The following stories are true. These observations are mine and definitely don’t reflect the opinions of the LAPD or some of the female officers I worked with. I’m treading on some thin ice with this subject, but what the hell. Any comments will be considered for my next installment.
For years, the LAPD was a good old boys club. Patrol was only staffed with men, some had served in WW ll, or Korea, most in Viet Nam and upon discharge joined the police department.
Policewoman badge
Female officers, they were always on the LAPD but they were assigned to the desk or Juvenile Division. My badge said Policeman across the top, the females’ badges said Policewomen, duh. The females could not rise above the rank of sergeant.
Anyone who came on the Department some time in 73-74 received a badge that said Police officer! A “Policeman” badge became a badge of honor, no pun intended.
The first integrated academy class graduated three female police officers. Guess who got the first one in Hollywood? Yep, I’m working morning watch and I’m going to be working with a female all night. My wife was not pleased.
Pioneering police women
A lot of officers were not happy about females being patrol cops, including Chief Edward M. Davis. Me, I always liked women. Hell, I married one, my mom and sisters are female. I know that those first female patrol officers faced a lot of resentment and yes, harassment. Working with a female partner required a lot of adjustment on the man’s part. I’ll described some of the changes.
You work with someone for eight hours you get to know them pretty well. Being in a police car for that long is similar to being trapped in an elevator. If you’re both married, you know each other’s spouse, children and pets by name. You hear about their problems, successes and maybe even her menstrual cycle. If she’s single, you hear about her last date, or a detailed description of her pets.
Let’s start with bodily functions. Yea, I know, how can you write about something like that? A little history. When two male officers work together and one says, “I got to pee,” it’s no problem. We hit an alley and the officer with the smaller bladder got out and took care of business. Done in two minutes, no problem. It’s not as if all the homeless people or drunks in Hollywood haven’t already peed in that alley.
I once got out to pee in an alley and as I’m taking care of business, I look up and there’s an old lady looking at me from her apartment window. I forgot that old people get up a lot in the middle of the night. I now understand. I zipped up and waved hello, she waved back. I logged it as a neighborhood watch meeting, attendance three.
Two police officers in a car. photo by colourbox.com
The other bodily function is the one that no one will admit ever happens. That’s right—the sudden release or escape of gas. For my less literate friends, a fart. I’m going to paint a picture that you’ll never see in Readers Digest.
You started out your shift with a “Pink’s Hot Dog,” extra chili and onions, a couple of Jalapenos and a root beer. An hour later your stomach is making noises that will register on the Richter Scale.
Some men feel that a fart is a sign of masculinity, something to be proud of, the louder the better. I was brought up different, my mom didn’t approve of public displays of flatulence. I don’t think I released gas in my wife’s presence until we had been married 10 years, at least that’s the way I remember it. Some women have different views, but what are you going to do sitting in a police car for hours at a time?
So I’m working with a female partner and the Pink’s hot dog is settling in my lower stomach. I pull into a nearby alley and tell my partner I have to check for something in the trunk. I fumble around in the trunk, making a lot of noise, then happily return to regular patrol. My female partner would also have to check the trunk once in a while. Patrol was different working with a women, at least most of them. We once had a female probationer who was nick-named the “Blue Flame.” No kidding. She didn’t know my mother.
[No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find a photo to illustrate the above. I think it is for the best.-Thonie]
“Cadets, I’d now like to discuss something that’ll be vital for you to know when your, like, out here, on the job, as a police officer. And, that’s the correct way on how to eat a doughnut.”
—Zed McGlunk, “Police Academy 2”
Police Academy
Part 1 of 3
For most people, those words immediately bring to mind a series of allegedly comedic and increasingly farcical films that first surfaced in the eighties. While far-fetched, one of the few aspects of police work those movies got right was that first critical training virtually every police officer, deputy sheriff, highway patrol officer, constable or even FBI agent has to accomplish is to complete some type of basic training course otherwise known as “The Academy”. Most all law enforcement academies generally have a two-fold purpose. The first is most obviously to prepare a cadet or recruit both academically and physically for the demands that will be place upon them upon graduation. The second function of the academy is to identify and screen out those unsuitable for a career in law enforcement because of academic deficiencies, inability to meet the physical demands or psychological issues. How both are accomplished varies widely usually due to state training mandates, departmental training philosophies or a combination of both. Some are near-military in their training approach with high stress and intense discipline as one might find in a “boot” camp. Others take a more relaxed, college campus type approach to training. Upon graduation, if they are hired, most “rookies” will face additional training and screening through some type of field training program. Despite the plethora of books, movies or television shows of the police genre, few if any ever touch upon this essential basic training experience in anyway other than in a cursory manner. As every recruit is an individual, they bring to this formative training, differing levels of life experience, work experience, academics, physical capabilities and emotional maturity. Consequently, while there are common training goals each recruit must meet, each one comes away with a differing perspective of their overall academy experience.
My Academy
My academy training took place in late 1979. While what I encountered was unique to me given my background, it does provide a framework for what someone going into the profession and attending a smaller, regional police academy in the early 1980’s might encounter. I was hired by the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office who sent me to the Santa Rosa Junior College (SRJC) Police Academy in Santa Rosa, California. I had a Bachelor of Science Degree in Criminal Justice from California State University, Los Angeles and had just spent almost four years on active duty as a commissioned officer in the Army. I had been through some of the most stressful, physically demanding and mentally challenging training that the military offered at that time. I had in fact actually begun my law enforcement career almost two years earlier when I received a transfer from the Infantry to the Military Police. Still, I savvy enough to know I had much to learn as there are vast differences between the missions of military law enforcement and civilian. Then, what were my overall expectations and goals as I embarked upon this training? I knew that I was not going to be one of those insufferable people who boasted that I was going to finish at the head of my class leaving all others in the dust. I had my fill of those types in the Army. I set out to learn all the tools I would need to build a foundation for my law enforcement career. There was also a much simpler, straightforward objective; gain the knowledge necessary to make it through the Field Training program back at the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office.
Personalities aside…
Beside myself, there were two other recruits from the Sheriff’s Office. The largest contingent of recruits was from a Silicon Valley Department of Public Safety. I found it a bit startling when I learned that there were several people in the class who had not been hired by any particular department; in essence, they were “civilians” putting themselves through the training in the hopes that successful completion would make them a more attractive employment prospect. I was also surprised at how small our class was; while I don’t recall the exact number of people who started training, I do know that 24 of us graduated and there was not an especially high attrition rate. I say this because at that time, SRJC ran a low stress, college-like training program that was twelve weeks long. Having a small class was not necessarily a bad thing because it meant much more one and one interaction with the various instructors. For me, the relaxed training atmosphere took some getting used to and as I was the only recruit with any military training, I often found the lack of discipline disconcerting.
Police Academy 3
As it was still the dawn of women moving from administrative and non-sworn positions to becoming street officers and though they numbered less than a half dozen at the start–one of whom was a fellow SCSO recruit. I did not find it particularly upsetting to have women among my class mates; they had been moving into “non-traditional” occupational specialties in the Army for some time, so I was quite used to training alongside and working with women. Some of the less enlightened male recruits felt differently and made no effort to hide their opinion that women did not belong, behaving like stereotypical misogynists. One of these “gentlemen” almost a perfect match to the “Police Academy” character “Mahoney” but with all the negative traits and none of the positive. Like Mahoney, somehow this person managed to make it all the way through training and graduated with the other recruits from his department.
There were other members of the class that could also have come straight out of that movie, though many of the personality types seemed endemic to every training course I had been through, both in the military and then law enforcement. There always seemed to be a “Tackleberry” type; the guy who carried a virtual arsenal in the trunk of his car, always wore camouflage fatigues, often reckless and always overeager. With the co-ed integration of women into training classes in the military and then the academy, there was usually some variation of the character “Hooks”; a female trainee soft of voice, uncertain of her abilities, and often deferring to men. Invariably there was someone like “Hightower”, the huge muscular guy who was smarter that he appeared, gentler than he seemed and loyal as a puppy dog to his friends. Finally there invariably seemed to be someone like the characters “Sweetchuck” and “Fackler”; this was the guy who tripped over his own feet, walked into closed doors, had a voice that cracked when under stress, lacked a scintilla of common sense and invariably either shot himself in the foot or a fellow classmate in the arse.
Looking back, each in their own way made the training far more “interesting” though at the time I’m sure many of us considered them with less kindly thoughts.
Part 2 is coming soon.
Petaluma Police T-36 Gerry Goldshine 1987 photo by Mike Kerns
Gerry Goldshine is the author of this guest post.Born in Providence, Rhode Island but raised in Southern California. Upon graduating California State University, Los Angeles, Gerry enlisted in the Army and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant. After leaving active duty in 1979, he worked for the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office. From 1980 until his retirement in 1996, he was a patrol officer, traffic officer, gang officer, field training officer and criminal resource officer at Petaluma Police Department. He has received training from Northwestern University Traffic Institute, California Highway Patrol, Institute of Police Technology and Management, Texas A&M Engineering Extension, College of the Redwoods and Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department Operation Safe Streets. He’s been married to his wife Linda for 33 years, has a daughter and lives in Sonoma County, California.
A female police officer makes an arrest in the 1980s. Photo courtesy of Los Angeles Police Historical Society.
This is a re-post from John Wills’ blog written by Dean Scoville
It’s difficult to determine when the first American female police officer pinned on her badge and began her watch. Several departments say they swore in the first “police woman” sometime around the turn of the 20th century so the issue is contested. It’s easier, however, to pinpoint the dawn of the contemporary female officer, that one moment in time where law enforcement’s and the public’s attitude toward women with badges began to change and female officers began to be perceived as “real police.” That year was 1972.
Forty years ago women didn’t have much of a toehold in law enforcement. A mere 2% of all police officers and sheriff’s deputies nationwide were female. Yet there was a growing presence of female officers and a growing recognition that female officers could take on duties that were once thought only suited to men.
Of course, women who wore badges in the 1970s faced old school stereotypes and biases, both within their departments and from the public. They were also accorded little consideration in sartorial matters, as they were required to wear impractical skirts, high-heeled shoes, and unisex ballistic vests that ignored the natural contours of the female figure. It wasn’t even until the late ’70s that Sally Brownes—uniform belts designed for women—were widely used. Before that belt was available, female officers kept their weapons and handcuffs in their purses.
Assignments were also an issue for pioneering female officers. They were shuffled into female-only duties, given desk and clerical work, sent to women’s jail wards, or posted to juvenile investigations units. But in the 1970s some female officers fought for and won patrol positions that would serve as promotional stepping stones.
These early ’70s female officers fought for and won respect. They also paved the way for more and more women to become officers.
A generation later, female officers make up 14 percent of the Thin Blue Line, and their ranks are growing. Female officers have yet to reach parity with their overall representation in society, but women have successfully integrated themselves throughout the ranks of law enforcement, serving as integral members of SWAT teams, K-9 units, investigation divisions, training staffs, and special task forces. Many have even gone on to helm major police departments as chiefs.
To trace the arduous path that women have forged in law enforcement, POLICE contacted women who worked their way up the ranks starting in the 1970s. Their personal experiences tell the story of what it’s like to be a female pioneer in a male-dominated profession.
Hitting the Streets
Patty Fogerson retired in 1994 as a detective supervisor III with the Bunco Forgery Division of the Los Angeles Police Department. Her career was even the subject of a television movie of the week starring Linda Hamilton. She says initially there was much trepidation on both sides of the sexual fence.
“My first partner didn’t know whether he should open the door for me when we got in the car,” reflects Fogerson, who joined the department in 1969.
Also in Southern California that same year, Judith Lewis was starting her law enforcement career with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
“When I joined the department,” Lewis says, “we were called ‘lady deputies.’ Our uniform was a skirt, high heels, and a blouse. We went through a 10-week academy vs. a 20-week academy for men. We got a 2-inch gun to carry in our purse. I was a deputy in an administrative job.”
Lewis went on to play an instrumental role in creating a program to usher women from working behind the desk to working the front line. In exploring this new territory, her task force encountered its share of hurdles on both sides of the gender line. And she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to hit the streets.
From the female perspective, Lewis explains, “I didn’t want to go to patrol at that time because I had three small kids. Patrol wasn’t what I joined the job for, and neither did most women. Opinion was mostly negative in the department to do that.”
As Lewis’ task force searched for positions for women on the department, a detective from the automotive division piped up, saying that women couldn’t or wouldn’t work there because they would have to crawl under cars to find VIN numbers. “I replied that I knew some obese male officers who couldn’t do that job,” recalls Lewis.
Retrained
Eventually, at Lewis’s request, the department asked for volunteers rather than implementing a draft. The first women on patrol were still required to wear high heels, a purse, and a skirt, but some women violated the rules and improvised their own uniforms for practical purposes.
And before they could become full-fledged patrol officers, women had to pass full academy training. For women like Fogerson, who had already completed a shortened training course designed for police women, a second round of academy training was required.
“In 1975, I experienced some double standards in the academy,” says Fogerson. “Physical training instructors in the academy didn’t want us there, and they made life as difficult as possible for us. One guy changed my time on the obstacle course. I had won medals in the Police Olympics, so I had done well. But he read off my time as being slower than the slowest person there.”
Fogerson’s response was to glare at the instructor who posted the bogus time. “He looked at me and asked, ‘Do you have a question about your time?’ I said, ‘No, sir.’ He said, ‘Good.’ I ended up having to do 10 pull-ups instead of four to pass the exam.”
Such harassment and hazing was commonly inflicted on early female recruits for patrol duties, but Fogerson and others are quick to note that many instructors and supervisors treated them fairly. While they could not excuse subtle or overt forms of discrimination that they experienced, they made the point that both men and women were subject to various acts that were largely dictated by their newness to the profession rather than their gender.
Trying Harder
Sexual harassment was also a common experience for these female pioneers, particularly in the early years. Unfortunately, there was not much that they could do about it.
“Phrases like ‘sexual harassment’ and ‘hostile work environment’ didn’t exist back then,” says Fogerson. “My attitude was, get the job done and you’ll be able to prove yourself. I was able to work robbery and detectives, background investigations, and was one of the first female drill instructors in the academy. I just got along and survived in the beginning, then things settled down.”
Former Tucson, Ariz., officer Ruthanne Penn agrees that the females she knew tended to try harder. In part, because they had to. “Males wouldn’t be considered a screw-up until they made 10 mistakes,” she reflects. “A female could make only one mistake and be considered a screw-up.”
Standing Out
John Wills, a former Chicago police officer and FBI agent and the author of the forthcoming “Women Warriors: Stories from the Thin Blue Line,” is sympathetic to Penn’s observations.
“Women stand out a little quicker when they make mistakes than their male counterparts,” Wills notes. “They stand out to the public and to their male counterparts because of their numbers. Large departments with lots of women on the street don’t have that problem. But in a small department with only two women on a watch, if one makes a mistake it sticks out like a sore thumb.”
Penn cites a peer’s unfortunate experience as a prime example. While the error made was not demonstrably different than those made by male officers, it proved to be one that the woman had a particularly difficult time living down. For a time it also made Penn, who worked in law enforcement from 1976 to 2001, hyper vigilant against making errors. Eventually, she relaxed. Not because she became apathetic to the prospect of committing some transgression, but because she simply acquired faith in her own abilities.
“After I’d been working for a while, I felt good about what I did so I didn’t care what men thought of me,” Penn says. “In the beginning there was a lot of pressure, for about five or six years. After several assignments, particularly when I became a detective, I was more confident. We were all on the same playing field.”
Promotions and Legal Action
Unfortunately, hard work alone could not bridge the gender gap that existed in many department policies, particularly as they related to promotional opportunities for women.
Capt. Rebecca Meeks with the Waynesboro (Va.) Police Department recalls her promotional struggles. “When I tested for lieutenant, I outscored a man who was promoted before me. They said it was because he had a four-year degree and I had only a two-year degree. It was the chief’s call. I’d heard that he asked other captains who they wanted to be promoted, so I felt discouraged. But the man who was promoted was an excellent supervisor, so I didn’t hold it against him.”
Faced with similar discrimination, two Southern California female officers stood up on behalf of their peers and filed lawsuits against their departments.
In 1973, a sergeant with the LAPD, Fanchon Blake, sued after she and other female police sergeants were not allowed to take the lieutenant’s exam because they were women. She won. A similar lawsuit filed against the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department by Sue Bouman in 1980 was eventually settled in 1988.
Among the legacies of these landmark suits were decrees that required departments to make amends to women in law enforcement. These guidelines were designed to bolster the presence of women in the profession and to remove barriers for promotion and assignments to coveted positions. They served as precedents for departments across the country to implement similar policies.
“Promotional boards are much different in today’s environment when you’re trying to promote from patrol,” notes Wills. “The testing process has evolved in terms of being more academic, especially with more technology being involved in police work.”
Still, it has not been easy for women to stand up for their rights in their law enforcement careers.
Lewis recalls the hardships that Bouman and others experienced in the wake of taking their stands against their departments. “Back then there really was no place for women to go with sexual harassment or job discrimination complaints, and it would definitely negatively affect your career if you complained publicly. By the time I left, there were places for women to go and either talk to someone confidentially or to place a formal complaint. However, the one thing that still existed in a few cases, was a peer and career backlash for making such a complaint. Sue Bouman paid heavily for her lawsuit and was the subject of continuing hard feelings and backlash against her for the rest of her career.”
Few Role Models
To counter the chilling effects of harassment, discrimination, and negative stereotyping on the job, women officers have turned to one another for support.
But for those women who were part of the vanguard for women in law enforcement, mentors and role models were in short supply. It was not only up to many of these women to undergo a baptism by fire, but to ultimately become mentors and role models themselves.
“There were role models for the jobs that women had traditionally done,” Lewis recalls, “but there were no role models for women working patrol. The women who went out to patrol early became role models for those who came later.”
Some, like Lewis, tried to establish formal mentoring programs. As recently as 1998, the International Association of Chiefs of Police concluded that while the need continues to be great, there are very few mentoring programs for women officers. What support there was typically came from informal contacts.
“The support women sergeants gave us was mostly in the locker room, urging us on,” recalls Fogerson.
Wills notes the importance of formal organizations for women in law enforcement. “In some parts of the country, women are still a minority. They need women’s organizations for the smaller contingent on smaller departments to give them support and direction.”
To that end there is no shortage of organizations developed by and for women, including a growing cadre of instructional institutions that focus on providing women gender specific training in areas of promotional and officer survival.
Wills sums up the progress made by women in law enforcement over the past four decades. “Back in the day, in the 1970s and 1980s, women wanted to be involved in law enforcement and it was something to prove—to society and themselves—that they can do the same job. In today’s environment, this is a sought after job and it’s highly competitive.”
Wills believes that women officers have earned respect from their colleagues and from the public because of the courage and dedication that other women have displayed on the job. “Some have paid the ultimate sacrifice and are listed on the memorial wall,” he says. “We saw a lot of heroics on their part and we still do. Now we look at them in a different light.”
