Word: sanford
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Sliced Cliché. But after all the tired titillation, freak free verse, exhausted experiment are sifted away, some gold dust and a few sizable nuggets remain. Sanford Friedman's Salamander (in New World Writing) is a sweet, sad, perceptive story of how a seven-year-old New York boy becomes a philosopher. B. H. Friedman's Whisper (in Noble Savage) is a softly sizzling portrait of the big-town big shot caught in the rat race and insisting he loves it. Joseph Kostolefsky, in the same magazine, refashions arty cliché with a lethal satire called...
...paddy-wagon crew did. If the paddy-wagon crew didn't, the guys in the jail did." There was also the profitable pastime of frisking cadavers. "On a D.O.A. [Dead on Arrival] there's always a race to get there to get the cream," Patrolman Jerry Sanford says. "All the cars go. You want to beat the medical examiner and the public administrator or they'll take it. It's bread...
WHEN I come on the department, I had no intention whatsoever of being crooked. I wouldn't have took a nickel if it was lying in front of me. I wanted to be a good cop." Unhappily for Patrolman Gerald Sanford, it was hard to be a good cop in Denver; as of last week he and 42 other policemen or former cops had been implicated in more than 200 safecrackings over the past decade, with a total take of at least $250,000. The rottenness spread beyond Denver. In suburban counties surrounding the city, sheriffs and a score...
...that prevented the honest policeman from informing on his criminal companions. The cop who reported to his superiors found himself ostracized. More often than not, he found himself stripped of privileges, walking a boondock beat-or harried out of a job. Even before he turned to active crime, Jerry Sanford investigated a supermarket safecracking, found a night stick on the floor. "I picked it up and put it in my car. I'm not going to fink...
Kids Without Standards. What most disturbed police and social workers was that so much of the current juvenile rebellion took the form of violence for its own sake. In Los Angeles last week, Gene Klossmer, 87, was treating Mrs. Edith Sanford, 70, to a ride along the street in his slow (4 m.p.h.), three-wheel electric cart, when two teen-agers in a 1951 sedan drove up behind him, gleefully pushed the unsteady cart along until it overturned. The elderly riders suffered broken bones and numerous cuts. The two youths drove on-laughing-and showed no signs of remorse when...