By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD
New Year’s Eve: I was one of eight uniformed Metro officers who along with a sergeant was assigned to Hollywood and Vine. I have never been good at estimating crowd size. I just know we are packed solid on all four corners.
The crowd was in various stages of drunkenness but generally well behaved. It consisted mostly of people who by now were probably tired of standing, wondering why they are here, asking themselves when they are going to start having fun but most of all, where’s then nearest rest room? Needed soon.
In the center of the intersection was a man hole cover. Custom and tradition said, to stand upon said manhole cover exactly at midnight would mean what?
It was sort of a “king of the hill” thing.
Vehicular traffic had been moving at a snail’s pace but was now shut down and diverted off the boulevard.
On his bull horn, the sergeant tells the crowd that it is 11:55 and they can have the intersection for 10 minutes.
The crowd who had been standing numbly on the sidewalk is now in the street thinking the same thoughts as before. But for a few this may very well be the most exciting or daring thing they have ever done in their lives.
Some can probably see their obituary: “The deceased Mr. Beanie Watros, in addition to his 40 year service as assistant manager at the Widget Factory, was somewhat of a local legend having on one occasion actually stood in the center of Hollywood and Vine at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve until rudely pushed to the curb by a large police officer with a stick.”
The sergeant begins the countdown……one minute………30 seconds……..10-9-8…….
Now the attempt to “take” the manhole begins.
There are always 8 or 10 ready to do battle.
Now, we have two types of fighters—those who fight like 12-year-old girls (sorry ladies) and those who learned from watching silent movies where everyone “swung roundhouse punches arms fully extended.” If they connected, everyone went down.
Miss and they went down.
At 12:05 the sergeant’s whistle tells us to take the street back. We commandeer the “standing” drunks to move the “down” drunks to the sidewalk.
“But officer, I don’t even know this guy.”
“Neither do I friend. Now put him over there.”
The crowd is now back where they started wondering, “what just happened?”
“Did I have fun or what?”
They mill about for a bit until someone comes up with the best suggestion of the night. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Not to long after we are released so we can drive to Pasadena and work the Rose Parade for the princely sum of $25.00.