Most cops we know like to hear war stories. What we hear nowadays aren't truly "war stories" in the traditional sense of the word, probably because the Department is actually a very young Department at the moment. And probably because we're on the verge of becoming the dinosaurs we used to snicker about years ago. But it was a good-hearted snickering back then, in the finest traditions of ball-busting and such. And when we'd go out to the bars, there would always be an old-timer or two sitting on a well-worn stool in the corner, drinking a tad too much and shooting the breeze, remembering years and coppers and bosses gone by. We knew many of these guys from the stories our father used to tell (the clean versions) and some of the names they talked about weren't unfamiliar to us.
We mentioned this website a number of months ago and we recall hoping that it would turn into something bigger than it was, because we miss those old stories, those old-timers, those good times (we certainly aren't going to call them "innocent times.") We're mentioning it again because we went back and the archives are slowly getting bigger and the stories are exactly as we remember.
We mentioned this website a number of months ago and we recall hoping that it would turn into something bigger than it was, because we miss those old stories, those old-timers, those good times (we certainly aren't going to call them "innocent times.") We're mentioning it again because we went back and the archives are slowly getting bigger and the stories are exactly as we remember.
Any old-timer thinking of memorializing their careers could get some good ideas from this blog. Any aspiring authors could pick up a lot of good hints from Jim Padar's writing. And anyone who remembers the old warhorses telling stories over a shot-and-a-beer at the tavern across the street might recall an era that is slowly fading from memory.