Barbara Crowley, a tall, lithe woman of twenty-six, entered Bookbinder's Restaurant at Second and Walbut Streets and looked around the main dining room until she spotted Peter Wohl, who was sitting at a table with an older couple. Then she walked quickly across the room to the table.
Peter Wohl saw her coming and got up.
"Sorry I'm late," Barbara Crowley said.
"We understand, dear," the older woman said, extending her cheek to be kissed. She was a thin, tall woman with silver gray hair simply cut, wearing a flower-print dress. She was Mrs. Olga Wohl, Peter Wohl' s mother. It was her birthday. The older man, larger and heavier than Peter, with a florid face, was his father, Chief Inspector (Retired) August Wohl.
"How are you, Barbara?" Chief Wohl said, getting half out of his chair to smile at her and offer his hand.
"Bushed," Barbara Crowley said. As she sat down, she put her purse in her lap, opened it, and removed a small tissue-wrapped package. She handed it to Olga Wohl. "Happy Birthday!"
"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Olga Wohl said, beaming, as she tore off the tissue. Underneath was a small box bearing theBailey, Banks amp; Biddle, Jewelers, Philadelphia logotype. Olga Wohl opened it and took out a silver compact.
"Oh, this is too much," Olga Wohl said, repeating, "You shouldn't have, dear."
"If you mean that, Mother," Peter said, "she can probably get her money back."
His father chuckled; his mother gave him a withering look.
"It's just beautiful," she said, and leaned across to Barbara Crowley and kissed her cheek. "Thank you very much."
"She doesn't look seventy, does she?" Peter asked, innocently.
"I'm fifty-seven," Olga Wohl said, "still young enough to slap a fresh mouth if I have to."
August Wohl laughed.
"Watch it, Peter," he said.
"So how was your day?" Barbara asked, looking at Peter.
"You mean aside from getting my picture in the papers?" Peter asked.
"What?" Barbara asked, confused.
A waiter appeared, carrying a wine cooler on a three-legged stand.
"Peter was promoted," Olga Wohl said. "You didn't see the paper?"
"I don't think 'promoted,' " Peter said. " 'Reassigned.' "
The waiter, with what Peter thought was an excessive amount of theatrics, unwrapped the towel around the bottle, showed Peter the label, uncorked the bottle, and poured a little in a glass for his approval.
"I didn't see the paper," Barbara said.
"Mother just happens to have one with her," Peter said, and then, after sipping the wine, said to the waiter, "That's fine, thank you."
The waiter poured wine in everyone's glass and then re-wrapped the bottle in its towel as Olga Wohl took a folded newspaper from her purse, a large leather affair beside her chair, and handed it to Barbara Crowley. The story was on the front page, on the lower righthand side, beside an old photograph of Peter Wohl. The caption line below the photograph said, simply, "P. Wohl."
POLICE ORGANIZATION RESHUFFLED
By Cheryl Davies
Bulletin Staff Writer
Police Commissioner Taddeus Czernick today announced the formation of a new division, to be called Special Operations, within the Philadelphia Police Department. Although Czernick denied the reshuffling has anything to do with recent press criticism of some police operations, knowledgeable observers believe this to be the case.
Highway Patrol, the elite police unit sometimes known as "Carlucci's Commandos," which has been the subject of much recent criticism, has been placed under the new Special Operations Division, which will be commanded by Inspector Peter Wohl. Captain Michael J. Sabara, who had been in temporary command of the Highway Patrol since Captain Richard C. Moffitt was shot and killed, was named as Wohl's deputy. Captain David J. Pekach, who had been assigned to the Narcotics Bureau, was named to command the Highway Patrol.
Inspector Wohl, who was previously assigned to the Special Investigations Division, and Pekach are little known outside the police department, but are regarded by insiders as "straight arrows," officers who go by the book, lending further credence to the theory that the reorganization is intended to tame the Highway Patrol, and lessen press criticism of its alleged excesses. One Philadelphia newspaper recently editorialized that the Highway Patrol was acting like the Gestapo.
The new Special Operations Division will also have under its wing a special, federally funded, yet-to-be-formed unit called Anti-Crime Teams (ACT). According to Commissioner Czernick, specially trained and equipped ACT teams will be sent to high-crime areas in Philadelphia as needed to augment existing Police resources.
"That's very nice," Barbara said.
Peter Wohl snorted derisively.
"Congratulations, Peter."
Peter snorted again.
"Am I missing something?" Barbara asked, confused. "What's wrong with it?"
"I'm a Staff Inspector, for one thing," Peter said. "Not an Inspector."
"Well, so what? That's a simple mistake. She didn't know any better."
"For another, there's a pretty clear implication in there that Highway has been doing something wrong, and they haven't, and that Mike Sabara, who is a really good cop, didn't get Highway because he's involved with what's wrong with it."
"Why didn't he get it?"
"Because the mayor thinks he looks like a concentration camp guard," Peter said.
"Really?" Barbara said.
"Really," Peter said. "And I wasn't sent over there to 'tame' Highway, either."
"But Carlucci will be very pleased if you can keep the newspapers from calling it the Gestapo," Chief Inspector August Wohl said.
"Only one newspaper's doing that, Dad," Peter replied, "and you know why."
"Idon't," Barbara said.
"Arthur J. Nelson, who owns theLedger, has got it in for the police," Peter said, "because it got out that his son, the one who was murdered-Jerome?-was a homosexual."
"Oh," Barbara said. "How did it get out?"
"A cop who should have known better told Mickey O'Hara," Peter said. "Not that it wouldn't have come out inevitably, but he blames the Police."
Barbara considered that a moment, and then decided to change the subject: "Well, what are you going to do over there, anyway?" she asked.
"He's the commanding officer," Olga Wohl said, a touch of pride in her voice.
"You asked me how my day was," Peter said, dryly.
"Yes, I did."
"Well, I went over to my newcommand," he said, wryly, "about fourthirty. Special Operations will operate out of what until this morning was Highway Patrol headquarters, at Bustleton and Bowler. Three people were waiting for me. Captain Mike Sabara, his chin on his knees, because until this morning, he thought he was going to get Highway; Captain Dave Pekach, who had his chin on his knees because he's got the idea that somebody doesn't like him;because they gavehim Highwayin other words he thinks he's being thrown to the wolves; and a sergeant named Ed Frizell, from Staff Planning, whose chin is on his knees because when he dreamed up this ACT thing it never entered his mind that he would be involved in it-banished, so to speak, in disgrace from his office in the Roundhouse to the boondocks, forced to wear a uniform and consort with ordinary cops, and possibly even have to go out and arrest people."
Chief Wohl chuckled.
"And then I went to the Highway roll call," Peter went on."That was fun."
"I don't understand, dear," his mother said.
"Well, I was practicing good leadership techniques," Peter said. "I thought I was being clever as hell. I got there, and made my little speech. I was proud to be back in Highway, as I was sure Captain Pekach was. I said that I had always thought of Highway as the most efficient unit in the Department, and felt sure it would stay that way. I even included the standard lines that my door was always open, and that I looked forward to working with them."