The Gray Patrol : Their Fingers May Be a Little Stiff but They’re Nimble Enough to Write Tickets--Lots of Them

They spend their day cruising the streets of San Clemente in a marked patrol car, looking for parking violators, expired license plates and abandoned cars.

They are easily recognizable in their crisp blue uniforms and shiny badges. But don’t mistake them for real police officers. They are senior citizens--and the only weapon they carry is a two-way radio.

Don’t let their gray hair fool you, either. This tough squad of law enforcers has declared war on graffiti, on motorists who park illegally in handicapped zones and on drivers who fail to renew their vehicle registration on time. Few in this coastal city of 35,000 residents dare to violate even the tiniest of laws when this crew is on duty.

Twenty-one men and women ranging from their mid-50s to late 70s participate in the San Clemente Police Department’s Retired Senior Volunteer Program (R.S.V.P.), which began in 1985 at a time the Police Department was suffering a severe budget crunch.

“We had to come up with innovative ways to maintain service to the community. We now have volunteers doing some duties sworn officers once did,” said Lt. Steve Bernardi, who administers the program for the Police Department. “And it has helped us maintain services that we otherwise would not have been able to (provide).

“We look for retired seniors who are active and still have a lot to give to the community,” Bernardi said. “They live in the community and care about the community, and they are real eager and enthusiastic about it.”

The volunteer program was patterned loosely after one in Ventura County. But in San Clemente, it is affiliated with the Volunteer Center of South Orange County, which operates a chapter of the nationwide R.S.V.P organization.

The Police Department budgets $5,000 a year for the program, and the R.S.V.P. chapter, which is based in Santa Ana, provides insurance coverage and reimbursements for some expenses incurred by the volunteers on the job.

“We do things the police officers should be doing but don’t have time to do. They’ve got more important things to do, so we fill in the little corners,” said Leon Aldrich, 72, one of the original members of the group. “It’s nothing spectacular, but it protects the citizens.”

In the course of a day, these seniors may issue more than 50 traffic citations. They also check homes while residents are away on vacation, rescue children from locked cars and visit elderly people who live alone--jobs the 46 police officers rarely have time for.

Some of the volunteers work in clerical positions in the department’s records section or in the crime prevention unit.

All the volunteers work at least one six-hour shift a week, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Saturday. Since the program began, they have volunteered more than 11,000 hours of service. That represents savings of more than $300,000 when computed on an average police officer’s salary, Bernardi said.

During one recent shift, Peggy Bradfield and her partner, Bill Walsh--the group’s coordinator--visited elderly residents in San Clemente, a service they perform daily. It wasn’t much more than sitting and chatting, but the 10-minute visit meant a lot to 80-year-old Maxine Dean.

“There aren’t many places where police take interest in the elderly,” said Dean, who was recovering from a recent fall. “I live alone, and I look forward to these visits. I am very grateful that they call me every day and come to see me.”

The R.S.V.P. members are dedicated, hard-working super-achievers, people who never considered retiring to a life of mediocrity or boredom.

Bradfield, 63, was a collection investigator for Los Angeles County for 16 years. Three years before retiring, she worked eight to 10 hours a day as a division chief. She moved to San Clemente two years ago so she could be near the ocean, but she never intended to stop working.

“I’ve seen so many people retire and what do they do?” she asked. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world to volunteer. I don’t want to work for money. After all those years I had to be there, it’s good to know you don’t have to anymore.”

Only the fittest and the most dedicated need apply for the job. Each applicant undergoes thorough medical and security screenings and must pass a defensive driving test. More important, they must have a pleasant personality and get along well with others.

“We’re not looking for any gung-ho types. We want people who are cool and level-headed,” said Walsh, 63, a former Burbank elementary school principal. “We once turned down an 80-year-old because he was too opinionated. We felt he might end up in a confrontation and wouldn’t benefit himself, the community or our group.”

That’s one of the first things they learn: avoid confrontation. Since they don’t carry guns, these senior citizens are instructed to stay away from potentially dangerous situations and to radio for assistance if they run into trouble. But sometimes confrontations do occur.

Bradfield was confronted recently by one man as she placed a ticket on his car for failure to display a special parking sticker.

“I’m getting tired of you people coming around writing tickets for people who live here,” the man told Bradfield. “Why don’t you write on some of this junk that doesn’t belong here?”

She remained calm and explained to the visibly disturbed man that he would not have to pay the $30 fine if he would get a valid sticker within 30 days. Still fuming, the man turned heel and went back to his apartment. But Bradfield didn’t have to call for backup.

To make sure no one mistakes them for the real McCoy, they wear light blue shirts and navy trousers, easily distinguishable from the khaki uniforms worn by police officers. The label “volunteer” is printed clearly on their badge and patches, as well as in large letters on their blue-and-white patrol car.

It’s a car without flashing lights or sirens. But it does have a dispatch radio, and the senior volunteers also carry a portable radio with them at all times.

“We stress that they are not police officers, and we don’t expect them to act like police officers,” Bernardi said. “If they see something, they should call it in and an officer will respond. Sometimes there is a lot of enthusiasm among the volunteers and it’s hard to hold back. It’s frustrating for them because they see so many things they can’t take action on.”

The volunteers realize very well the potential for danger, but they prefer not to dwell on it.

“We are careful where we go with our uniforms on. We don’t go into banks or supermarkets or liquor stores because we never know what kind of situation we could walk into there,” said Bruce Winther, 68. “Sometimes there are confrontations when people get a little upset, and we take a little abuse. But if it gets too nasty, all we have to do is push the button on the radio and a police officer is there.”

The fact that they don’t carry weapons can work to their advantage, they said.

“I never think about the danger, and I don’t think any of us really do, consciously,” said Blanche Reed, 61, a retired property manager. “Police have to carry guns, but when people see us without guns, it’s like reinforcing an old value. I grew up during a time that when you needed help you went to a policeman. Maybe we will be an extension of that in time to come.”

These seniors are highly visible and well-respected in the community, and citizens often pull them aside to ask for assistance or to report a problem. The hardest part, though, was earning the respect of police officers.

In the beginning, Bernardi said, police officers were apprehensive about the program because they didn’t know what to expect. Over the years, that attitude changed and R.S.V.P. has become a vital part of the department.

“They do a lot of things we don’t have time to do and it takes the work load off the patrols,” said officer Tom Haight, 41, a 17-year veteran of the force. “The more people we have on the street and the more eyes we have out there, the better.”

Some of the seniors admit they, themselves, may not be the easiest people to work with.

“Some of them had a paternalistic attitude toward us because of our age,” Aldrich recalled. “But we tend to be up-steppers. We don’t necessarily follow the lines of command. This upsets them occasionally, but it doesn’t bother me. What can they do, fire us?

“We do a good job and we enjoy it. That’s the attitude most of us have.”

Yet no one could accuse them of not taking their job seriously.

Last year, all told, they wrote 230 traffic citations that could net $2,600 in revenues, and 219 citations for violating the handicapped zone, which could bring in another $11,388. They also wrote 458 citations for improper vehicle registration, which could tally another $30 each if not taken care of within 30 days.

“We’ve been harassing people for two years now. They finally learned not to park in a handicapped zone before 3 p.m.,” Aldrich said. “When we first started, we could write 10 or 12 citations a shift with no effort. Now we have to hunt for them. To us, this is evidence of our success.”

When it comes to writing citations, nobody can beat Jim Lusk and his partner, Norm McIntosh.

In January, the pair broke their own record of 82 citations in one day when they ticketed 93 in one shift.

“We start out early in the morning and we usually eat lunch as we drive. Jim drives and I sit there with the book in my lap, and I write citations as fast as I can,” said McIntosh, 65.

They are real sticklers for the letter of the law.

“We are both convinced that the failure to license your vehicle in California is something that should be really enforced,” McIntosh said. “You have to pay your dues like everyone else.”

Lusk, 58, spends about three weeks a month in San Clemente and the rest of the time in Raymond, Calif., in the Central Valley, where he runs a tool sale and manufacturing company. He also finds time to work as a reserve deputy for the Madera County Sheriff’s Department.

“I almost joined the Los Angeles Police Department several years ago (in 1954), but they weren’t paying enough money, so I started my own business. It’s harder doing this than my own job,” Lusk said, referring to R.S.V.P.

To Lusk, though, it is a labor of love.

“I never had much time when I was younger; I was always busy. Any way I can donate time back to the area I live in is a gesture of being a good citizen,” he said. “I enjoy doing it and it’s something that is needed.”

Checking vacant houses and issuing citations may not be the most glamorous work. In fact, it could be considered menial by comparison to jobs these seniors held before retiring.

Aldrich, a former construction engineer for Bechtel Corp., traveled throughout the world designing nuclear power plants. Walsh was an elementary school principal in Los Angeles, and McIntosh was a credit collector and administrator of the federal Head Start program in Idaho.

“This is nothing spectacular. It’s routine and it gets boring. I can’t think of a darn good reason I do it,” said Aldrich, one of the original members of the group. “I have to get up at 6:30 in the morning and that’s a pain in the butt. I’m retired, I shouldn’t have to do that.”

Despite the grumbling, Aldrich, like most of the others, does it because it has given new meaning to his life and it makes him feel useful.

“It gives you a feeling of satisfaction that you’ve been able to help somebody,” Reed said. “Each day is interesting if it’s not tremendously outstanding. Every time someone smiles at you and says, ‘A job well-done,’ it becomes a rewarding day.”