by Rebecca Reilly
Mercury Rising #11, August 1995
Riding a Greyhound across New York State, the woman seated next to metold me that every Sunday she lit a candle in church for the boys in blue.She saw them as courageous for always going into the mouth of danger. Inthe six cities I have messengered in, I rarely meet people who wholeheartedlyshare her sympathy.
In D.C., the first city where I worked as a messenger; it was unusualfor police to come after messengers for traffic violations. More commonlythey would show up at Dupont Circle when a lot of messengers were congregatedafter work. They would come with their paddy wagons and begin busting theunwary for drinking in public, possession of drugs and possession of anunregistered bike. Unregistered bikes were then thrown in the paddy wagon.
Some police had been known to double-lock a courier's bike. Since othercouriers double-locked to collect debts, once had no way of knowing ifthe owner of the extra lock wanted $20 or to make a bust. There were alsoundercover bike cops. They were too clean, always standing-by in the wrongplaces and never talking to any friends So they were easy to spot.
Chicago, my second city, is easy to break traffic laws in due to thedensity of traffic and the fact that everyone participates in the free-for-all.But, like most things in Chicago, things can turn ugly in a hurry. A velocityrider was riding N. Michigan when a car behind him honked. He gave thecar the finger. The driver sped up and began cursing the rider out. Theverbal fight escalated until the messenger invited the driver out of thecar for a fight. There they stood in the alley. The messenger dumping hisbike and bag, preparing to finish things when the tables were turned andin a split second, the rider rendered completely powerless. The drivertook out his badge. Entrapment, but good luck if you have no witnesses.Before the officer was pulled away on official business, he told the messenger,"I'm going to be looking for you on the street. When I see you I'mgoing to kill you. And you know what? There’s not a damn thing you cando about it.
The next city, Houston, was low key, however, police brutality seemedto be a fact of life. My advice from other messengers was something likethis, "You'd better say "Yes, sir," then the bending won'tbe so hard. Houston’s messengers were not bigger troublemakers than saythe messengers in D. C. or Portland, but there were an inordinate numberof them on probation. They were pulled over often; cited nearly every time.The court system had no sympathy for them so they found it difficult toput out $150 per ticket. After a certain amount of time a warrant wouldbe made for their arrest from nonpayment of tickets, so the next time theygot pulled over they spent the night in jail. I had messengered in twocities for two years and in that time I was pulled over once. I was inHouston for three months and I was pulled over three times and once threatenedwith imprisonment.
Denver was city number four for me. It was there that I witnessed anongoing dialogue between the city government and the bike messengers. Itall started when J-Bone arrived from eight years messengering in San Francisco.Right away he detected a paranoia among the messengers and rampant discriminationfrom the police. Upon witnessing one officer who sat in wait at the busiestmessenger intersection in town pulling over messengers all day, J-Bonepulled his quarterly reports. He went to the chief of police, demandingthat the police back off in light of the fact that he had enough evidencefor a selective harassment suit.
In Seattle, the messengers joked that if someone was pulled over bya motor cycle officer, three things were sure: You'd get a lecture; You'dget a ticket; and the officer would have a moustache, even if it was awoman. Police forces around the country send teams to Seattle because theyhave the best bike patrol in the world. Indeed, the boldest maneuver I'veever heard of or seen from a bike cop happened in Seattle. He flew downSeneca Hill blowing his whistle. When he reached the car, he slapped itwith his open hand and yelled, "Pull over! Seattle’s messenger's hadmore respect for the bike cops than the motorcycle cops. One Seattle messengerremembered a bike cop telling him, "If you see us, just don't breakthe law right there in front of us, or else we have to bust you, honestlywe understand we really don't want to bust you. In the case of motorizedpatrols, pursuit sometimes borders on the ridiculous. One motorcycle copwrecked his bike on a curb chasing an ABC rider. Many others have brokenvarious laws, driven on sidewalks, all in pursuit of that light runningfiend.
San Francisco is easy to avoid police in. Traffic is dense and thereare a myriad of alleys to get lost in. When messenger and cop meet, thelines of justice get murky. The most striking recent example that comesto mind is of an incident in the Tenderloin. One messenger pulled overfor running a red light. Another messenger arrives to switch packages.Upon seeing the injustice of ticketing of his friend and colleague in sucha cesspit of illegal activity, The second messenger inquires as to theseriousness of the firsts' offense seeing that there were other thingsof greater importance that needed more attention. After having switchedpackages and satisfied that he got to put his two cents in, he startedon his way. The officer yelled for him to stop, pulled him from his bike,flung him into the side of a car and hand cuffed him tightly enough thathe was left with multiple cuts on his wrists. His offense to evoke suchbrutal treatment? He didn't have a license plate on his bike.
A candle lit for sympathy. How about a candle for hope. Hope that oneday the fair cops are the ones people tell stories about.
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