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Economic Development is . . . (increasing the flow) of capital through the community and reducing its leakage.

The Policeman

Growing up on a farm near Montour, one of my fond memories was listening to Paul Harvey’s “The Rest of the Story,” on the pickup radio. It always fascinated me that the stories Paul told with dramatic pauses always ended with an ironic twist.

Paul wrote a powerful newspaper column called “What Are Policemen Made Of?” way back in 1970. He then recorded it for his radio audience under the title, “The Policeman.” Although it has been shared many times, I thought with all the recent police killings that it was an appropriate time to take a break from discussing Economic Development for one week and share it one more time:

“The Policeman” A policeman is a composite of what all men are, mingling of a saint and sinner, dust and deity.

What that really means is that they are exceptional, they are unusual, they are not commonplace. Buried under the froth is the fact: and the fact is, less than one-half of one percent of policemen misfit the uniform. And that is a better average than you would find among clergymen!

What is a policeman? He, of all men, is at once the most needed and the most wanted. A strangely nameless creature who is “sir” to his face and “pig” or worse to his back.

He must be such a diplomat that he can settle differences between individuals so that each will think he won.

But…If the policeman is neat, he is conceited; if he’s careless, he’s a bum. If he’s pleasant, he’s a flirt; if he’s not, he’s a grouch.

He must make instant decisions which would require months for a lawyer.

But…if he hurries, he’s careless; if he’s deliberate, he’s lazy. He must be first to an accident, infallible with a diagnosis. He must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and above all, be sure the victim goes home without a limp.

The police officer must know every gun, draw on the run, and hit where it doesn’t hurt. He must be able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform and without being “brutal.” If you hit him…he’s a coward. If he hits you…he’s a bully.

The policeman, from a single human hair, must be able to describe the crime, the weapon, the criminal and tell you where the criminal is hiding. But…if he catches the criminal, he’s lucky; if he doesn’t, he is a dunce.

He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache, to build a case against some felon who will get “dealed out” by a shameless shamus.

The policeman must be a minister, a social worker, a diplomat, a tough guy and a gentleman.

And of course, he’ll have to be a genius…for he will have to feed a family on a policeman’s salary.

What many of you don’t know is that radio legend Paul Harvey lost his father when he was just three years old. The elder Harvey was a cop, killed in the line of duty. And now you know, as Paul would say,    . . . the rest of the story.

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