danoconnell wrote:

I worked at Household Finance in Boston for about a year and a half and knew that I could never get a raise unless I moved to another company. In those days, money was negligible for young people, especially in finance. The big thing was "benefits", but, benefits don't pay the bills.
I was hired as the manger of Public Finance at Fields Corner in Dorchester. Made about another $100.00 per month.
I received a call from an friend of mine  who asked if I wanted to go to work at the Morris Plan Bank in Roslindale as Collections Manager. I was now making a huge amount of money! If I recall, about $600.00 per month. I was quickly promoted to Ass't Vice President of the bank and realized I was WAY over my head.
I didn't have an education, I was responsible for millions of dollars in investments, and was literally getting an ulcer. That's not good for a 24 year old man.
My wife and I decided to buy my "homestead" in Jefferson Shores from my parents. They gave us a great price, and we moved to protect our son and future children from having to live in a city environment. We commuted for a few months, me to Roslindale and Kris to Boston Hospital.
One morning I was home awaiting Kris's return from work, when a black unmarked police car drove into my driveway. I couldn't imagine what was wrong. I went outside, and saw "little" Mike Murphy. He was the detective on the Wareham PD and I had known him and his dad, "big" Mike Murphy all of my life.
My heart started pounding, when I saw my wife exit the rear door. She was obviously upset, yet appeared to be unhurt. She had fallen asleep at the wheel commuting home that morning, and Mike was very kind and explained that her car was wrecked but she was OK. I didn't care about the car. I damn sure didn't want to lose my wife or my son's mother.
We decided that day that she would go to Tobey Hospital to seek work. She was immediately hired (Rn's' are always in demand) and I commuted to Roslindale.
We were speaking one night at home and I told her I needed to get an education. I had checked into going to night school at Bridgewater State College. The VA would pay for my books, tuition and give me a small stipend a month under the G. I. Bill. But, I didn't know what to do for work. Kris told me she had a friend she had met at Tobey that was a Sgt. on the Wareham Police Department and he told her that with my military experience I could probably get a night shift on the Police Department.
In the meantime, he told her to invite me to go on some "ride alongs" with him to see if it was something I was interested in.
His name was Stevie Baptiste, and he is, to this day, a great man and a wonderful friend, even though I haven't seen him for years.
He was a cop's cop..a good street cop, a good teacher, my mentor and a great leader. I rode along for a couple of weeks and decided this was something I wanted to do.
I had known the Chief of Police, Freddie Besse all of my life. He was one of my father's best friends, I grew up with his kids and went to school with them. Our parents were members of the Elks Club in Wareham and as kids we would spend most of our Saturdays with the Besse kids, as well as the Darlings, Lynda Louzader, and many others that stayed and played while our folks had their activities, card games, dances, etc. at the Elks. We were always in a big room, supervised by adults, and of course came to know each other very well.
I called Fred Besse at home and told him what I was thinking of. He invited me over to his house, we sat and talked, and then he said, "I'd be happy to put you on the Department, Biffy. Just do a good job and don't embarrass me."
I promised I would, and started my career one summer night in June of 1969. I had enrolled for night classes at BSC and all seemed to be well. I was going to get the education I needed, and at the same time I would have a job I knew I was going to like.
I'll pick this up again tomorrow.
Like you, my time is limited, but I enjoy writing this story, which is unusual because I am a fiction writer. I have never liked writing in the first person, but, I am doing this because I promised myself that I could help you and others learn from history.
If I begin boring you to death, feel free to write and tell me. I won't be offended.

You always stop just when I'm thinking back, in my head of those days and those people.  Stevie hasn't changed.  Just a teeny bit older.  I remember him working as a police officer at the town hall dances we would have during the summer.  What a guy!    Freddie Besse is really missed in Onset.  I saw him every day when he would come back to Onset for the summer.  He would get teary eyed when he spoke of his wife and her illness - never his.  After she passed away he was lonely and would shake his head saying how much he missed her and how wonderful a wife she was.  The last day I saw him before he left for Florida, he said he wanted to tell me thank you for helping him through the rough times and just listening to him.  He thanked me for caring and worrying about him after a treatment (usually you wouldn't see him the next day).  He also told me good bye because he didn't think he'd be around next summer, shook my hand, winked and drove off before I had a chance to say anything to him.  He passed away in Florida and I guess he really knew that he wouldn't be back.  His spirit will always be here.

danoconnell wrote:

I was lucky enough to be with Freddie and Barbara three years ago when Barbara was close to going "home".
I missed seeing Freddie last year by about a month before he went "home".
I really believe that he was heart broken and wanted to be with Barbara.
I hope that they are enjoying themselves for eternity with no pain.
I loved them both.
Thanks bornof...

He had so many funny stories about the police dept.  He wasn't that happy with the way some things were being done here.  I think he wasn't fighting as much as he could have.  He said he was tired and he had lived a good life.