Categories
Writer's Notes

July’s Writer’s Notes: Critique Groups

By Force or Fear, Intent to Hold, and With Malice Aforethought

meeting-1219540_960_720By Thonie Hevron

 

A tightrope

Critique group partners walk a tightrope. You’re charged to be honest on one end—to expose errors and inconsistencies. On the other, you must allow for the writer’s style. Having basic rules to guide can help in this mission. Actually, rules are vital. They should foster writing skills and creativity. Knowing when to say what are crucial when you’re giving feedback on another author’s work. You want to suggest points that will encourage imaginative changes, not stifle another’s storytelling.

 

Where would I be without my critique group?

Back in 2009, my goal was to finish my first book. I’d (artistically) wandered with it since 1997 or so. I needed something to help push me through my obstacles. That year, I found Redwood Writers (aka RW, a chapter of the California Writers Club, founded by Jack London). RW came to my rescue with craft workshops, speakers on goal setting, and classes to develop a platform/social media. Then, at a monthly meeting, someone announced they were starting up a mystery/suspense/thriller critique group.

Now, I wasn’t all that excited about critique groups in general as I’d had a bad experience in ’97 with an open genre group. (Imagine poets critiquing a police procedural. It wasn’t pretty.) But a gathering of same genre writers might be what I needed. Under the guidance of an experienced writing teacher, we began what we call, “Thrillerz” with 4-5 authors. Our first meeting was to establish ground rules: where, how often and when do we meet? What is the standard submission? Behavior rules were basic (no punching out your critiquer) but clear. We decided what we were going to look at: line edits, content, all the above.

 

What Thrillerz has done for me?

Over the years, the faces have changed—except for Billie Payton-Settles. She and I are original members. On July 20th, you’ll be hearing how Thrillerz keeps her writing. Right now, I believe Thrillerz has the perfect blend of authors. Our sub-genres vary but we all speak the same language. We listen to each other, taking or discarding criticisms as each feel will work for their piece. We never argue. And, contrary to some writing experts, we do offer suggestions to each other—thankfully! I say this because of every set of pages I submit, I get great ideas back. Sometimes, the story has taken off in different direction because of their ideas. They’ve made me a better writer and a better critiquer. I hope I provide them with positive possibilities for their works as they do for me. Another huge benefit for being in a critique group is that I keep writing. I work because I must turn in pages. Sometimes, it’s the only reason to get a word down.

 

Some references for rules

Crit bookIn this post from Writers’ Digest (January 2010), Jane Friedman discussed a book by a colleague, The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide by Becky Levine. Her summary sounds terrific, but I haven’t read it, so I can’t recommend it.

There isn’t that much information out there about critique groups. This could be for a variety of reasons: Groups are outgrown as an author rises the ladder of success. And each group must set their own rules. In doing research for this post, I found an article by an expert who offered 9 mistakes that make you look like an amateur. Five of her “mistakes” were regular practice in our group.

No grammar corrections? Tell the retired teacher not to.

Next week, mystery author Mary Feliz offers “Critiquing for Success” on July 13th and Deborah Taylor-French on July 27th. Join us on Writer’s Notes every Friday and Just the Facts, Ma’am every Sunday.

~~~

Conference picThonie Hevron, a retired 911 dispatcher, resides in Northern California. Her work has appeared in Beyond Borders: 2014 Redwood Writers Anthology and Felons, Flames and Ambulance Rides: Public Safety Writers 2013 Anthology. She is the author of three mystery novels, By Force or Fear, Intent to Hold and With Malice Aforethought, currently available on Amazon but will be re-published by Aakenbaaken & Kent in 2018. Her fourth mystery/thriller, Felon with a Firearm is forthcoming in late 2018.

~~~

Malice coverWITH MALICE AFORETHOUGHT: What if you’re a deputy investigating a homicide in an isolated countryside and you discover a sinister paramilitary group gearing up for an assault very soon? What if your sergeant is your former partner who keeps you at a distance? And don’t bother calling for back up because there’s no radio communications in the remote Northern California hills.

What do you do?

To purchase With Malice Aforethought, click here

Categories
Roll Call

Roll Call: Short Dog-Probation in Rampart ’73-’74

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

Probation in Rampart ’73-’74

 

roll call West Midlands Police
West Midlands Police, UK

 

Back in the day, there were no holds barred when it came to messing with rookies—NONE.  Of course, I fell victim early on.

 

One shift, I had court all day and made it back to the station just in time to get ready for PM Watch roll call.  I opened my locker up and stripped down for a shower. I must have been in the shower for maybe 8 minutes—TOPS! After drying off, I returned to my locker to find my uniforms GONE. Yup, GOA (Gone On Arrival-an often used disposition the reason for the call was not present when the officer arrived-Thonie)!

The senior guys were getting ready. They said nothing; the other rookies dare not say anything. Didn’t want to sound like a baby so, I said nothing. The guys began exiting the locker room for roll call and I stood there, thinking. I wasn’t going to be late for roll call, so I started eyeballing my civilian clothes when my military training kicked in.

“Overcome and conquer.” Whatever, so I made my moves. All the “rooks” had to sit in the front of roll call and the senior guys in the back. Our PM watch commander and supervisors entered the room and the lieutenant took his place at his desk, at the head of the room, facing us.

He started calling the roll and our assignments when the snickering and muffled laughs became overwhelming. He looked up and began scanning the room when his eyes hit the front row left, last seat, against the wall. His eyes bugged out of his head.

Yellow raincoatHe was looking at the rookie wearing his cover, his yellow rain coat and boots and his Sam Browne waist level outside of the rain coat.

He bellowed, “Diaz, what the hell are you doing, son?”

Now the laughter was overwhelming, and I had to wait to answer until the noise settled down. “Misplaced my uniforms sir, returned from the shower to my opened locker and found that I had misplaced them, sir.”

“G-D D—N it! Whoever find’s Diaz’ uniforms gets an early EOW, (end of watch).”

I heard scuffling in the back of the room and then voices yelled out, “We found where Diaz misplaced his uniforms, lieutenant!”

I think I saw a slight twinkle in the lieutenant’s eyes when he made his declaration.

The rest of the night was uneventful.

 

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writers Clubs: Finding Help Along my Writing Path

 

P Jager Wild Deadwood Tales anthologyBy Paty Jager

I began my adventure of writing when my children were young. That means over thirty years ago, I started the search to find like-minded people. My first couple of attempts at connecting with other writers weren’t very promising.

There was a local writing group I found out about, but they were mostly poets and I wanted to write fiction. We weren’t a very good match. Then I found out about an event called Fishtrap that happens every year in the county in Oregon where I grew up. I attended one year when I had written a historical western romance after having read LaVyrle Spencer and thinking I could write stories like that.  The workshop I signed up for had a New York Editor allowing you to read your work to her and she’d give feedback. She started on one side of her allowing each person to read a page of their work. I was struck by how different the stories were and how some resonated and while others didn’t make any sense to me, yet she praised them all. Then it was my turn. I started reading and everyone visibly leaned away from me. The editor stopped me and asked if I’d heard of RWA- Romance Writers of America. I hadn’t. She told me to see her after the workshop. I had read a genre book in a literary workshop!

I was ecstatic with the information she gave me. I went home, joined RWA, and received their magazine which told me about conferences all over the U.S.! I was elated to see there was one in Seattle, only 5 hours from where I lived. I went, and it was like walking into a room full of mes. 😉 I had finally found people who thought the way I did, with characters in their heads, and who were either published or working at it, like I was. I had found nirvana!  And I discovered there were two chapters only 2 ½ hours from where I lived.

The Salem chapter was the perfect fit for me. Easy to find, friendly people, and a small group. I drove the 2 ½ hours once a month for close to 10 years. I found the meetings helpful and enlightening. There were all day Saturday workshops I attended, and I continued to go to the Seattle conference every other year to learn more on the craft, publishing, and the business of writing. After 7 years and the same amount of books written, I became published with a small press in historical western romance.

While being part of RWA, I was a chapter vice president and president. I also joined a local writing guild becoming their program chair and bringing in more presentations like I’d come to love at the RWA meetings on craft and the business side of writing.

Now there are so many online groups you can join that it’s hard to know where to start. I have since left RWA because my heart is really in writing mysteries. It was from the start, but I couldn’t find a group to help me hone the craft of writing in the genre I loved. Now I belong to Sisters in Crime an online national group that is an off-shoot of RWA, ALLI- Alliance of Independent Authors, Indie Authors, and Mark Dawson’s Self Publishing Formula group. While I am still working on craft, I now need more knowledge on marketing and publishing since taking the Indie Author plunge in 2011.

I also couldn’t write and stay sane without the friendship of a group of ladies I met either through RWA or the writer’s guild. We meet once a month for a potluck lunch and discuss where we are at in our careers and projects and talk about what we’ve each heard in the writing world. I’m also a member of an Author’s Co-operative.  We are all Indie Authors who have a community website and sell our books from the website and support one another with promotion, kudos, and pick-me-ups.  While I tend to be an introvert, I’ve come to rely heavily on these last two groups. They are the people who have my back and I have theirs.

I would have to say, I can’t think of a better writing path than the one I’ve had and continue to follow.

Paty

P Jager Wild Deadwood Tales anthologyWILD DEADWOOD TALES Anthology

Rodeos and romance, Old West adventure, and even a few ghostly tales. Deadwood’s wild past and exciting present come alive in seventeen original short stories written by USA Today and Amazon bestselling authors to benefit the Western Sports Foundation. Contributing authors: E.E. Elisabeth Burke, Zoe Blake, Paty Norman Jager, Teresa Keefer, Megan Kelly, Sylvia McDaniel, Amanda McIntyre, Peggy McKenzie, Angi Morgan, Nancy Naigle, Jacqui Nelson, Terri Osburn, Ginger Ring, Maggie Ryan, Lizbeth Selvig, Tina Susedik and A.C. Wilson

Proceeds from this limited edition collection go to benefit the Western Sports Foundation, an organization providing critical assistance to athletes competing in Western lifestyle sports. Whether they need help recuperating from an injury or planning for the future, WSF is there for them.

universal Link https://www.books2read.com/WDTales

 

2017 headshot new
Paty Jager

Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 32 novels, 6 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery and western romance. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.

blog / website /  Facebook / Paty’s Posse / Goodreads / Twitter / Pinterest   / Bookbub

 

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Baldwin Hills Dam 1963

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

In 1947 the L.A. Department of Water and Power began construction on an earthen filled dam in Baldwin Hills. The location was in a low set of hills south and west of downtown L.A. surrounded by residential neighborhoods.

There was debate at the time as work proceeded, since they were building on an active earthquake fault line. Against expert advice and despite all concerns the project was completed, and the reservoir filled by 1951.

All went without incident until approximately 11:30 AM on Saturday morning December 14, 1963. A routine daily inspection disclosed a small leak near the base of the dam, increasing in size by the hour. The Department tried to stem the flow without success. Realizing it would take 24 hours to drain the lake, LAPD was immediately contacted, and an evacuation plan put into play. This was a Saturday and a lot of people would be at home instead of work. It was estimated 1600 people were in harm’s way.

Motor officers from all over the city were summoned as well as all available black and whites. Evacuations began at 1:30 PM.

Metro Division was alerted but could not be on the scene for several hours.

About 3:30 PM on that cold December day the unthinkable happened. At the point of the leak a large “V” shaped fissure appeared. An estimated 250-300 million gallons of water was released to flow northward through residential neighborhoods roughly bounded on the west by La Cienega, east by LaBrea and Jefferson on the North. 

The area was roughly several hundred blocks square. TV station KTLA had a helicopter up at the time of the breach and it is believed to be the first aerial coverage of its kind. It can be viewed on Google. 

The wall of water estimated at 50 feet high by several hundred feet across destroyed or damaged 277 homes in a matter of minutes. Five lives were lost along with 29 LAPD motorcycles as officers had to scramble to rooftops to escape, many to be rescued by LAFD helicopters.  It took an estimated 77 minutes to completely empty the lake. 

As a sergeant working Metro, we were on scene by late afternoon. The evacuations were a great success thanks to quick work by LAPD. 

Unfortunately, due to licensing issues, I cannot post photos of this horrific incident. For pictures, google “Baldwin Hills Dam disaster.” 

We were to be there for the better part of a week, twelve hour shifts to prevent looting and provide whatever assistance we could. 

If the Bel Aire fire 25 months prior had seemed a barren moon scape this was something beyond description.

I spent the entire week on the night watch. 6 PM to 6 AM. Always dark, always cold, always windy, and always damp. as I remember it. Lifeless everywhere you looked. Houses with no roofs, roofs with no houses. I remember a living room couch in a tree, a kitchen table and clothing in others.

As the water sought lower levels, it pushed cars ahead of it, sometimes leaving them stacked 3-4 high like children’s toys. 

The coroner had parked a refrigerated truck at the University police station but there were only five fatalities.

The cold and wetness seemed to accentuate the smell of death that hung in the air. So many dead pets and the occasional found body. A lot of the streets were not drivable, so we worked the perimeter. Within the flooded area were fixed posts, cold and desolate, most with trash can fires to keep warm. It was a scene from another time, another place, but where? The silence and sense of aloneness was downright eerie.

Destruction and devastation everywhere. It left a lasting impression on us all.

Many of the residents never returned to rebuild. The reservoir was never rebuilt and is now the site of a park.

 

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writers’ Clubs: Why We Need Them

The Importance of Community OR Why We Need Writer’s Clubs
By Leeann Betts

I thought I could do this on my own.

Seriously. I envisioned sitting at my desk, pecking away at the keyboard for hours a day, producing the next Great American Novel. No editing needed. I don’t know how I thought they’d be published—just that some elusive publisher would snatch up every book I wrote and run with it. Oh yes, besides writing, I’d go to the post office box and collect my royalty checks.

The life of a writer 

Not.

I wrote my first novel in 2002, and before I even got to the end of it, I realized that I didn’t know whodunit or why. I went to the library and checked out some books on writing a novel, writing a mystery, and crafting a bestselling novel. Devoured those books. Learned a lot. Finished that first novel and—according to the books I read—I revised and polished and sent it out.

And got rejected. Over and over again. “Not a fit”: means they already have enough badly-written mysteries. “Compelling premise”: means they like the idea but the book didn’t deliver. “Perhaps you should attend a writing conference and join a critique group”—aha! the first piece of useful information.

But I didn’t know about critique groups. I mean, who wants to be criticized? I went to the first conference I could find in my area and learned about critique groups from attendees. I joined an online critique group through a national organization I also joined as a result of that conference, and received invaluable information. I joined a couple of smaller, local writers groups and went to their critique groups. Once, when I traveled out of town, I even attended a critique group in another city just to see how they operated.

I learned a lot from my membership in both the national organization, the local chapter, and the critique groups I took part in. If you’re struggling with why you should join, or if you should renew, here are some things to consider:

1. You can’t do this alone. Sure, you can try, but there is simply too much information out there to be able to pick and choose what you need to know.
2. You shouldn’t do this alone. You might have something to encourage somebody else or steer them in the right direction.
3. You need a shoulder to cry on. Or somebody else might need one. When the rejections get nasty. When the revisions get messy. When the stories get old. Or the muse doesn’t show up and you have a deadline.
4. You are more than a writer. As an author, you also need to be a cover designer, a typesetter, a copywriter, a marketing specialist, an accountant—and if you aren’t, community helps.
5. Membership will help you grow. As a person, as an author, as a businessperson. Joining a writer’s group will get you involved doing things you might not want to do, like serving on a board, or organizing an event, or getting on social media.
6. Connecting with other writers will pay off. I made contacts for book deals at several conferences, and heard about a publisher who was looking for a specific kind of story at a local writers meeting.

The dollars I pay each year for membership in groups pales in comparison with the value I receive. I’m a member of several writer’s clubs, because they each offer something different in terms of community, expertise, and activities. I couldn’t do what I do without them—and honestly, although I’m in introvert and meeting with large groups of people is sometimes awkward and uncomfortable—I push myself to step out. I never know where my next contract or friend will show up.

aaaLeeann Betts_02 croppedAbout Leeann:
Leeann Betts writes contemporary suspense, while her real-life persona, Donna Schlachter, pens historical suspense. She has released seven titles in her cozy mystery series, By the Numbers, with number 8, A Deadly Dissolution, releasing in June. In addition, Leeann has written a devotional for accountants, bookkeepers, and financial folk, Counting the Days, and with her real-life persona, Donna Schlachter, has published two books on writing, Nuggets of Writing Gold and More Nuggets of Writing Gold, a compilation of essays, articles, and exercises on the craft. She publishes a free quarterly newsletter that includes a book review and articles on writing and books of interest to readers and writers. You can subscribe at http://www.LeeannBetts.com or follow Leeann at http://www.AllBettsAreOff.wordpress.com All books are available on Amazon.com in digital and print, and at Smashwords.com in digital format.

Website: http://www.LeeannBetts.com Receive a free ebook just for signing up for our quarterly newsletter.
Blog: http://www.AllBettsAreOff.wordpress.com
Facebook: http://bit.ly/1pQSOqV
Twitter: http://bit.ly/1qmqvB6
Books: Amazon http://amzn.to/2dHfgCE and Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2z5ecP8

A Deadly Dissolution coverAbout A Deadly Dissolution:
The total lunar eclipse of October 2004 leaves more than Bear Cove, Maine, in the dark. The town’s newly-elected mayor, Walter Akerman, hires Carly to audit the town’s books but is then caught in a compromising situation with his secretary Evie Mack. A journalist in town to cover the eclipse turns up dead. Tom and Sarah’s adopted son Bradley comes to stay overnight to see the eclipse, then goes missing on a walk in town. When Mike’s car is in a serious wreck which the police say is an accident, Carly thinks somebody is trying to send her a message to stay away. How can she solve all these mysteries while not completely wearing herself to a frazzle?

 

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Gas Pains

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

Tear Gas: [definition] A solid liquid or gaseous substance that on dispersion in the atmosphere irritates mucous membranes resulting in blinding of the eyes with tears, used chiefly in dispelling mobs.

Okay, so everyone knows what tear gas is right? Well, yes and no. You know what it is but unless you have been subjected to its use, you can never really appreciate the effect it has upon the body. How it removes any desire to continue your present activities.

Three years USMC plus two reserves, LAPD academy, plus five Metro years has given me more than a nodding acquaintance. I heard the lectures, gave the lectures, been gassed, gassed others, watched film and demonstrated its use.

However, I had never seen it used under actual field conditions, until this night.

I was assigned to Metro and was on my way home at end of watch. It was probably somewhere between 0100 and 0200 hours. I lived close to downtown and always tried to use surface streets at that hour. Any morning watch copper can verify that the streets are usually strangely quiet and empty—almost otherworldly—a science fiction movie and you are the last person on earth.

I awakened from my reverie when an overtaking black and white blew by me code three. Seconds later, it was followed by a second, then a minute later, a third.

I stopped, rolling down all the windows to listen. The air was filled with sirens. Something big was going down and I wanted to be there.

Westlake_Shopping_Center_3I caught the last car and followed him to the action. As I got close, I heard sporadic gunfire. The scene was an old-fashioned shopping center. Two blocks of older two-story business buildings, glass storefronts, with second floor living quarters, and flat tar-paper roofs. The street was filled with 12-15 black and whites with officers crouched behind them. The sharp smell of tear gas hung in the air.

I parked about a block away and walked in. No challenge. I am in civvies, so I hang my badge, but didn’t draw even a glance.

The center of attention is a second floor, corner apartment at the far end of the block. A police search light was set up mid-block and focused on the windows fronting the street. The rest of the block was an unreal collection of light and shadow. An expended tear gas canister lay on the sidewalk below the window.

At this point I assumed a barricaded suspect as I was at the wrong end of the block and too far away to get involved. I picked a good spot and settled in to watch.

Behind the light, a sergeant with a bull horn talked to the suspect. Then the suspect suddenly appeared and fired two quick shots at the light. By the time the officers reacted, he was gone but “what the hell.” They volleyed 2-3 rounds each.

Have you ever seen an action movie where a machine gun fires dozens of rounds and strikes a house in slow motion? Amazed, I watched as glass shattered and window sills splintered. I could almost hear the old building moaning.

This scene plays out a few more times with the same results.

I was out of the line of fire when the suspect shot so I wasn’t worried about my safety. Not so the officers. Several are around the corner shooting at the side window and there have been several ricochets.

Tear gas launcherI watched the window screen fall half off, the gutter downspout shot away and a piece of tar paper flutter to the ground. About the time I wonder what could happen next, I hear the deep throated thomp of the teargas gun. The sound was unmistakable as the stubby barrel launched a “flight right” grenade. It looked like a small rocket. As it cleared the barrel, fins snapped into place to stabilize flight. The round was well aimed and went through the window.

We wait. Gas drifts from the window. No suspect.

Two officers with gas masks enter and then returned quickly, holding up four fingers. “Code four,” all over.

in those days, things were done in a more casual manner. This was before SWAT. No one had ever heard of “fire discipline” and officer involved shooting teams were in the future.

As a result, half the cars were gone within five minutes.

I figured I would find out the results when I went to work that night.

I did: twenty-five to thirty officers fired several hundred rounds at the suspect with zero hits.

Then, a sergeant fired one round from a teargas gun. It struck and killed the suspect. Killed by something that looked like a Buck Rogers toy rocket ship.

Go figure.

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writers’ Clubs: Every Writer Needs a Tribe

 

YIM PastedGraphic-6
By Natasha Yim

No writer’s an island. I discovered this when, after the publication of my first children’s book, my editor at Charlesbridge Publishing suggested I join the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI). I had never heard of the organization before, nor had I been a member of any writing group. But I joined because it would make my book eligible for one of the prestigious SCBWI awards.

Although I didn’t win, this off-hand subscription to a writing club led to my current status as an 18 year PAL (Published and Listed) member of the SCBWI—and so, so much more. It led to a tribe — a community of writers with whom I have connected with emotionally and creatively over the years. In that 18 year span, I’ve attended numerous conferences, craft intensives, retreats and gatherings, including the large, annual SCBWI conference in Los Angeles, where I met and had books signed by children’s literary superstars, Richard Peck, Jon Scieszka, Laurie Halse Anderson, and Judy Blume. I’ve received insightful manuscript critiques, and networked with industry professionals (editors, agents, other writers, published and pre-published) who have shared generously of their time and expertise to help me improve my craft, and who have been instrumental in molding me into the writer I am today.

YIM PastedGraphic-5Most of all, what a writing organization like SCBWI has given me is the gift of life-long friendship. These literary friends hail from all over California and beyond, many are in the San Francisco Bay Area, but far enough from my hometown of Ukiah that I might see them once a year at a conference or retreat. But when I do, it’s like I just saw them for coffee the week before—there’s an immediate comfortable familiarity, a shared interest in our work, joy at each other’s successes, empathy for experienced challenges and rejections, and a mutual sense of belonging. After all, the latter is the true mission of the SCBWI, or any writing club.

From its humble beginnings in 1971, when SCBWI was originally founded as the Society of Children’s Book Writers (SCBW) by a group of Los Angeles-based writers, including the group’s President Stephen Mooser and Executive Director Lin Oliver, SCBWI has mushroomed into an international writing organization with over 80 regional chapters and 22,000 members worldwide. In 1991, author/illustrator and SCBW Board Member, Tomie dePaola lobbied to include illustrators and the name was changed to the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. It is currently, the largest non-profit organization for writers and illustrators of juvenile literature.

Apart from the SCBWI conferences, retreats, and regional county events which are offered at very reasonable rates, membership benefits include awards and grants (I won a regional grant to attend the Los Angeles conference in 2011), access to agents and editors (many of whom are closed to unsolicited submissions but will allow submissions from participants at a SCBWI event in which they’re presenting), promotional opportunities, and informational resources. To check out the organization or become a member, please visit: http://www.scbwi.org.

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: The Newhall Incident

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1The 1963 kidnapping of two LAPD plainclothes officers and subsequent murder of one sent shock waves through the department and law enforcement.
This could not happen to US—WE ARE THE BEST OF THE BEST. NOT HERE, NOT NOW, NOT EVER.

But it did, and it shook us to the core.

Seven short years later, four young California Highway Patrol Officers (CHP) lost their lives in a 4 1/2-minute gunfight, 270 seconds, 4 dead.

It came to be known as the “Newhall Incident” or “The Newhall Massacre.”

The officers (partners in first unit): Walter Frago, age 23 and Roger Gore, age 23. In the second unit: James Pence, age 24 and George Alleyn, age 24.

Each of them had less than 2 years on the job. Just recently a stretch of I-5 has been named in their honor.

I write this due to the fact some of you might have been too young to know of it or perhaps you never knew the story. Worse yet, maybe you have forgotten it.

The killers were two hard core ex-cons: Jack Twinning, age 35, graduate of eight different prisons including Alcatraz where he had killed another inmate on parole 11 months. Bobby Davis, age 27, on parole 8 months. They met and allied in prison.

Shortly before midnight, Sunday April 5, 1970 Davis brandished a handgun in a traffic dispute near the Grapevine on I-5. The citizen contacted police and the suspect vehicle was spotted southbound toward L.A.

Frago and Gore follow while Pence and Alleyn waited in nearby Valencia to assist if necessary.

The suspect vehicle exited the freeway on Henry Mayo Drive, entered and stopped in the parking lot of “J’s” restaurant.

Davis exited the driver’s side while Gore approached and prepares to search him.

Frago armed with a shotgun held at port arms, across his chest at a 45-degree angle, covers Gore.

 

THE CONFRONTATION

As Gore prepared to search Davis, Twinning suddenly exited the vehicle on the passenger side. Armed with a handgun, he fired 2 shots at Frago, hitting him twice and killing him. Gore turned has attention to Twinning, drew his revolver and traded shots with him, both missing. Davis now behind Gore pulled his revolver and shot Gore twice in the back, killing him. All of this in the blink of an eye.

Shortly afterwards Pence and Alleyn arrived and there was a furious exchange of gunfire. Twinning was struck in the head by a bullet fragment suffering only superficial injuries. Alleyn was killed, and Pence seriously wounded, when Gary Kness age 31, a former Marine and civilian, enroute to work saw the gunfight. He came to assist the officers. He attempted unsuccessfully to drag Alleyn to safety unaware he was deceased. Then, he armed himself with Alleyn’s revolver and joins the gunfight. Twinning got behind Pence while he was reloading, shot him twice in the head and killed him. A fragment from a round fired by Kress struck Davis in the chest but was ineffective.

 

At this time a third CHP one-man unit arrives and there was a further exchange of fire. Both suspects fled on foot armed with the officers’ weapons.

Twinning takes a hostage but is surrounded by Sherriff’s Deputies. After an all-night standoff he shot and killed himself.

Davis stole a car but was quickly arrested. Convicted of multiple murders he was sentenced to death; later commuted life in prison. He committed suicide in 2009.

This incident as you can imagine caused many changes in training and tactics.

“J’s” coffee shop no longer exists however half a dozen eateries are at that off ramp which leads to Magic Mountain.

Seriously consider taking time to google “Incident or Massacre at Newhall” for a virtual shot by shot account of the gunfight and the heroic actions of these brave young warriors.

I’d like to include photos and the link to this but copyright issues preclude it.

–Thonie

Remember this when you hear people bad-mouthing the police. Thanks also to Gary Kress, the former Marine.

 

Semper Fi and GOD BLESS AMERICA

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writers’ Clubs: Do You Need Them?

By Camille Minichino

DeathTakesPriorityIf there were a JA—Joiners Anonymous—I’d be president. So “Writers Clubs—Do You Need Them?” is a natural blog topic for me.

I’m such a Joiner that my chosen field for my first career was physics—the major you can’t do alone, not since Newton anyway. Whose garage can accommodate something like a 17-mile-long tunnel to house a collider or a 192-beam laser for fusion?

Physicists gather around huge equipment in giant laboratories these days, working as a team. My graduate school mates and I spent long hours together in the same laboratory every day, sharing data, power supplies, and monster-mentor stories. We became close friends and knew each others’ families as well as our own for a few years.

All the while, I’d wanted to be a published writer—something with more popular appeal than my technical papers on the scattering properties of a titanium dioxide crystal. But I couldn’t imagine sitting alone in a room with pen and paper, or keyboard and monitor, pouring out my thoughts and plots, in solitary confinement.

Imagine my delight when I learned that writing—mystery writing especially—was a community endeavor. I discovered not only professional organizations and critique groups, but book Clubs, conferences, internet lists and groups, and blogging colleagues.

Who knew?

I gave up membership in the American Institute of Physics and joined all the Clubs with chapters in my neighborhood: Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, the California Writers Club (with not one, but two chapters in commute distance – heaven for a Joiner!)

For the past 20 years, I’ve enjoyed membership in all of these organizations. I’ve heard speakers that inspired me, taken workshops that sent me in new directions, met some of the most interesting and generous people I could imagine. Sometimes I wish there were one extra Saturday in every month, to accommodate all the meetings that are available to me. I regret when I have to choose between a workshop by screenwriter James Dalessandro and a talk by psychologist-to-cops Ellen Kirschman.

I’ve done my best to be an active Joiner, not just soaking up the benefits of the Clubs. Earlier this century I was President and/or Board Member of all three organizations (Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and California Writers Club) at the same time. OK, a little overreaching, even for a Joiner, but I loved being in the middle of things. Most Joiners do.

Yes, I’m a writer—25 mystery novels in 4 series for starters—so there’s a lot of me-and-my-chair for hours at a time, but I always know I can call or email any number of colleagues or post to my Club groups, if I want to brainstorm a plot point, or discuss a new character I’m developing. With each book, my acknowledgments list gets longer.

The writing community is smart, fun, and generous. I’m glad I found it. I’m sure some writers prefer to go it alone, but I never would have made it.

So, Writers Clubs—who needs them? Me, me, me!

~~~

LKCamille (1) Camille Minichino is a retired physicist turned writer. When her first book, on nuclear waste management, didn’t sell well, she turned to cozy mystery novels and has published 25 of them in 4 different series, with different pen names. She’s also written many short stories and articles. She teaches science at Golden Gate U. in San Francisco and writing workshops around the SF Bay Area. For more on Camille Minichino, visit her website: http://www.minichino.com/

 

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Learning to Detect

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD                                                    June 3, 2018

The year was 1959, the Dodgers playing at the coliseum are about to start a world series. I was newly assigned to Metro Division and on a one-month training loan to Newton Detectives, (nicknamed Shootin’ Newton). My partner, mentor is Sergeant Bill Pinkston (Pinkie). His specialty was Business Burglary. He was an old timer and very good at what he did. 

He never lectured. I just watched, listened and learned. 

In area, Newton is one of the smallest divisions, just South and East of downtown L.A. What it lacks in size it makes up for in crime. The area contained the usual residential and small businesses however the entire East side was warehouses, loading docks and light manufacturing. 

One morning “Pinkie” handed me an evidence report regarding a recovered firearm taken in one of “his” burglaries in 1948. He told me if I wanted to be a detective, I should detect. “Find the owner,” he said, then left to go to court.  

I assumed by now the owner/victim would be gone and I was correct. He had been a broker for a meat packing company and neither he nor the company were any longer there. The new tenants had no information but one of the neighboring business men remembered him. Said he left/retired and moved East. He did recall that he had a son who sold real estate. 

The California State Real Estate Board had only one person with that last name and he was my guy. He remembered his father’s burglary and gave me his number in “Sun City” or whatever. The conversation went something like this:

 

Charter_Arms_BulldogVictim: Hello         

Me: This is Detective Ed Meckle, LAPD. I would like to speak to Mr. “Victim.” 

Victim: Speaking, how can I help you?       

Me: We recovered your gun

Victim: (silence)         

Me: Hello?       

Victim: What gun?         

Me: The one you reported stolen in 1948. 

Victim: You found it?     

Me: Yes Sir, we have been working the case full time for the last 11 years and finally found it. 

Victim: Tell me you are kidding.   

Me: O.K. I’m kidding.

Victim: I thought things like this only happened in the movies. 

I released the gun to the son.

~~~

Pinkie had an interesting habit of jotting down names/DOBs (dates of birth)/and drivers licenses numbers of selected people we talked to during the day. When we went back to the office at end of shift, he would go off to do other paper work while I called R&I to “run” everyone on the list. I called records and identifications division to check them for felony wants or warrants. Usually the list numbered 20-25 people. 

This one evening I told him as follows: 

“Remember the skinny old guy with the eye patch from the flophouse on Central? Well, he is wanted for escaping from a prison train in Texas in 1929. How about that! Want to go pick him up?” 

Pinkie thought for a few seconds. “Let’s get him in the morning.”

At the boarding house the next morning, the landlord said. “I bought this place in 1945 right after the war. He was living here then. When you guys left yesterday you were barely out of sight and he was packed and gone. Damnedest thing—he lived in that one room for who knows how long.”

And like a wisp of smoke from an old fashioned locomotive, he was gone.