his is not to say that Greenpoint has yet reached that golden goal of Brooklyn real estate forces, referred to locally and with hushed reverence as “the new Park Slope.” For every warehouse that has been turned into a loft and for every smart-sounding boutique on Manhattan Avenue, there are still long blocks of gasworks and plants that evoke the area’s century-old industrial history.And midway between the blue collars of yesterday and the chic jeans of tomorrow there is arguably the liveliest Polish community east of Chicago and the Midwest. But nobody has to guess twice about what is coming — not with all those serene views of the East River and the Manhattan skyline and the constant hammering, sawing, and bulldozing to be encountered on just about any block within the 94’s 2.34 square miles. When residents talk about c-o-o-p, they don’t mean a place where pigeons are kept. As Becerril’s partner, Norberto Rivera, puts it: “In a few years you might have to remind people this used to be an industrial zone.”

One of the smallest commands in Brooklyn with fewer than 100 officers, the 94 is not exactly a vacation spot, with burglaries rivaling auto rip-offs at a fairly steady rate. And while drugs are as invisible a problem as can be plausible in a 21st-century metropolis, there is alcohol, especially the colorless variety preferred in places like Warsaw. “We’re probably up there in drunkenness complaints,” Rivera admits. “Whether it’s the quality of life stuff like pissing on the street or the bad scenes at home with husbands getting a few in them and going after their wives or kids. You really can’t tell the victim of some drunken beating she’s better off because nobody’s out on the corner selling coke or crack.”

There are also periodic reminders that Greenpoint’s growing attractiveness to young couples and the Wall Street spreadsheet experts who like to think of themselves as swingers brings its own kind of baggage. One of the bigger valises arrived at the beginning of February, when a Green Street warehouse used as a recording studio was the scene for the fatal shooting of a bodyguard of rapper Busta Rhymes.

The scarcity of white powder in the neighborhood hasn’t completely discouraged other highs of choice, either. A recent electrical fire on the second floor of a converted factory on Kent Avenue proved disastrous for third-floor loft dwellers who were left without their home; it proved even more so for the second-floor tenant, who not only lost his place but was discovered to have been operating a marijuana lab.

Still, the 94 Pct. will never be confused with, say, the 75 Pct. One of the bigger numbers attracting attention is that the area of some 56,000 residents went through the calendar year of 2005 without registering a single homicide (there had been four the previous year). It is against this background that Becerril and Rivera confess to being several pangs short of an anxiety attack over the fact that only two sector cars have been turned out for their day tour. “It just broke that way with court appearances and the like,” Becerril says. “Sure, we’re not where we should be in terms of manpower, but so far we’ve been getting by.”

Go to Page 2