Op-Ed: NYPD Hero Represented Real New Yorkers

Text and photos by George Molé

(An edited version of this article appears in the July 20, 2017 issue of The Riverdale Press.)

Less than a mile from the now-hallowed location on East 183^rd Street where Detective Miosotis Familia lost her life is the five-story Bronx walkup where I was raised. Both are in troubled neighborhoods near the Grand Concourse, the faded but still regal boulevard lined with Art Deco architecture that once symbolized middle-class elegance.

Coming of age in the Bronx, I knew that most of its residents were workers and strivers, people trying to get bills paid and kids schooled, and maybe get a little bit ahead tomorrow or next year or someday. That remained true even as communities “changed”—to use the standard euphemism—with many of the long-time Irish-American and Jewish and Italian-American residents finding better lives in the suburbs as the old neighborhoods sank into violence and squalor.

And it was still true later when I worked those same and similar areas on an EMS ambulance or wearing an NYPD uniform. To the casual observer, the rough crowd loitering on the streets at all hours may seem to be the face of the neighborhood; but the people who really make the community work are less visible, seen only when trudging to or from bus stops or subway stations on their daily or nightly commutes, or holding their children’s hands on the walk between home and school.

One of New York’s best-kept secrets is the high level of support for law-enforcement by residents of crime-afflicted predominantly-minority neighborhoods. In my years serving such communities, I’ve rarely attended a public meeting or had a conversation where folks demanded that cops be less assertive; almost invariably, they implore the police to address the quality-of-life issues that plague them, and to remove the hoodlums and drug-dealers from their hallways, from in front of their buildings, and from the parks where their kids play. And they are thrilled when they see results.

But those who appreciate the police don’t get much press, sadly, being too busy taking care of their families to become protesters or activists. And, perhaps, because they don’t fit the anti-cop narrative that dominates so much of the media. They’re just ordinary New Yorkers.

We all know now, of course, having learned much about her since her death, that Det. Familia was an ordinary New Yorker herself, striving to support and nurture her family as a working mother in the Bronx.

Det. Familia’s wake and funeral took place at the World Changers Church, which occupies the old Loew’s Paradise Theatre on the Concourse, one of New York’s stunningly ornate golden-age movie palaces. The name of the church, and its majestic setting, were fit for laying to rest a warrior queen whose example may yet change the world.

At a Sunday vigil in front of the nearby 46^th Precinct, and the next day at her wake, the community was out in numbers to pay respects, holding up candles at the vigil or lined up for hours to file past her casket in the church. And on the day of her funeral, as thousands of cops from across the world filled the Concourse for a final salute, and police helicopters and motorcycles shook the wide boulevard, the people were there too, coming out to say goodbye to a martyred protector who was also an ordinary New York woman.

A tradition at a police funeral in our city is that the legendary NYPD Pipes and Drums, making no sound but a muffled drumbeat, their instruments covered in mourning drapes, leads the procession as it leaves the church, bound for the cemetery where the hero will rest. But when they’ve keened a farewell dirge, and the procession is on its way, the band turns and parades back again, past the rows of mourners, bringing renewed spirit with them. And so they marched strong up the Concourse on that Tuesday, swagger back in their step, wailing old songs of lament and resilience—“Hard Times Come Again No More,” prays one—into the weary Bronx streets.

We prevail, the music says; death doesn’t win. We’re better because she lived, and because we knew her, and stronger for what we’ve endured.

She lived, we knew her, and we endured. Good reasons to work for a better, stronger city.

Cops: 2014 NYPD Holy Name Society Breakfast educates and uplifts

Text and photo by George Molé 

Below are the Pipes & Drums of the NYPD Emerald Society, one of the best pipe bands in the nation, arrayed this morning on Sixth Avenue, in front of the New York Hilton, for the annual NYPD Holy Name Society Mass and Breakfast.

This annual event begins with Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral, often presided over by New York's Cardinal, as it was this morning.  His Eminence, Timothy Cardinal Dolan, was his usual warm and gracious self as he acknowledged the members of the NYPD in attendance who, with their family and friends, filled much of the great cathedral.

NYPD Emerald Society Pipes & Drums

After Mass, a few blocks of Fifth and Sixth Avenues were closed to allow the entire assemblage to march from St. Pat's to the New York Hilton for breakfast, led by this very same pipe band.  Last year's Breakfast featured two amazing speakers--Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia and former Senator James Buckley--who would have been hard to top.  Nonetheless, this year's speakers were excellent, and addressed related themes.  A detective from the NYPD Cold Case Squad recounted the successful investigation into the years-old Baby Hope murder case.  And a nun from the Sisters of Life order described her group's ongoing battle against the institutionalized murder of babies through the abortion industry.  Moving, thought-provoking, uplifting, this event, almost 100 years old, always is, and was again today.

The funniest moment came from legendary talk-show host Joe Franklin, who appears at the breakfast every year, upon receiving a plaque to show the organization's appreciation.  "I'd just like to say that out of all the awards I've ever received, this one is the most recent."

And, yes, whenever I attend this event, I can't help but remember one of the greatest privileges I've yet had in life--attending in 1998 and hearing the late, great John Cardinal O'Connor incorporate into his homily at Mass an article I had written on the challenges and satisfactions of police work.  I hope to have a copy of that homily with me at the Pearly Gates, just in case there are any quibbles about my getting in--and here's the digital version.