Month: February 2017

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: It Happens Every Year

 

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

It happens every year at this time. It’s called, “Flu Season.”  That’s right. It strikes without warning and it can bring grown men to their knees. It affects men, women and kids alike and even can cause weakness in the elderly. 

woman-beside-a-man-suffering-from-cold
Man with a cold

The news channels warn of its pending coming just like it was a hurricane. Suddenly, it’s upon us and were helpless to fight off the symptoms. It’s starts with a weakness in the knees and quickly spreads to the whole body. You know it will pass in a few weeks but it’s too late, you’re already consumed. It has a grip on your body.

 

You go out in the city and there are reminders everywhere. Stores have signs, especially those with pharmacies. Be prepared, plan ahead, but it might be too late. Your doctor has warned you to resist but your past listening to his advice.

 

It can strike at the market or even in your home. Sometimes it hits you with a phone call. You just never know. It can be passed on to you by a young relative or a complete stranger. I don’t know why but their usually female and very cute.

 

Most aren’t able to resist. Sometimes you see it coming and other times it ambushes you. You ignore the symptoms but you suspect they’ve already invaded your body. Is there a cure, yes. But it takes a lot of self-control on your part. 

 

It starts out like this: it’s a beautiful day and you feel good. Then it strikes you suddenly from out of nowhere. Then you hear those immortal words, “Hey mister, do you want to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?”

 

You quickly look around for a place to escape but in your heart, you know there is no escape. You’re trapped. They have a table loaded with cookies that your doctor told you to avoid. Well, maybe just one box and I’ll give it to my neighbor. Huh, who are you kidding? You don’t like your neighbor that much. You buy six boxes, sometimes all Thin Mints, and you know that your neighbor will never see any of them.

 

You’re only going to buy one box and then that little girl looks up at you. You see her mother or troop leader watching nearby. You’ve got it bad this year. Oh, what the hell—give me six boxes.

gs-cookies
Thin Mints

Ok you’ve got it—the bug. How are you going to deal with it? They come with different crazy names like Do-Si-Dos, Samoas, Trefoils, and Dulce de Leche. For us less sophisticated, there are Thin Mints and Chocolate Chip. They have others including a gluten free cookie, but they’re not sold everywhere. 

 

Where did I put my fat pants? You might also have a granddaughter who will be calling soon and you’ll have to buy another six boxes. Wait, are Girl Scout cookies tax deductible? It doesn’t matter. It’s the American thing to do. I challenge you to do your part. There’s no “Flu Shot” for this season and in less than a year it will hit again.

                                                                                                                                                                   Hal

 

P.S. I have personal knowledge that Thin Mints will keep in the freezer for over two years. They’re great with a cold glass of milk!

Hal

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Copland Stories

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

The 1958 TV season gave us a show wherein the narrator intoned, “There are seven million stories in the naked city. This is one.”

I am willing to bet out there in “Copland,” there are at least that many stories just concerning the courts: quirky judges, inept attorneys, naïve victims, witless witnesses and dumb defendants.

 I am going to share some of mine with you.

 

 

When I worked vice as a young officer I spent a lot of time in court—two, three, sometimes four times a week. Most of our “morals” cases were heard by Judge Ida Mae Adams. A sweet, tough, no-nonsense widow, she was tall and slender. She wore a pigtails wig, usually askew. She opened every court session with a prayer and woe unto those who did not show proper reverence. She would clasp her hands in prayer put her head down and pray aloud. She would also sneak a peek over the top of her specs. All us vice guys—usually eight or ten of us—all sat together front row right. Believe me, we “prayed up a storm.” She loved us.

 

 

This one day she must have seen something she didn’t like. All the guilty pleas were taken first (probably 95 % of the cases). Then she heard short quick trials— “he said, she said,” sort of thing. The “non-believer or non-prayer” defendant decided to test his luck. Five minutes later, he was found guilty. The judge asked his wife’s name and phone number then had the bailiff call her. The bailiff then handed the phone to the judge who told the wife that her husband had just been found guilty in her court of “resorting for the purpose of sexual intercourse with a prostitute.” She then told the wife, “He will be home in three days.”

 

Isn’t that double jeopardy?

Come back next Wednesday, March 1 for more Copland stories!

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Why Be a Cop? part 3

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

This is the third in a three part series about why some became cops. The results are from an informal survey sent out by Hal Collier.

Dave was going to be a teacher but after the military he had a wife and small child to support and saw a recruit poster on the side of Hollywood Police Station.

shoveling-17328_960_720Weather was also a factor in some choosing LAPD. Billy was living in Chicago and up to his butt in snow. John was teaching in Michigan and applied at Detroit PD but was told there was a three year wait. His background investigator suggested Southern California police agencies.

Neco couldn’t find work in his ornamental iron trade so he applied to four Southern California police agencies. LAPD called him first. Smaller departments only hired a few officers a year and LAPD hired hundreds every few months, when the timing was right.

Rob joined the LAPD because we had motor officers and the LA County Sheriff’s didn’t. Rob retired a motor officer. A few wanted to be firemen—Craig admitted he couldn’t pass any of their tests. Arnie said he didn’t want to sit around polishing fire trucks all day. Paul said he failed at everything else. Max was an ambulance driver for $7.00 for a 12-hour shift when he saw a Times newspaper ad. Walt also applied after seeing a Times ad.

 

waitress
Waitresses have the skills to make great dispatchers.

Jenny was a waitress at Red Lobster when she teased a friend who kept being delayed for hire by LAPD. He said, “If it’s so easy, I dare you to apply.” Six months later, she was in the LAPD academy. Dan was a business major at USC when he switched majors to Police Administration. Steady income, honorable, a good pension and of course, his grandfather’s cop stories. Dan went on to be chief of police for two other police departments.

 

Lindy was attending Administrative Justice classes taught by an LAPD cop. Lindy asked her friend, “Do you think I could be a cop?” She replied “Yes!” They both became LAPD cops.

Where do cops come from? Just about everywhere. Some planned to be cops, others fell into the job and some were dared. The best recruiters besides Adam 12, were other cops with a few good cop stories! A few said they hadn’t planned on a long police career. But once being a cop, they just couldn’t quit. The bottom line was they all tried it and soon fell in love with the work. Everyone said that it was the best job they ever had and never regretted being a cop. 

–Hal

 

nypd-smiles
NYPD Officers

 

 

 

 

Categories
The Call Box

Call Box: Sometimes I Just Wonder

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

 

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1I can’t explain it but sometimes I just wonder about things. In this case I went online and checked Department of Defense and FBI stats and surprised myself.

Coalition forces in Afghanistan include USA, UK, Canada, France, and Germany.

 

Combat deaths by “hostile action” for all said forces for the years 2014, 2015 and 2016 total 50.

Lower than I thought. Let’s add Iraq, same period: deaths—14, for a grand total 64.

That’s right: 64 deaths by hostile action both zones for three (3) years=64!! Three years.

A sobering fact

Police officers murdered by guns in the United States of America (source Officer Down Memorial Page):

2015……..41

2016……..64

Total……..105!! (total corrected, pardon my bad math–Thonie)

This doesn’t include death by stabbing, vehicular assault, or any other method. Check the numbers for yourself. Ninety-two (92) cops died over a period of two (2) years.

Something is really wrong here.

 

Funeral

It began with a long, slow seemingly endless procession of black and white under a sea of flashing red and blue. Pedestrians, momentarily confused, reacted in assuming an awkward civilian attention, some with hand over heart in respect.

The smell of freshly turned earth, the cloying scent of flowers, hushed voices, a choked sob, the mournful wail of the piper, a muffled bugle, taps, rows of blue, black-banded badges, white gloves, mirror sunglasses, stiff almost self-conscious salutes.

The sharp, crisp snap of the honor guard, polished visors low on forehead over stern visage, the familiar, “whomp, whomp” as a low, fast, tight formation of helicopters suddenly appears. The gasp of the crowd as one suddenly peals away.

Visible flinch at first volley, again and yet again. Seven rifles as one. Women with vacant stares, uncomprehending children with brave faces.

The world now shifts to black and white in slow motion. An ancient memory:

Black draped artillery caisson, gleaming riderless black horse, rear facing boots in stirrups.

A thunder of muffled drums. The honor guard now moves with slow deliberate “mime-like precision.” The flag is folded once, then again lengthwise. Now starting at the stripe end a series of triangular folds, thirteen in all. The presenter takes great care to ensure a “perfect” triangle.

Kneeling and presenting with the straight edge to the recipient, “On behalf of a grateful nation…”

 

Aside: the number of folds has a number of explanations however 13 to represent the original colonies is most widely accepted. The triangle, to represent the tri-cornered hat worn by the patriot/minutemen.

The 21 gun salute has been with us since the 15th century; however I like the fact that 21 is the sum of the numbers in 1776.

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Why Be a Cop? part 2

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

 

A few weeks ago, I asked forty cops, “Why did you become a cop with the LAPD? Who influenced you to join?”

Twenty-four responded and these are what they said. BTW, This survey didn’t conform with any recognized rules for surveys or polls but it’s a whole lot more accurate than the polls for the last presidential election!

My last Ramblings described how I became a cop and now I’m about to describe how twenty other LAPD cops joined the finest police department in the world. I’m a little prejudiced.

I’m going to bunch a few of these responses together because they’re very similar. The cops who responded came from different eras. The earliest joined in 1956 the latest 1998. So there were different economic situations.  I’ll use only first names to save any embarrassment. 

 

mp_inspects_captured_ak-47_vietnamThe number one reason: guys were getting out of the military and looking for a job. Quite a few were married with small children and needed to support their family. The majority of the respondents were fresh out of the jungles of Viet Nam—some were drafted, others joined. Doug liked the military but not Viet Nam. Surprisingly, a lot of them were Marines. A few were in military police and infected with being a cop.

 

Quite a few had low paying jobs and saw no future in their current employment. Skip was earning $1.75 an hour and found that he could be a police student worker (Definition: they work at a police station, filing paperwork and doing odd jobs. They are exposed to cops and their stories, probably closer to a police cadet. They’re usually under-aged to go to the academy) for $2.25 an hour. Brad wanted to be a park ranger or marine biologist but found out the pay was pretty low. Cops get paid better. He was also a police student worker.

 

a12c3_communications3The second highest response was they watched Adam 12 and Dragnet on TV. Ed, the oldest, said he listened to Dragnet on the radio, a real generation gap from the rest of us. My son and I used to watch Adam 12 together. He’s also an LAPD cop. I’ve worked with many young officers whose dads and mothers were cops. Keith watched Adam 12 and read Joseph Wambaugh books. [As did I. My father was an MP in the Army then his retirement job was as a Deputy US Marshal. Some law enforcement blood there. Adam 12 was a big show in our house. Years later, the dispatcher, Shaaron Claridge, who did the broadcast in the show opening, was my model for radio procedure. There was no formal training other than OJT-on the job.–Thonie]

Another multiple response was they were acquainted with a cop and listened to their cop stories. The cops’ stories get to everyone—exciting and dangerous. And cops also had good benefits! Jim replied that he lived three houses away from a LAPD sergeant and the sergeant encouraged Jim to take police science classes. Roger was in a dead end job at Douglas and wanted to join Santa Monica PD. They required a AA college degree so Roger attended classes. The instructors were LAPD and told great stories. Roger never did work near the beach after thirty-eight years with LAPD.

Come back to read the third and last installment of “Why Be a Cop?” on Sunday, February 19, 2017.

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Another Deuces Wild

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

Several more years have passed and I am working with my sometimes partner, Billy Tibbs.

We are in East L.A., an area unfamiliar to either of us, working a narcotics round-up with dozens of teams throughout the city with arrest warrants for dealers.

We are at Hazzard Park, a known hang-out for our two suspects. We have backed off quite a distance and we are using binoculars hoping to spot our targets. Off in the distance, I see a vehicle on Mission Road headed our way.

I call Billy’s attention to it. “Notice anything unusual about it, partner?”

“Well, if you ignore the eight to ten foot piece of telephone pole protruding from the right rear wheel well, the fact it’s doing 20 mph and that it’s on fire—why, nothing unusual at all.”

The very last thing we want to do is “get involved” with a deuce and call attention to ourselves, but we really don’t have a choice. We request a radio car and fire department then we stop the deuce right by the park.

Now the fun begins. He will not pull to the curb but leaves the car in the middle of the street. When he gets out, he is one of the drunkest and biggest people I have ever seen up close—that I’m going to arrest—6’5” or 6’6”, close to 300 pounds, with muscles going to fat.

Billy takes him by the elbow to lead him to the curb when he decides he wants to play. He grabs 5’9” Billy by the throat and tries to lift him off the ground. My sap is out and as I was behind him, I smack him a good shot behind the right ear.

He lets go of Billy, turns to look at me, blinks and makes a grab for me. Billy was on his back like a lion on a water buffalo and I had the impression the drunk wasn’t even aware Billy was there.

The three of us danced for a while, when he suddenly decided he was tired and wanted to sleep. It was only when the fire department arrived that he realized his car was fully engulfed.

As it turns out (and to our pleasure) instead of a radio car, we got the accident unit (T-Car) which had been investigation the missing telephone pole and several hit-and-runs. We were more than happy to give him our deuce.

We never did find our narc suspects. Do you suppose something spooked them?

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Why Be a Cop? Part 1

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

imagesAbout a week before Christmas I sent out a Ramblings survey question to 40 former members of the LAPD. I received 24 responses. The responses were from cops that joined in 1956 to 1996. Many had different reasons they listed for taking the test, some economic others, on a dare. This survey is not recognized by any survey groups or any survey standards. The responses were submitted by both women and men some of which are still working.

 

Here’s the question: I’m doing a little research for a new Ramblings and I’d like some input from you. “Why did you become a LAPD cop? What or who influenced you to take the test?”

Many of the responses were similar and others surprising. I’ll use first names only, to save the embarrassment of a few. Remember, responses were from decades apart and different economic situations. Who’s hiring and what’s the pay?

 lapd-job-application

I’ll start out with my own situation. One of my dad’s hunting partners was an LAPD officer. We use to go to Rams football games together. In my neighborhood, there was a cop who used to come and referee our sandlot football games, on duty. In high school I had a job at a hamburger stand, who didn’t, and it was owned by a LAPD cop, Ivan Pitney. He used to tell me cop stories and I was like a little kid being read a fairy tale book. I decided then that I would be a cop, and only at LAPD. Being only sixteen at the time I had to wait 4 1/2 long years to take the test. He encouraged me to go to college and take some police courses. Two days after my 21st birthday I took the written test for LAPD. I passed the many tests that followed and six months later I was in the LAPD academy. My timing was very good—LAPD was hiring. Others were not so lucky, they had to wait years during a hiring freeze!

 

Not everyone had it as quick or as easy. Many had no intention of being a cop! Next week, the responses for the other 24 former members of the finest police department in the world. Sorry, that’s the way it is in my mind!  

Hal

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: More Deuces Wild

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

I am now three years older and smarter (?) and working Vice with my regular partner, Frank Isbell. We find ourselves behind Hollywood’s exaggerated version of a deuce: curb to curb, then on the sidewalk, slowly through a red light then stops on green where he immediately falls asleep. Needless to say, working Vice, we are “dressed down” trying not to look “cop-like.” Our car however, is the cheapest version made and wouldn’t fool a child. Yet, it fooled the deuce.

We really, really didn’t want to get involved here but you do what you gotta do. Out of the car, he is a friendly and happy drunk. He asked who we were and when told, asked, “Are you sure?”

When asked to walk the line, he got to the end and took off running, yelling for help. With him in the back seat, we pulled into the station parking lot and he asked where we were going. When told it was the police station, he asked, “Are you sure?”

We walked into the watch commander’s office to get booking approval and he told the sergeant he didn’t think we were really the police and he was being kidnapped.

jailBy now, Frank and I realize we have not only a happy drunk but also a funny one. In the small holding jail, he got serious and asked me, please, not to book him for 502 V.C. (Drunk Driving) as he had several priors. I promised I wouldn’t but told him he was being booked for 23102 V.C. I didn’t, however, tell him the vehicle code had been completely re-written. 502 had become 23102.

Then he asked the jailer who he was. His response to the jailer was, “Are you sure?”