A Simple Lesson: Veteran Cop Shares His Wisdom

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On December 15^th, 1989, I graduated from the NewYork City Police Academy. As a member of the now-defunct New York City HousingAuthority Police Department, I was assigned to Police Service Area #6 (P.S.A.6) in the confines of the 32^nd precinct in Harlem. My field trainingofficer was a man named Joe Brown. Joe was a twenty-year veteran and along-time field training officer who took his duties seriously. We were gatheredin a classroom in the community center of the Drew Hamilton Houses on 143^rdStreet near the PSA for in service training. Joe was the first of the fieldtraining officers to address us. He stood in the front of the room and eyed allof us young rookies with a serious stare.
“Let me start by saying that the only people who areimpressed that you’re a cop are your parents,” he said. “The way you’re goingto get respect and earn the trust of the people in the community is by treatingthe folks you meet the way you’d want another cop to treat your mother. If acop pulled over your mom and talked to her rudely, you’d chew his head off.”Joe paused and observed us. “If someone stops you on the street, talk to them.Help an old woman with her packages. Hold the door for the person behind you.Be nice and don’t act like you’re someone special. You need to give respect to getrespect, and if you run around thinking you’re Dirty Harry, you’re going to getkilled.”
After our lesson in the community room, we went on patrol. Iwas stationed on a foot post at the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 125^thStreet. Being from Long Island, I was unused tothe hustle and bustle of the city, yet I had an appreciation for theneighborhood I was assigned to protect. A gentleman in his forties approachedme and asked me if I was new. The grin on his face indicated that he knew theanswer. I told him I was in field training, and he said that he could tellbecause I was a “new jacket.” The man referred to my brand new duty jacket withthe clean patches and my shiny, new shield pinned to my chest.
We spoke for several minutes. After exchanging pleasantries,he said goodbye and walked away. Days later, I was given the same post. Inoticed a limousine parked at the curb not too far ahead of me. The limo driveropened the rear door and a man in a tuxedo stepped out. He paused, turnedaround, and took the hand of a beautiful woman wearing a fur coat. The man inthe tuxedo saw me and called out, “Hello Officer, remember me?” I approachedhim and tried to play it off as though I knew exactly who he was.
“You don’t remember me do you? That’s okay, I wasn’t wearingthis.” The man pointed to his attire and smiled wide. It dawned on me that hewas the gentleman I spoke to a few nights before. We shook hands and heintroduced me to his wife and then turned his attention back to me.
“I’m glad you’re here in this neighborhood, officer. We needyoung cops like you who are polite and willing to do the job. I’m a doctor. Igrew up in this building here, and tonight, I took my lovely wife to a Broadwayshow. I feel safer knowing that you’re around when I come home each night.”
When we parted ways, I was impressed that a manof his stature appreciated the presence of motivated police officers in hisneighborhood. If I had been aloof or dismissive during our first encounter, Inot only would have missed out on meeting a remarkable person, but I would havelessened his confidence in the police. 
Throughout my career, I treated citizens with dignity and respect.I was impatient with officers who would no adhere to the basic rule of “do untoothers,” and I passed on this insight to rookies who came on the job after me. JoeBrown’s wisdom was proof that courtesy and respect are crucial for police to winthe public trust.
After field training, the officers in my unit and ourinstructors gathered at a local watering hole. Joe was uncharacteristicallybright and cheery. He hugged each of us and wished us all long and healthy careers.It was on that night Joe announced his retirement. We were the last class ofrookies he would ever train. The job would soon be in his past, and it would beour duty to carry on where he left off. Six months later, the sad news came. OfficerJoe Brown had died. Each day on patrol, I recalled Joe and his simple, yet valuablelesson. I’d like to think I made him proud.
About theAuthor: Michael J. Kannengieser is the author of the police thriller, The Daddy Rock. He is aretired New York City police officer who lives on Long Island with his wife andtwo children. Michael worked as the Managing Editor for Fiction at The Viewfrom Here magazine, a U.K. based literary publication. Currently, he isemployed at a performing arts college as an Instructional TechnologyAdministrator. He has been published at The View from Here, and in Newsday, aLong Island newspaper. Michael speaks as a guest lecturer on campus. Click Here to buy a copy ofMichael J. Kannengieser's new novel "The Daddy Rock."