The two men in the alley were not reeling drunk, exactly, but they were glassy-eyed and stumbling, and when the cop approached them on foot, they seemed utterly baffled by the encounter. 

“How’re you guys doing?” the officer asked them. 

Both men mumbled tentative replies. One of them, a stocky man with the grizzled face of a lifelong drinker, snuck a glance at the bottle of Five O’Clock vodka at his feet. The other weaved back and forth over a few sweaty cans of cheap beer. 

It was midday in the short alley that runs between Ash and Pine streets in downtown Lewiston. Why the men chose this semi-public place to get their drink on was a mystery to me. 

All around was the hustle and bustle of downtown activity. Lawyers strode up sidewalks with briefcases in hand. Workers were out on various corners on smoke breaks. Couples walked toward Lisbon Street to shop or grab late lunches. 

And unfortunately for the alley drinkers, Lewiston Police Officer Ryan Gagnon was walking his beat. 

“Look,” Officer Gagnon said to the men, after checking their IDs. “I’m not going to read you the riot act or anything, but you can’t be drinking out here. You need to dump out your bottles and clean up all these beer cans.” 

The men grumbled, but only briefly. They knew a break when they saw one. At once, they began to gather up their now-empty bottles and cans. 

“Thank you,” one of the men said, offering Gagnon his hand.  

Mindful of COVID-19 and social distancing, Gagnon gave the man an elbow bump, instead. He didn’t linger long in the alley, there was work to be done elsewhere.  

A block away was a very sick dog that needed attention and Gagnon had made a promise. 

‘JUST SO FRIENDLY’ 

When I met with Gagnon that day, he was engaged in a lively conversation with a man at the corner of Ash and Park streets. 

A burly man in a ball cap, the fellow seemed agitated when he first approached the officer, but by the end of the conversation, he seemed content. 

“What was that about?” I asked Gagnon when it was over. 

“He said he got robbed in Portland,” the officer explained. “Someone took money out of his wallet, so it wasn’t robbery, it was theft. And he knew the guy. He really just wanted to know what he could do about it.” 

This was my first meeting with Gagnon, Lewiston’s acclaimed walking beat cop, and I didn’t really have to ask what his job entailed. I had just seen it, to some extent, with my own eyes. 

“A lot of what I do,” Gagnon said, “just involves walking around and running into people who want to chitchat.” 

That may be true, but after spending just two hours with Gagnon on foot patrol, I realized that there’s another key ingredient in his job description: variety. 

All summer long, Gagnon, a Lewiston native, has been walking his beat five days a week, covering ground between Spruce Street and Main Street, an area that has a little bit of everything, Lewiston’s business district included. 

“I try to change it up,” Gagnon tells me. “I start at the PD and I always try to take a different route. Sometimes I’ll head down Lisbon Street, sometime Park Street. I might start the day saying, ‘OK, I want to hit the parking garages this morning.'” 

Gagnon, who spent 14 years on patrol in Portland before moving back home, volunteered for the walking beat. There are many people — fellow cops, among them — who think he’s nuts. Who wants to be out there hoofing it all day, they reason, when he could be inside a cool and comfortable car? Who wants to be downtown for eight agonizing hours listening to the gripes of panhandlers, hard drinkers and various yahoos with nothing but complaining to do? 

Gagnon doesn’t dispute any of this. The walking beat, he says, isn’t for everyone. 

“I love it,” he says. “I really do. But you have to have the personality for it. It’s not for every officer because you kind of have to let your guard down a little bit. You have to be able to talk to people of all backgrounds.” 

Over the next couple hours, that’s what Gagnon and I will do; we’ll walk and talk and interact with a range of people, from pillars of the community to the drunk and downtrodden. 

What strikes me from the get-go is the easy way he has of talking to all of these people; of relating to them on a personal level no matter who they are or what their complaint is. 

“He’s awesome,” says Jessica Paquette, a panhandler who can be found standing out on Lisbon Street just about every day. “He’s just so friendly and easy to approach. He can talk to anyone.” 

It’s a sentiment I’m going to hear over and over on our meandering hike through the downtown. 

Our journey begins with a missing lady and one very sick dog. 

DOWN ON THE CORNER 

The panhandler’s name is Jeff Sanipas and he stood at the corner of Lisbon and Main streets, sign in hand. When he saw the cop approach, he didn’t seem alarmed, but pleased. 

“Hey, Ryan,” he said cheerfully. “How’re you doing?” 

“Doing good,” Gagnon said. “Do you know where Rebecah is? I hear she’s having trouble with her dog.” 

Sanipas grimaced. “Yeah,” he said. “Honestly, I think that dog needs to be put down.” 

Gagnon nodded grimly. He had heard all about the dog, which had snapped at a few people in recent days. 

Before turning away, the officer pointed to a bicycle leaning against a brick building. 

“Hey,” he said to Sanipas. “Keep an eye on Jessica’s bike, will you? I don’t know where she is.” 

Sanipas nodded and promised to do just that and Officer Gagnon was off, headed up to the fifth floor of Gateway Apartments to see about that sick dog. As we walked, I scribbled names in my notebook: Jessica Paquette, Jeff Sanipas, Rebecah . . . the cast of downtown players was emerging. 

“I try to get to know everybody down here,” Gagnon tells me. “I know when they come out for their smoke breaks and things like that. I think this is what the other guy’s lose by being in their cruisers all day.” 

It’s obvious that Gagnon is friendly with just about everyone he encounters on his daily rounds. Don’t be confused, though. He’s still a cop and he has the power to make arrests when the situation warrants it. Gagnon does everything other police officers do — he just does it on two feet instead of four wheels. 

Tall and lanky and wearing an LPD issued ball cap, Gagnon laughs when I ask him about this part of his work. Why, just a short while ago, he tells me, he chased down a car on foot after witnessing some reckless driving on Oak Street. 

“At first, the guy thought I was a parking meter cop,” Gagnon said. “I don’t have a car out here but I still make a traffic stop. I didn’t give him a ticket, but I gave him a stern warning.” 

After that running traffic stop, the elderly residents of Oak Street Apartments applauded Gagnon for his efforts. He’s popular among those elderly folk, I’d come to find out, in large part because he visits with them frequently, but also because Gagnon gets things done. 

The cop laughs again. Not long ago, the men and women of Oak Street Apartments grumbled to him that drivers kept turning the wrong way on Park Street after coming to the end of Oak. 

“Basically, I made a call to public works and they put in a work order,” Gagnon explains. “They sent a guy down to assess the area and the one-way sign went up at the end of Oak Street.” 

A simple matter, maybe, but to the older folks at Oak Street Apartments, it was a big deal. They’re talking about that sign. They’re happy to tell you how they feel about it and about how they feel about Gagnon specifically. 

“We love him down here,” said a resident named Roger. “We really do. I remember having cops walk a beat when I was 5 years old. I think this is just great.” 

REESE’S FINAL HOURS 

But that was then and this is now. Fresh on his plate at the moment is the matter of the sick dog, so he heads up to the fifth floor at Gateway Apartments.  

When he knocks, the grim-faced woman opens the door, a tired looking dog slumped at her feet. 

The lady’s name is Rebecah Brayall and back in 2016, she adopted the dog, a chow-shepherd mix, because its owners were abusing the animal. She named the dog Reese and has loved it like a son. 

But now Reese, 11 years old and unable to walk on his own, is at the end of his days, and Brayall is having trouble figuring out how to handle the sad situation. The problem is more complex than that, too, because Reese, in his infirmity, nipped a few people in recent days. And because the dog has been unable to walk, Brayall doesn’t know how she can get her pet down to the street to take him wherever he needed to go. 

Gagnon listens to Brayall’s glum story and sympathizes. 

“I want the dog to be safe,” he says, “but we don’t want him biting anyone. We need to find a solution where we don’t put anyone at risk or cause him any more discomfort. He seems to be in a bit of pain.” 

For the next 15 minutes or so, Gagnon paced the halls of Gateway Apartments, calling the animal clinics, the shelters, anyone who might come up with a solution to ease the dog’s suffering.  

When he reached Animal Control Officer Wendell Strout, Gagnon hatched a game plan. Strout would help get Reese down to the street where Brayall’s brother would be waiting with a car to take the dog to one of the clinics to be mercifully put down. 

“He’ll be here in an hour,” Gagnon told Brayall. “I know this is hard for you. I know none of this is easy, but just make the dog comfortable for now and we’ll be back.” 

Brayall was satisfied with this plan. Next to her, Reese just looked tired. And Gagnon, with an hour to kill before the animal control officer arrived, headed back to the street. 

THE WALKING BEAT FAN CLUB 

Back on Lisbon Street, one mystery was solved, anyway. Paquette, the convivial panhandler, had returned to retrieve her bicycle. It was her turn to take the spot on the corner of Lisbon and Main where she would spend a few hours seeking drive-by donations from passing travelers. 

Gagnon witnesses the panhandlers’ changing-of-the-guards almost daily. Sometimes, he has to go down there to make sure there aren’t too many of them clustered together at one time, which might make business owners and shoppers wary. Mostly, though, Gagnon lets the panhandlers do their thing and steps in only when someone complains or when the panhandlers themselves ask the cop for help with a variety of issues. 

“He’s awesome,” says Paquette. “He’s my buddy. It’s great having him out here to check on things because there are a lot of people down here who definitely need to be babysat.” 

Gagnon speaks a little more with Paquette, gets caught up on some of the minor gossip, and then heads off to check on another part of his beat. 

“Thank you, Ryan,” Paquette calls out. “I love you!” 

A minute or two later, Gagnon is on Park Street again, talking to some of the old folks sitting on benches and doing puzzles. A grizzled man wearing a “Vietnam Vet” cap glides across the street in a wheelchair, complaining that he was almost run over by a reckless driver. 

“Did you get a plate number or anything?” Gagnon asks. 

The man bitterly shakes his head. 

“That’s OK,” Gagnon advises. He takes down what few details the man has and puts it out as a bulletin so other police officers know to be on the lookout. 

From across the street, a pair of young women holler out to Gagnon, friendly and enthusiastic. This is ZamZam Mohamud, as it turns out, who is resting on a bench with Qamar Bashir.  

Wouldn’t you know it? These women, too, are fans of Gagnon and of the walking beat in general. 

“It’s impressive that he’s going out of his way and making himself visible by walking around the city,” says Mohamud. “Officer Gagnon is engaging with people at a personal level, which is the crucial step to building a rapport and fostering a great relationship with members of the community. 

“I believe it’s a great initiative,” she continues, “to have police force boots on the ground and interacting with community members.” 

I hear comments of this kind everywhere I travel along Gagnon’s beat. The Lewiston Police Department’s decision to restore the walking beat has been praised by people for a range of reasons. And why wouldn’t it be praised? There’s nothing fanciful or controversial about putting a police officer on the street. 

“We’re just trying to improve the quality of life down here for everybody,” says Gagnon.  

That Gagnon volunteered for the beat is an obvious plus for the department. And in him, they have a known quantity — the Lewiston Police rank and file have been acquainted with Ryan since he was just a kid riding around with local cops. 

“Ride-Along Ryan, we call him,” said one veteran officer. 

Gagnon is aware of the nickname. He rather likes it. It’s a fair moniker, after all.  

“When I was in high school, I joined the Citizens Police Academy,” he says. “That’s kind of what piqued my interest in this going for ride-alongs with the officers. And from there it was like, you know, I think I’d really like to go down this road.” 

Gagnon got a degree from the University of Southern Maine and ultimately landed at the Portland Police Department where he spent 14 years. Now he’s back at home and his fan club seems to be growing by the day. 

A MORE POLITE DOWNTOWN 

The business owners along Lisbon Street like the walking beat for obvious reasons. Gagnon single-handedly is able to take care of many of their complaints involving things like loiterers, public drunkenness, vandalism and violations of the downtown smoking ordinance. 

“To some people, these things might seem like minor stuff,” Gagnon says, “but to those who have to deal with it daily, it’s huge.” 

The business owners — and by extension, their customers — tend to feel more secure in knowing that a police officer is always nearby in case of trouble. And Gagnon, they tend to agree, is the right man for that job. 

“He doesn’t want to give people a hard time, but at the same time, he’s like, ‘Don’t take my good graces for granted because I will bust you,'” says Michael Dostie, a business owner and chairman of the Downtown Lewiston Association. “He’s a very reasonable person as long as you don’t try to take advantage of that. With Ryan not being in a car, being out on a walking beat, I think that’s even more compounded a level of engagement. It’s not like he’s going to come down, address an issue and then drive off in a car. He’s out here working and his personality really fits with that.” 

It’s a tricky landscape that Gagnon walks. The business district brushes up against the edge of the city’s dense residential area and with that close relationship come a lot of the problems that downtowns tend to have. Fights, drunkenness and mischief of all sorts occasionally spill over into an area that’s striving to be respectable and welcoming to the public. Gagnon’s presence, according to those who do business in that realm, has already made a profound difference. 

“It’s like night and day, the behaviors we’d see prior to his posting and once his posting started,” says Dostie. “It’s a very different downtown. It was immediate and measurable, the effect he has had on the perception of safety in the downtown business district.” 

At The Vault, a high-end wine, beer and liquor store on Lisbon Street, owner Keith Tannenbaum has made the same observation. 

“It’s great having Ryan around,” he says. “I think just his being visible around here helps. People get used to seeing his face. Having a guy keeping an eye on things is making a positive impact. A lot of people comment that it’s a more polite and vibrant downtown.” 

So, Officer Gagnon walks. And talks. And takes care of whatever problems arise in the hours that he’s out there in the buzzing hive of the downtown. Sometimes he doesn’t do anything at all, which happens to be the right choice in some matters. Sometimes, just letting people know he’s there is enough.

Next to the empty store that once was Victor News, a rather perplexed looking man is pacing back and forth wrapped in a grungy pink blanket. 

“Hi Chris,” Gagnon hollers to the fellow. 

The man in the blanket smiles and waves and for that moment, at least, looks a little more at ease than he did before. 

A lot of the time, the harried people who approach Gagnon don’t need police intervention, necessarily, they just need to get things off their chests. 

Or off their backsides. 

A short time ago, Gagnon was approached by a man on Ash Street who said he had been attacked up near the Big Apple on Main Street. He wanted to show Gagnon his wound, but it was in a delicate part of his body. The man insisted though, so they slipped into the semi-privacy of an alley so the fellow could drop his drawers to reveal the injury to his butt. 

You never know what you’re going to see, hear or discover on the walking beat, Gagnon says. Every day is a new adventure. 

He can’t expound on that longer, though. It’s been an hour and the animal control officer is due at Gateway Apartments to deal with the ailing dog. 

Gagnon heads back up to the fifth floor and greets Brayall with more sympathy and reassurance. Brayall tries a strained smile in response. She knows this is the right thing to do, she says, but it’s tough. Reese has been with her a long time. 

When Animal Control Officer Strout arrives, he fashions a leash into a kind of walking aid, looping it around Reese’s hindquarters to relieve the pressure on the animal’s back legs. With Gagnon’s help, the dog is then led to an elevator and to the street were Brayall’s brother is waiting in a car. 

It’s the last ride for Reese, and while Brayall is stricken with grief, she also appreciates the work the walking cop put in to get the matter resolved. 

“Thank you,” she says, once the dog is safely in the car. “Thank you for helping me.” 

Reese is being taken care of. Paquette’s bike is safe and the Lisbon Street business district appears to be peaceful and happy. Gagnon’s workday has come to an end, but tomorrow he’ll be back for the latest round of problems and issues, big and small, in whatever form they come. 

How long will Gagnon be out there walking a beat? He has no idea. 

Officially, the foot patrol was meant to run only for the summer. Gagnon has not yet been told whether they’ll keep him out there now that fall is coming on, with winter right behind it. 

Popular opinion would suggest that the people of Lewiston would like it to be so. 

“He has already made a positive impact in the community,” says Lewiston police Lt. David St. Pierre, “based on the many calls and emails we have received praising his efforts and his demeanor.” 

On social media, too, people sing Gagnon’s praises. 

“Met him,” wrote Donna Marie Charpentier, on the Lewiston Police Facebook page. “Great guy! Down to earth and approachable. Love him to bits and pieces.” 

“He’s amazing,” wrote Kelly Rose Harris. “He helped me yesterday on Pine Street after being cornered on the street by a drunk man.” 

“A great down to earth guy,” declared Brian Beaulieu, “extremely personable and respectful. A perfect fit for the position. Well done LPD.” 

On and on those comments go, dozens of them from people who have been helped by Gagnon or who simply remember an earlier age when cops walked a beat as a matter of routine. 

What does Gagnon himself hope for? He doesn’t say outright, but if you watch him at work a little while, it quickly becomes evident where his heart is. He likes being on foot, being among people of all stripes. He likes that he knows everybody’s name and that everybody knows his. 

It’s pretty clear that Gagnon is happy to be back in Lewiston again. 

“It’s a great city,” he says, “and we’re trying to make it even better.” 

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