The Mainliner

Twenty-five three things, Sergeant Barnes. I can hear you. What's the trouble there? Is he on or long? How much is on the clock? Two dollars and what? Well, why can't you pay it? But she loses.

Well, you are in the mushroom of every one of those three things. The note center, now call is coming through. You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call from this minute until the final report is coming through.

is written in the 124 room after 21st Precinct. All right, you're driving ahead. Drive into the station house. We'll talk about it when you get here. Just drive around the station. We'll get it all settled here.

Ahhh! 21st Precinct. It just lines on a map of the city of New York. Most of 173,000 people wag into the 9.10th of a square mile between Fifth Avenue and East River wouldn't know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the 21st.

Whether they know it or not, the security of their persons, their homes and their property is my job. My job and the job of 160-per-covin, 11-sargents, and four-low tenants of whom I am the boss.

My name is Connelly, Frank Connelly. I am Captain in command of the 21st. What makes a city? Not buildings, not subways, not businesses. People make a city. From dawn to midnight, from midnight to dawn, the rich and the poor and the good and the bad.

Poor allies together and stir up the city. As in the 21st, a little over two weeks ago. I was working my 60m to 8am tour. At 1.55am following patrol I returned to the station house. In the muscle room Sergeant Burns was on the boxes. Lieutenant Snyder was the desk officer. A hot driver and a well dressed very pretty young woman about 20 stood in