DuPage County's first black police officer, chief blazed trail for others

Nearly 40 years ago, when Bill Simmons became DuPage County's first black police officer, the rookie understood the importance of his role in local history.

"I knew whatever I did was going to reflect on the hiring of the next person," he said. "So, I took it seriously. I made sure I did the work and did it the right way."

During the next four decades, Simmons refused to allow racial barriers to stop him and, in doing so, he not only became the county's first black police chief, but he also cleared a path that allowed others to follow.

The 64-year-old Wheaton man retires Friday after 40 years in law enforcement. Those who worked with him say his contribution to DuPage County is unparalleled.

"I didn't hire Bill Simmons because he's African-American," said State's Attorney Joe Birkett, who 10 years ago tapped him as his investigations chief. "I hired him because he's Bill Simmons. He's a tremendous person -- loyal, hardworking, sincere and extremely honest. He sets a tremendous example, and is a great role model to everyone he meets."

Simmons commands a team of 19 police officers in Birkett's office who investigate crimes like murder, police corruption, nursing-home abuse and identity theft. He also serves on more than one multi-county leadership panel.

His early career, though, was much more modest.

Confronting hate

Simmons grew up on Aurora's east side. His parents divorced when he was 10.

His mother, Yvonne Knight, worked two to three jobs at a time to support her two young sons. It was while helping her that Simmons said he learned the importance of a good work ethic.

He wanted to be a police officer as early as 12. But Simmons crossed paths with bigots long before ever putting on a uniform and badge.

He recalls as a child seeing hooded Ku Klux Klan members walking down his town's main street.

Playing college basketball on a full scholarship in Texas in the early '60s, the 6-foot-5-inch Simmons couldn't stay in the same hotels with his teammates while traveling.

After a year, Simmons said he had enough and returned home. He soon enlisted in the Army and, from 1965 to 1966, saw battle in Vietnam. Afterward, he was stationed in Germany with his bride Sandria, a pretty girl he met years earlier in Wheaton at a party. He told his cousin that first night he'd marry her.

Two years, 11 months and four days after he enlisted, Simmons' service ended and he and Sandria set up a home in Wheaton just in time for their daughter's birth.

But he had experienced a new kind of hate as a soldier. Simmons still was refused service at a restaurant in New Jersey, and some people back then spit on the soldiers and shouted, "Baby killer."

So, by September 1968, he had built up some thick skin. After hearing the DuPage County sheriff's department was hiring, Simmons took the test. He was the first black man to try.

He waited six months for a response. After one never arrived, Simmons marched into the sheriff's office to inquire. He asked if, perhaps, they lost his paperwork.

"Twenty minutes later they said, 'When do you want to start?'" Simmons said.

The sight of a black police officer in the late 1960s was so unheard of, Simmons said, that motorists passing his squad car literally ran off the road. Frequent racial slurs from the thugs, thieves and drunks he'd arrest didn't bother him, he said, because "I'd consider the source."

But he didn't encounter racism just on the street. He felt it, too, from his fellow officers. The older deputies refused to ride with him or back him up on calls. Never one to back down, Simmons said he often confronted his detractors, including when they called him "Willy."

He recalls: "I said, 'Listen. My name is Bill Simmons. Don't call me out of my name and I won't call you out of yours.'"

They got the message.

Dave Hamm, then a senior sheriff's patrol officer, was one of the few who welcomed Simmons as his partner. Hamm is now one of Simmons' head investigators.

Not long after Simmons became a deputy, former Sheriff Richard Doria promoted him to detective -- again angering senior deputies. The often-gruff sheriff had taken a liking to Simmons, whom he'd call "kid."

Simmons continued blazing a trail -- often risking his life -- during the next three decades in the sheriff's office.

'The Mod Squad'

Decades ago, he helped form the county's first drug task force.

Simmons used his ethnicity and street smarts while working undercover to gain the trust of drug dealers, gang members and other undesirables. Driving a junky car, Simmons bought heroin, cocaine, guns and even posed as a Black Panthers pimp buying drugs for his prostitutes.

Michael Ray was one of his partners in the drug unit. He remembers hiding under the bushes at Simmons' home in Wheaton an entire night after a drug dealer threatened to kill Simmons and his family. Ray recalls long sweeps that involved dozens of arrests -- including them, so that their anonymity wouldn't be compromised.

"We were DuPage County's answer to the Mod Squad, minus the female," joked Ray, who left the sheriff's office in 1977 and now works for the Department of Homeland Security at O'Hare International Airport. "This guy would do anything for me and I for him. He's just a natural-born leader."

To bust illicit drug sales in local businesses, Simmons posed as a restaurant cook near Hinsdale and a janitor at a factory near West Chicago.

"I don't like drug dealers because they destroy people's lives," he said, "but I was honest with them and never talked down to anyone."

Despite the danger, he never was hurt. He was one of the original agents in a newly formed DuPage Metropolitan Enforcement Group, a still-active countywide anti-drug group. For years, he supervised and trained undercover agents.

But the late nights took a toll on Simmons, he said, and his family life suffered. He returned to the sheriff's office in the mid-1990s for more-normal hours while supervising its gang unit.

A new challenge

Simmons left the sheriff's department on May 15, 1998, after Birkett named him, as head of investigations, the county's first black chief. Simmons calls it the highlight of his career.

Earlier, Simmons said he made a life-altering change. In 1981, at 38, he became a Christian. Sandria and their children, Yvonne and William, also share his faith.

"There was something lacking in my life," he said, referring to a conversation with his former minister. "So, I sat there and talked to him. He introduced Christ into my life. It was like a weight just lifted off my shoulders. I really believe if it wasn't for that, I would be dead today."

His faith led to his involvement with Koinonia House, a post-prison ministry based in Wheaton, for which he for 10 years served on a national board.

Simmons also is vice president of the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives, Northern Illinois chapter. And he's vice president of a group of black professionals from DuPage, Kane and Will counties who meet regularly to share ideas for improving their communities.

Simmons turns 65 next month. He decided it was time to retire and spend more time with his wife, his now grown children, and grandchildren.

Though he plans to pursue other goals, such as men's ministry, he's looking forward to "catching up on sleep."

He leaves without regrets.

"None whatsoever," Simmons said. "I have been truly blessed beyond what anyone can ever imagine. It's been a long, great career. It was something I've wanted do since the age of 12 and, by the grace of God, I've been able to do it."