By Chris Cassidy
SALEM — It's 9 o'clock on a Thursday night, and Salem's downtown streets are mostly quiet. But there are already signs it will not stay that way.
On Washington Street, a young woman clutches about a dozen balloons as she heads inside O'Neill's Irish Pub. A disc jockey hauls a case full of equipment into Fresh Taste of Asia. And hip-hop and classic rock sounds can be heard from cars whizzing by in search of parking spaces.
Inside the city's downtown bars tonight, 21st birthdays will be commemorated, shots will be poured and numbers will be exchanged. And just before 1 a.m., when the taps stop flowing and the lights turn on, a raucous mass exodus of patrons will spill onto the city's streets and sidewalks.
On busy nights, when Salem's roughly half-dozen downtown bars all reach capacity, the crowds can easily swell to between 1,200 and 1,400 people.
The task of controlling the departing revelers falls to two Salem police officers who walk the downtown between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.
It's often a lively assignment.
Last weekend, police found a man bleeding from his nose and mouth on Barton Square after his girlfriend's brother allegedly began punching him in the face. The victim had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital.
Two nights later, police broke up a shoving match on Washington Street between two men — one of whom was carrying an illegal folding knife.
Tonight, Detective Dennis Gaudet and Officer Mike Page walk past Rockafellas, where "Country Music Night" has drawn a sparse crowd of a few dozen people.
The real action, they quickly find out, is across the street at O'Neill's, where a small group of 20-somethings smoke cigarettes by the door and the pounding bass from the DJ can be heard from across the street.
Outside, three girls who look to be in their early 20s start screaming incoherently and run across Washington Street before disappearing around the corner.
It's 11:30 p.m., and there are concerns that an uneventful night may start to turn.
Gaudet and Page walk the perimeter of the downtown several times during their shift, stopping to chat with bouncers and assess the number — and state — of the patrons inside.
At Tavern in the Square, they glance through the bar's tinted windows at a few dozen patrons who are watching highlights of a 10-3 Red Sox win over the Kansas City Royals.
At Murphy's — a bar that was recently disciplined by the Licensing Board for problems after last call — staff close up the patio around 12:15 a.m. and order customers back inside. There haven't been many problems here in recent weeks, and staff members have been genuinely cooperative, police say.
"They've gone above and beyond with the crowds, moving them along," Page says.
There won't be any issues at Murphy's tonight. But the other side of the downtown will be a different story.
A few minutes later, Gaudet and Page are walking down the pedestrian mall when Gaudet notices something suspicious and bolts across Washington Street.
It's one of the three girls who were screaming incoherently an hour earlier. She is now in front of the "Bewitched" statue with her pants down, urinating on the sidewalk.
Gaudet doesn't hesitate and promptly slaps the handcuffs on the giggling girl.
"I'm just so drunk," she tells Gaudet. "I'm so drunk. I just turned 20 years old. My best friend is home from the military for three weeks."
The inebriated, underage girl couldn't have picked a more visible place for a disorderly conduct charge — in the middle of a wide open city square, in plain sight of a police officer, and directly in front of a security camera owned by TV Land to monitor the "Bewitched" statue.
The implications of the arrest apparently haven't settled in yet because the girl can't stop laughing. Her two friends walk around the corner, see her cuffed and realize their night in Salem is over.
"Why don't you guys start walking down to the police station to bail her out," Gaudet suggests.
"How much? $40?" one of the girls asks.
Meanwhile, the girl in custody keeps yelling.
"I love you!" she shouts to her friends.
A cruiser arrives, and the girl is placed in the back seat and sent on her way to booking.
"That's the mentality you're dealing with," Page says.
By now, it's 12:45 a.m. and the only bar with a large crowd is O'Neill's, where customers start emptying onto the sidewalk. Gaudet and Page strategically position themselves on the traffic island opposite O'Neill's, keeping a distance but still remaining visible.
"It's important for them to see you," Gaudet says.
There are couples embracing and young people finishing up conversations. A bouncer tells people to move along, and the area is clear within a few minutes.
At Tavern in the Square, someone has apparently knocked over a potted plant because there's dirt on the sidewalk. It's now past 1 a.m., and Gaudet and Page walk up to about a half-dozen 20-somethings gathered in front of the tavern.
The two officers just silently stare at the group, and the message quickly sinks in.
"Let's go home," suggests an unsteady young man in a blue T-shirt. "I'm pretty sure that's what they want us to do. ... Sorry, boys."
"You don't have to be sorry — just go home," Gaudet says.
Though the downtown walking patrol's main focus is the bars, Gaudet and Page do encounter a man named Sam from Maine who's shoeless, shirtless and sitting on the pedestrian mall, staring at the sky and howling.
Believing there may be mental health issues, the officers try to move him along, but he climbs into the fountain by Rockafellas instead. Throughout the night, the officers find Sam's shoes, socks and cell phone scattered around the downtown.
Their shift winding down, the officers agree this has been a quiet night — a good sign, but a possible indicator that Friday and Saturday will be a lot busier, they say.
Approaching 1:15 a.m., Gaudet and Page strike up a conversation with four guys who are on their way home after celebrating a 21st birthday.
The officers share a few laughs with them, wish the young man a happy birthday and reiterate the night's mantra.
"Get home in one piece," Page says.
Staff writer Chris Cassidy can be reached at ccassidy@salemnews.com.
