Tag: Hollywood Boulevard

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Ramblings: Court 4

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

This is the last installment about criminal court—I think. Sometimes after a nap I remember some incident that I think might be amusing. I had over ten years’ experience in criminal court when this incident occurred. I’d thought I’d seen everything.

I was once working a movie premiere when an Australian film crew asked me, “I’ll bet you have seen everything.” I looked the camera straight in the lens and said “I’ve worked Hollywood long enough to know that I’ll never see everything.” This court case proves me right.

I’m working with Dave Balleweg. Dave was one of those partners that just made police work fun. You couldn’t spend a night working with Dave without having your ribs sore from laughing. I don’t ever remember getting into a fight while working with Dave—he always talked the suspects into jail. I remember one Thanksgiving Day, a speeder called the station after finding out that we were looking for her. She agreed to come to the station where we arrested her. Not bad when they come to you on a holiday to be arrested. Believe it or not she had a turkey in the oven. It was delicious. Ok, I’m just kidding. It was dry.

Dave and I are driving westbound on Selma Avenue approaching Ivar about 3 A.M. We see this guy get out of a Mustang in the parking lot. He crosses the street in front of us wearing a blue “Puma” t-Shirt. He says “Hi Officers.” We’re waiting for the light to change and watch him walk northbound on Ivar. We wonder why he parked in a parking lot a block from Hollywood Boulevard when there’s closer parking spots on the street. Ok, our police instincts have kicked in. He walks up to Hollywood Boulevard and walks west.

We drive into the parking lot. I jump out and look inside his car. The ignition is held together with scotch tape. Crap, the car’s probably stolen. Now we have to find that stranger in the blue Puma t-shirt. We race up to Hollywood Boulevard and can’t find him. Ok, it’s 3 A.M. and not many places are open. Ah, the all night news stand at Hollywood and Cahuenga—they never close.

Sure enough, our suspect is in the porno book section in the back of the news stand. We grab him and now the fun begins. The car isn’t reported stolen. The registered owner lives in the San Fernando Valley. We have a valley cop go to the registered owner’s house. I hope we didn’t disturb the cops nap. The Valley was quiet then. It’s always fun when you knock on some guy’s door and ask, “Do you know where your car is?” He says, “Yea, it’s in my driveway.” Then he looks and screams, “Where’s my car?”

We arrest this Puma shirt guy and wait for our court subpoena. Because the car was stolen in the San Fernando Valley we get a subpoena to Valley court. I haven’t spent much time in court in the valley. Valley Court is where this story gets bizarre.

Dave and I show up in our best suits. Ok, they were our only suits, off the rack from C&R Clothier’s. We check in with the DA. He informs us that the defendant has some additional charges against him. He was on probation for stealing cars and he was not allowed to be south of Mulholland Drive after midnight. Huh. That’s right—every time he stole a car he would drive it to Hollywood. We caught him in a stolen car south of Mulholland. We had never heard of an adult being restricted to the Valley after midnight. Maybe Lindsey Lohan should be restricted to west of the 405 Freeway.

Dave and I are waiting for the judge to take the stand when we see another strange sight. The court reporter, a man in his late 50’s, is spreading paper towels all over his chair. He approaches us and asks if we are the officers testifying. He tells us that he is the last court reporter to take testimony in long hand. He told us that after the attorney asks a question, to wait until he nods to answer. This can’t be happening. He didn’t tell us, but the paper towels were for sweat. During the trial he sweated more than Clinton did denying he had sex with “that” women.

The judge takes the stand and informs the court that the defendant accidentally ruined his blue Puma t-shirt and has nothing to wear in court. Dave jumps up and offers to go to the Army/Navy supply store on the corner and buy the defendant a shirt. The judge agrees and said he’ll pay for the shirt. The judge takes out his wallet and gives us $20.00 cash. We consider going to lunch on the judge but reason prevails. We hustle over to the store and look for a blue Puma t-shirt. No luck, so we buy a shirt and race back to court.

The defendant decides to have his parents bring a suit–I’m guessing it’s his court suit. Can this case get any more bizarre? Just wait. We come back after lunch and I think were ready to go. Dave takes the stand and waits for the court clerk to swear him in. Only problem is that the clerk is not in the court room.

Dave tells the judge, “I can do this,” he raises his right hand and says, “I do solemnly swear, in the case now pending before this court to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
The judge says, “It works for me. Any objections?”
No objections. How many cops who read my stories have seen this or sworn themselves in?

I’m guessing that a perpetual car thief who apparently gets caught a lot would have a good lawyer. The defendant’s lawyer must have been a family friend, or a DUI lawyer because I think I knew more about criminal law then he did. The judge was always admonishing him about proper questioning and court protocol.

I was testifying for the prosecution and told how we found a pair of channel lock pliers in the defendant’s back pocket. The defendant’s lawyer is now on cross examination.
He asks, “Officer, did you notice anything about the teeth on the pliers?”
Ok, I jump on the question, but only after a nod from the court reporter. “Yes, the teeth had a grey metal on them similar to the grey metal on a vehicle ignition.”
Defendant’s lawyer jumps up and yells, “Objection.”

The Judge looks at the defense lawyer and says, and I loved this, “You asked the question. You can’t object to your own question.”
I almost peed my court suit.

Defendant was found guilty. The court reporter sweated through a roll of paper towels, the judge got a t-shirt, defendant probably got more probation and Dave and I got three hours compensation and the memory of the most bizarre court case.
Hal

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Ramblings, Characters, part 4–Boulevard Rules

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

 

Hollywood Blvd 1970's
Hollywood Blvd 1970’s

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.

 

George Kennedy as Bumper Morgan in the 70's police series, "The Blue Knight"
George Kennedy as Bumper Morgan in the 70’s police series, “The Blue Knight”

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.

 

Pretty Woman 1990-Julia Roberts
Pretty Woman 1990-Julia Roberts

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.

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Writer's Notes

More Hollywood Characters, part 2

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

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

This post should have been last week’s. It’s actually Characters #1. Hal gives a little explanation of these stories in his opening paragraph.

–Thonie  

  

The following stories are true and the characters are real. I’ll use their real name or their street name as Hollywood cops knew them. Some of these characters go back to the early 70’s and some only go back a few years. I think there was a waiting list. As soon as one disappeared, the next one at the top of the list took their place. I asked some of my old partners for their input and some background of these characters. This is not my list alone. I’ll describe a Hollywood character after each short story.

 

Mary Hart
Mary Hart

I’ll start out with a short story of one of my off duty jobs. I called it “My Best Job and My Worst Job.”  I worked a lot of off duty jobs, including movie premieres, the Hollywood Bowl, and private parties. Hell, I even worked a Mary Hart wedding and reception. The Hollywood Special Events Coordinator liked me and I don’t think it had anything to do with me mowing his lawn every weekend. Just kidding, but I did get a lot of good jobs.

 

The coordinator asked me if I wanted to work a Grand Re-opening of the Frederick’s on Hollywood Boulevard. Fredrick’s, the sexy lingerie distributor for the world. I said yes but only if I could wash his car. Again, I’m kidding. I show up at Fredrick’s in my best suit—ok it was my only suit. We meet the director of the event. He immediately gives us our paycheck and a Fredrick’s coupon worth $50 dollars. Next, the models show up. They are ten of the most beautiful women I have ever seen—next to my wife, of course.

 

Fredrick's of Hollywood models
Fredrick’s of Hollywood models

I’m thinking this is the best job I have ever worked. I’ve already been paid, these women are gorgeous and I’m going to get to see them in lingerie, some see-through. Please don’t let me have a heart attack. 

 

After four hours, I’m thinking this is the worst job I’ve ever worked. I got money in my pocket I can’t spend, I’m looking at women I can’t have and my feet hurt from standing on the sidewalk after a full shift of patrol. I think I still have the coupon. Terri won’t wear a thong and I’m not wearing leopard underwear with snaps.

 

CHARACTERS:  Crazy Mary

 

This pic is as close as I could find to a crazy old big busted blond lady who wears white.
This pic is as close as I could find to a crazy old big busted blond lady who wears white.

Crazy Mary as she was known to Hollywood cops from the 70’s into the new millennium. Mary was a large breasted blond women who most days could be seen in all white clothing. That is, when Mary chose to wear clothes. Her clothes were always clean and often resembled a toga. I never arrested Mary but I saw her for 3 1/2 decades, usually on Barham Boulevard or Forrest Lawn Drive or in the Hollywood Station holding tank. Mary should have been a volleyball director at a nudist camp. She just hated wearing clothes. Every so often a radio call would be broadcasted of a naked lady with blond hair. Experienced Hollywood cops would mutter, “Crazy Mary.” 

 

If Mary was arrested, she was brought to the station and placed in a holding tank. Mary would immediately take off her clothes and rub her breasts against the glass window. Try clearing out all the cops in the hallway outside the holding tank when Mary is visiting.

 

I once worked with a female probationer whose prior job was a grocery clerk at a supermarket in Studio City. She said that a young box boy from her market was fired for having sex with Mary in a car in the market parking lot. I think he was supposed to be bringing back the shopping carts. I’ll bet that box boy is now a staff officer on some police department.

 

2004 was the last time I saw Mary. She was living in a car on Forrest Lawn Drive near the Warner Brothers gate. She was living with a younger man who drove a motorcycle. Today I Imagine that somewhere Mary, now gray-haired, is standing in line at a bank waiting to cash her Social Security check and yea, she’s wearing all white.

At least for now.

Hal 

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Writer's Notes

Ramblings, Hollywood Characters

 

 

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

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

This story is true and the characters are real. I ran across many memorable characters during my 33+ years working Hollywood. Some of the background comes from other old time Hollywood cops. J.J. Brown worked the Hollywood Boulevard foot beat for years and is a wealth of information. J.J. was a legend in Hollywood and his contribution was invaluable. I’ll start with a short story and then describe a well-known Hollywood character, Tilly.

 

I’m working Day Watch, after fourteen years on A.M.’s, that’s graveyard, for my non-police friends. I would get up at 4 A.M. and drive into Hollywood and workout or go for a 3 1/2 mi. run.

 

arcoOn this particular morning, I noticed I was low on gas in “Old Blue,” as my truck was affectionately known. No problem, I’ll stop at the all-night ARCO gas station at Franklin and Gower to fill up. While pumping gas I was once offered sex for a few dollars by a woman with oozing sores on her face. Gas at that time was $2.00 a gallon and she was asking for five gallons worth. I always had my gun close by and a firm “no” was sufficient to make her go away.

 

I pulled up to the pump and began pumping gas. I heard a shopping cart approaching. A young hype-looking guy is pushing a shopping cart with a large brown paper bag in the cart. He approaches me and asks, “You want to but a stereo?” I look into the open shopping bag and see five car stereos, with the wires dangling. Ok, even a rookie just out from the academy knows these were just ripped out of car dashes. I tell the hype, “No, thank you.” He walks off. I make a note of his description and watch him leave.

 

This story is old and I didn’t have a cell phone. (Hell, I had to be dragged into the technology age. I now have a cell phone but I never turn it on and I don’t even know my cell phone number.)

 

I drive to the station and tell the watch commander about my encounter with the car burglar. He sends two officers out to search for my suspect. I complete my workout, shower, dress, and go to roll call. As I’m walking out the back door to go to work, I run into the officers with my suspect. I look at the suspect and ask, “Want to buy a stereo?” The “oh shit” look on his face was priceless. He admitted to breaking into eight cars and even showed the officers which cars. It could have been a TV episode of stupid criminals. You can’t make up this stuff.

 

Hollywood Characters:  Tilly

 

Any street cop that worked Hollywood in the 70’s and 80’s knew Tilly. Tilly was an original bag lady. She must have been in her 70’s. She wore a 3/4 length coat, day or night, winter or summer and a pair of black 3/4 top men’s work shoes. Tilly pushed around a shopping cart full of her worldly belongings. She didn’t beg but people felt sorry for her and gave her money. Tilly looked like everyone’s grandmother, only dirtier.

 

Sunset Strip
Sunset Strip

During the day Tilly would walk Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards pushing her shopping cart. At night when I was working, Tilly could be found at the “International Hot Dog” stand at Hollywood and McCadden. The “Hot Dog Stand” as it was known to Hollywood cops was an all-night dive, where you could buy dope, sex or discuss world events with a drag queen. I think they even sold hot dogs.

 

Tilly would stand in the corner and mind her own business. I remember once a guy offered to buy Tilly a meal. Tilly lashed out at this guy, telling him she didn’t need his money or charity.

 

old woman pulling shopping cartThe truth of the matter is that Tilly had money and according to some officers, she had lots. Once, J.J. a Hollywood foot beat officer, took Tilly to the hospital for a mental evaluation. They found $600.00 in small bills in her shopping cart. Another time an officer was in line at the Bank of America and Tilly was in front of him. Tilly deposited a handful of money into her bank account. Tilly could probably afford a motel room but like a lot of homeless people, she chose to live on the streets.

 

They tore down the Hot Dog stand in the 80’s and put up a strip mall. After that I would occasionally see Tilly sleeping on a bus bench on Sunset.  I didn’t even know her real name and like most Hollywood Characters, Tilly just disappeared.

Hal

 

 

Epilogue:  After I wrote this three years ago I received additional stories about Tilly from former Hollywood cops. Mike Castro mentioned the time he booked Tilly. She had $2,500 dollars in cash in her shopping cart. The officers almost threw it out with her trash.

 

Paul Anderson also related the following story:   Somewhere around the early 90’s I was driving westbound Beverly between Crescent Heights and Fairfax when I see this very nicely dressed elderly lady walking eastbound on Beverly. I abruptly stopped my black and white, backed up, and said to myself, “That looks like Tilly.” (Years prior she told me her real name was Mary Marlow). I got out of my car and walked up to her and asked, ‘Tilly?’” She says, “Sergeant Anderson, how are you?” I asked her why she left the Boulevards (Hollywood and Sunset) and she responded, “Someone told me it was dangerous, so I went to a retirement home.” This is coming from a “street person” of 10 to 15 years literally sleeping on the streets. Anyway, it was nice to see her and that she was alive and safe.

 

Another Hollywood success story. No wonder I loved worked Hollywood!

Hal

So I have to ask: any of you cop-types reading this have stories about your “characters.” Send a comment to this post and we’ll see how many characters we can accumulate!

Thonie

 

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Miscellaneous, part 6-Extortion Can Be Fun

By Hal Collier

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

 

The following stories are true to the best of my memory, which is suspect at best. I sometimes sit down at the computer and think of an amusing incident that occurred and write it down in my bullets (like normal people use a list—Thonie). When I pick a subject I go over my bullets and see if any will fit into my Ramblings. These are short and didn’t seem to fit into a story. Anyway, here goes. 

 

photo from wtaq.com
photo from wtaq.com

One night my partner, Bill Barren (RIP) and I were assigned to a Z-car. A Z-car means you don’t have radio calls and you can go out and look for bad guys all night long. It means you can go elephant hunting as we use to say. Just big time bad guys, no traffic warrants, drunks, or petty thefts. When assigned to a Z-car you want to show the Watch Commander that he made the right choice in picking you for this pinnacle of assignments in patrol. You stop everything that moves; you even skip coffee breaks and eating. 

 

This night there wasn’t any crime in Hollywood. Ok, none that we could find. About 6 A.M. we’re getting desperate. We see this car on a dark side street with a license plate light out. We stop the car hoping to find a body in the trunk or a back seat full of stolen property. We get the driver out, a young black man, and ask for his driver’s license.  

 

As he’s flipping through his wallet I see him pass by a California driver’s license and then produce another California driver’s license. His license say’s his name is Cleophus Whitehead and he’s 18 years old. Ha ha, we got him; I’ll bet he’s wanted in three states. I ask to see the other driver’s license. He produces it. Same picture, same address, but the name is Rene Whitehead and he’s now 21 year’s old, and of drinking age. Of course, I ask him, “Who’s license is this?”  

 

Ok, you think you’re ready for the answer. He says with a straight face, “It’s my brother. It’s the only picture I have of him.” I fall back against my police car laughing. Bill hunches his shoulders and says, “I give up, let’s go eat.” I give both licenses back to Mr. Whitehead and send him on his way. No elephants tonight. You can’t make this stuff up.

 

 

It’s a nice quiet Sunday morning and I’m the assistant Watch Commander. Yea I’m working day watch. I get a call from Tony Diaz, a great cop and now a detective assigned to Homicide. Tony asks me if the janitor has emptied the trash cans in the detective’s room this weekend?  Huh, I haven’t a clue and should I know what the janitors schedule is?

 

I reverse the scenario; I interrogate the detective. “Ok Tony, what’s up?.” Tony tells me the following story. He got into an argument with Russ Custer (RIP), the OIC of Homicide, on Friday afternoon. During the argument, Tony took off his badge and threw it in the trashcan, proclaiming, “I quit!” Tony was always getting into arguments with Russ and they soon made up over drinks after work. I suspect they were alcoholic drinks.

 

Cool, I got a confession with one question. Tony tells me he went home and didn’t remember until Sunday morning that he left his badge in the trash can.

 

I ask, “Tony, are you asking me to go through the trash cans, looking for your badge?” Tony hems and haws. Oh yea I’ve got him, but Tony doesn’t have anything I want. I don’t need a plea bargain, or a get out of jail free card. Yet. I also haven’t given Tony his Miranda Rights, so his confession is no good in court. Tony says he’ll wait while I go look. I tell Tony I’m pretty busy, I’ll have to call him back when I get a chance. This is so bizarre, a patrol cop sweating a homicide Detective. This is more fun than the time my captain asked if I had a key to his office for the third time.

 

I like Tony, so I go back into the detective room. I dig through the trashcan that Tony described and I find the badge. I call him back and make a ransom demand. Tony laughs and tells me where to put his badge. Tony got his badge back and I got this story.

 

 

dogintoupeeHave you ever been driving around and you see people driving with their dog in their laps standing looking out the driver’s window? We’re driving down Hollywood Boulevard about sunrise and stopped at a red light. I love dogs but I don’t think that dogs belong in the drivers lap. I’m the passenger and I look to my right. There’s a 60+ year old man in the car next to me. On the headrest is something close to a large rat or a very small dog. Yea I said on the headrest, right behind the drivers head. The dog or whatever it was, is giving me that mad dog look.  I’m bored and we’ve had a bad night.

 

HairpieceI stare at the dog and pretend to be barking at the dog. The real dog goes berserk, jumping around and barking. The dog dislodges the driver’s hairpiece. Now tell me that wouldn’t make you laugh. I start laughing so hard my partner thinks I’ve lost my mind. The driver looks over at me and gives me that I hope you’re not getting a raise this year. When the light turns green, he drives off with a yapping rat and a dislodged hair piece. 

 

It’s hard to believe they paid us for doing this job!

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings-Misc 2, featuring Childhood Revenge

 

By Hal Collier

 

 

The following stories are true. These are tidbits of things that happened during my career. I was recently asked why I write these stories. Whenever you get three or more cops together, they talk about the good old days. The more alcohol consumed the better the stories. All cops have stories of their experiences. They love listening to a cop’s story and then tell their version of the incident. Some of the replies I get of an incident confirm that my memory is still good. Hopefully, I can put off having my name and address written in my underwear for a few more years.

 

These stories are sort of my memoirs of my career. I always said that good police work was 75% luck. That’s being in the right place at the right time. It’s 25% knowing what to do with the luck when it drops in your lap. Being a cop is rewarding as well as frustrating. Cops rely on instincts due to their training and experience. Now days, lawyers call it profiling. The first story still bugs me to this day. I missed a big one.

 

I’m working A.M. Watch—it’s about 4 A.M. I’m driving in the Whitley Heights area of Hollywood. That’s a nice residential area above Hollywood Boulevard. It’s where movie stars first moved to in the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s. I see this car driving toward me. It’s a beat up clunker, one head light out. As he passes me, the driver has that ‘oh shit’ look on his face. Even my new probationer partner remarks that guy doesn’t fit this neighborhood.police traffic stop

 

We stop him to investigate. He identifies himself as Roman Jason Elliott III. He says he’s from New York and begins to compliment us on our professional appearance. Ok, I’ve been snowed before, but most attempts were by a female traffic violator. As I question him, I’m thinking he was in that neighborhood to commit a crime or was leaving after committing a crime. His story has so many holes that even the ACLU would be suspicious. His car was registered to a female—he claimed was his girlfriend’s car registered in Kansas. We checked him and the car for warrants and neither was wanted. He gave me permission to search his car. Nothing in the interior, the trunk was locked and he insisted his girlfriend had the key. I tried to figure out a way to get into the trunk. I’ve got that nagging feeling that something is wrong, but I can’t arrest him on hunches. I sent Roman on his way.

 

I’m off for the next two days and when I return, I’m sitting in Roll Call. They pass out a wanted flier for a Roman Jason Elliot III. Wanted for murder. It seems Roman strangled his girlfriend when she refused to be a prostitute and put her in the trunk of her car. He was looking for a place to dump her body. I’ve got that sick feeling in my stomach. I had him and let him slip away. He was later arrested in Florida and convicted. His girlfriend was a farm girl from Kansas. Roman convinced her that he would take her to Hollywood and make her a star. Yea, she was in the trunk when we stopped him. Win some, lose some and I lost a big one.

 

I found an interesting article dated Oct. 25, 1998 in the Lehigh (Pennsylvania) Valley newspaper. This wasn’t the only time Roman met the police. There’s even a line indicating he later had a murder conviction in California. Sadly, this is similar to what happened with Sonoma County Sheriff’s Deputies during the Polly Klaas abduction investigation. It’s one of those times when the law dictates what a cop can do–and can’t. If there was no consent to search the trunk in either case, the officer cannot lawfully do it. this is an example of cops doing their jobs to the best of their ability within the law. Unfortunately, the outcome wasn’t satisfactory in either case, although both men were convicted of murder.  –Thonie

 

OK, on a brighter note, Cliff and I are patrolling a rear parking lot of businesses behind Hollywood Boulevard. As we drive through the parking lot, we see a man come from the back of a business. We grab him and figure we caught us a business burglar. As we question him, I notice a hippy dog with a handkerchief tied around his neck, running around the parking lot. This guy’s story is also full of holes. We handcuff him and put him in the back seat of our patrol car. I leave Cliff to watch over our new friend, while I check which building this guy broke into.

 

I see that damn dog again.

 

As I look for a crime, Cliff calls out to me, “Hal, we got a problem.” I return to our car. That dog belonged to our bad guy. He entered our police car through an open front door and jumped into the back seat next to our suspect. The dog is barking at us and showing an impressive set of canines. The dog won’t let us approach our own police car.viciousmuttdog1200

 

I can just hear the guys laughing at us and imagine the comments and practical jokes.

 

“Hal, why didn’t you just let the dog drive your suspect to the station?”

 

“Hal, are you applying for a K-9 job?”

 

I need time to think.

I go back to checking out the businesses for a crime. Nothing, our suspect might have gone back there to pee or we just caught him too soon.

 

I’ve stalled enough. What do I do with that dog? I get as close as I can to my police car. I tell my suspect if he loves that dog, he had better control him. I even threaten to shoot the dog if he bites me. The guy gets his dog to calm down. We release the guy and the dog, we saved ourselves a bunch of embarrassment. Since then I’ve hated hippy dogs with handkerchiefs tied around their necks.

 

 

I grew up in Eagle Rock and we lived in the hills. Our street was on a hill with the top somewhat level. That’s were all the kids played ball, rode our bikes, played freeze tag and dreaded when the street lights come on, because that’s when we had to go home.

 

At the level spot of our street, lived a man, Mr. Melman, the scrooge of our block. I’ll bet every kid growing up had a Mr. Melman living in their neighborhood. If our ball landed in his yard, he would run out, grab it, and make one of our parents go get it back. If we were just starting a football game he would back his car out of the driveway and park it on our 50-yard line. He just hated kids, but then come to think of it the parents didn’t like him either. Well, growing up you learn to deal with adults.

 

Flash forward fifteen years, I’m a cop patrolling Hollywood Boulevard. My partner observes this guy who resembles a wanted suspect. We stop him and ask for identification. I look at his driver’s license and my mouth drops open. It’s Mr. Melman from my street. I didn’t recognize him and he didn’t recognize me. He wasn’t our wanted suspect but he did have a bunch of unpaid traffic tickets that had gone to warrant. I don’t think I ever enjoyed booking a warrant suspect more. I just wish I could have shared my joy with the kids I grew up with. Most had moved away and I lost touch with them.

 

I still get a warm feeling when I think of sweet childhood revenge.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Driving part 4 of 3

By Hal Collier

I swear this is the last Ramblings of Driving!

This will be part 4 of a planned trilogy. I have been accused of being verbose (wordy) or loquacious (talkative). I had to look up both words. I started writing my Ramblings for cops, then found out that they were being forwarded to non-cops, which was fine with me. I learned to stop using cop vernacular and abbreviations that only a cop might know. I also got e-mails from former partners, ‘Hey Hal what about this or that?’, and occasionally I get, ‘Do you remember the time you drove over my foot?’ Come on, I only did that twice! Each of these brings an additional paragraph or two. This is the last Ramblings on driving, I think!

Pursuit driving is whole new ball game. You don’t get to pick the streets, the speed, or the chances you take. It’s a little like riding in the last car of a roller coaster—you’re just along for the ride. You can terminate a pursuit anytime you want. That decision is usually based on your experience and your will to see your kids move out of the house and get married.

I’ve been in a lot of pursuits and as I stated before, I hate them. Some were easy; some made me want to be an electrician like my dad. The risks you take are seldom worth the punishment the culprit will receive from a judge. Most cops’ biggest problem during a pursuit is tunnel vision and your ego. Ego first. The longer you’re a cop the smaller your ego gets! Ego kicks in when some dirt bag challenges your authority by failing to stop at your command. A young cop will chase this guy for as long as it takes, no matter how big the risks! Tunnel vision can be just as dangerous. All you see is the bad guy in front of you, you don’t know how fast you’re going, or how many close calls you just had. A few close calls wised up some of us, others ended up on the Los Angeles Police Memorial Wall!

On the LAPD, we deployed 2 man cars. This made driving easier. The passenger officer could handle the computer and the radio. He was also in charge of checking cross traffic at intersections and in some cases telling you to stop chasing this nut. One man cars were required to relinquish the pursuit when a two man car joined in. It was a challenge to drive, broadcast, and watch for that little old man who didn’t hear your siren—often he will turn right in front of you.

Other driving incidents that most people never think of, including some cops, is police vehicle vs suspect on foot? The LAPD often conducted what they called “Buy-Bust Operations.” It not what your think, It has nothing to do with paying a prostitute or a part of the female anatomy. “Buy Bust” was cop talk for arresting street narcotic dealers. A U/C (undercover cop) would make a buy from a street dealer. The U/C would then radio the dealer’s description and the chase cars would swoop in and arrest him. I was a chase car more times than I care to talk about.

Some days being the chase car was easy, the U/C made a buy and you were sitting in your B/W (black and white) a few blocks away. You got the go signal and drove a block and arrested the culprit. He was then taken to the station for booking. Arresting drug dealers in Hollywood was like fishing with dynamite. Once in a while a dealer objected to being arrested, duh! He would run when he saw the chase car approach—crap.

I remember once Dale Hickerson and I were sitting two blocks east of Hollywood and Western. We got the go word. I drove east on Hollywood Boulevard. I see our suspect running toward us in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard. He’s done this before and when he sees us he turns down a side street. He’s running down the sidewalk and I’m driving—see I’m not so dumb. I look ahead and see a driveway where I can cut him off. I zip into the driveway and cut him off. He dodges around the back of our police car. He might have bumped into the rear fender. Dale jumps out and starts to chase him on foot. Now Dale and I have over 20 years on the job and are too old to be chasing some small time drug dealer. Dale yells, ‘Stop or I’ll shoot you!’ Well damn, our suspect stops. He might have seen that Expert Marksman badge on Dale’s uniform. We didn’t even think he spoke English.

Another time our Sergeant wants to ride with us during a buy bust operation. We put him in the back seat where we place our suspects. We get the go to arrest another dealer. I’m trying to turn left into a parking lot. I stop and wait for traffic to yield. My sergeant jumps out, traffic clears and I move forward. Yep, I ran over my sergeant’s foot. Funny, he never wanted to ride with me again.

One last driving story. This didn’t happen to me but I had to laugh when I heard about it. Delongpre Park was only two blocks from the police station, but they still sold drugs in the park. We often did buy bust operations in the park. The U/C would give the go sign and officers would race into the park to arrest the culprit. The city even installed wheel chair ramps so the cops didn’t have to get out of their car to get into the park. We drive up the ramps into the park and arrest the drug dealer. Experienced officers learned to stay off the grass!!!! Have you ever watched a NASCAR race when a driver spins out onto the grass, the brakes are worthless? Well many a rookie learned that lesson in Delongpre Park. They would dive into the park, turn onto the grass and then brake. They would slide right into a park bench. A few officers paid to have those benches replaced with days off with no pay!

Being retired and driving the LA freeways you drive 70 in a 65 MPH zone everyone else flies by me and shows me that at least one finger is manicured. I’ve still got my driver’s license and I’m just not ready for a golf cart yet. Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Driving, part 1 of probably 3

 

Hal’s post for today is also on my updated website thoniehevron.com under “Just the Facts, Ma’am.” For now the photos aren’t posted but will be soon. Please bear with me during this transition to my website from Wordpress blog.

Thanks, Thonie 

by Hal Collier

Think back to your youth. To some of us that will be a longer reach. Your hormones are racing and you wonder how your parents have survived knowing so little about the real world. You’re about to learn how to drive. You’re good at home for at least a few weeks before you ask mom if your can get a learner’s permit from DMV.

 

You get a permit and pester mom or dad to teach you to drive. It’s amazing how old dad got in six months while you drove in parking lots with no cars and on back streets. You finally get a license to drive. Mom will never sleep well again and dad seems to drink a little more beer at night after a lesson.

 

imagesP2HPK037Flash forward to the day you graduate from the police academy and hit the streets. You’re a rookie and although you have passed an academy approved driving course, in the real world of police work you don’t know how to drive. If you get to drive a real black and white police car (B/W) it’s only to gas it up or have the garage wash your cruiser.

 

I’ll never forget my first time! I’m still in the academy, but in the fourth month, they sent you out into the field for a few days to get a taste of real police work. That means you actually put bullets in your gun and most citizens don’t know that you’re a rookie.

 

On my first day, I show up at Rampart station looking good. I’m assigned to ride along with a Senior Lead Officer (Community Relations Officer). He’s what I later referred to as a slug. We spend the first two hours running off fliers for a neighborhood watch meeting. I got a paper cut but decided not to tell my academy classmates I was injured on duty.

 

We spent another hours following catering trucks to high-rise buildings on Wilshire Boulevard. That was so he could hit on office secretaries. We ate lunch at a dive restaurant only because the meal was half price.

An LAPD no no!

 

After lunch, we’re driving down Wilshire Boulevard and my partner pulls over to the curb. He looks at me and says, “Get Out.” Oh crap, what have I done? He tells me I’m driving. Holy crap. I remind him I’m still in the academy; he laughs and tells me to drive. Cool. I get in and adjust the mirrors, seat, and cinch the seat belt down tight. I’m ready. I ask, “Where do you want me to drive?” He replies anywhere as long as it’s up and down Wilshire Boulevard real slow so I can look at the girls! I swore that I would never be that kind of a cop. He was later fired for using crime statistics to promote his own alarm business.

 

There are reasons that new officers don’t get to drive and I’m going to tell you some of them. The most important is survival! Every cop wants to go home at the end of his shift. The driver of a B/W often holds the life of both officers in his hands. An inexperienced driver can get both officers killed as well as innocent citizens. Trust me, there’s no glory in dying in a car crash that was your fault. 

 

article.wn.com police foundtn dev dr trng trackCops, especially young cops seem to have an invincible attitude or “that’s not going to happen to me.” You have to attend a few police officer funerals to see that you’re not Superman. There is no bigger shock than looking down at a dead police officer in his uniform in a casket. I made my probationers go to at least one cop funeral for that reason alone. Cops have a tendency to want to be the first on scene at a major incident so we drive faster and take more chances. Only with experience do we slow down. Having a family also helps.

 

After graduation, I’m sent to Hollywood Division, the “Entertainment Capital of the World.” I’m pretty proud: we’re driving down Hollywood Boulevard, it’s a Saturday night and the streets are packed. I even have bullets in my gun. I’m perfectly happy to be the passenger—for a while.

 

Next I’ll describe why rookies shouldn’t drive until they have out grown those academy t-shirts.  

–Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Police Burglars, part one

By Hal Collier
December 7. A day that will live in infamy! No, not that fateful day in 1941 but that day in 1981. I know what you’re saying, Hal has lost his mind, nothing eventful happened on December 7, 1981. Well, it did for me and all LAPD cops. That was the day that Jack Myers and Ron Venegas, LAPD cops, were arrested for committing burglaries on duty in uniform in Hollywood.

This Ramblings has taken a long time to write and I still find it hard to talk about it 3 decades later. This was as personnel as losing a partner and attending his funeral. I still feel the pain.

Ok, a little background. As you probably know by now, I worked Hollywood Patrol for 33 years of my career. I took pride in my being a LAPD cop and Hollywood being one of the best police divisions. I busted my butt to keep crime down and earn the respect of the citizens who paid my salary.

I also had a lot of fun and many days I couldn’t believe that they were paying me. If you didn’t have fun in this job you were doing it wrong and headed for one of those coats with long sleeves that tied in the back!

The following opinions are mine alone and certainly differ from those of the LAPD Command Staff. I was there. It happened all around me and I didn’t need a blue ribbon panel to tell me how it happened. That is, after it was discovered.

First, let me give you my opinion of the two main players. Jack Myers was a senior officer. I wasn’t fond of Jack and didn’t care for his style of police work. Ron Venegas was a very likable officer and popular among the Morning Watch Officers and Supervisors. Jack and Ron both played softball with the watch in Griffith Park on Sundays mornings. I knew Ron’s wife and kids by name and even attended a Christmas party at Ron’s house.

As I related earlier I was working a Morning Watch Foot Beat when the watch commander told me that they were disbanding the foot beat to make room for a new Burglary Alarm car. It was called the “Code 30” car. They would respond to all burglary alarms, of which in Hollywood there were many. The officers picked were Jack Myers and Ron Venegas. I’m guessing that sometime down the road the LAPD found that decision a major disaster. Venegas and Myers were close friends who both lived in Simi Valley. They worked movie jobs off duty together and I’ll bet they considered themselves good partners!

I was assigned back to my patrol car and my area was Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards with most of the major Hollywood businesses. I began to notice an increase in business burglaries in my area. I was an addict of reading the Daily Occurrence or D/O sheet. The D/O sheet listed all the crimes that occurred the day prior. I paid particular attention to crimes in my area and looked for patterns that might lead to an arrest.

So every day I’d sit in roll call and ignore the Watch Commanders speech on how the brass was going to make my job easier and study the D/O sheet. I raced to every business burglar alarm call in my area. I drove down dark alleys with lights out. Sometimes I’d park and just listen for the sound of breaking glass. I was getting frustrated and my watch commander was wondering what I was doing all night. There has to be a clue that I’m missing!

I once took a report at Lido Cleaners, a dry cleaners, where most of Hollywood Division and I had their uniforms cleaned. They were the victim of a burglary and cash was taken. Ok, this is getting personal.

I don’t know when the burglaries started but I’ll never forget the day they ended. Part 2, I’ll talk about the aftermath of those arrests. Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Foot Pursuits, part 3- My Best

By Hal Collier

This will be the last installment in foot pursuits.  I was involved in a lot of foot pursuits in my career but most were uneventful.   Some were very short, some involved multiple officers and sometimes I was just out-run by some rookie cop who still had a drawer full of T-shirts with his name on them.  You only had T-shirts with your name on them in the Academy.  These rookies just love running past you in a foot pursuit.  I heard one laugh as he ran by me but I got the last laugh when he ripped out the knee on his brand new uniform pants.  Rookies, you have to get rid of those leather soled dress shoes when you graduate from the academy, no grip on the turns.

On the run photo by Siegels Uniforms
On the run
photo by Siegels Uniforms

There are rules when running after a suspect on foot.  These rules are for officer survival.  Partners should never split up.  It happens but is strongly discouraged by the Department.  If a suspect runs around a corner, the officer should go wide around that corner.  That’s in case the suspect has decided to ambush the officer when he rounds the same corner.

If you jump a wall, don’t go over the same place that your suspect jumped over.  I chased a suspect over a wall once and when I got to the top of the wall I saw him crouched down waiting for me on the other side.  Never run with your finger on the trigger of your gun.  I was chasing this guy. He jumped off a car bumper and over a wall.  I stepped on the bumper and slipped on the dew.  Thank goodness I didn’t have my finger on the trigger or it would have been days off without pay for a negligent discharge.  For my non-police friends, that’s an “awe shit”.

Most cops developed a sixth sense about some aspect of police work.  I knew a cop, Tony Diaz, who could look at a car and tell if it was stolen.  Another partner, Joe Cupo, could look at a guy walking down the street and tell if he was carrying a gun. Some were great interrogators.  Some were great butt-kissers, too many to name–but I digress.

My sixth sense was foot pursuits.  I could tell if a suspect was about to run.  It’s body language.  I couldn’t teach it to other cops but I just knew.  We would be talking to a suspect and suddenly he would turn and run.  Most times I was already taking a step after him before he took his first step.  Partners would ask, how did you know he was going to run?  I couldn’t give them an answer, I just knew.

I was walking a foot beat on Hollywood Boulevard with a partner and we saw this suspicious character.  I approached him and he took off running.  I’m chasing him and broadcasting on my old handheld CC unit.  A CC radio was an antique form of communication before all officers had radios on their belts.  I’m running after this dirt bag and broadcasting my direction, requesting backup and the description of this miscreant.  His description may change if I catch him alone, but that’s another story.

The radio operator must think I’m a rookie, she tells me to calm down, take a deep breath and repeat my message.  As calmly as I can, I tell her that I’m chasing this suspect on foot and after I catch him I’ll take a deep breath.  Three blocks later we catch him.  I got to the station and the W/C told me that Communications Division called and the radio operator apologized, she didn’t know I was running and broadcasting at the same time.

This was probably my most rewarding foot pursuit, not because I caught the bad guy but because I cleared the most crimes by running this guy down.

A little background:  There’s an area just south of the Hollywood Bowl parking lot where the houses can only be accessed by steps and a sidewalk.  Alta Loma Terrace runs west from Highland Avenue and intersects with Broadview Terrace which runs north from High Tower.  There are about 3 dozen homes that line the sidewalks, cozy unless your moving furniture.  These homes don’t get any police patrols because it would require officers to get out of their cars and hike up the stairs and sidewalks.

From policemag.com: to run or not to run photo by policemag
From policemag.com: to run or not to run
photo by policemag

Back to my best foot pursuit.  I’m walking a foot beat on Hollywood Boulevard at 2 A.M.  Foot beat officers had CC units which were hand held radios.  I’m listing to a radio broadcast of a hot prowl burglar on Broadview Terrace.  After the third burglary, we decide to see if we can help.  The suspect was not shy about being seen as he would break into an occupied house.  That makes him very dangerous.  Before we walk up the steps the burglar has committed another crime.  The area is all hillside with lots of foliage and hiding places.

We have six officers and two long blocks to search to see if he’s still in the area.  He’s taken wallets, stereos and some other large items.  We figure he’s got them hidden somewhere in the area.  I found the stolen items on a dirt path at the end of Broadview Terrace.  We decide that my partner and I will hide near his stolen loot and grab him when he returns.   The other officers pretend to leave the area.  We think it’s a good plan.

We only wait a half hour when I see our suspect walking up the sidewalk toward us.  I duck down behind a porch wall and wait.  Our suspect disappears. Oh crap, we’ve blown the stake out.  We hear the elevator that connects Hightower to the steps.  The elevator is going down. Oh shit, my suspect is getting away.  The elevator comes back up and a resident is in it.  He’s not happy with my gun pointed at his head.  He said no one was in the elevator when it came down.  Our suspect is still in the area.

I go back to the spot where I last saw the bad guy.  I step between two houses and look down at an overgrown hillside, adjacent to the Hollywood Bowl parking lot.  It’s dark and all I see is trees and some bushes.  I’m still shining my flashlight around the area when my suspect jumps up and starts running.  I lost him once but not again.  I run down the hillside.  I can only see a foot in front of me but I can hear my suspect, as he crashes through the bushes ahead.  I step into a hollow and land on my butt.  I lose my night stick.  My partner falls into the same hole and picks up my night stick.  My partner is fifteen yards behind me, a non-smoker, and I’m guessing by the sounds, that I’m ten yards behind the suspect.

I’m thinking, I can’t lose this guy, I’m pretty sure I ripped my uniform, I know I have scratches and I’m wondering if there’s poison oak on this hillside.  We break into the clear and my suspect jumps a fence and runs through the Bowl parking lot.  I see him hide in some bushes and I wait for other officers to show up.

We catch the guy, but I’m a little beat up, my uniform is not torn and I didn’t get poison oak.  Our bad guy broke into nine homes that night.  He never made it to court, because he was dying of cancer.  The home owners were happy, my sergeant was happy and I was happy.  Now all I have to do is spend the next six hours writing up an arrest report and booking this guy at a medical facility.

I wish all of my foot pursuits turned out this good.

Hal