“The friend (Leupp) found the Commissioner at the appointed place
and hour, armed only with a little stick and a written list of the
patrolmen’s posts in the district which was to be visited. They walked
over each beat separately. In the first three beats they found only one
man on post. One of the others had gone to assist the man on the third,
but there was no trace of the third man’s whereabouts. They came upon a
patrolman seated on a box with a woman.
“‘Patrolman,’ asked the Commissioner, ‘are you doing your duty on post
27?’
“The fellow jumped up in a hurry. This pedestrian, though unknown to
him, was obviously familiar with police matters; so he stammered out,
with every attempt to be obsequious: ‘Yes, sir; I am, sir.’
“‘Is it all right for you to sit down?’ inquired the mysterious
stranger.
“‘Yes, sir--no, sir--well, sir, I wasn’t sitting down. I was just
waiting for my partner, the patrolman on the next beat. Really, I
wasn’t sitting down.’
“‘Very well,’ said the stranger, cutting him short and starting on.
“The officer ran along, explaining again with much volubility that he
had not been sitting down--he had just been leaning a little against
something while he waited.
“‘That will do; you are following me off post. Go back to your beat now
and present yourself before me at headquarters at half-past nine in the
morning. I am Commissioner Roosevelt.’
“Another three blocks and the strollers came upon a patrolman chatting
with a man and a woman. They passed the group, went a little way, and
returned; the woman was gone, but the patrolman and the man were still
there, and deep in conversation. The talk was interrupted to enable
the officer to answer the Commissioner’s questions. The man seized the
opportunity to slip off.
“‘They were drunk, sir, a little intoxicated, sir,’ was the patrolman’s
excuse, as he caught an inkling of the situation. ‘I was just trying to
quiet them down a bit. I’m sorry, sir, very sorry.’
“‘That’s enough. Come to Commissioner Roosevelt’s office at half-past
nine.’
“In search of the roundsman the Commissioner started to call him to
account for all this laxity in discipline. The roundsman was found
gossiping with two patrolmen on another beat.
“‘Which of you men belongs here?’ demanded the Commissioner, addressing
the patrolmen.
“They and their companion met the inquiry defiantly. One of the trio
retorted: ‘What business is that of yours?’
“The Commissioner made no response except to repeat his question in
another form: ‘Which one of you is covering beat 31?’”
It was now plain that they were in trouble. By the light of a
neighboring gas lamp the roundsman recognized the interrogator’s face.
He cast a significant look at one of his companions, who answered
meekly enough: “It’s me, sir.”
The other told where he belonged and left quickly for his post,
while the roundsman made a poor fist of explaining that he was “just
admonishing the patrolmen to move around and do their duty” when the
commissioner came up.
“You may call on me at half-past nine and tell me all about it,” was
the response. “I haven’t time now to listen.”
The culprits, when they appeared the next morning, had every
conceivable excuse for their shortcomings. Many of them pleaded that
this was their first offense.
“Take care that you do not do it a second time,” was Roosevelt’s
response. “I am going to see with my own eyes how you men employ your
time.”
On the other hand, where policemen had been found to have performed
their duties well, they were also ordered to call at headquarters the
next day, but instead of being reprimanded like the others, they were
warmly praised. For the first time each man had a show for promotion
on his merits. Neither politics nor religion counted. The man who did
a brave deed was promoted. The man who was found corrupt was “broken.”
That was all there was to it. It required no pull or money to become
a member of the police force when Roosevelt had charge of it. This is
illustrated by his selection of one of his policemen from the Bowery
branch of the Young Men’s Christian Association. He tells the story
that he had gone to the branch of the association one night and the
secretary informed him that they had a young man who had just rescued a
woman from a burning building, showing great coolness and courage.
The Commissioner was interested--brave men always attracted him. He
asked to see the young man, who was a Russian and who had some years
ago come to America during one of the waves of persecution in the
realm of the Czar. He had been studying in the association classes for
some time and wanted employment. Physically he was of the right type,
and he passed his examination for the force.
He made one of the best policemen in the city, and in consequence of
his pay he was able to provide for his mother and his old grandmother
and to start his small brothers and sisters in life. Said Colonel
Roosevelt, “He was already a good son and brother, so that it was not
surprising that he made a good policeman.”
Roosevelt’s strenuous and novel methods soon began to count. Instead
of being tools of blackmailers, the men became self-respecting and
“straight.” It became a badge of honor to be known as a “Roosevelt cop.”
Mr. Enright, the present Chief of the New York Police Department and an
old member of the force, testifies to the remarkable executive ability
shown by Roosevelt. “He was the first Commissioner to inaugurate a
strict civil service examination,” said Mr. Enright, “and he sent
out a letter requesting 1,000 young men through the state to enter
the examination and become members of the force. He tested them very
severely, asking questions on history and geography. One of his
questions was to name five states west of the Mississippi River and
give the capitals. Another was to name five consecutive Presidents.
“He made drastic rules to enforce the excise law in those days, and on
many Sundays used the whole Police Department in his work by placing a
uniformed patrolman in front of the door of every saloon.”
Another warm admirer of Colonel Roosevelt is Captain Bourke, who
received from Roosevelt his first promotion after he had arrested Mike
Callahan, owner of a saloon at Mott Street and Chatham Square, who had
been violating the excise law. Callahan was credited with being immune
to arrest, due to his influence with politicians, and Bourke made the
arrest after he had been only six weeks on the force. It was rumored
that Bourke would be dismissed for his act, but when Callahan was
arraigned and convicted Bourke was promoted.
Certain elements of the city rebelled against Roosevelt’s rigid
enforcement of the excise laws and organized a parade in protest.
A reviewing stand was built and, unknown to the promoters, Colonel
Roosevelt slipped into the stand. At the head of a division was a stout
German--a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War. Roosevelt’s endeavor to
deprive him of his Sunday beer had aroused his wrath and as he passed
the platform he shouted scornfully in German:
“Now, where is that Roosevelt?”
Mr. Roosevelt, leaning over the side of the stand, queried, also in
German:
“Here I am. What will you, comrade?”
The astonished German when it dawned upon him that Roosevelt had
heard him, raised his hat and shouted: “Hurrah for Roosevelt!”
Roosevelt’s good humor caught the crowd. The cheer was repeated and the
demonstration turned to one for the commissioner instead of against him.
On one occasion when Roosevelt was on a night tour of investigation,
he walked around a certain beat three times without being able to find
his man. Just as he was about to leave, a quarrel occurred in a cafe
and the owner came out on the sidewalk and knocked with a stick as a
signal that he needed police protection. Three times he rapped, but the
policeman did not come. Roosevelt heard him say:
“Where in thunder is the scoundrel sleeping? He should have told me
that he had given up sleeping in the barber shop so that I could have
found him.”
The next morning the policeman received a summons to headquarters to
explain why he had changed his sleeping place.
It is also told of Roosevelt that an anti-Hebrew lecturer, intending to
denounce Jews, asked for police protection at a lecture. The protection
was promised and sent--thirty Hebrew policemen, whose presence so awed
the speaker that his lecture became quite tame.
The attachment of members of the Jewish race for Roosevelt was
illustrated at his funeral. The one man who was permitted to sit alone
in the trophy room at Sagamore Hill, with the body of the Colonel, was
Lieutenant Otto Raphael of the New York Police Force, a Hebrew of the
East side. Mr. Roosevelt, in his biography, describes Raphael as “a
powerful fellow with a good-humored face. He and I were both ‘straight
New Yorkers,’ to use the vernacular. To show our community of feeling
and our grasp of the facts of life, I may mention that we were almost
the only men in the Police Department who picked Fitzsimmons as a
winner over Corbett.”
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD