandma complained to him that he rarely received a promotion. She was probably right that they were avoiding his promotion because there were one or two anti-Semites above him. For instance, occasionally if a holiday fell out on his night, he would sign the troupe in, but not close the books until after the Yom Tov. One time that he did this his commanding officer called the house at 2 a.m. and left a message on the machine asking when he will sign out. Haters can’t hide things for long.
As time passed it became inevitable that he receive a promotion. He became auxiliary sergeant, lieutenant, and eventually became the captain. As captain he taught the young troops how to salute and stand for roll call, as well as other formalities good for their discipline. He became a respected figure at the end of his time there.”
someone once lived here 