When did policing in New York City become fun? Not satisfying or exciting, but just plain fun?

The answer is 1987, when Ronald Brooks and Darryl Williams reported to the 94 Pct after their post-Academy six-month stint with NSU 15. For the next 19 years, according to Brooks, “the best word for it all has really been just fun.”

One reason might be that the Brooks, who comes from Georgia, and Williams, who was born in Brooklyn, have been teamed up the entire time, challenging whatever NYPD records for continuous patrol partnerships may exist. Another reason might be the 94 itself — or, as Williams puts it: “You got the NYPD in Brooklyn, then you got the Greenpoint Police. That’s us. We’re the Greenpoint Police, where nothing’s supposed to happen and usually doesn’t.”

After a declaration of that sort, most cops would immediately jump in with second thoughts: a patrol officer never knows what’s hiding behind the next call, memories of fatal endings for other cops who got too comfortable in their assignments. But not Brooks or Williams. “Hey, look,” the 47-year-old Brooks says, “when I got here the first day, I get to my locker and somebody wrote, ‘From NSU to Retirement.’ And that’s been the truth of it. No point making up things. Neither one of us has ever had to use our guns, and that’s a commentary in itself. When I got assigned to the 94 Pct., I hit a home run.”

“A grand slam,” seconds Williams.

But surely something must have given them pause over 19 years? How about the neighborhood? How has that changed since 1987?

“No question,” nods Brooks. “When we came here, the northern section of the command around Bedford Avenue was all factories and breweries, a big meat market. At night you could hang a “CLOSED” sign on the whole area. The occasional stolen car dumped, but nothing more than that. There just weren’t any people, so how you going to have any crime? The last few years, though, that area in particular is turning into another Greenwich Village. Younger people, smart places for eating and drinking and just hanging out. We ran into a Japanese woman a few weeks back. Knew nothing about the country, let alone New York. I said, how come you ended up here? She says everybody knows Greenpoint is the ‘hot spot’ to be these days. I guess if they know it in Japan, they know it everywhere.”

But still no big troubles?

“Not yet,” Williams says. “But it’s got to change. The stuff that always comes when you get people looking like they have a few dollars in their pockets, coming out of bars alone late at night. Wherever there’s money, there’s bound to be muggings.”

“And we won’t have to worry about any of it,” says Brooks.

Both of them roar with laughter at the prospect of turning in their papers at the end of July. “Twenty is twenty,” Brooks says. “And we’ll be history. Let other people deal with what’s coming.”

“There’s no way things can stay the same,” Williams picks up. “Ask anybody around here. We’ve gone through whole weekends with, maybe, one or two sector calls.”

“I can remember a few weekends when there were none, zero,” Brooks amends. “And even they were some kind of residential fire. A short circuit. Pot on the stove too long. That kind of thing.”

So Greenpoint is the Garden of Eden?

“Pretty close to it,” agrees Williams. “I’m not saying absolutely everything that happens and maybe should get reported does get reported. This is a pretty heavily Polish neighborhood. Always has been. When the Poles talk about leaving their country, they don’t talk about going to America, they talk about going to Greenpoint. And the Poles, they don’t exactly have the best history with their police back home. So they really want to avoid any cop as much as possible. Something gets out of hand, they try to settle it among themselves. There’s another slice of Italians that feel the same way. So maybe whereas in other neighborhoods you could fill up a tour with domestic disturbances calls, around here you’ve never done that. Has to be really serious for them to ask for our help.”

“Not to say this hasn’t been a cop-friendly command,” Brooks says. “It always has been. They may not want you coming into their homes to get involved in their problems, but they’ve always been friendly and cooperative about things that happen in the street. It’s only lately, with some of the younger people, you start to feel some basic distrust. To some of the younger people, cops aren’t just outsiders, they’re almost the enemy. And that’s a big difference from the old guard in the neighborhood.”

A native of Columbus, Georgia, Brooks reached New York via the Navy. “I never saw this city until we laid up in the Brooklyn Navy Yard back in ‘86. When I got out of the military, I decided to stay up here, took a job at the Bank of New York. Then somebody told me about the test, I took it, and here I am.”

The 46-year-old Williams, on the other hand, could have walked a few blocks to his command after being raised in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. “People are always asking how we’ve been able to stand each other for so long. Well, number one, we haven’t. You pass our patrol car sometimes and you’re going to hear a lot of screaming. But it’s usually forgotten by the next day.”

“I think the important thing is that we complement one another,” adds Brooks. “I like moving into a situation, talking up what’s been going down. Darryl’s very laid back. Sometimes you got a victim who prefers his quiet approach, tells him things maybe he wouldn’t tell me.”

Ask them what they see as the other’s best quality, Brooks and Williams come up with similar answers. Brooks: “The fact that he’s quiet, I suppose. Lets me do all the talking.” Williams: “He’s really good-natured. You might not be able to tell that all the time, but he really is.”

Within the command itself, the two veterans also see some changes in recent years that they can’t believe will work out as “fun” for everybody. “When we went on the job with NSU,” Brooks says, “we had veterans showing us the ropes. Now with this Impact program, you got these kids basically being told just to stand on a corner. How they supposed to pick up the fine points of patrol that way?”

The two also shrug helplessly before the fixed-tour debate. “We all know the arguments for and against by now,” Williams declares. “The cops with families, especially, they like knowing when they’re going to be working next week and next month. The price for that is you end up with three commands inside every command, guys not knowing one another even in the same precinct because they barely see each other coming and going.”

“Yeah, and with the new 6-2-type stuff, it’s gotten worse,” Brooks reminds his partner. “I bet you it’s possible to be on the job here for months without running into somebody. Whatever problems that solves, it sure creates one with camaraderie and solidarity.”

As far as Brooks is concerned, it is that camaraderie he will miss most when he retires. “Not hanging out in the lounge on breaks, gassing back and forth, that’s going to be the hardest thing for me to get used to.”

But what about Williams? How can he not miss him after so much time together in a patrol car?

It is a question both seem to have pushed to the back of their minds, at most brought forward for a couple of glib cracks. “We went on vacation together once back in the ‘90s,” Williams recalls. “Eight days and seven nights in Hawaii. That was the first and last time. All he really wants to do with a vacation is stay home. Me, I like taking cruises in the Caribbean, some hot place.”

“We’ll go to the Meadowlands or the Garden to see the Knicks sometimes,” Brooks says. “But how much can you see a guy in one day??!!”

Once retired, Brooks figures on returning to Georgia to look into business possibilities. “Insurance, maybe. I know a little about that field, and I think I might be good at it.”

For his part, Williams foresees nothing right now except “having my first summer off in 20 years.” What the two of them totally agree on, however, is that their post-NYPD life will have nothing whatsoever to do with police or security work. “Enough is enough,” Williams says.

“Besides,” smiles Brooks, “how could anything compare with the fun we’ve had at the 94?”

Williams shakes his head. He can’t imagine such a possibility.

— Donald Dewey