The Time Capsule: A highway patrolman by any other name

 My wife and I were traveling in a southern state when we encountered a road sign telling us the bridge we were approaching was named for a state trooper who died in the line of duty.  

My reaction was not entirely positive. The sentiment is fine, but doing this seems to single out one organization to the exclusion of others. Why not bridges for sheriffs and deputies who met a similar fate?  Overpasses for city police? Something for DOT and others who labor to make highways relatively safe? Firefighters respond to traffic accidents and some have lost their lives doing so.  

The idea was not, I told my wife, one I’d campaign for.  

She commented if other states were doing it, Iowa would follow. I expressed doubt. In Iowa, the custom has been to bestow these honors both collectively and individually through a Peace Officers Memorial, along with an impressive annual service that stresses equality and fraternity among various public safety entities.      

Obviously, I was mistaken. There are now 10 bridges in Iowa named for state troopers; one of which is just west of Red Oak. This is done, and if I had reservations, it doesn’t matter. I do, though, wonder how some of those being recognized would feel about having their title posthumously changed.  

There are men who have now given their name to a bridge who were hired to be “Highway Patrolmen.” When Oran Pape was shot to death in 1936, he was not a “Trooper.” The same is true of Patrolman Harold Klinkefus, killed when a jack-knifed semi crashed into his car near Red Oak in 1949. For officers of that era, there was pride in being known as “Highway Patrolmen.”    

Wholesale changes were made in the late 1960s and early 70s. District Highway Patrol Offices became “Posts.” Army-style saucer hats gave way to the “Smokey Bear” look. The shoulder patch was changed, white cars replaced black ones, CB radios were added and “Highway Patrolmen” became “Troopers.”  

They didn’t all like the new look or title. Years ago, I worked with officers who were hired as patrolmen and didn’t want to be called anything else. If the brass didn’t like it they could go to blazes. They were patrolmen, had been patrolmen since they’d taken the oath, and would be patrolmen to the end. When the transformation came, they had no choice about wearing the goofy-looking hat, but while referring to their occupation they would not use the “T” word.

They were in the minority, obviously not policy-makers, and in time they were gone. I wonder, though, if there aren’t at least a couple of crusty old cops in the glorious hereafter, where donuts are free and waitresses refuse tips, who look down and grumble about being portrayed on a road sign with a title they never held.  

Roy Marshall is a local historian and columnist for the Red Oak Express. He can be contacted at news@redoakexpress.com.