This period of time covers the informal stages of the budding Counseling Unit that Msgr. Dunne formed and placed under his largess. As the Spiritual Director of the Holy Name Society, as well as a Police Chaplain, he could do as he pleased. Cardinal Spellman of the New York Archdiocese had submitted Dunne's name for appointment to the Police Commissioner and that got him the job. Dunne was always alluding to his powerful connections with the Church and he did very much as he liked. It was this power that he used to assign Bill, a former detective, as a cop on disciplinary probation to him, to the Chaplain's office as a clerk. In reality, Bill was Dunne's "gofer." Bill would maintain communication with the five sober volunteers who were police officers. They, in turn, would be put in contact with their fellow officers who were having problems with alcohol. Each of these five volunteers would be assigned one of the five counties that comprise New York City. All of this volunteer work was done on their off-duty time. In my case, I would handle any cases from Queens County. While Jim "I" would handle the Bronx and Rockland County, Jim "II" covered Westchester and upper Manhattan. Ally K. covered Brooklyn and Bill did lower Manhattan and Staten Island.
There were certain times of the year when the bodies came rolling in fast and furiously. These were the Christmas holidays and St. Patrick's Day. The reason for these two hectic periods of the year were that the Department distributed the Uniform Allowance check just prior to Christmas and most cops considered this money as their year end drinking bonus. The other holiday, St. Patrick's Day, usually fell during the Lenten Season. The job was about 80% Catholic at that time and most officers refrained from drinking any alcohol during the Lenten period. But St. Patty's Day was a day when the "men-in-blue" considered they could imbibe a bit. More times than not, when we were called to assist Officer experiencing difficulty with alcohol, we found his firearm being discharged into the wall of some bar and grill.
About every month, I would get a telephone message from the Chaplain's office to report on such and such a date in civilian clothes. This telephone message would be sent to my Command, the 88th Precinct and, at first, it caused quite a stir. The Desk Officer and the Captain of the Command were required to place their initials in the column alongside the telephone record and, in addition, notify me of the message. No one knew of my involvement in "AA" or with Msgr. Dunne. In the beginning, some of my co-workers asked me what was I doing at the Chaplain's Office. I thought it best not to disclose what I, let alone anyone else, was doing there. But more and more, I was being called to report to the Chaplain's Office on a frequent basis. Finally, the time arrived when I had to pick up a member of my command at his resident Precinct, which was the 68th Precinct. When I arrived at the 68th, I identified myself to the Desk Officer. He escorted me to the Sitting Room where Jim H. lay sound asleep with his head on the table and his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked more like a skell than a cop. He was covered with a two-day growth of beard, his white shirt covered in puke and reeking of alcohol. Jim still had on his police uniform pants, but minus the belt.
The Lieutenant shook Jim and, with bleary eyes, he recognized me thinking I was there as his PBA Delegate, which I was. But I told him that Msgr. Dunne also sent me to see if he wanted help with his drinking problem. With that, Jim let out a howl and cursed the living daylights out of me asking how could I turn in an old drinking buddy. He ranted and raved that there were worse drinkers in the command that he. But I told him that the Reserve Police Surgeon suspended him because he was unfit for duty. Jim's firearms were removed by order of the First Deputy Police Commissioner and a teletype message of this order went out to all commands citywide.
After sitting and talking with Jim for about six hours, it finally dawned on him that his only hope was to go to Mount Carmel Hospital in Patterson, New Jersey and dry out. I notified Msgr. Dunne at his residence in St. Stephen's Church in Manhattan. Then I called Jim's wife and she was glad that her husband was getting help for his drinking problem. But she was worried that, by accepting this help, he was placing his job in jeopardy. I assured her that it was in his best interest that he go to Mount Carmel.
The next phone call was to the Operations Bureau requesting permission to leave the City on official police duty in my own vehicle to transport a suspended member of the force to Mount Carmel Hospital in Patterson, New Jersey. The final phone call was placed with the assistance of the long distance operator to 525-7746 at Mount Carmel on Straight and Narrow Streets.
Msgr. Dunne had set up a charge account with Msgr. Wall at Mount Carmel because most of the cops who required his services had very little cash available and were usually deeply in debt. All that was required for us to get an officer into the hospital was a phone call and that we pick him up five days later. Msgr. had a strict rule: you could only take a man out to Mount Carmel twice and no more. He felt that we would make a "mattress baby" out of him by exceeding that limit.
Here is a brief history of Mount Carmel Hospital. It was one of Dutch Schultz's old breweries during Prohibition times. Wall had the street names changed to Straight and Narrow Street after the story of St. Paul's conversion in the New Testament. The story tells that Saul was on the road to Damascus and the purpose of his mission was to persecute the band of early Christians of that city. While en route, he was struck by a bolt of lightning from on high and knocked off his ass. Saul heard a voice cry out, "Saul, Saul, why does thou persecute me?" Saul was now blind and lay helpless in the sand, and he begged Jesus's forgiveness. Christ told him to go to a street called Straight and Narrow in Damascus and he would regain his sight. Likewise, many a blind drunk recovered his sight and sobriety at the Mount.
The following are two case studies of men who were helped at Mount Carmel.
Jimmy M. was a police officer of eight years experience. He was assigned to an inner city ghetto area most of that period. His prior experience did not prepare him for his current career. It was a cultural shock that hit this middle class young man patrolling the garbage dump of humanity. He was an illustrator by profession. In the late 1960's, the Department instituted a major change in patrol concepts. Men were assigned to patrol in civilian clothes in order to stop the escalating crime wave. Some officers were disguised as priests, rabbis, as elderly and as women. Jimmy M. was assigned to this new detail and his mufti was that of a young woman. At first, he protested to his sergeant about the assignment but, as time went on, he couldn't wait to dress up for patrol. In fact, he thought of himself as a rather beautiful and sexy looking gal. When his tour of duty was over, he no longer bothered to dress in manly attire, but would slip over to the cops' watering hole all dolled up in fresh make-up.
The other cops drinking in the bar paid little attention to officer Jimmy. But he, himself, was enjoying every moment of his new persona. The only one who objected was his wife. To appease her, he started bringing home some of the stash he took from drug arrests. Now she was on Cloud Nine most of the time and he was zonked out on booze. He started to put on weight in the wrong places so he went on a diet of uppers supplied by locals who he arrested on patrol. Jimmy slimmed down in a hurry, but he was too full of energy. To control himself, he installed a gym in the basement of the brownstone he owned. He got the bright idea of hanging a trapeze on the ceiling. There he would fly in his all-together by the hour. Before long, his wife would join him after he gave her a fresh supply of the best mex-gold. Eventually, they became proficient on the swings and they entered into a new area of personal development. That is, copulating in mid-air. They were really flying high, but all good things must come to an end. It seems Jimmy fell in love with a perp whom he collared for indecent exposure. After the perp's arraignment, Jimmy brought him home to his brownstone. Once there, he performed his trapeze act. Later, he made it a twosome with his wife and, much later, it became a threesome.
Somehow, Jimmy lost track of time and his command became concerned over his failure to show up for roll call. Jimmy's resident precinct was notified and the sergeant on patrol responded to the brownstone. When the sergeant knocked on the door, he discovered it unlocked. He walked in and heard groans coming from the basement. Thinking the worst, he flew down the flight of stairs into a knot of naked arms and legs pumping and humping away on the trapeze. The sergeant put a quick call in for the duty captain, who in turn called the reserve police sergeant, who in turn called the counseling unit to pick up the pieces.
Jimmy M. went to detox at Mount Carmel and spent the next three weeks at Glen Spey. When he returned from the mountain retreat, he was assigned to limited duty without firearms. Eventually, he retired from the job.
Tony M. was a police officer in the 25th Precinct in Harlem. He was the Captain's clerical man. A clerical man is much more than a typist. The clerical man is the Captain's right hand. During the mass transfers of the late 1950's and early 1960's, the clerical staff of a command stayed in tack while the rest of the cops were transferred all over the city. Tony lived with his wife and children in Whitestone, Queens. Close enough to Harlem by car, but as far as he was concerned, it was not far enough. Tony's duty consisted of checking dance applications, checking pistol license permits and issuing parade permits, in addition to other duties. Each one of these permits involved charging a fee for the city plus an under the table fee for Tony. For this reason, Tony very rarely cashed his police department paycheck. Tony was also the PBA delegate for the 25th Precinct, the Holy Name Delegate and the President of the 25 Club. Tony loved to drink and then the drink fell in love with Tony.
One day, the PBA called for a SICK-OUT. This meant that all the cops would go sick for a day or two to show City Hall that the cops wanted more pay and better time off. Tony lead the SICK-OUT parade in the 25th Precinct. Somehow the cops all returned to work in a week or so, but not Tony. It seemed his district police surgeon and the medical section never recorded Tony as absent. For the next two years, Tony's paycheck arrived twice a month by mail, courtesy of the other members of the 25th Precinct clerical staff. The rumor in the command was that Tony had a terminal case of the Big "C" and would soon be laid out in Walter B. Cook's.
With so much time on his hands and no more permits to interrupt his romance with the grape, he soon developed a bad case of the "D.T.'s". His wife, a faithful communicant of the local parish called the priest to give Tony the last rites of the Catholic Church. The priest took one whiff of Tony and called the 25th Precinct and, in turn, called the Counseling Service. Tony made a non-stop trip to Mount Carmel Hospital in New Jersey for detox and then to Glen Spey, New York for three weeks rehab. The commanding officer of the medical section wanted Tony's butt to hang on his wall, but when the facts were laid out, he, the district surgeon and the Captain of the 25th Precinct would hang alongside each other. Cool heads prevailed and Tony was allowed to retire and enjoy his new life of sobriety.