In the good old days before World War II, a cop knew where he stood, in New Rochelle, in New York's staid Westchester County. It was Suburbia for the Suburbanites then, and, except for a few rough spots, keeping the peace was a cinch. Every now & then some shady-looking characters in veils and spangles would wander into town, but a good cop would spot them quick for what they were, and run them in. As one of New Rochelle's finest explained it delicately last week: "You know, gypsies—always out to commit some...
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