Shortage of Blue

They grinned benignly and waggled their fingers in V signs. They huddled on chilly streets outside precinct houses and chanted defiant slogans. They violated state law, ignored a court injunction, rejected the appeals of their union leaders and assailed the mayor. They were New York City cops, taking part last week in the nation's biggest police walkout since the Boston strike of 1919.

The specter of a police force on strike in the nation's largest city, with its serious crime problem, was both frightening and bizarre. But New York is inured to such crises. The policemen, who walked out in a dispute over back pay, called it a "job action" because strikes by public employees are illegal and the police are expected to uphold the law, if anyone is. Yet fully 75% of the city's 27,400 rank-and-file patrolmen refused to perform any patrolling duties. Some were willing to respond to emergency calls; others did not report for work at all. Those who did report turned up mostly in civilian clothes. A few disgusted superiors chased them out of the precinct stations, accusing them of "loitering."

Stoic Citizens. The sudden shortage of blue scared many New Yorkers, who were even more reluctant than usual to walk the streets after dark. Small shopkeepers feared an outbreak of robberies. Many firms, including Tiffany's, Wells Fargo and a number of banks, hired extra guards or took more secretive precautions. Still, in their stoic manner, most New Yorkers tried to ignore it all. Said one Manhattanite: "I never have any cause to call the police anyway."

While foot patrolmen virtually disappeared throughout the city, enough trainees, detectives, sergeants and superior officers were available to man many patrol cars and communications facilities. As a result, most real emergencies were met. That meant twelve-hour shifts, with days off canceled, for those who worked--and they clearly could not keep up that pace indefinitely. At one precinct, the security staff consisted of a police chemist, a fingerprint expert and a personnel supervisor. Calls for help to get cats out of trees or stop neighbors from bickering were ignored. The daily arrest rate fell by roughly half, but no sharp rise in crimes was reported in the strike's first 48 hours.

Stunned Officials. Though the strike was an extreme tactic, the patrolmen had a point in their impatience at the failure of the city and courts to settle a two year-old pay dispute. The men contended that they should get $2,700 in back pay under the union's interpretation of a 1968 agreement. That understanding was designed to keep an agreed differential between sergeants' and patrolmen's pay, which now averages $10,950 a year. Last week an appeals court ruled that the matter must be decided in a future jury trial. That decision stunned officials of the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association, who had repeatedly told their members to keep cool and bank on a court victory.

Once again, Mayor John Lindsay was the focal point of dispute, charged by some patrolmen with waging a "vendetta" against police by taking the pay issue to court. Though he expressed sympathy with the patrolmen's complaints, Lindsay termed their action "an attack on the people of this city." The increase would cost the city more than $60 million, and it already faces a huge budget deficit. The dispute thus became intertwined with complex negotiations already under way on new contracts for the city's police, firemen and sanitation workers. Nonstop talks were being held at week's end, but it was uncertain whether an early agreement could be reached--or whether the angry cops would adhere to any such pact.

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