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According
to the book description of Red on Red, "The author of the
celebrated memoir Blue Blood (May be the best account ever written of life
behind the badge. Time) delivers a mesmerizing, relentless thriller that rings
with the truth of what it takes to be an NYPD detective. Nick Meehan is
introspective, haunted, and burned out on the Job. He is transferred to a squad
in the upper reaches of Manhattan and paired with Espositoa hungry, driven cop
who has mostly good intentions but trouble following the rules. The two develop
a fierce friendship that plays out against a tangle of mysteries: a hanging in a
city park, a serial rapist at large, a wayward Catholic schoolgirl who may be a
victim of abuse, and a savage gang war that erupts over a case of mistaken
identity. Red on Red captures the vibrant dynamic of a successful police
partnershipthe tests of loyalty, the necessary betrayals, the wedding of life
and work. Conlon is a natural and perceptive storyteller, awake to the ironies
and compromises of life on the Job and the beauty and brutality of the city
itself."
The Washington Post said of Blue
Blood, it is the “memoir of life in the New York City Police Department, Edward Conlon would seem just
the man to keep his two worlds apart. Harvard-educated and a gifted writer, Conlon has been contributing the "Cop Diary"
to the New Yorker under the name of Marcus Laffey. But anyone expecting a neat separation between officer and writer will
be disappointed. Conlon is a cop's cop and his book, a dazzling epic of street life and rough camaraderie, is far more
rewarding than any disgruntled Serpico-style tell-all could ever be.”
From the History
of the New York Police Department Watchmen were required by ordinance (July 13, 1829) to callout fires. The Captains of
each Watch District were ordered to instruct the Watchmen under their direction to cause every alarm of fire to be made as
general as possible, by crying aloud the mane of the street or post where the fire might be. Watchmen were allowed fifty cents
for attendance as witnesses at Special Sessions, by ordinance, December 27, 1830.
When on duty, Watchmen wore a fireman's
old-fashioned leather hat, bereft of it upright front plate. This hat was varnished twice a year, and soon became as hard
as iron. From this they came to be called "Leatherheads." They were also dubbed "Old Charlies." They had
no other badge of office than this hat, and a thirty-three inch club. For many years, like their Dutch predecessors, they
called out the hours of the night, but this practice ceased long before the old Charlies has run their course. For over half
a century the city was policed by these Watchmen. The system worked well enough while the city remained in its "teens;"
but an ever increasing population, and constantly expanding area, in time called for a change in the management and organization
of our public guardians. The jaded stevedore, teamster, or mechanic, could hardly be expected to display much enterprise or
energy, when, on each alternate night, he sallied forth to patrol the streets. It is safe to assume that he performed his
duty in a perfunctory manner, and that the "knights of the jimmy," and other midnight marauders, did not hold him
in especial reverence or dread.
The only day police during the regime
of the aforesaid Leatherheads, were the Constables, generally two from each ward, and the Marshals, who were assigned to the
Courts, it was, then, the province of the Watchmen, or "Leatherheads," to protect life and property, to preserve
public order, and generally to keep the criminal classes within proper subjection. He did not always succeed in doing his,
it is true; but perhaps that was not entirely his fault. The young bloods of those days took liberties with this official
personage which no young man of our time, who valued his health and reputation, would dare take with one of "The Finest."
The old "Leatherheads" had often to suffer the pranks of wild young men about town, who, like their cockney prototype,
thought that a night's spree would not be appropriately ended except they had played some practical joke on the City Watch,
which took the form generally of upsetting a watch-box with a snoring Leatherhead in it, or t lasso the sentry-box with a
stout rope, and drag it along with it imprisoned occupant. But these experiences did not seriously ruffle the temper of the
Watchmen, and so nobody was much the worse off for those irregular pleasantries.
Source: Our Police Protectors Holice and Debbie
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