The Choirboys by Joseph Wambaugh

Author:Joseph Wambaugh [Wambaugh, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Crime
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2008-11-26T05:00:00+00:00

TEN

7-A-29: SAM NILES AND

HAROLD BLOOMGUARD

Lieutenant Finque had a splitting migraine at rollcall on the night Sam Niles and Harold Bloomguard met the Moaning Man and called for choir practice.

The migraine was brought about by his defense of the Police Protective League, the bargaining agent manned by Los Angeles police officers for the department.

“How the fuck can the Protective League do anything for us?” Spermwhale demanded. “As long as brass’re members of the league. Don’t you see, the league gotta be more like a real union. It’s management against labor. You people are management. Only the policeman rank and maybe sergeants should be in the league. The rest of the brass are the enemy, for chrissake!”

“That’s not true!” Lieutenant Finque said. “The commanders and the deputy chiefs are just as much police officers as…”

“My ass, Lieutenant!” Spermwhale roared. “When did you last hear of a deputy chief gettin TB or a hernia or whiplash or pneumonia or shot or beat up or stabbed? Only cop’s disease they ever get is heart trouble and that’s not cause they have to jump outta radio cars and run down or fight some fuckin animal who wants to make garbage outta them, it’s cause they eat and drink so much at all those sex orgies where they think up ways to fuck and rape the troops!”

“How many deputy chiefs or commanders ever get suicidal?” Baxter Slate asked suddenly, and for a moment the room was quiet as each man thought of that most dangerous of policemen’s diseases.

“Yeah, it’s usually the workin cop who eats his gun,” Spermwhale said as he unconsciously thought of at least ten men he had served with who had done it.

“I’d hate to be a member of this department if we ever go from the Protective League to a labor union,” Lieutenant Finque solemnly announced with the consuming hatred and distrust of labor unions that was prevalent in those police officers who had sprung from the middle class and whose only collective bargaining experiences had been as Establishment representatives facing angry sign wavers on picket lines.

“Protective League my ass!” Spermwhale Whalen said. “They take our dues and wine and dine politicians while I eat okra and gumbo at Fat Ass Charlie’s Soul Kitchen.”

“I thought you like eatin like a home boy Spermwhale,” Calvin Potts grinned.

“We gotta sue the fuckin city for nearly every raise we get,” Spermwhale continued. “I’m sick a payin dues to the Protective League. I get more protection from a two year old box a rubbers!”

“Anyone for changing the subject?” Sergeant Nick Yanov suggested, as the lieutenant held his throbbing head and vowed to check Spermwhale Whalen’s personnel package to see how many more months he had to go before retirement. And to ask the captain if there weren’t a place they could transfer him until then. Like West Valley Station which was twenty-five miles away.

Lieutenant Finque’s eyes were starting to get as red and glassy as Roscoe Rules’ always were. Of late the lieutenant always had drops

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