The Luck Of The Draw

It was a typical Monday on the South side of Chicago, for police detectives John Gannon and Sam Harris. They had stopped by the "Double Header" hamburger joint, on the corner of 63rd street and University Avenue, for a morning cup of Joe. They always took a few minutes to relax, before heading out on the day's cases.

The year was 1958. May, found the frost and snow of winter, which lasted until the end of April, was gone. John and Sam worked out of the 6th precinct, over on Cottage Grove Avenue. Their precinct Chief, Captain Joe Janowski, kept their feet to the fire. Always pushing to solve cases, and keep the Mayor off his hind quarters.

John and Sam had the 63rd street area beat. It ran from the precinct headquarters on Cottage Grove, then eleven blocks to Stoney Island Avenue, Jackson Park, and the lake. They were two of the precinct's best officers, and had both made detective in a short time. They had attended the police academy together, and were partnered up just as they made detective.

63rd street was one of many business districts in the city. The Chicago Transit Authority's (CTA), elevated train tracks ran from Stoney Island then back toward the precinct and beyond. The constant train traffic made for a noise filled atmosphere, no matter what time of the day it was.

The South side's history for petty crime could be traced to the late eighteen hundreds. It was just part of the landscape, when the city was starting to grow. The growth brought a horde of new people, searching for work. That is where John and Sam came in, burglary and vice. Occasionally, they found themselves working a domestic brawl or a homicide case, when the department was short-handed.

63rd street was a melting pot, of every type of character and nationality. The diversity made for a never dull caseload. At times, Mrs. McFadden would call, wanting a bum off the steps of her apartment building. Or it might be Mr. Angelo, complaining of kids stealing peanuts from the store displays? Whatever the call, John and Sam were ready to roll.

"Car 12, Car 12, Dispatch!"

"Go ahead O'Reilly."

"You have a call, over on Black Stone Avenue, possible B&E (breaking and entering) at the J&E Warehouse."

"OK O'Reilly, 10-4, on the way."

“What's there Sam? Do you know?"

"Yes. It's a tire warehouse."

"Let's roll."

The car headed out, without sirens. They drove through the alleyways, to avoid any heavy traffic, and keep the perps (perpetrators') from getting any warning. It was late evening already. As luck would have it, the call came in as their shift was ending. The car pulled into the alleyway, a few feet short of the back entrance. The engine was shut off quickly. The detectives checked their revolvers, before going in.

They left the car, making sure they closed the doors quietly. Like shadows, they snuck along the wall, and studied the area. The warehouse door was ajar. Opened just enough for a body to make its way in, without drawing too much attention. John peeped in first, and spotted two men rolling tires toward a side door, and stacking them. John motioned for Sam to take a look.

"I'll go through this door. You go around the side door, in case they try to run."

"OK John, I got it!"

John waited a few minutes to let Sam get to the other door. It would be only seconds, before he sneaked in and got the drop on the perps. With Sam in place, John pulled his gun and yelled out.

"OK! Hands up and don't move!"

"Get against the wall!"

The perps knowing John had the drop on them. Did not make an attempt to fight or run. John had them caught. But what the detectives did not know. Was that there was a third man. He was waiting in a get away truck. The driver was to wait for a signal, then pull up to the side door for loading tires, when they were ready.

The driver spotted Sam waiting at the side door, and ready to help John if the need arise. He left the truck quietly, snuck up behind Sam, and fired three shots. As Sam was hit, he turned and fired one shot as he went down. Sam's quick response and training, took the killer down with one shot to the head.

Sam was fading fast, as he heard John calling out.

"Sam! Sam!"

That was the last thing Sam heard, as darkness came over him. Then, there was silence.

****

Detective John Gannon was beside himself, as he struggled with the loss of his partner and longtime friend, detective Sam Harris. Three days had passed, and the department was preparing for Sam's funeral. Sam left behind his wife Linda, and two sons, Sam Jr. and his brother Bobby.

John had asked the Chief, to let him deliver the news to Linda. After all, they had been partners and friends. It was a gut wrenching day, as John and his wife Sandy gave her the news.

All John could do, was hold Linda in his arms, as they sobbed at the loss of Sam. Sandy and Linda were good friends. But at the moment, Sandy felt numb. She could only be there for moral support. She had no words to express what she felt. What if it had been John instead? She felt ashamed of the thought, because

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Texte: Roger A. Sanchez Sr.
Bildmaterialien: Roger A. Sanchez Sr. (Cover)
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 30.05.2012
ISBN: 978-3-7309-1115-0

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Widmung:
To the Chicago Police Department and 1950s Chicago where I grew up.