You know a cop is freaked out when panic creeps into his voice and he asks dispatchers to speed things up. There’s an unnerving edge to his tone that pricks the ears of reporters and other police officers.

Such was the case one recent night on Lincoln Street.

The report was of a man lying on the sidewalk and screaming. Routine call. Dime a dozen. Lewiston may be the man-down-and-screaming capital of the state.

When the first officer arrived, though, the man on the ground was not making any noise at all. He was sprawled motionless on the sidewalk. He had rolled onto his stomach, and he was not breathing.

The cop may have sounded unnerved over the radio waves, but he was in control at the scene. Believing the man on the ground may have overdosed, the officer rolled the victim over and quickly applied a sternum rub.

For those of you unfamiliar with the technique, the sternum rub is exactly what it sounds like. With your knuckles, you rub up and down on an afflicted person’s breastbone. Very simple and very effective. The pain response is known to revive a person who’s unconscious from too many pills or too much booze.

Loud, but good

Problem is, they don’t tend to come around gently.

The man lying on Lincoln Street woke with a jolt. He began to kick and flail, and the screaming resumed. It was music to the cop’s ears. It’s like a baby issuing its first screeching cries after delivery. The airwaves are open. The screaming – part anger, part fear – is the sound of life.

The man on the ground was rugged and bearded. He was also disoriented and confused. He screamed and wept and continued to struggle. Plumes of frost shot from his mouth like ghostly exclamation points. The police officer spoke with the man and tried to keep him calm.

“Take it easy, bro’. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Let these people help you, OK?”

The paramedics had arrived, and a stretcher waited. The officer spoke with the man on the ground as if they were old buddies. Man to man. Pal to pal.

“Let us get you up on the stretcher, all right? You just gotta go get looked at, no big deal.”

The tone appeared to reassure the fallen man. He allowed himself to be loaded on the stretcher. He stopped screaming. He appeared almost calm.

It was booze that had caused the man to collapse to the ground and to cease breathing, police learned. A couple of empty bottles of hooch and a long history of failed sobriety revealed as much. No sternum rub could get the man back on the wagon, it’s true. But it was enough to get his lungs pumping again. A quick medical save, some reassuring words and the fallen man was on his way to the hospital.

Street smart cop

I didn’t stick around long. The incident itself was not singular in most ways. People stumble, fall and refuse to get back up all the time.

What struck me out on Lincoln Street that night was the cop. His name is Eric Syphers and he handled the scene, not with a lot of bureaucratic police jargon, but with an astute read of the situation and a quick reaction. No statutes or Miranda warnings, just a little medical knowledge and a bunch of street smarts.

Just a month ago, I was writing about this particular officer after a shooting in the police compound. Shots fired, man down.

Interesting business, police work. One night you’re confronting a stranger in the dark and using police training to administer deadly force. Not so many nights later, you’re bringing a man back from a scary place with sharp judgment and human compassion.

It makes you wonder. When a cop puts on his badge and Kevlar suit before the long shift begins, he has no idea what the night will bring. Will he have to put someone down tonight? Or raise someone up?

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.