They walked in the rain, hundreds of them, police officers from all over the country. They passed by blighted blocks similar to what they're all too accustomed in their own cities.
Police supervisors from California to New York didn't flinch as they marched Wednesday morning along East Biddle Street in a gathering meant to show solidarity with the community and with each other. They ended at a prayer service for fallen officers at Israel Baptist Church.
New York police Lt. Marvin Louis has two brothers-in-law who live in Baltimore, but on this day he was here in uniform. "For us, it's about showing mutual respect for the people we serve," he said, as he waved hello to stunned residents who leaned out their doors to watch the surprise parade.
The officers were in town for the annual conference of the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives, and as they do in every city they visit, they wrap up with a community march, picking neighborhoods where police are needed most.
Louis glanced at a block of boarded-up rowhouses and a corner store with three young men hanging out on the steps, music blaring from a speaker inside. "We have some spots that are pretty tough too," said Louis, who is assigned to his department's community relations unit.
The estimated 800 officers from departments small and large, local agencies and sprawling federal bureaucracies, met for days to listen to speakers opine on everything from domestic terrorism to the "nobility of policing."
One workshop was about how to convince persuade released convicts to help mediate disputes on the street. Participants, according to the literature, were asked "to explore the role of black men in law enforcement mentoring formerly incarcerated African Americans as a solution to crime reduction and urban community stabilization."
It is similar to several programs in Baltimore in which ex-offenders mediate disputes between gangs to try to head off violence.
"We all want our communities safe," said Ernest E. Green III, the national president of the group. He led the march along East Biddle Street, which was led by a procession of city police motorcycles and followed by hundreds of children identified as future leaders, as well as police officers and their wives.
"We want the people to know that the police and the brass support their efforts to make their lives better," Green said. "We have a small voice, but our voice can be heard over the people who want to disrupt things."
Officers who were interviewed said they lamented locking up black males but stressed the importance of mutual respect between police and community.
Lt. Karl Robbins of the Milwaukee Police Department looked at Biddle Street and said, "It's the same. It's the same all over, in cities all over America. It's nice to know at times we're not alone, but it's certainly not heartening. It's disheartening."
But the walk did succeed in heartening one resident.
She emerged from her Biddle Street rowhouse and stood on the steps of a vacant dwelling to get a good picture of the parade of police in her Collington Square neighborhood.
To her, it's not an issue of who gets locked up or why. "I call the police and they come," she said plainly. "They're here for the drugs and all the bad people. I think the cops do a good job."
Her viewpoint is not one that is often heard across the city, or at least not stated so publicly and with so much determination. Part of the reason is fear.
At first, the woman was willing to have her name published, but she later called and pleaded to not be named, to be referred to only as a resident. When the police leave, the smiles disappear, and this woman returns to living in fear.
It's not safe for her to divulge her identity, especially when she's saying nice things about the police. But it's her attitude that officers such as Robbins, Green and Louis say is needed in cities across the country, where there are too many streets like Biddle and not enough people like her.
Text NEWS to 70701 to get Baltimore Sun local news text alerts