POLICE ACADEMY
Dunne wanted a location near the Medical Unit which was to be housed one floor above on the seventh floor. This floor housed all the units that comprised the Medical Unit. By keeping the Counseling Unit under the wing of the Chaplain's Office and, at the same time under Dunne's eye, he could maintain control of its functions. Initially, a conflict arose when some of the other chaplains tried to use this space. Dunne told them to move on in no uncertain terms.
Room 615 was on the west wall of the academy, with the window of the outer office facing south. The office was divided into two rooms: the larger room faced 20th Street, while the inner one was windowless. Dunne made sure the office had a phone installed in each room. The larger room was Dunne's and the smaller one was used for clerical work. Bill P. was moved up from the Chaplain's Office at 80 Lafayette Street and installed as the clerical man. He still contacted Dunne's "AA" cops.
The office opened for business officially on November 12, 1964. This was a Thursday and a day that should go down in the history of New York's Finest. Along with me and Bill P. enter four members of the force; two sergeants and two cops. One boss was from the IU (Identification Unit), the other was from the Police Lab. One cop was from the Division of Licenses and the other was from the IU. They looked bewildered. The time was 10:00 a.m. and the lot of them looked as if they stepped into the Lion's Den. All they knew was each of them received an official telephone message directing them to report to Room 615 at the Police Academy at 10:00 a.m. in civilian clothes. They all came decked out in their Sunday best. The most striking thing about the group was that three of them had red hair and were left handed.
11:00 a.m. - Enter Chief Surgeon McCoy, M.D., who was a former U.S. Army Surgeon in both WW II and the Korean conflict, and he still retained his military bearing in front of the four assembled members of the force. Dr. McCoy spoke to the men regarding their problem. He stressed the physical deterioration of the problem and offered them the program as the best way that he knew of to arrest this problem. He also gave them a good indication of the consequences involved if they did not attempt to do something about their problem, Dr. McCoy spoke for forty minutes and the meeting was continued until lunch recess.
2:00 p.m. - A film was shown titled "For Those Who Drink" by Dr. Bell. The film ran about one-half hour, after which there was a noticeable interest in the subject of the film. There were a number of questions asked and this indicated a bit of self honesty concerning their problem. There was further discussion and there seemed to be a more relaxed attitude with the men so that they were a little more willing to talk about themselves. 4:45 p.m. - The meeting was closed.
The second meeting of the group was held on the following Wednesday, November 18, 1964. This time, Jim M. from the 44th Precinct conducted the meeting. The meeting went from 10:00 a.m. until 12:00 Noon.
The third meeting was headed by Al K. from the S.E.D. (Safety Education Division) and three more cops entered the group. Over the next eight weeks, a sober cop on active duty came in and chaired the meeting. Ed C. from the 123rd Precinct, Joe B. from the 83rd Precinct and Jim B. from the 48th Precinct each covered a meeting along with me. On January 14, 1965, a new group was started and it met on Thursdays at 10:00 a.m.. This group consisted of seven cops on LDS (Limited Duty Squad). The same format was used again. The film, "For Those Who Drink" was shown. Msgr. Dunne gave a talk. Then I spoke on the aims of the program and gave an introduction to "AA". This was followed by Chief Surgeon McCoy, who presented his point of view on the problem. A sad note about this group was that three of the seven died from alcoholism.
In late March, 1965, Bill P. informed Dunne that he was going to retire at the end of the month. Bill had been placed on full duty a short time before and assigned to the Medical Section and detailed to the Counseling Unit. He had told me the work was draining him and he got a good job offer at the parimutuel window at a local race track. In the meantime, Dunne asked each one of the four sober cops if they wanted to be assigned to the unit and they turned him down. I was the last to be considered by Dunne, with the warning that he would try me out for a month. That was in April, 1965. That month's trial would stretch out over the next 15 years until April, 1980.
Dunne made a telephone call to the Chief Inspector's Office and, in turn, they called my Command and directed me to report to the CO (Commanding Officer) of the Medical Unit for a 30-day period effective 12:01 a.m., April 1, 1965. A new CO of the Medical Unit took command on the same day as I reported, and he knew nothing about me other than I had a "Big- Hook" (cop talk for a political connection) somewhere in the Department. The young Captain was from IAD (Internal Affairs Division) and he had a reputation of being a no- nonsense type of boss. After my sitting in the Medical Section waiting room for several hours, he finally got around to calling me into his office. At that moment, Msgr. Dunne popped his head into the Captain's Office, followed by Chief Surgeon McCoy. These two men explained to Kelly their game plan and how I fit into the big picture of things. After that get-together, I went down to my office in Room 615. Now it was up to me to get the groups started on time and arrange for an outside speaker for them. Early on, I noticed some of the group members were getting a little bombed at the meeting. They were nursing the same container of coffee that they walked in with a couple of hours before. The following week, I arrived early and stood across the street from the Academy and, lo and behold, here came the group, their coffee containers clutched in their one hand and one of the boys pouring some booze into each of the cups. A little "coffee royal" to go. I put short work to this by having them empty the cups into the sink in the men's room. That afternoon, I went to a restaurant supply house and purchased a fifty-cup coffee pot. Then each morning I would put on a fresh pot without the alcohol. Dunne liked the idea and it became more like a real "AA" meeting with the pot perking away while the meeting was in progress.
One morning, Dunne walked into the office with a bundle of "Jellinek Charts" and said that I must use them when I interview the cops referred to the Unit. He also said that he got them from Con Ed. It was an 8" x 10" format (see Appendix A), with a heading of MEDICAL UNIT followed by name, date. On the next line the shield number and command, on the third line, referral, age and date of appointment. Then in bold caps PROFILE OF ALCOHOLISM just under and to the left side were a series of boxes that made up the chart. To the left side of the page were the STAGES, numbered 1 to 7. They covered social drinking, dependent drinking, pre-alcoholic, problem drinker, alcoholic, chronic alcoholic and organic deterioration. Across the bottom ran the ages 20 through 65. The last entry was DIAGNOSIS and STAGE. On the back of the chart was the SYMPTOMATIC SICK REPORT, along with space for a written comment.
Dunne instructed me to make a chart when I interviewed someone, make a notation when the person began to drink alcohol and when he experienced one of the stages later on in the chart. Then draw a straight line connecting the two points. After trying it out a couple of times, it didn't make any sense. I then started listing the ages next to each stage where the person being interviewed said he experienced one of the incidents. After listing the ages, I made a large dot in the appropriate box and then connected all the dots from the top of the chart to the bottom of the chart. I noticed how intently this was followed by the person who I was interviewing. They would always ask what did it show, and I would reply "Stage 5 Alcoholic". Again they would ask, "Is that bad?" And I would say, "Yes."
In addition to the charting, Dunne always insisted that you ask the cop the 12 questions from the AA pamphlet. I always got resistance on these questions. They were similar to the question, "when have you stopped beating your wife?" Dunne enjoyed going over these questions with the cop, and he usually got a couple of more "yes" responses. Dunne and I had the role to play of a good cop/bad cop when talking with these men. We were like a pair of partners in a radio car.
The next thing that came along was how do I keep these records confidential? I made up a folder with the last two digits of the year; for example, the first case for the year 1965 became "65-1", so the man's name was not showing when the file drawer was opened. The system was still in practice until I retired in 1980.
An intake interview questionnaire was designed by me, along with a weekly meeting list for all "AA" meetings attended by the member. Next came the composite list of all meetings covering a 90-day period. (See Appendix B, C, D.)
As word got out into the field that help was available to cops with a drinking problem, the referrals started to come in. In order to make sure that these men who were being referred really had a problem, I started checking out their medical folder. I got a cram course from Sgt. Hank H. in the Medical Unit on what to look for, such as gastritis, cirrhosis, or the off-duty single car accidents at 3:00 a.m. when the cops hit a tree that jumped out in the middle of the road on the way home after the 4:00 p.m. to midnight tour. Later on, I found a contact in the Commissioner of Trials office, who was a "friend of Bill W.", the co-founder of "AA." He was able to give me the officer's Symptomatic Disciplinary Charges. These cover such violations as "Off Post, AWOL, Lost Shield, Lost Gun, Intox- Unfit and other charges.
Dunne decided he wanted someone in the office at all times during business hours. He had tried to reach me, but I was tied up in the Medical Unit on a case. This being a Wednesday, the group was sitting around waiting for the meeting to start. So Dunne selected a rotund officer from LDS, one Joe McC. Dunne told him to sit at the desk and answer the phone and that is what he did. It seems when I was out of the office, Joe McC. was busy on the phone all the time and Dunne couldn't get through to the Unit. Dunne had the switchboard operator listen in to the calls and it seems that Joe McC was making calls to his "bookie" in the Bronx. He was laying off bets all over the borough. Dunne had now captured his first dual-addicted cop; one with a booze problem as well as a gambling problem. So now Joe McC. not only had to attend outside "AA" but, in addition, he had to go to "GA" (Gamblers Anonymous) meetings.
It seems that nothing was planned in advance but, when a situation would crop up, a game plan was born to solve the problem at hand. That is how we started using Freeport Hospital on Long Island. As the men in the group achieved and maintained their sobriety and became active members of their local "AA" groups, they were expected to help the newcomer in the Unit. They would take the newcomer to the hospital for Detox (to withdraw from alcohol) when the occasion arose. Those occasions would arise when I had to take a cop to Mount Carmel in New Jersey and I would get a call to pick up another cop on Long Island who was in bad shape and also needed hospitalization. In this situation, I would call upon one of the cops from the area and he would do the honors and take the man to Detox. Neither one of us would be reimbursed for the expenses we incurred by the Department. It was Dunne's attitude that this was a payback to "AA" but, in my case, this amounted to a great deal of money that I could ill afford on a cop's pay. For one of the cops to drive from Suffolk County to Patterson, New Jersey and return home came to about 150 miles for the trip. About this time, Freeport Hospital opened its doors to the sick alcoholic. The only problem was that we had a "tab" at Mount Carmel Hospital and we had no credit at Freeport Hospital. This problem was solved by having the cop lay out the cost on admission.
By the end of 1965, before the formal program was instituted, 73 individuals were interviewed, 24 either refused assistance or had no problem. Eleven were returned to full duty, eighteen were surveyed (retired involuntary) for alcoholism, three retired after 20 years of service and one was dismissed. The remainder were carried into 1966.
With the beginning of the new year, 1966 brought about many changes for the program. On May 6th of that year, Elmer C. Cone, Assistant Chief Inspector, Commanding Officer, Personnel Bureau, submitted a Memorandum For the Police Commissioner and the subject was: Proposed Program for the Identification, Treatment and Rehabilitation of Problem Drinkers and Alcoholics. It contained the background of the problem, along with a Policy Statement. The Police Commissioner, Howard R. Leary, signed it on May 12th, 1966. Dunne's long struggle finally brought about an official approval of the Counseling Unit. A chain reaction then took place. Two police officers who went through the program and had maintained sobriety and contact with their local "AA" groups were assigned to the Medical Section and detailed to the Counseling Service. They were Vinny H. from the 102nd Precinct who lived in Hicksville, Long Island and Joe B. from the 83rd Precinct who resided in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Next on the wish list, I was assigned a department car with an official police plate which gave me free tolls while traveling over the New York City bridges, as well as going through the tunnels. Plus, I was able to use the department gas pumps located citywide. I was given permission to submit vouchers for payment, but I never was repaid for a sizeable sum of money owed to me by the Department. We now increased the number of groups from two to three and then to four. They met each Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday from 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon.
But the New Year Day brought with it a massive Transit Strike which lasted several weeks. Because I was assigned to the Medical Section and detailed to the Counseling Service on a telephone message, I was ordered to report to my command, the 88th Precinct in Brooklyn. I was assigned to a traffic post at the intersection of Washington Avenue and DeKalb Avenue for a 12-hour tour of duty. It was raining and it started to freeze. There were traffic accidents all over the place. About noon time, my Captain of the 88th drove by and asked me what I was doing out here? He ordered me into the sector car and out of the rain and told me the roll calls were a mess, as no one had experience or the knowledge to place three platoons on a 12-hour shift without duplicating the patrol and traffic posts. He asked if I could straighten out the problem and I responded in the affirmative. So, off I went back to my old desk on the second floor of the station house. I took out a couple of precinct maps from my locker and, with color markers representing each different platoon, I marked where the cops were already assigned for the 24- hour period on that particular day. After a short time, the post coverage was straightened out. In the late afternoon of that day, the Inspector of the 13th Division came into the Command to make a blotter entry and, when he saw the revised roll calls, he came up to my old office and asked if I could do the same thing for the other four precincts in the division. I replied that I could. After that was taken care of, I had to duplicate the same thing for the Boro Command, Brooklyn North. I was assigned a sector car with a driver to take me around to the other Commands and instruct the roll call officers on how to duplicate my method. Deputy Chief Glynn, C.O. of the boro, remembered my work on the "Rapid mobilization Plan for Brooklyn North" in 1962 to prepare for possible civil unrest during the summer of 1963. So he asked my opinion on how we could improve the traffic flow from Brooklyn into Manhattan during the morning rush hour. I told him I would make all the bridges one-way, except one lane on the Williamsburg Bridge and, likewise, make the Midtown Tunnel one way using three lanes into the City and using one lane out of the City.
The whole month of January and part of February was spent over at Borough Headquarters in Brooklyn, and Dunne had to run the Counseling Service by himself.
One tragic note on the Transit Strike: I had notified a cop to report to the Medical Section for an interview, but that was canceled by Captain Kelly, then C.O. of the Medical Unit. I had it by good authority that the cop was a "walking time bomb" waiting to go off. The wind up was that he shot two Suffolk County police officers while he was in a "black-out". He was hiding in his garage with the door open and, when the two officers approached, he went into a combat stance and emptied his revolver as they walked towards him. One was killed outright and the other was left paralyzed for life. Needless to say, the New York City Police Department, as well as the City, paid dearly for not letting me bring this officer in for the scheduled interview.
Chief Surgeon McCoy would always make himself available to talk to the offending officer after I interviewed him in Room 615. He took the time to give encouragement to the newcomer that going into the program was the best thing to do. On occasion, McCoy had to switch roles and be the bad guy in motivating the cop to get help. Dunne was an expert at motivating a cop to make a decision to accept help. He would have the officer sit opposite him with a conference table between them. At those times, I would sit to one side of them. Dunne would review the findings of the interview and then tell the cop what was expected of him if he wanted to continue in his career as one of "New York's Finest." If Dunne encountered any resistance from the cop, he would hold out his both hands and make a loud clapping sound and blow on the palm of his left hand and then he'd look the cop straight in the eye and say "goodbye." The cop would look at me in disbelief, and I'd tell him he'd better go along with Dunne's wish or his days were numbered on the job. The cop's usual reply was, "What do I tell my wife?" Dunne's retort was, "Don't worry, I'll tell her. Now give Joe (me) your gun, badge and ID card." It was short and sweet and Dunne called that "Inducing Therapeutic Surrender." A fast phone call on my part reporting him sick at his command, another call to get permission from the Chief Inspector's Office to leave the city on official police business.
We started using Holy Family Hospital which is located on Pacific Street near Bond Street in Brooklyn. Chief Surgeon McCoy was affiliated with this hospital and two of his associates were on staff. McCoy got Dunne to place cops there for detox. Dunne hesitated at first because Holy Family didn't have a specific ward set aside for alcoholics. Instead, they used the scatter bed approach. That is, they placed the cops in different wards and rooms in the hospital in order to detox them. We had brought ten cops and one female detective to dry out in that hospital.
One day, one of the cops who I took to Holy Family, was quite upset. He had an appointment with one of these doctors at this office. It was a follow-up visit. Then he told me of his experiences with the doctor. He would have him strip and get into a hospital gown. Then he would lay on the exam table and the doctor would cover his bare mid-section with baby powder. Then the doctor would start rubbing the powder around his penis. When the cop asked what that was for, the doctor explained that alcoholics often experience difficulty in achieving an erection and he had to test that bodily function. The cop told him he didn't like what he was doing and thought he was a fag. The doctor told him that if he didn't go along with his procedure, he would have McCoy dismiss him.
I told the cop to come along with me and off we went upstairs to the Medical Unit and I told McCoy was had happened in Holy Family. McCoy started to laugh and said the son-of-a-bitch Dr. So-And-So was up to his old tricks again. McCoy said he had trouble in the Army with this doctor doing the same things to enlisted men.
For the year of 1966, the Unit interviewed 165 members of the force and, although we were conducting four meetings a week, we had to start afternoon sessions. I was able to take over a classroom right under our room on the fifth floor. This gave the men a little more room to spread out. Al K., the SED officer, made an audio tape of Dr. David I. Canavan's talk which he gave twice a week to patients at Mount Carmel Hospital. It was a 21-page talk. The meetings were now scheduled to be informational, covering the twelve weeks the cop would be assigned to us. Three of the twelve meetings would view the Bell's film, three would be Dr. Canavan's tape and the balance of the six meetings would be open discussion.
Dunne heard of an alcoholic rehabilitation center called East Ridge, located in Callicoon, New York. Dunne selected the volunteers who would get the benefit of the country air and intensive "AA" therapy. The center was run by a team consisting of a father and his son, along with a cook. The cops quickly placed a tag on the place and called it the "Funny Farm." They weren't far from wrong. East Ridge didn't work out. Dunne had given me a strict order not to send any one up there without his stamp of approval. Dunne was away on one of his annual three-week golf outings and he left and said not to contact him under any circumstances. Well, "any circumstances" came about when two of the cops were made to wear signs around their necks for all the guests to see what they did in private late one night. Joe B., the counselor told me of a rehabilitation center that was "AA" oriented and run by a man from Astoria, Queens by the name of Jimmy C. who was sober about eight years. I told Captain Kelly, C.O. of the Medical Section, about my problem with East Ridge and Dunne's mandate and he told me to go up to the new place and check it out. Joe B. and I drove up to Glen Spey, New York and stopped in at Glen Acre Lodge. It was on 20 acres with a pool, and it had a nice, relaxed atmosphere. We arrived when a group session was in progress. After spending the better part of the day there, we explained that we would have to "tab" the payments on the cops when we brought them up there. Jim C. and Doris, who owned the establishment, gave their "okay" for having the cops there. The first group of men went to the "Spey", as they called it and the reports came back that they liked it. They started getting into the "AA" program on a 24-hour basis.
Now the Counseling started a continuum of treatment: first, the five-day stay at Mount Carmel or Freeport for "detox" and then directly up to Glen Spey for three weeks of rehabilitation. The cost was $100.00 a week, plus $65.00 for Mount Carmel. Freeport was still the cops' own responsibility. Dunne was somewhat piqued, but Kelly smoothed his feelings. To give his stamp of approval, Dunne made an unannounced visit and he liked what he saw, so Glen Acre Lodge became his second home. By 1967, the Unit held its First Annual Picnic. I came up with the idea to gather all the families of the cops who went through the Unit to show that you can go with your family and not drink alcohol and still have a good time. We held that picnic and many more at Glen Acre Lodge. It was a complete success and Dunne enjoyed meeting all the families and speaking to them. The comradery was established that day. Cops started to drop by the "Spey" on their day off to attend the "AA" meetings. Then they started to bring their families up there for dinner. The cops started to take speaking commitments and visit other cops up there.
Dunne was able to get funding for the hospitalization of our men by submitting a request directly to the Police Relief Fund. The Fund was administered by the Line Organizations. That is, the PBA, the SBA (Sergeants Benevolent Association), the LBA (Lieutenants Benevolent Association), Captain's Endowment Association and the DEA (Detectives Endowment Association), with the Police Commissioner as its head. The first request was for $10,000, but we owned $8,000 alone to Mount Carmel, plus almost as much to Glen Acre Lodge. I was present at the Police Relief Fund meeting, along with Dunne. The only voice of dissent came from the SBA whose president was not a member of the Police Department Holy Name Society. Dunne won the day and we were off and running. In order to get the cops to repay their obligations for recovery, we decided to withhold their holiday paychecks, which were dispersed every six months. The checks came to about $150.00. We had the checks pulled from the payroll division and the men had to come up to Room 615 to get them. To prevent anyone from slipping through the net, the men had to cash the check at a neighborhood bank in the vicinity of the Police Academy and then bring a portion back to pay down the debt. The money collected was then taken to the Bureau of Audits and Accounts and credited to the Police Relief Fund account. Thus, we began a revolving account. Later on, because of the amount of monies involved, we had to open a commercial account at a local bank and make night deposits when collections required it.
During this year of 1967, Dunne had made contact with N.Y.U. which ran an out-patient clinic for alcoholics on East 34th Street in Manhattan. One of the psychologists was a Dr. Stanley Schiff, PhD. and we started sending a group of five men to see him for group therapy. These were men who maintained sobriety for about six months or so and then returned to alcohol once more. After a month of therapy sessions, Dunne sent me over to speak to Schiff. He, Schiff, was quite surprised that I was in favor of having the cops go to him for help as he had heard that I was a member of "AA." He thought that I would be antagonistic towards him and his therapy. In turn, I told Schiff of the problems I was experiencing with people I knew in "AA." I was thought of as a renegade in "AA" because I was getting paid to help alcoholic cops and in violation of the 8th Tradition of "AA" which states, "Alcoholics Anonymous should remain forever non-professional..." My reply to such members who would take issue with me was to tell them I wasn't "Twelve Stepping" cops, but I was a cop who was detailed to assist the Police Department in order to help the cops to get sober. At that time, there were very few people doing what I was doing, let alone police officers. Dunne always made mention of the so-called "Police Fellowship Club" in the Chicago Police Department which was run by a Lieutenant Joe Thurston since 1952. I had the pleasure of meeting Thurston and spent several hours with him picking his brain on how he ran their Counseling Service out in the "Windy City" and he turned out to be as windy as the city he came from. "From the horse's mouth," he said, he was detailed to Mayor Daly's office and he would "12 Step" ("AA" talk to help an active alcoholic) the Mayor's political cronies and their families. When I asked Thurston for the address of the "Fellowship Club," he said, "It's in the Mayor's office. Call me there." End of conversation. Thurston was in the City for the Papal Visit of Pope Paul VI.
Returning to my initial conversation with Schiff, I told him I didn't care who gave the sick alcoholic help as long as he got help. He seemed a bit shocked by my attitude. He knew of the conflicts he had with other patients of his who also attended "AA" and how well intentioned members of "AA" tried to discourage taking any help other than that of "AA." "AA" would rather see the sick alcoholic suffer coming off a drunk so he would remember the pain and that would cause him to remain sober. Well, I heard stories around "AA" over the years where somebody would sit with a drunk all night long in order to prevent him from picking up a drink, only to have the guy go into convulsions and die. These hard liners would always boast at the next meeting they attended on how the poor guy died, but at least he stayed sober. To some people in "AA," you had to do it the "AA" way or no way at all. To illustrate Schiff's staying power, he is still treating cops at his private practice at his office in Forest Hills, New York. Dr. Stanley Schiff always attended our family picnics, along with our dinner dances. The dinner dance was started in 1968 because of a discussion in one of our groups. One of the cops started to complain that there was no place to take his wife to dine and dance without alcohol being served. We held our first Dinner Dance at the Astoria Manor in Astoria, New York. A lot of precincts and Line Organizations held their rackets there. When I told the owner of the establishment that we wanted him to cater the affair, he went over the price list for the food and the drinks. When I told him "no booze," he said, "You got to be kidding! What the hell cop doesn't drink?" An I replied, "about 300."
The affair went off like clockwork. We wanted to get a medical doctor to be our guest speaker. I went to some doctors I knew in "AA" and they said they would get someone from out-of-town, as they didn't feel the climate was right for them to go public with their disease. The windup was we got a medical examiner from Philadelphia as the speaker. Everyone, including the police brass and the doctors from our Medical Section, were very impressed by his talk. The off- shoot of this was that our doctor from Philadelphia spoke to his Police Commissioner and he gave the word to start a counseling service for his cops there.
In the summer of 1968, I went to Rutgers University Summer School of Alcohol Studies. It was a three-week course. It started the last week of June and continued for the first two weeks of July. I attended with Captain James McEvoy of the Employee Relation Section and Sergeant Henry Ho of the Medical Unit. It was my first exposure to so many people working in the field of alcoholism. Attending were people from the 50 states, Europe, Australia and Canada. Because of going there that year, Dunne and I were invited back each year to give a one-day course on the Counseling Service. In addition, I was invited out to the State of Oregon to speak at the Josephine County Council on Alcoholism. I was scheduled to speak at several different locations in the course of a week. I had to speak at a grammar school and I talked on alcoholism. Now, the legal age to drink in that state was 21 at the time. In the course of my talk, I would ask for a show of hands of how many students drank alcohol. All their little right hands shot skyward. The teachers looked surprised at the response. Next question I asked was how many of the students experienced "blackouts?" I explained what a "blackout" was; that it was when you are drinking and you can't remember how you got home. Ten little hands shot upward and a teacher standing next to me replied without even thinking, "So that's what's wrong with him." That journey taught me a lesson that alcoholism is a democratic disease; it neither respects age, color nor nation of origin. Once you pick up the first drink, you find out one is too many and a hundred is not enough.
After Rutgers, letters came into the Unit from many police departments asking for information to start similar programs in their own communities. One was the police department in Washington, D.C.
The staff once again expanded and three more LDU cops were assigned to the unit. We were being flooded by new men coming in for the first time. In addition, we started a Day Care Program for the men on sick report. When an officer is on sick report, he is required to be in residence except when he is required to visit his Police Surgeon, visit his own doctor or is confined to a hospital. An exception was made in the case of men in the Counseling Service. They were required to come to Room 615, Monday to Friday and to go to an outside "AA" meeting each night. They also were required to list the meetings they attended each night. On my shoulders fell the unhappy task of driving to a different meeting each night, when possible, to check on the progress of the cops. It finally became necessary to have them go to meetings where I knew the cops with long term sobriety attended. It made for a much happier arrangement for all concerned. The men reporting to the unit each work day were designated the "swampers." That was the name given to the guy who cleaned up the "gin mills" in the early morning hours for a free drink.
With the new year of 1969, the unit was experiencing an influx of cross-addicted officers. The "Jellinek Chart" was indicating a Stage 4, "Problem Drinker" but something was amiss. Dr. Robert Gittler, M.D., a district surgeon assigned to the Medical Section, would examine our men when they arrived in the unit and once again when they were ready to be restored to full duty. After conferring with both the C.O. of the Medical Section, the Chief Surgeon, Dunne and the Legal Division, the game plan was that a urine test would be given to various men in the groups. The urine sample would be given in the presence of a superior officer and taken directly to Bendiner & Schlesinger, Inc. where a narcotic screening would be performed. The results would be hand delivered back to the Chief Surgeon. In the windup, we had ten cops that tested positive for narcotics. The group were all under 30 years of age at that time, with an average of four years on the job. These men were in limbo. The Captain let it be known to me that alcohol was a legal substance, while narcotics were illegal. The Captain wanted them held under my care until he could get an opinion from the Legal Bureau on what should be done. One man was an undercover Detective from the Narcotics Division whose job it was to make buys of large quantities of narcotics. He told me that if he didn't take a taste of it when the buy was going down, the sellers would have made him and his life not worth "shit" (his words). Here was a Second Grade Detective with a chest full of medals from the Department who was given the choice: resign or be dismissed in disgrace with your name and your picture on the front page of every newspaper. That in and of itself was a death sentence. He took the resignation route much to the relief of the department.
The other officers in the same boat now saw the handwriting on the wall, but it was too late. They were all dismissed. One of the men and I had a heart-to-heart talk about what could be done for other men. I came up with the idea of making a videotape of us. My face would be shown while he would be viewed only from the back of his head. He told his story on how he got involved in using drugs. The tape was about 30 minutes long. I told Captain Kelly about it and he told me to get rid of it. By the way, I still have it after all these years. A message of hope for three of these men. I met the brother of the cop who made the tape with me. He remained clean after leaving the Police Department. He went on to get an appointment in a civil service position and climbed the ranks in that job. The other man, who I wouldn't make a bet on, became a teacher. I had met his brother after I retired from the job and he couldn't thank me enough for steering his brother in the right direction. The busted Narcotics Detective is still straight and has a lovely family and a large business. One note worthy of mention is the rivalry between the alcoholics and the addicts. Each would look down at the other group. The addicts called the alcoholics "juice heads" and they reciprocated in turn by calling the drug addicts "junkies." I had tried mixing them in the same groups. That was in the "under 30 years of age" group, but that didn't work. Today, in the community based "AA" program, almost all the members under 50 years of age are cross addicted. This bears witness to the theory Msgr. Wall of Mount Carmel told me in those years. He said, "There are no old addicts. After 35, they switch to alcohol and become alcoholics."
With the advent of 1970, Dunne was able to get a policewoman assigned to the Unit by way of the Limited Duty route. Mary D. would man the phones and take messages for Dunne, as well as the Unit. She would assist in interviewing policewomen who, at that time, were assigned to Matron Duty in selected commands, Youth Squads and Narcotic Squad. From 1965 on, we would have a policewoman referred at least once a year. Mount Carmel and Freeport Hospitals had a wing to detox female alcoholics, but the unit lacked a sober female cop. Then along came Mary. Mary headed the woman's group and also interviewed the wives of the cops who were going through the program. By 1973, we had another police officer (female), as they were now designated, assigned to the unit. The women on the job now went on patrol with male cops and were assigned to the same sector cars on radio motor patrol. This caused some concern by the wives of the cops. There were several cases where these mixed partners would party both on and off-duty, causing problems for the Department.
During the spring of 1970, Glen Spey experienced some difficulties, and we had to find a new after-care center to send the cops. We started using "High Watch Farm" in Kent, Connecticut and "Stepping Stone Farm" in Carmel, New York. The Unit had been using "Chit-Chat Farms" in Wernersville, Pa. This was used only for members of the force with the rank of Captain and above. Dunne believed that "rank had its privileges." And so they were treated special, and these alcoholics had a difficult time maintaining their sobriety. A few used the places as a revolving door, in and out, time and time again.
We had been using St. Vincent's Hospital in Harrison, New York for cases where the cop had more than just a drinking problem. In these cases, the alcohol masked serious psychological problems. Dr. J.B. Hayes, M.D., a psychiatrist, treated these officers and sometimes their wives, and children also. One of the first cops he treated was in Mount Carmel Hospital for the five-day detox and he couldn't even remember what he did ten minutes before. Dr. Canavan conferred with Chief Surgeon McCoy, who in turn conferred with Dr. Hayes, and they decided to take him directly up there. The windup was this officer was diagnosed as being very sick. His diagnosis was Korsakoff Syndrome. Dr. Hayes couldn't believe that about a week ago this same officer was armed and working in a patrol car in lower Manhattan.
Another officer needing Dr. Hayes' assistance in the Unit was a man who loved to paint on white walls with his blood. He would go on an orgy and sometime during that episode he would slash both his wrists and cover any white walls he came across.
Another sad case was an officer who was assigned to the Anti-Crime Unit. He was required to dress up as an elderly woman and used as a decoy in a high crime area of the City. He made many arrests, but then he liked the feeling of dressing as a woman. After his tour of duty, he would go to an all-night movie on 14th Street near Third Avenue and sit in the balcony and let guys pick him up. Of course he would drink on the job and off the job, and that's how he ended up in the Counseling Unit, and eventually with Dr. Hayes.
During this stage of growth in the unit, we had to add another part to the safety net for the members of the unit. During the updated interview, each member of the unit returned from the rehabilitation center. Contact with their spouses revealed amy cases of poor money management. This is where our civilian member of the staff, Jim Oaks, a newly ordained Deacon in the Catholic Church, who happened to be a long-time employee of the P.D., used his talents helping these families. He would set up a schedule to repay the debts and have the man make the phone calls, in his presence, to work things out. As I stated earlier on, these services were not planned in advance, but came about because the need arose, and we found a way to meet that need.
By the end of 1970, 370 members of the force had been interviewed and we had outgrown our quarters in the Police Academy. Dunne wanted to have the Unit relocated to the vicinity of the new police headquarters which were located at One Police Plaza near City Hall. Instead, the Medical Section was moved to 346 Broadway, just north of the new Federal Plaza. The Police Academy needed more space and they took over the seventh floor of their building and moved into the space occupied by the Medical Unit. The new space was ten times the size of the cramped old quarters. The Psych Services were right across the hall from the Counseling Unit now. I always had a good working relationship with the Psych Service. It seemed our relation even became closer when we captured their "Head Honcho" and put him in Mount Carmel to dry out. While he was going through all the phases of recovery, he told any cops who recognized him that he was taking an extensive course to see if he could make any improvement in the Alcoholism Program. Here was the grand interpreter of the "MMPI" and all the other psychological tests that the new candidates take prior to being taken into the department for recruit training. He told me that the Psych Service had file cabinets full of unscored tests which no one ever looked at.
In the early months of 1972, the Counseling Service began operations out of 346 Broadway. The hours were scheduled so that the unit was opened from 7:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. In addition, the medical section had a sick desk in operation 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When a member of the force reported sick, he had to call the sick desk. A field sergeant would visit the officer's residence if he was on the "Chronic Sick List." The list represented any member of the force going sick more than five times during a year. If you were injured in the line of duty, that would not count in the total.
Now, when a cop called in sick and his speech was slurred and it was 4:00 a.m., just after the bars closed, I would get a call from the Sergeant in charge of the Sick Desk to pick him up. Dunne thought it was a great idea. He would tell all the bosses, "You call. We haul." Because of the increase in population in the Unit, we got another department car to add to our fleet. This vehicle was an undercover narcotics auto, a 1972 maroon Lincoln, two-door, Continental, with a tufted leather roof. I called it our "Pimpmobile." One of our new counselors who had recently enrolled in the Social Workers Program at Hunter College went on an errand for Dunne and, on the way back, went to his old command in Harlem. Raja was dressed in a white linen suit with a Panama hat to top off the outfit. He just whizzed past 125th Street and Adam Clayton Boulevard when he was pulled over by a sector car. He was ordered out and told to "assume the position." Raja avoided the Lincoln like the plague after that.
A new development occurred as far as hospitals were concerned. Blue Cross started coverage for detoxification of patients addicted to alcohol. The local medical facilities were quick to take advantage of this new market. Columbus Hospital, across the street from the Police Academy, opened its doors while the Unit was still housed at that location. Roosevelt Hospital had set up a detox and rehab center at the Smither's Institute. Out in Flushing, Queens, Booth Memorial Hospital set aside a floor for an alcoholic program. The seventies opened up new hope for our men. We were able to get a cop assigned to the unit who was a social worker. This caused some problems with the cops who went through the program and remained active in outside "AA" groups. They had to be calmed down that the unit was not drifting away from the "AA" principles, but was only adding to the help we had to offer the newcomer. Any change that was made in the Unit brought up resistance.
During this period, Dunne was very active with "ACCEPT," the New York Council on Alcoholism, Inc. He started training courses for people who were interested in working in the new field of alcoholism. This was the budding nucleus for the eventual "CAC" (Credentialed Alcoholism Counselor) within New York State. In addition to the cops who I was corresponding with all over the country, we also were gathering new recruits from our one-day presentation at Louis F. Presnall's Course at Rutgers.
One day, I got a call from the United States Department of Indian Affairs in Washington, D.C. They wanted to send one of their agents up to New York and get first-hand knowledge on how to intervene with the active alcoholic in a work setting. I told them they would have to speak with Dunne first and then we would take it from there. What they didn't tell us was that their budding alcoholism counselor had to be "dried out" first before we could do anything with him. Well, the "Chief," as he was called, stayed with us and became active in "AA" and went through the Unit and then off to the reservation in the far west. That brings to mind the New York City Department of Corrections' desire to start a similar program for their correction officers. Their first test case sent to us was their own staff psychiatrist. He was in very poor shape and we had to take him to Mount Carmel and then to a rehabilitation center. We contacted the Doctor's group and they took him from there on.
About the same time, the DAILY NEWS was doing a feature article called, "Business and Industry are Looking for the Hidden Alcoholic." The feature writer was Abe Pivowitz who had contacted the Police Department's Deputy Commissioner of Public Relations and he told me to do the interview. I told him that Dunne had to give the okay first, as I knew his feelings on the press and that he thought that he, alone, had the qualifications to deal with the devils (reporters). I went so far as to have the C.O. of the Medical Section intervene on my behalf. Dunne was away on a retreat for three weeks, praying and meditating at the 18 holes on a New Hampshire Resort, and I left message after message, but he never returned the calls. I was backed into a corner and I explained this to Pivowitz. I told him that I was going to get it from Dunne upon his return. Anyway, I was cited in a one- page article that ran on Thursday, September 10, 1970, about 20 lines in a third of a column. It was a very informative message and to the left of the article was a 20-question self- test for interested readers to take. Word came back to me that all the cops were taking the test that day in their local cop bar & grill. But one cop's wife read the article and wrote me a letter, some 12 days after the publication of the article.
She told of her desperation and, as I read the letter, I knew there must be another hundred or so families afraid to contact the unit. The cops had their wives and families believing that it would be the end of the job and their career if the "blew the whistle" on them. As it turns out, so many, many times, it is really the beginning.
Dr. Ruth Fox, M.D., was a member of the ACCEPT (Alcohol Counseling Course) Board of Directors and she believed that, in some cases where the alcoholic could not maintain his or her's sobriety, she would prescribe "Antabuse." The purpose of this medication was to encourage sobriety in the individual taking it. This was accomplished by making a person deathly ill if they so much as tasted any alcohol. A person taking Antabuse was warned about using mouthwash and cough medicine because even a slight amount would trigger a violent reaction. The Antabuse contained a blocker that prevented the alcohol from being metabolized by their body. When word leaked out to the "AA" group in the community, they decided I was a heretic to the tenets of the founding fathers of the movement. But in spite of the outcry, Dunne had selected individuals and offered them the benefits of Antabuse. These selected volunteers would come into the unit prior to reporting to their assignments and take the Antabuse in front of their counselor, as they were now called. These titles were bestowed because they completed their "ACCEPT" course.
Help started to come on-line for the sick, suffering alcoholic in and out of the job. Federal funds began to shower down on all. This opened the door and interested professionals entered the new-found field of Alcoholism. Even "AA" began to change, slowly at first, but then it began to expand. More and more new groups were started, almost doubling in size every couple of years.
At the Annual Dinner Dance in 1970, Msgr. Dunne gave out a token to each member of the group indicating their length of sobriety. When I mailed out the flyers for the dance, I left a space for the member attending the dance to fill in the number of years of sobriety. I had read about the tokens in an article in the weekly publication, Coin World. I wrote away to the company that produced these silver dollar size bronze tokens and ordered two hundred of them. I put each token in a plastic coin holder with the member's name and length of sobriety. Even this little act of sharing that our program works was thought of by some "sickies" that we were checking up on the people in the group. The tokens turned out to be a success. Outside "AA" groups began to give them out at their celebrants anniversaries.
Prior to the Unit's move to 346 Broadway, Captain Kelly was promoted to Deputy Inspector and Lieutenant Olpe came on board as Commanding Officer. Chief Surgeon McCoy retired and his replacement was Dr. Clarence Robinson, M.D. and, with it, the open door policy that I had enjoyed for years came to an end. Robinson told me in no uncertain terms that he couldn't be bothered with "those cops, like McCoy." I had to depend on Surgeon Gittler for the medical assistance that the unit required.
Lieutenant Olpe was promoted to Captain and was transferred and Captain Francis Hall took over command of the Medical Section. I had been blessed with these commanding officers and so had the unit. At the same time, the City of New York was experiencing a fiscal crisis. In order to balance the budget, Mayor Beam had to lay off Civil Service workers and, for the first time in the history of the Department, its officers had to be laid off. In 1974, the Department had 31,038 uniformed personnel, and by 1975 the total had dropped to 26,849. It would take a couple of years before the City rehired any of these laid-off cops.