Officer Down: Officer Richard Francis
By Maureen O’Donnell
The Chicago Sun-Times
CHICAGO — They came from all over Chicago, Illinois and the country to honor slain Chicago Police Officer Richard Francis at his wake Sunday.
Grown men came out of respect for the football coach who taught them at Welles Park 32 years ago. On Coach Rick’s team, everybody got to play, no matter their size.
Men and women who were once the boys and girls of Our Lady of Lourdes grammar school and St. Gregory High School came to remember the man they had loved since kindergarten -- 55 years ago.
Young rookies. Ponytailed and dreadlocked undercover officers. Black, white, yellow and brown, male and female, they came to honor an officer they dubbed “Top Shelf.”
Francis, 60, died Wednesday on the job, in a tussle with a woman who shot him with his own gun. She is charged with first-degree murder and was shot by other officers responding to the scene.
When Francis’ wake began at noon at Cooney Funeral Home, 3918 W. Irving Park, the line was already down the block. It never let up, as hundreds of officers came to pay their respects. Supt. Jody Weis entered Cooney in the evening. Some mourners said they saw Officer Jim Mullen stop by in his wheelchair. Mullen became a quadriplegic after a shooting on the job. Lt. Gov. Pat Quinn and U.S. Rep. Rahm Emanuel also lined up with firefighters, state troopers and suburban police officers.
Francis’ fellow officers remembered his barrel-chested laugh, his love for his wife, his family and his dog, and his devotion to the police force.
“I remember an adult saying, ‘Why would you want to be a police officer?’ ” said Pat Gibbons, 43, of Lake Bluff, whom Francis coached at football when he was 12. “And he said, ‘It’s not about the money. I’ve always wanted to be a cop.’ ”
His fellow officers said there was none better. They have a saying: If people need help, they call the police. And if the police need help, they call the [police] wagon.
“He was an excellent wagon guy,” said Officer Tim Melchiori. If officers need help, a “wagon guy” can secure troublemakers in his vehicle.
Inside the funeral home, Francis rested with his baton, white gloves and police hat at the foot of his casket, draped with the Chicago flag. His veteran flag -- from his tour in the Navy in Vietnam -- was folded inside his casket.
Pictures of Francis decorated the room along with a clipping about the Mighty Mites, the Little League baseball team he played on.
His childhood friend Andy Hill, of Fort Myers, Fla., recalled Francis’ dapper dressing days in the early 1960s, with pants dubbed “Casinos” and footwear that a foreign-accented teacher dismissed as “Yeetle Yutes” -- Beatle boots.
“Rich never got a chance to retire,” said his retired boss, Cmdr. George Rosebrock. “It makes you feel almost obligated to do something every day you enjoy. He didn’t deserve this.”
It seemed fitting that someone placed a small “Buzz Lightyear” figure inside the casket, a character whose catchphrase is “To Infinity and Beyond.” Buzz was Francis’ nickname.
Copyright 2008 The Chicago Sun-Times