Fighting Against Corruption

Modern police forces, such as that in New York City, are little more than a century old.

As early as 1874, the New York State legislature conducted the first investigation into the administration of New York City's police department.

Notwithstanding the youth of the department, the investigation revealed widespread corruption on the part of police officers having to do with the enforcement of laws against gambling.

One of the colorful personalities on whom the investigation focused was Captain Alexander S. Williams.

Also known as 'Clubber' Williams, his nickname deriving from the fact that he made excessive use of night stick.

Despite minor periodic exposes, police corruption continued open and unashamed until 1892, when a new brand of reformer came upon the scene. He was he Reverend Dr. Charles H. Parkhurst, sober-looking, dark-eyed, fifty-year-old pastor of the wealthy and conservative Madison Square Presbyterian Church.

One Sunday morning in February, he entered his pulpit and proceeded to denounce policemen who were in league with gamblers and prostitutes, and Tammany politicians who countenanced such conditions.

He told of a gambling house operating in the Tenderloin and boldly accused the police of receiving bribery for its protection.

Dr. Parkhurst was immediately denounced by the police, politicians, and the press. His sermon was described as 'vulgar,' 'unchristian,' and 'violently vituperative.'

Other members of the clergy suggested that, since wickedness seemed to hold such attraction for the holy man, he ought henceforth to talk about Sodom and Gomorrah.

Charles A. Dana, editor of the Sun, thought he should be driven from his pulpit. On February 23, nine days after he had spoken out, Dr. Parkhurst was hailed before the Grand Jury and told to produce proof of the charges he had made.

Since his evidence was vague and general, he was rebuked for his 'irresponsible accusations.'

A weaker man would have retired to lick his wounds, but not Dr. Parkhurst. Instead, he determined to secure the kind of firsthand knowledge at which no jury could scoff.

He hired a canny, hard-faced mustachioed private detective named Charles W. Gardner to show him the city's night life.

Dr. Parkhurst dressed in a pair of loud flannel trousers, a brown slouch hat pulled low over the right eye, and a bright scarlet neckerchief, and together with Gardner, he made the rounds of the most sordid spots in New York City, such as the Five Points, the Bowery, and Satan's Circus.

The Grand Jury, forced to recognize the validity of the new Parkhurst accusations, requested that the four commissioners of the mayor's police board and the top police brass come in and talk about the connection between the city's vice and gambling and its policemen.

Although the Grand Jury could not gather enough evidence for a single indictment, it did find that the police are either incompetent to do what is frequently done by private individuals.

With imperfect facilities for such work, otherwise there exist reasons and motives for such inaction which are illegal and corrupt.