After More Than 3 Decades in Law Enforcement, Deputy, 70, Still Eager to Hit The Streets
By Glenn Smith, The Associated Press
CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) - A light rain speckled Deputy James Foster’s cruiser as a woman sped past in a white sedan, cutting and weaving through a clot of traffic along Sam Rittenberg Boulevard.
Foster, 70, whipped his patrol car around and flipped on its blue lights, only to find an idling pickup blocking his path. A frown creased his face as he edged closer, waving to get the driver’s attention.
“Hey, pardner,” Foster barked, gesturing at his light bar. “I’m not out here trying to decorate the highway with Christmas lights, you know.”
It didn’t matter that Foster already had issued a pile of tickets that day or that he likely would write several more before his shift was done. He had seen someone driving dangerously. She needed to be stopped. End of story.
“The law is designed to protect people, if it’s done right,” he said. “For the few minutes she’s with me, someone is being protected from her behavior. And if you can help someone else, that’s a good feeling.”
In a profession in which many people burn out, retire or settle into a desk job by their 25th anniversary, Foster is something of an anomaly.
After more than three decades in law enforcement, Foster is still eager to hit the streets, passing up cozier assignments.
Working alongside men and women less than half his age, the decorated Vietnam War veteran continues to pull 12-hour shifts, fielding calls, writing reports and mixing it up with criminals.
“He has an infectious attitude that inspires the people around him,” Sheriff Al Cannon said. “He is aggressive, in the positive sense of that word. ... He is a go-getter with a take-charge attitude.”
Most recently, Foster helped subdue an angry man who rammed a car and threatened his ex-girlfriend outside the Charleston County jail in mid-September. He took the man down with two blasts from a Taser pistol, hitting the man with 50,000-volt jolts of electricity.
“When the five-seconds were up, he asked me what he needed to do,” Foster said. “I told him, ‘Just what I’ve been asking you to do. Put your hands behind your back and stop all that shouting.”’
Foster’s voice rose as he recounted the story, details tumbling forth in a hurried rush. It’s this sort of action, this surge of adrenaline, he would miss if he were to retire. He assumes that day will eventually come, but he can’t say when.
“One day when I get tired, I suppose,” he said with a grin.
Flecks of gray in his buzz-cut hair and thin mustache are among the few obvious signs of his age. A strict exercise regimen that includes up to 400 push-ups daily has left the former Green Beret with a sturdy frame, sinewy arms and a bone-bruising handshake.
Foster keeps his uniform crisp and his posture straight, and he wouldn’t think of setting foot outside his cruiser without his stiff hat atop his head. Few deputies bother with the uncomfortable headpiece. Foster can’t understand that. It’s part of the uniform. It should be worn.
Foster is a stickler for respect and tradition. He has been known to hoist up the pants of young offenders who dare to show their drawers in public. He once stopped an interview in mid-sentence to straighten an American flag that was hanging off-kilter on a stranger’s car. The only time anyone can recall him choking up was about six months ago when former Magistrate Jack Guedalia presented him with a personally autographed photo of President Bush.
“He is a top-notch, old-line police officer,” Guedalia said. “He is really concerned with the continued welfare of the people he encounters. People aren’t just a number to him.”
On the road, Foster is as likely to dispense advice as traffic tickets. After stopping an elderly woman for making an illegal left turn on Sam Rittenberg Boulevard on a recent afternoon, he explained that the prohibition was designed to keep people safe in an accident-prone zone.
“If you promise and swear to me on the holy cross that you won’t do that again, I am going to give you a warning,” he said, leaning in. “But if you do it again and I see it, I’m going to write you a real ticket.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “We love you, and we want you to stay alive out here.”