Picture Says It All

lolo sign.jpg

Drive safe.

Every cop I ever knew hated traffic stops. You never know what can happen. They can turn on you in a heartbeat. But you always call off. Always.

          CALL OFF

Traffic stops can be crazy. You “always” radio off before approaching a vehicle you’ve pulled over.

Always. If you can.

The Ford was late on the red lIght. Not accident late, but late enough to warrant a stop and ticket. Dropping in behind him I turned on the blue lights and touched the horn. No siren yet, just a little beep on the horn.

-56-

(Dispatch)-Standing by 43-

-43, need rap and warrants on that last –

(D)10-4 43. Stand by-

-56 central?-

(D)-Stand by 56. Go ahead 128-

-128, I’ll be off Century Building Suite 1404 on burglary follow-up-

(D)-10-4 128. Off at 1557 hours-

-56-

(D)-Go ahead 44-

-44; stopping Alpha Bravo Yankee 414. King and Elm. Code 10 please.-

-56 Dispatch?-

-43 standing by-

(D)-43, no warrants. Driver has seven priors. Readout?-

-Negative. Hold the card I’ll call.-

By now the Fords driver appears to be getting antsy. I try one more time.

56?-

(D)- All units. An APB on an Auto Theft just occurred. A 1978 Chevrolet Camaro, 2 door, blue in color. License number Delta Bravo Charley 338. Taken between 1445 hours and 1530 hours this date. APB at 1603 hours.-

The driver is definitely looking antsy now; his head is on a swivel.  Better talk to him now, call it in later.

“Excuse me Sir. May I see your license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance? You were a little late crossing the intersection.”

“The light was yellow. Fuck off.”

“No Sir, the light was red. Now let me have your license, registration and insurance card,”

(He’s getting out. Step back so he doesn’t hit you with the door. Christ he’s a big bastard.)

“Sure Pig. You want my license, come and take it.”

(D)-Central standing by for 56-

(D)-Calling 56-

(D)-Calling 56-

(D) Central calling 56 at 1609 hours.

(D)-Central calling any unit with 10-5 of unit 56. Unit does not respond to Central and I have no call off for him. Any unit with 56 location please respond-

(D)- All units clear for emergency broadcast.

(D)-Refused caller reports officer in trouble. Reports officer struggling with male at the intersection of Queen and Auhai. Possible unit 56. Units responding please advise Central. 1611 hours.-

Call off. Always.

Happy Birthday Ranger

I was remiss in not mentioning my birthday last Friday, the 14th.

A birthday I gladly share with one of the greatest hero’s of the small, and large screen, the Lone Ranger himself, Clayton Moore.

The part of the Ranger and his virtues helped Moore change his life, and made him a man worth praising. He’s had a good career before being cast, went into depression when he lost the role, and re-emerged as the true hero when he earned the part back.

i have several signed pictures of the ranger and since he and I share the birthday I will say…

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY RANGER 

SOAPBOX     SOAPBOX       SOAPBOX     (there you’ve been warned.)

On a different note, I make no secret of my politics. I also make no secret that I would like to see a lot of change in Hawaii. Less .gov interference. Less.gov hands in my wallet. Recently I was asked to join the Tupuola campaign, but I don’t know what, if anything, she stands for or behind. So I sent an e-mail to her hq which included the following

  1. Don’t expect me the wave signs until you come out and tell me, and everyone else, what you will do when governor and how it will differ from the current governor. And I want to hear it loudly and publicly, not just in quiet safe meetings with your supporters.

2)  Tell me you do, or don’t, support the President and will, or won’t, allow your Attorney General to waste tax payer’s money to sue the President over something that has, or will have, negligible effect on my state and my economy. But is paid for by my taxes.

3)   I want to see you out in public telling me what you will do and asking for my vote at the top of your voice, not running this quiet little shadow campaign. I realize this is the way it’s always done, but time to change the “way it’s always done”.

Remember, if you don’t blow your own horn, nobody will ask you to join the band.

 

Well, so far no response, no ” loud and public” statements, and it is still, to my knowledge, a shadow campaign. Oh well, maybe next time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More Dust…More Space

She wrote the book; “How To Murder Your Husband”.                                                     Now she is in jail for killing her husband. Is it life imitating art, or just really bad fact checking?

Transgender Man In Woman’s Prison Sexually Assaults Female Inmates.                    So he decided he was a lesbian? Boy, talk about confused.

California Man Tries To Stab Candidate; Switchblade Knife Fails.                                           That’ll teach him to bring a knife to a gun fight. Can I say that? Bet you it was a cheap Mexican knockoff.

Nike Controversy.                                                                                                                    Nobody has asked, but I find it horribly offensive. Kaperdick hasn’t really sacrificed anything, I don’t believe he really “believes” what he says, and I’ll start believing when these NFL players start doing something in their off-season to change whatever it is they are protesting. You know, put some of their millions where their mouths are. Until then, it’s all just theater.

Monsters Are Real

Recently I watched a “cult” classic, “Monster Squad” from 1986. Cheesy by today’s standards. Many of the child actors were familiar as were the adults.

It had all the classic monsters, Frankenstein, Wolf-man, Dracula, and The Creature from  the lagoon. All gathered together to “take over the world”.

Oh, a suggestion. If you ever move into a small town that has a museum, a swamp, an airfield, and an ancient German castle that was transplanted to America; not move there. LOL

But I know, as do some of you, monsters are real. They may not be covered with fur, or have gills. but they are real.

                                        Memories of An Ugly Place

I remember an ugly place from when I was a boy.

It was near the first house my parents bought. It was a working class neighborhood north of Seattle. Nobody was rich, but not really poor. A neighborhood of Boeing workers and their families, Korean War vets and the sons and daughters of World War Two soldiers now grown and starting families of their own. A pleasant enough place to grow up in the 1950’s.

But I remember one specific place. It was just blocks from our small home, a large fenced in area, surrounded by not one but two fences. They were six or eight feet apart and at least ten feet high. Both fences were topped with barbed wire. One to keep people out, the other to keep them inside.

It seemed like a forbidden park. There were lots of tree and paths you could see from the outside. If you went all the way around you would see the gates and guards, and the Quonset huts for the offices and homes for those who lived and worked inside.

As kids we had to pass the fence almost every day. There were all kinds of stories about who was inside that fenced area. Some parent said it was an asylum for the insane. Some others would tell you it was for “special” criminals. And there were only men. You never saw any women.

One look at these emaciated “inmates” and you truly did not know what story to believe. They reminded me of some pictures I had seen, in LIFE Magazine, of the camps of WW II and how the people looked when the Allies finally freed them.

There were no guard towers, but there were men walking around the paths during the daytime. At night you could sometimes see the glow of flashlights as the guards walked the grounds. They didn’t carry guns and wore white clothes, but they were guards just the same.

My early morning paper route took me down one side of the fence every day. Since I made my deliveries at 5 am, I seldom saw any of the people that lived “inside the fence”. Often on the way to school and on the way home, I would see them walking, silently, the paths of the wooded area. Sometimes, one would stand near the inside fence and just stare out at the passing cars, the yards, and the children on bicycles. Sometimes they would stand there until one or two of the white clothed guards would come, whisper in their ear, and walk them away into the trees. No kid, at least none I ever knew, claimed to have talked with any of the men.

Not even Paul, the kid everyone knew was “crazy “and mostly avoided as much as possible. Truth be known, I think even he was afraid.

It was their eyes I could never seem to avoid. They had a look that frightened me and I didn’t know why. As a child I just thought they were “scary”. I didn’t know why they scared me, but they did. The problem was every time I saw one of them standing by the fence, I had to look.

The men walking the paths wore blue cloth coats, blue pants that looked like pajama bottoms, and cloth slippers, just like the ones I wore on the house during the winter. It wasn’t until years later I realized it was hospital clothing.

It was a hospital, and a prison. I was much older when I learned that was the way they treated vets who came back home from Korea with TB and other “illness’” they couldn’t cure. Even with that knowledge, I never forgot the haunted look in the eyes of those men. I also never forgot the nightmares when their eyes would visit me in my warm childhood bed.

But I grew up. I went to war and returned.  Now my children have children of their own.

The memory of that ugly place has never gone away.

Dance With Me

I recently read there has been a film made about a romance between a solder and a “taxi” dance set in Honolulu during WWII. I really want to see this because of my own experiences while working the Hotel Street area during my years as a police officer.

In the middle of Maunakea street, between N. Pauhi and Hotel Street, on the ground floor, was a small coffee shop that served hamburgers, sandwiches, plate lunches and coffee until 5 am, just down the block was Tin Tin Chop Suey,  which was next door to the Busy Bee “XXX” theater, and these were right below the Palace and Orchid Ballrooms.

Like most places open at that time of night, and located in this area, the food at either eatery wouldn’t kill you, and with Tin Tin was actually good. Tin Tin was often the chosen meeting place for members of Organized crime and their entourages looking for a late night supper.

The Busy Bee showed “Deep Throat”, “The Devil In Miss Jones”, and other porn movies, non-stop, for years. The same ones over and over. But there always seemed to be someone there.

Now, upstairs was a true bit of history. There were the Orchid and Palace “Ballrooms”. Picture a room almost half a block long, maybe two thirds as wide, with a band right dead in the middle. But you could cross back and forth, or go to the snack bar in the back. They were staffed with mostly young Filipino and Korean girls. Some of the girls were military wives trying to make a little money while their husband was deployed. These were what used to be called “taxi” dance halls. You paid for the time you spent “dancing” with the lady of your choice. You could spend the time talking with her, or dancing with her, but when you were done, you had to pay up. And, no hanky panky on the ballroom floor. Well okay, maybe just a little.

Your dances were counted by “Momma”. At each end of the ballroom, there was a desk mounted on the wall, there sat the evening Momma. She watched who was dancing with who, counted the dances, and then signaled the girl how many tokens or tickets she needed to collect from her partner.

The dances were counted by the number of songs the band played while you were with the lady of your choice. Since most of the songs were 1-3 minutes, it could add up really quick. Tickets were probably .25 to .50 cents at that time, or you could buy a token good for 5 or 6 songs for a couple of bucks.

But it was the patrons that always got my attention.

On a Friday or Saturday night the old Filipino men would come in to dance. Most of them had been born in the Philippine Islands and had come to Hawaii to work the sugar or pineapple fields. This was their time to cut loose.

They would wear their “Sunday best ,  brightly colored leisure suits that only old Filipino men could get away with wearing, for these were special nights out and it sometimes appeared they all knew each other. From the fields or from the ballroom, I was never sure. I certainly wish I had taken the time to sit and talk with some of them because I know there were some incredible stories in those groups.

Many of them were probably WWII veterans of the Philippine Island campaign’s and would have some stories to tell anyone that would sit and listen. Even if they had to pay.

The ballrooms were still open and operating during the 70’s and possibly into the early 80’s. Sometime in the late 70’s they became the meeting place for several young Samoan and Filipino gangs. They caused some trouble and started  fights on the dance floors and this created very hostile atmosphere. Fewer and fewer customers showed up and more and more young men just standing around talking were there. Nobody was making any money.

Eventually, these gangs were “encouraged”  to find other meeting places by several old time members of Honolulu O.C. who considered the ballrooms some sort of neutral grounds.

But the damage had already been done. The ballrooms eventually closed down and then the gentrification of downtown began.

But these are stories for another time.

 

Aloha Burt

Just came across the wire, legendary actor Burt Reynolds has passed.

He will be remembered for his “Smokey and the Bandit”, “The longest Yard”, “Deliverance” and many others.

Don Williams, the gentle giant of country music, once penned the lines;                         “..and if you see Burt Reynolds, would you shake his hand for me? And tell Ol’ Burt, I’ve seen all his movies.”

I always enjoyed Reynolds work, with “Sharkey’s Machine” and “Hustle” among my all movie favorites.

Well, whoever is at the gates when he gets there, shake his hand for me.

He was 82.

 

Free Air Space…Between My Ears

Pole Dancer Hired For School First Day celebration. In China. What the headline doesn’t tell you, it was the first day at a nursery school and it was a stripper type pole dancer. It also related parent were complaining. To me, this ranks right up the with “Drag Queen Story Hour” in America. Oh, and didn’t China crack down of “funeral strippers”? A girl has got to make a living.

Recently saw the newest Lara Croft movie. Not bad, for it’s genre. But it reminds me of the “Modesty Blaise” books and comic strips of the 60’s and 70’s. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” with Angie and Brad was almost good enough to be a Blaise movie. The 60’s version movie “Modesty Blaise” was horse crap, ; the 2004 “My Name Is Modesty” was a well filmed, acceptably acted “prequel” that could have launched a whole series of movies. If you like fairly lighthearted spy stories, try Modesty Blaise,

A recent study of the “freedom” of states caught my eye. It measured just about everything from taxes, transportation, local government interference, ease of running a business, and things that make a “free” society. Guess where Hawaii ranked.  Come on, guess…… We ranked right above New York, which was ranked 50th. Yep, Hawaii is one of the least “free” states. Is anybody surprised?

Warren (Elizabeth) Mounts Blitz Insisting Cherokee Claims Never Helped Her. So I guess it’s  okay to lie as long as it doesn’t help. Or, it’s okay to lie because nobody believed it anyway.