Right after the new year of 1980 began, the Police Commissioner gave his approval to move the Counseling Unit from its present location at 346 Broadway to John Jay College. Dunne and I were given a tour of our new quarters. But there was a fly in the ointment. The location had to be approved by Inspector Daniel Ryan, the Commanding Officer of the Health Service Division. A few days passed and Ryan wanted to see the new quarters and tagging along is the Stress Coordinator, Lieutenant James F. D. Upon arriving on the fourth floor, we met Sid Cooper, the retired Chief of I.A.D. of the Knapp Commission fame. The two people with me let out a gasp and I could read their minds. They then voiced what I feared. "We can't move the Counseling Unit here." I asked them to explain. They replied, "Didn't you see that Sid Cooper has an office on the floor?" I replied that it didn't matter to me as long as we get the unit out of a department building. With that reply, Ryan got angry and told me he'll put a stop to the move. At this point, I had enough. I had just returned from a death leave. I had buried my mother and, five days later, I had to bury my mother-in-law. Since my return to duty, I had been packing the office records and emptying the safe where we stored the firearms from the members of the force that we put into the unit. There were about 200 firearms to voucher as we were moving out of a police building. Then I had to listen to these two pontificate. I had never in my life been a "boss-fighter" but I spoke up and I told the Inspector what I thought. It became apparent, on my part, that both Ryan and Lieutenant James D. would use this to their best advantage.
When I returned to 346 Broadway, one of the cops let something slip. She said that they, meaning the counseling staff, had a meeting at Sgt. Artie's house on Staten Island. At the meeting was Lieutenant James D. and Dunne. She then went in to her office and I went about packing my records. I knew that we were going to move and now it was doubtful as to where.
I had almost 28 years on the job. I had a good rep. I thought I could go all the nine yards and put in another 10 years and then retire. At the time, I had a staff of nine cops. Most of these I had to light a fire under to get them to put in anything extra. Dunne had spoiled them rotten. He covered them to attend college on company time. This caused a breakdown in authority. I went to college one night a week and took one course at a time. I had been attending Queens College Ace Program for the past seven years and I had yet to open a textbook in the office. I could look around and these counselors were busy, but not with department work. Where could I turn to? So, I did the best I could with what I had.
It brings to mind one of Dunne's favorite counselors, "Jake, the snake." He did look like a rattler. He was thin, bald with big ears. I thought he looked like another type of symbol. Anyway, Jake convinces Dunne that the Unit needs another car and, in fact, he has a contract out on a brand new station wagon that was seized in a narcotic bust. The station wagon belonged to Jake now. What did he use it for? Once in a while he would take men up to the new place we were using for rehab. It was called Veritas Villa and located up in St. Joseph's, New York. It was run by the Nuns but directed by Jim C. of Glen Acre Lodge. The Spey had closed after Jim left and started a new life with a new partner.
On the return trip from the Villa, Jake would take a little side trip. He would deliver tv's, washing machines, tires. You name it and he could get it and deliver it the same day. Dunne didn't want to know from nothing. It was similar to the time I caught Jake tending bar in Mary's husband's pub in the Bronx. Mary was the police office (female) who was supposed to counsel other women from the job. Mary's husband was a Fire Captain. He opened the pub on Crosby Avenue in the Pelham Bay area. He had another cop work behind the bar. He was also a counselor from the unit, Steve.
The only way to clean up the mess was to clean house and start over again. This was an impossibility.
The moving men came in February, 1980 and it took two days to complete the move. In the meantime, the Medical Section moved back to the Police Academy, while the Counseling Unit went to their new quarters at John Jay College. The rooms were painted and each counselor had their own office. There was a waiting room, along with a small room that could be used as a nursery. My office was at one end and Dunne's was at the other end. This was the first time I ever had my own office. I had always shared the room with Dunne. It had a nice view. I could catch a glimpse of the Hudson River, if I looked to the west. My wife, Doris, sent me a large plant to decorate the office.
It was April, 1980 and my days were numbered. I had to go to the indoor shooting cycle in the basement of One Police Plaza that morning. Dunne called me down to his office. What surprised me at the time was Lieutenant James F. D. seated to his right. I approached Dunne from his left side. Dunne speaks first. "Joe, sit down. You know Jim, heh, heh?" So I sit and he can't look me in the eye. He continues. "Joe, you work too hard. You are too dedicated and you are too old." I just continue to look right at him and he still avoids my eyes. "Joe," he begins again, "you helped 2,000 cops, including Jim, here." Dunne turns his head and Lieutenant James F. D. gazes in the direction of his shoes. "Joe, I want you to retire." I replied, "I don't want to retire." Then Dunne puts on his famous scowl and frowning and glaring, he continues. "If you don't retire, I'm going to have the Police Commissioner take that Gold Shield off of you. Talk it over with Doris, then let me know." "I don't need to talk it over with Doris. It's a financial impossibility," I said. Dunne began to fume. "I want you out, you are too old." It became THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK, where the captain says to the crew, "What I say three times is true." You are too old." Then I replied, "Couldn't we have had this conversation in private?"
It was no use continuing to talk to him, and then a thought crossed my mind. Dunne wanted a witness in case I got angry. That way he could nail me. The next day was the first day of another transit strike. I had to drive two members of the Medical Section into their office. I knew both men almost twenty years. Bill A. was a Detective and he had brought cops over to the 88th Precinct and would handcuff them to the pipe in my office till I finished work and then take the cop to Mount Carmel Hospital. Bill looked a bit somber when I picked him up. He started the trip by recounting what happened to a Chief Surgeon when the Department wanted him out. The Chief Surgeon put up a battle royale when the Personnel Bureau didn't want the Class of 1969 to have a psych test and wanted to overlook certain medical defects the new recruits had. Bill started, "Joe, you know how they got him to retire?" I said, "No." They told him they were going to accuse him of medical malpractice and they said they knew it wasn't true, but, "it's going to cost you a fortune to prove your innocence." Bill went on, "And maybe we'll move in the direction that you stole Department funds."
Bill didn't need to paint a picture for me. He was the messenger for Inspector Daniel Ryan. Yes, they could accuse me of anything and I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. I was pissed from what Dunne did to my wife the night before. He had called her from his rectory and told her he wanted me to retire and she replied that we were not even ready for such a move. Then Dunne played his hard-ball ploy. "Well," he said, "Joe will lose that Gold Shield and the $3,000 that goes along with it." Doris told me she shot back, "And you call yourself a priest?" I tried all the people I knew in the PBA, the DEA, the LBA. I went to the Police Commissioner's Office. All the doors closed on me. The worst had already occurred the night before. While Dunne was talking to my wife, Doris, he had a couple of friends of mine, a Lieutenant from Manhattan South, and a sergeant from OMA pay me a visit in my office at John Jay College. Doris called me at work and here is "Just Plain Bill," as I called him, and Sgt. "H" and I told them what Dunne had done to Doris and then I realized they were in on it, too.
I packed up my things and loaded my car and brought my uniforms home. I put in my retirement papers and applied for an accidental disability pension, which would give me three-quarters pay, tax free, but I was even turned down for that. I was injured coming back from Mount Carmel in 1967 and I was under treatment for two years at St. Clare's Hospital. I went for treatment on my lunch hour.
Yes, it left a bad taste in my mouth. But what happened to the characters in the drama? Lieutenant James F. D. became director of the unit after Sgt. Walter S. left when he couldn't gain any new converts to Jehovah's Witnesses. Sgt. B. tried running the ship and he had a bad panic attack and then took up a chair at Psych Services. Dunne was forced out by Lieutenant James F. D. by 1982. He later had a heart attack and left the Department on three-quarters pay retirement. Then Detective John C. L., CSW, CAC and currently Lieutenant Jackie McC are guiding a small Counseling Service. Someone once asked me what I envisioned for the Counseling Service and, without hesitation, I replied, "It's for the cop who isn't even conceived yet. They will always have a place to turn to for help."
The R.H.R. stress study brought about a trauma response unit, short-term in-house counseling, cardiovascular fitness program, in-house stress reduction, stress management, a suicide response team.