Ike's Jacket

Back in 1979, I was just clearing briefing and getting ready to head out of the station to began my graveyard shift. I stopped to chat with Captain Roy Lindell and a couple of other cops. Captain Lindell always worked graveyard shift as Assistant Chief.

A mid 20ish man came into the lobby and interjected into our conversation. It was clear from his demeanor and odor that he had been drinking alcoholic beverages. The man told us his wife was at "The Alley", a local bar, and would not come home. He demanded we go and fetch her.

I explained clearly and slowly this activity was out of our jurisdiction and that he should probably leave. The man began to get more abusive and began to "get up in my face". I glanced over to Captain Lindell and noted that he had reached up and had grasped the lapels of his Ike jacket with both hands. I had learned, from past experience, the posture was one Captain Lindell took when dealing with "the public". His fingers were still, however, so I knew that action on the Captain's part was not imminent.

The man escalated his behavior and I had to palm heel strike him in the chest to get him out of my officer safety space. I again glanced over at Captain Lindell and noted that he had begun to move his fingers as if "drumming" them on his chest. From my past experience, I knew might want to get out of the way.

Finally, the drunk man looked at Captain Lindell and took a wide looping swing with his fist and arm at the Captain's head. Captain Lindell easily stepped inside the swing, and quick as lightning his fist came from his chest. The large fist struck the man on the point of his chin and came back to rest grasping the same Ike jacket lapel. I had to blink and wonder if I really saw the motion it was so fast and compact.

The man flew backwards and I caught him before he hit the ground too hard. The penny loafers he was wearing on his feet flew across the room as if they were smart enough to run although their owner was not.

Captain Lindell growled a direction to take "the mook" out on the front lawn of the station until he regained consciousness. I checked on the guy about fifteen minutes later and he was gone.

So to recap: Hands motionless on lapels - get ready, fingers moving - get set, then get the heck out of the way. Police work was so simple in those days.

Sigh....