The mayoral Cadillac limousine, in previous administrations chauffeured by a plainclothes police officer, was now driven by a uniformed Highway Patrol sergeant. It was equipped with shortwave radios tuned to the Highway Patrol and Detective bands, and the mayoral limousine was famous, or perhaps infamous, for rolling on calls the mayor found interesting.
Police Radio would, in Deputy Commissioner Wilson’s judgment, far too often announce that there was a robbery in progress, or officer needs assistance, or man with a gun, shots fired, only to have the second or third reply—sometimes the first—be “M-Mary One in on the shots fired,” from the mayoral Cadillac limousine, by then already racing down Lancaster Avenue or South Broad Street or the Schuylkill Expressway with the siren whooping and red lights flashing.
Deputy Commissioner Wilson was not really sure in his own mind why the mayor behaved this way, whether it was because, as the mayor himself had said, he was unable to dilute his policeman’s blood to the point where he could not respond to an officer needs assistance call, or whether it was calculated, on purpose. The mayor very often got his picture in the newspapers, and his image on the television, at one crime scene or another, often standing with his hands on his hips, pushing back his suit jacket so that the butt of his Smith & Wesson Chiefs Special .38-caliber snub-nosed revolver could be seen.
Commissioner Wilson was very much aware that one did not become mayor of the nation’s fourth largest city if one was either stupid, childish, or unaware of the importance of public relations and publicity. There were a lot of voters who liked the idea of having their mayor rush to the scene of a crime wearing a gun.
“I think it probably has to do with the Ledger editorial last Sunday,” Commissioner Czernick said now.
This produced a chorus of grunts, and several mildly profane expressions. Following a Highway Patrol shooting, in which two North Philadelphia youths, interrupted while they were holding up a convenience store, were killed, one of them having six wounds in his body, the Ledger published an indignant editorial, under the headline, “POLICE FORCE? OR A JACKBOOTED GESTAPO?”
It was not the first time the Ledger had referred to the highly polished motorcyclist’s black leather boots worn by police officers assigned to Highway Patrol as Gestapo Jackboots.
“Has he got someone in mind?” Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin asked.
Coughlin looked not unlike Commissioner Czernick. He was tall, and large boned, and had all his teeth and all his curly hair, now silver. He was one of eleven Chief Inspectors of the Police Department of the City of Philadelphia. But it could be argued that he was first among equals. Under his command, among others, were the Narcotics Unit, the Vice Unit, the Internal Affairs Division, the Staff Investigation Unit, and the Organized Crime Intelligence Unit.
The other ten Chief Inspectors reported to either the Deputy Commissioner (Operations) or the Deputy Commissioner (Administration), who reported to the Commissioner. Denny Coughlin reported directly to the Commissioner, and not unreasonably, believed that what happened anywhere in the Police Department was his business.
“The mayor has several things in mind,” Commissioner Czernick said, carefully, “thoughts which he has been kind enough to share with me.”
“Uh oh,” Lowenstein said.
“He thinks that David Pekach would make a fine commander of Highway,” Commissioner Czernick said.
Chief Lowenstein considered that for a moment, then said, chuckling, “But he’d have to cut off his pigtail. Do you think David would be willing to do that?”
There were chuckles from everyone around the conference table except for Deputy Commissioner for Administration Wilson. Newly promoted Captain Pekach wasn’t even on the preliminary list of fourteen captains Commissioner Wilson had drawn up to fill the vacancy of Commanding Officer, Highway Patrol, created when Captain Richard C. Moffitt had been shot to death trying to stop an armed robbery.
“Mike Sabara was next in line for Highway,” Chief Inspector Coughlin said. “And he’s qualified. I guess the mayor’s thought about that?”
“The mayor thinks Mike would fit in neatly as Deputy Commander of Special Operations Division,” Commissioner Czernick said, “especially if I went along with his suggestion to take Highway away from Traffic and put it under Special Operations. Then it would be sort of a promotion for Sabara, the mayor says.”
“I thought that Special Operations Division idea was dead,” Deputy Commissioner for Operations Francis J. Cohan said. It was the first time he’d spoken. “I didn’t like it, said so, and now I’m going to get it anyway?”
“Denny’s going to get it,” Commissioner Czernick said, nodding his head toward Chief Inspector Coughlin.
“My God!” Cohan said. “If Highway isn’t Operations, what is?”
“Everything you have now, except Highway,” Commissioner Czernick said. “Highway is now under Special Operations.”
“Highway and what else?” Cohan asked.
“Highway and ACT,” Czernick said.
“The ACT grant came through?” Deputy Commissioner Wilson asked, both surprised and annoyed.
ACT was the acronym for Anti-Crime Teams, a federally funded program administered by the Justice Department. It was a test, more or less, to see what effect saturating a high-crime area with extra police, the latest technology, and special assistance from the district attorney in the form of having assistant district attorneys with nothing to do but push ACT-arrested criminals through the criminal justice system would have, short and long term, on crime statistics.
“When did all this happen?” Cohan asked.
“The mayor told me he had a call from the senator Friday afternoon about the ACT grant,” Czernick said. “I suppose it’ll be in the papers today, or maybe on the TV tonight. The mayor says we’ll start getting money, some of it right away.”
“I meant about this Special Operations,” Cohan said.
“Wait a minute,” Czernick said. “I’m glad this came up.” He shifted in his chair to look at Deputy Commissioner for Administration Wilson. “Harry, I don’t want to be told that, in setting up Special Operations, something can’t be done because there’s no money. You authorize whatever is necessary, using contingency funds, until the federal money comes in. Then reimburse the contingency fund. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Deputy Commissioner Wilson said.