PROFILES: POLICE OFFICER STAYS UPBEAT DESPITE HIS LONG RECOVERY

It has been more than eight months since Cape Girardeau police officer Dan Niswonger was seriously injured on his motorcycle.

While working traffic control during a 5K run on Sprigg Street April 2, he collided with a van. Both he and his motorcycle went flying. His pelvic bone was shattered in 18 places, his right hip socket was broken five times. His backside was torn to pieces. The list of injuries was extensive.

Niswonger's rehabilitation has been laborious and painful. There were times the doctors didn't know if he would live. And seven weeks after the accident, infection forced the amputation of his right leg, right pelvic bone and right buttock.

But it isn't the injuries you notice, it's the attitude.

Niswonger is determined to live as normally as possible. He's upbeat, not bitter. He's been rather overwhelmed at the community outpouring that followed his accident -- from the financial assistance to the letters and cards from friends and strangers.

In 1977, he was honored as Officer of the Year for rescuing a would-be jumper from the Mississippi River bridge.

Today, many consider him a hero again in his painful personal battle.

At a recent Wednesday night supper at Grace United Methodist Church, Niswonger delivered a short devotional. He told the gathering: "I'm the luckiest person in this room."

Even those who knew him well marveled at his spirit and courage. He has endured 11 operations and 87 days in the hospital. Just two months after the accident, his 69-year-old father, Chester D. Niswonger, died.

The year has been hard for the Niswonger family. And yet Dan Niswonger can be typically found with a smile on his face, and a kind word for others.

He's a survivor with an attitude.

PRINTER TURNED COP

His boyhood dreams weren't about men in blue. A printer by trade after high-school graduation, his first taste of law enforcement came rather unexpectedly.

It was a coincidental conversation with a friend, pitched between car windows, that started it all. The friend was a Cape Girardeau reserve police officer, who encouraged Niswonger to join the ranks.

Niswonger was flabbergasted by the notion. He didn't even know there was such a thing -- weekend warriors in blue who carried a gun and wore a uniform only while on duty.

His curiosity baited, Niswonger tried his hand. It didn't take long for the bug to bite.

"I absolutely fell in love with it. It got into my blood."

He loved the excitement of the job, and the ability to help people.

That was in 1974. Two years later he applied and was accepted into the regular force. He was among nine officers hired in 1976, including the first female officer.

The decision was easy, and yet difficult. He loved the job, but the pay was $2 an hour less than as a printer at Missourian Litho. His wife, Alice, supported the career change.

Later, his dad told him that a great-grandfather, John Grieb, was Cape Girardeau's first city marshal in 1904-05. Perhaps law enforcement was already in his blood, just reawakened.

Today, Niswonger can't imagine doing anything else.

He remains on medical leave from the department and plans to return early next year when his rehabilitation allows.

He married in 1972, right out of high school. He met his wife during Sing Out Cape, an outgrowth of the Up With People organization. They dated three years, and married in what he calls "a match made in heaven." At 42, he's been married half his life.

The support of his schoolteacher wife, two sons, and extended family have helped carry him through. His boys, Eric, 11, and Alex, 17, have been a tremendous help to their dad.

Niswonger's brothers Steve and Marty also served in the police reserve. Steve went on to the regular force, but transferred to the fire department after nepotism was disallowed.

His father lost his left leg below the knee to diabetes nine years before his death. "But that never kept him down. He was always in good spirits. I learned a lot about that from Dad."

He also depends on his brother, Steve, now a captain at the fire department. "He mows the grass, washes the car and helps me out tremendously."

HEROISM AND DANGER

His reserve training allowed him to hit the streets faster than several of the other new recruits. That also meant more paperwork.

One drastic change that the full-time job brought was shift work. Then, the department had three shifts for street officers -- 7-3, 3-11, and 11-7 -- which changed monthly.

"Sleeping days, you have to learn to put up with the noise -- lawn mowers, chain saws, Weed Eaters, and the school. It was a big adjustment at first."

Occasionally, the job turned dangerous, especially in domestic disputes. He remembers one woman who came into the station to report her husband had assaulted her. Niswonger and another officer went back to the house. They found the husband stark naked in bed. They ordered him to go down to the station, and the man said he had to get dressed first.

He reached in the closet to get his clothes and shouted "Where's my (expletive) gun?" His wife answered back, "It's right here," and the officers found themselves in a crossfire standoff with the wife shaking like a leaf.

The officers talked her out of the gun, but Niswonger said he learned a lesson. "Next time, a suspect was going to the station naked, or we were going to get his clothes."

Shortly after he joined the regular force, officers were called to the Mississippi bridge where a distraught woman was threatening to jump. She was hiding among the girders under the bridge.

Hours of negotiations by a number of officers followed.

Safety equipment was requested, but all that was on hand were a couple of ropes and some safety belts. Two officers tied ropes around their waists and went over the bridge railing.

At one point the woman disappeared from view, and Niswonger scrambled over the bridge rail. "I hunkered down and hid behind one of the girders. I know that seems pretty impossible, but they're pretty big."

As the two other officers searched for the woman, she backed up near Niswonger and he grabbed her.

"She beat me with her fists and my glasses fell off, but they fell between me and her. Believe me, I left my fingerprints on those girders I was hanging on so tight."

He hadn't realized at the time, but the river was so low that the fall would have probably killed him.

The newspaper at the time praised Niswonger and his "Hoss Cartwright stature." Niswonger laughs: "I always liked Hoss. I just felt like I was doing my job. Any other officer would have done the very same thing."

In addition to an Officer of the Year award from the VFW, he also received a letter from the city -- part congratulation, part reprimand.

"The city manager said I had disobeyed a direct order by going over the bridge without safety equipment. I can't remember such an order. I was surprised by the letter."

A LOVE OF MOTORCYCLES

In 1983, the department earned a state grant to upgrade its traffic division. Two motorcycles were bought and two additional officers were transferred to traffic, including Niswonger.

He loved the motorcycle duty.

Niswonger didn't get involved with motorcycles until his 30s, although he had always liked them. He owned a bike when he took over his motorcycle duties at work.

"What more could a man ask for than to get paid to ride a motorcycle on the job?"

But the elements could be grueling, such as the visit by Marilyn Quayle in a downpour. But memories of leading the Olympic torch and the motorcade of President Ronald Reagan stick with Niswonger.

"Thousands were cheering and clapping along the route. You have to remember they're not cheering and clapping for you," he teases.

As a motorcycle officer, he was often closer in proximity to the dignitaries he led. That may mean a handshake to a president or vice president, or a talk with a Secret Service agent.

DEMANDING REHABILITATION

The rehabilitation from the accident has been demanding. Typically, he goes to physical therapy three times a week for two hours a day and comes home exhausted. Slowly, but surely, it has increased his strength and endurance.

But the pain continues. Sitting for long periods can prove painful, but so can standing on one leg for extended periods of time.

He stops and grimaces as very real, but phantom, pain shoots up his right knee that is no longer there.

"The pain is getting better, but it's still substantial at times, especially in my right leg and foot."

He praises the staff at St. Francis Medical Center for the care he has received. "They may have saved my life in St. Louis, but the nursing care is so much better here. Maybe it's because I'm a hometown boy and they know how to take care of their own."

When his father got sick, the doctors told Niswonger he could visit if the pain could be managed enough to get into a special chair-bed.

"I never got good enough," he says quietly.

But when his father elapsed into a coma in St. Francis intensive care, the nurses helped him get into the chair to see his father twice.

When his father June 7, hospital workers also helped him get to the funeral in a special, handicapped van owned by a staff member.

Several Cape Girardeau police officers attended the funeral in uniform as a tribute to their injured friend. Sgt. Al Moore, his immediate supervisor at work, drove the van.

"I asked Al if I could use the radio when he called to headquarters."

Niswonger used his radio designation -- Traffic 52. The radio was silent for four or five seconds as officers were surprised by the familiar voice.

"I just told them I'd like to thank all the officers that participated in the funeral escort. And then all the officers, one by one, signed off on the radio with their badge numbers. It was touching."

The response from the community after his accident was also heartwarming. More than $23,000 was donated by the community. The city's workers' compensation program has taken care of the medical bills, which has topped $332,000.

Niswonger plans to use the money donated from the community to help build a handicapped-accessible home.

His 20-inch-wide wheelchair can't get through any of the doors in his home of 20 years near Alma Schrader School. He can't get downstairs, and has been unable to take a bath in his own home since the accident. Anything low in his home is his enemy.

He hopes to build next year. Although it is not enough to build a home, Niswonger says it is time for the community to go on to help someone else.

"They've been so kind to me. I don't want to wear out my welcome."

Niswonger has a prosthetic leg, but it is very difficult to use because he has no hip joint and only half of his pelvic bone.

"There's really nothing there to swing the leg forward. I have to use my upper body to propel it, and that's difficult. There's a 95 percent failure rate with this leg, but I hope to be in the 5 percent that can wear it."

The strain on his upper body has strained his shoulder, and future surgery on his rotator cup is possible. But it would require him to lay in bed for two months, which doctors feel would devastate his recovery.

"I've had 11 operations and that's enough for anybody in one year."

ONE DAY AT A TIME

He's not on pain medication any more, due to worries about its habit-forming nature. Niswonger can drive himself, and takes his wheelchair along. At home, he uses a walker.

He takes one day at a time, and says he feels pretty good most days.

"I am lucky for so many different reasons. In my position I see all the goodness that comes from people's hearts."

The support has come from individuals as well as churches throughout the area.

"When people suffer tragic losses, I don't know how they would do it without a church on their side. The outpouring of love from the church community, and not just my own church, has been amazing. Churches as far away as Norway have sent me letters. They've all put Dan on their prayer list."

He remembers a card from a seventh-grader with leukemia in remission, who tried to boost his spirits. And another from a third-grader from Jefferson School who drew a syringe on the inside of the card and said, "I bet you don't like these anymore, Policeman Dan."

He laughed until it hurt.

Niswonger is looking forward to the new year, with new challenges and opportunities.

"Just come with me to physical therapy on any given day and you'll find someone who's worse off than you are. Yes, there are times you wonder, Why did this have to happen to me? But you can't dwell on it. You can't change it. I try to be an inspiration to others. A lot of people have been an inspiration to me."

Dan Niswonger is just taking one day at a time, with a prayer and a smile.

What else can a hero do?