A Beacon reporter rides along with Public Safety. The following chronicles an average night on patrol
By Jonathan Hiser
It was a cold, crisp night when I stepped into the Ford Explorer patrol car with Public Safety. Friday night was upon us. Time for parties and hanging out with friends after a victorious women's soccer game. Not for me, and not for the members of the Public Safety.
I accompanied two officers: Sergeant Michael Kranyak and Officer Lissa Burnett, who have been with Public ?Safety for six and four years, respectively.
Burnett came to UP after a wide range of work experiences. An office manager for 20 years for a variety of companies, she ran her own private courier service, contracting with Nike for seven years. A stint as a Portland Police Bureau reserve officer led to her current post.
Prior to UP, Kranyak worked as a motion picture gaffer for eight years in New York and volunteered for the fire department. As a gaffer, Kranyak was the chief light electrician on set, although he noted that the word gaffer can and did entail more than just that.
"According to the dictionary, a gaffer is either a grumpy old man or a head electrician, and I was kind of both sometimes depending on the pressure they put on me," Kranyak said.
Kranyak said the decision to move to Portland came not from working with celebrity prima donnas but rather concern for his family after Sept. 11, 2001. Having witnessed both terrorist attacks, Kranyak decided he had seen enough.
"When the towers were bombed in the parking lot that was a little exciting, but on the second time to see them fall was definitely not exciting," Kranyak said.
Kranyak's cup of coffee sat untouched in its holster for the entire shift as we patrolled up and down the streets. He and Burnett scanned the passing streets. Both of their side windows were fully down. The night air whipped in as we patrolled down the streets with nothing but the sound of the wind and the dull hum of the air heater blasting in the back seats.
Kranyak said these conditions are not a matter of preference but rather necessity.
"We roll with the windows down so we can hear cries for help, at the cost of being very cold," Kranyak said.
Barring a downpour, Public Safety rides in this manner all year, and sometimes to the detriment of the officers. During the last weeks of spring semester, an angry student tossed an open beer can through an officer's open window, hitting the officer and spraying the inside of the car.
Kranyak said moments of disrespect are few and far between but said he can understand why some students may not appreciate them or the work they do.
"Unfortunately when you're enforcing a regulation it's hard for someone to see the positive side of it," Kranyak said. "But it's more about teaching than crackdown."
By night's end, Public Safety responded to three noise complaints, advising each house to quiet down. The incidents were light, representing an average night, according to Burnett.
Kranyak said many of the calls they get tend to be noise complaints, but added that alcohol typically plays a role.
"Tonight, we didn't see alcohol, but I would imagine that alcohol ?probably was there," ?Kranyak said.
Unless she spots an inebriated student or underage drinkers from the doorway, Burnett said neither she nor any other UP officer will search the house. If they get called back twice in the same night, though, the gloves are off.
"It's not about being a jerk," Kranyak said. "We may know what they're doing, but it's not the crime of the century."
The tame atmosphere aside, Kranyak said that not all nights run like clockwork.
"On the last day of classes - oh my gosh - it's command central," Kranyak said. "There's usually six calls at once for six different addresses. We are so overwhelmed at that point that it's absolutely crazy."
Burnett said the real trouble doesn't so much come from rowdy UP students as it does from everybody else.
"Every time we talk to someone who's not a student, it's a dangerous situation because we don't know the predictability of the person," Kranyak said.
A growing demographic of concern for Kranyak and other officers is non-UP students, who are outside Public Safety's jurisdiction and yet sometimes live next door to UP students. Relations with these students have been strained at times, as they often associate Public Safety with their own campus security, according to Kranyak.
Burnett said relations with UP students are far better, and it's that well-intentioned interaction that keeps her coming back to work.
"Students need to know that we don't hold grudges," Burnett said. "Once that night is over, it's a clean slate."
