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, The Art of Kicking Doors

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

Be sure to click on the links included for some funny illustrations of Hal’s techniques.
To the best of my limited knowledge, what I’m about to describe is not taught in any police academy. That is the art of kicking doors. Admit it, you can’t watch a cop show without the star kicking open a door at least once. It amazes me how easy it looks, sometimes they just lean on the door with a shoulder. Please, all you’ll do is hurt your shoulder.

academy trainingWhen I went through the Los Angeles Police Academy, they taught me when to legally kick a door without violating some citizen’s civil rights, but not how! My initial experience was watching my partner kick in a door on my first day out of the academy. The door flew open and we raced in to save an attempted suicide victim.

I learned my first valuable lesson watching cartoons. That’s right. The Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed and blew down the house of straw and wood but couldn’t blow down the house of brick. I know what you’re thinking: Collier is getting fitted for one of those long sleeve shirts with the buckles on the cuffs. No, what I learned is what door you can kick in and what doors you’ll just hurt you.

I learned the hard way. Let’s start with the door itself. Is it a solid wood door or hollow core? Is the frame also wood and how many locks does it have? I know—who has the time to analyze the structural integrity of a door? Well, you had better or you’ll waste your time and energy.

Smart cops will never try to kick a metal door with a metal frame unless you have a big red “S” on your chest. You’ll just pull a hamstring and look foolish. I once had a welfare check on a family in an apartment building. The police had been out there twice but couldn’t get in. The manager didn’t have a key so we finally called the fire department. The fire department had to cut the metal door and frame open. It was a murder suicide including the three young children. I’ll never get over that one.

My partner Gary and I once had a welfare check call on an elderly woman high up in the Hollywood Hills. She hadn’t been seen in days. It was an older house built with solid oak wood doors and frames. We knocked on the doors and then began looking in all the windows. We found a window where we could see the woman lying on the floor. OK, we’ll kick the door and rescue the woman.

As I said the house was well-built and we kicked that door for fifteen minutes. First one kicked, then both of us at the same time. It almost got comical—this poor lady laying of the floor and Gary and I saying, “Ready 1, 2 ,3, kick, 1,2,3, kick.” We finally got in and discovered that her dog was protecting her. You’ll never see that on prime time TV. We finally rescued her and the dog.

Hollow core doors? They are usually interior doors, like bedroom or bathroom doors, but not always. This incident happened in the early 70’s. Hollywood cops got a “Rape in Progress” call. We all arrived and the person reporting (PR) said the girl next door is yelling for help. We knock and the woman screams, “Help Me”

My partner, Jim Moody says, “I’ll kick the door.” He steps back and plants a size 10, double E right in the middle of the door. It was a hollow core door so his foot gets stuck. Moody’s standing there on one leg, the other stuck in the middle of the door. We laughed as we rushed by and rescued the woman, leaving Moody outside.

That brings up where to kick a door. You kick next to the dead bolt lock. That’s where the door will burst open. Be careful not to hit the door knob. That is worth at least a sprained or worse, a broken ankle. Both will give you desk duty, a curse among patrol cops. A cop’s worst nightmare is a 2 inch deadbolt. It may take 3 or 4 kicks before the door frame gives way. If you’re securing your own house, use 2 inch deadbolts, even the cops have trouble getting in. Bad if you’re the one laying on the floor!!!
Another rookie mistake is not checking to see if the door is locked before you kick it open. Don’t laugh—it happens. I once watched an officer kick a door twice before someone realized it was unlocked.

Kicking doors takes practice and a strong leg, but it’s usually the smallest officer who pushes his way to the front and proclaims, “I’ll kick it.” I usually let them try, that’s how they learn. I once had a sergeant who insisted that the mule kick was the best. He would position himself on the floor with his back and butt toward the door. Then he would kick backwards like a mule. It worked for him but I didn’t like being on the floor with my back to the door.

Kicking a door doesn’t always turn out as planned. The department has a term, “Called the wrong Door.” That’s when cops kick the wrong door. I’m sure your wondering how could such highly trained cops make such a mistake? Easy—poor communication, egos, “me first,” and last, poor leadership. We once had an incident high up in the Hollywood Hills at a party where professional gambling was taking place. The sergeant led the charge and kicked the door across the street from the party. The residents were not impressed with their tax dollars at work. The sergeant was transferred to day watch where he could be better supervised. True story

Another time Mike and I were driving around when we see large billows of smoke coming from a four story apartment building. Oh crap, we have to save all those people. We run into the lobby and are met with smoke filled hallways. We start banging on doors and if no answer we kick in doors. After kicking two doors, we run to the fire escape window and suck in some fresh air. The smoke is burning our lungs and eyes. Residents are running into the streets as the fire department arrives. Hell, Mike and I will get a medal for saving all these people.

Guess what? No medal. The smoke was from a trash dumpster behind the apartment building. It was coming in through an open hallway window. I pulled a hamstring and had to get treated for smoke inhalation. Ever been treated for smoke inhalation? They stick a big needle in your wrist and draw blood from an artery not a vein. Arteries are down deep in your arm.
Every once in a while an opportunity comes along to practice kicking a door. I had one such opportunity as a sergeant. A four story apartment building on Argyle was being remodeled and all the tenants were evicted. The construction foreman told me there are squatters in some of the apartments, you can kick any door that’s locked. My eyes light up. I grabbed every rookie that was working that day and had them kick a few doors. I also kicked a half dozen doors myself, it was like a present from the police gods.

Like I said kicking doors is an art only learned after years of experience. There will also be a few wrong doors and failures that come with that experience. One last kick door story. I got a welfare check call for service on another elderly lady. Her porch light has been on day and night for days. Her mail and newspapers are piling up and the neighbors think there a strange smell coming from the house. These are all bad signs. I do my usual check of all doors and windows. Oh crap. I see flies on the windows—another bad sign. I won’t explain what the flies on the windows might indicate. My partner, a smaller officer, wants to kick the door. (See above!) I tell him we’ll call for an ambulance first. The fire department arrives and they said, “We’ll kick the door.” Now everybody loves the fire department and firemen!

The firemen kicks the door we all rush in and guess what? No one’s home. The smell and flies were from a plate of food left on the kitchen counter. A few days later I get a call from an angry elderly lady who wants to know why I kicked her door while she was visiting her sister in Florida. She wants me or the police department to pay to have her door repaired. I told her we didn’t kick the door the fire department did. Here’s the kicker, no pun intended. We kick the wrong door and the police department has to pay to fix the door. The fire department kicks the wrong door they don’t have to pay.
The firemen are still loved!

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Stake outs, part 3

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.
I was assigned to the Community Relations Office with the other Senior Lead Officers. Again, Hollywood was having a business burglary problem on the west end. It was all along Melrose Avenue and, of course, after midnight. We had just been pulled out of patrol and became a ready work force, or gophers, to our Captain. Anyway, I found myself on a roof top with Chuck. Dale and Jim were on a roof top about three blocks east of us.

A little history: this area of Melrose is a known area for gay men to meet and have a five minute exchange of passion. We’re not here to enforce lewd conduct violations so we concentrate our attention to business burglars. After a couple of hours we spot a man driving a black Jeep. He’s driving back and forth on Melrose; maybe he’s staking out a business. His next pass, I look through my binoculars. He’s not wearing a shirt. It’s November and Chuck and I are bundled up like the little brother on Christmas story. His next pass, I notice he’s not just shirtless, he’s naked. Right hand on the steering wheel, left hand on his shift handle. Chuck radios to Dale and Jim to be on the lookout for the black Jeep. A few minutes later they radio back that he’s ambidextrous, his right hand is now on his shift handle. That’s what you get for working Hollywood.

We hear a noise coming from the rear alley. I walk to the back and look down, a tagging crew has picked our building to spray paint graffiti. We call in the chase car and they are arrested. At least we didn’t strike out.

Ivar at Sunset 1960's
Ivar at Sunset 1960’s

One of my favorite stake out locations was on Ivar north of Sunset. The cheapskates would rather park on a dark side street that had free parking, than pay a few bucks to park in a well-lit parking lot. Ivar was adjacent to the Cinerama Dome, a strip club and a block from Hollywood Boulevard. I could sit on a second story parking lot of the Mercedes building and watch two parking lots and the surrounding streets.

My first night, I caught a car burglar within the first hour. The next time, it took two hours but we caught another. The third time was a chore. I spot this guy looking into parked cars. He tries the doors their all locked. He walks to the corner looks both ways and returns to a Jaguar. Then he walks away. What’s wrong with this guy? I’m ready, the chase car is ready–oh yea, I forgot patience.

guy stealing carHe returns then sits on a planter right underneath me. Where’s my chewing tobacco? Another car drives slowly northbound on Ivar. That car stops and backs up, two guys get out and look at a car with T-Tops. Ok, these guys are going to steal the T-Tops. My suspect steps out and warns them that he will call the police if they touch that car. I’m getting irritated at this guy, he won’t break into a car and now he’s stopping others from committing a crime.

All through this I’ve got my chase car two blocks away and ready to swoop in for the arrest. The chase car is beginning to think I’m seeing things and their losing interest. My suspect walks back to the Jaguar, he looks up and down the street. I’m mumbling, “Break into the car, you dumb ass.” I shouldn’t have had a Pink’s hot dog before getting up on this roof.

Ok, the first suspect breaks into the Jaguar, the chase car swoops in and arrests him and I just make it to the bathroom. Great night. You know, I always caught a car burglar at that spot.

My last stake out story shows how the best laid plans don’t always work out. At the time the big arcade games were in all the businesses, liquor stores, bowling alleys, even laundromats. They were quite expensive. Hollywood was experiencing a rash of burglaries. Suspects would smash out a window, grab an arcade machine, throw it into the back of a truck or van and drive away. Witnesses say they only took five minutes.

My partner Bob had a snitch who worked at an arcade store. He overheard that this group had stolen a van and was going to steal an arcade machine at one of two stores in Hollywood. We convinced our Watch Commander to let us stake out the two stores. Bob and I picked a laundromat on Vine Street. We hid our police car behind a car wash and waited.

arcade gamesThe stolen van drives by the laundromat. We radio for the other black and white (police car) that our location is the target. They set up three blocks north of us. I request a helicopter. They advise they have landed for the night and will only respond if it’s an officer emergency. We watch and wait. The van parks in the parking lot and four guys get out. They walk up and down the street looking for the police.

Bob and I are ready. The suspects smash the window and drag the arcade machine out through the window and into the back of the van. We move in followed by the other black and white. The van turns eastbound on a residential street. Were right behind them. Our plan worked out. The suspects drive right through a stop sign at El Centro. As we approach, a trash truck pulls into the intersection, blocking our path. Damn, we drive around the trash truck. The suspects’ van is 3/4 of a block ahead of us. They turn northbound on Gower then westbound in an alley. We’re about 100 feet behind them when they push the arcade machine out the back of the van. It blocks the alley. The suspects abandon the van and run southbound through the houses.

We set up a perimeter and our helicopter decided this was an officer safety issue and helped with the search. After hours, we catch all four bad guys. See? It worked out ok but on TV it would never happen like this.
–Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Stake outs, part 2

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

This post is the first half of Stake outs, part 2. The last post (part 3) will be posted Sunday  Feb. 8, 2015

My last story was about stake outs. Most of them were boring and did not result in any arrests. Police work is like that; sometimes you put your hand in the cookie jar and pull out a whole cookie and other times you get crumbs. I got a couple of responses from partners about stake outs that I didn’t mention. I told them that stake outs require patience and they should have some too.

A lot of preparation goes into a stake out. Location, probability of committing a crime where you’re watching and when you’re watching. You’re fighting off boredom and often the cold. You see a likely suspect enter the target area. Your senses become keen, the adrenaline starts flowing. Picture your dog sitting next to the dinner table as you eat. He watches every bite, waiting for you to drop something. Ok, you’re a cat person. Picture this: you’re a cat about to pounce on some imaginary foe, tail twitching, and muscles tense. My suspect keeps looking around, then he steps into a doorway that I’m waiting for him to break into. But he only urinates. What a letdown and only four more hours left on the stake out.

My story:

Cinerama Dome photo by discoverhollywood.com
Cinerama Dome
photo by discoverhollywood.com

I’m still working a hype car with Dave. We’re on the prowl for car burglars. Hypes will break into cars in parking lots where the owners will not return for a couple of hours. Tonight we’re on the roof top of the Wells Fargo Bank on Sunset next to the Cinerama Dome. We have a good view of two parking lots. The weather is mild and Terri refused to make coffee! We’re only two stories up and our anticipation is high. The movie “1941” with John Belushi is playing at the Cinerama Dome.

We’ve been on the roof for two hours when we spot two guys park in the lot. They exit their car and walk straight to the box office. They return a few minutes later with their tickets to the 10 P.M. show. It’s a little after nine. They go into the McDonald’s at the far end of the parking lot. I know what you’re thinking–why should you care that they went into McDonald’s? Remember patience is required in stake outs.

These two guys sit in their car eating McDonald’s and drinking beer. 10X50 power binoculars tell me it’s Budweiser in bottles. They begin throwing out their empty beer bottles onto the parking lot along with their hamburger wrappers. Dave and I are a little peeved that these two jerks are littering and breaking beer bottles in the parking lot. It’s almost 10 P.M. and they walk toward the box office, only to return a few

Okay, they didn't get into a fight, but arguing is not as photogenic.
Okay, the jerks didn’t get into a fight, but arguing is not as photogenic.

minutes later. They are cussing at each other because they can’t find their tickets. Dave and I watch in amusement as they search their car and the trash they threw out in the parking lot. The longer they look the more Dave and I enjoy it. They are now walking back and forth in the parking lot to see if they dropped the tickets between their car and the theater. The two jerks are blaming each other for losing the tickets.

Dave looks down and we’re standing on pea gravel. We both pick up a handful and hurl it at the closest jerk. He immediately blames his buddy. We giggle and watch as their friendship degenerates. We figure this stake out is over and climb down. The two jerks are about to leave and we approach and badge them. We tell them to clean up all their trash, including the broken bottles.

As we leave one of the jerks runs up to us and says, “Hey, I think someone was on that roof throwing rocks at us”.
Dave looks him straight in the eye and says, “We’ll look into it”.

I wonder how long it took them to put two and two together?

–Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Stake Outs, part 1

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

 

Stake Outs part 1

"Stakeout" from the 1987 movie with Emilio Estevez and Richard Dreyfuss
“Stakeout” from the 1987 movie with Emilio Estevez and Richard Dreyfuss

The story you are about to read is true. I’ll use the real first names of partners, unless I can’t remember them. This segment will deal with “Stake Outs.” Stake outs are depicted on TV and in the movies all the time. You see these two cops sitting in a warm car, drinking latte coffee and chatting about their latest conquests. I love TV cops–they never have to go to the bathroom and the perp (perpetrator) always shows up and an arrest is made, all within five minutes.

Fact: Most stake outs you sit on a roof top of some business in December for six hours and the only crime you see is a homeless man urinating on your police car. The Watch Commander says it’s a waste of manpower. That’s after you spent two weeks telling him that this stake out was a sure thing. Patrol cops as a rule don’t get to participate in many stake outs. There usually reserved for the elite SPU (Special Problems Units) which are comprised of young cops who still have a drawer full of their Academy T-shirts. I was never assigned to SPU, but I did get a couple of loans and I was also assigned to a hype car for six months.

Stake outs require a lot of preparation. You study crime reports, look for patterns, anything that will increase your chances of success. If you remember I spent nineteen years working Morning Watch, that’s 11 P.M. to 7 A.M. So you plan accordingly. What time of year–do you wear warm clothing? Do you bring binoculars, a thermos of coffee, sunflower seeds, chewing tobacco, a hand-held video game? Most important of all, who is your partner? I been on stake outs with some great partners and the time flew and I’ve been on six-hour stake outs with a partner similar to an in-law you can’t stand.

Once we had a rapist hitting residences in the southeast area of Hollywood. I was told to drive my personal truck and park on this side street for six hours and watch for a tall thin black man who can run faster than any cop. My partner that night was Ron, he was from New York and talked constantly. The constant talking wasn’t what was so annoying but his use of the term “Right, Buddy.” after every sentence. He once got out to pee and I thought of driving off and leaving him, yelling “Right, Buddy.”

Pantages Theater
Pantages Theater

I had a couple of memorable stake outs while working a hype car. My partner was Dave and we could sit through a hail storm and have a good time. The Pantages Theater parking lots were having a rash of car break-ins. We figured we would sit on the roof of the theater and watch the three surrounding parking lots. We arranged for the theater manager to allow us access to the roof. It was December and a little cool. No, it was damn cold with a twenty mph wind from the north. We wore dark, warm clothing and I brought along a pair of binoculars. We both drink coffee, so I had Terri, my wife, make us a thermos of coffee. Unfortunately, Terri doesn’t drink coffee and therefore the coffee poured out like the sludge from that leaking oil well in the Gulf. Sorry Terri, but you can’t change history.

Ok, were ready. We begin our trek up to the roof. The Pantages Theater is about twelve stories and we have to climb up a metal ladder for two stories. We have more equipment than Sir Edmund Hillary had on his climb up Mt. Everest. Of course Sir Edmund wasn’t going to spend six hours on top of Everest. We reach the top and scout the parking lots. We can see four parking lots. We begin our surveillance. The first hour and half flies by. The Capitol Records building to the north is having a Christmas party. What we see going on in the parking lot is not a crime unless you’re a divorce lawyer.

The cold wind makes us both have to pee. The air conditioner for the Pantages Theater is a water cooled-evaporator, with a large water trough on the roof. Well, you can figure out where we peed. Your tax dollars at work. We didn’t catch anything but a bad cold. By the way if you spit tobacco off a twelve story building, the spit turns into a parachute about 2 stories down. More spread, but not good for accuracy.

The next night we commandeered an office inside the Capitol Records building. The office belonged to some bigwig. One of us sat in his huge over-sized chair while the other looked out the window. We were warm and there was a radio which we changed to country music. An hour into our stake out I heard Dave on the telephone. Next thing I hear is the DJ dedicating a Johnny Cash song to Dave and Hal, on a stake out. True story.

I have a few more stake out stories, some of which actually result in the arrest of a bad guy.

Practical Joke

Vine Lodge Hotel
Vine Lodge Hotel

It was some time in the winter. Dave and I got a call to meet another car in the back parking lot of a known dirt bag hotel (Vine Lodge). We figured they needed our expertise. We pulled into the parking lot and the officers were standing at the back of their open car trunk. We got out and walked toward them. We were immediately pelted with snowballs. That’s right snowballs in Hollywood. Ok, picture this, four LAPD officers running around a parking lot in the middle of the night, having a snowball fight. The officers found the snow on a car in the Hollywood hills. They took some and set up an ambush for us. We all laughed and decided the lieutenant should not miss out in the fun. Dave and I went to the station and coaxed the lieutenant to come outside. As soon as he exited the back door he was pelted with snowballs. He thought this was great fun and didn’t want his Assistant Watch Commander (A W/C) to miss out.

The lieutenant walked into the Watch Commanders Office, past the A W/C and closed the door. The A W/C looked up then turned toward us as we walked through the other door. He was suspicious because we all had our hands behind our backs. He jumped up and tried to go through the door the lieutenant was holding closed from the other side. The A W/C was pelted with eight snowballs. We cleaned up the best we could but the custodian wanted to know how the carpet got so wet. Non-cop friends might think this is juvenile, but it relieves the stress and improved moral.
Besides, how many can say they had a snow ball fight in Los Angeles, let alone in the Hollywood Watch Commanders Office?

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Characters, part 6-Robert Pen Dragon Ball

Due to technical issues there are no illustrations with this post. Check back Wednesday for more stories behind the badge.

 

By Hal Collier
LAPD Retired
We are pleased to feature Hal’s reminiscences.

The following story is true. Some may find this short story a bit morbid, but you have to put yourself in the shoes of a street cop looking for a bad guy, keeping in mind officer safety issues. The character may be only known to a few officers as he flew under the radar. He wasn’t a crook, but a colorful drunk.

Robert Pen Dragon Ball.

First the story.
Officers often get alarms at closed businesses and find burglars have broken into the building. The first step is to request the additional cops to secure the perimeter and then they have to search the interior. Some buildings are multiple stories and some are small in area but have special concerns. This story is about a single story building but with many special concerns.

Guns and a Pencil

It’s the middle of the night and I get a burglary alarm on Santa Monica Boulevard. The business is a mortuary across the street from the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. We check the exterior and discover that entry has been made via one of the side doors. I’m not squeamish but I know there are people inside, only most are dead.

My mind is racing. If I was a burglar caught inside a mortuary with cops outside where would I hide? Inside a coffin in the viewing room? In the embalming area with my bare feet sticking out of a sheet and a toe tag attached? Inside a display casket in the sales room?

The first room we search is the embalming room. Oh crap, there’s six pairs of bare feet, all with toe tags. I know what’s under the sheets and I don’t want to look. I take out my #2 pencil and with gun in one hand I begin checking the bottom of their feet. I use the pencil to check for a reaction when I run the pencil across the bottom of every foot. Nothing, thank goodness. We move on to the viewing rooms. The caskets lids are open and a quick look is sufficient. If they look dead and there alive I don’t want to catch them.

The next room is filled with the caskets that are for sale. They are all closed and we’ll have to open each one. I’m beginning to wish I was an electrician like my dad. After fifteen tension-filled minutes we decide that there isn’t anyone inside. I step outside and throw away my pencil. Now do you think cops are paid too much? I’ll never forget guns and a pencil.

Hollywood Character: Robert Pen-Dragon Ball

With a name like that who needs a nick name? Robert lived somewhere north of Hollywood Boulevard. I don’t know if he was on a disability pension or living on a family trust, all I know is that he always had money for beer. Working graveyard, I seldom saw Robert sober. He was just like Otis of Mayberry on the Andy Griffith TV show. He was always friendly and I think he even liked cops.

I was working with Dave. One night, we saw Robert on roller skates, drunk on his ass. He was rolling downhill on Wilcox Avenue. He rolled from one parking meter to the next. It was amusing to watch. Picture a guy letting go of a parking meter, rolling downhill and only stopping when he straddled the next parking meter. Ouch. We stopped Robert two parking meters from Hollywood Boulevard. Dave suggested we take him back up the hill and watch him roll down again.

Another time we saw Robert walking along a side street with a large grocery bag under his arms. it was past midnight and of course, Robert was already drunk. I talked to Robert while Dave looked in the bag. Inside was an unopened six pack of beer. Dave popped open all six beer cans and handed them back to Robert, upside down. Robert staggered away with beer dripping down his pants. We probably saved his life. Last time I saw Robert he was standing outside the 7-11 waiting until 6 AM so he could buy his beer. Robert was just another Hollywood Character who made police work amusing.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Hollywood Characters, part 5, Old Bill

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

The following story is true, I was there. I’ll follow with a story about another Hollywood Character. I asked around for this character’s name or background. Everyone who worked Hollywood in the 70’s knew him but only two remembered his name and only Dale Hickerson remembered his background.

 

Ok, first the story. With today’s TV coverage of car pursuits and police tactics, everyone is an expert on how we stop felony suspects. The Helicopter reporters tell the viewers what the police should do next and they criticize the officer if it’s not according to their textbook. One of the problems is that different police departments have different tactics and policies.

 

Late one night a Hollywood police car spots a stolen car. The senior officer broadcasts that he is following a stolen car and requests a backup and a helicopter. The officer is southbound on Highland passing Sunset. I’m excited because I’m close and fall in behind the lead officer.

 

car stopIt must have been a slow night because two blocks later most of the cops in Hollywood division are behind us. The helicopter is overhead with its bright light shining down on the stolen vehicle. The lead officer turns on his red lights at Santa Monica and Highland. The suspect’s vehicle stops. I look behind me. We have about six police cars all with their red lights on and the entire street blocked. The helicopter is circling overhead.

 

The lead officer gets on the PA system in the police car and broadcasts to the suspect’s vehicle,  “This is the Los Angeles Police Department”  I hear a voice from an officer behind me,  “They know who we are.”

 

Picture this: fourteen officers crouched down behind their car doors, guns drawn, and adrenalin surging through their veins. Suddenly laughter breaks out. The lead officer is not going to let this stop him from conducting a tactically correct felony car stop. He orders the driver to throw the car keys out the driver’s window.

After a brief pause, the driver of the stolen car tosses a screwdriver out the window. More laughter from the officers.

The lead officer did everything by the book, but it was funny as hell.

 

Hollywood Character:  Baseball Pitcher—Old Bill

 

During the 70’s, there was a black man who would stand at the southwest corner of Santa Monica and Western. Other guys like me told his name was Bill. Just after first light Old Bill would be out on the corner with a baseball and a glove. I think he was in his 70’s or 80’s. Bill would bend at the waist and look in to get a sign from an imaginary catcher. He would wind up and throw an imaginary pitch. Sometimes he had runners on base and would throw an imaginary ball to first base.  I once looked at his baseball glove. It was similar to my dad’s glove that he used in high school in 1935, I know because I still have it.

 

Negro LeagueHollywood officers, including myself would stop and ask Old Bill, “What’s the score?” The Dodgers were always winning. The count on the batter varied but I don’t ever recall him giving up a home run. Another officer asked him once if any runner had ever stolen a base on him and Bill replied, “No I have a good catcher.” He was fun to talk to. I wish I had asked him more about his background. Dale Hickerson said he played some pro ball in the Negro leagues.

 

Last time I saw Old Bill was early one morning. I received a radio call of a man down at Santa Monica and Western. When I arrived, I was told that the man had been transported to Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital. I arrived at the hospital and Old Bill was lying on a gurney. A nurse was trying to pry Bill’s baseball and glove from his hand. Old Bill had a stroke and I never saw him again.

The Dodgers lost the best pitcher they never had and Hollywood lost a character.

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Hollywood Characters, part 3

 

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

 

Here we go again. Another short story, then a story about a Hollywood character. You might notice that I refer to these people as “characters” instead of “nuts”. That’s because I’m still politically correct on occasion. Hollywood was full of characters; some had crossed over the line and into the classification of long-sleeved jackets with straps and buckles on the cuffs. Some were on the border—only one missed dose of medication away from the aforementioned jacket.

 

Others just were amusing. Some were great training for your brand new probationer—you know the cop who still lives with his mother at home and believes that all people are good. If he gets the chance, he will change their lives around. Some cops mature at different times, and some never mature. Ladies, you’re welcome.

 

I used to think that the characters in Hollywood had a roll call just like the cops. They would meet at some unknown location and the head character (Watch Commander-like) would call roll. Then he would pass out assignments. The assignments might go something like this:

“Billy, you stand outside the Pantages Theater and when the show lets out, take off all your clothes, and kiss all the women with grey hair.”

Graumans theater“Joe you go to Grauman’s Chinese Theater and fill all the foot and hand prints with urine that Joe’s been saving for a week.”

They might even have an awards show at the end of the year, like the Academy Awards. Best Performance During a Police Tactical Alert, Longest Talk with a Negotiator, Most Cops with Ruined Uniforms During a Resisting Arrest Use of Force. How about having a cop give you a pat down search after you have urinated in your pants or defecating in the back seat of a police car? Those were always award winners.

Ok, you get the picture. Characters all come to Hollywood and wait until the cops are really busy then they go to work.

This first story is about a radio call that I handled that was pretty funny at the time. We got a call “Unknown Trouble” at an apartment building on Laurel Avenue. It’s about 3 AM and we knock on the door. This elderly lady opens the door and tells us to talk in a whisper.

“What’s the problem?” I whisper.

“The people who moved in upstairs are Russian spies and their listening to our conversation right now.”

I ask, “How do you know?”

old lady radioShe replies, “I can hear their listening device. It beeps.”

I wink at my partner and ask, “Why would the Russians be listening into your apartment.”

She says, “My deceased husband was in the army in Europe, during WW ll.”

We look around the apartment and I give her the usual cop out line, “OK, we’ll check it out.” We’re heading for the door when we hear the “Beep.”

Oh, shit what if she’s not nuts!

We look around the apartment again and then I hear the beep again. It’s her smoke alarm. I tell her she needs to replace the battery and her problem will be solved. As we leave, she wants to know if we’ll still check out the Russians. I tell her, “Yea, we’ll put a stakeout on them but you won’t be able to see them. Our stakeout teams are very good.”

She thanks us. Those damn Russians!

 

Hollywood Characters:  Jack Brooks  

 

Just about every cop who worked Hollywood knows Jack Brooks by one name or another. Jack was also known as Big Jack. He was about 6′ 8″ and wore a size 14 shoe. He was also known as the “Missing Link.”  Jack had a protruding forehead, which was prominent due to his large head, similar to a Neanderthal. Before you write a nasty note about my being insensitive, you should see Jack. Jack had three teeth, none of which touched each other.

 

If a training officer had a height deficient probationer, he would stop Jack and have the probationer conduct the search. The probationer would tell Jack to put his hands on his head to conduct a pat down search. At 6′ 8”, the probationer couldn’t reach Jack’s hands to conduct the search as taught in the police academy. Before you call the ACLU, Jack was in on the search and freely cooperated. The academy later changed search techniques for shorter officers.

 

Jack loved the cops and was rumored to have helped some cops in a fight. I knew of one cop who gave Jack money every so often. Jack was not a problem, except that he was a peeping tom. Jack would sleep in a park during the day and walk the streets at night. I was once working a stakeout for a complaint of a peeping tom. Jack was the suspect. I felt that I was well hidden until Jack came walking up behind us and asked, “What’s up officers?”

 

Crossroads of the worldI had a pretty good relationship with Jack until I caught him looking into an apartment bathroom window at night. I arrested Jack and he refused to speak to me for five years. Jack would talk to other officers but purposely ignore me. Later when I was a Senior Lead Officer, I was having a business burglary problem at the Crossroads of the World. One business owner asked me if I knew of a homeless man who might sleep on the property and watch the businesses and he would pay him. I thought of Big Jack. Hell, he used to sleep at the Catholic Church next door. I sent Jack over to talk to the owner. The owner gave Jack $20 up front. Jack never showed up. The next time I saw Jack I told him that was the last time I’ll help him.

 

Up until I retired, I would see Big Jack walking around Hollywood. He might still be out there. I’m sure other Hollywood officers have stories about Big Jack.

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

A Policeman’s Christmas

Read to the bottom for a Christmas story from Hal Collier. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Kwanzaa or what ever way you celebrate the season-have a happy one!

–Thonie 

A POLICEMAN’S STORY…
Author unknown
In 1974 when I first joined the police department, I knew there would be
special occasions my family would spend without me. Knowing that fact
didn’t make the task any easier. The celebrations I missed those first years
depressed me and sometimes made me feel bitter. Working on Christmas Eve
was always the worst.

On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that a blessing can come disguised as
misfortune, and honor is more than just a word. I was riding a one man
patrol unit on the 4×10 shift. The night was cold. Everywhere I looked I
saw reminders of the holiday: families packing their cars with
presents, beautifully decorated trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny
sleighs. It all added to my holiday depression mood. The evening had been
relatively quiet; there were calls for barking dogs and a residential false
burglar alarm. There was nothing to make the night pass any quicker. I
thought of my own family without me there with them and I sunk further into
depression.

Shortly after 2200 hours I got a radio call to the home of an elderly,
terminally ill man. I parked my patrol car in front of a simple Cape Cod
style home. First aid kit in hand, I walked up the short path to the front
door. As I approached, a woman who seemed to be about 80 years old opened the
door. He’s in here she said, leading me to a back bedroom. We passed
through a living room that was furnished in a style I had come to associate with
older people. The sofa has an afghan blanket draped over its back and a
dark, solid Queen Anne chair positioned next to an unused fireplace. The
mantle was cluttered with an eccentric mix of several photos, some ceramic
figurines and an antique clock. A floor lamp provided soft lighting. We
entered a small bedroom where I saw a frail looking man lay in bed with a
blanket pulled under his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal
face. His breathing was shallow and labored. He was barely alive.

The trappings of illness all around his bed. The nightstand was littered
with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle stood nearby. Its
plastic hose, with face mask attached rested on the blanket. I asked the old
woman why she called the police. She simply shrugged and nodded sadly
toward her husband, indicating it was his request. I looked at him and he
stared intently into my eyes. He seemed relaxed now. I didn’t understand the
suddenly calm expression on his face. I looked around the room again. A
dresser stood along the wall to the left of the bed. On it was the usual
memorabilia: ornate perfume bottles, a white porcelain pin case, and a wooden
jewelry case. There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my
eye and I walked closer to the dresser for a closer look. The picture
showed a young man dressed in a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of
the man in bed. I knew then why I was there. I looked at the old man and
he motioned with his hand toward the side of the bed. I walked over and
stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand.
Soon, I felt his hand go limp, I looked at his face. There was no fear there.
I saw only peace. He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very
near. I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted
the protection of a fellow cop on his journey. A caring God had seen to
it that his child would be delivered safely to him.

The honor of being his escort fell to me. When I left at the end of my
tour that night, the temperature had seemed to have risen considerably, and
all the holiday displays I saw on the way home made me smile. I no longer
feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve. I have chosen an
honorable profession. I pray that when it’s my turn to leave this world
there will be a cop there to hold my hand and remind me that I have nothing to
fear. I wish all my brothers and sisters who have to work this
Christmas Eve all the Joy and warmth of the Season.

Author is unknown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ramblings-Christmas story

By Hal Collier

LAPD B-wagon parked next to a retired Reid and Malloy patrol unit photo by Adam12code3.com
LAPD B-wagon parked next to a retired Reid and Malloy patrol unit photo by Adam12code3.com

This is a short Christmas story.  I was assigned to Community Relations and every Christmas we would hand out food baskets to the less fortunate.  We were given a list of families who requested the food.  Dale and I were driving the old B- Wagon.  We had the back filled up with large boxes containing a frozen turkey and canned goods .  Dale and I made a few deliveries.  A few houses on our list had a new car in the driveway, nice furniture, a bigger TV than we had, and they definitely didn’t deserve a food box.

We decided to throw away the list and hunt down our own needy families.  We were driving southbound on Wilcox when we observed a small boy playing outside a rundown duplex.  Dale called the boy over and the boy yelled,  “I didn’t do anything.”  We assured him that he wasn’t in any trouble and asked where his mother was.
We went into his house and sure enough they had nothing.  We ran back out to the B-wagon and brought back the box of food.  The mother kept thanking us and she began to cry.  Dale and I could feel a lump swelling up in our throats.  Our eyes began to water and we told the mother we had to leave.  She gave us a hug.  I still get misty eyed when I recall that story.  We found other deserving families but this one I recall every Christmas.

Merry Christmas to everyone.

Hal’s next Ramblings post will be on December 26th. We’re taking Christmas Day off to enjoy family and friends. I hope you are, too!

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Retired Cops

 

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

I’ve been retired for almost nine years now and I’ve learned a few things, That surprises you, huh? Some I’ll describe in one sentence, others will require a few more.  These are things that retirement has taught me.

 

Hawaii 50 oldI don’t watch cop shows or the news with my wife or non-cop friends. I once watched an episode of Hawaii 50. A guy was shot by a sniper on the beach. McGarrett stuck a pencil in the palm tree where a bullet had missed. He figured out which room from a thirty-story hotel the shot came from. I almost puked. Who writes this crap?

 

I pick apart the tactics, how they collect evidence and don’t even get me started on courtroom testimony. I laugh whenever a defense attorney serves a notice to dismiss and the prosecuting attorney says, “Well there goes our case.” I don’t think I ever had a case go to trial where the defense attorney didn’t file some kind of a motion to dismiss or suppress evidence. Almost all were denied.

 

How come TV lawyers are allowed to ramble on without actually asking the witness a question. I’m not a lawyer but I know enough law to ask who was the technical adviser for that show?

 

Retired cops don’t have to be politically correct anymore and if someone asks your honest opinion, you give it. They might not like your opinion but they asked for it.

 

If the news calls him a person of interest, hello: “He’s a damn suspect!!!”

 

breaking newsWhile watching breaking news, retired cops will have figured out who the suspect is and the motive. That’s two days before an arrest confirms your suspicions. It’s usually the husband or wife.

 

Retired cops can’t let go of their department or its politics. Watch a retired cop get upset when he sees a new police department policy. His blood pressure medicine will work overtime while he shouts, “That’s not the way we use to do it.”

 

You get sick to your stomach when you see who the department has promoted. You can tell no less than six screw up incidents they have starred in and now you’re not afraid to tell those stories. The funny thing is they tried to stay out of patrol to avoid a screw up and they even failed at that.

 

Sleeping in? Who are you kidding? At your age, you’re just glad to wake up! You sleep in and wake up with your wife holding a mirror under your nose to see if you’re still breathing.

 

Of course the dog is glad to see you get up. You’re the only one who feeds or plays with her and we know that special scratch spot on the dog.  We never could find that spot on our spouse.

 

Retired cops remember that they forgot to teach their wife how to change the paper towel holder.

 

You go out to eat dinner shortly after they are clearing the lunch dishes at the restaurant. You haven’t watched the Tonight Show live in years.

 

pic of jurorsRetired cops are now subject to Jury Duty. I spent half my career cursing at juries who let my arrestee go free. After jury duty a few times, I discovered I was right, most jurors shouldn’t be driving, voting or reproducing!

 

You’ve been retired for years and suddenly some dirt bag you arrested and sent to prison wins an appeal and gets a new trial. You get a subpoena and have to testify again but this time you don’t get paid or get free parking. By the way carrying a gun into the courthouse is a whole new experience.

 

Retired cops attend more retirement parties and everyone seems to have aged but you. Some still have hair but lost their wits and vice versa and where the hell did their waist go?  By the way, that’s not the wife you had when we worked together!

 

Retired cops still dream police dreams, you know the ones where you can’t run, or your gun won’t fire. I’m not naked as much as I was in kindergarten but I still wake up sweating. My wife thinks I should put in for overtime for all the police work I do in my sleep!

 

Retired cops see more partners and classmates in the death and funeral section of the police newsletter.

 

Retired cops get to see their grandkids a lot more and actually enjoy their company and are sad when they leave. They will listen to your stories over and over again and pretend it’s the first time they heard them. After playing with them on the floor, it’s harder to get up. You can’t wear out the dog or the grandkids anymore!

 

I’ve done more household chores, cooking, laundry, vacuuming, and driving my wife around without complaint.

 

Retired cops, if you’re bored or you have ten minutes before the game starts, you actually listen to the telemarketer’s spiel before telling him/her to go to hell. However, you don’t have time for door-to-door salesmen; you can’t just hang up on them.

 

The LA Times still pisses you off. You read the editorial section just so you can see if your blood pressure medication is working. Bill O’Reilly and Fox News is your new hero!

 

There’s still nothing on TV during the day unless it’s Sat/Sun. Even soccer in Spanish beats Jerry Springer. Where are my John Wayne videos?

 

You actually want to know how your spouse’s day was, because you didn’t speak to an adult for hours. Talking to an old dog doesn’t count!

 

walmartShopping at Wal-Mart some weeks is your high point. Did you notice the price of a canned corn? Can you believe you shaved to go shopping here!

 

Naps are not a waste of time anymore. Why did I fight my mother about naps when I was four?

 

You open old partners’ e-mails first, save them and reread them a week later.

 

You had to shave and trim your hair for thirty-five years. Now we want to grow beards, outrageous mustaches, or long hair. Why? Because we can (and we discover that our wives don’t ask us to go out as much). By the way, why does my wife want to throw out my old clothes just because I haven’t worn them since Regan was president?

 

Oh yea you don’t shave everyday unless you want sex or you have an appointment for long-term health care insurance.

 

Speaking of sex, you spend more time talking about it than actually doing it. Sometimes it’s over before the commercial is.

 

Get a group of cops together and they can exchange stories for hours, most subject to memory. Cops bond for life.

 

Retirement has also taught me to enjoy the past but live in the present. Regardless of your time on the job, you made a difference and someone appreciates the sacrifices you made.

 

If you have something retirement has taught you, send them to me and I’ll add them to the list. This is my list. I’d love to hear from the females on their retirement.

 

YOU WRITE E-MAILS AND WONDER WHY NO ONE RETURNS COMMENTS! THEN YOU REALIZE YOU HIT DELETE INSTEAD OF SEND.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Too Close to Home

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us. 

Police officers deal with crime on a daily basis and far too often, that crime is violent. Cops see death regularly and they have to deal with it. We often suppress our emotions and treat the violence as a simple part of the job. It’s how we keep our sanity, or at least that’s what we think. Every so often, a crime hits close to home, a friend, a partner, or your family. Then it becomes personal. It also helps you understand how your everyday victims feel.

 

ruger-sr22-pistol-sideMy first “family” incident occurred when I was on probation. I came home after a long night working the grave yard shift and see my Ruger 22 caliber pistol on the dining room table. It’s cocked! I keep it in the bedroom and not cocked. I have taught my wife, Terri, how to use it and I’ve even taken her shooting. Terri is a crack shot, I’ll remember that.

 

 I asked Terri what happened. She said that Boone, our dog, was barking at the back door about midnight. She got up and walked into the kitchen. A man was standing at the back door. Our back door is in a fenced yard. Terri goes back into the bedroom and retrieves my Ruger. She walks back into the kitchen and the man is still there. Terri points the gun at the man and cocks the pistol. The man flees. Don’t mess with Terri! I ask Terri, “What did the police say?” She replies, “I didn’t call them!” I give her a very short lecture; after all, she’s armed. “Next time call the police!”

 

opposumAbout a week later, I’m at work in the middle of the night. I hear a “code 4” come out at my house address. “Code 4” means no further assistance needed. I panic, that’s my house and my wife. It seems Boone started barking and Terri heard the crackling of leaves on the side of the house. Terri called the police and got her gun! I made sure it was accessible. The cops showed up and politely asked Terri to put her gun down. The noise was an opossum walking in the side yard. Better safe than sorry.

 

Everyone in law enforcement has that fear when they hear that a policeman has been hurt or killed. We pray that we’ll never hear that knock at the door in the middle of the night. We still go through that because our son is a cop and we still have friends in law enforcement.

 

I’ve been retired for over nine years now and am pretty safe in my own home. Terri still can handle a loaded handgun.

 

Police searched Alessandro Elementary School in Silver Lake Sept. 9, 2014 after the second threat of a gunman on campus in a month.
Police searched Alessandro Elementary School in Silver Lake Sept. 9, 2014 after the second threat of a gunman on campus in a month.

Flash forward to August 13, 2014. A little background, my daughter is a first grade teacher at Allesandro Elementary School [for the news story, click here]. Allesandro is just down the hill from Dodger Stadium. Public school in the LA area started on August 12th. A day after school started I was sitting at home and watching the news. “Breaking News” Allesandro Elementary School is on lock down. Someone reported 2 men with guns had entered the campus. I texted my daughter. She hadn’t been notified. Her class is in a bungalow and the word hadn’t reached her yet. She will bring that up at the next faculty meeting!

 

Back to Allesandro: Lock down, means all classroom doors are locked, no one enters and no one leaves, including students who have to use the bathroom. During lock down the bathroom is a bucket in the closet. That’s also for the teacher. The teachers continue to teach class but the kids are upset because they’ll miss recess. Imagine trying to calm down thirty first graders after a police officer comes into class with a drawn gun.

 

I’m sitting at home and watching the news helicopter showing officers with guns drawn and going classroom to classroom. I’m not worried, like hell. Not only is my daughter in one of those classrooms, two of my grandsons also attend that school.

 

I’ve read about Columbine and Sandy Hook and I was even a Hollywood Division instructor for a rapid response team in active shooter scenarios. It sends chills down your spine and I will never understand how anyone could shoot children or teachers?

 

After about an hour, the crisis is over. Another false call. Later my daughter tells me the same individual has phoned in four bomb threat calls to her school. Some nut with a grudge. Why, did a 1st grader ride his bike across your lawn?

 

Sept. 9, 2014, another call of a man with a gun threat is phoned in at Allesandro. The caller is using one of those prepaid disposable phones and he calls into the 911 emergency number. The school goes on lockdown and the teachers put the bucket in the closet. Again I’m watching armed police walking through my daughter’s school. I should have given a gun to my daughter. After another search, the police leave. They have received over 200 false calls from the same cell phone at different locations. So it’s not just my daughter’s school.

 

That afternoon we picked up our grandsons from school. They’ve become nonchalant about the lock downs. That’s the part that scares me. Will the police and school faculty become complacent also? Have all these false calls been a test run for the real thing? Is this some nut or a domestic terrorist or a terrorist from the Middle East.

 

I don’t know what the answer is but it’s “Too Close to Home!”