NY Police

New York City Police Department

Originally published in the April 14, 1891 issue of the newspaper "Once A Week," this is the fact-filled report on the workings of the New York City police department. All text is from the original article, with illustrations by EJ Meeker.

The headquarters of the New York Police Department is a four-story building, the main entrance to which is in Mulberry Street, the rear entrance in Mott Street. It was erected, a tablet inside tells us, in 1862.

Mr. William Murray is Superintendent of Police, at a salary of $6,000 per year. There are 36 precincts and captains in New York, and 3,288 officers.

The police force, of all grades, numbers 3,421, one officer to each 512 of the city’s population. That is counting captains, sergeants, detectives, roundsmen, patrolmen, and doormen. The latter are uniformed, and pretty well-informed, if a trifle lowering on wet days.

The examinations of applicants for appointment as patrolmen are held at the central department on Monday of each week by a changing committee of surgeons.

Each physical defect liable to render the applicant unfit for the performance of the brain-racking duties of a patrolman is considered sufficient cause for sending the applicant to look up a job as guardsman on the elevated road.

There were 37,159 Americans arrested last year in New York.

Of these, 29,001 were men and boys; 8,158 women and girls; 1,186 of these were colored brothers; 1,201 were kinky-haired sisters.

Ireland contributed 20,654 prisoners, and Germany 9,248.

The number of bartenders arrested was 3,725; actors, 117; loafers, 19,414; editors and reporters, 99; poets, 0.

There were 195 suicides: 54 went by stabs; 33 hanged themselves; 64 shot themselves; gas sent 19 out of the world; 1 got in front of a locomotive.

An officer is always on duty at the main entrance, packed with facts for the inquirer.

The number of lost children taken in charge by the police was 2,968. Over 2,900 of these chicks were restored to their parents, and 22 were taken in my the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

At the top of the police house is the foundling department, presided over by Matron Travers. Children are kept there three days, and then, if not called for, are sent to a good home. There are three or four beds and cribs in the large room, and lots of little chairs.

During the year the number of charges preferred against members of the police force was 2,965, beginning at intoxication and running through neglect of duty and disobeying orders.

Downstairs is the court-room where policemen are tried every Wednesday. Each commissioner sits once a month in judgment on the offenders.

Up one flight in the Mulberry Street mansion and we come to the room where the patrolmen are fitted out with locust clubs (35 cents apiece), rubber coats ($4.50), stripes (8 cents – each stripe on an officer’s sleeve means five years’ service), and hats ($2.25 each).

Down on the first floor, overlooking Mott Street, is the Property Department. It looks for all the world like a pawn-shop.

The shelves and floors are packed with hundreds of revolvers, knives, slung-shots, jimmies, watches, silverware, opera-glasses, horse-clippers, whiskey, whips, kegs of vinegar, and a bale of hay. We looked in vain for a full-rigged ship.

All of the above is kept there subject to the order of the district attorney. Nine-tenths of it goes out on a court order; the rest is sold at auction.

Upstairs we strike the Rogues’ Gallery.

The gallery consists of an immense case, in which are great layers, like leaves in a book. You turn these layers are you would leaves, and see on thousand nine hundred and twenty-four faces that cannot be duplicated outside of darkest Africa.

Each face is on a small card, and each card has a little aperture to itself. On the backs of the cards are the pedigrees of the criminals.

Inspector Byrnes is Acting Superintendent.

He was born in Ireland, about fifty springs ago. He pulled himself up to his present position by his pluck and ability.

He is the terror of evil-doers. He says that there is too much sentiment wasted on thieves and assassins. He also says that honor among thieves is an unknown quantity.

He looks brace and cynical enough to tackle a board-house steak or bill.

His office is large, and one of the finest in New York.

He is just like his office.