Tuesday, October 24, 2017

The Bloody Badge by Sloan K. Rodgers




A little over a century ago, the changing Fort Worth Police Department adopted a new and distinctive uniform badge. This symbol of office has a so-called panther or cougar surmounting a shield with a different numerical designation for each badge. Legend has it that the addition of this Texas wild cat commemorates an 1875 incident where a panther was seen running around town or sleeping in front of the old Tarrant County courthouse. The panther design concept was submitted by city electrician Joseph Wright and created by the C. N. Amesbury Company of Attelboro, Massachusetts. A hundred police officer badges and twelve similar detective shields were forged in German silver and given a nickel-plated coat. The new panther badges were issued on Sunday June 9, 1912, although some officers wanted to hang onto their old eagle-topped shields. One stubborn cop that simply went by the name Tom continued to wear his eagle-crested and battle-tested badge. Tom wasn’t just any police officer and his badge wasn’t just any shield.

Tom wore the Fort Worth Police Department’s infamous Badge #13, which was long denounced as the bloody badge by superstitious officers and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram newspaper. Many North Americans once believed that thirteen was a hoodoo or unlucky number. Since the 1891 issuance of the eagle badges, a few Fort Worth policemen had been killed or wounded by various suspects while this badge was pinned to their blue-uniformed chests. Mixed-race officer, Lee Waller, was the first victim in 1892. 


Officer Lee Waller

Some thought that Waller’s killer had placed an African curse on Badge #13 from death row. Over the years many officers refused to wear the badge and it was retired after a 1902 officer slaying. The police commission attempted to reissue Badge #13 in 1904 and 1909 however officer complaints shelved the idea. Tom was just a big street tough when he boldly marched into new police chief, June Polk’s central station office in May 1910 and applied for a recent vacancy. Astonished, Chief Polk had extreme reservations about hiring such an applicant. The crusty, but less prejudiced, Day Desk Sergeant Charles W. Newby ignored his commander’s view on Tom’s appearance. He immediately hired Tom and briefly took the rookie under his wing. Sergeant Newby was an old-school lawman from the vile Hell’s Half Acre district of the city. In one police station incident Sergeant Newby snatched a pistol away from threatening Texas Ranger J. M. “Grude” Britton.

As an untested and atypical patrol officer, Sergeant Newby sent Tom to Night Desk Sergeant George Almeras’ graveyard shift. Almeras was a slightly superstitious man, who reluctantly wore hoodoo Badge #23, which was a less deadly shield. Tom got to work walking a gas-lit beat around the dark castle-like city hall, central station and jail. Tom was not issued a weapon, but being larger, stronger and faster than most of his adversaries, he did not need one. Every Fort Worth officer’s idol was famed City Marshal and gunfighter Longhair Jim Courtright, who began his law enforcement career in the jail.

Tom quickly proved his mettle and earned his shield by catching and running off late-night trespassers. Tom allegedly killed some ner'er-do-wells in the shadow of the county courthouse, but documentation is vague. He was more publicly known about town for his daytime pranks and periodic disappearances than his meager arrest record. 



Tarrant County Courthouse


In 1911, Tom absconded again and his brother officers, fearing the worst, conducted a city-wide search for the wandering night watchman. A few days later, a worker found the top cop sleeping high above everyone in the city hall clock tower. As usual Tom did not explain why he climbed the ladder to the clock-less cupola and spent three long days without food or water. No longer above the law, Tom showed up at the next roll call. The meeting nearly broke up with the excitement of seeing the bearer of the bloody badge in good health. The hungry officer was given a hearty breakfast in celebration of his reunion with the fraternity of lawmen. The chief even declined to reprimand the officer for his odd behavior and absence.




One of Tom’s daytime pranks did backfire. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and the matron of the women’s jail, Olive Hargraves had stepped out of her office without her keys. Tom decided to teach the forgetful turnkey a lesson on security as she walked down the long corridor. Tom pushed a door closed behind her, thus locking Mrs. Hargraves in the hallway. The irate matron was trapped for two hours while officers combed the city for the janitor with the only other set of women’s jail keys. Sergeant Newby and Tom’s other friends tried to protect him from criticism, but the story eventually broke in the newspaper. Mrs. Hargraves was a stern, but motherly widow, so on this occasion, the press, public and even some officers were not amused by the impractical joke. 



  Tom disappeared for the last time on July 18, 1912, but this time his fellow police officers attributed his absence to foul play and the deadly history of his badge. They lamented that the night officer seldom missed a morning roll call or breakfast in the main hall and was the friend to every man on the force. Three weeks later, Tom was still gone, but not forgotten when the Star-Telegram ran one of its last articles on the missing officer. The headline read: “Hoodoo Badge 13 Proves Jinx Even Upon Black Cat”. The article left no doubt that everyone blamed Badge #13, pinned to Tom’s collar, for the mysterious disappearance of their beloved mascot. On first meeting Tom, Chief Polk had believed that black cats were cursed, but other peace officers thought they had the magical ability to cancel out unlucky numbers. The newspaper reporter went on to imply that Tom would be the last officer issued a Badge #13, especially the big house cat’s shield since it still had not been returned to the central station or jail. A hook and ladder man with a nearby fire station tried to assuage the grief of the mourning lawmen by suggesting that the tom cat eloped in a heat with their missing fire cat.


As Fort Worth police mascots go, Tom was unmatched in catching rats and purging pigeons from city hall square. Despite Tom’s periodic pranks, he was a cherished officer in the brotherhood of the badge. For a long time he was sorely missed by the boys in blue, but nine months later, Tom was finally replaced by a scruffy white fox terrier. The law dog had neither the size, color, or character of the police cat, but the desk sergeant reluctantly adopted him and nostalgically named him Tommy. In 1913, the new mascot was settled into his position, when an old copper badge turned up like a bad penny. Strangely, Badge #13 resurfaced in the Tarrant County Humane Society, although it’s unlikely that Tom was ever an unrecognized or unwanted inmate. When Humane Society Secretary Zoe Mestralett was appointed a special police officer to handle animal related cases for the city, she pinned on the once lost shield. With a shortage of panther badges, special officers were allowed to wear old eagle badges. Officer Mestralett only wore Badge #13 for a year. She suddenly resigned from the Humane Society and police force in 1914 with a terse letter and no explanation. Did something happen that caused Mestralett to abruptly resign two coveted jobs and return her storied badge to the central station in a sealed envelope? Regardless, Badge #13 has not been seen since and is possibly hidden away in some dark police vault- away from future victims.

So far as the snarling feline displayed by Fort Worth’s Finest, perhaps this singular motif among American police badges honors a brave black cat that was protecting the city when the shield was created. Not a dozing or fleeing yellow panther from a 37 year old tall tale. Ironically, a bronze statue of a lazy panther fronts the Tarrant County Administration Building, while Tom’s service, like the sacrifice of many slain police officers was almost forgotten in old newspapers.



(In memory of my unlucky cat Moocher, R.I.P.)



Bibliography:

December 12, 1911 Fort Worth Star-Telegram, August 8, 1912 Fort Worth Star-Telegram and various other newspaper sources.