Broadcast

Practically the only people awake in suburban Millburn, N. J. one night last week were policemen cruising around to keep the nocturnal peace and two bored men on desk duty at headquarters, who sat with drooping ears to hear occasional reports from the patrol cars. It was the small hour of 2:30 a. m.

A low voice (the sleepy headquarters men recognized it as Patrolman Philip G. Pierman Jr.'s) began coming in over the short wave. What made the listeners sit up and take notice was, mingling with it, the voice of a woman. Obviously Pierman was in his patrol car, but obviously he was investigating no housebreaker, collaring no stray dog. Headquarters listened with all their ears, unable, if they wanted, to crowd into the tete-`a-tete.

Two days later, Police Chief C. Norbert Wade reported with a straight face to the Township Committee. Patrolman Pierman, said the chief, had strayed from duty. The woman he had in his car while parked in a quiet spot was one who "neither required information, nor was aged, infirm, blind, suddenly taken ill, injured, or otherwise temporarily unable to care for herself." Moreover, he had made a broadcast "not in the line of duty or relating to public, police or safety matters." Patrolman Pierman opened himself altogether to five official charges when he forgot to turn off the switch on his two-way radio. Patrolman Pierman is married.

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