Chicago Chief's Automobile Ran Amuck

1910

CHICAGO. — An exhibition that appeared to be a cross between an imitation of a bucking broncho and a runaway train was given by Assistant Chief of Police Schuettler's red touring car in front of the temporary city hall on Randolph street one morning a few days ago.

While John Upton, chauffeur, was cranking the machine he was surprised to see it start backward. He made a wild dash for the brake, but the auto got away from him. It swept backward at increasing speed, crashed into a Milwaukee avenue car, swung completely around, and, heading west, went over the curbstone and knocked down several signs. It was heading for the basement door of a building at 211 Randolph street, but suddenly changed its mind and plunged off down the street.

"Upton chased the runaway to Franklin street, where he succeeded in getting control of the brakes. His victory was applauded loudly by a crowd of pedestrians who had fled to places of safety in near-by stores when the auto headed down the street.

Chauffeur Upton doesn't think the auto itself is to be blamed for "running amuck." In a written report to the assistant chief, Upton gives it as his professional opinion that while he was cranking the machine, somebody released the brakes and gave her full speed backward, just to see what would happen.

Upton had driven the assistant chief from his home, 3453 Bosworth avenue, to the temporary city hall. The auto was stopped on the south side of the street, heading east. The engine had "gone dead," and after Mr. Schuettler had stepped out the chauffeur started the cranking process. Then the excitement began.

In the early part of its surprising career the auto was chased by Chauffeur Upton, Sergt. Denman, Patrolman Quirk and a dozen pedestrians. When the machine buckled the curb and described an arc back into the street, the pedestrians concluded that they had had enough and fled for shelter. Upton and the bluecoats ran around in circles for a few moments, and then the bluecoats, too, turned the responsibility over to Upton and left the scene with much enthusiasm.

One Policeman Who Couldn't Get Fat

1910

ST. LOUIS. — Dismissed from the police force because he was too thin to present a formidable appearance to offending humanity, John Higgins, although not one whit larger in circumference and just as tall as he ever was, has been restored to his job.

It was merely a question of the police board coming around to Higgins' viewpoint.

In the Dayton street district Higgins had a record which his superior officers declared any policeman should be proud of. He never shirked; was always on his beat; was a terror to evildoers, and loved police work as few patrolmen of St. Louis love it.

But the police surgeons didn't see it that way when Higgins came before them for examination. They cast a withering eye upon him, looked at each other and shook their heads.

Higgins was fired.

Not enough weight to so great an altitude was the verdict of the surgeons.

Encouraged by the plaudits of his superior police officers, Higgins went away to get fat. He ate often and abundantly, planning in a short time to return to the exacting doctor, and present a girth which any St. Louis patrolman might carry with pride.

After weeks of experiment, Higgins, feeling puffy, weighed himself. The scales registered the same number of pounds the surgeons had frowned upon. There was nothing to do but eat more, and Higgins ate.

But Higgins couldn't get fat. He told the Dayton street officers he just couldn't. They shared his sorrows, but shook their heads ominously. The same doctors who fired him for being too thin and too tall for such thinness would, they declared, keep him off the force now that it seemed he would never get fatter.

Determined to make A last deliberate effort to regain his position and resume his beloved work, Higgins knocked again at the door of the police department, The door didn't have to open wide for him to get in, he was so thin. All he wanted was just a little crack to squeeze through.

The board took cognizance of Higgins' thinness and of his inability to get fat. They said they thought he had been punished enough for being lean, particularly as he couldn't help it. There was evidently no malice aforethought in his attitude, they said.

Higgins was restored to his job. They said any man who worked that hard eating to get fat, would work hard at his duties as a police officer.

Faithful Dog Avenges a Policeman

1910

NEW YORK. — Patrolman Lawrence Cummins of the East One Hundred and Fourth street police station, on whose post the car barn gang has its headquarters, was beaten savagely by members of that band and was in the hospital for several weeks.

The first request Cummins made to Capt. Corcoran when he reported again for duty was to be assigned to his old post. He said he wanted to show the toughs that he was not afraid of them and that they could not drive a policeman from his place of duty. Capt. Corcoran took the same view and sent Cummins back.

From the moment he resumed his work the gang annoyed Cummins, hut it was not until the other night that the roughs got a chance to "do him up" again. He found about a dozen of them on the street insulting women who passed.

"Move on," commanded Cummins. But a truck driver, 19 years old, hurled insults at the policeman. Cummins arrested him. The rest of the gang disappeared, Cummins started for the police station with his prisoner, but as they went along there was a call from a roof. The prisoner broke from Cummins and ran into a house. The gang had gone to a roof, torn away the chimney and waited for the policeman and his prisoner. When the signal was given and the prisoner had fled from the firing zone his friends hurled the chimney bricks down at Cummins. After three had struck him on the head he fell unconscious. Men who saw the attack ran to the station. Sgt. Higgins and eight bluecoats raced to the rescue of their comrade.

Twice a week a Dalmatian dog, Bessie, who belongs to truck company No. 26 on One Hundred and Fourteenth street, visits the East One Hundred and Fourth street station, and has a supper at the expense of John Ritter. That night she was there and she went with the rescue squad.

When the men entered the house from which the bricks had been hurled on Cummins the dog went with them. But while the sergeant and his men went to the roof Bessie stopped at the second floor.

Back in a dark corner of the tenement hallway she had caught sight of a man, and, instead of going further, she leaped for him. She got a good grip on his trousers and he could not beat her off. Five minutes afterward the policemen on their way back to the street after a fruitless search, heard a scuffle. They found Bessie still holding on to the man. He was the escaped prisoner.