St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-10-07
NIGHT HAWKS EYRY.
A Night at the Office of the Bastile of
the Police Force.
PHASES OF ITS LIFE.
Scenes and Incidents Of the Duty OF the
All-Night Police Re-
porter.

The familiar old brown building at
the corner of Washington and Fifth
| streets furnishes a subject upon which
volumes might be written. There, for
! nearly half century, the wheels of the
municipal government have been in
motion. Many pleasing incidents, many
interesting meetings, and many sorrow
full and heart-rending scenes have oc-
CURED within the now dingy walls of
that venerable structure. To chronicle
all the noteworthy happenings there
would require column after column OF
space in this paper. But it is not the
writer's present object to place before
you an unabridged history of the incl
dents that have occurred in the old city
hall. He merely aims to draw few
| pen pictures which might fttingly be
arranged under the title. "PhaseS OF
Life" For material he resorts to police
drama of life. It's run is indefinite.
| Nearly every st. Paulite knows where
| the police station is. but comparatively
| few are familiar with the interior Of the
| place. To the police reporters OF the
morning papers the interior of the sta
| ton is only too familiar. If you drop
! in there at any time during the night
you will see the ceaSeleSS toiler of the
press. You probably won't have the
| qualification of seeing toll, but he will
be there just the same. Behind the
desk you will see the dignified, but
nevertheless obliging and courteous
Lieutenant Murphy, the officer in
charge. In an old arm chair near the
stove you will see Jailer OKeefe, as
patriotic an Irishman as the Maker ever
placed on earth. If you happen in just
at the right moment you will hear the
| gong in the stable strike No. z, which
means that some one is in trouble at the
corner of Seventh and Minnesota street.
A second later you will see the patrol
wagon dash out OF the stable and down
the street, the horses running at break
neck speed. simultaneously you will
see Lieutenant Murphy take his feet
from the top of the desk, Jailer OKefe
rise from his chair and the reporters
open their eyes. 1t may be muir
der or it may be only plain
drunk. The wagon returns. As it
backs up to the door you see the body of
a man lying in the bottom OF the wagon.
Ii you're stranger about the place you
| naturally think something awful has
appened-prObably a murder. Officer
FiizgibbonS, in charge of the wagon,
grabs the PROSTATE man by the heels
and dragS bin into the station. There
| O'Keefe and FitZgibbOnS stand the fel-
! low on his feet, but as soon as they let
go he falls on the floor in heap. He's
not stiff enough to be dead, but suf-
! ficently Timber to be dead" drunk. lie
is nnceremoniously picked up and
| thrown into cell.
Then quiet again reigns for few
minutes. Suddenly the door opens and
| a decrepit Old man, covered with rags.
| steps iii. H. is by no means stranger
| to the place In fact, he is one of the
bOardefS. Without word he moves on
| to the tramp room, lies down on the
| floor and soon falls into the arms of
comforting old Morpheus. As he
passes through the front room 0 Keefe
sadly shakes his head and remarks:
Chow men will fall. l knew that fellow
when he owned a big Seventh street
| store. He had fine family, and was
surrounded with every comfort and
luxury. But. poor fellow, he had some
troubie-tOok to drink-lost his family
went from worse to worse-lOst his for
| tune-and now he's with the dogs"
And what OKeefe says is right. He's
lived in st. Paul for many years and is
a walking history of the town.
If you wait long enough you will hear
the gong again. This time the wagon
goes away out on East Seventh street
and brings back one of the ''ladies" of
the town. Her apparel is not exactly
neat, nor is it of the latest Partisan
style. 1t consists of an old calico dress.
torn in various places, a "back-numoer.
straw hat, and undiscovered shoes full
of holes-and feet. Her face is the very
picture of dissipation; her language
! the very index to her character. AS she
| enters the station she bolSterouSly
yells:
Hello, gents"
s.Well. Back Alley Mol, what's the
matter with You to-night?'' asks O'Keete
| as he proceeds to register the lately ar
rived guest.
.'Oh, nothin'. Some bIokes come inter
my place full of red eye and got to jug
| gIin' with furniture. jes' thought I'd
| fool the - by throwin' 'em
| out. While rs doin' it the copper come
| along and said Is diSOrderly. That's
| all there was to-it. l wasn't disOrderly
at all, but III play even with that cop
per, see 4 | don't. It's gettin so in this
| town that a decent woman can't"
| But OKeete interrupted the ''lady"
! Nv DuSulllS UtI lllJO q CCils OllC SlCC po
| soundly for the remainder of the night.
She hal ''been there before many a
| time-many time"
A half hour passes quietly by, and
! then Henry Flint, the operator, rushes
| down stairs and eXclaimS: Man shot
on the Robert street bridget" Lieut..
| Murphy and the reporters seize their
overcoats. jump into the patrol wagon,
and away they 90 to the scene of the
| tragedy. About the middle of the
bridge the wagon hats, and all hands
get out and surround the unfortunate
man. who lies bleeding on the sidewalk.
Lieut. Murphy quickly raises the dying
mans head. The victim is carefully
placed on the stretcher, and the wagon
moves slowly back to the station. Here
the sufferer is carried into the little
back room. from which the reporters
| and outsiders are excluded. In few
minutes pr. Ancker, the city physician,
arrives. Without word he immedi-
ately goes to the bedside of the injured
man. Lieut.. Murphy energies from the
back room. He is instantly surrounded
by the reporters, and in answer to their
inquiries, he simply says: The doctor
will be out in few minutes"
The reporters are in SuSpenSe-every
minute is an hour to them. Finally the
doctor comes out, shakes his head, and
sadly murnurS:
s'DPado