Saturday, October 21, 2017
Frank Was Drunk And Disorderly...Again
By: Donovan Baldwin
When I was a boy in Florida, there was a family three houses from ours. They had three kids at home, and one grown and on his own. N
Nice enough people, except Frank M., one of Mrs. M's older sons. He could be nice too, but, he had this bad habit of getting drunk and disorderly...often.
My father, interested in radios and electronics, bought a police scanner so he could monitor the calls and maybe get some "news before it was news".
One of the first nights he had it on, there was a series of calls between Escambia County sheriff's deputies about something going on at the end of our street, Cary's Lane, in Warrington, Florida. Warrington was not part of Pensacola at the time.
That Summer night, with the windows open, we heard the sirens of multiple police cruisers converging. Flashing lights were bouncing red in the darkness (before blue lights).
We were glued to the exciting story unfolding before our ears, you might say.
Suddenly, a deputy came on the air, "It's okay. It's just Frank M. again. We're taking him home."
The lights went out, the night became still, the radio was silent, and the room suddenly lost the excitement it had held.
We heard knocking on Mrs. M's door as the deputies delivered Frank...again.
Simpler days.
Today, he would be thrown in the lockup, go to trial, cost the taxpayers thousands of dollars, and have to pay a few hundred in fines...which he would get from his mother.
But, we were a smaller world back then, and, perhaps, neighbors more comfortable with each other's sins.
Nice enough people, except Frank M., one of Mrs. M's older sons. He could be nice too, but, he had this bad habit of getting drunk and disorderly...often.
My father, interested in radios and electronics, bought a police scanner so he could monitor the calls and maybe get some "news before it was news".
One of the first nights he had it on, there was a series of calls between Escambia County sheriff's deputies about something going on at the end of our street, Cary's Lane, in Warrington, Florida. Warrington was not part of Pensacola at the time.
That Summer night, with the windows open, we heard the sirens of multiple police cruisers converging. Flashing lights were bouncing red in the darkness (before blue lights).
We were glued to the exciting story unfolding before our ears, you might say.
Suddenly, a deputy came on the air, "It's okay. It's just Frank M. again. We're taking him home."
The lights went out, the night became still, the radio was silent, and the room suddenly lost the excitement it had held.
We heard knocking on Mrs. M's door as the deputies delivered Frank...again.
Simpler days.
Today, he would be thrown in the lockup, go to trial, cost the taxpayers thousands of dollars, and have to pay a few hundred in fines...which he would get from his mother.
But, we were a smaller world back then, and, perhaps, neighbors more comfortable with each other's sins.
Labels: donovan baldwin, drunk, drunk and disorderly, Escambia County, Florida, Pensacola, police scanner, Warrington
