Although it is most common for 20-somethings to enter the police profession, it is highly uncommon for almost-century-old folks to still be workin’ the beat. Rare but possible, the law enforcement trade has a few iconic figures buffing a badge, pinning it on police blues, strapping a duty belt, and doing the job like it’s no one’s business.
This is a heartfelt story about one of those so-called lifers in policing, one who would have it no other way.
91-year-old L.C. “Buckshot” Smith is a full-fledged police officer with the Camden, Arkansas police department.
As THV11 News tells us, Officer Smith is a walking/patrolling storybook whose lineage is long on respect for public safety and short on sitting around idle: “Buckshot worked for the Ouachita County Sheriff’s Office for more than 46 years. He came out of retirement after just four months to work for the Camden Police Department,” a city on whose periphery he was born and raised.
Can you imagine that? A cop for close to five decades —half a century— only to reinforce his calling and return to the police profession.
And kudos to Camden PD for picking up on the wealth of information and gusto in a man whose constitution is in public safety and helping folks.
With the ever-evolving anti-police choirs clanging pots and pans in the most baseless concert ever, we bear witness to gobs and gobs of highly valued police talent, skills, wisdom, and tested experience walk out the door. “Who could blame them?” is an oft-touted reply. Indeed, self-respect and self-preservation are ingredients laboriously harvested in a profession which historically views cops as necessary when we need them yet otherwise lambasted as cancerous.
I harbor huge respect for those who submit their retirement papers as well as for those who forge forward—unyielding support for the former and the latter.
Back to Buckshot, whose storied law enforcement career continued by invitation from police executives with the Camden PD. Emphasis here is placed on the traditional factor of self-ambition and correlate application to compete with others vying for a job of which self-sacrifice is the order and inherent expectation. That itself is virtuously grand, but to be invited to the force is a whole other level of respect and deserved recognition.
In essence, it’s like a Warren Buffett being elicited to come out of retirement to join a Wall Street finance firm thirsty for the best in the biz and his wealth of wisdom.
As Officer Smith said, “The Camden police wanted me to come work here. They said I had too much knowledge and time and wisdom. I love people. I love to help people.”
Thus, after a brief four-month retirement hiatus, Buckshot found his latest police assignment in his brand of Wall Street: The Camden PD.
Although every single cop in America is a brand ambassador for his/her agency and is responsible for not only meeting but exceeding the public’s expectations to a high degree and with the steadiness of a neurosurgeon, some have that special sauce, that magnetic PR persona and charisma so successful for community policing principles to garner traction.
Nowadays, Officer Smith is largely responsible for coordinating community watch meetings, safeguarding school zones in the city, and escorting funerals in/around his jurisdiction. He does these things four days per week throughout eight-hour shifts, always in full uniform, duly punctuated by a chest full of colorful ribbons symbolizing a robust police career with commendations and a uniform sleeve decorated by gold stars and hash marks indicative of public safety tenure.
As for the importance of peers in policing, reporter Melissa Zygowicz interviewed Camden police Lt. Jamario Bush, whose eight-year tenure with the agency and managerial rank nevertheless defers to Buckshot, saying he is a beacon to aspire to and glean police prowess.
Lt. Bush added, “Even the new guys we have right now, he’s trying to talk to them and give them a life lesson on how to get into police work and how to stay in police work.” Indeed, one of the mainstays for why I and others either volunteer or get recruited to serve as field training officers (FTOs), forging future cops with tried and true law enforcement practices and investigative skills while they meld their niche.
Although cops are rather universally trained in the academy, each police officer develops and hones special skillsets and/or professional interests. On my squad, one of my beat partners was keen on economic crimes and following electronic paper trails to solve cases while I preferred sleuthing the trails of tires and footprints in pursuit of burglars and thieves.
In law enforcement, everyone is an element belonging to a team and brings their brand of special sauce to the table, with successful operations and officer safety proportionally paramount.
Like any FTO, I suspect Buckshot takes tremendous pride in mentoring new recruits joining the police force during an unprecedented anti-police climate: “I tell all young recruits: this gun and this badge don’t make a police officer. You got to want to do it,” he said. And I believe it is a fairly tacit testimony of desiring to be a cop when young people step forward to train hard and then take the oath to preserve lives, especially with the chronic harangue of those who wish them abolished.
The only ones I knew of who didn’t necessarily aspire to be a cop but took the test anyway — “because it was a job” — ultimately discovered they’d never want to be anything else. Each of those job-seeking cohorts from childhood garnered commendations and excelled as NYPD cops, wishing they’d joined sooner. And this self-actualization fortuitously becomes the first story in a litany of law enforcement episodes.
As for our heralded subject today, I’ll bet Buckshot has seen a thing or two…thousand. Just imagine the robust, infinite stories this gentleman has under his belt!
One he is not necessarily sharing is his moniker: “Buckshot.” Officer L.C. Smith told the media that that logotype has a story too long to tell…and that it became his nickname when he was a 14-year-old. Fair enough; respect regardless.
And whatever the “Buckshot” backstory entails, it is held in esteem by his agency which minted it upon his uniform nameplate:
Naturally, one may wonder when it is time for Buckshot to hang his hat and duty belt for the final time. He addressed that with a Word from his Creator: “Everybody asks me when I’m going to retire and I tell them, ’When the Good Lord says so!’”
Blessings to a man whose life consisted of giving of himself, even as he ebbs closer to the ticker chronicling a century of physical presence, predominately as a policeman.