Don’t spread it around, but, in 1979 I was a Civil Rights Observer with the Nashville police. I went out for eight-hour shifts and rode in the back of the squad car. The people the police pulled over were told that someone from Vanderbilt University was making sure that everybody’s rights were respected. I witnessed some over-the-line po-lice conduct, but I kept my cool and sense of humor and actually got, if not the officers’ respect, at least their bemused affection. And the bemused affection of the girls in Printer’s Alley, who thought I was the lamest plainclothesman in human history: “Aw, throw this one back, Carl, he still has wires on his teeth!” No lie. Perhaps the Harris Tweed jacket was the giveaway?
