Continued from last issue; Motorcycle Officer Smith rode along Elm Street trying not to get his tires caught up in the treacherous streetcar tracks. Since 1909 when Dallas bought their first Harley-Davidson’s for police use, there had been several deaths on police bikes. So many that the City had thought several times to eliminate the motorcycle corps. Almost as many officers had been killed by motorcycle accidents as from gunshot wounds from bad guys. Training had always been the key in keeping deaths and injuries from reaching epidemic proportions. Automobiles were considered too expensive for general police work. Motorcycle officers answered calls for service in 1936, and because they were on two wheels, several times a day they had to call paddy wagons to haul prisoners to jail. So the city fathers saw the occasional injury or death of a motorcycle officer as the price for doing business in the City of Dallas. Sad but true.
Smith gingerly avoided the streetcar tracks, as well as numerous potholes along the street. Deep Ellum, like West Dallas, not yet annexed by the City, was kind of a dumping ground for all sorts of people, places and things, it was the last area to get the newest and best the City could offer, but the hard working folks made it work, and ignored the sense that theirs was an armpit of Dallas.
Passing such hotspots such as The Gypsy Tea Room and The Harlem Theater, Smith noticed the usual suspects hanging around out front being the “good eyes” for whatever illegal things might be going on in the darkened alleyways nearby. Smith and his partner knew of the gambling and afternoon prostitution that attracted businessmen from downtown. Sometimes these men were found out, and they were the ones who would fight the hardest, as they saw their careers and family life going south if arrested.
He knew some if not all of the characters that frequented the bars and blues clubs. Yes, he felt the eyes from the sidewalks following the two officers on Harleys who waited for them to pass before the signal could be given that the coast was clear, until the officers made the block, and it started all over.
There were also the honest businessmen who worked long hours in the barber shops, clothing stores and the cafes. Smith felt especially protective of them. Many lived upstairs over their shops with their families. Then of course there were the pawn shops owners, many walked a fine line so to speak, but they were tolerated for the most part.
Smith used his left hand to shift as he played with the foot clutch of his new VL, a low compression Harley that was perfect for slow cruising. He had to stop several times to adjust the volume of his radio. It was either too soft or too loud. Soft? Smith and his partner stopped and put down their kick stands, got off and inspected the new radio. It wasn’t working at all! Smith took off the radio cover and as instructed, inspected the tubes. Sure enough the rough streets had already done a number on the new radio. He had a spare, and as a crowd of curious Deep Ellumites looked on, Smith installed it and mounted up.
As he accelerated, Smith noticed that he was at Elm and Central Track. This was the only area of Dallas that in 1936 mandated that two officers would patrol together. There was West Dallas, but for the most part the Sherriff’s patrolled that lawless area, home of the now dead bandits Bonnie and Clyde, until the fight was on and help was called usually from DPD officers who only then would cross the city limits into West Dallas.
This intersection of Elm and Central Track bordered the railroad tracks that led to old North Dallas, basically Hall and Thomas streets. There were bars, gambling joints and the Park Theater where some of the best blues musicians such as Blind Lemon Jefferson played and sang. But this area had very few of the honest businessman that occupied much of the real estate in Deep Ellum proper. This was an area where life was cheap; killings were common and seldom solved. Smith had once seen the body of a woman who had recently been killed since the body was still warm when found. She had been stabbed, and then rolled under a sedan that was parked at the curb. It was a busy Saturday night and people walked by not paying particular attention to the latest victim of Central Track. Aside; little did Smith know that later, this area was razed and elevated I-45 was built over the tracks, and that Hall and Thomas would eventually become a high end neighborhood. For now, the killings continued.
No comments:
Post a Comment