The Paperhanger

Twenty-first precinct, Sergeant Collins. Yes, I can do you. What's coming there? If you're alone, how much is on the clock? Four dollars and one? Why can't you pay it? Oh, yeah. You are in the must of the room of the Twenty-first precinct, the nerve center, and call is coming through.

You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call, from this minute until the final report is written in the One-Twenty-Four Room at the Twenty-First precinct. Alright, drive ahead of the station house, we'll talk about it when you get here.

Would this come on over here and we'd get it all settled? Yeah, alright. I'll see. 21st Precinct. It's just lines on the map of the City of New York. Most of the 173,000 people, wedged into the 9th and 10th of the square mile between Fifth Avenue and the 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 homes, their perseeds and their property is the job of the men of the 21st Precinct. The 21st, 160 Potulman, 11th Sergeant, and four Lieutenant of O. M. Lebauce.

My name is Trolman, Vincent P. Trolman. I am captain in command of the 21st Precinct. I was doing night duty, 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. At 1.55 a.m., after I had been on patrol of the Precinct, then turning out for platoon at midnight, I returned to the station out where the 10th Schneider

was desk officers, and Sergeant Collins telephone switch for duty. If I came through the door into the master room, I thought a hot driver and I was very pretty young woman about 20 standing in front of the desk. I walked around behind the desk and found the block.