Session: 123456789101112131415161718         Page 237238239240241242243244245246247248249249a250251252253254255256257258259260261262263 of 617

said, “Don't you think you should send a patrol car here and take him to Bellevue?” The cop at the other end says, “We are not doctors. We can't decide whether somebody belongs in Bellevue.” I said, “I didn't suggest you decide how many days he should stay there. Just that you take him there so a doctor can look at him.” “What did you say your name was?” “Koch, K-o-c-h.” “Will you still be there when we come?” “Oh,” I said, “indeed I will.”

Okay. About seven minutes later a patrol car comes -- two cops in it, very mod looking, tall, moustaches, long hair. They get out of the car. This guy is now on his knees praying in the street. His pants are around his ankles. He's otherwise naked, and holding one bottle in his hand, a wine bottle, and praying to the sun. The cops go over and they jerk him to his feet. I say to myself, “Well, they're not saints.” A lady observing all this yells out, “Don't you dare hurt him!” Says the cop to her: “Want to take him home for dinner, lady?” (laughs)

This could only happen in the Village. I mean it's terrific. So they pick up his trousers and wrap them around, throw him in the back of the car. I go over and I say, “Are you taking him to Bellevue?” The cop says very curtly. “Don't worry about it. We'll take care of him.” So I said, “I didn't ask you that. I'm Congressman Koch. I'm the guy who called you. Are you taking