Philadelphia Daily News from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania • Page 21

9 ,1978 Philadelphia Daily News 10 Deadly Syireinito all MOVE. Compound! By JOE CLARK and KAREN SCANLON It wasn't until the late morning sun began beating down on the black, scarred, asphalt of North 33d St. that it became vividly clear. It started on the 300 block, snaked across Baring and continued into the 400 block. In all, at least as far as could be seen, it zigzagged for maybe 100 feet.

It was blood. Dry blood. It was left there a few hours earlier by a police officer who was being carried to a waiting wagon after being shot in the gun battle with MOVE. No one knew for sure which officer's blood it was. FOUR OFFICERS were shot.

One died. It was that dry, crooked trail of blood that drove home the tragedy that had occurred on N.33dSL Like most tragedies, it was unexpected. It started shortly after dawn as police and firefighters set up their defenses to prepare, for the end of MOVE'S 15-month siege in Po-welton Village. Part of that defense was a bulldozer. First it knocked down a side fence of the MOVE compound.

Then part of a tree on the lawn. Then a piece of the front walL Then repeated pleas to come out Then gunfire. Then blood. Then death. THEN THE LONG, hot, fidgety wait for either surrender or more bullets.

It was surrender. It came less than an hour after the gun battle. Two men and four women, some with naked children in their arms, climbed from the basement of the house at 307-09 N. 33d St and walked slowly into the middle of the street Some had their arms raised. Those that didnt were told to do so.

Once the surrender was over, another wait began. This one was for a search of the house. There was word that one of the radicals was shot and killed in the battle and was floating in the basement which firemen had earlier filled with water. The word turned out to be false. MORE THAN 25 members of the news media, some from outside the city, did their waiting behind police barricades on the northwest corner of 33d and Baring, a half block away from the house.

It was their bullpen. During the- wait word came that an anti-police crowd had formed at 33d and Spring Garden two blocks to the north. This word was true. At the intersection, about 150 men and women stood behind police barricades taunt "I'm depressed about the shooting, about the dead cop, about those MOV fcrs. We thought it would come to this.

It couldn't have ended any other way. When they said they'd turned in all their weapons we didn't believe them." HER HUSBAND, dressed in a T-shirt, sat across the table in anger. "I blame Frank Kiz-zo," he said. "The city should have come out when we called them years ago. The real lesson learned was that the system is so very vulnerable.

They let a handful of people cause all this commotion." "It didn't have to come to this," said one officer. "It wasn't worth a life," said another, shaking his head. SLOWLY, THE STAKEOUT officers who were on the front line since early morning walked up 33d St high-powered rifles over one shoulder, bullet-proof vests flung over the other. A few wiped beads of sweat from their brows. A crane was called in to knock down MOVE'S house.

At 12:15 the house began to fall: The house that cost the city more than $1 million to guard, to blockade. But much worse, it was a house that cost bloodshed. The dry, crooked trial of blood in the sun attested to that ing and shouting obscenities at about 100 officers standing on the other side of the barricade, no more than a foot away. The police were wearing riot helmets. Behind them were maybe 10 other officers on horses.

(City Councilwoman Dr. Ethel Allen said she witnessed an exchange of obscenities between one man in the anti-police crowd and Daily News reporter Jack McKinney. She said police finally pulled McKinney away from the scene and suggested he leave. As he walked away, part of the crowd followed, but police prevented any incident.) The taunting became louder. The obscenities meaner.

Suddenly there was a bang a firecracker. A few of the barricades were knocked down. The police, on foot and on horseback, waded into the crowd, swinging nightsticks. The crowd scattered. Fast THERE WAS A second confrontation, and a third.

More obscenities, more running, more club swinging. More arrests. In all, about IS persons were taken Into custody. Meanwhile, one family who lives up the street from MOVE sat around their kitchen table and expressed relief the ordeal was over. They also expressed sorrow.

"I'm depressed," said the woman of the house, who requested her name not be used. Cops' Neighbors: yfi fssi, irsr ft xtvxi Anger and Shoo Em -J br4 JJsr IWJ (c- By JACK McGUIRE, GLORIA CAMPISI and MARIA GALLAGHER Ninth District Police Officer Richard Apanewicz was as angry as he was exhausted when he returned home to his quiet Northeast street last night, after 20 hours on the MOVE detail in Powelton Village. Apanewicz' neighbor did not return home to the white twins on tree-lined N. Hereford Lane. 1 fJ7 C- Ik." Shot in the chest at MOVE, Stakeout Squad Officer James Hesson, 40, was in the hospital, fighting for his life.

By last night the 16-year police veteran had fought his way from poor condition to fair amidst the tubes and Photophed by W.R Evwty 3d Police, bystanders exchange words at 33d and Spring Garden Sts. after MOVE shootout Bitter Cops Cite Superiors for Tragedy street the lights glimmered through-the screen door of a stone twin on Bleigh near Castor and Cot-tman, where the family of critically wounded Stakeout Officer William Krause, 42, a 17-year veteran, sat quietly around the living room. Shot in the abdoman and arm, he had improved last night to fair condition, at Hahnemann Hospital. The people in the living room said they could not bring themselves to talk about the frightful experience, but neighbor Mary Ann Quartullo said she found herself "really shaking" over the news. She formerly was a police officer, and her husband, John, is a patrolman assigned to the 18th District, she said.

"I knew him better as a neighbor than as a policeman," said a retired cop who served, like Krause, in the Highway Patrol. Charles S. Bates, 52, who used to live next door to Krause. said, "I don't believe she ever liked the job," referring to the wounded officer's wife, a sentiment not uncommon in thedangerous profession. THERE WAS NO answer at the Wynnefield home of Stakeout Officer CharleyStewart 41, a 14-year police veteran shot in the leg.

Neighbors on Georges Lane knew little of the officer, the father of two, and holder of three merit commendations and two commendatory letters. He was reported in fair condition last night at Presbyterian- University of Pennsylvania Medical Center. But outside Ramp's rowhome on the Northeast's narrow Arthur where a police officer with a black band across his badge stood guard, neighbors hoped "justice" would be done for the dead officer, holder of numerous commendations. "Everybody in the neighborhood (was) walking around in a near fog," one man said. "We just can't get it through our minds that he's really gone in a day." monitoring devio Hesson es of the intensive care unit at University of Pennsylvania Hospital.

"I'VE HAD IT UP to here," said Apanewicz, who'd known Hesson about six years. "We lost a man (slain officer James Ramp), and it was a waste. In my opinon, we lost" While Apanewicz spoke with tired bitterness, the daughter of another of Hesson's neighbors babysat the wounded officer's two small children, as the children's mother, Phyllis, kept watch at the hospital. "We're trying to keep them amused," said Mrs. Joseph Zimmerman, who was summoned by her mother, Anna Downey.

'They know something's wrong, but they don't know what happened. We really haven't told them anything, they're too young." Hesson, a 16-year veteran, had received one bravery and four merit commendations during his career. ON ANOTHER tree-lined Northeast By ROBERT STRAUSS At a Fraternal Order of Police meeting last night, 40 members of the MOVE detail complained about the lack of supervision and leadership during the final shootout, the Daily News has learned. According to a source, the members of the detail claimed that if the leadership and supervision on the scene had been adequate, Stakeout Officer James Ramp would not have been killed. "Any way this thing turns out, we lost," said one officer patrolling the rubbled Powelton scene yesterday afternoon.

"They killed one of our men." A dour-faced stakeout officer explained his version of the minutes before the final shootout in a disgusted voice. "TWO ASSAULT TEAMS (of five men each) were ordered in and told to go to the top of the building and secure it from top to bottom. We had the bastards," he said. "We didn't fire. The mobile deluge gun was brought up All of a sudden, 12 to 15 rounds of fire erupted from the MOVE basements, most of which struck a tree.

None hit any officer. "Then we opened up. (Until then) this whole operation was stategically sound," he went on. "Then the ball of wax fell apart. A very high police official said, 'Hold the fire.

Hold the fire. Everybody pull back. The deluge gun will do the job." "As the men were pulling back, they were exposed to fire from the basement MOVE opened up again. Jimmy Ramp, a man personified, was about to give cover fire. He ran forward to protect the retreating men.

He never got to fire his weapon. He was taken down," he said, shaking his head. "GODDAMN IT, we lost that skirmish," one veteran stakeout officer said. "I never saw anything that was so mismanaged. No one should have gotten hurt This was et bad operation all the way around." Another veteran stakeout officer said he was "astonished to hear the cease-fire order.

"It threw us into a state of confusion," he said. "It was a real screw up. It's not only tearing me apart, but every man in the unit Four good men went down for no good reason.".