Stan Morgan, Park Police, Radio Car – The First Day

Sergeant Stan Morgan took the call from the dispatcher requesting a response to a disturbance at the Round-Up on East Lake Street. He and his partner were just a few blocks away on patrol at Powderhorn Park; the storm had made for a slow night and he was tired of driving in circles around the perimeter. So, when the call from Lieutenant Standish came over the radio, Stan was eager to take it.

Seargent morgan and Lieutenant Standish had grown up together and Stan knew the “bad lieutenant” well. Stan and Standish people called them when they were both rookies, “green-rangers” as they were referred to in the Park Police. 

They were both hard men and prone to violence, but unlike Stan, Standish was born bad and had no friends. 

The things Standish got up to didn’t bother the sergeant so long as he kept his dirty business to himself and didn’t ask Stan to do any cover-ups. Not that Stan would refuse a direct order, but there was nothing he hated more than cleaning up after a brute like him, and it bothered him when he had to.

Even though Sergeant Morgan was eager for a break in the action, after he took the call he had a moment of doubt and was hoping this would not be one of those occasions.

They took a left turn onto Lake Street from Chicago Avenue, heading west with the cherry-bowl spinning. They were on the lookout for Karl Thorrson, who shouldn’t be hard to spot on account of his gigantic frame, and sure enough they saw him running toward them on the North side of the street after just a couple of blocks, moving like a locomotive through the rain. 

Sergeant Morgan and his partner were about a half block in front of him when he turned suddenly into a narrow alley.

They were going a little too fast themselves to make the sharp turn themselves, so the sergeant directed his wheel-man to go around the block and enter the alley from the north side. 

By the time they turned the corner they passed another man running hard through the rain, with two city police following him. Stan figured it was all apart of the same set and he told his partner to prepare for trouble.

Three right turns later, they had made it to the other end of the block and were coming down the alley, then the biggest bolt of thunder Stan had ever felt came down on the city, shaking the streets for blocks, thundering through his chest, and knocking out the lights all around them.  

As they were coming down to the corridor they were facing the lights of another park Police squad car, it was his back-up coming to meet them. Both squads came to a stop in front of a loading dock. One of the rangers in the other car got out and approached a cream-colored coupe that was idling on the ramp next to them.

Stan couldn’t see inside the vehicle through the heavy rain, but he joked with his partner about the man they were looking for as he pointed at the car: 

“The fat man was probably running late for his date,” he said and his partner let out a hollow-little chuckle.

Stan called in their location then stepped out of his car into the heavy rain; the back door to the warehouse they had parked in front of was swinging on its hinges. 

He heard gunshots coming from inside, and the sound of a woman screaming, the other ranger, turned and ran into the building as the coupe backed off the ramp and pulled away.

Things were happening quickly, stan thought he saw a tall shadowy figure dash across the alley and go into the building through the open door.

He decided to let the coupe go, his focus was on Karl Thorrson. He signaled to his partner to get out of the car, and together with the fourth ranger from the other squad they drew their pistols and approached the building, not knowing what to expect or what they would encounter inside. 

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Burt Girard, Park Police, Patrol Car - The First Day

Officer Burt Girard cursed under his breath when Lieutenant Standish came into the duty room, ordering him to investigate a situation that had developed in the red-light district on Lake Street.

Lake Street was under the jurisdiction of the city police, it was Captain Dougherty’s turf at the Fifth Precinct, but when Standish came into the room with orders, Burt knew better than to talk back; so he and his partner got to their feet and put on their rain gear without delay.

They were out the door and in their squad in less than five minutes.

Burt got behind the wheel and headed north down the King’s Highway until it merged onto Dupont Avenue; six blocks farther down the lane he took a right turn onto Lake Street.

They drove with the cherry rolling in its fishbowl on the roof of the patrol car, but no siren. It was raining hammers and nails and there wasn’t much traffic west of Nicollet Avenue.

They moved swiftly through the traffic lights, until they came to a crowd that had gathered on 2^nd Avenue in front of the Round-up. He had to slow down to pass it. Their lieutenant had told them the incident they were investigating had begun there.

Crowd control was already being managed by beat cops from the Fifth.

They were on the lookout for Karl Thorrson.

Burt didn’t know him by sight, but he had heard the man was hard to miss, he was purportedly ten-feet-tall; Burt doubted that.

Any guy that big I would have noticed, he thought to himself.

Burt knew that Thorrson was a heavy hitter, though relatively new in town. He was some kind of crime boss who had gone to war with the old-power and won. He had taken over all of the rackets on Lake Street; from the bridge to Pig’s Eye to the Big Island on Lake Minnetonka: liquor and drugs, gambling and prostitution.

He had taken everything away from Colonel Forrester, who had been running the city for generations, some folks said that the Colonel had been in charge since before the city was founded; Burt doubted that to…that would make the old man at least a hundred years old.

Liutenant Standish had given them an address and told them to take a sweep through the alley between 4^th and 5^th Avenue.

Burt took a slow-left turn from Lake Street into that corridor when he got there.

At the entrance to the alley, he saw two Fifth Precinct cops huddled together under an awning with their backs against the brick storefront. One of them, an older fellow looked to be having some trouble breathing, the other met Burt’s gaze as he passed them; the look on his face suggested that he was seeking some assistance.

To hell with them, he thought. I ain’t getting wet for a couple of city cops.

Burt’s partner had the same idea; he smirked and shook his head as if he was laughing at their plight.

They rolled down the alley with their search lamp blazing and came to a stop at a warehouse loading dock, where they did a quick scan of the area. His partner thought he saw someone slip into a gap between two buildings.

“Probably just a junkie,” Burt told him. “We’re not out here to hassle the bums,” he said.

Not worth the effort to investigate.

Almost as soon as they had come to a stop, another squad came down the alley from the opposite end, this one was a park police radio car.

It pulled into a parking space in front of the loading dock, and Burt followed suit. They were at the address Standish had given them; the warehouse belonged to the giant they were looking for.  

There was a cream-colored coupe idling on the ramp that led up to the dock. There was a man behind the wheel and a woman sitting in the back seat. Burt and his partner got out of the car and he was about to approach the vehicle when there was a sudden flash of blinding light and a thunderclap so loud it shook them where they stood.

The city lights went out for blocks.

Just then Burt heard the sound of a woman creaming. It came from inside the warehouse. He and his partner ran to the back door and went inside, followed by the two fellows from the radio car.

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Tom Kaplan, Bar Back at the Round Up – The First Day

Tom Kaplan was glad to be at the Round Up and glad to be working, he was glad to have a place to be and keep-dry on a stormy night.

On this night he was particularly glad because his older brother had come in with his pals from the ROTC; they had come all the way from the University of St. Thomas, across the river in Pig’s Eye. They had money in their pockets and they were making him feel like a star just for bringing them beers.

It was a good night; Tom was busy and the room was crowded. All he could think about was finishing his shift in time to join his brother for a pint, but he was having the best night of his life seeing him with his college friends in their uniforms, watching them sing songs and tell stories, hearing their hopes for the future. 

He was determined to follow in his brother’s footsteps, but in the meantime he was busy pouring drinks and clearing tables, until the giant came into the room. 

Tom thought there was something funny going on by the way he stood at the bar, right where a little man who couldn’t have been more than three and half feet tall had been sitting just minutes earlier. 

He didn’t know who the gargantuan was, but his employer and he could tell that the huge man made his Mr. Holmes nervous. 

Tom couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they seemed to be quarreling for a minute or two, then the big man ordered a round of Aquavit for the house.  

His boss snapped his fingers and nodded; then he got busy pouring, he even had to go into the basement for extra bottles on account of the fact that the Round-up was packed with refugees from the deluge.

Tom served all the drinks and poured one for himself, joining his brother company while the giant, whose name Tom had heard, was Karl Thorrson, raised his glass and silently toasted everyone.

Everyone in the room toasted back, but as soon as that moment of good cheer was over, the big man and his boss appeared to resume their quarrel. 

Tom was watching them…everyone was watching as the giant’s hand shot out like lightning; he barely flicked his fingers at Mr. Holmes but there was enough power behind the gesture to send his boss flying backward into the wall…everybody saw it, but only his brother and his friends in uniform reacted.

They came to their feet and got between the giant and Holmes, then they began to push the gargantuan out the door…it took all of them to do it. 

Tom got the feeling that if the giant had only allowed them to move him, he had the sense that the big man could have knocked them all down with a wave of his arm. 

His brother and friends were heroic nonetheless and Tom was determined not to be the only guy standing around doing nothing; so he tabulated the man’s bill, grabbed the bowler that had fallen off his giant head from off the floor and went outside to make sure that the man paid his bill…or at least to make a show that he wasn’t afraid press the point.

I’ve got to try, Tom said to himself. Trying was the right thing to do. 

When he pushed his way out the door he saw that the big man had slipped and fallen in the rain, but he was already coming to his feet. He had a hard time believing that anyone or anything could have knocked him over, but apparently his brother’s friends had succeeded.

Outside the bar the heavy rain felt good to Tom, especially after feeling the hot rush of adrenalin surging through his body while the fight had been happening inside the bar.

He approached the gargantuan, returned his hat and presented the check. 

The giant threw his head back and laughed in the face of Tom’s audacity.

Tom saw the girl he was sweet on standing in the rain across the street, her name was Greta and he smiled at her even though he knew she could not see him through the rain and confusion. 

He looked up into the meaty face of Karl Thorrson, he stared into the lifeless piece of black-glass that was set in his eye socket, he saw the jagged lightning bolt inlaid there with diamonds, then he saw the rainbows jumping off them…as he was consumed by a bright-white-light.

Tom Kaplan fell-dead on the sidewalk, and the rain began to pool around him.

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Hank Jeffers - The First Day

Hank Jeffers had an appointment to keep at the Round-up; he made it there well before the rain began to soak St. Anthony. He arrived early thinking he might do a little business and take a few bets for his partner before meeting the tall-blonde, green-eyed lady who had become the biggest-brightest star of his life.

The dame’s name was Angela Guthrie and she was the loveliest person to enter Hank’s dreary little world for the better part of a decade...maybe ever.

It wasn’t in Hank’s character to complain about the hand he had been dealt; Who’d listen? He would say if someone asked him, and the answer was always the same…no one, nobody cared.

Hank was a few inches shy of four feet tall.

He was quick-witted and insightful.

His parents had made sure that he had a good education; they ensured it by sending him away to boarding school, which had the advantage of keeping him away from them and their other—normal children, They exiled the dwarf from their society, and they were glad to do it, on account of the fact that they were embarrassed by their first son, who had been born malformed.

            Hank was fourteen years old the last time he saw them, when he waved goodbye to their backs after they put him on the train to Fairbault, when they sent him to the Preparatory School at Shattuck-Saint Mary’s.

They never invited him back home for the holidays. They never wrote or returned his letters. They had left a couple of hundred dollars on account for him when he graduated, along with a message asking him to find his own way in the world, wishing him well and absolving themselves of responsibility for him, at the same time that they instructed him to never come home.

It broke the dwarf’s heart, but he had seen it coming; he was bow on his own, formally disinherited and alone. He had brothers and sisters he would never get to know. They would have children who would never know him…they would not know that he even existed. They wouldn’t even wonder about him or know to say a prayer for him. It would be up to him to pray for them, which he did from time to time.

            Hank wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, not then, not ever, so he turned away from his past and moved on.

Things could have been worse, he would tell himself. They might have sold him to the circus…he knew that happened.

The priests at Shattuck encouraged him to enter a monastery, to join up with the Church, but he didn’t see much happiness in that way of life, and he had a hunger for adventure.

Hank wanted to see the world, and as it turned out, he made his way just fine. 

While he waited for Angela to join him, he talked to a few fellas’ and took a couple of bets, then he sat at a table by himself in the corner where he watched the room fill up with boys from the Saint Thomas ROTC.

The squad had come all the way down Lake Street to lift a few pints and ogle the working girls, they were neatly dressed in their uniforms, and they didn’t give a second thought to the rain.

When Hank saw Karl Thorrson, come into the Round-Up he was surprised and he quickly became nervous.

The giant had taken over all the rackets on Lake Street, including the numbers racket that Hank was operating without permission, which could mean trouble for him if he wasn’t careful.

The gal he was waiting for worked for his business partner, the singer Ingrid Magnusson, she worked at their reading room and collectibles shop just a few blocks west on Lake Street; it  had Thorrson’s name painted on the glass.

Hank and Angela had been looking for a way to get an angle on the gargantuan-gangster, and seeing him come into the bar while he was waiting for her, caused Hank to imagine something bad had happened to her, and something worse was about to happen to him. But it wasn’t long before Angela came through the door, every head turning in her direction as she did; she was a stunning beauty who looked completely out of place in the tavern…out of place but not ill at ease. She handed Thorrson a journal of some kind and a small, metal-money box.

Thorrson’s slipped them into his pockets as if they were no bigger than a child’s playthings. Then he dismissed her with a glance.

Angela spotted Hank sitting by himself in the corner. She quietly walked across the room and sat down with him at his table.

Thorrson didn’t even pay any attention to her after that. She was nothing to him, just a servant and seeing that settled Hank’s nerves…few people gave him a second look either, and he understood what that meant.

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