Small Town Cops

Citizens felt safe in Breckenridge in the 1940s and 1950s.  The town had three policemen (no women in those days), a chief of police, and one patrol car.  I believe the chief also had a car. There was a designated parking space for the car at the intersection of Walker Street and Breckenridge Avenue.  The space was on the west side of Breckenridge Ave. beside C.R. Anthony department store.  It was across the street from the Sager Hotel. There was not a dispatcher.  There was a box mounted on a telephone pole with a telephone inside.  When not patrolling, the car parked beside the pole and waited for the phone to ring.  At the end of a shift, the policeman on duty filled the car with gas, did any other maintenance needed, and took the car to the city yard.  The shift changed, and a new cycle began.

One policeman seemed to enjoy harassing the teenagers.  Ken and some of his friends had Model A cars.  Several boys were in his friend D.B.’s car during high school lunch break.  The policeman stopped them and said they were speeding, going 40mph.  Ken was in the front seat, and said, “This old thing wouldn’t go 40 miles per hour being pulled on a trailer.”  D.B. turned his head toward Ken.  The policeman thought D.B. was the one “popping off” his mouth.  When D.B. looked back at the policeman, he got a stern lecture on talking back to the police and being disrespectful.

In those days mischief was not mean or hurtful.  A few boys divided the town into areas.  One boy would set off firecrackers on one side of town.  Someone would usually call in about the noise.  The policeman would go check it out.  By this time, the boy was  home. Another boy would wait for a period of time and set of firecrackers in his area.  The patrolman would be off to check that area.  Ken’s area was the west side of town. He would set off his firecrackers, drive the few blocks home, and go to bed.  None of them were caught.

One night Ken was standing on the overhang of the Palace Theatre changing the marquee. He heard a commotion below him.  He looked down to see a young policeman, new to the force, trying to handcuff a drunken man.  The drunk told the cop he would go with him to jail, but he would not be handcuffed.   The scuffle got to the edge of the curb and the drunk took a swing at the cop.  They ended up rolling around in the gutter at the edge of the street.  A shadow appeared. Police chief Ollie Jackson approached.  He called out, “xx get off him.”  The drunk scrambled up letting the cop up. Ollie told the policeman, “Just go on home.  Meet me in my office in the morning.”  He looked at the drunk, said, “Come on xx,” and started walking toward the jail.  Ollie was a large man and took long strides.  The drunk was short and had a pegleg.  Kenneth watched in amusement as the shorter man almost ran to keep up with Ollie, his pegleg tap, tap, tapping on the sidewalk.

A teen activity was “making the drag.”  This involved driving the main street (Walker Street)  from one side of town to the other.  Ken’s older brother was making the drag. He was waiting for the light change at Walker Street and Breckenridge Ave. when a friend pulled up beside him.  They decided to race to the hilltop at the east side of town.  The cars had standard shifts.  His friend took off, started to shift from first to second gear, and in haste hit reverse instead of second.  The transmission locked. There he sat.  There were no tow trucks in town then.  There was nothing to do but leave the car where it was. This was in 1947.  The car was safe there overnight.  The next morning, the boys got another transmission from a local junk yard.  They changed the transmission in the middle of main street and went on with the day’s activities.

Ken was not so lucky.  Main Street was also US highway 180.  East of town there was a Y.  Highway 180 went to the right and on to Mineral Wells. The highway on the other side went to Graham.  A store was located between the two highways.  Ken made the drag one night and pulled into the parking lot of Baccus Grocery at the top of the hill on the east side of town. He was driving his Dad’s 1946 Buick.  A policeman pulled up beside him.  The patrol car was a new 1948 Plymouth.  They were talking when the policeman asked, “How is that old Buick running?”  Kenneth told him it would outrun the Plymouth any day.  The challenge was on.  There was no traffic to be seen.  They agreed to race to the Y.  They got to the Y about the same time, sat and talked for a while, and the policeman said, “Well,I had better get back to the telephone.”  They drove leisurely back to town.

Ken went home, walked into the house, and there sat his angry Dad waiting up for him.  Someone had called and told him that Ken had tried to outrun the policeman.  Ken knew there was no trying to explain to his Dad. His Dad would not have listened.  Ken took his punishment and said nothing. News traveled fast in Breckenridge.