The Merchant of Venice

As for deploying the officers, Newsome says, he tries to make sure at least two officers work each shift. On Tuesday and Thursday nights, when the Cut Rate Tavern on Baucum Avenue is hopping because of its two-for-one drink specials, Newsome schedules three patrolmen. Today, there is a problem: The officer who was scheduled to work called in sick, and Newsome finds himself the only patrolman on duty in Venice.

He says he could use at least three more full-time officers. A big obstacle is the pay. "Most of the officers we hire, as soon as they get some experience here, they're gone," he says. He's glad that one of his officers does have experience but laments that the guy can only work the midnight shift because he has a second job as the police chief of Alorton, a few miles away.

Crime in Venice boils down to crack cocaine. The city had only one homicide in each of the last two years. But the crack business hasn't slackened at all, says Newsome. Buyers from neighboring towns and from St. Louis drive in and buy the drug on a handful of street corners. Prostitution is minimal and mostly related to the crack business. The cops handle a substantial number of domestic-violence calls. "The husband and wife will be fighting, and one or both will be on crack," Newsome says.

As he cruises around town, he points to a small auto-mechanic setup, with a couple of abandoned cars outside. "They say that guy over there is the cheapest auto mechanic in town because he takes a little bit of crack for pay," Newsome says with a smile. "We're trying to work on him. He's a good mechanic, but he's a crackhead."

A few minutes later, he points to a slim young woman walking down the street in tight leopard-print pants and high heels. "That girl there, she used to be a secretary at one of our schools, and now she's addicted to crack cocaine."

Newsome can't afford a sustained attack on the drug problem. His department has neither the money nor the officers to participate in the regional Metropolitan Enforcement Group of Southern Illinois (MEGSI), essentially an undercover narc operation jointly funded by member police departments. MEGSI conducts drug crackdowns with undercover agents in cities that participate. "They assess $1 per resident, and we cannot afford $3,600 to participate," says Newsome. Nor can he afford the other option, which is to donate the services of one of his own officers.

He slows his car at the corner of Douglas and Baucum streets, where three young black men in baseball caps are standing on the sidewalk, leaning against an old blue Chevy. They keep a wary eye on the patrol car as it approaches. "They're probably waiting to deal some," says Newsome. He makes a U-turn and pulls up at the corner, parking about 15 feet from the men. "They'll scatter in a few minutes," he says. Soon enough, the men start ambling away, down the street and around the corner.

Driving back on the street again, he casually relates that two of his sons were involved with drugs and that one is in jail right now on a crack-possession conviction. "I think the crack problem isn't going down much," he adds. "I think there are more crack addicts now than there were a few years ago."

The large, modern conference room was filling up a few minutes before 9 a.m. last Wednesday as men in suits gathered and took their seats around the square table setup. They represented government agencies, mayors, politicians and civic groups that had come together at the downtown St. Louis offices of the East- West Gateway Coordinating Council, the regional transportation-planning agency. It was the first meeting of the McKinley Bridge Task Force.

It was as if the elders of the village had been convened to figure out a rehab program for the town delinquent.

The unquestioned assumption in the room was that McKinley Bridge must remain open at all costs and fixed up to last at least another 15-30 years. Even after a planned $500 million bridge is opened to the south of McKinley in 15 years, the traffic projections require that McKinley remain open.

"It's not a problem for the city of Venice, and it's not a problem for Madison County," Les Sterman, executive director of East-West Gateway, told the 21 men gathered. "It's a regional problem."

He also reminded them that the Martin Luther King Bridge "was at the same point 10 years ago," implying that a similar plan might work this time. In that case, the MLK Bridge was owned by East St. Louis and in dire straits, financially and structurally. The two states stepped in, bailed the bridge out, spent $50 million to repair it and took ownership of the bridge away from East St. Louis.

Implicit in the task force's formation was the reality that the city of Venice doesn't have the resources to do the job. No one broached the subject of bridge ownership, even though everyone knew that to be the toughest question.