I have read a lot about alleged police brutality, unkind policemen and more. However, I would like to enlighten the public what it was like growing up with a policeman in the family.
My dad, the late W. Robert Thayer Sr., was a Hatfield policeman for 17 years, and before that he was a civil patrol townsperson during World War II. As a civil patrol person, he was on duty and watching the “Little School House/Bradstreet School” at night while the women (my mother included) were inside rolling bandages for the Red Cross. He was responsible for putting black cloth over the windows.
He was a large man, but a kind person who was well respected in the community. For me, on the lighter side, it was a crimp in my social life.
Dad was requested at many functions in town and it seemed that there was mutual interaction. The town police chief found him dependable and knowledgeable when a confrontation presented itself. Yes, he was injured by an unruly person at a bar who sliced dad’s hand with a broken beer bottle. He kept his cool and escorted the gentleman to the bar room door. He intercepted an egg-throwing party at the same bar room. I met the gentleman who sliced dad’s hand several years ago and he related that dad was justified in asking him to leave.
Dad was on duty as traffic control officer while Interstate 91 was being built. In order to do this, he had to get up 4 a.m., milk 26 cows, come home for lunch, return to work by 1 p.m. and stay on that job until 5 p.m. Then he came home to milk the 26 cows again. When our cucumber crop was ready to harvest, he also drove a truckload of cukes to the pickle factory, where he was rushed through so he could be back on duty. He was still dressed in his uniform.
There were many basketball games where he was on duty, especially the balcony area. He could keep the peace when needed. I think just his size was enough and the respect he had gained over the years. I never went to the games.
One day in particular was when the town got the new cruiser and the chief and dad took it for a spin. Dad being used to driving Farm Alls and trucks with no power steering or brakes found it a challenge to drive the cruiser. Both men also found out many wires were really crossed in the cruiser and it was difficult to turn on the lights, siren, etc. It was like watching a bucking bronco go down the street when they applied the brakes! Neither got whiplash.
When dad underwent back-to-back cancer operations, there were 35 Hatfield people signed up for blood donations. It was overwhelming that one man could draw that amount of attention. The family was grateful.
Dad loved to march in the parades — Holyoke St. Patrick’s Day was one to remember. There was one very cold day in particular — he gave his heavy coat to the Hatfield queen — she didn’t bring a coat. On another parade tour, we had car trouble and he started to adjust the car with his clean white gloves on. Mom had a slight bird. She had washed and pressed his uniform, including his gloves.
His grandchildren got to see their “Poppy” in action at different parades, as well as at his “Poppy Thayer Fishing Derby,” however, they also saw the lighter side of him. For example, he would pretend to be asleep while the girls put rollers in his hair. He played Santa’s helper many times. There was one parade which occurred after his death. The Hatfield Fish and Game float was built to resemble the woods and a fishing pool —Dad had been instrumental in the fishing derby. The sight of the float and what he loved and did just buckled my mother’s and my knees and brought tears to our eyes.
One of Mom’s comical stories was when he got an accident call in the middle of the night. He had worked all day on the farm and was quite tired. As she relates he put on his farmer bib overalls, his police hat and pinned his badge on the overalls. There was some discussion about his attire when he got up in the morning. His answer was he needed to be at the accident scene as soon as possible. We could only imagine he portrayed in his “Zeke Wolf” attire and police hat.
Although none of us went on to be a policeman or police women, he had our respect from day one. You didn’t lie about anything because he would find you out. You didn’t fool around with the car when you got your license. There were many things that were “just understood.” It’s different today, unfortunately. Also, being farmer’s kids, we never had the time to “push his buttons.”
Yes, there were times when we afraid for him, but he always came home. There are policemen/policewomen who do not make it home and my heart goes to their families. Other issues of bad scenes I cannot understand. But understand our family was proud of him and his service.
Ruth (Thayer) Leahey lives in Whately. She is a former correspondent for the Gazette from 1974-1977 under the name Ruth Mills.