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| Look for the Monster |
| by David Ziskin |
As a child growing up in Baltimore in the 1950’s, I loved going to the movies. The
Forest Theatre on Garrison Boulevard had a deal for kids on Saturday mornings.
For the princely sum of 25 cents you could see a double-feature horror movie
show, complete with cartoons, newsreels, coming attractions, and a couple of
serials. You could get a box of candy for a nickel.
Times were pretty good for my family then, and my mother would often give me
thirty cents or even thirty-five cents for this purpose on Saturday. To attend this
day-long festival of 1950’s movie schlock with a friend was a great treat. It was a
simpler time. If you could forget the Cold War (as I could), the post-war period was
a peaceful, prosperous time. Then, as now, fun was at the top of my agenda.
The horror movies ran to a pattern. A boy and girl were on a picnic in the country
when the aliens or giant spiders or radioactive crustaceans or whatever menace
appeared. They ran into town and told the sheriff, but he wouldn’t believe them or
go with them to see the monster. Neither would their parents or various other
adults, and the monsters were unimpeded and undiscovered by the community for
quite a while.
I used to think that when I grew up and became the sheriff, I would always look for
the monster. After all, parents, grocers, truck drivers, and whomever else were not
law officers. The sheriff should respond differently. Besides, in the movie, it was
always a small town out in the desert. Did the sheriff have more urgent business?
An invasion of the planet would almost certainly be considered a “priority one call”
in the jargon of today’s computer-hindered dispatching.
Well, I never became the sheriff, but I was a street cop for many years, and I will
now tell young readers a universal truth about police work that you probably won’t
learn elsewhere – certainly not in formal training or from an administrator in police
work. Real policemen work the street. You can take it to the bank. The street,
simply put, is the soul of police work. Everything else is a hiding place or a support
function. Now, you doubt me. Thirty years from now, you will know I’m right.
You can tell how advanced a society is by the way its police behave. Street cops
get there first and make all of the important decisions in police work. Everybody
else is in the background, despite what you see on television. The first cop on the
scene represents our civilization and our system of laws. He or she is a living
symbol of the Bill of Rights and of society’s attitudes regarding both law breakers
and the vulnerable.
I answered hundreds, probably thousands, of calls from people reporting strange
things, like little people from Venus in the basement of the house. I always looked
for the monster. I never actually found the monster, but I always looked before I
asked the complainant if they had run out of their medication.
Delusional people, apart from the pathology of their illness, are not illogical. Nor
are they insensitive to the way they are regarded and spoken to by others. They
may look bizarre and they may say and do things that we would not, but at some
level which they may not express, they are keenly aware of how they are treated.
Listen to them for a few minutes, and look for the monster. Then, and only then,
ask about their medication and the status of their psychiatric care and so on.
This principle works in other situations too. One night I responded alone to a
domestic disturbance. This is not a good idea, but there were no backup units
available and a citizen had called for help. If you needed help, would you rather
see one cop, or no cops? These are street decisions made by real policemen on
the street, not by a committee of people who don’t want to do police work
themselves.
The disturbance involved a married couple, but there was no assault. They were
both alcoholics and both pretty sad cases. I stood in the kitchen and listened to
each of them in turn. Tactical note – The standard method on domestic
disturbances is to separate the principals, but you cannot do this without a backup
unit. Also, the kitchen is a bad place to work a domestic – too many knives and
heavy pots and pans and other hazards, like maybe boiling liquids. But everything
important gets discussed in the kitchen, in dysfunctional families as well as normal
families. Sometimes you have to play it where it lays.
The couple were not really drunk, but they had been arguing about their situation
and had called police because the police are the default social service agency for
broken people. The woman spoke first, outlining their troubles together. Then the
man began to speak. I didn’t know what to say. I was not a marriage counselor, or
an alcohol counselor, or a mental health professional, or anything else but a street
cop. I was appalled at the sad wreckage of their lives and couldn’t even think of
anything non-committal to say, so I just listened and made a sympathetic noise
once in awhile.
The guy was pretty articulate, so I let him continue. I was looking for the monster,
you see. Only, this guy’s monster was not in the basement. It was in his head. After
maybe ten minutes, he began to cry. He shook my hand and thanked me for
coming and for helping him. How, I wondered to myself, had I helped him?
In a little while, both of them said they felt better and that they thought they would
be OK. They thanked me again and again for coming. I cleared the matter with
police radio and took the next call. Some nights, the city’s agony is continuous.
You know what? I saw the guy again, maybe a year later. He was in a group of
drunks arguing in the parking lot of a tavern. I was the second unit in on the call.
As soon as he saw me, he told the other drunks to shut up. He pointed to me and
said “This man came to my house and helped me when I was in trouble. I won’t
argue with him.” And with that, the disturbance was over. Every encounter you
have is an investment. Treat it that way.
Want to know how to be a good cop? Start with the following statements. Write
them down on a card and carry them with you. Read them periodically. In thirty
years, you will thank me.
1. Never forget that real policemen work the street.
2. Listen more than you talk.
3. Look for the monster.
© David Ziskin, 2007
Forest Theatre on Garrison Boulevard had a deal for kids on Saturday mornings.
For the princely sum of 25 cents you could see a double-feature horror movie
show, complete with cartoons, newsreels, coming attractions, and a couple of
serials. You could get a box of candy for a nickel.
Times were pretty good for my family then, and my mother would often give me
thirty cents or even thirty-five cents for this purpose on Saturday. To attend this
day-long festival of 1950’s movie schlock with a friend was a great treat. It was a
simpler time. If you could forget the Cold War (as I could), the post-war period was
a peaceful, prosperous time. Then, as now, fun was at the top of my agenda.
The horror movies ran to a pattern. A boy and girl were on a picnic in the country
when the aliens or giant spiders or radioactive crustaceans or whatever menace
appeared. They ran into town and told the sheriff, but he wouldn’t believe them or
go with them to see the monster. Neither would their parents or various other
adults, and the monsters were unimpeded and undiscovered by the community for
quite a while.
I used to think that when I grew up and became the sheriff, I would always look for
the monster. After all, parents, grocers, truck drivers, and whomever else were not
law officers. The sheriff should respond differently. Besides, in the movie, it was
always a small town out in the desert. Did the sheriff have more urgent business?
An invasion of the planet would almost certainly be considered a “priority one call”
in the jargon of today’s computer-hindered dispatching.
Well, I never became the sheriff, but I was a street cop for many years, and I will
now tell young readers a universal truth about police work that you probably won’t
learn elsewhere – certainly not in formal training or from an administrator in police
work. Real policemen work the street. You can take it to the bank. The street,
simply put, is the soul of police work. Everything else is a hiding place or a support
function. Now, you doubt me. Thirty years from now, you will know I’m right.
You can tell how advanced a society is by the way its police behave. Street cops
get there first and make all of the important decisions in police work. Everybody
else is in the background, despite what you see on television. The first cop on the
scene represents our civilization and our system of laws. He or she is a living
symbol of the Bill of Rights and of society’s attitudes regarding both law breakers
and the vulnerable.
I answered hundreds, probably thousands, of calls from people reporting strange
things, like little people from Venus in the basement of the house. I always looked
for the monster. I never actually found the monster, but I always looked before I
asked the complainant if they had run out of their medication.
Delusional people, apart from the pathology of their illness, are not illogical. Nor
are they insensitive to the way they are regarded and spoken to by others. They
may look bizarre and they may say and do things that we would not, but at some
level which they may not express, they are keenly aware of how they are treated.
Listen to them for a few minutes, and look for the monster. Then, and only then,
ask about their medication and the status of their psychiatric care and so on.
This principle works in other situations too. One night I responded alone to a
domestic disturbance. This is not a good idea, but there were no backup units
available and a citizen had called for help. If you needed help, would you rather
see one cop, or no cops? These are street decisions made by real policemen on
the street, not by a committee of people who don’t want to do police work
themselves.
The disturbance involved a married couple, but there was no assault. They were
both alcoholics and both pretty sad cases. I stood in the kitchen and listened to
each of them in turn. Tactical note – The standard method on domestic
disturbances is to separate the principals, but you cannot do this without a backup
unit. Also, the kitchen is a bad place to work a domestic – too many knives and
heavy pots and pans and other hazards, like maybe boiling liquids. But everything
important gets discussed in the kitchen, in dysfunctional families as well as normal
families. Sometimes you have to play it where it lays.
The couple were not really drunk, but they had been arguing about their situation
and had called police because the police are the default social service agency for
broken people. The woman spoke first, outlining their troubles together. Then the
man began to speak. I didn’t know what to say. I was not a marriage counselor, or
an alcohol counselor, or a mental health professional, or anything else but a street
cop. I was appalled at the sad wreckage of their lives and couldn’t even think of
anything non-committal to say, so I just listened and made a sympathetic noise
once in awhile.
The guy was pretty articulate, so I let him continue. I was looking for the monster,
you see. Only, this guy’s monster was not in the basement. It was in his head. After
maybe ten minutes, he began to cry. He shook my hand and thanked me for
coming and for helping him. How, I wondered to myself, had I helped him?
In a little while, both of them said they felt better and that they thought they would
be OK. They thanked me again and again for coming. I cleared the matter with
police radio and took the next call. Some nights, the city’s agony is continuous.
You know what? I saw the guy again, maybe a year later. He was in a group of
drunks arguing in the parking lot of a tavern. I was the second unit in on the call.
As soon as he saw me, he told the other drunks to shut up. He pointed to me and
said “This man came to my house and helped me when I was in trouble. I won’t
argue with him.” And with that, the disturbance was over. Every encounter you
have is an investment. Treat it that way.
Want to know how to be a good cop? Start with the following statements. Write
them down on a card and carry them with you. Read them periodically. In thirty
years, you will thank me.
1. Never forget that real policemen work the street.
2. Listen more than you talk.
3. Look for the monster.
© David Ziskin, 2007
David Ziskin, author
of The Real Police, is
a retired police
officer. He lives in
Seattle and pursues
business interests
and does consulting
work for selected
clients.
of The Real Police, is
a retired police
officer. He lives in
Seattle and pursues
business interests
and does consulting
work for selected
clients.
"Every encounter
you have is an
investment. Treat
it that way."
you have is an
investment. Treat
it that way."
~ David Ziskin
| Look for the Monster |
| By David Ziskin |