Thought For Today...

Just because you have an Italian last name doesn't mean you should open a restaurant.

Another Leaves Us

I first met Captain Dan Brant in August of 1984 and I was scared to death of him.

I'd been hired on the 4th of that month, sworn in alongside Chuck Norris, Chris Brunk and Dave Nirode. I can't recall where the other three were assigned, but I drew afternoon shift...Captain Brant's shift.

Sgt Bob 'Pappy' Poth was my training officer, and I couldn't have drawn a better one. Bob knew everyone and everyone knew him. He was a real street copper.

He took me into the Watch Commander's office to meet Captain Brant that first day, an old hand a shade over six feet and carrying a little extra weight for his frame. I was very nervous, though I can't explain why, other than I knew that this man had the power to take my job at the first misstep. Captain Brant peered at me over the top of his reading glasses, sizing me up.

"So, an Ontario guy, huh?" I'd been at Ontario PD for four years before being hired on at the city.

"Yessir."

"Welcome aboard", he said, standing and extending a hand. "Forget everything you think you know about being a policeman. Sergeant Poth will teach you how we do things here."

He sat back at his desk and resumed reading from a stack of papers, signalling that the introduction was over.

I was sweating.

I'd come to find in the weeks ahead that 'The Boss' was a stickler on paperwork; I'd always been pretty good at writng General Offense reports, and I'd done a few with the help of my 'coach' that hadn't been rejected. That would change, however.

Pappy and I were about three hours into the shift; I'd done my first G.O. on my own earlier, with no help from him, and had dropped it in the 'To Be Approved' basket in the Sergeants Office, feeling pretty satisfied with myself. Pappy had me driving and handling the radio at this stage, my earlier service at OPD having given me a head start during training. Then the radio call came.

"300 to 135". That was me.

"Go ahead."

"135, signal 23 and contact the Watch Commander." I had to go on station and report to Captain Brant.

HOLY COW, what could I have possibly done??!! Being told to contact 'The Boss' was a big deal.
I started running every scenario of what was going to happen through my head, every one of them ending with me being fired.

Pappy didn't help matters. "Uh oh, that's not good..." He had his head turned toward his door window; I couldn't see the smile that had to be there over causing a nervous rookie additional angst.

As we pulled into the compound, Pappy told me he'd wait in the car. I was going in alone.

I rounded the corner in the hallway that led straight to the WC office, and I could see Captain Brant absorbed in reading a G.O....which turned out to be the one I'd turned in earlier. I was sweating bullets as I stepped into his office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Again, he peered at me over his glasses, not speaking immediately, fixing me with his unwavering gaze.

"Dangling participle." His eyes never left me.

WHAAAT??

"Dangling participle. You have one in your report," he said, holding up my paperwork adorned with a big red circle around the offending grammatical error. I'd have to rewrite the entire report.

Well, he wouldn't fire me over a dangling participle, would he?

Dan Brant died Sunday at the age of 72. Dan was a man I would come to know well over the coming years, a guy who would seem gruff until you got to know him and a man who liked to laugh. I don't know what kind of street cop he'd been, but I do know he was a very good supervisor who cared about his people. He was a man who would sit and talk about whatever you wanted to talk about, if need be, regardless of how much of his time you took.

I respected the man immensely and considered him a friend.

And I will miss him.