Pubdate: Thu, 28 May 2009
Source: Calgary Sun, The (CN AB)
Copyright: 2009 The Calgary Sun
Contact:  http://www.calgarysun.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/67
Author: Rick Bell
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/find?188 (Outlaw Bikers)

THIN BLUE LINE A LITTLE LESS THIN

Walking With the Beat Cops Shows How Much They're Needed

When you play with the powerful, you don't win often. But yesterday,
all Calgarians can claim victory.

Four years, that's how long fearless souls -- from a scribbler or two
to citizens sick and tired of the rising tide of scum to the mayor and
some aldermen -- fight to get police boots on the ground, to send the
cavalry to the streets, to play the stupid game of hug-a-thug no longer.

Yesterday and it's pinch yourself time and the beat patrols roll
out.

The defeatists will say this is not the ultimate solution, individuals
so thick they don't understand there is no ultimate solution to
anything. There are people who decide to do what's right and do the
best they can do even if they're crapped on and second-guessed for
doing it.

Our side is in place. Const. Steve Feeney is on the street, walking
the beat in the Bravo 150 team, covering mostly the Beltline and
Mission areas from 4 St. S.W. to 14 St. S.W., including 17 Ave. and up
4 St. and down to 12 Ave.

Const. Steve is from the United Kingdom, like almost half the beat
officers. He worked more than five years in Leicester and started in
District 6 at the end of 2008. He's a friendly guy who says Calgarians
are a lot nicer than back in the U.K., more laid back and "a lot more
polite." There also aren't all the young people standing on street
corners looking for a bit of bother. Const. Steve is learning all he
can about his new digs.

Const. Greg Pisesky, originally from Edmonton and 21 years with the
city police also comes from District 6. He was in the army with the
Princess Pats and, though he doesn't draw attention to it, he wears
what sure look like jump wings. He strikes this columnist as a real
pro, a cop who gets it and explains his job is to enforce the law and
protect citizens while also helping people on the street if they need
it and want it.

Then there's Sgt. Bob McLeod. Sgt. Bob hails from the Hat and, when he
greets folks, he says: "Hi, my name's Bob." He's been on the job 27
years and could've retired but Bob doesn't act anywhere near
retirement. He talks to anybody and will go up to anybody. He says he
has found he can talk his way out of almost any tough spot and he
probably can.

He worked the downtown streets 13 years, in the days when the action
was on the east side, down on 7 Ave. and 8 Ave., around the old York,
the old Calgarian, the Beveridge Block and by the Bay.

Bob admits he got in hot water years ago for sending the Hells Angels
a Peace on Earth Christmas card and, while on vacation, mailing them a
signed postcard with a picture of members of the police TAC Team and
police dogs. The message: "Miss your smiling faces. I'll be back next
week."

The bikers complained.

Anyway, we're off and sure enough we come to a tattoo parlour on
Macleod Tr.

"Let's go in," says Sgt. Bob. We do. And sure enough a fellow named
Jay is inside, wearing his Hells Angels colours and Sgt. Bob and Jay
talk like neighbours over the fence. Sgt. Bob says he's now in this
neighbourhood. The taxpayers save on a stamp for another card.

"We've got a long standing relationship," says Sgt. Bob, as we walk
on.

First thing we notice is how many people smile and say hello and say
thank you. This is not PR. This is real.

The police check out Cash Corner and the nearby stroll of working
girls. They talk about how being on the street you get the
intelligence on the ground, you get to know folks and they talk. They
want to talk.

You see the sketchy characters showing up again and again in all the
wrong places. Like the mountain bike cops, the patrols on the beat can
come face to face real easy with the idiots who tend to try to scurry
out of view when the uniforms are in sight.

We go by 1 St. S.W., once quite the rowdy bar strip. The beat cops
will go into the bars where, in 20 seconds or less, they can get the
feel of what's right and what's not.

Elsewhere, there's the drug dealers who will drive to you. There's the
homeless who back the cops and fear the parasites in their midst.

Speaking of parasites, of the more than 100 street-level criminals
recently busted, 76 are still behind bars.

A pizza joint with three pay phones outside and reports of plenty of
traffic is noted for a check. Const. Steve spots a woman passed out
spread-eagled on 14 Ave. and 4 St.

The constables wake her and she's on crack and doesn't want off. She
has three warrants and is read her rights. She is on her way downtown,
but before she goes she thanks the uniforms.

We walk. Sgt. Bob is right at home, talking about the days in the old
downtown and running into people who have straightened out.

"It's the most rewarding job I ever had."

Up 4 St. to 17 Ave. and the street is busy. A sign at the legendary
Bob the Fish bar welcomes Sgt. Bob and Bravo 150. Andie, well-known in
the area and a vendor for the Street Talk newspaper, tells the trio of
pushy panhandlers scaring people.

A dude tries to park his vehicle on the sidewalk and is told it's a
no-go. On the other side of the street, The Ship and Anchor is packed
with English fans gargling down pints lamenting a big soccer win by
the Spanish team from Barcelona. The cops are welcomed, especially
Const. Steve, the Englishman.

"If you see a Barcelona fan, arrest them," says one lagered-up
Brit.

A hint of weed is in the air. A fellow slithers away and is questioned
but not detained. People provide information of this, that and the
other. Hope the police have a budget for notebooks.

At the Delta 9 hemp store they want help keeping out the high
schoolers trying to get into their 18-and-over establishment. There is
a stop at Divine with its funky clothing where they ask if they're in
trouble.

At Rubaiyat, they had to put bars in front of their beautiful store
because Red Mile rowdies caused mayhem back in '04. They are pleased
with the police presence.

An old vet wants to say his piece. And no first walkabout is complete
without looking at the city public toilet, the crack shack, where the
doors stay locked for 10 minutes allowing all kinds of fun and games.
This time, no crack pipe, only a guy's underwear.

More thanks. At a strip mall, the owner of the liquor store comes out
to put in a word while we run into a kid from the biker tattoo
parlour. Sgt. Bob pulls him aside.

"I worry about guys like him getting in over their heads," he
says.

This day, the politicians do their bit. Premier Ed throws in coin for
these cops and needs to throw in more dough. As he answers questions,
a siren wails.

Mayor Bronco demands dollars from the province for 87 additional
officers.

"We are not finished," he says. No, we aren't. We'll finish with Sgt.
Bob.

"I thought I'd retire close to home. But now I'm really looking
forward to this."

So are we. 
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MAP posted-by: Richard Lake