About the Author
John H. Tidyman began his writing career in 1974 as a police reporter for the Cleveland Press. He has served as associate editor at Pittsburgher Magazine, columnist at Corporate Cleveland Magazine, and frequent essayist for the Plain Dealer Sunday Magazine; he currently writes for Crain’s Cleveland Business, Inside Business Magazine, Northern Ohio Live, and other publications. He is the author of two books on golf and also provides professional writing services for corporate clients. He and his dog, Harry, work from their office in Fairview Park, Ohio.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Introduction
The short answer to "Why write this book?" is, "Somebody had to do it and I had the time." I had the opportunity to talk with, and listen to, and record the voices of more than five dozen Cleveland police officers. Their personal stories gave me intimate views of the men and women who served as Cleveland police officers during the second half of the twentieth century and first years of the twenty-first. About half the officers in this book are retired and half are on duty. Getting a retired officer to talk was not difficult; Patrolman Emil Cielec, still active in his seventies, introduced me to officers who had retired and the ball rolled. I think they were eager to talk because no one had ever asked, "Will you tell me about your life as a Cleveland police officer?" Getting active duty officers to talk was a different story. They are justifiably wary of anyone with a reporter’s notebook and tape recorder. Far more said no than said yes. I was walking out of the Justice Center one day and approached a couple of patrolmen. When I started my pitch, one said, "Hey, you already tried to get us to talk. The answer is no." My last ditch effort, which failed, was telling them that the book would be about their lives, their careers, their department and their city. I added that there would be no sequel, and if they continued to refuse they would regret it when the book came out. (I should add that that was the first and only time I ever told a police officer what to do. On those rare occasions that I am pulled over, I get scared as hell.) But one young officer with about ten years on the job was working security at the Cleveland Play House one night, and I asked him. He said he would get back to me. A few days later he called and said, "I checked you out. You’re okay. I have a couple of stories for you." He not only had wonderful, funny, current, scary-as-hell and often sickening stories of his work, he introduced me to other active officers. And while more officers still said no instead of yes, those who agreed shared great stories. Cops are fascinating for many reasons, but the one that frightens and mesmerizes me is a statistic cops keep: Killed in Line of Duty. I often asked cops, "When was the first time you were shot at?" No officer was surprised at the question. Each thought for a moment and then started, "The first time? Oh, that was . . ." They die of gunshot wounds suffered in shootouts with criminals, and they die of gunshot wounds suffered in situations that are benign and normal—until a gun appears. On the day an officer dies, he starts out as he always did. Shaving and showering, kissing the kids as they leave for school, talking about the daily events with his wife . . . or maybe arguing with her and screaming at the kids. Maybe still mad at a partner for a real or imagined slight, maybe looking forward to a ball game, maybe planning to look at a new car . . . you get the idea. And before the day is done, the life that was in him when he left that morning has been drained. His body, cooling with every passing hour, lies in the coroner’s office. The chief of police and chaplain then fulfill the duty that never gets easy: They tell the survivors that the officer is dead. Little wonder we can’t understand police officers. They live in a world none of us wants to live in. One of the detectives in this book said he was told as a young officer, "It’s the gun you don’t see that kills you." Another reason for this book is the way politicians, editors and news directors use cops. The streets of Cleveland, racked with poverty, drugs and racism, are more dangerous now than they have ever been, yet the men and women who seek to fight the losing battle against crime and criminals find themselves without allies in city council or in the media. Politicians never ask to go on "ride-alongs," spending a shift with officers on the street. Editors and news directors wouldn’t know the smell of gunpowder or the stickiness of fresh blood. One of many lessons I learned with this book is less than flattering: I would not have made a good police officer. I can’t say exactly what it takes to be a good officer (though one description that comes to mind is "compassionate marksman"). But when you listen to cops talk at length about their job, you realize one thing for certain: it ain’t easy. While this collection of stories will entertain a lot of people, I think it should also serve as a unique Cleveland police journal. I hope it helps many of us better understand the responsibilities we place on the shoulders of our safety officers.
— John H. Tidyman
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
