Our Enemies in Blue. Kristian Williams
Hence, whenever control of the city government changed hands, turnover in the police department was sure to follow. Without regard for the qualifications of the individual officer, each party dispensed with the supporters of the other and replaced them with their own. Very nearly full turnover of police personnel followed the Los Angeles election of 1889, the Kansas City election of 1895, and the Chicago and Baltimore elections of 1897.6
In the 1907 Louisville election, when a Republican was unexpectedly elected mayor, every captain was reduced to a patrolman, and Republicans (many lacking in police experience) were appointed in their place. When the Democrats won in the following election, the process was reversed. Again in 1917, the Republicans gained control and fired 300 from a department of 429. Everyone above the rank of sergeant was replaced.7
In New York, positions were so sought after that appointments relied on political sponsorship or outright bribery, or sometimes both. Hence, from the first moment, the importance of political influence and bribes was made clear to new recruits.8 A patrolman’s position typically sold for $300 and required the approval of the district leader.9 Higher positions cost more. In 1893, Timothy Creeden paid a commissioner $15,000 to be promoted from sergeant to captain. As a captain’s salary was only $3,000 each year, it is obvious that he would need to rely on graft just to pay for his job.10
Even when civil service tests were instituted in the 1880s, conditions remained largely the same. Politicians circumvented civil service requirements by appointing partisan boards, administering the exams in essay style, or requiring the civil service commission to provide three qualified candidates for every open position and allowing police officials to choose among them.11 Experiments with state-level police boards proved equally unhelpful. The creation of state boards, a partisan maneuver by design, only transferred the control of patronage from one group to another—as indeed it was intended to do. Likewise, bipartisan boards, rather than eliminating political spoils, merely divided them between the two strongest parties, to mutual advantage.12
Nor did political interference end once an officer was hired. Police with powerful friends proved nearly impossible to discipline, no matter how corrupt, brutal, or negligent they might be. Even such routine matters as going on patrol and wearing uniforms were difficult to enforce.13
Since each officer’s career was politically controlled from beginning to end, the police became ardent supporters of their patrons. Police support was central to the survival of the machines: for much of the nineteenth century New York’s Board of Elections was under the supervision of the police board. The commissioners chose the polling places, drew up the voting districts, had the ballots and voter registration lists printed, and appointed the polling inspectors and clerks. The police department itself verified the registration lists, guarded the polls, and counted the votes. Mayor William R. Grace described this system as “a standing menace to the safety and purity of the ballot box, and tend[ing] to render the police of the city its masters rather than its servants.” Tammany police commissioner John Sheehan once bluntly stated that control of the police was more important than how the votes were cast.14
This power tended to magnify the significance of the administrative branch, and especially bolstered the influence of the mayor.15 The career of Boston’s Josiah Quincy anticipated the trend. Beginning in 1823, Quincy was elected mayor six times. In 1829, he was dubbed “The Great Mayor,” a title which probably reflected the extent of his power more than the quality of his performance. During his term, Quincy chaired every important committee, allowing him to build an efficient administration and, as importantly, consolidate power under his personal leadership. At the same time, Quincy maintained his influence in the wards with the assistance of the nascent police apparatus. Central to this effort was the creation of a new office—marshal of the city—which, lacking precedent and statutory limits, could be made to fit whatever demands the mayor placed on it. The marshal served as head constable, commanded the night watch, acted as the city’s chief health officer, prosecuted minor cases—and took on additional responsibilities after the creation of a day police in 1838.16
The marshal’s power reached its peak during the term of Francis Tukey, who took office in 1846. Within the first year of Tukey’s command the number of officers on the force was doubled, a detective division added, and a special night force created.17 But there were limits to how far this power would be allowed to develop. In 1851, the police voted as a bloc for Benjamin Seaver in the mayoral election, acting under the assumption that he would bar Irish immigrants from joining the force. Seaver won, but did not ban Irish police. Apparently the night police had crossed a line when they marched to the polls en masse. Seaver responded by firing all the night duty officers, dissolving that branch of the force, and leaving its patrols entirely in the hands of the barely existent night watch. Over the course of the next year, power was systematically moved away from the marshal and toward the mayor and the aldermen. In April 1852, the aldermen limited the marshal’s tenure to one year. Two months later, they replaced the position with that of chief of police. While Tukey was not fired outright, neither was he named the new chief. The Boston Semi-Weekly Atlas drew a comparison: “The Great Caesar fell for his ambition.”18 The lesson was clear: the police were a tool for the political machine; they would not be allowed to develop as a political force in their own right.
This balance could be difficult to maintain, though, since police were so central to the functioning of the machines. The police served the interests of political machines in three key ways: police jobs served as rewards for supporters; police controlled the elections; and police regulated illicit businesses, deciding which would be allowed to operate and under what conditions.19 As historian Robert Fogelson tells it,
Contrary to the conventional wisdom, the police did not suppress vice; they licensed it. From New York’s Tenderloin to San Francisco’s Barbary Coast and from Chicago’s Levee to New Orleans’ French Quarter, they permitted gamblers, prostitutes, and saloon keepers to do business under certain well-understood conditions. These entrepreneurs were required to make regular payoffs, which ranged, according to the enterprise and the community from a few dollars to a few hundred dollars per month, and to stay inside the lower- and lower-middle-class neighborhoods.…20
In this way vice laws, and liquor laws especially, proved a useful tool for political machines to enhance their power. Protection money provided a source of funding, and selective enforcement allowed political bosses to discipline their supporters and put their competitors out of business.21
In New York, precinct captains used detectives to collect protection money.22 In other places, the landlord would collect it as a part of the rent, then pass it on to the police. He would say to the proprietor of the saloon or brothel: “You can have this house for two hundred dollars, with police protection, or one hundred dollars if you take care of yourself.”23
Police detectives, like the thieftakers before them, were more interested in retrieving stolen property and collecting rewards than in catching crooks. Of course, the easiest way to get hold of stolen goods was to work with the thieves. In exchange for immunity and a portion of the reward, thieves would supply detectives with their loot. The detectives would return the stolen items to the rightful owners—minus whatever sum they claimed as a reward. Many professional criminals would not work outside of such a framework, and these deals could be quite profitable for the cops. Between January 1, 1855, and April 30, 1857, Robert Bowyer of the New York Police Department earned $4,700 in rewards—more than twice his salary for the same period.24
Sometimes, no effort would be made to retrieve the stolen property, or to return it to the victim. Pickpockets and con artists were generally allowed to go about their business unmolested so long as they cut the cops in on the action. The profits then worked their way up the political food chain. The Patrolmen were required to give a portion of their take to their commanders, the local politicians, and their affiliates, thus avoiding any punishment.25
Shakedowns weren’t restricted to illicit enterprises, either. Legitimate businesses could also be inconvenienced by strict enforcement of the law and were vulnerable to the disruption caused by routine harassment. Builders, bootblacks, produce merchants, and other peddlers had to pay off the beat cop, or else they might be taken in for blocking the sidewalks.26
The system of bribery and extortion that was nineteenth-century policing