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A Legendary Chicago Police Officer
"Francois" The Frank Pape Story If one could turn back the pages of history and bring forth a Wild Bill Hickock...Pat Garrett...a Bat Masterson...or a Wyatt Earp... they would find that myth and legend often collide with the real truth about these American heroes of the late 1800s in the untamed West. No one is likely to dispute Wyatt Earp's reputation as one of the nineteenth century's most famous and feared lawmen. Popular legend teaches us that Earp, as a U.S. Marshal, oversaw a rugged populace and taught respect to the lawless elements of his time and place through the liberal use of the unfettered muscle and the deadly use of his .44 Smith & Wesson. There also exists a school of thought that Wyatt might have been a bad guy for a while himself, popular legends being what they are. Imagine what might happen if the national media were afforded the chance to travel back to a distant age and interview Wyatt Earp about his life and times first hand. The Media likes of Sixty Minutes, Ted Koppel, Sam Brokaw and the rest of the national commentators would be clamoring for press credentials, would they not? The film industry has also been enamored with the Wyatt Earp legend. Mr. Earp was the subject of movies like My Darling Clementine, starring Henry Fonda; and The Gunfight at O.K. Corral with Burt Lancaster playing the mythical Earp role. Television emblazoned actor Hugh O'Brien for the Earp image in a popular weekly show. And now the Hollywood dream factory is at hard work on yet another new film extravaganza covering Wyatt Earp's life, this time with Kevin Costner slated for the lead role. That's big box office and all in all a lot of coverage for one well publicized, historic law enforcement figure. But what if the movie makers and image shapers were to find out what historians of the Old West law and order have known all along; that Wyatt Earp factually is credited with only one verified killing of an evildoer while wearing a star? That occurring in a barroom brawl. No-one can say with certainty just who killed three members of the Clanton-McLowery gang at the infamous O.K. Corral gun battle. It might have been Wyatt Earp, but then maybe not. Post mortems and ballistics were not readily done in his day. It could have been one of his brothers or even Doc Holliday taking the score. Wyatt, however, has enjoyed better "PR" at the time of the event and most certainly over the years. Saint, sinner or fraud, Wyatt Earp's dubious place in history is best left to the armchair historians to ponder. The saga of Wyatt Earp...the man who ended the gunplay in Tombstone, a town so tough they named it after a grave marker. But move over Mr. Earp, here comes the real McCoy. For there does exist a lawman, a police officer who still walks amongst us and his deeds surpass that of the smokey blue mirrors surrounding Marshal Earp who died just four short years before this man joined the Chicago Police Department. Their life and times crossed. His name is Frank Pape, and he and his guys helped tame Chicago...a brutal and savage sprawling metropolis with ten score the number of dangerous characters as say, a Tombstone, Arizona or Abilene, Kansas. Wild Bill Hickock, Wyatt Earp, his rascally brothers and Pat Garrett would often cross the line of propriety to suit their own indulgences. They were raucous men of often questionable character who walked a tightrope between the legal and illegal when it suited them. Hickock was shot in the back of the head while playing a hand of poker in Deadwood, South Dakota. Garrett, who killed the outlaw Billy the Kid, was shot in the Arizona desert while urinating on the road. Bat Masterson became sheriff of Dodge City. Together with brothers Jim and Ed, he dispensed justice at the point of a six-shooter. After hanging up the unbelt for the last time, Masterson settled in New York where he covered the sports scene for a morning newspaper. When Bat Masterson died, Frank Pape was twelve-years-old. All in all, Masterson, Garrett and Earp were violence-prone men whose passing failed to diminish the luster of their reputations. This same media that would stand in a two-hour line for the chance to interview a Wyatt Earp for just five minutes...probably would not know who Frank Pape is, or what he is, none of the admiration, awe and notoriety of the man, and that is a shame. In his day, Pape neither sought media attention, nor did he welcome the kind of fawning platitudes bestowed on the Western gunslingers who encouraged the dime novelists of a bygone era. That is why the passage of time has left him largely unnoticed. But he is alive and well, sharp as a tack and possessing a vivid remembrance of his era and this noteworthy contribution to them. The millennium is not at hand. Within a few years, we will close the book on the 1990s and carve the names of the century's notable figures into history's pages. Who in the field of law enforcement during theses years or the last on hundred before them for that matter, has stood as tall as one Frank Pape? Been as controversial? Matched his accomplishments pound for pound? The answer is NO-ONE really. Thus the question: who is this man among law officers? This Frank Pape who turns the heads of Chicago's retired "blue knights" when he enters a funeral home to say goodbye to one of "his guys" -- just departed? There are few of his men left now, but Frank knows them all. For most of his thirty-nine years with the Department, Captain Frank Pape was a major crimes investigator. He went up against the worst gunmen of his time and headed a robbery unit whose cases were front page media headlines. The exploits of he and his men's endeavors were often copied into the scripts of the popular early TV series M-Squad, which assisted in catapulting actor Lee Marvin to stardom status. In his career, Frank Pape was personally involved in fifteen gun battles. He helped send over 300 felons to the penitentiary and five more to the electric chair. Nine criminals who roamed Chicago's mean streets and who had the misfortune to tangle with this no-nonsense cop became residents of the county morgue for their troubles. That's correct -- Frank dispatched nine of the baddest to accountability with their maker. He is a tough, yet compassionate man, quite thoughtful and of a philosophical bent, but to the point. He knew most, if not all of the power brokers of his day; the politicians, the big downtown merchants and the Commissioner of Police knew him well. "I worked with Commissioner Timothy O'Connor not as a partner, but we worked in the same unit when we were both patrolmen, and I knew Tim well and he knew me. He always called me Francois," Pape says with a smile. Francois -- a suave encomium for a tough cop -- but a laudatory salutation from the Commissioner of Police. There have been many fine and courageous men who have brought honor to law enforcement through individual acts of bravery and dedication to the job. In the last sixty years, major crime investigators like the urbane college man Johnny Howe, Frank Reynolds and of more recent vintage, Jack Hinchy, Bill Hanhardt and Joe DiLeonardi, quickly come to mind. But within the profession, when you get down to it, none stands ever so tall as Frank Pape -- a true hero and a legend to his peers -- Francois to his Departmental boss.' Two decades have come and gone since Frank Pape retired from active duty and we have not seen his like since. Captain Pape was a "renegade" for he never shied away from the consequences of speaking his mind on the issues that troubled him within the Department. He spoke out against the bureaucracy while his peers remained silent. He backed "his guys." There might never be another one to take his measure, but today's police officer can learn valuable lessons for life by listening to this square-jawed veteran of the streets -- and a cop to his bones -- as he reflects on the state of law enforcement today. It can be said that we live in an era of diminishing priorities; where courage, valor and the willingness to accept the consequences of one's actions come to the fore far less today than they did just a generation or two ago. These qualities of character appear to be in short supply, indeed almost a rarity, but they were the trademarks of Frank Pape and the police officers he led. They were the cops the hoodlums feared and with good reason. Pape and his unit, plain and simply, worked at being the best. They got the job done. And the good people and those that sought to prey upon them knew that. It was comfortable to the one and most disconcerting to the other. What troubles Frank Pape these days is the fundamental change in the way the police view their profession -- their values towards "the job"." In many quarters there exists a psychology that it's good enough just to get by. Most officers are back peddling when they should be charging forward. They spend too much time keeping one eye on politicians and self-protecting departmental administrators and the other on the always alluded to retirement date circled on their calendars. They just want out and they want to do so peacefully. Never stir the water. The less done, the better. The chance to ride by. Just keep the supervisors happy and cause no political heat is the watchword of the day. As Pape sees it, the commitment; the love of the Job that he and his colleagues once brought to and treasured in their profession seems difficult to find amongst the present ranks and he insists it can be done his way this very day. "In order to do police work, one has to be aggressive; going forward to meet the crime problems of the department," Pape says without reservation.. "Policemen all over the country are retreating from these things simply because they get no support from anybody. Sometimes not even from each other." And this, Frank Pape just does not understand. He shakes his head...but he never bows. Captain Pape is 83-years-young now. He keeps his finger on the pulse of the times by conversing with younger officers who tell him that's just the way things are done nowadays. But Frank does not agree. He cannot bring the pride in his police-oriented mind to comply. He knows that all of American society has undergone profound change since he was first appointed to the force as a rookie patrolman and assigned to the Albany Park District on March 25, 1933. But in his heart he is equally certain that a young police officer can still make his mark -- still have courage; be a "stand-up guy;" do what is right for the community, the Department and remain true to the police calling. Instead, too often, he hears the familiar discourse of today's police officer, almost a whine that is contrary to his very nature. Cops are basically saying: "This is the way we're going to give it to them, the public.' We're not going to do a damn thing we don't have to." Pape says: "Now they back away from situations. In my day, I have seen so many acts of bravery and devotion to duty that when I hear a police officer talk about how we're not going to do anything, if this is the way they (the administration) want it -- well, I can tell you, it hurts me badly. It hurts me. True cops should be a better mettle than that and should not shrink from their duty because of job security fears generated by supervisory personnel." For more years than Pape cares to remember, his 60-member Robbery Detail would work a case around the clock. No over-time pay either. Just go the extra mile and enjoying a unique satisfaction of a cop's job well done. "We would sleep on desks. I'd sleep on the floor, in the car or in some empty building if I was on surveillance. There were days I wouldn't come home. I know that police officers in many instances do the same today, but there is an ill wind blowing on "the Job." There was no higher honor for a Chicago police officer than to be selected by Pape for duty on his robbery detail. They were the departmental elite. Many of them, like James McGuire, were promoted to the upper echelon with the Chicago Police Department, county and statewide law enforcement. McGuire, who served in Pape's unit for close to five years, later distinguished himself as a Deputy Chief in the Cook County Sheriff's Police before being appointed Superintendent of the Illinois State Police under the regime of Governor Richard B. Ogilvie. As a young robbery detective just coming on board, Jim McGuire recalls the sense of awe he had for these men. Pape's men. The Department's best. He admits that the first year with the unit was pretty rugged. "When you first came in, they didn't know you. When they talked to you, they called you kid," he recalls. "It took about a year to earn the trust of these veteran detectives. I recall how they would take you to task and straighten you out for what they consider reckless conduct or inattention to detail," McGuire said. "The toughest year of my life was that first rookie year in the Robbery Detail." In time, McGuire earned their unflagging respect and became an integral part of the team. Frank Pape, he remembers, set the standards by which all others were judged. "Frank's style and success was envied by many, but never duplicated," McGuire said. "We were his boys and he took care of us. What a boss he was." Born in Chicago's Bucktown neighborhood and raised by German-Irish parents, Frank Pape learned the way of the streets at an early age. As a Lieutenant of the robbery detail, he earned a reputation as the kind of cop who would go to the ends of the earth to protect "one of his guys" or to apprehend a vicious criminal -- including the use of deadly force...which was justly deserved. If you ask too many questions or give these street criminals a second chance, you could wind up dead. Pape learned the awful truth of "the Job" dangers and realities when, in the earlier part of his career, he watched his fellow police officer and partner, Morris Friedman, die in the streets. Detective Friedman always made it a practice of firing a few warning shots over a fleeing criminal's head. But, in this instance, the criminal, one Lyman Stanton Heiman, shot Friedman through the stomach before he could return fire. Heiman, a two-bit gunman out of Detroit who had a string of grocery store robberies to his name, was instantly killed in the crossfire. Whether it was Pape, Friedman or Rudy Friedl who fired the fatal shot, no-one can be sure. Pape leaned over his fallen partner, but the veteran city detective who worked the streets with Frank for so many shifts, knew he was dying and stated so in words forever toning in Pape's ears. The man the Commissioner called "Francois"...always remembered. Until that fateful night, Pape had never fired his weapon during a tour of duty. But he learned a tough, costly lesson; one that he would carry with him throughout a lifetime. A lifetime -- that makes him one of, if not the most famous, law enforcement officer of this century and possibly even the last. "Our theory was," he emphatically states, "if you shoot at us, you do so at your own peril. We're going to shoot back and we're going to kill you if we can. When I see police officers shot down as they are today with very little or no reason at all, I wonder why they don't do away with the bastards who did it! An eye for an eye! Get rid of them! They're mad dogs to begin with. If they would kill a cop, they would not think twice about John Q. Public, a woman or just a young kid. Everyone is at peril. Someone has to say the police mean business. The public won't and should not have to tolerate the lawlessness and the fear. Don't they kill mad dogs? Keeping the streets safe is a veritable war and has to be treated as such and we're now losing," Pape adds. "The big cities are like armed camps. Gunfire goes on every day with impunity. No-one feels safe in their community." It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Frank is saying. Use a gun and we're coming for you with guns. We're the law and shooters are going to pay a price. Pape and his officers fought crime with a no-holds-barred attitude. His gun of choice -- the weapon that sent seven of the nine felons he shot to an early grave -- was a .38 caliber Police Positive with a boned handle. Pape carried the revolver in a specially tailored canvass pants pocket, hand sewn by his wife. His backup gun, always tucked securely inside the glove compartment was s .44-40 Colt Army Special with a seven-inch blue-steel barrel. The modern day equivalent is a Magnum .44. These were his front-line weapons against crime and Pape was not afraid to use them when necessary. "But...he adds with a sigh, "a lot of people say that nowadays you can't do this, you can't do that. A Tribune reporter at (journalist) Pat Leeds funeral once confided to me, boy can we use you today. Things on the street are so out of hand.' I told that newspaper reporter: you'd be writing bad things about me and then Uncle Sam would try to put me in jail!" The government, like the press and the TV people, can be strongly anti-cop. And then the "G" moves to placate the politics of a situation. Frank's relations with the media were, for the most part, cordial. Pape worked with the veteran crime reporters of the Chicago press corps and would share newsworthy items with the writers. The late Walter Spirko of the old Chicago Sun (past President of the Chicago Newspaper Reporter's Association), recalled one of his early conversations with the Captain. "I was the kind of guy who cruised around the police districts and wasn't afraid to step in the blood with the homicide dicks," Spirko states. "That's how I got to know Pape, who would say to me, now Walter, I'll tell you what I'm working on, but it's not ready for publication yet.' I respected that and we built a trust level. Frank Pape had guts -- intestinal fortitude. And the guys he had on his squad were the same way." Frank Pape fulfilled a singular personal career ambition and was promoted to Captain of Police in 1959. He was then assigned to command the (Seventy) Englewood district on the South Side. At that time, Englewood was still a racially mixed community just beginning to experience a steady rise in the crime rate. Pape went down there and served notice that the officers in his command -- both white and black -- would not be made moving targets by the criminal elements. As Pape explained the situation to sitting Judge Duke Slater, an African-American jurist who called Frank into his chambers one day: "There's nothing in the law or the rule book that says we (the police) can't defend ourselves. From now on we're serving notice to the criminals in Englewood. We will defend ourselves. This is the policy as long as I'm here. If one of my officers is out there making a legal arrest and they punch them once -- then you punch them back twice. If they kick you once, you kick back twice. And if they don't get the message, then you bring them in here to me," he says with a glance that tells -- somehow -- the situation will be handled--the message gotten across. "We don't want to bully anyone -- but we certainly cannot accept attacks on the police," he states. "If we do accept such attacks, it will get out of hand and time has proven that overly liberal policies have turned cities into jungles. Chicago is not safe now. People leave here to find a safe community out in the suburbs." Crime was ultimately reduced in the Seventh District and Pape soon earned the deserved respect of the predominant African-American population. Community and business leaders praised him for his willingness to interact with local residents and for maintaining an open door policy to anyone who had a beef, or just wanted to drop by to see the Commander. The Captain would talk to anyone. Looking back on it, Pape believes his years spent in Englewood were some of the most satisfying of his long, productive and well publicized career. He was a friend to every law abiding citizen, but there existed a long standing belief that because he was a no-nonsense guy that he, Frank Pape, might be racist in his thinking. The perception was fed by the news media slants of the time, following an investigative incident surrounding a homicide case that had occurred only a year prior to his Englewood command. Pape, who was then Deputy Chief of Detectives, led a pre-dawn raid on the West Side home of one James Monroe, a 35-year-old black man alleged to have been involved in the recent murder of Peter Saisi, a 34-year-old North Sider who was shot in his basement. Pape had good reason to suspect the James Monroe was involved. Saidi's "grieving" widow fingered Monroe at the Bureau of Identification, before lapsing into a heartrending crying jag, clever little actress that she was. Mary Saisi, the mournful 34-year-old widow and her boyfriend Richard Lansing were eventually pegged as the rightful killers and were each sentenced to prison for their troubles. James Monroe filed a civil suit charging that Pape and his men had smashed down his doors, dragged him out of bed and physically assaulted him. After being assessed and $8000 judgment by a U.S. District Court jury, Captain Pape turned around and sued Time Magazine for libel after they had published a misleading account of the arrest, based solely on Monroe's dubious allegations. The case went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court before it was decided in the magazine's favor in 1971. A footnote to this story: James Monroe was later convicted of burglary and sent to prison in an unrelated case the day the court ruling came down. The media publicity, with a negative spin stemming from the Monroe incident, clouded Pape's otherwise cordial relations with the African-American community. Returning in 1865 to the police department (following a four-year leave of absence as Chief of Security at Arlington Park Race Track), a minority of a minority group was parading against him in front of police headquarters. "The objective was they didn't want me back on the job. They (the demonstrators) didn't know me or anything about me. Sam Nolan, a highly respected black officer who worked in my Robbery Unit at on time (and subsequently rose to become a Superintendent of the Department) told them, listen, you're charging this man with being a racist. He's far from a racist. I know the man. He doesn't care if you're black or white.' After Sam spoke, thirty-five of them decided they weren't going to march against me after all and back to the department I went." The racial violence in Los Angeles last summer sparked by the Rodney King verdict struck the legendary Pape as very tragic. In his mind, it dealt a permanent black eye to police-minority relations. "I believe that the King case hurt police departments all over the country," Pape said. "To stand by and watch that kind of thing (the police action) turned my stomach. All over the country people are saying, do you see what I tell you they (the police) do? There's proof of it right there.' To be honest with you, I don't care what this guy (King) said or did, that kind of activity is way out of line. And no one would accuse me of being a bleeding heart liberal. They should have got the cuffs on and restrained that man. I'm just a tough cop -- retired now. But I've been through it and can sagely comment on my younger peers." Pape does not condone police brutality against citizens in any shape or form. He believes just as strongly, however, that misguided civil libertarians have tilted the scales of justice from victim to the perpetrators, where murderers and rapists are being moddly-coddled by a criminal justice system that is in tatters at the expense of the police, the community and crime victims in particular. There seems to be little or no regard for human life today. To be carrying a gun is deemed to be "well dressed." The recent police board trial of Chicago Police Commander Jon G. Burge alarms Frank Pape. He wonders what this country is coming to when convicted cop killer Andrew Wilson can deprive Commander Burge and detectives under his command of their livelihood ten years after the occurrence and after having been fully exonerated in federal court several times. Wilson accused Burge and two detectives of torturing him with electrical devices while he was in custody at Area 2 headquarters...ten years ago. Burge, a highly decorated police officer and Vietnam veteran, was suspended under the tenure of former Superintendent LeRoy Martin in November, 1991 pending formal charges. "If a commander goes through this hell, what about the little guy? The average street cop who is unjustly accused?" Pape shakes his head at the thought of being charged ten years after the occurrence. "This is a disgraceful thing. A guy who killed two policemen; Officers William Fahey and Richard O'Brien -- ten years later -- can charge police and as a result, they get suspended and are put through administrative and financial hell. Now, they've had four investigations prior to this one I'm told, and what the hell are they looking for?" he wonders. "Nothing new has come out. I had hoped Martin would re-instate those guys when he retired." (Editor's Note: Former Superintendent LeRoy Martin is now the Director of Public Safety for the Chicago Housing Authority.) The case was finally adjudicated by the Police Board in February after Burge wilted in administrative limbo for fourteen months. The Commander was fired from the Police Department. Undoubtedly, Burge will find himself saddled with a heavy financial burden as he launches the appeals process through the Circuit Court...Appellate Court...possibly even the Supreme Court, in order to remove this stigma from his name. Most police officers will consider the Police Board's decision a political one, in light of the Rodney King brutality case in Los Angeles. Fearing a similar outbreak of rioting in Chicago, the city moved against Jon Burge and made him an example. However, the two detectives charged with Burge in the case are now eligible to return to duty. Still supporting the street officer, Pape joined a number of current and retired officers in a show of solidarity for Burge last February. Outside an auditorium at Ashland and Van Buren, youthful picketers carrying signs and chanting slogans heckled the officers as they entered. Never one to hold his feelings if he thought they should be aired, Pape was prepared to stand toe to toe with them. "Behind the barricades there were a bunch of kids hollering Burge must go and all this kind of stuff," he recalls. "I started to walk over there to give them a piece of my mind and a sergeant in uniform stopped me. He said I should ignore them, but how could I? I was prepared to debate issues. Finally, I told them your mothers and fathers ought to be ashamed of you people.'" Plain speaking from a tough but understanding cop who never shied away from a fight when he believed the cause to be just. Backing of his modern day comrades by a man the Commissioner called..."Francois." Since his retirement in February 1972, Captain Frank Pape has shunned the glare of publicity. Until very recently, he has had little to day publicly about his life and times and has refused to dignify the wild assertions of media people like Ovid Demaris, who implied that Captain Pape was connected to the Chicago Outfit in his book Captive City. Or Chuck Giancana's ridiculous memoir of his more notorious gangster brother Sam in Double Cross. This book misidentifies Pape as an "Italian from the neighborhood;" and insidiously implies that Frank only went "after the same guys that are givin' us (the Chicago Outfit) trouble." Around any man who makes his mark, there is an aura of notoriety and writers tend to expand and capitalize on this fact. Frank Pape was never given the opportunity to issue a printed rebuttal to Demaris' contention that he was an "associate of Syndicate bosses." Demaris alleges Pape used a vacation resort in Pistakee Lake to "hunt ducks with his Dago friends." It is doubly tragic because, by demeaning him with these kind of falsehoods, an irresponsible journalist, at the same time, demeans all police. "Now let me tell you something..." Pape's gaze narrows. His face registers the contempt he feels in his soul for the syndicate kingpin, the drug pusher who peddles his filth to the children he so dearly loves and the juice racketeer shaking down the working man for his last dime. "I hated mobsters. I hated guys like Accardo..." his voice snarls as he spits out their names one by one... "Giancana,,,Alderiso and these kinds of people. I locked up a lot of those dirty bastards." Frank Pape's sterling reputation remains intact. His integrity has withstood the onslaught of an Ovid Demaris, of the bleeding hearts who mourned a sad tune for burglar James Monroe and of any number of jealous colleagues who anonymously maligned him over the years in the departmental rumor mill at 11th and State just to feather their own nests. The man the Commissioner of Police called "Francois" remains a fearless public figure without peer; one who desires to share a message of optimism and hope for the younger officers -- a message from "Francois" -- that the values of courage, dedication and devotion to one's duties as he sees them to be done still count for something in this world of ours. It is any police officer's pride to follow in your shadow. You are quite a man and assuredly history will take due notice of your unprecedented deeds. Thanks for all you did and what you are "Francois," if we can lovingly take the liberty and call you...Francois. Sidebar As Frank looks back on an honorable career in law enforcement that included twenty-four creditable mentions, Pape has decided the time has come to set the record straight on a few matters with Chuck Adamson, a retired Chicago Police sergeant-turned author who is trying to land a publisher for The Toughest Cop in America, Pape's authorized biography. If the book is published, Captain Pape hopes that it will send an important message to younger officers that the values of courage, dedication and devotion to do one's duties as he sees them to be done, still count for something in this world of ours. Frank Pape Speaks Out On Supervisors: "The bosses on the job are only interested in protecting their high position when you get down to it. That seems to be the crux of the police department today -- that the officers do not get the support from supervisors. They're on their own in Chicago. The political officials give lip service to crime. Which of them is backing Commander Burge and his men?" Why He Turned Down a Chance To Become Commissioner in 1960: "My career in the police department has been one where I never got bad publicity and I don't want to be a commissioner of police and get kicked around from one end of the goal post to the other. That's not for me. Because I did my job I was open to criticism. I knew I could be a political liability." On Having the Courage to Fight Back: "Muscle is what counts. Take the muscle away from the policeman and they got nothing left. The crooks got everything. They don't fight according to the Marquis of Queensbury Rules. They fight with everything they got. In order to keep up with them with what they got, you got to fight with everything you got." On Police Shootings and the Crooks That He Killed: "My attitude was if you shoot at me, I'm going to kill you if I can. Of the nine people I shot, every one of them had a gun and in every instance they had used it or were about to use it. I wouldn't take them into custody and I don't give a damn who criticized me for it. When I hear about a police officer shooting some guy and he's got to go to a psychiatrist and all that, I said he don't belong on the job to begin with -- that goes with the job. You have to handle it. It never bothered me for a minute." On Capital Punishment: "There's nothing wrong with capital punishment. The trouble is with the way they administer it. When a guy is sent to death row, they should give him two to three years to exhaust all pleas -- not ten or twenty. How can we say this is any deterrent to crime when they don't carry it out?" On the Panczko Brothers Burglary Gang: "I said to Pops one day, why the hell don't you stop stealing? He said: stealing to me is like breathing to you. Well, one of my squads would go out and pick em up see, and I'd say, you're still around, eh? Well, when you start sticking people up with guns, that's when you better get yourself measured for a coffin." If He Were Chief Today: "Every police officer would have to work at least one year within the detective bureau because the uniformed people in the districts don't know of all the resources available to them from this section of the department. The knowledge they would gain is invaluable. It would enhance the efficiency of the Department objective." On Community Policing: "They talk about taking the public into your confidence. Officer Friendly and all that. There's an old adage that says familiarity breeds contempt. Today, young punks are contemptuous of policemen. They say go ahead and hit me because I'll sue you! Maybe this familiarity this isn't the best thing for police departments. We were the kind of organization that, if you don't know too much about us, you may be scared." The F.B.I. Versus The Chicago Police Department: "A former F.B.I. guy named Ray Driscoll, whom I got to be friendly with, said to me one day: Frank, you know you guys can get by without us, but we can't get by without the local law enforcement people." On How to Deal With Special Interest Protest Groups: "The vociferous minority gets all the attention by the news media and this is wrong. I don't believe in all these demonstrations, picketing and receiving media coverage beyond their numbers and no matter how questionable their cause. What is the purpose of it? The purpose is to intimidate and get publicity far beyond the issue. And they are all aware the tactics work very successfully. There's nobody with guts enough to stand up to them and say get out of my office when they come in with unjust claims." On Stopping Police Corruption: "When I would talk before the Knights of Columbus or some citizen's group, I would say that the trouble with you individual taxpayers is you're paying us a small stipend and we need more to get by so we can take care of our families. Some of you people who sit there think we ought to pick up extra money by shaking down motorists we pull over on a traffic stop. Well that's wrong. Very wrong. Pay us enough to live -- then, if we get out of line, fire us." The Thin Blue Line: "We're the only guys that stand between John Q. Public and the bad guys. I've preached this for years to the various citizen groups I've had the pleasure to talk to . We're your peace time army. I'd say, and we need your support just like you support soldiers in war time. But I wonder, how much they think we can take as individuals?" Return to the Police Relations Web Page |
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