Category: Ramblings by Hal

After over 3 decades in LAPD patrol, Hal Collier has learned a thing or two. Take a look at some of his stories–you’ll be glad you did.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Hollywood Sign and Georgia Jones

First, my apologies for the tardiness of this post. We’ve been out of town all week and hubby and I both came down with a nasty flu. Being sick in a motel room–no matter how nice–is awful. I’m just now feeling like I could return to the land of the living. So here you are!

–Thonie

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us. 

The following story and the character are icons in Hollywood. The character is very dear to my heart as well as any cop who worked Hollywood in the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and into the 21st century.  Character: Georgia Jones

 

The subject of my story is known to everyone. Cops, non-cops, cops who worked Hollywood, cops who never worked Hollywood, people who never have been in Hollywood. That’s right that famous landmark the “HOLLYWOOD” sign. 

 

There are two major companies that protect their copyright infringement with a vigor that is unmatched. The first is Disney. They will take you to court in a heartbeat for any infringement of a Disney logo or character. Try buying a non-licensed Mickey Mouse piñata downtown. The other is the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce—try using a reproduction of the Hollywood sign without their expressed written permission.

 

All police stations have T-shirts, baseball caps and jackets with the division name and a logo. The station would sell them and use the profit for the station fund. Well, Hollywood Division had the Hollywood Sign on Jackets, T-shirts, coffee cups and whatever you can think of to sell. After a short while we were informed by the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce that we had infringed on their copyright of the Hollywood Sign. They agreed to let us sell our T-shirts as long as we agreed to respond to their calls for police service. You can’t blackmail the cops.

 

I don’t know of a cop alive who worked Hollywood that wasn’t asked at least once by a tourist, “How do I get to the Hollywood Sign?” The sign itself is on a very steep hill just below Mt. Lee. It was recently replaced and is all metal. You can still see where graffiti is spray painted on the bottom of the letters which are 45′ tall. The sign is world famous and can be seen for miles away, even in the smog. 

 

Tourists think they can drive up to the sign and have a picture taken in front of which ever letter suits their whim. Trust me, I’ve been on that hill many times and it’s all you can do to keep from falling downhill a hundred feet. Hollywood officers often get calls that vandals are at the sign. The sign was originally Hollywoodland, a housing development in the 1920’s.

 

Over the years the sign’s letters have been covered up to reveal different messages, some approved, some just pranks. The following is a list and the meaning.

 

HOLLYWEED= The California legalize marijuana initiative

 

HOLYWOOD= Easter

 

FOX= Fox changed to a network 1987

 

CAL-TECH= Prank

 

OLLYWOOD= Iran-Contra Hearings

 

OIL WAR= Gulf War

 

SAVE THE PEAK= To prevent a housing project from building near the sign—2010  

The sign is now surround by a fence and a motion detector system to prevent vandalism and trespassers. Hopefully, “Occupy LA” won’t take up residence. By the way, the view of Los Angeles from the sign is spectacular. 

 

Character: Georgia Jones

 

Georgia Jones was a fixture at Hollywood Station for over three decades.  Georgia was the property officer. All evidence booked by officers had to go through Georgia. To some this might not sound like a big deal, but think about losing a big case because evidence was not properly handled or booked correctly. Georgia knew all the rules and wouldn’t settle for anything less. As a young cop, I’d get a message go see Georgia in Property. I learned that it can’t be good, I must have screwed up. Georgia was pleasant and helpful unless you crossed her.

 

Georgia came to Hollywood in the early 70’s, when we were in the old station. The Property Room was in the basement next to the men’s locker room. If I remember correctly, the locker room and property room were separated by a make shift wall with chicken wire at the top for ventilation. Thirty years later I’m a grizzled old sergeant and Georgia admits to me that if she stood on her chair she could watch the officers dress!

 

I once arrested two burglars on Whitley Terrace. In the trunk of their car was a 6 ft. glass table top. I knew it was stolen—come on—no one takes their table top out for a midnight drive. I booked it into property during off hours. Georgia comes in the next day and is looking for me. I’m too big to hide in the report writing room.  She has no room for this damn table and tells me it should have been booked down town. I think Georgia liked me because she said it could stay until they found the owner.

 

They never found the owner and Georgia worked around that table top for a whole year. I know because I heard about it every few weeks. At the end of the year they clean out the excess property and take it downtown. The glass table top was dropped during loading and shattered. Now I hear about that damn table top every time I see Georgia.

 

My last few years I worked in the Watch Commanders office and every weekday morning Georgia would come in and collect the property that was booked during the off hours. Georgia would give me a list of the officers that needed to see her. I remember one young officer who disagreed with Georgia about the proper way to book evidence. I sat him down and explained book it Georgia’s way or expect to get everything you book, kicked back for the rest of your career at Hollywood.

 

As the Watch Commander, most mornings Georgia would bring me a handful of follow up reports where she fixed an error for some officer. Most officers didn’t know that she did took care of them but I knew.

 

Georgia was loved by everybody and when she retired a few years ago, Hollywood Division lost a legend as well a great friend.  Every time I hear Willie Nelson or Ray Charles sing “Georgia on My Mind,” I think of Georgia Jones, a true Hollywood Character.

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Ramblings by Hal

Emotional Graduation

An example of one thing a cop did that was right. KTVU television Facebook page

ORANGE COUNTY, Texas (FOX NEWS)— A police officer who had tell an 18-year-old last week that his parents had died in a motorcycle accident kept his promise and showed up at the teen’s high school graduation over the weekend.

Lt. Eric Ellison was tasked with telling 18-year-old Kazzie Portie his parents died on May 24 when a pickup truck smashed into their motorcycle. The driver of the truck faces two manslaughter charges.

When Ellison arrived at the family’s home, Portie was alone, according to BuzzFeed News. Ellison told KBMT breaking the news to Portie was one of the toughest things he has ever done.

Portie told Ellison his graduation from Cypress–Mauriceville High School was only a few days away, so Ellison promised he would be there to support him.

“I walked up on the stage he looked at me and I looked at him and we both cried and that’s OK,” Ellison told KBMT.

As Portie crossed the stage, the entire senior class stood and cheered for him. After he was given his diploma, Ellison was waiting for him at the other end of the stage.

“If you didn’t have a wet eye you needed to check your pulse, The Montagne Center was the loudest I have ever heard it,” Ellison told KBMT.

Portie told BuzzFeed News he has received an outpouring of support from the entire community, including Ellison.

“Seeing Officer Ellison there to congratulate me meant the world to me,” he said. “It was so nice to see that he actually showed a genuine care for me and my family’s situation instead of us just being another ‘case.’”

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Characters, Stinky Steve

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us. 

The following stories are true.  The character unfortunately is also true. Stinky Steve

This is a tale of the malodorous smells that cops have to endure. I suggest not eating within an hour before or after reading this Ramblings. Trust me! There isn’t a cop alive who wore a badge that can deny that familiar smell of a decomposed human body. There are also a lot of cops who thought a live human smelled the same. Walk down skid row sometime, it smells like death.

There are a few calls that cops hate to get. The first is the call, “Go to the Watch Commander.” Nothing puts fear in a cop’s heart as fast as that detail. Your mind starts racing, “What did I do now? Who did I piss off? Was it that last guy I gave a ticket to or the dirt bag I told to do something anatomically impossible?” You and your partner start getting your story straight as you take the long way to the station. That means making up a lie that you both will stick to. If you’re working with a Forrest Gump type, you start thinking of job opportunities outside of police work. Maybe UPS; they wear shorts in the summer. I used to have the legs for shorts.

When I was a watch commander, sometimes I would broadcast for a certain car to, “Go to the Watch Commanders Office,” when I suspected they were not giving the city a full day’s work. It was nothing more than transporting paperwork downtown, but I wanted them to sweat a little. See? I could be mean when I wanted to. I could also broadcast, “Send any unit to the Watch Commanders Office,” meaning no one was in trouble. See post from May 1th, 2015 for more on “See the Watch Commander.”

Another call is possible DB (dead body). Notice I underlined possible. That’s means someone hasn’t seen a loved one or neighbor in days and suspects that the person may have passed away. Sometimes the days are actually weeks or even months. Cops hated a call that said the neighbor hasn’t been seen in weeks and there’s a smell coming from the apartment. Uh oh, it’s been hot for weeks. This can’t be good. I won’t go into third generation maggots, or flies on the windows. Bet you won’t see any of that on those CSI shows on TV.

Ok, my story. I’m working morning watch and after working all night the sun is just starting to rise in the east. I’m hungry and ask to eat (note: officers have to be cleared to take a meal break by dispatch who knows how many calls are backed up in the officers beat—or area of responsibility). Communications has different ideas. They give me the call from hell,  ”Possible Dead Body, see the manager. Resident hasn’t been seen in over a month, strange smell coming from apartment.” I reply, “Thanks,” instead of “Roger.”

I park in front of the apartment building and get two cigars from my duty bag. Most cops know that smoking a cigar will help with the smell of a decomposing body. I’ve watched many a female probationer smoke their first cigar at dead body calls. Burning coffee grounds on a stove is also another method used to kill the smell. The coroner has a spray that cuts down on the smell but it’s not in the police budget.

We meet the manager and he tells us that some of the neighbors have been complaining of a foul order coming from this apartment. They haven’t seen the resident, an elderly man in weeks. I’m wondering, can’t you call back in 2 hours, when I’m home in bed? If this guy’s dead he not going anywhere. Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.

We walk up to the third floor with the manager. He hands us the keys and walks to the other end of the hall. I unlock the apartment door and crack it open just an inch. I take a very small sniff.  Experienced cops know never take a big whiff because the smell will stay in your nose for weeks. I smell nothing that resembles a dead body. I open the door a foot and take another small whiff of air. Anybody want my job with all the great benefits now? It smells like a trash dumpster but not a dead body. You know, I’m an expert on smells.

I turn to my probationer because he’s going in first. Rank has it privilege. Maybe not, he’s greener than a fresh Christmas tree. I open the door all the way. It’s a studio apartment with a bathroom and a kitchenette. From the hallway I can see the room is filled with trash, newspapers, magazines stacked to the ceiling. The bed is covered in trash and the kitchen sink has old food stacked two feet high. I spend ten minutes inside before I’m convinced that no one is in the apartment. It smells bad but not as bad as I was expecting.

We walk back out and tell the manager that his tenant is a pack rat but he’s not inside. I suggest that he evict the tenant. I saved two cigars and my probationers color is coming back. We get the ok to eat. I have a hearty breakfast. My probationer’s color is coming back but he only orders tea. He’ll learn, I hope.

Hollywood Characters: Stinky Steve

I booked Stinky Steve once and still carry the scars. Steve came from one of those Eastern European countries and I can’t remember his last name. I nicknamed him Stinky Steve, for obvious reasons. Steve did speak a word of English.

Every morning some apartment building tenant would wake up and leave for work. They would open their apartment door and be overcome with an odor that would make a coroner eyes water. Steve might have been wearing the same clothes that he came to America in. Steve had a scent that made some dead bodies smell like a bed of roses. It might have been a defense mechanism, somewhat like a skunk.

Stinky Steve would somehow make his way into a multi-story apartment building west of La Brea. He would curl up on the floor in the hallway and go to sleep. Every morning the first Hollywood police car to clear for radio calls got to evict Stinky Steve from the apartment building. Steve never argued, but then again he might never have understood the cops telling him to never come back.

After months of evicting Steve before my morning coffee, I determined that Steve need to go to jail. I finally convinced one tenant to make a citizen arrest of Steve for trespassing. This is where I pissed off the Hollywood Judicial System. My partner and I handcuff Steve, hold our breath in the elevator and put Steve in our police car. We roll down all the windows and race to the station with unauthorized red lights and siren. We clear out a holding tank, place Steve inside and get some incense to light outside his tank. Bet my non-police friends never thought the brutal LAPD used incense.

The Hollywood Jailer is not pleased but he owes me a favor and books Steve. Steve gets a cell all by himself. Steve refused a shower, go figure. I call the Hollywood Court Liaison, Kurt Rizzi and tell him that I don’t want Steve released for time served, as was the usual procedure. Otherwise I’ll be kicking Steve out of apartment buildings into the next century.

The next morning, I’m in the parking lot cooling off from my run. The jail bus is loading the prisoners to take to court. I pause as Stinky Steve boards the bus. The other jail birds on the bus won’t let Steve sit near them. I’m watching from up-wind.

The next day I hear from the Hollywood Court Liaison that the court sheriff’s hate me for sending Stinky Steve to their house. The Judge complies with my wish and prohibits Stinky Steve from being west of La Brea after midnight.

I didn’t have much dealing with Steve after that but I removed my name tag whenever I walked into Hollywood Court.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Character Angelyne

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.  

Character: Angelyne

 

Angelyne has had her face and body plastered all over Hollywood billboards since the early 80’s.  She has had a few cameo appearances in movies and any cop who worked Hollywood during the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s knew her. She has lasted a long time and no one knows why. She could be seen driving around Hollywood in a pink Corvette, with her platinum blond hair and pink clothes. She was always showing off her medically induced boobs and a very short mini dress. Angelyne was not shy about talking to anyone on the street and she loved the police.

 

I once got an autographed poster of Angelyne which my son posted in his room, even though my wife objected. Most who saw Angelyne up close were disillusioned. She really wasn’t that pretty or even sexy.

 

One night, I worked a movie premier and the party after. I was standing outside the Palace Club on Vine. We had the usual, gaggle of autograph seekers and tourists hoping to see a big time movie star. You know, something to share with their friends back in small town USA. 

 

I liked to work next to the barricades and chat with the people. I would usually ask, “Where you from?” “What have you seen?” and “Who do you want to see?” As I’ve said in the past, I’m not a big celebrity fan and couldn’t pick out Brad Pitt in a two-person lineup. I would often ask a tourist, “Who’s that and what movie has/she been in?” 

 

OK, I’m working this premier and I’m tired, it’s about 11:00 P.M. and I’ve been up since 5 A.M. I’ve been talking to these tourists from Buzzard Breath, Oklahoma, no kidding. Mom, dad and their two teen age daughters. 

 

Angelyne walks out and stops hoping for a photo opportunity. She’s wearing a very low cut top and a four-inch ribbon for a skirt. I look over at the tourists—one of the teenagers looks at the other and sticks her finger in her mouth as if to barf. I laughed out loud and decided I wasn’t so tired after all.

 

Angelyne’s source of income as well as her age are open for debate.  Another Hollywood Character.  

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Radio Call from Hell

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

The following story is true. I call this one, “The Radio Call from Hell.” 

 

In a recent Ramblings, I talked about the radio calls cop hate the most. Well, here is another I saved for your reading pleasure—“Death Notifications.” 

 

I don’t know of any cop who likes telling someone that a loved one has died. Sometimes it’s expected, like an elderly aunt or grandparent. Other times, it’s unexpected, telling someone about a spouse, or relative who died in an accident. These calls usually come in through the Watch Commanders office from a coroner in a distant part of the country or state. Another reason why cops hate “The go to the Watch Commanders Office,” radio call.

 

I’m working morning watch and it’s about 3 A.M.  “Go to the Watch Commanders Office.” Uh oh, I’ll bet it’s that citizen who wanted to make a hit and0 run traffic accident report and we told him to go to the station and wake the desk officer gently. We drive slowly to the Watch Commanders Officers. Maybe we’ll be hit by a drunk driver which will cause short term memory loss.

 

The Watch Commander tells us that a 28 year-old man was killed in a traffic accident in Bakersfield. We need to notify his wife. Whew, I almost confessed to a police department misdemeanor. We get the address which is on Beachwood Drive. I hate this call—wife alone, young. I hope she has family close by.

 

We drive to the address and park our car on Beachwood. Her apartment faces Temple Hill Drive, a cross street. We walk to the stairs and knock. The apartment door doesn’t have one of those peep holes to see who’s at the door and the windows all face the street.

 

A voice calls out, “Who is it?” 

I answer, “Police.”

She says, “I didn’t call the police. What do you want?” 

I didn’t attend the Ann Landers school of etiquette, but I’m pretty sure that shouting through a closed door at 3 A.M., “Your husband is dead,” is not the way to make this notification.

I reply, “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

This is not going well. I tell her, “I really need to talk to you in person.”

She says, “How do I know you’re really the police?”

Fair question. I tell her I’ll stand outside her living room window in the middle of the street.

I walk downstairs and stand in the middle of the street.  I’m in full uniform and looking pretty sharp, if I say so myself. I see her looking out her window at me. She again asks, “What do you want?” 

I didn’t want to tell her that her husband is dead through her front door and I’m definitely not going to yell it from the middle of the street.

She asks, “Where is your police car?”  Ok, that’s another fair question. I’ll go get it. I walk out to Beachwood, drive our official black and white police car and park it in the driveway across from her window. As I’m parking the police car I hear an emergency call for all Hollywood units, “Man impersonating a police officer Beachwood and Temple Hill Drive.” 

“Any Hollywood unit, handle Code 3.”

Oh crap, she called the cops on us! How could this get any worse?  I cancel the radio call. No use in another cop getting hurt racing to this call from hell.

I finally convince her to open the apartment door and let us in.  Now comes the hard part. I had five months training in the academy, I’ve got over seven years police experience working in the field and I’ve never been trained in telling someone that a loved one is dead. She has no family in California and doesn’t know the neighbors. There’s no easy way to say that your husband is dead.  I tell her the worst news she probably will ever hear. 

Her first reaction is denial, disbelief, and then anger. She’s now sobbing uncontrollably. There’s nothing I can say or do that will ease her pain. I won’t go into all the options we offered her but in the end we left her alone in that apartment. Boy, I hated my job that night. 

Now you see why cops hate death notifications. They are never easy. This one still bothers me thirty-four years later.

 

                                           

Hal

Hal’s “Character-Angelyne” will post tomorrow.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: A Cop Character This Time

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

 

The following story is true.  The story is not humorous but once in a while we did real police work. And you thought everything I wrote about was a waste of tax payers’ money. The character is real and again another red headed cop. Darryl Dyment

 

Here I am again on morning watch and responding to an alarm. This alarm was different than most alarms in the middle of the night. It was a robbery alarm at the Gap Store on Hollywood Boulevard. Robbery alarms go off all the time but not usually when the business has been closed for six hours.

 

It’s a slow night and half the division responds. We surround the business which sits on a block of two story buildings. The doors are checked and there are no signs of a break in. As with most cops, we’re standing around and bad mouthing the new sergeant who can’t find Hollywood Boulevard in the daylight.

 

My probationer comes up to me and asks what the difference between a burglar alarm and a robbery alarm? I’m a little annoyed because I have a really good story about this new sergeant. I tell him that burglary alarms are activated by a perimeter break in the alarm system. I then tell him that a robbery alarm is usually set off by a button pushed by an employee during a robbery or when the bait money is taken from the cash register. For my non-police friends, bait money is taken from a slot in the cash register that triggers a robbery alarm when removed.  Banks use bait money.

 

My probationer then asks me, why we did we get a robbery alarm when the business has been closed for hours? Oh shit, this kid has some smarts. I’ll probably be working for him some day, I’d better stop calling him a dumb ass.

 

We go back to the glass front door and look inside. It’s dark inside except for the red light over one of the dressing rooms. Ok, I don’t like shopping for clothes and usually let my wife buy everything I wear. This probationer apparently buys his own clothes and tells me that the red light over the dressing room alerts the staff that someone is in the dressing room. The dressing rooms have a sensor on the floor. I guess it’s some kind of an anti-theft device.

 

We stand there and watch for a minute. I’m missing my chance to tell a really good story about this sergeant. Guess what? A guy peeks out of the dressing room door. I’m pretty sure he’s not an employee who stayed after work to try on the women’s lingerie, but then it’s Hollywood.

 

We break up the coffee clutch and surround the building again. After a search, we discover that two guys tunneled into the Gap from an adjacent stairwell, took the cash (bait money) from the register and then hid. I had to buy breakfast for my probationer. I think he remembered when he was my boss.

 

Hollywood Character: Darryl  Dyment

 

Hi, I’m Larry and this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl! I’m pretty sure this character was one of those Darryls. I’m not sure how my Darryl spelled his name but I’m sure people who knew him will know who I’m talking about–he was colorful to say the least. Darryl was a sergeant in the Los Angeles Police Department and saved a lot of cops butts.

 

Darryl was one of the sergeants who took care of his officers but in a unique way. Darryl’s ways were not always by the book, but by God he got the results the department wanted and cops loved him.

 

I was a patrol cop when Darryl breezed through Hollywood but I got to know him when we jogged together after work. We would go on a 3 1/2 mile run which seemed like a marathon because Darryl had you laughing most of the way. Darryl carried a small revolver and tear gas. It was all I could do just to keep up. Darryl would use the tear gas to spray loose dogs who chased us and the gun to chase away the bigger predators. 

 

Once Darryl wanted to change our running course.  We jogged down Hollywood Boulevard.  What a mistake. The Hollywood Walk of Fame is washed every night, even in drought years. When wet, it’s as slippery as a female mud wrestler. Use your own imagination.

 

Darryl was never one to shy away from a good practical joke and cost was not a problem. Darryl apparently had some front teeth knocked out as a youth. He had caps that he could remove. Darryl had his dentist make him up a few extra sets of caps for special occasions. One set had long hairs protruding from the gap in his front teeth. It was impossible to talk to Darryl and not look at those disgusting teeth. Darryl would engage you a long conversation until you broke down and looked away.

 

Darryl also had a set of teeth that he would put in around Halloween. One of his caps was broken and it came to a point, kind of jagged. He would put this set in and then talk to a citizen or command staff officer. The tooth had a small pouch attached and when Darryl would squeeze the pouch with his tongue a puss like liquid would come out of the jagged tooth. I only saw this happen once but I still have the scar. 

 

That was Darryl, he was a captain’s nightmare but a real good cop and another Hollywood Character. 

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, What Scares Cops?, part 2

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

Ok, so what does scare a knight in armor?  Be prepared to be shocked. 

 

First and foremost, the number one thing that scares a cop is that radio call, “Go to the Watch Commander.” Really, how bad can that be? You’ve spend half a shift doing everything right—well, maybe mostly right. You and your partner immediately go over all the radio calls and traffic stops you made that night. Did we piss off some tax paying citizen and he’s making a complaint? Did the Watch Commander discover that I missed court to go on that three day water skiing trip? Whatever, it can’t be good.

 

When I was the Watch Commander I would monitor the patrol units to see who was working and who was goofing off. If I had a simple request for the transportation of an arrestee to court or the downtown jail for medical treatment, I would get on the radio, and in my best “oh shit” voice tell the goof-off unit to come to the Watch Commander immediately. The officers would come into the watch commander’s office with their tails between their legs just like your dog did the last time he got into the trash. I enjoyed that—they weren’t doing anything productive anyway.

 

So what else scares cops? You handle a call with a drunk or drug crazed individual and you end up in a fight for your life. These fights are never pretty. You win the fight and go home. The next day you discover someone filmed the fight and it’s all over the news and YouTube. You watch the news broadcast and discover the media has edited the fight and only shows you beating the guy who just seconds earlier tried to take away your gun. They show the clip over and over again. Even you begin to think you over reacted.

 

Soon a maelstrom of vocal people are calling for an investigation including the President of the United States. Later a jury sees the entire video and acquits you. But it’s too late, you have been tried and convicted by the media. Your career is over. I’ve seen cops arrested then later acquitted when all the facts were presented. Rodney King happened over twenty-four years ago and is still brought up regularly. This is happening all across the United States. That scares a cop. These types of incidents are usually followed by a large lawsuit filed against you, the city you work for, and the Chief of Police. I’ve seen police officers homestead their homes so they don’t lose them in the lawsuit.

 

“Officer Needs Help” calls scare a cop.  In the 70’s some LAPD car radios had what we called cheaters. A cheater was a second radio that allowed everyone to hear an officers broadcast. This allowed an officer to know what other officers were doing and where they were doing it. The main point was you could hear the officer’s voice inflection. Was he excited or calm?  Ok, the scary part—the cheater radio suddenly blasts out “Officer needs Help.” The officer is screaming into the microphone. Your adrenaline has jumped so high you can hardly breathe. It doesn’t matter how close or how far you are from this officer you’re going to break all department rules to go to his aid. If the officer adds, “Shots Fired or Officer Down” to his broadcast, you’re glad you wore your ballistic vest and you unlock the shotgun. Are you scared? Bet your ass you are! Scared for the officer, scared for his wife and family. It may take hours for the adrenaline to leave your body.

 

Here’s another one that scares cops. You’re on a day off or just off hours. You’re relaxing in your living room watching the ball game. They break into the game to announce, “Breaking News.” An LAPD officer has been shot in the division where you work. Of course it could be any division, we move around in LAPD. They don’t have much information and they hopefully don’t give out the officer’s name. So you sit there and rack your brain, who’s working today and what are my partner’s days off? Yea, you could call the station and try to get some information but you know their busy, so you just wait. You just wait and listen to the news men report what they don’t know. That scares you.

 

Even after they report the officer’s name, and if you don’t know him/her, you’re still scared. Is he or she married and a father or mother. How old are the children? It scares you because you know that could be you someday.

 

You finally retire and figure nothing is going to scare you anymore. Wait, your son or daughter has decided to follow you into the noble profession of police work. You’re proud but you know the dangers. Suddenly all the above fears come rushing back only with a few new ones. Now you know what your spouse went through all those years. A late night phone call or knock at the door will send chills up your spine. Ok, the phone call was a drunk asking if this is Madam Whoopee’s all night massage parlor, but try getting back to sleep after that. The knock on the door is never good, especially if the people on your front porch are wearing uniforms.

 

Ok, now you know some of the things that scare cops and I’ll bet I missed a few. Give me your fears and I’ll add them to my list.  Oh by the way some cops really are afraid of snakes.       

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, What scares cops? part 1

 

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

From the time you’re born, all of us have fears. Some are afraid of spiders, snakes, heights, claustrophobia and clowns. A lot fear speaking in public. I think we all had those dreams of being naked in public. Hell, I still have those. Stay out of my dreams if you want to sleep. Most of us outgrew those fears and moved on to bigger fears. Is the power out or did I forget to pay the Water and Power bill, when is our anniversary? What’s this string tried around my finger for?

 

We all have those things that scare us, but let’s talk about what scares cops. Most cops love their job but want to go home every day to their family and loved ones, even if that’s a dog or cat. They think safety and might use the best taught tactics, but there’s one thing that cancels out all your fears. That’s adrenalin. It’s more powerful than any drug sold on a street corner.

 

Cops will run to the sound of gun fire—not away like most people. I’ve seen cops leave a perfectly safe place, behind good cover as we say, to a danger area, just to stop a threat to others. I was once shot at—in a police parking lot no less! Was I scared—no, I was pissed off. How dare some @##$# shoot at me at my house! I’ve seen cops race to a scene of a “shooting in progress call” to be there first. Did you ever see the video of the North Hollywood Bank shootout? Cops were everywhere trying to stop the bad guys. SWAT officers showed up in their workout clothes.

 

Burning buildings!  Cops will run into burning buildings to save people they don’t know—sometimes when there’s no one to save. Unlike firemen who have fire protective clothing, cops will still enter a burning building in short sleeve blue wool uniforms. Cops have done this all the time. Were they scared? No, they didn’t think about their own safety, just protecting the innocent. I’ve been in a few fires and been treated for smoke inhalation twice. Scared? No, I just didn’t have time to be scared or my intelligence is so low that I don’t know enough to be afraid.

 

America is fascinated with car chases on TV. With the police helicopter lighting up the bad guy’s vehicle, the news copters can follow and get free footage of a real live police chase. They even have a TV show with nothing but cop car chases. Some of these chases are hair raising and dangerous to not only the cops and the car they’re chasing but to any innocent citizen driving on the streets. After thirty-five years, I’ve been in quite a few pursuits. Was I scared? No, just angry that someone would think they could out run me. 

 

Cops can be exposed to life threatening diseases on a daily basis, such as AIDS and Hepatitis. A simple prick on the finger from a dirty syringe in a hype’s pocket or a fight with a blood-soaked suspect. I was once tested for AIDS after giving CPR to a SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) baby. I wasn’t scared but it was worrisome for six weeks until the results came back clear.

 

Ok, so what does scare a knight in armor?  Be prepared to be shocked. 

Find out what really scares cops next week, Sunday May 16th for part 2.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Dorothy, the Button Lady, Characters 10

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

The following story is true and the “Character” is real.  The character might still be out there, but I doubt it—Dorothy, the Button Lady

These stories involve naked women. Nothing can get a policemen hurt quicker than a radio call of a naked women. The radio code is “311 woman.” Male officers will race all the way across a division to see a naked women. I’ve handled a lot of naked men calls but none of them bring back any memories. Must be a guy thing. Female officers are smarter.

My thirty-five years’ experience taught me that most “311 women calls” were not worth the effort or risk. After reading two of the three examples of incidents I’m going to describe, you’ll probably agree.

Its early Day Watch and rush hour traffic has the streets of Hollywood clogged. Most of the cars contain business men and women on their way to a low paying, boring desk job. This story is old, before everyone was on their cell phone. The only entertainment was the car radio and what they saw on the way to work.

A call comes out of a 311 woman at Franklin and Beachwood. Let see, I’ve had my coffee, I’ve got nothing else to do, why not go see a naked women? I fight traffic and drive East on Franklin. I see a police car ahead. Traffic westbound is stopped dead. I get out of my car walk up to the other police car. Standing in front of a convalescent home is a 60+ yr.-old naked woman. She’s dancing around and flopping her shriveled up boobs at traffic. I look over my shoulder at the backed up traffic. There’s nothing but smiles or a bewildered look on their faces. In today’s cell phone world it would have been videotaped and on You-Tube before I got my second cup of coffee.

The officer in charge, Wendi Berndt, is ordering the female to turn around and put her hands behind her back. This lady could be from the convalescent home or high on drugs, it’s never easy to tell and both can be dangerous. Wendi again tells the lady to turn around. The naked lady complies, then shocks everyone within eye sight. She bends over and spreads her ample butt cheeks and moons everyone. If I’d had that second cup of coffee, I’d have peed in a clean uniform. Yea, she was from the home and refused to take her medication. I would have loved to hear some of the conversations in the office that morning. “You’ll never guess what I saw on my way to work this morning.”

The second incident also involved rush hour traffic. Radio call, “311 woman at Santa Monica and Highland; school kids in area.”  It’s my call so I respond. Yep, there she is, a 70 year old homeless women standing behind the bus bench. Her pants are around her ankles and she has relieved herself on the sidewalk. The traffic is stopped and everyone is watching us. I tell the lady to pull up her pants. She tells me to do something that is anatomically impossible. I tell her I’ll arrest her and she says, “Go ahead, I’ll crap in your car.”

Just then, I get a brilliant idea—something new to me. I tell her she will go to jail and I’ll throw away everything in her shopping cart. She says, “Officer, don’t do that.” She immediately pulls up her pants. I tell her to walk westbound on Santa Monica Boulevard to West Hollywood. I follow her into the county’s jurisdiction. Let the sheriffs deal with her.

This last one is the exception to the “311 woman” curse. I’m working Morning watch and it’s about 3 A.M. We finish handling a radio call and drive slowly down the street as my partner is writing in his log.

The only car on the street stops us and asks, “Are you looking for the naked lady?”

Huh? “What naked lady?”

The driver says there’s a naked lady running around on the next street.  OK, my interest is piqued and my partner has put down his log. We turn the corner and see something duck down behind a parked car.

I drive up next to the car and get out.  This twenty-something, drop-dead glorious young lady stands up. She’s not even wearing shoes or earrings. I’m a trained observer.

I ask her, “Why are you running around naked in the middle of the night?”

She says her parents don’t want her to sleep in the nude and she wants to feel free. She asks me my opinion as she stands in front of me, unashamed.

I just swallowed my gum.

I beginning to understand this young lady has some mental issues.  We put her in the back seat of our police car and drive around the corner to her house. We wake up mom who brings out a blanket and takes her daughter inside. Those are just a few of the incidents of naked women I’ve run across in Hollywood.

Character:  Dorothy, the Button lady

I became aware of Dorothy in the 80/90’s.  She got her name from the numerous buttons and pins she had on her coat.  I would see Dorothy walking westbound on Hollywood Boulevard early in the morning. She would sit on a bus bench in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater and wait for the first tour bus to arrive. When the tourists saw Dorothy they wanted to take a picture with her. She would oblige for a small donation. Dorothy preceded the costumed super hero’s that now clog Hollywood Boulevard.

For the most part Dorothy was not a problem, but if anyone tried to encroach on Dorothy’s territory, she would call the police. One morning, I’m a Field Sergeant and a radio call is broadcast. “ADW (assault with a deadly weapon) suspect in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater, Suspect is attempting to hit tourists with a chain.”  I drive up and Dorothy points to a male who is skipping rope. He’s a boxer and is doing the fancy rope skipping.

The tourists are taking his picture and not Dorothy’s. Dorothy wants him to leave. I tell Dorothy that he has every right to be there and I leave. I drive to the station and I’m in the Watch Commanders office when Communications Division calls and says that there’s a lady on the phone who wants to make a complaint. It’s Dorothy and she says that she called the police and the police (meaning me) didn’t do anything. I adjudicated my own complaint in five minutes.

Under Chief Parks it would have been a four week investigation.

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: More Characters–Mean Lawrence

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

The following story is true and the character is, or should I say was, real. He passed away years ago. Lawrence Mescher (sp)

First my story: I’m not the most computer-literate person in the Western Hemisphere. I’m always asking kids to fix some problem with my lap top. My generation didn’t grow up with computers. Hell, we had to read the instructions on a new calculator. Our kids taught us how to play the Atari games.

When I made sergeant in 1993, my new captain said that all paperwork shall be completed on the computer. The dumb ass that I am, I raised my hand and advised him that I didn’t know how to use a computer. He rolled his eyes and said we’ll teach you.

A little knowledge is dangerous. I got a ten minute lesson and dived into my first project. I deleted a whole page that took me an hour to complete. I missed the part where they teach you the save key.

My police department has a policy that anything you turn in is called “Completed Staff Work.” Completed Staff Work means no abbreviations, proper grammar, spelling, and everything else I forgot from English class. I signed up to be a cop not an editor for the Encyclopedia Britannica.

As computer dumb as I am there are some cops out there with less skill. Flash forward a few years. I’m learning to use the computer and I can even load paper and unjam the printer. I come to work one morning and after writing a report I press the print button on my computer. The printer is in the Sergeants room behind the Watch Commanders Office. My computer replies that the printer is not working. I check the printer and discover that the printer is jammed with paper. No problem. I unjam the paper and the printer begins to print commands that were sent to it hours earlier.

I figure I’ll look over the newly printed documents and return them to the author. I stumble across an e-mail by a Hollywood sergeant to another sergeant in another division. The e-mail describes his current lieutenant and what a waste of uniform and air this lieutenant is. He goes on to blast the Police Departments promotion process and if this individual ever makes a decision the sergeant might have a heart attack.

These kinds of comments about your boss are not career builders. I agreed with the sergeant’s assessment, but Jeeze, don’t write it down where it might fall into the wrong hands. I sneaked the e-mail to the sergeant and became an accomplice. The lieutenant promoted and the sergeant and I stayed in patrol, which is where we wanted to be in the first place. Sergeants name (RJ) available for a coupon for a car wash.

Hollywood Character: Lawrence Mescher

Lawrence won’t be known to a lot of the officers who came to Hollywood after the 80’s but some of the early cops will recognize him, not by name but by his reputation. Lawrence hated the cops and the feeling was mutual. He was a thief, a pack rat and often made complaints against any officer who questioned his behavior. Lawrence could be found standing in front of a news rack on Hollywood Boulevard, usually after midnight. Lawrence always had a stack of new newspapers under his arm.

I remember once I got a complaint from a businessman about some bum living in a car. I approach the car and it’s filled with junk. I mean the only place to sit down is the driver’s seat. There’s a six inch pile of papers on the dash. Lawrence is sitting behind the wheel. I ask for his driver’s license. Lawrence replies, “I want your business card and badge number.” I tell Lawrence, “It will be on the vehicle impound report when I take your car.” Lawrence pleads, “Don’t take my car.” I’m amazed when Lawrence pulls his driver’s license out from the middle of the pile of papers—and it’s valid. I won this one. Lawrence moved his car.

Later, Lawrence became a training tool for young probationers. A training officer would see Lawrence and advise the rookie that Lawrence was an arson suspect, which he was. He always seemed to be close by whenever there was a trash can fire. The idea was that Lawrence always gave the police a hard time, refusing to ID himself, demanding the officer’s business card and threatening to make a complaint. This was a good training tool for a rookie. The rookie learned that he was in charge and not to back down to someone just because they threatened to complain.

Lawrence was also a thief. He would stand in front of the news rack until he was sure that the police weren’t around then jimmy the coin slot and take all the newspapers. The newspaper guys couldn’t figure out why their racks were empty and no money was in the coin box.
Lawrence was found dead in a motel on Sunset Boulevard. The motel room was filled with unread newspapers. I’d tell you what Lawrence was doing when he died but it might not be appropriate.
I don’t think any Hollywood officers shed a tear.

Hal