The Neighbor

Twenty-five three things, sergeant Waters. Now let's get this over there at the scene of that burglary. Yeah, I know you are. What's the trouble? Oh, yes, huh? Yeah. You are in the muster room at the twenty-first precinct, the nerve center.

The 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. Okay, you ought to be back here within an extra half hour or so.

Yeah. Okay, I'll leave the message for him. Twenty-first precinct. It's just lines on a map of the city of New York. Most of the 173,000 people who wedged 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 twenty-first. But as they know it or not, the security of their homes, their persons and their property is the job of the men of the twenty-first precinct. The 21st, 160 patrolman, 11th Sergeant and 4th Lieutenant, of all my new boss.

My name is Crowman, Vincent P. Crowman. I am captain in command of the 21st Precinct. I was doing night duty, 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. I turned out to put to him for the 12th to 8th Corps at midnight and went out on patrol the Precinct.

Things were quiet. At 1.35 a.m. with 10 and Patrick Gorman with on duty at the station house and Sergeant William Waters out of the telephone switchboard. The settlement was broken occasionally by the hum of the switchboard or a call over KDA, the police radio.