INTRODUCTION


It was the early 1970’s and like every good Catholic girl from the southside of Chicago, I wanted to be a teacher. In high school I barely passed Algebra or Geometry. Now, as a junior in college, I was facing the same problem………….I couldn’t pass the math refresher, let alone the two other math courses I would need to get a degree in education. Very frustrated and fairly desperate, I had a conversation with an acquaintance that would change the course of my life.

It was the winter quarter of my junior year. That’s when it was brought to my attention that a Law Enforcement major was easy. And it goes without saying, that in order to graduate in a little over a year I needed easy. My college, a state school in Illinois, had a relatively new law enforcement curriculum. So, without much enthusiasm I began taking classes in law enforcement. I soon realized that the classes were not as hard as classes in elementary education, plus they had the added bonus of being loaded with men!


And so my story begins……

I graduated college on June 16, 1973, my 22nd birthday. I was ready to be a cop! After all, a lot of the men in my extended family were cops. It seemed like a good idea to pursue a job in law enforcement just like my Grandpa, my Godfather and cousins did. Unfortunately, not many police agencies were ready for women cops. I had already taken the POLICE WOMAN test for Chicago Police Department. I was around 1000 on the list. (The list ultimately was thrown out and subject to legal action). But I needed a job NOW! So off I went to find a police job.

My first stop was a southside security force that patrolled the area of my parent’s condo and the adjoining shopping center. I met with the Chief and was promptly informed “We don’t hire women, honey”. Oh well, I didn’t want to work there anyway. It wasn’t, after all, a real police department.

Next stop THE FBI. There I was told that I was too short. My 5’3” body was 4 inches too short to be an FBI agent. OK. Those were the rules! I never thought about questioning the RULES. After all, the RULES had been working for years. Who was I to question why these rules were in place.

I was off again, this time to the western suburbs to a local police agency. There I was tall enough to be a meter maid but not tall enough to be a cop. That wasn’t the job I was looking for. However, the Chief was very nice and suggested that I apply to the U.S. Marshall’s Service because they were hiring and as a woman, it didn’t matter how tall you were.

I went home and requested applications from the U.S. Marshall’s Service and the Illinois Bureau of Investigation. I sent both applications into the respective agencies and then I went looking for a job.

My first stop was a private security agency that did luggage screening at O’Hare Airport in Chicago. When I walked into the firm’s office, a high school friend was the receptionist. I filled out an application and a few days later I went to work on the 6a.m. to 2pm. shift wielding a metal detector wand. I got up at 4a.m. every morning and drove from the southside of Chicago to O’Hare Field. I was only allowed to work the wand because I was the new guy on the job. It wasn’t my dream job but it paid the bills while I looked around for something else.

A short time later I went to work at a famous polygraph examiners office in Chicago. It was the worst job I ever had. It was time to keep looking.

My next stop was a major retailer in the Chicago area. I went to work as a store security officer. This was also my first glance at inequity in the work force. I was a female, full time employee. My associate was a part time, male employee. Guess who had a higher hourly salary? That’s right. Not me. After a month or so the boss called me in and gave me a raise. I was now making as much as every man who started at the same time I did.
I worked hard. One Sunday afternoon I got a black eye trying to detain a teenage female shoplifter. The only thing about the black eye that scared me was going home and having my parents see it. I went over to my girlfriends house and her Mom gave me a piece of frozen beef to put on my eye so the swelling would go down before I went home. The bosses told me they didn’t expect me to come back after that. But I did. In six months I was promoted to security manager at their store in Munster, Indiana.

I worked day and night at the Munster store. I wanted to do a great job and show everyone that I could do this kind of work. I made some friends and settled in to an apartment close to the store. I thought this would be the beginning of a great career. And it would have been, except for one thing. In September of 1974, the Illinois Bureau of Investigation and the U.S. Marshall’s Service both offered me a job within hours of each other.

I chose my employer strictly by salary considerations. On the last Sunday of September 1974 I reported to the Illinois State Police Academy in Springfield, Illinois to be trained as an IBI (Illinois Bureau of Investigation) agent.









CHAPTER ONE

The week before I entered the Illinois State Police Academy had been a week of decision making and some hard feelings. First, I notified my current employer that I would be leaving. I did not have the luxury of two weeks notice since I hadn’t been given that much time between the call from the IBI to hire me and the date I was to report to the Illinois State Police Academy. My current boss couldn’t believe I would do this to THEM. They knew I wanted to be a police officer and that I had applications in at different departments. But when the time actually came for me to leave they weren’t very happy with me or my short notice. They gave me a “do not rehire” status on my personnel file. They explained that was standard procedure for someone who left the company. I hated to leave on such a sour note. But I needed to pursue the career I thought would be right for me. I ultimately had the last laugh. The company went bankrupt a few years later.

I had also been deathly sick the week before I started the academy. I was too sick to attend my college girlfriends wedding. I was too sick to go to work. I was too sick to lie down because my throat would close and I couldn’t breathe. I was supposed to be in another college roommates wedding the same day I was to report to the Academy. I still needed to have my shoes dyed to match my dress. I needed to sublet my apartment since I couldn’t work for an Illinois Governmental Agency and live in Indiana. Some things could be taken care of before I left. But some things would just have to wait. Thankfully, I had a number of friends who pitched in to help me out with the things that could be done.

As it turned out, I couldn’t stand up in my roommates wedding because the wedding was at the same time I needed to report to the Academy. I gave my dress and shoes to another friend of the brides who would take my place in the wedding. That was the last time I ever spoke with my friend. I know she was angry and hurt but I felt I had to make this choice. To this day I know I made the only choice I could but I still feel terrible about letting her down.

On the last Sunday of September 1974 at approximately 3:00 pm. I pulled into the Illinois State Police Academy barracks in Springfield, Illinois. There were a number of other anxiety ridden candidates reporting at the same time. I got in line and when it was my turn a blustery State Trooper and an IBI agent asked for my name and the paperwork I had been instructed to bring with me. They gave me my room assignment, which was one of the dorms on the second floor. They informed me of the dinnertime in the cafeteria and of the time, later that evening, for the first assembly of IBI Cadet Class, NAC 7-74.

I gathered my belongings from the car and proceeded to the second floor women’s dorm. There were three other women in the room. I was the last to arrive. We would be the only women in this class. We would also be the FIRST women cadets to pass through the hallowed halls of the Illinois State Police Academy.

Two of the women, Diane and Nancy were from central Illinois. The other, Susie was from Princeton. I couldn’t believe Susie was in this class, too. She and I had attended the same college. And though we weren’t friends, we were acquaintances from college law enforcement classes. It was wonderful to have a friend, already, at such a bewildering time of my life. We all unpacked and got acquainted with each other. We would be spending 24 hours a day, five days a week together until January 13, 1975 when we would graduate and be sworn in as police officers in the State of Illinois.

And so it was on that Sunday in 1974 that 23 recruits began their IBI training. We were a minority class of Hispanics, Blacks, Caucasians and Women. We would learn a lot over the coming months. But mostly we would learn how to rely on each other to make it to the end.


CHAPTER TWO

The Illinois Bureau of Investigation was an investigative resource for Illinois law enforcement. The IBI had fewer than 200 agents statewide. Their mission was compact.
There were four specialized fields for agents: Covert Narcotics Investigation, Organized Crime, Race Track and Financial Crime. The two main offices were in Springfield and Chicago with several smaller Resident Offices scattered throughout the state. When a person entered into the academy they had no idea where they would be assigned or what their specialty would be. It was pretty much assumed that a female would work covert narcotics and fill in anywhere else she may be needed. Which office an agent would be assigned to was never revealed until the near end of training. In 1975 females were relatively new to the law enforcement community. Therefore, women could and would be given assignments to infiltrate situations were a male officer would be “made” (suspected of being a police officer.)

Our first group assembly was an orientation for us so we would have some idea what we could expect over the next several months. We entered the classroom and our nameplates were on the desks and in no particular order. First, we were given the RULES. We could not leave the academy until we earned Liberty as a class. When we earned Liberty we could leave in the evenings as long as we were back by curfew. We would be in class every morning at 8a.m. wide awake and clear headed. We would be released for lunch in the cafeteria from noon to 1p.m. We would then head back to the classroom until 5p.m. We would have two breaks a day at the discretion of the instructor. During the course of the day we would have Physical Fitness training that consisted of running long distances and hearty exercising including boxing and defensive tactics. We would be given homework and needed to study in order to pass the required tests. There would be a term paper. On Fridays we would be released around noon to travel home and we were to return on Monday morning prior to lunch. There would be no food or beverage in the dorm room. Any infraction of these rules would result in the punishment of the entire class and not just the violator.

It seemed a bit overwhelming. There was so much to learn and so many new rules. But Class NAC 7-74 would be no ordinary class. We broke the rules with regularity. We received Liberty early on in our training. Then our trainers taught us how to violate curfew without punishment. Physical Fitness training was more of an elective than a requirement. The only requirement was that you show up and make an effort. And as far as food in the room was concerned…….well, they showed us they meant business with that rule. One of the men in the class brought in apples and then forgot to remove them on Friday so they spoiled over the weekend. On that Monday when the class returned we learned of the infraction. As a group punishment our class was extended two weeks.

After the RULES were explained, everyone in the class had an opportunity to introduce themselves to the group. Some of the group had a sense of humor with their introductions. The shortest guy in the class stood up and said he had been a professional basketball player prior to entering the academy. Most of us were too scared to say much so we just hit the basics and sat down. We were also told we would have to elect a class president in the near future. Then we were dismissed until the next morning at 8a.m.

Soon thereafter, we elected a class president. We elected a Hispanic guy who had a little trouble with the English language. He was a great guy but no one could understand him and he had considerable trouble reading and writing in English. Eventually he stepped down and one of the white males, specifically, the ex-basketball player, was elected to the position.


On our very first Monday morning everyone arrived to class on time filled with anticipation. We were told about the term paper we were to write and briefed more in depth on what we would be taught in the upcoming months.

We were told we would learn a significant amount about the law and court procedures. We would have a long block of study in undercover operations where we would be roll playing. We would be taught about organized crime and Illinois law enforcement’s responsibilities to the Illinois Racing Board.

The weeks went by and by the third week we had gained Liberty as a class. The best part of Liberty was that we could go out to eat. The food at the Academy was not very good and in a few short weeks most of us were putting on weight despite our physical training. I think we all knew just how bad the food was when, one evening, we saw a horrible sight at the plate return line. This particular night we had chicken for dinner. As we put our trays on the plate return the cook was standing there picking left over chicken off the bone. My first thought was that would be a nice treat for her dog. You can imagine how surprised I was when the next day at lunch we had chicken soup.

As the weeks passed the term paper deadline got closer. I had become friends with the Hispanic guy who couldn’t do much with the English language. As it turned out I basically wrote his term paper and then did my own. I didn’t mind doing it since the class was all for one and one for all. But I barely got my paper done and if my memory serves me correctly, he got a higher grade than I did.

With liberty allowed we found a number of local watering holes. We had a curfew and if we missed the curfew the doors of the Academy were locked. There was a keypad code which would let you in but we were not privy to the code. The only ones who knew the code were the instructors and the Academy staff. After a few close curfew calls we learned the safest way to handle liberty was to go out with the instructors. I can recall more than once being very concerned because we returned to the Academy so late. I didn’t want to be dismissed and I am one who always follows the rules. So, I learned quickly to choose carefully who I went out with (the class president was a good choice and so were out of town instructors). I also learned not only were we the first class of women to enter the Springfield Academy, we were the first class of IBI recruits to utilize the facility. The IBI was viewed as the wicked stepchild of Illinois law enforcement by the state troopers. It became apparent they didn’t care what we did or when we did it, as long as they weren’t involved. (In 1977 the IBI and the Illinois State Police merged into one organization, the Illinois State Police. The animosity between the two still exists to this day. There a just a few IBI turned ISP agents left among the ranks.)

Fall turned to winter. During these months our covert role playing began. Each member of the class was given an assignment. You were an undercover operative, a surveillance agent on the inside or a surveillance agent on the outside. The drug dealers were played by more experienced and tenured agents. We were also given an informant, played by a seasoned drug agent. In pairs we were told to debrief the informant and gather information that would be useful in the upcoming role playing scenario.

The scenario was played out at a local pizza and beer parlor. The first night we played by the rules. Each of us had an assignment and we followed our loosely scripted role. That evening I was an outside surveillance agent. We arrived at the location at the appointed time and took our positions. We watched as the undercover officer arrived. Then the informant along with the drug dealer arrived sometime later. As we were being taught, no “deal” ever goes according to plans. After several hours the informant and drug dealer left the location. A short time later the undercover agent departed and informed surveillance units that the drug purchase would not happen until the following evening.

The next day the class huddled together to see what surprises we could muster up for that evenings’ undercover operation. A couple of the guys in the class were regulars at the pizza parlor. At the end of the last evenings’ undercover project they made arrangements with the manager of the pizza parlor to be bartenders for this evenings’ events. A number of assignments were changed and today I was an inside surveillance agent.

The scenario for the evening was the same as the last. However, when our instructors entered the pizza parlor, they were shocked (and dismayed) to see members of our class serving beers to the clientele. The operation went smoothly and the drug purchase went according to plan. However, the next day would be anything but smooth sailing for IBI Class 7-74.

The next morning we gathered in the classroom. The entire class was pretty smug because we “got one over” on our instructors who were seasoned drug agents. We all sat there waiting for compliments about how imaginative we were. It was Friday and we were to be released at noon for the weekend. The instructors arrived in the classroom and proceeded to read us the riot act. They gave us a hundred reasons why our imaginative surveillance scenario was a bad idea. We got the “Who do you think you are?” talk. They told us we were just recruits and if it was up to them we’d all be fired. They said, “If you can’t follow directions now……” what could they expect from us later. For over two hours we got a severe dressing down. Then one of the recruits had the nerve to raise his hand and ask why we weren’t getting any credit for using our imagination to get inside and have a birds’ eye view for the surveillance. You can’t imagine how well that was received by our instructors. We were released for lunch and told to return to the classroom. When we returned the instructors were gone and the class counselor tried to explain to us why they were so upset with us. We didn’t understand.

We were released for the weekend and as a class we were pretty down in the dumps. The worst part was a number of us would be working with these two agents in a few short months. We wondered………if they feel this way about us now, what would happen when the scenario is real and our lives were on the line.

We returned on Monday waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, we were extended for two weeks for “apples in the locker”. How much longer could they extend us now, we wondered. Could we be IBI Class 7-74 and graduate in 1976? The incident, as it turned out was over, but never forgotten. We didn’t get extended for any additional weeks of training. We were just watched more closely to assure we behaved ourselves.

Another one of our learning blocks would be defensive driving. This block consisted of going out to a driving track and surviving simulated maneuvers. The course was taught by seasoned State Troopers whose affinity for us was well known. We were divided into groups of two or three and assigned to a trooper who would serve as our instructor for the course. One of the vehicles being used was a purple Dodge Challenger with a stick shift. Now, we all know “girls” don’t drive sticks. However, this girl did. When I was assigned the Challenger I was excited. The instructor however, felt one of the guys should have that car. I ended up driving the Challenger but paid for it when I was put through the paces.

The cars were “tricked out” so an instructor could put you into a skid, pop the hood so you couldn’t see and other similar things that would throw you for a loop. The track was also wet and rough to simulate driving conditions you would encounter on the job. At first, I was a mess. I had to drive the stick shift without hesitation, I had to do a good job so I would pass and I had to look out for the orange cones. I remember having a lot of trouble backing up at a fast speed and maneuvering the car to a forward facing position. It was all very stressful considering we were the first group of women who passed through the hallowed halls and the consensus was we didn’t belong in this profession. After a week of driving we somehow, all passed. (It was becoming painfully obvious to us that no matter what our skill level was, the ISP didn’t care. We were the IBI and not the ISP, so the plan was to just graduate us and get us out of there.) At the end of the driving course I was awarded a crumpled and damaged orange cone… the one I ran over too many times to count. I carried that cone in the back seat of my personal car for a long time to remind myself of a lot of challenges I was able to meet.

As part of our training we were required to undergo a complete physical by the Departments doctor. For the four women, a complete physical included a pap smear. One morning we were all transported to a facility in Springfield to complete this component of our academy life.

One by one we were taken into an examining room and told to undress. The room had no curtains or blinds on the windows. If you looked out you could see everything. So, conversely if someone looked in they could see you. I remember an old doctor coming in and conducting the exam. For me, it was my first pap smear. I remember thinking, “this can’t be what happens at a gynecologists’ office”. After all of us were done we discussed the entire process and questioned why an independent doctor had to do an exam such as this when we were required to have an exam by our family physician before we reported for training. In retrospect, I’m still not sure why this exam took place. But again, we all passed.

When I Grow Up..................

This blog is about being one of the first police women in the Illinois State Police. I was hired by the Illinois Bureau of Investigation in 1974 after trying for over a year to find a police job that would hire a 5'3" female. In the late 70's the IBI and ISP merged. This is my story of life and times in the policing field.