By Bill Forry

It's Friday night. You just got paid. The party's hoppin'. You know the rest of the song.

Of course, what Rick James didn't mention was that party time on a tightly-packed city side street- especially in the summer- can become a real nuisance, real fast.

Whether it's a full blown block party- or just a lone wolf with a hibachi, a transistor and a slight volume-control problem- noise complaints in Dorchester inevitably go through the roof starting in June. Narrow alleyways, three decker porches and postage-size back yards- left barren for much of the year- become prime real estate for summer-time gatherings.

But, the proximity to neighboring homes doesn't fluctuate with the mercury. And, with windows open for ventilation, December's distant drum beat can become a pulsating pain for the uninvited of July.

Just ask the police at the Area C-11 stationhouse in Fields Corner, who have a special unit set up just to handle the calls that inevitably come flooding in this time of year.

The Party Line- as it's known- is entirely separate from the familiar 911 emergency number. With its own hotline, dispatcher and response units, the Party Line is made up exclusively of officers who are working overtime.

At right: Officer Kenny Sabedo in C-11's jail.

Word of the program has been spread through local newspapers, civic groups and by word-of-mouth. The hotline has helped district eleven divert an average of 700 calls per summer from the 911 system since it started in 1996. That's allowed the district's patrol cars to stay focused on the steady stream of other, more pressing emergency calls, without ignoring what can be a major quality of life problem.

"The idea came out of (Area C-11's) neighborhood advisory council to address some weekend quality of life issues," says Captain Robert Dunford, who crafted the program. "We experimented over the years with different ways to respond to these kinds of calls. In the normal course of a Friday or Saturday, they would not get serviced."

Now, Dunford says, complaints about loud parties or noisy neighbors get a prompt response during the hours when the most calls come in: Thursday through Sunday nights. Normally, four officers- including a sergeant- make the rounds and their mission is clear: knock the noise levels down, avoid a confrontation and educate the public about the law.

Only, don't call them the party poopers.

The Reporter observed several members of the Party Line unit on a recent, steamy Saturday night, which was apparently a great time for a party. In the course of three hours, the party line was dispatched to a half-dozen different addresses in the district. And, though not always greeted with open arms, the team's tour of duty showed that a little humor- and a lot of street smarts- can go a long way.

The nerve center for the operation is a simple wooden desk on the second floor of the Gibson Street station house. A slightly outdated push-button phone has been transformed into "The Party Line." Two miniature champagne bottles have been scotch-taped next to the number buttons, just in case.

On this particular night, Officer Jack Boyle is taking the calls as they come, recording them in a red-covered log book before using a nearby radio to dispatch a mobile unit to the scene. It's all relatively low-tech for this modern police force, but Boyle says it gets the job done. And, he's still impressed by the growing number of people who are tapping into the resource.

"Most people have been taught for so long that you should call 911," says Boyle, who says that some neighbors like the fact that the party line's callers don't have to be identified by name.

"If they call this number, they're identity doesn't go out over the air," he says.

The regular beat officers seem to appreciate the fact that the Party Line can take a number of these nuisance calls off their nightly 'to-do' list. Officer Kenny Sabedo, who is usually out on routine patrol of the district, says that loud party calls are often the ones "you don't want to hear."

"In Dorchester, most of the time, it doesn't have to be that loud," says Sabedo. "I tell people that it's the bass. People don't realize how far that carries."

"It can really be a catch 22, because you want to satisfy the caller and still be 'officer friendly'," says Sabedo.

Tonight, it's Sergeant Jim Meredith's turn to walk that fine line. Meredith- who normally works in South Boston- has decided to earn some overtime by heading up tonight's Party Line team. Already, his shift has intercepted a group of young men- guests at a nearby cookout- for drinking in public on Greenmount Street. The beer was unceremoniously dumped down the drain, says Meredith, a 10-year veteran of the department.

Now, minutes later, his cruiser is pointed towards Bloomfield Street, where a call has come in for a "loud party." It's about 9:00 p.m. when Meredith's two-car team pulls up at the address. Meredith greets a group of young kids on the sidewalk with a big smile and a "How ya doin'!" The kids respond well to the 10 year-veteran and his back-up team, greeting them in kind and gushing over their uniforms and handcuffs.

There's definitely a good time being had in the backyard of this home off of Geneva Ave. Smoke is wafting from a large grill, the beat from a Caribbean song is pulsing along the alley fence and a DJ is adding to the decibels with his own hand held microphone. It's loud, for sure, but definitely a family event. An older couple comes forward to claim ownership of the shin-dig, a gathering to celebrate their adult son's birthday.

"See, you forgot to invite one of your neighbors! That's the problem," laughs Meredith, who tells the owners to lower the volume before heading back to his cruiser. The folks here seem innocent enough and this party will go on, for now at least. Once the clock strikes 11:00pm, though, a city ordinance kicks in that will give the police more latitude to order a full halt to the festivities.

Still, a big crowd and lots of alcohol can be a volatile mix- and despite the late hour, the party patrol may opt to fight their battles another day. That's what happened earlier this month when the patrol responded not once, but twice to a home on Center Street. More than a hundred people packed the yard and house, according to Captain Dunford, and the responding officer sensed that the mood was about to turn ugly. Although he could have waded in and made at least one arrest, Dunford says the sergeant on duty decided to summons the homeowner to court instead. They will face criminal complaints, something that should make them think twice before hosting another July Fourth beer drinking contest.

"We're not looking for a confrontation, so we backed off," said Dunford. "We would have had to call in outside help to deal with it- and we will if it's necessary.

"We normally give people the opportunity to stop doing what they're doing," he says.

Dunford says it's a wise move to let neighbors in on the big party- and says his officers will sometimes get a heads-up, too. That's apparently what was done at one home on a sidestreet off Geneva Avenue, which has spilled over into a vacant lot, where a crowd is literally being bounced by a booming sound system. No calls for this address, though. By the size of it, Meredith surmises that it's an annual party and must have the neighborhood's blessings. The party patrol moves on without even stopping.

That's not to say the all-for-one strategy is a sure-fire way to duck the party patrol. An hour after he pulled off to a sidewalk of grins and waves, Sgt. Meredith is back on Bloomfield Street. It's about 10:15pm and someone's called in another complaint about the backyard soiree. Another driveway conference ensues, the volume is adjusted dramatically once again- and Meredith is back behind the wheel moments later, chuckling to himself.

"They think they know who called them in," he says. "They said, 'Last year we invited him and he came and drank and ate and then went home and called the police on us.'

"Everyone always thinks they know who called," he says.

It's not far-fetched to think that a vindictive neighbor might abuse the Party Line to antagonize an enemy over the fence. Officer Boyle, who's working the phone tonight, says he can sometimes "sense" that in a caller's tone.

"But I don't make that call," he says. "I'm gonna let the officer in the field make that decision."

And, according to Dunford, there is a lot that is left to the officers' discretion.

"You really can't have black and white rules about parties because a lot of these are block parties or birthday parties and people just don't know what's happening," he says.

It's closer to 11:00pm now as Sgt. Meredith pulls up to a group of about a dozen young people who have stationed themselves in front of a vacant lot on Rosseter Street, not far from Four Corners. They're well dressed, clean-cut and seem harmless, except for the beer bottle one of the young men is attempting to hide behind his leg. The red cooler and boom-box at their feet has the sergeant's attention, too. He suspects they combined to annoy whoever dialed up the party hotline a few minutes ago.

Sgt. Meredith strikes up a conversation with the twenty-something man who claims to be the only one of the bunch drinking in public. He lives across the street, he says, and was just about to go inside.

Another member of this sidewalk party seems to contradict him, though.

"We've been out here for three years and we've never had a complaint," says the young man.

"Well, somebody complained," says Meredith. "That's why we're here. We didn't spend the last five minutes trying to find Rosseter Street for nothing."

Meredith's tone is coy, not cold. His wiseguy style seems to put most of the group at ease- and even the beer drinker manages a nervous smile. It's wiped away as Meredith asks him to open up the cooler, which is stacked to the roof with Heinekens.

"This is what they call a quality of life issue," says Meredith, who goes on to explain that police surveys show people are less concerned about being murdered than they are about public drunkenness. "People don't like people drinking in front of their house."

Meredith proceeds to take the name and address of the public drinker- a process known as F.I.O., or For Information Only. As his friends begin to quietly protest, anticipating his arrest, three more Party Line patrolmen are at the ready, just feet away. One cop confides that it's a $200 fine for drinking in public.

Meredith finally agrees to let the anxious group move on, with the caveat that they clean up their trash, take it inside and keep it down.

"Do I need to call my lawyer?" asks the young man as his friends gather up their goods.

"Not unless I have to come back here. If I do, you'll be summoned," Meredith promises with smile.

Fortunately for this guy, Meredith is soon onto the next stop on Columbia Road. His shift will soon be over- and another round of party liners will take it from there. Every weekend, until the week after Labor Day.

For now, C-11's party line is strictly seasonal, and even as more police districts begin to replicate district eleven's innovation, there's no immediate plans to expand its scope. As it is now, Dunford is obliged to seek out special grant money to pay for the expensive overtime shifts that staff the Party Line.

For now, anyway, feel free to use the service whenever a neighbor decides to turn their backyard into Dorchester's own version of an after-hours Studio 54. And forgets to tell you.

"No one here's against people having a good time," says Officer Boyle. "But, let's be reasonable."

(Area C-11 residents can call the Party Line at 617-343-5649 on Thursdays from midnight to 4:00am, Fridays and Saturdays from 8:00pm-4:00am and Sundays, 8:00pm-midnight)