To see Hal Collier’s latest locker room story, go to www.thoniehevron.com–Just the Facts, Ma’am
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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, Three Short Stories
Don’t forget to steer over to www.thoniehevron.com for Hal Collier’s newest installment of LAPD stories.
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Ramblings, Locker Room Story
By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD
Remember to go to www.thoniehevron.com for the latest hilarity from Hal Collier!
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Ramblings: A Dumb Burglar Story
For another hilarious Hal Collier Ramblings, remember go to www.thoniehevron.com for “A Dumb Burglar Story”
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Ramblings, More LAPD Fun
By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD
The next two stories involved a dual status sergeant/detective. He was a nice guy and had the best interests of the LAPD in everything he did. He was just such a kiss ass that he was ripe for practical jokes. He was once on vacation and came in for a tactical alert. Trust me. One sergeant is not going to change the course of war on crime.
I wasn’t present for this joke, but he told it to me. He was working South Bureau Homicide and was sitting at his desk when he noticed a foul smell. The smell got worse as the week progressed. By Friday he couldn’t stand it anymore so he took his desk apart—nothing. Next, he turned his desk chair over and there it was. One of his partners had been deer hunting and tied a deer tail under his desk. Rotting flesh!
Another time—and this was all my idea—I got one of those office three hole-punches. You know the industrial ones with about a thousand little white hole- punch dots. I cleaned it out and saved the punches. I placed them in a Styrofoam cup and placed it above the closed office door. An accomplice waited outside so we didn’t get our captain.
Our sergeant, in his nice blue uniform, opened the door and stepped inside. General McArthur didn’t have that much confetti in his welcome home parade. I was pretty proud of myself until I realized I had to clean up the hole- punches. Not a problem– I’ll get the janitors vacuum and clean up the mess. Problem, the janitor’s room is locked. After a half hour search, we find a key and there I am in uniform pushing a vacuum.
It was worth it. Again your tax dollars at work.
–Hal
Remember to go to www.thoniehevron.com for the website version.
–Thonie
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Ramblings, More Fun at LAPD
By Hal Collier
Retired LAPD
Ok, some more fun from the Los Angeles Police Department, once called the finest police department in the world. That’s is until the politicians and the media changed the public’s perception.
We are still the best but after a few years of criticism and politicians dictating how police work should be done, a lot of officers saw the only way for career survival was to do little and avoid confrontations. Ok, I’m going to carefully back down off my soap box and get back to fun.
I never worked Detectives but some of the best practical jokes ever played occurred in the detective room at Hollywood Station. Remember the detective’s desk drawer lined with a plastic bag and filled with water? Detectives always seem to have spare time.
I think just about every Homicide Detective had a can of shaving cream close by. No, not to take care of that 5 o’clock shadow!
A detective would load up the earpiece of a detective’s desk phone with shaving cream and then summon the target detective to pick up line two. According to plan the detective would pick up the phone and hold it up to his ear and immediately get a 1/4 ounce of shaving cream packed into his ear. The entire squad room would laugh and the detective would spend the next thirty minutes in the bathroom removing shaving cream from his ear.
One day, detective John set up a partner who had been riding him for wearing the same C&R suit for a week. The detective John loaded up the target detective’s phone with shaving cream. John was distracted by the target detective who maneuvered him to his desk. Another detective informed the detective John to pick up line two. That’s right John picked up the phone on the target detectives desk and caught himself in his own joke. He had shaving cream in his ear and on his C&R suit. Funny.
~~
Another favorite was to tell a detective you have a message to call Detective Meoff at headquarters. Here’s his name and phone number. The detective would dial the number and ask for Detective Meoff.
Who?
Detective Meoff!
I was told to call this number and ask for Detective Jack Meoff!!!! Jack me off; get it?
Ok, a little juvenile but that’s your tax dollars at work.
–Hal
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Ramblings, Losing an Officer
By Hal Collier
Retired LAPD
Did you ever have one of those incidents where one minute you were calm and actually got to finish a cup of coffee while it was still hot and the next minute is the exact opposite?
My night is going smoothly and I’m hoping to coast for a few more hours and then go home and enjoy my next three days off. We’d just put another bad guy in jail and finished our arrest report. The sun will be coming up in a few hours, my favorite time of the day. It’s about 4:00 a.m. as I drive out of the Hollywood Police Station parking lot. I turn north on Wilcox and head toward Hollywood Boulevard. The Boulevard has been deserted for at least an hour. The bars and clubs have closed, the drunks have found their cars and the predators of the weak have given up and gone home.
Or so I thought.
I just crossed Selma Avenue when I notice a strange light lying in the middle of Wilcox. I drive up to the light. It’s a metal flashlight. Just like the kind most cops use! In a millisecond chaos erupts.
A citizen drives up to us and asks me, “Are you looking for that cop who was in a fight?”
“What cop?” There goes that coasting to EOW (End of Watch)!
I ask the citizen, “Where did he go?”
He replies, “I don’t know, I lost sight of him when I turned around.”
Ok, I’ve got a lost cop who probably needs help. I pick up the police radio to broad cast “Officers needs help!”
Suddenly I hear a shot. Oh shit, this is turning real bad in a hurry. My heart has jumped into my throat and my mind is racing.
Now in the middle of a big city with lots of buildings, it’s often hard to tell from where a sound is coming. I’m guessing it’s from the street west of me. I speed around to the next street and turn south. I don’t see anything at first. I slow down and hear a voice yell, “Over here!”
There’s a cop sitting on the ground in a parking lot. He’s pointing to another individual lying on the ground in front of the Chesterfield Hotel. That individual has been shot! I get on my radio and soon the entire division has thrown out their coffee and joined us, including the Watch Commander. An ambulance responds and treats the individual for a gunshot wound and my cop for a contusion to his head.
Not only are we not going to coast to EOW but we’re not going to get off on time, and my three days off are going to be cut short by at least a day. It’s overtime but my pillow is going to miss me!
Here’s what happened: The cop was a Hollywood sergeant just driving down Hollywood Boulevard. He heard what he thought was glass breaking. He pulled to the curb to investigate.
A Drag Queen named, Otha, had just smashed the display window to Playmates, a famous Hollywood Boulevard lingerie shop. I guess he was doing a little early shopping. This was in the 70’s and the only police radio was in the car. If you were out of the car and needed help, you had to run back to the car radio or fight for your life. My sergeant confronted Otha and the fight was on. Otha gained control of the sergeant’s flashlight and hit the sergeant in the head. The sergeant was dazed but not about to give up the fight.
The two combatants ran westbound through the parking lot. Otha climbed over a four-foot chain link fence next to the Chesterfield Hotel. The sergeant was starting to feel the effects of the blow to his head. Fearing he might pass out and lose his weapon to Otha, the sergeant fired one shot. The bullet hit the chain link fence and split into two fragments. Both fragments hit Otha.
The sergeant survived, as well as Otha, except that Otha went to jail after being treated for two wounds from one gunshot. Me, I had trouble sleeping that day. I kept waking up, it sometimes takes a long time for the adrenalin to leave your body and let you coast.
Hal
Due to some technical glitches, the blog layout on my website http://www.thoniehevron.com didn’t work the way I hoped. So here’s Hal’s Ramblings installment for Sunday, December 6th, 2015. It’s also on my website but just barely readable. I’ll update my progress here. Until it’s fixed, come here for Hal’s Rambling.
With apologies for this nuisance, Thonie
~~~
By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD
Did you ever make an arrest that started out good but later turned to crap? This is that kind of arrest. As usual I’m working Hollywood Morning Watch (graveyard) and I get a radio call at the Bowl Motel at 2010 Highland Avenue.
“See the Man, Robbery just occurred. Suspect described as a female Caucasian, 5’10” 160 lbs.; Last seen running southbound on Highland Avenue toward Hollywood Boulevard. Property taken wallet and car keys.”
A little background. The Bowl Motel was a dirt-bag motel usually inhabited by prostitutes, hypes, drug dealers and the low life’s that frequent the entertainment capital of the world. I’m guessing the advertisement for the Bowl Motel stated, “We’re within walking distance to the Famous Hollywood Bowl.” Which it was, but it was also within running distance of Hollywood Boulevard! I’m guessing it was never on the Star Line celebrity tour. Any crime coming out of the Bowl Motel at 3 A. M. with a man and a female suspect had to be prostitution or drug related. Most female suspects 5’10” and 160 pounds are not female. That’s right, a man dressed as a woman. They were called Drag Queens, before the world became politically correct. I won’t go into whether the man knew he was dating a large-boned woman or just liked men dressed as females.
We meet the victim. A victimless crime as prostitution is often described! He’s a well-dressed, middle management type who stuns me with his honesty. He admits picking up the prostitute on Highland Avenue near Hollywood Boulevard and going back to the Bowl Motel. Once in the motel room, he was told to go into the bathroom and wash up. First mistake—he had removed his pants. When he exited the bathroom his wallet and car keys were missing. He confronted the female and she threatened him with a knife. She fled out the motel door and he said that girl could really run fast. At least his car was still parked outside the room.
We conducted a thorough interview and collection of evidence. Ok, we got the basics and had him sign the report. We use to have a saying for these types of crimes, “You came to Hollywood to get screwed and you got screwed!” I exchanged the word “screwed” for a better known word. Hint it starts with an “f—.”
We’re on our way back to the station to finish the report and we drive past Hollywood and Highland. Well, shit howdy, there’s our suspect. We handcuff him. Yes, she was a “he”. We have another unit pick up our victim for a field show-up, or what we use to call a one person line up!
Victim says, “That’s her!” We break the news that she’s a man. He didn’t act surprised. Our suspect admits to taking his wallet and still even has it.
We have the other officers transport the victim to the station while we take our suspect in our car. It’s not a good idea to transport them together unless you want to end up on one of those YouTube videos of stupid cops!
At the station the suspect tells us the victim’s car keys are in the bottom of the motel swimming pool. He didn’t want the victim following him in his car.
Ok, we conduct a more detailed interview of our victim. He asks for a ride back to the motel to get his keys out of the pool and drive home to his wife and three kids. I agree to take him back to the motel because I need some information from the motel manager. I leave my partner at the station to start writing the arrest report. I drive the victim back to the lovely Bowl Motel.
This is where this arrest turns to crap. I pull into the driveway of the Bowl Motel. I stop at the manager’s office.
My victim yells, “What are they doing to my car?” I look up and see four hypes with the victim’s hood up and they’re trying to hot wire the car. Guess they didn’t know the keys were in the bottom of the pool. The hypes don’t see me because I had my police car headlights on. I’m alone except for my less than smart victim who is now ducking down in the back seat. I request a backup.
I hear the sound that all LAPD officers in the 70’s knew. That’s the sound of a 1969 Plymouth engine as it races to your rescue. You can almost feel the earth shake as the four-barrel carburetor opens up with a familiar roar. I can tell it will only be seconds when I’ll have sufficient officers to make four more arrests.
One small problem, that Plymouth that is racing to my rescue is Sergeant Frank, the department mistake I described in an earlier Ramblings. Sergeant Frank sails past the Bowl Motel at 60 MPH and continues up Highland. This can’t get any worse. Two long minutes later another black and white police car pulls in behind me. It’s a good thing the car thieves were all hypes and loaded. We arrested all four and now we’re running low on hand cuffs.
We now have five arrestee’s, two separate arrest reports, two crime reports and an evidence report. Two of our arrestee’s have open oozing wounds from abusing drugs and will need MT (medical treatment) downtown. I’m guessing that we’ll finish up all the arrestee booking and reports by about three P.M.
Swell, this my only day off this week. By the way, it was fun watching the victim trying to fish his car keys out of the bottom of the pool!
Sergeant Frank is still at the Hollywood Bowl looking a police car.
Hal
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Moving Day
Hal Collier’s Ramblings can be found on my website under “Just the Facts, Ma’am.”
I’m trying to consolidate my blog and website. Given that I’m not a techno-whiz, it’s a bit cumbersome. Starting today, my “Just the Facts, Ma’am” blog has moved to my website, www.thoniehevron.com. Just click on the link and you should find this move relatively painless. I’m trying to get any glitches ironed out ASAP.
Thanks for your patience!
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Ramblings, Fun With Sergeants
By Hal Collier, LAPD Retired
We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.
I thought I’d give you a lighter side of police work with a few short stories.
In the early 70’s we had a sergeant, Roger Belding, who was a poster child for the department recruitment posters. He was fit, young and had his hair combed back in a ducktail, just like the teeny boppers in the movies. Thus he earned the nick name “Teen Angel.” That nick name turned out to be a curse from hell.
Teen Angel was a good supervisor, but somewhere down the line he irritated a couple of cops. No, I wasn’t one of them, but I enjoy a good joke as much as the next cop. In the mid 70’s, our radio system was just a little better than a can and a string. If you were in your police car and you talked into the microphone, the whole division heard what you were saying. The problem was no one knew who was talking.
These cops would bring a cassette player to work. They would wait until “Teen Angel” was not busy, key the mike, and play the song “Teen Angel.” This went on for days. One night, Sergeant Belding was eating at the Copper Penny restaurant when the waitress told Belding that he had a phone call at the cash register. Belding answered the phone and you guessed it, “Teen Angel.” That’s just not right—messing with a guy’s meal time.
Another time Belding was in the Watch Commanders office when “Teen Angel” came over the air. Belding slammed his fist down on the desk and declared, “I know it’s Jack Myers.” Jack walked into the Watch Commanders office and asked Belding, “Did you want me?” You could see the veins on Belding’s neck stick out.
Belding made it a personal goal to find the officers responsible. He would stop the suspected officers and search their car. He never found anything. I later found out that the involved officers were hiding the cassette and tape player in a call box on the Glendale/LA border near Travel Town.
During this period of tom foolery they would also play a rooster crowing, a lion roaring and the song Ooga Chucka. Belding’s efforts to stop this was futile. The Watch Lieutenant stepped up and said in roll call, “If this continues, we will have a stand up inspection every night.”
“Teen Angel” can now only be heard on oldies radio stations.