Tag: Hollywood

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Sleeping and the Job

Hal Collier’s next 5 posts will be on Graveyard Shift and how it impacts a the life of an emergency service worker: Dispatchers, Medics, and Firefighters all have to live this way. Firefighters can sleep on the job sometimes but my husband came home dog tired many times because he was up all night on fires or a multi-casualty incident (known as MCI’s in the biz…) of varying types. On another note: I never could split my sleep the way Hal describes. After work, I fell into bed and slept (mostly) 6-7 hours. I also never could have a beer at 7 am. But everyone has their method of coping with the conflicting body rhythms of a graveyard shift. Some don’t cope as well as others. At Petaluma PD one night, a new dispatcher–a cocky young man–insisted to his partners that he never slept on the job. That was until a co-worker tied his shoelaces together one night. The co-worker arranged to have one of the officers flip on his siren and open his mic at the same time. Well, that young dispatcher learned to be cautious of his boasting in the future.

–Thonie

 

 

By Hal Collier

I have been writing my Ramblings for over three years and get a lot of comments.  Some encourage me to keep writing, some suggest that I’m verbose (wordy).  Some suggest that I take up knitting.  Some claim that they never committed anything that might be misconduct and they always were professional.  Of course memories fade, I will always be 160 lbs.

 

I leave everyone’s memory of their career to themselves.  Me, I did some things for entertainment that the department might not like.  I didn’t commit any crimes but I played practical jokes that today would be considered a hostile work environment.  I also accepted a free cup of coffee or a bag of sunflower seeds.  I ate at restaurants that gave cops half price meals, all against Department rules.  I did wear my seatbelt and stopped at stop signs.  I was laughed at for stopping at the stop sign at the police academy.

 

 

Photo by dreamstime
Photo by dreamstime

Working AM watch was living like an owl.  You work all night then sleep during the day.  At night, you go hunting for prey then return to your nest.  As I’ve mentioned numerous times, I worked a lot of Morning Watch as AM watch was called.  Of my thirty-five years on the LAPD I worked Morning Watch nineteen years.  In the beginning, it was the department’s idea.  Later, it was mine.  I fell in love a second time! 

 

I graduated from the Police Academy on a beautiful Friday.  Saturday night I was working Hollywood Morning Watch.  Morning Watch started at 11:30 P.M. on the day before you were scheduled to work.  It was confusing at first but I figured it out. But try explaining to a non-police person.  If you’re working on Monday the 2nd, you go to work at 11:30 PM on the 1st.  You are invited to a party on the 9th.  Don’t take the 9th as your day off, you have to take the 10th.  Got it? Some never figured it out.

 

My first day, I figured I needed to take a nap before work.  Last thing a probationer needs to do is fall asleep during his first day on the job.  I hope four hours will get me through the night.  Ok, I’m more excited than a five-year-old on Christmas Eve and I’m going to take a nap.  OK, I’m a rookie at sleeping in the daytime.  I lie down and toss and turn for three hours.  It’s no use-I’m wide awake.  I yawn on my way to work that night.

 

 

Copper Skillet
Copper Skillet

I found out that a Saturday night in Hollywood is not dull or slow at all.  We race from call to call, stop a kid from committing suicide.  At 4 AM I’m sitting in the Copper Skillet eating breakfast.  I drive home as the sun is rising and people are going to church.  I get home and take off my uniform.  I didn’t get a locker until I had been in Hollywood for over a month.

 

I’d spent an hour telling Terri, my wife, about every minute of my first night, including the pancakes I had for breakfast.  Then, I went to bed and spent a good four hours sleeping.  I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  Later in the evening I got another two hours of sleep, and went to work.  This sleeping in the daytime might take some practice.

 

Two days later, I get a few days off. Yea, that’s right a Wednesday, Thursday.  You didn’t think a rookie was going to get a weekend off, did you?  So after work, you are tired but it’s your day off and you don’t want to sleep it away.  You try to stay awake but by 6 PM you’re asleep on the couch.  After seven hours of sound sleep, you now wake up well rested.  The only problem is it’s 3 AM.

 

I needed a new method.  After all those years, my system was take a four hour nap before work after a day off.  I sleep four hours after work with a day off ahead.  This worked for me and after a while I had no problem sleeping during the day.

 

Of course no system is perfect.  During the first year of my probation, Terri was working and I had the house to myself, except for my dog and the telephone.  The dog barked at the door to door salesmen, as well as the mailman. 

 

phone ringingThe telephone was a different story.  Non-police friends would call during the middle of the day and say, “Hey Hal, what are you doing?” 

“I was sleeping, I have to work tonight.” 

Non-police friends soon become non-friends.  They just don’t understand and who wants to go out on the town on Wednesday night?  Cops are accused of only hanging out with other cops and that’s part of the reason.

 

Another time I was exhausted and was in a deep sleep.  The phone kept ringing so I got up and answered it.  “Hello this is the LA Times and I’m offering you a 1 year subscription for half price.” I lost my usual congenial personality.  I told him where he could put his rag newspaper and if he wanted help, I’m off Thursday.

 

Another time I was sound asleep and I hear my 2 year-old-son running down the hallway toward our bedroom.  I hear Terri yelling, “Bob, don’t wake up your father.”  Bob runs faster than Terri and threw a metal Tonka Dump Truck, onto the bed. It hit an area 8 inches below my navel.  See if you can get back to sleep after a shot to your ????.

 

Next I’ll talk about court, days off, and split shifts of sleep.     Hal

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Rookie Mistakes

By Hal Collier

 

The story you are about to read is true.  The following mistakes were mine and mine alone.  Some I have repressed for over three decades, but I have come to the conclusion that my career is over.  I was a slow learner when it came to my career.

 

LAPD Academy graduates
LAPD Academy graduates

I mentioned station security in one of my earlier stories.  One of the important jobs of the station security officer was that the flags be posted at dawn.  The old station was two stories and the flag pole was outside a second story window.  To attach the flags to the pole you had you lean way out the window and attach both the American and California flags.  One morning after eight hours of standing in the dark and leaning out the window, I hung the California flag upside down.  I was tired and didn’t notice.  The Captain drove into the station parking lot and wanted to know who thought the California bear should be on his back.  After apologizing to the Captain.  He suggested that I have two more days of Station Security to practice posting the flags the proper way. It never happened again.

Most probationers are pretty proud of being a cop. Unfortunately most citizens aren’t that impressed.  I’d been in the streets for about 6 weeks and I learned that people were always watching you. I want to make a good impression.  It’s Saturday night in Hollywood, the streets are crowded, young ladies stare as you drive down Hollywood Boulevard.  I’m pretty impressed with myself.  I’m the passenger officer in a 1969 Plymouth black and white–the best police car the department ever used.  It’s only 2 years old but already has over 70,000 miles and the dash has holes in it.  The seat belts are tied in knots so you couldn’t wear them if you wanted to.  In the hands of a good driver that car could take a corner on two wheels and not lose speed.  My partner Rick was just that kind of a driver.

1969 Plymouth Belvedere patrol car
1969 Plymouth Belvedere patrol car

We got a code three radio call. That means red lights and siren.  It was halfway across the Division. Cool, I’m going to have hundreds of citizens watching their tax dollars at work.

Now Rick is in rare form. He’s taking corners that would make a stunt car driver proud.  Were southbound on Fairfax approaching Sunset.  The streets are packed and they have all stopped to watch us make a right turn onto Sunset.  John takes the corner like a pro, I grab the inside door handle to fight the centrifugal force.  The door handle comes off in my hand and I slide across the seat.  I’m now sitting next to Rick as if we were on a date.  I scoot back across the seat to my side of the car and look out the window.  I see all these people laughing.   I’m guessing they won’t vote us a pay raise this year.

Another early lesson you learn is that you’re wearing a blue wool uniform.  Wool uniforms attract animal hair of any kind.  When a little old lady invites you to sit on her couch, ask if she has cats.  Lint brushes hadn’t been invented yet so you spent the rest of the night looking like a fur covered cop.  That was not even my rookie mistake.  I was wearing a long sleeve, blue wool uniform one cold night.  We had an encounter with a combative drag queen.  I said I wouldn’t be politically correct, for my non-police friends, a drag queen is a man who dresses in women’s clothes.  The choke hold was a department approved tactic and was even encouraged in the early 70’s.  It was never fatal and saved you from hitting the bad guy with your night stick.

This gentlemen in women’s clothing decided he was not going to jail. The fight was on.  I applied the department approved choke hold.  The gentlemen soon went to sleep for about 30 seconds and was handcuffed.  As I stood up my partner was laughing at me.  I looked down at our suspect, he was wearing a rabbit hair coat.  My uniform was covered in rabbit hair and my sleeve had pancake make-up all over it.  Sometimes rookie mistakes can’t be helped. Yea it was the first day of a clean uniform

Practical Joke:  People in all walks of life have played practical jokes on fellow friends, employees, and spouses.  Most people in emergency services use practical jokes as a morale booster and stress release.  Most old timers will say they miss the old days.

We had a Lieutenant who was liked by the whole watch.  He rode a Harley Davidson motorcycle and considered anyone who rode a different motorcycle a lesser form of life.  His motorcycle was his pride and joy.  One boring night on A.M. watch, the Lieutenant had his motorcycle parked at the rear door of the station.  The Lieutenant was distracted by some accomplices, while another officer pushed his pride and joy into the Captains Office.  An hour later the Lieutenant was called into the Captains Office, where the Captain wanted to know why the Lieutenant’s Motorcycle was dripping oil on his carpet.  Ok, not all practical jokes are well thought out.  The Lieutenant was more concerned if his motorcycle was scratched.

Hal

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Ramblings Bizarre

By Hal Collier

The following stories are true and can be verified by three living cops whose names never appeared in the LA times.  These stories are a little bizarre and seldom made headlines in the Los Angeles area.

The first incident involved a radio call in Laurel Canyon.  You only needed a month in Hollywood to know that Laurel Canyon was home to politicians, celebrities, and nuts. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish the difference.  Some of their careers were on their way up and many on their way down.  It was known for parties and a little bit of illegal drug use. Ok a lot of drug use.   You just never know what you’ll find up in the canyon.

Laurel Canyon
Laurel Canyon

Most cops hated getting calls in the canyon.  It took a street guide and a half hour to find some street with a hand painted sign attached to a power pole.  It took you an hour to find your way back down out of the canyon.  The passenger had to read the street guide backwards to find your way out, not an easy task for a cop with a GED.  Police cars don’t have GPS systems and if they did it would be full of coffee spots and all night eating spots.

Late or early one night, depending on your point of view, a rash of radio calls came out on one of those winding mountain roads in Laurel Canyon. The radio calls described some nut running around naked.

Ok, it’s about 2 AM. You were about to do some really important police work, coffee at 7-11.   Damn, you have to drive up into the canyon to look for some nut, high on drugs.  You can’t find him so you drive back down toward the 7-11.  You just get to the bottom of the canyon and you get another call, same naked man, only now he’s west a block.  At least you know the way.  Back into the canyon, again you can’t find him, maybe you should have brought the coffee with you.  Did you ever wonder why police cars don’t have cup holders? But I digress.  We never did find the naked man, hopefully he went home.

Flash forward three months.  A young couple in their first home decides to build a fire on a cold winter night.  The house begins to fill with smoke.  They extinguish the fire and see that their chimney is clogged with a dead naked man.  That’s right–the drug intoxicated man climbed into the chimney and died. That explained the strange smell the couple couldn’t get rid of.

True story.  The fire department had to dismantle the fireplace to remove the body.  “Hello Allstate, does my home owners insurance cover a naked dead man in my chimney?”  I can hear the laughter and “Am I on Candid Camera?”

One bright morning a Laurel Canyon resident takes his dog to the Mulholland Dog Park.  His dog loves to run free with the other dogs and sometimes they chase each other into the hillside brush.  This fine morning, the man’s dog exits the brush with something in his mouth.  It’s a human jaw bone.  Now dead bodies are dumped all over the LA area, especially in the hills.  I once was told by a Park Ranger that he thought more bodies were in Griffith Park than Forrest Lawn.  Doubtful but close to the truth.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy Hoffa isn’t in Griffith Park.

So Hollywood Homicide is called and they search the area but can’t find a body.  Now everyone knows that a body in the hills can be scattered by the animals that call Hollywood their home.  The dog owner became obsessed and every once in a while he would call the police and claim to have found the body.  Once he found a pile of bones and was sure that it was the missing body.  It was a dead deer.  To my knowledge the body was never found and the case remains open.

.

This story has nothing to do with dead bodies but it would have made a great “Cops” episode.   I’m a new sergeant working Southeast Division (Watts) on Morning Watch.  It’s been another slow night and I’m looking forward to getting off work and jumping into morning rush hour traffic through downtown L.A.  A Domestic Violence radio call comes out just as the sun is rising over the Watts Towers.  The suspect is now on the roof of his house and refuses to come down.  Maybe he thought he was in New Orleans?

Pole vaulter photo by USA Today
Pole vaulter photo by USA Today

I arrive and can’t believe my eyes.  This nut is indeed on the roof of his house, but what they failed to tell us was that he was armed with a twenty foot pole.  He refused to come down and if the officers got too close he would pole vault to the house next door.  I watched him vault across three houses and then back.  This went on for over an hour.  I rated his technique as only a five!

Ok, you’re the supervisor at the scene. What tactic would you use?  If you use a taser or tear gas him and he falls off the roof, he’ll probably break his neck and die.  You don’t want to send officers up on the roof and fight this nut, the officers might fall off the roof.  You could call for a crisis negotiator but this guy is high and not very rational.  After Police Academy-taught negotiations fail, you lower your expectations.  Most of his responses are limited to about two words which are about my mother.

Well, patience paid off again.  We kept watching him and at times laughed at him.  This upset him so he tried one more vault, only this time his hands slipped and he fell off the roof.  He bounced once and was taken into custody.  If this had been in Hollywood it would have been covered by 5 news stations with commentators critiquing our tactics.  In Watts, a stalled big rig on the Harbor freeway was the breaking news.  I was just enough overtime that my drive home was traffic free.  I went home and went to bed but I couldn’t sleep because I kept laughing at the Watts pole vaulter.

Cops see some bizarre things not only in Hollywood but in every city. You just have to wait for the radio call.

Hal

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Ramblings: LA Riots, part 2

By Hal Collier

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

Cops and Firefighters
Cops and Firefighters

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

 

LAFD Truck 27
LAFD Truck 27

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

 

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

“Hey Hal, they’re all gone”.

I ask, “Who?”

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

 

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

That was the end of my fire escort duty.

 

Hal

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Ramblings: Females Part One

 

By Hal Collier

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

 

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

 

Policewoman badge
Policewoman badge

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

Pioneering police women
Pioneering police women

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

Next Females as patrol cops.                                                                       

 

Hal

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Ramblings: Motor Cops, Part 2

By Hal Collier

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

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