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My Hero Works on Tracks & Trains: Lt. Kerwick & the K9s of New York City's subway system
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Yellow Labrador Retriever on alert.
Lt. John Kerwick works deep inside Grand Central Station. He is the head of Metropolitan Transit Authority’s K-9 unit and the subject of a chapter in my book, Paws to Protect.
If you ever travel to New York City, Grand Central is worth seeing. It’s not just a place to take a train. The exterior is so sculpted it’s like entering a cathedral. Inside, people are scurrying little ants in the massive hall with its grand marble columns and giant arched windows. You can dine at a much-heralded restaurant, Metrazur, on a balcony overlooking the action. (The brunch for the Best in Show winner of the Westminster Dog Show was held there. Stump had the prime rib, rare.) A U.S. flag the size of your house hangs from the ceiling. Mighty Greek gods adorn the aqua-green ceiling, outlined in glowing gold.
To reach Lt. Kerwick and the K-9 heroes, you walk down a ramp broader than most streets. The Oyster House restaurant is tucked away down here. Keep going and you come to the market area. The scents of every ethnicity waft from dozens of kitchens; stir fry, sauerkraut, clam chowder, crusty bread, and onion soup. Dazzling strawberry, lemon, and chocolate pastries beckon you from behind glass counters. Grand Central is worth a trip for the food alone.
Most people don’t know it is also one of the safest places in New York. Lt. Kerwick makes sure of that. He supervises 50 K-9 teams who patrol the halls, platforms and tracks constantly. The dogs do not allow one spec of nitroglycerin, nitric acid, dynamite, C4 or any other explosive inside.
Security screeners can peek into traveler’s luggage. Scanners can x-ray it. But to smell inside it, you need a dog.
As soon as I got to his office, an intercom operator requested a K-9 to check out an abandoned package at Rite Aid. Sgt. Dennis Fitzpatrick was dispatched with his Lab, Harley, “the best dog of all of them,” he informed me.
Harley sniffed the bag without interest, so the officer picked it up. Inside was a container of Mitchum deodorant, obviously dropped by a commuter with a body odor issue who was probably running to catch a train.
If Harley had detected a potentially deadly explosive, he would signal by coming to a halt and sitting down. A passerby would see only a nice, obedient dog. That way, there’s no panic or stampede by a terrified crowd.
Harley continued his tour, down through the market area, paying particular attention to garbage cans. Handlers ask the dogs to check trash disposal areas carefully, because those are the typical hiding places. As I walked, I wondered at the beautiful design and cleanliness of Grand Central. Brass rails shine. Marble staircases are white and sparkling. Chandeliers are so cleverly made that plain, round, white light bulbs make up part of the motif.
After visiting with Lt. Kerwick and getting in some research at the American Kennel Club library on Madison Avenue, I hurried to catch my train back to Princeton. In Penn Station, I saw an officer and his yellow Lab descending into track 13 for a routine check. Unlike Grand Central, Penn Station is crowded, dirty and boring. But it’s just as safe because the dogs are there. As long as they are, all’s right with the world.
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