Northwestern University and Evanston's Only Daily News Source Since 1881

The Daily Northwestern

48° Evanston, IL
Northwestern University and Evanston's Only Daily News Source Since 1881

The Daily Northwestern

Northwestern University and Evanston's Only Daily News Source Since 1881

The Daily Northwestern

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UP graveyard shifts not for faint of heart

It’s just past 1 a.m. on Tuesday – two hours into a rainy “graveyard shift” for Sgt. Steve Stoeckl of University Police.

Stoeckl drives his squad car, No. 16, up and down a virtually empty Sheridan Road, with only static from the scanner and his walkie-talkie interrupting the silence. Steady rain has kept activity to a minimum.

“It has rained every Monday night since September,” Stoeckl says.

Things usually are more exciting for the midnight crew than they are tonight.

Suddenly, Stoeckl accelerates to catch up to a car that is about to drive through a red light near The Arch. But then he brakes.

“Darn it, he saw us,” Stoeckl says with what sounds like disappointment, and he loops around the block.

It’s going to be a long night.

Working the 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift is a tough gig, Stoeckl and other midnight officers say. But somebody has to do it. UP has seven officers watching over the campus while students sleep.

In addition to four patrol officers, the graveyard shift consists of Stoeckl, the 31-year-old former Theta Chi member from Chicago who claims nothing shocks him anymore; Lt. Shaun Johnson, 42, the commanding officer on duty with a military-style buzz cut, gold-rimmed glasses and a friendly smile; and the dispatcher, Officer Tanya Noble, 40, the most energetic member of the graveyard shift — and one of three women in the 49-person department.

In order to bring officers closer to their beats, this year UP assigned officers to a shift for the entire year, instead of rotating every quarter like they did in the past.

This might not have much of an effect on students. But for Stoeckl, Johnson, Noble and the rest of the midnight crew, the schedule changes mean that they have eight more months to get used to being nocturnal.

Noble, who lives by herself, says she enjoys working the late shift, mainly because she gets along well with the men on the shift.

As a female cop, Noble says, it is tough to find a comfortable niche.

“It’s very difficult for a woman to find that balance (to be taken seriously),” she says. “I’ve found that here I’m like one of the guys. I volunteered readily.”

But for Johnson, who has a wife and a 5-year-old daughter, working nights and sleeping days makes it hard for him to do his normal husband and father duties.

Back in the squad car, Stoeckl is finished patrolling the deserted Lakefill and countless empty streets. A message from the lieutenant comes over the radio.

“Ten-four.”

Stoeckl makes a left onto Clark Street near Burger King.

But there is no emergency. Johnson just wants some coffee.

Sitting around a tree-trunk table at the Northside Cafe, the two officers hash out the pros and cons of their job over an early morning cup of joe.

“You miss out on a lot of things with the kids,” Johnson says.

He says he tries to sleep from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. so he can pick up his daughter from school. But sometimes, because of overtime hours or his computer science classes, he is unable to do so.

Johnson also cites studies that say working night shifts is bad for the health of middle-aged people.

And, the two men agree, a normal social life is out of the question.

But they insist that there are good aspects to covering the midnight shift. Overnight crimes tend to be more serious in nature, and there are more arrests, Stoeckl says.

When police respond to more serious crimes, they are doing more to protect public safety, Noble says later, back at the station.

During the early hours of the morning, there also is less traffic and fewer people to deal with, Johnson says.

“Not that I’m anti-social,” he adds quickly.

“Well, now we are,” Stoeckl interrupts wryly, and the two men laugh.

Stoeckl and Johnson do not particularly enjoy working nights. But since they have the least seniority among other officers of their rank, they do not have much choice.

Still, they say the satisfaction they get from doing a good job keeps them encouraged.

“Deep down, I think people want to help other people,” Johnson says, taking a sip of coffee. “If anything, just for a pat on your own back.”

Stoeckl echoed his comments in the car, saying he has no plans to leave. The feeling of community between the officers, who all put themselves at risk, makes the job worthwhile, he says.

“Every day is a different adventure. We deal with potential life-threatening calls all the time,” he says. “It’s like a family.”

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Northwestern University and Evanston's Only Daily News Source Since 1881
UP graveyard shifts not for faint of heart