Jokes and justice Law enforcers vie for 'World's Funniest Cop'

ST. LOUIS -- Consider it a little cop humor.

Police officer Michael Mancini, 42, from Santa Cruz, Calif., jokes that if he's being honest, he really doesn't want anyone to die at the end of his shift. What he really wants is to go home for his time off. He kids that's what he was thinking one night when he directed his flashlight into a car at a man slumped over the steering wheel.

"I go, 'Thank God, you're not dead.' And he goes, 'Are you sure, dude, 'cause all I see is a bright light. ...'"

At the annual conference of the American Society for Law Enforcement Training -- which met Monday through Saturday in St. Louis -- law enforcers brushed up on everything from "CPR to tactical response issues," noted Van Benton, director of operations for the Frederick, Md.-based group that has about 5,000 members.

But perhaps the most anticipated part of the meeting was a Friday night showdown to see who would win the title of World's Funniest Cop. And it's far from amateur hour. Last year, in California, Jay Leno hosted the event.

But are police officers funny?

"When I think of cops, I don't think of wacky fun," said comedian Chad Riden, 28, from Nashville, Tenn. That changed for him when he met Dan Whitehurst, 41, a detective for the Nashville Police Department who won the competition in 2001, and Riden learned the detective, now a friend, had a gift for humor.

Humor can be a secret weapon on the job for police, those taking part in the competition said. It defuses tense situations; it helps morale within a department; and it can keep criminals appropriately off balance.

"Humor with a suspect I'm investigating, it can kind of humanize me," Whitehurst said.

"Comedy is a powerful tool. If we weren't funny, we'd be firemen," joked Mancini, who works with the Santa Cruz, Calif., harbor police.

The competition drew an audience of about 450 people in a ballroom at the Adam's Mark Hotel. Last year's champion, Mancini, and Whitehurst competed against Jim Keith, 60, who works in communications for the Des Peres Police Department in suburban St. Louis.

Keith was transformed from an unassuming guy who works with juveniles in an anti-crime program -- and who called the opportunity to perform stand up in front of the crowd "a blessing" -- into his tank top, plaid boxer-wearing stage persona, known as "The Dad."

His routine included stories about his "two wonderful kids," including a daughter who turned 16. "She just got her hunting license. I mean learner's permit," he joked, saying the teen kept confusing pedestrians with "bogeys at two o'clock."