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: 1984 Olympics, part 1

 

By Hal Collier

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”  My past Ramblings have dealt with the L.A. Riots, probably the worst of times.  They were fun, but the LAPD took a beating that they still haven’t recovered from.  We were blamed for the brutality that caused the riots and blamed for not using enough force to stop the riots.  This story will deal with the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles–it was the best of times.

 

I’m a bit of a sports nut.  I played football, baseball, basketball, dodge ball, four square, well, you get the picture. I wasn’t a Rhodes Scholar candidate.  I have watched the Olympics since I was a kid.  I watch sports I’ve never played.  I have watched curling for hours. Go ahead Google curling.  My family still talks about the time I was watching the 1980 Mens Hockey game, remember “Miracle on Ice.”  The Americans scored a goal, I threw up my arms and fell over backwards in a rocking chair.  Even my dog knows not to lay too close to me when I’m watching sports.

 

LA Olympic Stadium
LA Olympic Stadium

The planning for the L.A. Olympics probably took almost a decade: the sport venues, Olympic villages, security, traffic jams, and will L.A. have smog alerts.  Thank goodness I’m only a street cop and can just wait and go where I’m told.  To most citizens the Olympics last two weeks; that’s just when the competition is going on.  The athletes arrive about two weeks before the competition.  They need to get acclimated to L.A.’s altitude, smog, do some serious shopping and night clubbing.  Tourist flocked to L.A. and especially Hollywood.  People from all over the world wanted to see Hollywood, put their feet in the stars footprints at Grauman’s Chinese Theater, see a movie star walking down Hollywood Boulevard. I felt sorry for a lot of them, instead of a glimpse of glamour they found stores packed with t-shirts 3 for $10 and an ash tray with the Hollywood sign on the bottom.

 

During the eighties, the city was broke as usual and there wasn’t any cash for the overtime you worked.  Officers were compensated with time off.  Big whoopee—a day off but if you didn’t have any money you got a chore from the wife’s honey do list.

 

But, the Olympics offered officers an opportunity to make some extra cash.  If you had a scheduled vacation you could work your whole vacation and make a bundle, subject to Uncle Sam’s taxes.  If you were just a little greedy, you could work on your days off for cash.  The down side was that the Department was going to mobilize, which means 12 hour shifts and not many days off.  A typical 12 hour shift runs about 15 hours with travel time and dressing and undressing.  I chose to work 3 days off during the Olympics.

 

The rest of the time I worked Hollywood patrol, 6 P.M. to 6 A.M.  I expected lots of radio calls, traffic jams, and irritated citizens who don’t care about the Olympics.  The opposite couldn’t have been truer.  Traffic was light—maybe everyone decided to stay home.  People didn’t call the police for the usual petty complaints, like my neighbors leaves are blowing into my driveway.  We didn’t have smog and crime was down.  I remember one night I was stopped at a traffic light and this lady next to us honks her horn.  She said, “You guys are doing a fantastic job, you all look so professional, I’m proud of you.”  I pumped out my chest and thanked her, then she said, “but your police car looks like crap.”  City budget shortfalls caused us to drive four year old cars with over 100,000 miles.

 

LA Athletes Olympic Village
LA Athletes Olympic Village

I worked three days at the Athletes Village at UCLA, a residence for Olympic athletes.  The 6 PM to 6 AM shift was not the best time to interact with the athletes but I had a few encounters.  My first night, I was assigned perimeter control.  I was given a brand new black and white police car, unlike the clunkers patrol was driving.  The Village was surrounded by a chain link fence which was wired.  If someone touched the fence an alarm was activated and we responded to see if terrorists were attempting to enter the village.

 

Of course if some idiot touched the fence as he walked on Sunset Boulevard, we responded.  We spent the whole night chasing idiots, raccoons and birds.  At least I was warm and had someone to talk with.  I was also sitting down, which will come up in my next Ramblings.  I survived my first night and got a commendation on my appearance.  Some officers were sent home without pay if they needed a haircut or had a uniform which didn’t meet the highest standards of the Los Angeles Police Department.

 

Next Ramblings: things you didn’t read about in the papers.

 

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: LA Riots, part 3

 By Hal Collier

The following story is true.  The riots are winding down.  Some calm has returned to Los Angeles and the politicians are coming out from under their expensive tax-paid desks.  The Mayor has a bandage on his index finger from pointing the blame at everyone but himself.  The media is blasting the L.A.P.D. and the jury from Simi Valley.   I’ll learn that this will be just the tip of the iceberg.  Politicians have appointed investigative commissions and the L.A.P.D., once considered the finest police department in the world, is about to be destroyed.  We are still recovering from the aftermath.  Think how politicians handle everything.  Appoint a group of liberal politicians who know nothing about what their investigating and come up with resolutions that only please the politicians and the ACLU.

Looters at a shoe store
Looters at a shoe store

Blocks of business were burned and it was a common sight to see armed businessmen standing on their rooftops protecting what wasn’t burned.  I can rationalize people taking goods they couldn’t afford, but why burn down the buildings where they work and shop.

During the first days, most businesses were closed, including restaurants. Even cops need to eat.  The Department began delivering box lunches.  They contained a cheese sandwich, an apple, and a cookie.  I’m guessing they were left over from the last riot in 1965. The local businessmen who were still open began delivering food to the station. We had stacks of bread, fruit, sandwich meat, and condiments.  We even had trays of cooked meat. The Spaghetti Factory was closed but opened to feed all National Guard soldiers and police officers one day.  The box lunches were given to the Salvation Army to feed the homeless.  No one went hungry.

A lot of officers were on fixed posts throughout the division.  I know that the Sears had a group of 8 to 10 officers. They were protecting what was left of the building and any inventory not taken by looters.  I remember one young officer had 200 rounds of ammunition stuffed in his pockets.  Custer’s men didn’t have that much ammo.  I prayed the officer didn’t fall into deep water.

Hollywood Division had its own small command post, to monitor incidents occurring in the division.  The command post was staffed with young officers and a senior Sergeant.  They remained in the station and never got their fingernails dirty.  One day, long after the dust had settled, they all went out in riot gear and had their pictures taken in front of burned out buildings.  I can imagine the stories they tell their kids. “What did you do in the riots?”

Hollywood Division was the only division that I know of that actively recovered looted property.  Officers drove U-Haul trucks around neighborhoods, when they spotted old couches and chairs sitting on the curb they would go into the apartment building and knock on doors.  Guess what, a brand new couch and table inside.  The new owners of this windfall gladly gave up the loot to avoid arrest.  The officers would take a couch downstairs load it into the truck, re-enter the apartment building and find 4 couches in the hallway.  It went on this way for days.  I heard of one incident where the officers took some property down in an elevator, loaded it onto the U-Haul truck.  They returned and punched the button for the elevator, it was already full of stolen property.  I just hope the citizens got their own furniture back.  Hollywood Division recovered more stolen property than any other division in the city.

National Guard in South Central LA WorldofStockphotography
National Guard in South Central LA
WorldofStockphotography

Early one morning I was southbound on the Hollywood freeway.  The sun was just rising. I saw a line of National Guard soldiers walking on the Western Avenue bridge above the freeway.

They were silhouetted against the sky, their rifles gleaming in the sunlight.  If I had a camera, I would have made a fortune selling that picture.  I made 4 hours of overtime a day for weeks, unfortunately it took the city 8 months to pay us our money.  Even the cops got looted, no interest.

I’m sure I’ll hear stories from other cops, with their experiences, and some contradictions.  This is how I remember the Second Annual Los Angeles Riots.  16 years later I was the Watch Commander in roll call, and telling stories of the riots. One of the senior officers sitting in the back row, asked, “Was that the ‘65 Riots, Sarge?  I was 16 years old during the ‘65 riots.”

I can’t get any respect. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.

It was also a lot of fun.

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: LA Riots, part 2

By Hal Collier

 

The following stories are true and can be verified by more than a dozen people who have no ambitions to run for political office.  You know, politicians can’t be trusted to tell the truth.  As usual, I’ll only use first names and all incidents are true to the best of my fading memory.

 

My last Ramblings dealt with the first day of the L.A. Riots.  The L.A.P.D. was mobilized, which means all days off are cancelled and everyone works 12 hour shifts.  That’s 12 hours on the clock, it doesn’t count travel time to and from work, putting on your uniform.  I worked 13 straight 12 hour days.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I had a wife who cooked, did the shopping, banking, took my uniforms to the cleaners and acted as an alarm clock when I wanted to hit the snooze button.  After about the fifth day your body gets into a rhythm.  After the 13th day they gave me one day off.  It screwed up my rhythm and I couldn’t do anything but sleep.

 

Ok, back to the riots.  The first day, I was relieved at 7 P.M. and told to go home.  I had to be back at 6 A.M.  I wasn’t working at night but the following was told to me by officers who worked nights.  The Department set up a huge command post in south central L.A.  52nd and Arlington, if memory serves me correctly.  They sent a large number of officers from the night shift of each patrol division to report to the command post.  RTD (Rapid Transit District) bussed them to the command post.  Hollywood officers then spent the whole night sitting at the command post.   Nothing irritates a cop more than sitting, when there’s crime happening.

 

They were being held in reserve, for what, only the department command staff knew.  At the end of their shift they were bussed back to Hollywood.  These cops were angry, they weren’t hired to sit while the city burned.  The RTD bus was N/B on Vine Street at Lexington.  Amatron, a large electronics store was being looted.  A supervisor halted the bus and said, “Let’s go.”  Can you imagine the surprise of the looters, when 60 cops get off a RTD bus and with blood in their eyes and charged into them?

The next night as the bus was being loaded, our Captain, an old timer, saw the flames of burning buildings on Hollywood Boulevard, ordered the officers off the bus and told the officers, “Well, save Hollywood first.” That’s leadership.

 

After a few days, the National Guard was called in and some order was restored.  One citizen tried to run a National Guard roadblock, he was shot in the ass.  I guess the National Guard doesn’t care about the L.A. Times opinion.

 

Cops and Firefighters
Cops and Firefighters

The Calif. Highway Patrol (CHP) had been doing escort duty for the fire department. Yea, even the firemen, the good guys, were targets.  After the third day, the CHP left and I was assigned to escort the fire department.  Two police cars were assigned to a fire station for the whole shift.  Whenever the paramedics left the station, one of the police cars went with them, even if it was for lunch.  I followed a paramedic truck to Pink’s for lunch, then spent an hour as they cruised Melrose looking at girls.  It beat being shoed.  The other police car went with the engine truck.  I discovered that when following a fire truck code 3, lights and siren, the cars that do pull over, pull right back out when the truck passes.  I almost got hit four times in three days.

 

LAFD Truck 27
LAFD Truck 27

Most cops know that the firemen have nice break rooms with aircraft seats, not the small ones found in coach, but the big oversized recliners.  They have a large screen TV with surround sound.  They also have a fully equipped workout room.  These are all paid for by the firemen through their own station fund.  Although this was easy duty, it was boring as hell.  I took a book the second day.  I was assigned to fire station #27.  It was an old building, built in the 20’s.  It had fire poles where you could go from the second floor to the first in seconds.  Yea, I tried it once.  If you land too hard you get your knees shoved up into your neck.  Fire Station #27 is a Battalion Station.  A battalion is 2 Engine trucks, a Hook and Ladder, 2 Paramedic trucks, a Hazmat truck and a Battalion Chief.  That’s as big as it gets.

 

If you know firemen, you knoq they don’t just sit around waiting for a fire or medical emergency.  They take a perfectly good wood ladder, strip it down, sand it, then re-varnish it.  They wash the underside of their fire trucks and wax everything that doesn’t move. Ok, I’m sitting around the break room, killing time.  The firemen are always pulling the trucks in and out the doors for washing.  About mid-day Keith, calls out to me on the radio.

“Hey Hal, they’re all gone”.

I ask, “Who?”

Keith says, “The whole battalion, they’re gone.”

 

I ran downstairs and sure enough, we’ve lost a whole fire battalion.  How am I going to explain losing seven fire trucks including a hook and ladder truck?  This won’t go well when I take a promotional oral.  I know they didn’t get called out, because I’ve learned the bell and buzz sounds signaling a call for Station #27.  Remember the TV show Emergency?  After a few frantic moments, I found out they went to another fire station for lunch.

That was the end of my fire escort duty.

 

Hal

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Ramblings: Trick or Treat? It’s Hal’s Halloween

By Hal Collier

Why do we decorate for Halloween?

I want candy
I want candy

 

Americans spend millions of dollars celebrating a holiday that has ghosts, goblins and the giving of high sugar content candy to kids.  Why?  Why do we celebrate a holiday that scares the crap out of small children?  It’s because it prepares them for the real world, where the daily news, our politicians and reports of crime scare everyone.  It’s also a big money maker for retail stores and drains my pension check.  My wife’s contribution alone should have kept the Hershey’s company in the United States.

 

When I was a street cop, I hated Halloween.  In Hollywood, it meant maximum deployment, long nights, and occasionally a riot.  I just never got into the spirit and I had to wear the same costume every year.  Some years, I think my costume had a target on it.  I don’t think I took my own kids out to trick or treat until they were in their 30’s.

 

Weeks before Halloween, I would come home and hear my wife and kids asking, “Dad, when are you going to put up the Halloween decorations?”  In the early days, decorations consisted of a carved pumpkin and a cardboard cutout of a flying witch scotch-taped to the front window.  If you remember, I made an ash tray in every shop class I took in school.  One year’ I bought a pumpkin carving kit with video. My pumpkin looked like an orange ash tray.  It was easy and I didn’t know how lucky I was.

 

Terri's creations
Terri’s creations

Let me introduce you to my wife, Terri.  To say that Terri loves kids is an understatement.  She has worked at the local elementary school for close to 40 years, the last two years for free.  She just loves kids.  Terri has always decorated for every holiday.  On Halloween night, she personally hands out over 100 candy bars. The outdoor decorations are my job.  I use to hate the approach of the BIG holidays like Halloween and Christmas.  Those are the yard decorations that require my expertise.  OK, some assembly required and the use of electricity, none of my strong suits.

 

Hal's Halloween Pirate
Hal’s Halloween Pirate

Terri make crafts for all the holidays.  She makes them for our children, our children’s children and anyone who is a friend, classmate or team player of our grandchildren.  An example, Terri made 150 small plastic pumpkins, filled with chocolate for the grandchildren’s class.  She made bigger treats for the kids’ teachers and even bigger treats for sisters, brothers, in-laws and yes, even Alex, our UPS delivery man.

 

Ok, so you now get it–holidays are a big thing in our house!

Now, we’re rookies compared to some our neighbors, they draw crowds from all over the Northeast area.  We started out small with a few outdoor decorations bought at “Big Lots.”  Well, we’re way past that now thanks to the wonders of the internet and delivered catalogs.  We now have a 20 foot blow-up pirate ship, a life-size skeleton with hat and sword, a half-buried skeleton and other lighted decorations.  See attached pictures.

 

“Halloween: why do we decorate?”  As a street hardened cop, I didn’t have a lot of love for Halloween but now that I’m retired I’ve become a soft-hearted old man.

 

Hal's pirate ship
Hal’s pirate ship

I was putting the pirate ship up the other day and a young father and his daughter walked by and I heard the little girl say, “Look daddy, a pirate ship.”  I suddenly realized what my wife had known for decades.  It’s for the little kids and big kids as well.  Later, I heard 2 men in their 30’s walk by and say “Look, what cool decorations.”

 

That’s why I decorate–for the kids the neighbors and my wife.

 

It’s only 54 days until Christmas.

 

Hal

 

 

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Ramblings: LA Riots, part 1

By Hal Collier

The following story is true.  I’ll use first names unless there is a civil rights issue.  This story will deal with my experiences during the L.A. Riots.  I don’t usually put politics in my stories, but after 35 years of being politically correct in the L.A.P.D. I can’t be quiet anymore.  These opinions are mine alone and are in direct contrast to the opinions of the L.A. Times, but I don’t care!  We were told to refer to the riots as civil unrest. BS, there was nothing civil about what happened.

Rodney King video ignited LA riots photo courtesy photoblog600
Rodney King video ignited LA riots
photo courtesy photoblog600

In March of 1991, the CHP pursued a speeding car into the San Fernando Valley.  The car stopped and the passengers were arrested without incident.  The driver, Rodney King, resisted arrest and even charged the officers.  L.A.P.D. officers took over the incident because the CHP Officers were placing themselves in danger.  The arrest was videotaped and broadcast on all TV the stations for months.  The media conveniently omitted the first few seconds which show King resisting arrest.  King was described as a black motorist by the media when in fact he was a paroled convict and under the influence.  A trial was held in Simi Valley and the officers were acquitted.  On the evening of April 29, 1992 the city broke out in riots.

There were two riots that broke out in LA that day.  The riots that the media reported and the riots LA cops experienced. One based on a racial issues the other based on multi-racial people who saw an opportunity to get free stuff.  Again my opinion.

I was a Senior Lead Officer in Hollywood Division.  The Police Department mobilized, which means everyone works 12 hours shifts. I was assigned to A watch 6 A.M. to 6 P.M.

The watch started out slow, a few reports of looting in South Central L.A.  As we checked all the Hollywood business districts, we could hear that the looting was spreading north.  By noon the looting was sporadic in Hollywood.  As officers caught looters and took them to the police station, we had fewer resources to deal with newer looters on the street.

My partner and I caught two white guys throwing rocks at a business window.  So much for the race issue, they just wanted free stuff.  They ran but we caught them a few blocks away.  I was enroute to the station when I heard officers requesting help for widespread looting.  I figured these two guys would be plead out to misdemeanor attempt vandalism.  I released them and responded to the “help calls”.

(Published in special section May 12,1992) -- April 30, 1992-- The second day of the Riots on 3rd street I photographed this guy running past a burning Jon's market with a shopping cart full of diapers. I affectionately call this image "A Huggies Run".
(Published in special section May 12,1992) — April 30, 1992– The second day of the Riots on 3rd street I photographed this guy running past a burning Jon’s market with a shopping cart full of diapers. I affectionately call this image “A Huggies Run”.

Up and down Western Avenue from Hollywood Boulevard to Beverly Boulevard were reports of looting.  Some businesses were set on fire.  A supervisor requested all available units to respond to Santa Monica and Western Avenue.  When we arrived, numerous businesses were on fire, there were thousands of people in the streets, mostly Hispanic.  A shoe store was being looted.  We formed up into a skirmish line.

Now I’ve had rocks and bottles thrown at me during demonstrations and at rock concerts at the Palladium. This group was throwing shoes from the shoe store on the corner.  I just dodged a ladies pump, the officer next to me got hit with a cowboy boot in the shoulder.  I’d never been shoed before.  We moved the crowd west until we reached St. Andrews.  Another few hundred people were gathered to the north.  We didn’t have enough officers to protect our flank if we continued west.  We had less than a dozen officers against thousands of people.  We stood our ground as rioters threw at us whatever was handy.  Most of these people were Hispanic, illegal immigrants, and I wonder if they knew who Rodney King was.

LA riots photo courtesy of KoreAm Journal
LA riots
photo courtesy of KoreAm Journal

At one point I saw a guy in the back ground raise a handgun and fire off a shot in the air.  We were told that the Sears store a block away was being looted, our sergeant  says we don’t have enough officers. A few minutes later an unmarked police car drives up to me.  It was two policemen and the Deputy Chief and Commander from our Bureau.  The Commander, Bob, a great guy asked me is this all the officers you have, I reply “yea”.  They turned around and left.  About two months later, I was given a VHS tape taken by a news crew.  The tape shows the back door of Sears.  The two policemen and the Commander are chasing away the crowd.  The Deputy Chief is standing at the back door, he has a shot gun and is butt stroking looters as they flee Sears.  I’ll bet it was hard to carry a TV, run and be hit in the ass with a shot gun.  It was the only justice I saw that day.  Nothing politically correct, just old fashioned police work, taking care of business.

Another part of that tape shows a man standing outside a drug store on Hollywood Boulevard.  He had a handful of shopping bags and was stopping people walking by and giving them a bag, then directing them into the drug store to take whatever they wanted.

My next story will deal with some of humorous incidents that happened during the “RIOTS”.  It won’t be the stuff you see on the news or in the official L.A.P.D. documentary.

Hal

 

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Ramblings: About Firemen

 By Hal Collier

 

 

Firefighters
Firefighters

The following story is true.  I didn’t change the names because I never knew their names.  If you remember, I spent most of my career at Hollywood Division.

 

Right behind Hollywood Police Station was Los Angeles Fire Station # 27.  Fire station #27 is a battalion station, which means it has 2 engine trucks, a hook and ladder truck, 2 paramedic trucks, a haz-mat truck and a battalion chief.  That’s as big as it gets in the inner city.  I once heard that #27 was the busiest fire station in the world.

 

Remember Hollywood never sleeps.  I use the term firemen because I’m not sure what’s the politically correct name for firepersons.  No offense intended, I’m just a dinosaur.

 

Police officers and firemen are brothers in arms.  When a policeman gets shot or hurt, it’s a fireman who saves his life.  Our pay, benefit and contracts with the city, are usually fought together.  Our pensions are similar but most important we have the same views of dirt bags and celebrities.

 

Firemen have taught me valuable lessons in life.  If you’re at a fire, conducting crowd or traffic control and a fireman drops his fire hose and runs, try to keep up with him.  If it’s a big fire and their cantina lunch truck shows up, it’s your lucky day.  Firemen eat good.

 

Recently, there was big news about an L.A City fireman who sued his department because he said he was discriminated against, because he was black.  He was fed dog food as a practical joke, because he claimed he was the “Big Dog”.  After a civil trial he was awarded 1.5 million.  During the trial he admitted he participated in practical jokes against other firemen.  Firemen and police officers have been playing practical jokes since the earth cooled.  I have some first-hand knowledge with firemen and their practical jokes.

 

The first incident I was not involved in but learned from other officers.  There’s a fire station on Mulholland Drive near Laurel Canyon.  It’s a small station and not that busy.  A Hollywood Senior Lead Officer was known to frequent the station house and play ping pong with the firemen.  He was usually accompanied by a rookie officer and showed up around lunch.  The firemen would welcome the rookie into the fire station and usher the rookie into a seat at a table.  The seat was rigged with a small waterline that would squirt water onto the crotch of whoever was sitting at the table.  Your tax dollars at work!

 

LAFD Helo
LAFD Helo

The next incident involved a homeless man living in the hills in the Cahuenga Pass.  He was preparing his dinner, BBQ pigeon over an open fire.  A resident called the fire department, concerned about a brush fire.  Fireman are fun loving people until you mess with them about fire.  The homeless man was quite a ways up the hill and it was a hot day.  The fire department has those water dropping helicopters and one just happened to be in the area.  The helicopter told the homeless man over his loud speaker to put out the fire.  Homeless are not your touchy-feely sort of people and generally men of few words. The homeless man gave the helicopter the one finger wave.

 

The helicopter again warned the man to put out his fire.  The homeless man gave a two finger wave this time, one finger on each hand.  The helicopter dropped thousands of gallons of water on the man and his camp.  Fire out, campground closed due to flooding.

 

LAFD Truck 27
LAFD Truck 27

Have you ever noticed that all fire trucks have big numbers on them? Those numbers indicate which station the fire truck comes from.  #27 comes from fire station 27, etc.  Now, I spent a lot of time conducting traffic control at fires.  See, firemen park anywhere they need to fight the fire.  I understood that, but what bothered me was that it took them longer to pick up their hoses and clear the streets than to fight the fire.  Sometimes they would stand around and BS with a friend from another station.  I couldn’t leave until they did.  Back to those numbers, they are metallic.  You can change 27 to read 72 or put them upside down or sideways if you wish.  Just don’t get caught.  Firemen are obsessive about of their equipment.

 

I was walking past the rear gate to FD #27 one day and saw a firemen lying on his back.  He was washing the underside of the fire truck.  I guessed that only an unfortunate pedestrian would notice and remark, “Wow, the underside of that fire truck is clean.”  I envy firemen’s equipment. I had to bribe our garage attendants to wash my police car once a month.

 

If the above seemed juvenile, let me tell you about the fishing pole.  The new #27 fire station was a two story beauty right behind the back door to the police station.  On warm summer evenings the firemen would sit up on the roof, smoking expensive cigars and watching the coming and goings of police officers.  They especially liked nights when we ran prostitution task forces.  They would sit up there with binoculars watching the girls as they were marched through the back door in their skimpy outfits.

 

OK, back to the fishing pole.  There was a 10 foot wall that separated the police station from the fire station.  On the police side, we had a carport and a narrow driveway.  The firemen would tie a 3 inch rat-looking piece of material to the end of the line.  They would then cast it over the wall between parked police cars and wait.  When an unsuspecting officer walked toward the back door they would reel in the line until the rat ran across the officer’s feet.  As the officer jumped around and sometimes screaming the firemen would burst out in laughter.  They particularly liked female officers. They screamed the loudest and had the best moves.

 

Another variation was tying a $5 bill to the fishing line and when an officer attempted to pick up the bill they would reel it away.  I once watched a young officer chase that $5 bill for 30 feet, 1 foot at a time.  I made it a practice to check the roof top of the fire station when entering the police station parking lot.

 

And you thought I was slow.  Again, your tax dollars at work.

 

Practical Joke

 

As you saw at the beginning of this story, not all practical jokes turn out good.  One night Fire Station #27 was assigned two female paramedics.  They were classmates and it was their first shift together.  It was during the midnight to dawn shift that they got bored.  They were driving around Hollywood and spotted two Hollywood officers parked.  They thought it would be fun to throw water balloons at the officers.  Instead of balloons they threw saline IV bags.  Everyone laughed and drove off in different directions.  Only, the officers wanted revenge.

 

LAFD ambulance
LAFD ambulance

The officers contacted their Sergeant.  A dozen eggs were bought and a deserted parking lot was found.  A request for an ambulance was made and the two female paramedics arrived. Ok. Eggs were thrown and everyone agreed that payback was a bitch.  At 3 A.M., the paramedics drove back to the station and began washing the ambulance.  Unfortunately, the Battalion Chief woke up and wanted an investigation.  The female paramedics admitted their guilt and were punished.  The involved officers were never identified.  Before any of my former partners check the statute of limitations, I was working that night but wasn’t there.

 

I love firemen, just like my fellow officers.  Were different but very much the same.  Police officers will run to gunfire but won’t go near a burning building.

 

In future stories, I will discuss the 3 days I spent with firemen during the riots.  Yea, I said riots, I was there and trust me it wasn’t civil unrest!

 

Hal

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Ramblings: Females part 3: Why I Liked Working with Females

by Hal Collier

 

This is the final installment of my Ramblings involving female officers.  I wrote all three Female Ramblings before e-mailing the first out.  That was in case someone tried to talk me out of writing more.

 

LAPD officers
LAPD officers

Like most dinosaurs of the LAPD, I had my reservations about working with a female officer. Sure they were good to look at and they smelled nice but would they help me kick some doped-up speed freak’s ass?  After all, cops depend on their partners to back each other up.  Some of the females were only 5′ tall and weighed less than a hundred pounds.

 

As I mentioned, I worked with the first female patrol cop assigned to Hollywood.  It was a good experience and we got along fine.  A short time later, I was assigned another female officer.  No problem, they knew their job and didn’t shy away from a fight.  I seemed to get assigned every new female officer that came to Morning watch. 

 

This displeased my wife very much.  I lied when I told her they weren’t very attractive and she didn’t need to worry, after all I was a professional police officer and a model husband. Yeah, right.

 

Once, before direct deposit, my wife accompanied me to the station to pick up my pay check.  She stays in the car as I run into the station.  As I’m coming out the back door I run into Linda, one of my female partners.  She is returning from court and has on a black dress and her long blond hair is down.  Now I have never seen Linda with her hair down, but wow!  Linda was a body builder and in that tight-fitting dress, she was very attractive.  My wife asks me is that the captain’s secretary?  Like the dumb ass that I am, I say, “no, that’s Linda, my partner.”  I would tell you the ride home was quiet but the fact is it wasn’t and I didn’t say much.  My wife knew that a lot of male officers left their wives and kids for a younger female partner.  I know of a captain who has 3 ex-wives, all cops (names available for a cashier’s check or a new deep sea fishing rod). 

 

There was a good reason why I was assigned a lot of female partners. One, I had the patience of an oyster, two, I was trusted not to date my probationers.  I was more afraid of the Watch Commander at home than the one at the station. 

 

We had some officers who were never assigned a female probationer, or at least a second time.  Example:  Bobby Cxxxxxxxd, you fill in the missing letters.   He was assigned a young attractive, unmarried, female officer.  He spent half the night telling her not to date any cops until she got off probation.  He went on to warn her that she would be asked out after work because she was single and attractive.  After work, Bobby asked her out for a drink.  Bobby was never assigned to work with a female probationer again.  I believe Bobby had 3 ex-wives. Duh.

 

I once was asked by a female partner why I didn’t stare at women like the other male cops she had worked with.  I told her, “I stare, I just don’t make it obvious.”  I’ve been married for a long time and I wanted to keep it that way.

 

As I said at the beginning of this Ramblings series, I was a training officer for 21 years.  During that time I learned that it was easier to talk suspects into jail than fight them and ruin a good uniform.  Now, a lot of young cops are macho and have to prove themselves.

 

Females were more persuasive.  I saw many a suspect that would fight me but not a female.  I once had a large drug addict that told me he wasn’t going to jail.  I’m taking off my watch, removing my pen and pencil and getting ready for another big fight.  These are items that get broken or tear uniforms in a fight.

 

My partner, Bambie, (her real name) says to me, “let me talk to him.”  In a calm, non-threatening voice she convinced this drug-crazed dumb ass to submit to arrest.  I might get another day out of this uniform yet, but where the hell did I put my watch?

 

 

American female officer photo by copshop dot.com
American female officer photo by copshop dot.com

I actually liked working with female officers as long as they came to work, were ready to work, didn’t throw up at decaying dead bodies, as some of the men did, and didn’t want to exchange recipes.  I did have a few problems during the transition period.  The transition period was for both of us.  The females had to learn that police work is not pretty and I had to learn that you treat them just like everyone else. 

 

The biggest conflict I had was that my mother taught me to always be a gentlemen. Tip your hat, stand when a lady enters the room, open or hold the door for a lady.  That last one caused me the most conflict.  We’d handle a radio call at an apartment building and upon leaving I couldn’t stand walking through the door ahead of a women.  One female officer challenged me not to treat her as a women.  I told her, “It’s in case there’s a sniper outside, you’ll take the first shot.”  That knocked her down a peg or two.  That line worked for years.  Most of my partners laughed. Yea, I still open the car door for my wife.

 

I had a partner who I was bringing along during her probation.  We took a Burglary from Motor Vehicle report where the witness gave us a suspect description and we searched the area.  A 1/4 mile away my partner, screams “there he is”, waking up sleeping birds.  I was surprised the suspect didn’t take off running.  He might have been as shocked as I was. 

 

One of the worst radio calls a man can handle is a rape investigation.  Imagine a female’s worst nightmare and two burly men show up and want to ask you all these personal questions.  Some victims referred it to being violated a second time.  I’ll be the first to admit that some male officers were less than sympatric.  Female officers were more understanding and able to get the necessary vital information for a complete investigation.  I once got a call to take a rape report at Central Division.  My partner got a commendation and I got a cup of coffee from a machine at Parker Center.

 

Another transition working with females was they were like your mother.  They didn’t want to eat at Pink’s, or Astro-Burger.  They wanted to eat healthy and they wanted you to, also.  The good old boys club has become the little boys club.  I started eating salads every day, and using less dressing.  I had one partner who would save some of her meal for stray animals.  We would then drive around and look for hungry dogs or cats.  Once we spotted a kitten with a potato chip bag stuck on its head.  Picture this, two of LAPD’s finest chasing this cat around the streets of Hollywood. It probably looked like one of those funniest home videos.

 

Female police officers Venice Beach, July 12, 2012 photo by flickr.com
Female police officers Venice Beach, July 12, 2012
photo by flickr.com

This was the day when I knew that the Good Old Boys club was dead:  I’m the Watch Commander. My Assistant Watch Commander, Storm Officer, and ACC (computer) operator are all females.  Most men would think this is heaven, surrounded by these young, attractive and vibrant females.  Well, I’m deep in paperwork, when I over hear the hub of the command center discussing how long it takes to recover from a breast enhancement and how dilated they were when they gave birth.  Yea, the good old days were gone forever.

 

Now, before I get a hundred angry e-mails, from both sexes, I enjoyed working with females.  Some taught me more than I taught them.  I sometimes found their approach to police work refreshing and other times frustrating, either way it was fun.  My only complaint was when a women got a promotion over a man because of affirmative action or quotas, even though she had half the experience.  Send all comments with a cash payment, no stimulus checks.   OK, fire away.           Hal

 

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Females, Part 2–On Patrol

By Hal Collier

The following stories are true and again are only my opinions.  I’m sure that other officers of both sexes have different views of female officers in the LAPD.  I welcome hearing from anyone.

In the early 70’s, most people didn’t think women should or could be police officers.  Even Chief of Police Edward M. Davis was against women working patrol.  I worked with a lot of females throughout my career and they had a lot of different reasons for joining and diverse backgrounds.

Here are a few.

One female officer said she was looking for a husband, cops have a good steady job, they’re clean, (disease free) and they’re in good shape.  Another said she was an interior decorator in Texas and came to California for work. She found out that everyone in California was an interior decorator, so she applied to be a cop.  She was the one who thought we carried dynamite (road flares) in the trunks of our police cars.

I worked with one female who drove an expensive BMW and had expensive clothes.  In her previous job, she made double my salary, so I asked her why work for LAPD?  She said the money was nice but her job was boring.  She was looking for some excitement.  She found it on the LAPD.  Quite a few said it was the only job they could find with benefits.  We had one female probationer who arrived at work each morning, dressed like she just slid off the pole at a strip club.  She was not retained when it was discovered she was dating both her male training officers at the same time.  A few slept their way through probation and promotions.

LAPD women
LAPD women

I was a training officer for over twenty-one years and worked with a lot of probationers or “rookies,” as some called them.  As I stated in my first Ramblings, I worked morning watch with one of the first female police officers.  My wife didn’t like that I was working with a female, alone all night.  I discovered that my wife was not the Watch Commander at work, only at home.

The first thing I noticed was that on almost every call you had a back-up unit.  As I stated, we were a good old boys club and most men didn’t think females could do the job.  Some of the officers were there to save my butt, if need be, and others were there hoping the female would fail.

I’ll never forget my first fight with a female partner.  It’s Christmas Eve and we get a domestic dispute radio call.  Two brothers, drunk, get into an argument and one punches the other in the nose, breaking it.  The brother with the broken nose wants his brother arrested for battery.  No problem, right? A simple citizen arrest and report.  We might even get off on time.

We handcuff the brother and put him in our police car.  I’m driving, of course, and sitting in the police car.  My female partner is in the back seat with the drunk brother.  Just as I’m about to drive away the brothers’ mother comes running out and says, “You’re not arresting my son on Christmas Eve.”  She reaches in the driver’s window and grabs me by the neck.  I open the car door and knock the mother to the ground.  She’s about 110 pounds and I later learn, a 60 year old grammar school teacher.  I step out and she jumps up and attacks me.  I grab her arm and spin her around in a rear wrist lock.  I hear a familiar snap. Oh shit, I just broke her arm.

This can’t get any worse right, wrong.  The son, handcuffed in the back seat screams, “What are you doing to my mother?”  My partner comes to assist me in handcuffing the now one armed school teacher.  The son begins kicking the door window of our police car.  My partner subdues him with a few punches to the ribs.  Everyone goes to jail for Christmas except the son with the broken nose.

There were changes to be made and it wasn’t going to be the women who changed.  Think of it as a marriage, who changes?  First, the men had to stop swearing in roll call, although some of the females swore like a sailor.  Next, no more blond jokes or for that matter all female gender jokes were banned.  No more jokes on how many female officers does it take to screw up a crime scene.

LAPD officers
LAPD officers

Women as a rule were of smaller stature, which presented a whole new set of issues.  Some of the shorter women couldn’t close the police car trunk from the back bumper.  They had to step to the side fender where they could reach the trunk lid.  In the 70’s, all the police cars had bench seats.  Go ahead—let your 5 foot 3 inch partner drive and spend the night with your knees in the dash for eight hours.

I’m going to leave you with one more female cop story.  I’m not working with a female this night and a “robbery just occurred” call comes out.   A female officer arrives and puts out a crime broadcast.  She describes the suspect, male white, 6-0, 180 pounds last seen westbound Sunset in a fuchsia colored Ford.  It might have been the interior decorator.  I look at my male partner and ask what the hell color is fuchsia.    Most of us good old boys never graduated past the primary colors, you know the ones that make up a rainbow.  After 35 years as a big city cop, I still don’t know what color fuchsia is.

Next Ramblings, why I liked working with female partners.     Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Females Part One

 

By Hal Collier

The following stories are true.  These observations are mine and definitely don’t reflect the opinions of the LAPD or some of the female officers I worked with.  I’m treading on some thin ice with this subject, but what the hell.  Any comments will be considered for my next installment.

 

For years, the LAPD was a good old boys club.  Patrol was only staffed with men, some had served in WW ll, or Korea, most in Viet Nam and upon discharge joined the police department.  

 

Policewoman badge
Policewoman badge

Female officers, they were always on the LAPD but they were assigned to the desk or Juvenile Division.  My badge said Policeman across the top, the females’ badges said Policewomen, duh.  The females could not rise above the rank of sergeant.

 

Anyone who came on the Department some time in 73-74 received a badge that said Police officer!  A “Policeman” badge became a badge of honor, no pun intended.

 

The first integrated academy class graduated three female police officers.  Guess who got the first one in Hollywood? Yep, I’m working morning watch and I’m going to be working with a female all night.  My wife was not pleased.

 

 

Pioneering police women
Pioneering police women

A lot of officers were not happy about females being patrol cops, including Chief Edward M. Davis.  Me, I always liked women. Hell, I married one, my mom and sisters are female.  I know that those first female patrol officers faced a lot of resentment and yes, harassment.  Working with a female partner required a lot of adjustment on the man’s part.  I’ll described some of the changes.

 

You work with someone for eight hours you get to know them pretty well.  Being in a police car for that long is similar to being trapped in an elevator.  If you’re both married, you know each other’s spouse, children and pets by name.  You hear about their problems, successes and maybe even her menstrual cycle.  If she’s single, you hear about her last date, or a detailed description of her pets. 

 

Let’s start with bodily functions.  Yea, I know, how can you write about something like that?  A little history.  When two male officers work together and one says, “I got to pee,” it’s no problem. We hit an alley and the officer with the smaller bladder got out and took care of business.  Done in two minutes, no problem.  It’s not as if all the homeless people or drunks in Hollywood haven’t already peed in that alley.

 

I once got out to pee in an alley and as I’m taking care of business, I look up and there’s an old lady looking at me from her apartment window.  I forgot that old people get up a lot in the middle of the night.  I now understand.  I zipped up and waved hello, she waved back. I logged it as a neighborhood watch meeting, attendance three.

 

Two police officers in a car
Two police officers in a car. photo by colourbox.com

 

The other bodily function is the one that no one will admit ever happens.  That’s right—the sudden release or escape of gas.  For my less literate friends, a fart.  I’m going to paint a picture that you’ll never see in Readers Digest.  

 

You started out your shift with a “Pink’s Hot Dog,” extra chili and onions, a couple of Jalapenos and a root beer.  An hour later your stomach is making noises that will register on the Richter Scale.

 

Some men feel that a fart is a sign of masculinity, something to be proud of, the louder the better.  I was brought up different, my mom didn’t approve of public displays of flatulence.   I don’t think I released gas in my wife’s presence until we had been married 10 years, at least that’s the way I remember it.  Some women have different views, but what are you going to do sitting in a police car for hours at a time?

 

So I’m working with a female partner and the Pink’s hot dog is settling in my lower stomach.  I pull into a nearby alley and tell my partner I have to check for something in the trunk.  I fumble around in the trunk, making a lot of noise, then happily return to regular patrol.  My female partner would also have to check the trunk once in a while.  Patrol was different working with a women, at least most of them.  We once had a female probationer who was nick-named the “Blue Flame.” No kidding. She didn’t know my mother.

[No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find a photo to illustrate the above. I think it is for the best.-Thonie]

Next Females as patrol cops.                                                                       

 

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Motor Cops, Part 2

By Hal Collier

 

In my last Ramblings, I mentioned Motor cops having dust-offs.  A dust-off was a minor accident where the motor cop got up and dusted himself off and didn’t report the incident.  Motor cops received a tie clip with the number of years that they didn’t have a reported accident.  Robbie said he saw motor cops in roll call with blood dripping down their arms.  When asked, no accident, nasty rose bush or angry Chihuahua dog.

Not all motor cops were as lucky. 34 LAPD motorcycle (M/C) officers have died in traffic accidents.  Paul Verna was shot to death by robbery suspects.  I later supervised his son in Hollywood.  Clarence Wayne Dean died when he drove off a just collapsed freeway overpass during an earthquake. These were just a few.

Ken Osmond after LAPD shooting while on his motor.
Ken Osmond after LAPD shooting while on his motor.

Remember Eddie Haskell of “Leave It to Beaver” fame?  Ken Osmond, his real name, later became a LAPD Motor Cop.  In September 1980, he was shot three times while chasing a stolen taxi.  Two of the bullets struck his bullet-proof vest and the third ricocheted off his belt buckle. See photo, Ken in the ambulance.

One of the other dangers of being a BCMC is the injuries of too many reported accidents.  Almost all motor cops have back problems, most have multiple surgery scars.  Craig admits to two back surgeries, one hip replacement, and one neck surgery.  He says he aches all the time but riding sure was fun.

I knew one motor cop in Hollywood, Norm, who had metal braces attached to his boots for support.  Motor cops take their motorcycles home every day.  I knew one motor cop who crashed with a deer on the way home to Palmdale.  Ouch!  Some survive and return to work, others are not so lucky.  They have permanent injuries and are pensioned off work.  As they get older the more the injuries hurt.  If you’re collecting Social Security right now think of how you feel getting up in the morning—and you’ve never had a dust-off.

Lou described an accident he had on the freeway.  His radio was B/O (broken) and he was enroute downtown to get it fixed.  Lou hit an oil spill on a transition road and went down.  He couldn’t call for help and stood on the transition road for 45 minutes as the citizens drove by with smiles on their faces.  Another time, Lou described how his motorcycle caught on fire while he was riding it.  Not all Los Angeles City equipment is new.  After Lou’s last accident, he gave up riding when his doctor asked him if he planned to walk in retirement.

With all that doom and gloom what’s the attraction?  Why do apparently healthy, mentally sound (?) officers want to ride a motorcycle in a big city or any city for that matter?  The rewards must be greater than the negatives.

I surveyed the many motor cops I have worked with and here’s their replies.  Craig said it was for the money.  Motor cops take their motorcycles home each day.  They have free transportation to and from work and they don’t pay for gas.  They also get a lot of overtime for attending traffic court.  Motor Officers also get hazard pay but I don’t think it’s enough.

Lou talked about the freedom of riding a motor.  You had to write your tickets but let the sergeant try and find you.  Motor sergeants were usually old motor cops who promoted. The working motor cops had more shit on the supervisor then he had on them.  “Tell on me and I’ll tell on you.”

Skip said there’s only two kinds of cops, those who ride motors and those who want to ride motors.  He went on to say there are two kinds of motor cops, those who have gone down and those who are going to go down.  Think about having a dust-off in your future?

Skip also recalled the time he was off-duty and on his way home in Burbank.  He saw an obvious drunk driver and just couldn’t let him drive any longer.  He stopped the driver and found out that he wasn’t drunk, just crazy as a loon.  Skip escorted him into the lobby of the Burbank Police station, then rode away.  Who was that masked motor cop?

Robbie was a little more verbose, (wordy). You either love riding motorcycles or you hated it.  He loved riding.  Most motor cops rode motorcycles before applying for LAPD motor school.  Robbie said riding a black & white M/C with red light and siren was just a bigger rush.  He said going in pursuit on his motorcycle had no equal on the Richter scale.

Robbie also said that the L.A. Police Department thought that motor cops were nuts so they got away with more than a patrol cop.  Robbie has been retired for over 20 years and still has dreams of riding his Harley in L.A. with his partners.  Hopefully he doesn’t have dreams of the dust-offs!  Motor cops love to ride, and a lot ride their own bikes after retirement, not unlike “Easy Rider.”

I’m going to describe some of the motor cop incidents that I observed.

 

LAPD motor officers Venice Beach, Ca May 29, 2012
LAPD motor officers Venice Beach, Ca May 29, 2012 photo from flickriver.com

I worked Hollywood patrol for more years than the Andy Griffith show was on TV.  In that time, I had a lot of interaction with motor cops.  I can’t think of a bad experience that whole time.  I transported their drunk drivers and warrant suspects.  If a motor cop gets flagged down by a robbery victim, I took the report.  Motor cops lose the ability to take non-traffic reports when they graduate from motor school.  No problem, they bailed me out of many multi-car traffic accidents.

I knew one motor cop who was the most interesting.  Avo, was a senior motor officer and he worked Hollywood Day watch.  I never saw Avo mad or heard him complain about anything.  He loved riding motors and loved life.

I once received a radio call for transportation for Avo at Hollywood Boulevard and Cherokee.  I was close and as I arrived I spotted Avo’s M/C parked at the curb.  Avo’s helmet was resting on his handle bars.  The only thing missing was Avo.  I looked up and down Hollywood Boulevard.  No Avo. I sent my probationer up Cherokee to a parking lot to see if Avo was there.  Nothing!  If you knew Avo you knew he didn’t run after anyone.  I’m about to put out an “officer needs help” call when I spot Avo walking out of a ice cream store.  Avo has a single dip cone and his arrestee has a double dip cone, both bought by Avo.  No wonder I never had to fight one of Avo’s arrestees.

Another time I’m leaving the station parking lot and as I drive northbound up the street, I see this official LAPD motor cycle southbound on the sidewalk.  It’s Avo. He’s walking his arrestee to the station for booking. Clarification, the arrestee was walking, Avo was riding.  What no ice cream?

I was once working deep under cover.  I was wearing a wig and hadn’t shaved in a week.  We were driving a Bundy-Rent-A-Wreck.  For my non-police friends, Bundy rents cars that the auto wreckers turned away. Most had bald tires, dents and current registration was not an option.  We were in Venice and looking for real bad guys.  This car I’m driving was cherry—it had a rear view mirror. I look at the mirror.  I see a motor cop with red lights on. Crap, he’s pulling us over.

My partner looks worse than I do.  I can see it on the 5 o’clock news.  Get out of the car, hands up, lie on the hot ground, arms and legs spread out.  Where did I put my badge?  I rip off my wig and step out making sure that I don’t make any furtive moves.  My hands are so high that low flying sea gulls are in danger.  Wait, I recognize that motor cop. It’s Bohlen. He’s worked Hollywood!  I yell out, “Bohlen, it’s me Collier from Hollywood.”  He looks at me then the car and shakes his head.  We both looked like wrecks.

Motor cops are definitely a different breed from patrol cops but damn, they sure were fun to work with.  Motor cops have been seen driving home with a Christmas tree on the back of their motorcycle.

One last thought, a motor cop in Hollywood had a license plate frame on his police motorcycle that said, “Smile, I could be behind you.”  His sergeant made him take it off.       

Hal