1955.
Quite a while ago. While mulling over whether to join the Air Force or Army, a telegram arrived at the folks home for me. From the City of Detroit. "Thank you for your interest in the Detroit Police Cadet program. You have achieved passing scores and background checks. Please report to work on Monday, August 1, 1955, at the Detroit Police Academy at 555 Clinton."
Wow. I had promised the Army recruiter I'd show up for him that Monday. But this looked like something more exciting and promising for the long-term. So I showed up at 555 Clinton that Monday.
Three days of orientation, then out to the 14th Precinct station at Schaefer and Grand River to learn how to run the call box switchboard and a lot of other lesser things. It was a private telephone system, not connected to Bell in any way. All the police call boxes in each precinct were connected to a switchboard at the local precinct. All officers were required to "make a pull" and check in each hour on designated quarters. The 'pull' in the callbox set off a clockwork telegraph mechanism, and the number of the box was recorded on paper tape at the precinct.
Well, I did that for four years. Then, in 1959, after a 2-year period where the City hired no new police officers, I was accepted into the Police Academy as a sworn police officer. I graduated #1 in my class of 58. Assignment? Second Precinct, Vernor and 20th.
For most of the first three years there, I walked a beat. Michigan, Grand River, Bagley, West Grand Boulevard, Myrtle, Buchanan.....you name it, I was there. And every hour I went to my assigned call box and "made my pull".
They were fond memories. Now zip ahead into nearly thirty years of retirement, and I'm sitting here in Henderson, Nevada, a couple years short of my eighth decade. And I see on a web site where a retired copper in Detroit has an old call box for sale for $400. Shit, I jump at it! He delivers it to an old partner of mine in Farmington, and I tell partner I'll be back this summer to pick it up.
In the meantime, the shit hits the fan, I lose my healthcare from the City due to the bankruptcy, and a hunk of the pension is in doubt. So I arrange to have it FedEx'ed to me at a cost of sixty bucks.
It arrived last week, badly beaten and weathered looking. But being a retired old fart with nothing else to do, I went to work on restoring it. And here's the result, and once again this old guy can "make a pull". First shot is the before/after. Uh....yes....the phone works.
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