Motorcycle Officer Smith was 36 years old. Growing up in the area around Detroit Texas, he remembered at age 13 hearing his father coming home and saying that the known suspect named “Potts” who had killed Dallas Police Mounted Officer T.A. Tedford, on July 26, 1912, had himself been killed by a posse at Detroit that day. This was after Potts had also killed Red River County Sheriff Steven’s by a shot to the head. Smith had known the Steven’s boys, and the whole county mourned the loss of the popular lawman. The Sheriff’s sons were never the same after that, they withdrew into their family unit and eventually moved away.
Smith had decided that day, that he wanted to be a big city police officer. Now here I am he thought, sitting on a brand new Harley-Davidson Flathead VL. He was sitting on his mount in front of 106 S.Harwood Street, the police and courts building, while newspaper photographers were taking pictures of the new radio equipped Harley’s. There were five officers on the new bikes being photographed, the City making a big to do about being ready for the 1936 Texas Exposition at Fair Park with these machines.
The City had just taken delivery of the five police silver “receiver only” bikes. Even though the motor officer could only hear the radioman at the station, it was a leap in technology that he could actually receive calls, and then use a telephone to call in and report that he had received the call. The low bid radios had their problems and were considered fragile. With Harley-Davidson having no rear suspension, tubes and other parts would constantly break. The bad part was you never knew it was broken, until some other officer yelled at you that you were about to be chewed out by a sergeant for not listening to the broken radio!
Smith had reluctantly given up his trusty ’29 Harley to get this bike. The old Harley leaked oil like a sieve, which was typical with the engines cork gaskets, but started every time, and always brought him home.
Now that the photogs got all their pictures, it was time for him and his partner to begin their patrol duties in an area which included Deep Ellum and Central Track. Deep Ellum, is a phonetic spelling for a colloquial pronunciation of “Deep Elm” by African-Americans, Eastern European Jews, or both. The two different cultures did business here, and lived in the neighborhoods nearby. And since this was the far eastern end of Elm Street, hence the “Deep” designation.
Smith kicked started his new Harley, and roared off from downtown east on Elm Street in search of bad guys. Deep Ellum was a dumping ground for police officers assigned to mounted units, horse and motorcycle, as well as foot patrolman. He knew that the outburst towards a station sergeant two months ago had put him here, for how long he didn’t know. He left a good gig up by Love Field, for this. At least he got to keep his motorcycle. He did not envy the foot patrolman who had the walking beat from Deep Ellum, all the way north on the Central Track railroad tracks towards Hall and Thomas Streets, Old North Dallas. Searing heat or biting cold, they walked. It was an area of pimps, prostitutes, dive bars on either side of the railroad tracks, and nightly killings where a body would be pulled out of the bar, and pushed and stuffed under a nearby car parked at the curb.
Smith also knew the hazards of riding a police bike in Dallas. Officer Dexter Phillips had been killed when his motorcycle hit a pot hole on Travis Street in 1923. A few months before, an attempt had been made on Phillip’s life, when he hit a rope that had been stretched across the street. He had been severely injured when his neck hit the rope and he had been thrown off his mount. Strangely, freshly burned shotgun shells were found at the scene of the accident on Travis Street. They never did figure that one out. Bad luck some officers said. Others said somebody had it in for him for sure.
Continued next month.
Cycle Tracks Will Abound In Utopia. H.G.Wells
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