Rent-A-Cop

Most small towns have an auxiliary police force particularly during whatever may be their high season. My encounters with these were paramount during my band day’s experiences but held forth beyond those halcyon days. My memory of these is of feckless youths barely out of high school attempting to stand tall in their respective communities, most with little or no success. There is a small beach town in southeastern Maine that employed a large contingent of these primping youngsters each summer in an attempt to give an appearance of the establishment of some semblance of order during the hectic months of the vacation season.

For our part, after several successful seasons at a club in this tiny town, the club owner had an ongoing agreement with his bank that held if he had our group scheduled for at least three weeks during the course of the summer the bank would uphold his line of equity. The bank in turn agreed to use their influence with the local police to keep the junior constables at bay. This proved necessary on only one occasion I can remember.

Our group habitually attracted a large troop from the nearby city of Boston, our home base. This particular night, after an especially successful performance, these followers assembled outside the club and proceeded to encourage one of their friends to mount a nearby balcony. This lad was more than slightly inebriated so when he staggered to the balcony rail, the crowd erupted with chants of, “Duce, Duce!” accompanied by the fascist one-arm salute.

Onto this chaotic scene, strode our boy wonders. After several attempts to restore order, the regular police ascertained the friendly relationship the miscreant had with our entourage and encouraged the secondary officers to back off. These reluctantly did so and soon the assembled reestablished order without authoritative assistance, surprisingly enough. Others in our group led the offending party to safer shores and eventually preserved the public safety. After a brief discussion with the local forces, we agreed to keep our followers in tow while they agreed to curb the cub scouts; this was an arrangement that proved equitable to all concerned.

Long after my band days were over, I had an opportunity to observe another deputation of these seasonal sentries. This occurred in Marin County, of northern California. The occasion was the Fourth of July. Each year on this holiday, the town held a large festival with a music stage offering several musical performances. This one year, the town hired some adjutant officers and they were strutting around the festival grounds in a less than unassuming manner. A large group had assembled in front of the stage and things quickly rose to a raucous crescendo

Instead of attempting to massage the crowd at the edges, these hired hands instead chose to force their way into the center of the throng, brandishing their long batons like Moses parting the Red Sea with his shepherd staff. The festive crowd dutifully parted before their aggressive posturing and just as quickly closed behind them. When they reached the stage, they turned about to discover their blocked-in predicament.

These junior G-men continued their asinine juvenility until one after another the boisterous crowd knocked them to the ground, not purposely but specifically because of the faux-praetorians over-zealous behavior. To the crowd’s credit, no one indulged in any more callous conduct. To be sure, these lads were decidedly at the mercy of what could have been a serious beat-down if the other raucous youths at the forefront of the action decided to put the boots to these vulnerable youngsters. In the end, cooler heads prevailed and the eager beavers lived to see another day.

© Stephen Alexander 2009