Just the Facts, Ma’am and Hall Collier’s Ramblings will be on hiatus until Sunday, September 6th.
If you’re getting lonely, visit Just the Facts archives for lots of laughs, tears, and even thought-provoking stories.
–Thonie
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Tag: Hal Collier
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A Commentary from a Friend
By Joe Mariani, a retired Marin and Sonoma County teacher and administrator
re-posted from Facebook, with permission
First of all, I love to read your Hal Collier stories.
But what sad news last night!
As a school administrator for SRCS [Santa Rosa City Schools] I regularly worked with the SRPD [Santa Rosa Police Department] & SO [Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office] and Probation. Several years before I retired in ’99 and then for the following decade when I was an on-call substitute administrator at all of the secondary schools in SRCS, we finally got 5 campus based PD officers who would split their time between our five high schools and their five feeder middle schools. As a building administrator I also attended the monthly Sonoma County gang- related meetings with the the same three groups at the SRPD main, where we would discuss the previous month’s gang activities & share intelligence.
Most regular citizens don’t have a clue about the dangerous and hard job that police & sheriff officers face every day, and how much we rely on them for our safety.
Also, it was always so great to see the paramedics & fire truck roll up – please no code 3! – when we had a badly injured or really sick student down. I go crazy when I see all if the bad press that today’s cops are getting, when I know from personal experience that all of the people who I worked with were good guys & ladies. And I also know that there is a “rest of the story” about the people who cops deal with every day/night that usually gets glossed over in the news. I dealt with middle & high school kids, non-students coming on campus, and adults for over 3 decades in a zillion “rest of the story” situations. It was so great to call or finally have a designated police officer to help with my 1056 [suicide/attempt], 415 [peace disturbance- can be a domestic or dog barking and everything in between], 242 [battery], H&W [Health and Welfare Code-known also as Welfare and Institutions Code-violation usually pertains to laws specifically to protect children’s welfare] , & even occasional 245 [assault with a deadly weapon], et al!
So my heart & prayers also go out to one more member of our “thin blue line, his Department, and his family.
By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired
Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.
Another short story and then a story about a Hollywood Character. The “character” will be known to only some of the Hollywood cops of the 70’s, but it will give you an insight of the way foot beat cops functioned in the old days.
I worked AM’s for fourteen straight years and often worked out after work. After my work out, I would shower at the station, use the city’s water, and save myself some money. I would put on clean clothes, drive home, and go to bed.
One day, I finish my work out and take a shower. After toweling off, I try to put on my underwear. They won’t go up past my knees. These underwear belong to my son. I grabbed the wrong pair from the laundry basket. Bob, my son, was about six and we both wore white Penny’s underwear. Ok no problem, I’ll drive home commando (that means no underwear). I place Bob’s underwear in my jean pants pocket and drive out the station parking lot. I’m half way home when I see a police car behind me. It dawns on me, I have a small boy’s underwear in my pants pocket, and I’m not wearing any. Working Hollywood I know that spells pervert. I obey all the laws and make it home. I go through my underwear drawer and check all the tags.
It was easier when Bob wore colored Superman underwear.
Hollywood Character: Bill Conkey
Bill (and I’m guessing on the spelling of his last name) was a Hollywood Boulevard fixture. I saw Bill walking, or better described as limping along Hollywood Blvd during the 70’s and into the 80’s. I knew that Bill was begging but I never got any complaints. Bill was a friend of the foot beat cops. Some nights I’d see Bill asleep on a bus bench and other times I saw him eating food from a trash can. I was told that Bill was a lawyer who lost his family in a house fire and went kind of crazy. I asked J.J. (a foot beat legend) about Bill and this is what he told me. I believe J.J.’s version, after all, he knew Bill better than I did.
Bill worked at a vegetable stand on Hollywood Boulevard in the 40-50’s. He also lived in the back room. Bill was drafted and served in the Korean War. There’s some question on whether Bill was a bit slow before or after his service in Korea. When the vegetable stand closed, (it’s probably a souvenir shop now) Bill became homeless and a panhandler on Hollywood Boulevard.
During the good old days, foot beat officers ran the Boulevard. They knew all the store owners, the beggars and the trouble makers. The foot beat cops advised the trouble makers of the “Boulevard Rules.” They complied or left Hollywood. Bumper Morgan, a Joseph Wambaugh character, was based on old foot beat cops. These kind of foot beat cops have gone the way of the dinosaurs.
J.J. told me this story:
He was walking his foot beat and a police car stopped and this officer walked up to J.J. The officer said that when he was working undercover, J.J. advised him of the Boulevard rules in an aggressive manner in front of a bunch of dope dealers. The officer now thanked J.J. and said he never had any trouble buying drugs after that.
Contrary to what you saw in the movie, “Pretty Woman” prostitutes were not allowed to work on Hollywood Boulevard. They were sent to Sunset Boulevard—”Boulevard Rules.”
Bill was never a problem and the foot beat officers would buy him meals and clothes. When Bill’s health deteriorated, the foot beat officers would ask Bill, “Are you ready?” If Bill wasn’t ready to go to jail he would answer, “No.” If Bill said “Yes,” he was arrested for begging. Bill would spend the next week or so in jail. He would get cleaned up, fed well, and given clean clothes. Bill was sometimes taken to the Veterans Hospital and treated for his ailments.
I could always tell when Bill had been to the hospital. He had new shoes, walked upright, and had a fresh haircut. A month later Bill would be shuffling along the Boulevard begging for change. Bill, like Tilly, just disappeared.
I walked a Hollywood Boulevard foot beat for almost three years. I still think it was the best job I ever had. Today’s Hollywood foot beats ride bikes or drive around in cars. They don’t know the shop owners, or the characters who made walking the foot beat fun and rewarding. The “Boulevard Rules” have disappeared and it’s kind of sad. The Hollywood Foot beat legends are gone but not forgotten thanks to officers like Gene Fogerty, Jim Conrad, Frank Hintz, Dan Lewis, and J.J. Brown. There were lots of foot beat officers but these few set the standard in the old days.
By Hal Collier
I’ll bet that all the non-police that read this Ramblings never gave much thought to what it takes to drive a police car. Trust me, it’s more than leaving the police station and driving to the local donut shop. Most cops can relate to what I’m about to say. Let’s talk about checking out your police car before starting your shift. I’ve found a half-eaten chilidog under the front seat; it would have made a great junior high science project after being there for three days. I once found a WWII hand grenade on my front seat, left by officers of the previous shift. You have to make sure that any dented fenders were reported or you get the blame and maybe days off without pay.
Ok, you hit the streets. You’re looking for trouble. Take for example a simple traffic ticket. Say the driver is late for work and trying to make up a few minutes. He runs that red light by just by a second or two. The cop who sees the driver run that red light will commit three traffic violations just to catch him and give him a ticket. Even worse, he gets the lecture on how dangerous your driving was. Hint: don’t use that as an excuse in traffic court. Judges will still find you guilty! By the way, did you thank that cop for risking his life to give you that ticket? I didn’t think so and his parents probably are married.
Here’s an oxymoron for you. An officer gives you a ticket for talking or texting on your cell phone while driving. Look in his car and you’ll see a computer sitting next to the driver’s seat. I learned to drive, type and read messages all while driving on Hollywood streets. Quite a few officers have run into parked cars while driving and typing. By the way, some cops get days off, without pay, for traffic accidents that were their fault.
Another hazard is patrol! Yea, you’re driving around and looking for that arrest that will make your captain forget you missed court last month. You see an individual you think is wanted. You turn to look at him and don’t see that traffic in front of you has stopped. I had two of those in my career! At least I wasn’t looking at some underdressed woman when I rear-ended a car, honest.
Ok, let’s get down to real police driving-getting there in a hurry. I’m talking, the adrenaline pumping, heart in your throat; did I bring another pair of underwear? It’s not always a high-speed pursuit as depicted on TV.
One night I was driving a 1969 Plymouth—the finest police car ever made. My longtime friend Jim Moody was the passenger. A “shots fired” call came out on the very east end of the division. I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard—ok, I was speeding. We wanted to be first on scene. A car pulls out from a side street in front of me. No problem, I’ll turn the steering wheel to the right and tap the brakes, just as I was taught in driving school. Next thing I know the ass end of my police car is in front of my engine. Our police cruiser stops with the rear bumper ten feet from a closed bar. I look at Moody; his knuckles are white as he grips the dash. Our car has stalled, I think the car is amazed that we didn’t hit anything. I finally get it started and arrive last at the call. No shots fired. I learned a lesson that night.
Another time I was racing to a call on La Cienega. I was driving south from Sunset, traffic was light, and I’m sailing along. La Ciengega crosses Santa Monica—big deal, right? La Cienega is a very steep hill and levels off as it crosses Santa Monica then drops down again. That’s right my police car becomes airborne. If the tires are off the ground, the steering wheel and brakes are worthless. Again, I learned a valuable lesson—slow down and live to see retirement.
Next I’ll talk about pursuit driving, code 3 driving, and driving during buy/bust operations? Hal
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Ramblings: Jury Duty, part 2
Jury Duty
part 2
By Hal Collier
Howdy,
Last week, I wrote about my first day of jury duty. A short recap is I sat in the assembly room for 7 1/2 hours and then was told to report to Department 108 the following week. It was going to be a 30 day trial–that’s 6 weeks in real time. The only excuses were financial hardship (my pension disqualifies me from that), medical impairment or hardship (I think my twitch is back), or caring for small children or an elderly parent. Now I do take care of grandchildren 1 or 2 days a week, but that’s because I like to spend time with them.
I’m screwed.
I asked for advice from former cops that have experienced getting out of jury duty. Some of the responses I received were helpful, some would only find me in contempt of court. A few samples: Tell the defense that your experience in law enforcement will prejudice you toward the prosecution. That should work. Another advises to tell them your dog is pregnant and you don’t know who the father is. That sounds like a few hours in the holding tank. I received advice from 3 different states. My sister, always the positive one, remarked that the jury duty experience would supply me with more stories to share. I think I would rather exchange stories with RJ about his putting pennies in a bag of water over a door to keep out flies. Another friend suggested that I denounce my citizenship. He said in his county they are only expected to call in one day. A former cop had the best answer. Explain the many reviews that go into a filing and the prosecution of the dirt bag. In laymen terms that’s means if it goes this far—he is guilty.
I spent many nights lying awake, rehearsing my story. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing my civic duty, but after 35 years of being a cop I figure I’ve done my share. 6 weeks sitting in a room listening to liberal lawyers trying to confuse a jury is not my idea of retirement.
The big day comes, I’m prepared. I’m nervous, just like before taking an oral interview for promotion. I have to be in court at 1:30. I drive downtown early and arrive at 1:00 P.M. I walk the 1/4 mile down Bunker Hill to get to the court house. There is a long line to get through the metal detectors. I get in line and see a Hollywood officer I used to supervise. He is in the short “officer only” line. Another reminder, I’m GP—general public. I remove everything from my pockets and step through the metal detector. I’m advised that I have a handcuff key on my key ring and have to turn it in to the sheriff’s deputy. Now, I have authority to carry my handgun, a fully loaded 9 mm semi-automatic, but there I am, turning in my hand cuff key.
I arrive on the 9th floor which is packed, mostly jurors, like myself. Another metal detector, I’m clean. I find a seat on the bench and wait. I see two former Hollywood detectives get off the elevator. I say “hi” but they ignore me at first. I forgot, I’m wearing my “Jury” badge. Again, I’m GP. No one is supposed to talk to jurors. They are in a different court room. Damn, I was hoping for a conflict to get excused. I see a gentlemen walking down the hall, he looks familiar. He looks at me and there is a look of recognition. I believe I have arrested him some time but can’t place his face. He enters another court.
My court clerk comes out and calls roll. Only one juror is absent. I’m amazed, because my group has 58 potential jurors. After 30 minutes we’re herded into the court room and seated. I recognize the judge, I think I testified before him just before I retired, maybe another conflict. The judge explains that the trial will last 6 weeks, possibly ending just before Christmas. It’s a murder trial, with special circumstances, that means death penalty. We are then given a 15 page questionnaire and sent back out into the hall. Each question has sub-questions. If you answer yes, explain, same for no answers. They want to know my views on the death penalty, illegal Immigrants, drug dealers, gun ownership, well—you get the picture. I could do a whole page on “would you give more weight to a police officer’s testimony?”. I’m worried my pen might run out of ink. The witness list has more names then the USC football roster. I recognize a few LAPD officers, maybe another conflict. Okay, I really don’t want to spend 6 weeks hiking up and down Bunker Hill.
We turn in our questionnaires and are ordered back in one week. Swell, another week of waking up in the middle of the night rehearsing my reasons for being excused. I’m seriously thinking of using the pregnant dog excuse. If I’m in lock-up I won’t be on the jury. I might even be taken off the jury summons mailing list.
D-Day I think I’m finally going to get excused, I sail right through both metal detectors, I’m become a pro. I find a seat in the hall and wait. I’m listening to jurors from another court case, they’re on day 15—yikes. I see the two defense attorneys enter the courtroom, they have California Berkeley written all over them. The court bailiff comes out into the hall and states, “Raise your hand if you’re a juror in Department 108”. Ok this it, time to give your well prepared excuse. The deputy states, “The court has successfully picked a jury and you are all excused.” First there was silence, then some applause, then a dash for the elevators. I’m guessing they had 2 jury pools, one in the morning and my group in the afternoon. No complaints. I’m good for at least a year and then we’ll start all over again.
I’d like to thank everyone who replied with advice. I’m not going to have to denounce my citizenship, sit in the lock-up with someone who is blowing me kisses, and have my dog checked for a due date.
I can just go back to being GP.
Hal
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Ramblings by Hal
A re-run from May 26th, 2013
This is the first of many Hal Collier’s Ramblings. We’ve been posting every week since this date. We have many more original posts in the wings, but due to a (positive) live event, I haven’t had time to get Hal’s Ramblings ready. So here’s a re-run. Love the tone and sentiment of this work. Consider this as amends for not posting his regular column yesterday. Remember, to read past posts, go to Archive on the bottom right of the page, click on “Ramblings” and peruse all of the LAPD gems!
–Thonie
Welcome Hal Collier!
A big welcome to Hal–our new blogger. Hal spent over 3 decades in LAPD mostly Hollywood Division, so he has the creds. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, maybe both. These are reminiscences of a beat cop. Writers can learn and readers will be entertained. The best of both worlds.
This picture reminded me of an incident that happened in Hollywood. I’m working patrol and one of my problem area’s was Delongpre Park. It was just 3 short blocks from the police station but often was a haven for drug dealers and the large Hollywood homeless population.
Delongpre Park was only a block wide and a block deep, 1 bathroom and a small kids play area. A few benches but no tables or BBQ pits like bigger parks.
I was on patrol and noticed a large group of homeless men in the park. I drove up the wheel chair ramp on the side walk as usual and drove into the park. The homeless were all huddled around a shopping cart laying on it’s side. (see photo.) In the shopping cart they had charcoal briquettes, just turning to a nice hot grey color. They were ready to cook.
I get out of my car and walked up to the group. The spokesman of the group, I’m guessing the one without warrants, approaches me. “Officer, please don’t ruin our BBQ!”
He tells me they all pooled their begging money, bought some charcoal and hot dogs and were having an old time BBQ. I noticed the usual brown paper bags wrapped around a 40 oz bottle of beer, but what the heck hot dogs go better with a cold beer. The park was empty of children and dispelling the rumor that my heart was smaller than my badge, I advised the troop leader to make sure to clean up after you leave or I’ll be looking for you in the morning.
The next morning, even before my coffee, I checked Delongpre Park. The park was spotless, even the shopping cart was gone. It had to make me smile.
Hal