The Six Hundred

Twenty-first precinct is just lined on the map of the city of New York. Most of the 173,000 people waged into the 910th 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 persons and their property is the job of the men of the 21st precinct. The twenty-first, one hundred and sixty but tall and an eleven sergeant and four lieutenant of all mine and the boss. My name is Cronin Vincent P. Cronin. I am

captain and commander of the twenty-first precinct. I was doing day duty at eight AM to six PM. Tours of beauty vary like the weather, some a quiet, another's a stormy. This tour was a stormy one. When I came on a job at seven at around 30 a.m. a three-alarm fire in an old brewery near the East River had just been

brought under control. Two city primemen have been overcome and taken them at the part of the hospital. At 8 16 a.m. a bus in the taxi cab collided on 2nd Avenue. The driver of the cab and his two passengers were injured. Shortly after 9 o'clock there was a call that a paint store on Lexington Avenue had been burglarized during the night. I was still at the scene

of the accident when patrolman's fire my operator rang into T.S. from the call box and inform me of the burglary. We made the run to Lexington Avenue. The men from sector four and Sergeant Kinney were already on the job.

Power park between their cars in front of the paint store. Alright, let's go. Hello, Captain. What do we got, Ross? A safe job, John. They hauled it away. They just rolled it out the front door catered away.