minor traffic violations that sort of thing.

Well, down on the Front, you'll run into all sorts of things, from rape to murder. You'll have to be on your to es at all times, ready to expect anything. Two other men will assist you and break you in. They've been on this beat for some time, and can fill you in on all of the local color. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Fine. Let' see Jenkins your shift begins at 7 P.M. and Todd will meet you here at the station and drive you down with them. Oh, yes, one more thing. Be sure you got well acquainted with all of the drinking establishments on your beat. The mayor and his clean-up committeo plan to go after the bars as soon as they wind up their indecent literature campaign. Next on their list are the 'qucer Joints,' and there are plenty of them in your territory. They seem to multiply like flies along the waterfront, and the mayor is anxious to close 'em up."

The chief glanced at the clock on the wall. "You'll have two hours before you go on shift, so I suggest you go out and get a sandwich."

The West Side waterfront was anything but a homogeneous upper-middle class neighborhood. Vacant buildings, dedaying warehouse structures, flophouses, and Gypsy dwellings in vacated store building lined the streets. In the midst of such drabness there existed a most peculiar bar, which was located on the corner of First and Journal Streets.

A hodgepodge concoction, The Cove consisted of a run-ofthe-mill tavern in the front portion of the premises, and a sort of bogus expresso coffee house in the back. The tavern was decorated in a most unimaginative and utilitarian manner, which made little difference to the clientele who frequented the place: mostly longshoremen broken-down, has-been prostitutes; and heavy drinkers about two steps removed from Skid Row. The back room served sandwiches nd coffee and attempted to cater to the beatnik trade, which was increasing steadily in the