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Some-162 members of the White House Police, 196 U.S. Park Police and the Metropolitan Police force of 2850-are authorized to carry guns on and off duty and have full powers of arrest throughout the District. Others, in almost identical uniforms, must check their weapons on leaving their posts and have no more arresting authority outside their own bailiwicks than any citizen who has witnessed a felony.

These forces include:

The 216-member Capitol Police, headed by a Metropolitan Police deputy chief, Charles J. Sullivan. Their beat is Capitol Hill; the men almost all Congressional patronage appointees, include many working their way through law school.

The 33-member Supreme Court Police, many of them trained in the Metropolitan Police rookie school.

The 37-man Zoo Police, who use Metropolitan Police ticket books for traffic violations on the Zoo grounds.

The 20-man Aqueduct Police, an agency of the Army Corps of Engineers charged with protecting the District's water supply. MacArthur blvd., from the District line to Great Falls, Md. is in their exclusive jurisdiction.

The U.S. Special Police, 1580 strong, guard those Federal buildings which lack their own forces. Their chief is John J. Agnew, a former deputy chief of Metropolitan Police.

The D.C. Government Special Police, 59 men, guard the District's offices and property, including courtrooms and condemned buildings.

Special Police, mostly guards in nongovernment buildings, include employes of uniformed detective agencies. Special Police badges, issued by Metropolitan Police, number 959.

The D.C. Police Reserve is an unarmed, unpaid, blue-uniformed volunteer force of 1032 citizens attached to Metropolitan Police precincts. Organized in World War II, they serve at parades, guard fireboxes on Halloween. That adds up to 7144 policemen-not counting about 140 Armed Forces Police, plus Federal Bureau of Investigation and Treasury agents and postal inspectors, and many others with arms and police powers. But take a close look at the badge next time you see a man in blue.

When Representative James C. Cleveland was assaulted by a robber in his House Office Building suite one night last March, the resulting outcry prompted outraged legislators to demand "professional" police protection. This crime also helped remind Washingtonians that Capitol Hill is the exclusive preserve of the Capitol Police, one of the eight police forces other than the Metropolitan Police operating in the District of Columbia. However, when the man now charged with attacking the New Hampshire congressman was arrested in less than 24 hours, it came as no surprise that the arrest was made by the Metropolitan Police. When serious crime fighting or crime detection is required, it is usually the Metropolitan Police, rather than one of the other eight departments, who are called on to do the job.

To some, the thought of so many separate police forces standing by to help our citizens might convey the idea that Washington has plenty of police protection. But this is not necessarily so. It is more accurate to say that what police protection we do have is split various ways. What these police forces do, have, and are and how they fit into the city's jigsaw puzzle of jurisdictions-this article will try to explain. However, why Washington, which President Johnson would like to see become the best-policed city in the United States, should have so many police forces is another matter. There seems to be little, except the theory of Topsy's growth, to justify our proliferation of police protection.

The District of Columbia (and certain contiguous Federal territory beyond the District line) is policed not by one but by nine uniformed forces. Six of them have exclusive jurisdiction over some bit or piece of Washington or its Federal environs, while the other three overlap in covering the rest. These nine departments do not include those of Montgomery County, Prince Georges, Arlington, Fairfax, or Alexandria, which of course do not reach into Washington, However, even some areas within these locations come under the jurisdiction of the Park Police, the Aqueduct Police, or the Airport Police.

Obviously the most important though possibly the most misnamed force in town is the Metropolitan Police. How can a force be called "metropolitan" when it stops at the District line and has half a dozen othe departments in its own territory?

The Metropolitan Police, however, are Washington's front-line troops in the grinding, deadly war against crime and disorder. Numbering 3,150 police and civilian employees (with 22 percent Negro patrolmen), rarely up to authorized strength because of recruiting difficulties and discouraging pay scales, it is the Metropolitan Police who catch and arrest the felons, take the casualties, and backstop the other police whenever real trouble comes.

The MPDC's resources, divided among fifteen precincts and four specialized divisions (Traffic, Detective, Morals, and Youth Aid), include 181 cruisers and scout cars, 14 patrol wagons, 92 motorcycles, and six police boats. The department's communications reach every vehicle, 90 of some 150 foot patrol beats, and 937 call boxes. By means of the area police teletype net and common-aid radio circuit which joins the important police agencies of the District and adjoining Maryland and Virginia, police headquarters keep in close touch with all the area's emergencies and misdoings. And the MPDC will, when it is installed, operate the recently announced million-dollar-a-year police computer system which, serving all forces in metropolitan Washington, is a long step toward a truly unified regional police effort.

To employ these resources in coping with Washington's more than 25,000 serious crimes per year (according to the FBI, our 1965 score was 25,462), Chief John B. Layton has a budget of about $38 million. It is little enough. Sixty-six men of the MPDC have given their lives in the line of duty in this century alone— five (and one police dog loyal unto death) during the past two fiscal years. Last year 20 policemen won medals for feats of valor or merit ranging from gunpoint confrontation with armed madmen to rescuing fifteen persons from a blazing building. For $6,010 a year--base pay of an MPDC private the taxpayer takes such heroism for granted.

Top among our professional, hard-working police officers, and recent successor to the capable, deeply respected Chief Robert V. Murray, the present chief, Layton, has much to live up to. The extent to which he will succeed remains to be seen. If Chief Layton proves unable to stem Washington's rising crime rate he will certainly hear from one prominent Washingtonian, President Johnson, who in March said, "We must bring the latest and most effective methods of law enforcement to the District of Columbia."

One controversial local police problem, which was watched closely by at least one former President, stems from the very existence of the District's second largest police force, the 290-man U.S. Park Police. An anomalous body, in theory part ranger, mainly in fact a snugly funded mix of highway patrol and city traffic police, the Park Police-or "Sparrow Cops," as they were once known— have primary jurisdiction over the twenty per cent of Washington which falls under National Park Service jurisdiction, including Constitution and Independence avenues, the 776 circles, triangles, squares, the Civil War forts, and other greenswards of Washington. They also have secondary jurisdiction everywhere else in the District, just as the Metropolitan Police, when they get a respite from crime in the streets, can work the parks. Park Police patrol one-fifth of the District; for this Washington taxpayers contribute one-third of the Park Police budget.

Outside Washington, the Park Police have a constellation of responsibilitiesmainly 74.6 miles of Federal highway patrol-ranging from near Baltimore to Seneca (federally owned Park Police territory.) The empire of the Park Police today is so extensive that patrolmen carry summons books for three different U.S. District Court jurisdictions-Richmond, Alexandria, and Baltimore-into which their clients may be haled.

Larger by itself than a police force for a city of 75,000, the Park Police, with their 40 scout cars, 32 motorcycles, two horse vans, and 23 horses (Washington's only mounted police), and their new $700,000 Potomac Park headquarters, their separate Police Academy, laboratory and photo lab, are per capita Washington's most costly police. Even the Park Police uniforms-gaudy or distinctive, according to your taste-are, at $500 per set, the most expensive in town. Acknowledging the cost-differential between Park and Metropolitan police, the Interior Department's T. Sutton Jett, who for 27 years has ably presided over our parks, says the return is worthwhile: With 15 million yearly visitors, Washington needs, he says, a kind of "visitors police" to aid tourists, range the parks, and police the Cherry Blossom Festival and other special events. On the other hand, crime statisticians will note that the Park Police, with about ten per cent of the Metropolitan Police uniformed manpower, in 1964 (according to the FBI) logged only

208 serious crimes, compared to the 22,392 handled that same year by the MPDC. Last year, however, the Park Police did hand out 34,900 traffic tickets.

Nelson Murdock, who heads the Park Police, is the outstanding police chief of the region. Because of long national park experience, he, unlike Chief Layton, whose public relations are often inept, is public-oriented to a degree unusual in his calling. He is canny and statesmanlike in his approach to problems, and popular with his colleagues. In four years here he has raised the Park Police from a squabbling camarilla to what he now describes as "a strong, proud, capable unit." He also fiercely defends their autonomy as a separate force and rejects the suggestion, sometimes heard around town, that the Park Police (more than doubled since 1945) represent one of the most successful feats of empire-building in the region.

Besides the two big departments just described, each branch of our government has its own police in Washington: the White House Police, the Capitol Police, and the Supreme Court Police. Although all three cooperate closely with the Metropolitan Police, each has its own exclusive jurisdiction. The common primary function of these three departments is, according to White House Police Chief Ralph C. Stover, preventive. They protect the President and first family, our lawmakers, and Supreme Court justices from intruders, criminals, and plain nuts. There is his friend, Chief J. M. Powell of the Capitol Police. The Supreme Court's Captain T. V. Slominski (like Stover and Powell, a veteran alumnus of the Metropolitan Police) has to deal with so many eccentric ladies that-on Chief Justice Warren's personal suggestion-he has taken on a policewoman, making the Court's 33-man police the smallest D. C. force to have a policewoman.

The 213 men of Major Stover's White House Police are the elite of the town, and for good reason. In providing security for the White House and Executive Offices, no mistakes are allowed. Until 1922 this function was performed by special detail from the MPDC, but in that year the White House Police were established in their own right, which gives the Harding Administration at least one worthwhile achievement. By law their men come from the ranks of the Metropolitan and, occassionally, the Park Police; and Major Stover-quiet-spoken, intelligent, and keen on his job-sees that he gets the best. Men who fail to stand up at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue go back onto the beat. Of all Washington's lesser departments, except of course the Armed Forces Police, the White House Police have the most solid case for autonomy. They also have-as Puerto Rican assassins learned when they tried to shoot their way into Blair House in 1950some of the best pistol shots in the country. In 1940 their team won the world championship and, as a bulging trophy cabinet shows, they have been near the top ever since. They are the only Washington police, besides the Metropolitan, to have had a patrolman shot and killed in line of duty in the past fifteen years. Chief Powell's Capitol Police-270 patronage appointees (mostly night-school law students, it is said) and a hard core of 35 regulars seconded from the MPDC-hold sway over the grounds of the Capitol, an irregular territory extending from Union Station to A Street, S.W./S.E.-155 acres in all. This area, outside the reach of the Executive Branch, is under exclusive control of the sergeants at arms of the House and Senate. Chief Powell, his 22 detectives, and the ten men a night who pound beats on the Hill, are detailed from the Metropolitan Police. Like the White House people, they make few arrests. But they do dispense tickets freely to D.C. residents and tourists who mistakenly park in the extensive spaces reserved for members of Congress and their staff. And with the Hill surrounded by a high-crime area, they keep their eyes open, and felony arrests by the Capitol Police are not unknown.

The Supreme Court Police have an even smaller patch of jurisdiction (one square block) than the White House force's 25 acres. Together with the White House Police they are one of the special groups who have no prowl cars. But Captain Slominski, a gnarled, kindly professional with a long memory of Washington police annals, keeps his men-100 percent qualified pistol shots-up to a tight standard. Besides crackpots, they cope with as many as 17,000 visitors a day, answering questions such as "How much does the building weigh?” or "Where does the jury sit?" They also tactfully maintain decorum in court by nudging counsel to keep their coats buttoned and prompting lady lawyers not to wear hats-one of the long standing rules of the Court.

The Armed Forces Police, 159 officers and men from the Army, Marines, Navy. and Air Force, are the region's only literally metropolitan force: Their jurisdiction-limited, of course, to service people-covers the District of Columbia

plus five counties in Maryland and seven in Virginia. Their commander, Colonel R. F. Wheeler, USA, a square-cut combat veteran of the Army's Corps of Military Police, has his headquarters in the Navy Yard, his own brig, radio network, 22 cruisers, and ten capacious paddy wagons. Like other departments in Washington, the Armed Forces Police have long been integrated. "We have 153 men, four uniforms, two colors, and one job," he remarked. The Armed Forces case load is impressive: In 1965, besides 221 major felonies, they handled 5,541 other criminal offenses and 3,121 military offenses, investigated 874 accidents, and apprehended 674 deserters. This is no indication that the Armed Forces are crime-ridden, but simply that Washington has a large military population, both transient and garrison, and also that the Services do their share to protect Washington.

Of our last three police forces, that of Washington National Airport, headed by Chief James P. Dillon (who spent 25 years with the Port of New York Authority), is the only one not actually within the District. But since Chief Dillon's 45 men and two cruisers perform a vital function for the city, and because his jurisdiction-all Federal property-abuts Washington, the Airport Police can be considered one of our forces. Although he breasts a tide of seven million passengers a year. Chief Dillon takes an essentially optimistic view: He encounters very little crime ("People here are intent on traveling"), few dips, and no numbers operators or con men to speak of. "There is a very good atmosphere around an airport," he says, and he aims to keep it that way.

The smallest and lowest-paid force in Washington-twenty men and three cruisers is the Engineers Corps's Acqueduct Police, headed by Captain E. J. Kerns, a brisk, twinkly-eyed officer who somewhat resembles the late Bobby Clarke. Captain Kerns's jurisdiction is by no means small, however. It includes all of Washington's reservoirs and MacArthur Boulevard but as far as Great Falls, where, aside from the physical security of the water systems, the force's main job is to keep speeders and overweight trucks from pounding in the conduits which underlie the road. If you are nabbed by the Acqueduct men on the Maryland side of the line, you may ultimately find yourself in court in Baltimore, where Federal jurisdiction over Montgomery County heads up.

Like a pearl inside an oyster, the 176-acre exclusive jurisdiction of the Smithsonian Institution's Zoo Police, under Captain Joseph J. McGarry, is wholly surrounded by another jurisdiction (Park Police), which in turn is girt about by the Metropolitan Police. With 29 men, his own radio net, one cruiser, and two radio-equipped scooters, Captain McGarry protects the animals against four million people a year. Aside from traditional Easter Monday riots (which the Metropolitan Police have helped damp down), the Zoo Police are mainly troubled by traffic violations and truants. "This place," one officer says, "is a marshalling area for truants." As they straggle in, they find Captain McGarry, a trim, leathery old-timer from the Corps of Military Police, waiting with open arms. Although one of Harry Truman's earliest vetoes, in June 1945, kept Congress from sliding the Park Police at least in the District-under MPDC command, he evidently regretted it later. A subsequent promise, destined to go unfulfilled, was that, if he ever got the chance, he would put all police in Washington into one truly metropolitan department.

Like other uncompromising ideas of President Truman, his view that police in the District of Columbia should be unified is, even today, intensely controversial, with many separate empires, much prestige, and rich bureaucratic prizes at stake. How touchy the issue is among our police chiefs is indicated by their reactions to my question: "What are the arguments against a Presidential Reorganization Plan or Congressional action to legislate all police and all jurisdictions within the District-White House and Armed Forces Police excepted-into one really metropolitan department?"

Gun-shy at the very thought, Chief Layton refused to discuss the question. Park Police Chief Murdock, predictably, was vehemently opposed. “What do I think?" he asked. "It would be like martial law * * * dictatorship *** the first step toward a national police."

Of the five remaining chiefs queried, two-significantly, with small departments said that unification was the only solution. All were emphatic that the political difficulties in persuading the departments of Interior and Defense, the Smithsonian Institution, the House and Senate sergeants at arms, the Supreme Court, and the Federal Aviation Agency, to yield their slices of the local police pie would be great. This obviously is true.

Yet it is also obvious that in addition to our hard-pressed Metropolitan Police holding the line against heavy odds, Washington in effect has a duplicate police force which, whatever else it may attend to, catches few felons, takes no casu alties, costs considerable money, and demands substantial resources. This duplicate, or phantom force-composed of Park Police, Capitol Police, Supreme Court Police, Airport Police, Acqueduct Police, and Zoo Police-—includes 667 uniformed patrolmen, 50 cruisers, 34 motorcycles, 23 horses, one duplicate police academy, a crime and a photo lab, and numerous headquarters. On a gravely congested frequency spectrum, they tie up six extra radio frequencies.

The 1965 budget for this phantom police force totaled about $5,838,633roughly a million dollars of this (for the Park Police) contributed by local taxpayers. An extra $6 million could buy Washingtonians a lot more hardcore police protection where it counts.

Naturally, Rock Creek Park, Capitol Hill, Hains Point, the Supreme Court, the Airport, the acqueduct, even the Zoo, would still have to be policed. But how much more efficient it would be to have the sum total of the District of Columbia's police resources unified in a truly metropolitan force, rather than depending, as Washington must today, on cooperative jury-rigs. Chief Murdock holds that "unification of effort," coupled with wide-open autonomy for all nine departments, is the answer; surely it is-from a Zoo or Park Police standpoint. But from the standpoint of the people who live in Washington and pay for police protection, just plain unification would be even better.

The CHAIRMAN. At this time I would like to call on Mr. Margolius, representing the Policemen's Association.


The CHAIRMAN. I understand the majority of the officials of your organization are attending a convention at this time. Hence, that is the reason for their absence.

Mr. MARGOLIUS. Mr. Chairman:

My name is Bernard Margolius, Mr. Chairman. I am Counsel for the Policemen's Association of the District of Columbia. At this particular moment the President and Chairman of the Legislative Committee of the Association are at the national convention of the National Association of Police Associations. I have been asked to come here and say a few words.

I have not had time to prepare a written statement because of the short notice, and I happen to be involved in a police case at this particular moment. I have no written statement, but I will give you, if I may, a few comments concerning how the Police Association feels about this.


When the so-called Broyhill bill was introduced, the officers of the Association obtained copies of it and circulated it among the members of the Association, comprised of 4600 persons, including 91 percent of the men on the Metropolitan Force, including also White House Policemen, Park Policemen, and retired policemen. A copy of the bill was printed by the Association and circulated among the members of the Association. They were asked by a questionnaire to answer either: "I favor this proposal," or

"I oppose this proposal." And they were asked to make comments, if they had any.

This was done before the serious situation which has arisen in the last few months.

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