Chicago Police Officer Diane Martino brings a deep sense of personal mission to her work on the force. "All I ever really wanted to do was be a police officer. I was an abused kid. I wanted to help people who didn't really have a voice of their own. It's personal to me," explained the 46-year-old Chicago native, who grew up in Logan Square and graduated from Carl Schurz High School. Martino went directly from Schurz to UIC to pursue a degree at the Jane Addams College of Social Work, an effort she referred to as a "back-up plan" in case her dream of police work did not pan out.
In 1984 she had to drop out of the program to help support the family when her father got sick. Martino, the second of four children, "worked at anything I could get my hands on to make money," including selling newspapers door to door, packing orders in a warehouse and as contract security for office buildings. She attended night school at City Colleges and earned a certificate in security services, which helped her land staff jobs at Columbus and Cuneo Hospitals. She went on to become a letter carrier for the U.S. Postal Service, all the while taking the "numerous tests" for entrance to the police academy. When Harold Washington died in November 1987 a hiring freeze was instituted and lasted during a prolonged period of "mayoral transition." Martino spent the next two years working for the post office waiting to realize her goal. Just before Christmas 1989 she was informed that she was accepted into the academy and, with only four days' notice, reported for training Dec. 26, 1989.
Martino has been self-aware about her sexual orientation "my whole life," dated women beginning in high school and entered the academy as an out lesbian in a committed relationship. She says that she's never experienced discrimination from fellow officers, "you might get a little jab like 'hey Mr. Martino…,' from the older guys, just to get a reaction, but I never took it seriously," she said. "I think we have to be light about things because a lot of people aren't comfortable with your sexuality and it takes some guys time to come around to it. And they do. I've been very blessed in my situation. I haven't been exposed to any negativity from anyone I've worked with, from day one."
After the academy, Martino did her training year in the 19th District ( Belmont and Western ) and then was assigned to the 20th ( Andersonville ) where she spent eight of the next ten years working the midnight patrol shift, as well as working with new recruits in field training and a variety of other assignments.
Martino has been an active member of LGPA/GOAL-Chicago ( Lesbian and Gay Police Association/Gay Officers Action League ) since 1992 when she learned about the organization ( then LGPA ) through an article in OUTLINES [ an earlier publication of Windy City Media/Windy City Times ] . "It blew me away. I tracked down LGPA co-founder Mary Boyle to thank her for being the voice of the LGBT officers and to find out how to get involved," she said. She will, of course, be helping out at the 14th International conference during Pride Week.
Martino, who transitioned from patrol to administrative duty in 2000 due to back surgery, was one of the first members—and one of the first openly gay officers—on the force's citywide bike team. "It was the best summer of my career," said Martino of the May-November 1996 assignment during which she logged almost 1,800 miles patrolling the lakefront.
"You see me smiling? We were based out of Meigs Field. How cool is that. We got assigned to different districts every day. We went as far north as Hollywood Beach, as far south as the South Shore Cultural Center. We did beach checks, park checks, worked with park district employees to make sure everything was okay; did they have any creeps hanging around? And we watched people. You'd see regulars selling dope. With the bikes it was great because you are silent and can sneak up on these guys. We made wonderful arrests." Martino explained that bike officers would initiate the arrest, call for transport cars for the suspects and then meet the squad officers at the district office to fill out the arrest report. "We covered a lot of ground. I was also training for the AIDS ride that year, so it was perfect."
"Police need to me more approachable. People need to see us as human beings and with the bad press I think we're viewed as unapproachable," she said. "We get into this business to help people, bottom line. So for me that was what was so gratifying about being on bike patrol, it was personal. You were up close to people and they'd approach you without hesitation. They thought it was the coolest thing; it made you more real. They saw you out there working and riding your bike for miles and getting up right next them asking how they were doing—whether it was talking to a tourist or helping somebody out with a boat break-in or whatnot. You got a lot of feedback, folks saying that they loved seeing us out there with them.
"I'm a street rat. It's what I love," she said. "I love to interact with people I love to get the hands on. You really feel like you're making a difference when you're a first responder on the scene—whether it's getting the gratification of locking up a bad guy or giving a hug to a victim who needs it."
Although she's no longer on the street, Martino still feels a sense of connection through her current assignment as intake officer in Area 5 ( Grand/Central ) special victims unit. She deals with juvenile arrests, domestic violence, elderly abuse and missing persons cases. She triages incoming calls from district offices for the detectives and helps manage their case loads. She also works directly with citizens to connect them to the right social service agency. Calls are often from distressed parents who are in crisis attempting to manage their children.
"Not everything we deal with is criminal, a lot of it is just dysfunction," she explained. "It might be a child that has not been diagnosed with ADD [ attention deficit disorder ] . They need help; they don't know what's going on, what the problem is or where to turn.
"I love everything I'm learning. Every interview is so different, every victim. Every offender has their own story, especially with kids. I think a lot of kids who are bad are just trying to survive because they don't have a good home life. They join gangs because they need some sense of family. They might not have sense of family at home and they have to turn to something. We try to listen to these kids and try to find out how they got to where they are at and how they got in trouble. 'Where's mom, where's dad, who can you count on?' Not all kids are bad; they just don't know what to do and are trying to survive. I feel bad for them."
Martino's simpatico with young people likely stems from a combination of her experiences as a youth, a natural affinity for children and animals ( she and her partner Tina Kachold, a veterinary technician, have four well-indulged cats ) , and her deep love for her own daughter.
Martino's eyes light up when she speaks about Dayna, who will turn 18 in September, shortly after she enters Bradley University as a pre-med student. Despite splitting with Dayna's biological mother Debbie in 1993, Martino has continued a "fabulous co-parenting arrangement" with her former partner. "It's a 50/50 total split. Debbie and I are still friends to this day and it's all for Dayna, it's all for the love of our child."
"Dayna's a great kid. We're tight," said Martino. "We talk every day and she's over here every weekend, every holiday. She has her own room here. She goes to Gay Pride with us every year and her favorite street fests are Andersonville and Market Days. She's very approachable. She has kids at her high school who've come out to her probably knowing that she has two moms—three pretty much—and they feel safe with her."
Martino and Kachold are both athletic, love to cycle together and travel. They even combine the two passions when they can and took a bicycle tour of Ireland several years back. They exchanged rings "at the top of the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier," are couple number 97 in the Cook County Domestic Partner Registry and plan to get married when it's legal in Illinois or on the federal level. "My daughter is going to be my maid of honor," Martino beamed.
Dayna, mom Debbie and grandmother live just 10 minutes away from the Mayfair neighborhood historic bungalow Martino and Kachold share with their feline family. The couple purchased the house in 2002 and they've spent lots of time restoring the classic Chicago home.
"We reconnected during the AIDS ride in July, 1996, It was the best thing I ever did, because it brought me and Tina back together," said Martino, who explained that they'd been "casual friends" since flag football days in Independence Park when they were both about 19 years old. "She'd come and watch me play."
Much of Martino's activism and volunteer service are aligned with both her dedication to the LGBT community and her athleticism. She been a member of the City of Chicago's Gay and Lesbian Advisory Committee, Front Runners/Front Walkers and Tri Women Chicago. She was part of the volunteer security team for the 2006 Chicago Gay Games and delivered meals for Vital Bridges to homebound persons with HIV/AIDS. Her involvement with community earned her a 2007 Resolution Award by the City Council, Mayfair Veterans Committee and Lions Club.
Martino, Dayna and Debbie were also members of Rainbow Families and were featured in a 1992 NBC special news segment on family diversity that helped raise awareness of LGBT couples with children. "It was groundbreaking at the time and really needed to be done."
Martino feels strongly that the top priority of LGPA/GOAL-Chicago should be better diversity education for police recruits. "We need to get into the academy and right off the bat do scenarios and explain to the officers coming onto the street what they are going to be exposed to in the real world in relation to LGBT hate crimes," she said. "Thank God for the Center on Halsted. My daughter goes there with her friends to hang out in the lobby because they can be themselves. My daughter hasn't identified, but she can hang out there with her African American friends, with her gay friends, without being in fear of anything. Youth is a priority, I'm passionate about it."
Number two on the priority list is partnership pension benefits: "It makes me sick to think that if something would happen to me Tina wouldn't get anything. You can name a beneficiary and they get a flat fee payment, but it has to be a recognized, married spouse to be entitled to the real pension payments. We need the police department and the police pension board to back us up on this and support changes for LGBT partners."
Visible and assertive though she is, Martino does not feel that her sexual identity in any way defines her work as a police officer. "When I put on that uniform or that star, I'm the police. My personal business at home has nothing to do with it. Gay, straight, it doesn't matter. When I look at us all—we are all the same, doing the same job, having the same passions, goals, dreams. Being the police is a calling. Do you think that people say, 'Hey, I want to go chase bad guys with guns?" No, you've got to feel it; you've got to want to do it. If you're signing up on this job just for the benefits, it's for the wrong reasons."
LGPA/GOAL-Chicago will host the 14th Annual International LGBT Conference for Law Enforcement and Criminal Justice Professionals June 22-27. During the conference the organization will bestow the "Bridge to Unity" award on actress Sharon Gless, star of Hannah Free. For more information see http://www.goalchicago.info/2010.
