You know, thinking back, I can't recall an unpleasant or unhelpful experience I, personally, have had with the police.

And I've known a couple of cops personally. Randy Remmon, who, when he wasn't on duty, used to hang out in Pamir House, a coffeehouse in the University District that featured folk music and where I sang a lot. Randy also played a bit of 5-string banjo. Randy's younger brother, whose name I forget, who was also in the police department. Ben Johansson, the beat cop in the University District. Cool guy.

The only time I ever saw Ben give someone a large ration of grief was when the guy pulled over on the wrong side of a busy street (right into oncoming traffic) because he spotted a parking place. Right by where Ben was standing. He got out of his car and found himself staring at a broad, blue-clad chest with a badge on it. Ben started to write him a ticket and the guy started lipping off at him. Ben gave him a long look, said nothing, but the more the guy mouthed off, the more Ben wrote. He stood there with his ticket book and wrote for hours. But the guy had really asked for it.

I think it depends a lot on a person's attitude. Dylan was cool, the cops (simply doing their job—investigating what a neighbor had reported as looking like suspicious behavior) were cool, and everything came out okay.

So what's all the fuss?

Don Firth