On the road
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
March 2011 Dallas Police Shield,Back in the Day
March 2011 Dallas Police Shield, Back in the Day
Decompression. That’s what I called the first year of my retirement. It was tough. One day you’re somebody that people respect, the next day you’re a civilian that at one time was somebody. I looked around and not having or wanting another job, and being relatively young, I had a hard time with the job of being retired.
Police are famous for gallows humor. While around our friends at work, it was easy to laugh off things we had done and seen that day. Yeah we’re cops and we can handle it. But I remember when “Psyche Services” was a big deal with the DPD. If the job got to you, you had somewhere to turn, and talk with someone who understood. It was made up of current officers with degrees in counseling and Dr. Al. We always had a great respect for these officers and Dr. Al who listened to everybody’s problems. And there were lots of problems. We just didn’t talk about it among our buddies.
I just finished the book on Senator John McCain’s life. In part, he wrote that while at Annapolis, and again in the North Vietnamese prison camps, if another serviceman didn’t show enough “grease,” he was just not one of the boys. You had to do what was right and not complain. It was only during the dark days of imprisonment that some men broke. By then no one could fault them. It was like the officers I knew back in the day. You rarely admitted that you had ever been scared.
But do you ever dream of your time with the DPD? I rarely do, but I think about it a lot during the day. I’ll see a building in East Dallas and think about a disturbance call there. I ‘m running up the stairs in July 1977 sweating in my ill fitting first generation vest, hearing banging and shouting as me and my trainer get to the top and confront two people about to kill each other. Or running at night through a vacant lot after a burglar, tripping and landing hard on an elbow that still hurts sometimes after 30 years. Yes, we all have hundreds of stories.
Riding and sweating in the SWAT van to a narcotics raid, trying to remember what the diagram of the inside of the house looks like. The SWAT guys nervously looking at each other in the darkened vehicle, and trying not to look too concerned. Jumping out, running towards the crack house, and thinking that the front of the place looks nothing like what the narcotics officer described. We all have thousands of memories.
Riding that old, non ABS, old technology Kawasaki police motorcycle at high speed during an escort, especially at night. Things happening way too fast. The headlights were bad, brakes nominal. We have those thoughts too sometimes.
They all came back when I retired. Funny how that works. But when I left the DPD, and was so engulfed in the exit process, maybe I missed someone telling me that there is a post retirement counselor that a retiree could sit and talk to. I must have missed that one.
Anyway, thank the Lord that I discovered church after retirement; I admittedly hadn’t been much since my kids were small. It sometimes comes back during some of the services, and yes, a tear or two wells up. But I still keep it to myself.
But one thing we do have are our retiree lunches, and breakfasts. These times are beneficially on many levels. We see old friends and even old enemies (LOL) that you may not have seen in years. We tell stories, bounce ideas off each other, relate how much better the DPD was when WE were there, all the hundreds of stories, and thousands of memories that come back when we least expect it. We defer still somewhat to the Sergeants, Lieutenants, and Chiefs. That never seems to go away completely. The quiet guys are still quiet, and usually sit off to the side, until someone says to come over and sit with us! And the officer’s who were always the center of attention at work, are still the center of attention. And they make sure that they are!
Yes, there is that old saying, “We are all we have.” It still has meaning.
Thanks to retiree Gary Price for the kind letter. He explained the three lines of the old DPD door decal meant Loop 12, Beltline Road, and 635. Good hearing from you!
Thanks also to Rufus High #1206. He referred to last month’s article about reporters at 106. One reporter was Johnny Rutledge. Allan Bull communicated that he also knew this reporter in the 80’s while in Capers. He mentioned that cameraman Terry Van Sickle was a good guy as well. Another reporter Rufus wrote about was Jim Ewell whom I believe is the one that I remember from the 70’s. Rufus mentions a one-armed newspaper deliveryman who rode a three wheeled motorcycle (Harley or Indian probably) that delivered newspapers downtown. Interesting! Thanks to all three writers.
W.H.Croom, II #3973
DPD Retired
Dmntia1995@aol.com
www.asylummobilitarium.blogspot.com
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
March 2011 Asylum Mobilitarium for Hogwash
March 2011 Asylum Mobilitarium
When does a rider become a “motorcyclist,” and not just a “motorcycle owner?” Huh? When does one become a motorcyclist? Is that different from being a so-called “biker.”
Back in the mid to late nineties, a bunch of us would hit Blue Goose on Lower Greenville, and Strokers (was called Easyriders then) on most Sundays. We would drink beer, check out the scoots and the new soon to be ex-girlfriends or wives of our buddies, and watch to see who could fly off Blue Goose’s sidewalk to blast northbound on Greenville!
I guess in my naivety and inexperience I thought I was a biker or something along those lines. Being a motorcyclist was not a goal of mine. Most of the guys I rode with didn’t care either. But you know, most of those guys got married, divorced, married again, and sometimes gave up their Harley because the new main squeeze wanted a family instead of having an American icon sitting in their garage.
I rode to Harley-Davidson’s 95th anniversary in 1998 and began to realize that there was something more to this than a vehicle to go bar hopping. More and more I quit hanging out, stupidly drinking way too much and started doing more serious riding. It became a lifestyle. But, I’ll admit, it took years.
It’s like I said last month, and please remember this, riding a motorcycle is all about karma and especially prayer. That’s what brought me through the chaos. If God rides a motorcycle, I think it will be a Harley-Davidson.
But what is the difference between a motorcycle owner, a motorcyclist, or a biker? I don’t know for sure, but I know one when I see one.
Okay, another month of motorcycle words of wisdom. Yes, a bar-hopper is just that, the rider goes from bar to bar, and parks the bike until the next weekends’ putt. A “putt” is a usually a short ride on a bike. Brand X is any motorcycle not a Harley-Davidson. British and German bikes are accepted in the world of the Orange and Black. Not so much bikes from Asia, since old-timers see those companies as trying (and almost succeeded) to run Harley-Davidson out of business in the 60’s and 70’s. Never forget! It could happen again.
A clone is a HD lookalike sold by Brand X companies. Willie G has said it’s the ultimate form of flattery.
A V-Twin can describe a HD engine. Our Twin Cam engines are 45 degrees, except the V-Rod’s dynamic Porsche designed, Revolution engine, which is 60 degrees. By the way VRSC stands for Racing Street Custom.
A boxer is a BMW engine. Fork stops should never be cut off. An eye brow is that thing over a Sportster’s headlight. A sissy bar is now back in fashion, engine guards are just that, don’t call them or expect them to be crash guards. Drag bars are short handlebars that were popular at one time and will probably come back. Ape hangers are also again in fashion, but know how to ride before you install them. Peanut tanks were once in style on Sportster’s, then not, now again you see them at dealerships.
Tombstone and Beehive taillights were produced in the 30’s and 40’s and have been brought back by the company a few times. So too is the Springer front end. It’s all there was until 1948. Harley brought back the new and improved Springer front forks in the 90’s, and are still popular today.
The three wheeled Servi-Car was produced until 1973. It was somewhat brought back a couple of years ago with the cool Tri-Glide. A tank shifter on a Harley was usually on the left. On Indian bikes, it was on the right. The reason Indian did this is because they thought that police officers would use their right hand to shoot bad guys from their mounts. Sure enough, Harley stepped up and also offered this reverse set up as an option to police departments, who were HD’s saving grace in the 1930’s Depression era.
A few causes for concern. A smoking Toyota with bad tags and inspection is to be avoided, ditto a person driving a Killer Mommy Van. Avoid old Buicks, plus Bubba and Praline heading home from their favorite watering hole in a truck. Stay away from Brad who lives in Up Town in the new Shelby Mustang that he just purchased with an 8 year loan.
But for sure never get within 300 feet from Madison or some other person named for a city that is driving and texting, or just saying OMG every fifth word to their BFF on the cell.
Willie Hank
Asylummobilitarium.blogspot.com
Youths Led Astray 1955
Friday, February 4, 2011
Top ten reasons
Top ten reasons Harley Riders don’t wave 10. - Afraid it will invalidate warranty. 9. - Leather and studs make it too hard to raise arm. 8. - Refuses to wave to anyone whose bike is already paid for. 7. - Afraid to let go of the handlebars because they might vibrate off. 6. - Rushing wind would blow scabs off the new tattoos. 5. - Angry because just took out second mortgage to pay luxury tax on new Harley. 4. - Just discovered the fine print in owner's manual and realized H-D is partially owned by those rice-burner manufacturers. 3. - Can't tell if other riders are waving or just reaching to cover their ears like everyone else. 2. - Remembers the last time a Harley rider waved back, he impaled his hand on spiked helmet. 1 - They're jealous that after spending $20,000, they still don't own a Gold Wing. Top ten reasons Goldwing riders don’t wave 10. - Wasn't sure whether other rider was waving or making an obscene gesture. 9. - Afraid might get frostbite if hand is removed from heated grip. 8. - Has arthritis and the past 400 miles have made it difficult to raise arm. 7. - Reflection from etched windshield momentarily blinded him. 6. - The expresso machine just finished. 5. - Was actually asleep when other rider waved. 4. - Was in a three-way conference call with stock broker and accessories dealer. 3. - Was distracted by odd shaped blip on radar screen. 2. - Was simultaneously adjusting the air suspension, seat height, programmable CD player, seat temperature and satellite navigation system. 1. - Couldn't find the "auto wave back" button on the dashboard. Top ten reasons BMW riders don’t wave 10. New Aerostich suit too stiff to raise arm. 9. Removing a hand from the bars is considered "bad form." 8. Shoulder too stiff from camping on the ground the night before. 7. Too sore from an 800-mile day on a stock "comfort" seat. 6. Too busy programming the GPS, monitoring radar, listening to ipod, XM, or talking on the cell phone. 5. He's an Iron Butt rider and you're not!. 4. Wires from Gerbings is too short. 3. You're not riding the "right kind" of BMW. 2. You haven't been properly introduced. And the number one reason... 1. Afraid it will be misinterpreted as a friendly gesture. |
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Tuesday, January 18, 2011
February 2011 Asylum Mobilitarium
February 2011 Asylum Mobilitarium
I saw a conversation on Facebook the other day talking about vests, jackets, patches and pins. Motorcycle regalia is not an exclusive Harley thing. Other motorcycle companies put out their own style of clothing and metal pins and cloth patches. But nobody does it better than Harley-Davidson.
Yes, I’ve heard over the years from biker types that they don’t need no badges; I mean pins and other means of telling other riders where you’ve been and what you’ve done. That’s their choice, but it’s those bits of history that you attach to your vest that is just another part of the Harley lifestyle. All I can say is if you are a new rider, buy a sewing matching that can sew through leather; it will save you lots of money in the long run!
This is another in a tongue and cheek series on getting into the Harley-Davidson lifestyle.
When you ride a Harley –Davidson motorcycle, don’t wear white tennis shoes. It’s common on other brands but it’s just safer to wear boots my friend. Vintage is always correct, new looks just that, new. On the other hand it would be wrong to buy a biker jacket on E-Bay with scrapes and tears that are not of your making. It’s just bad karma. Matter of fact, everything in the motorcycle world is about karma. And prayer.
As in running in 10k races, don’t wear a rally t-shirt at the rally you currently find yourself attending! If you wear a dealer t-shirt from a place you haven’t been, announce loudly in any social situation that “This is a t-shirt of shame!” Then you’ll be okay. A doo rag is to keep your hair and sweat out of your face. A really faded one shows that you had it in the nineties when the helmet law went away, and everyone threw their helmets away. Well, for a time anyway. Then common sense and seeing a bunch of wrecks along the way changed our minds.
Have you noticed that many riders, ones that are known to have ridden many years and have “seen the elephant,” usually wear helmets? They have been there and done that. But go to Duke’s on many Sundays and you will she many newer riders braving the hot sun on their recently divorced, now I have a Harley and a hot chick, bald heads. Make your own informed choice.
A “Clubman” hat was popular in the forties and fifties. A pogo seat had a spring in a tube running vertical on the bikes frame that was your shock absorber in the days before rear tube shocks. A cheese grader was a bumper looking attachment that was popular in the chrome laden fifties.
Schott leather jackets are the coolest vintage motorcycle jackets, if you can find one. Brando wore one in the movie “The Wild One.” A kidney belt was the wide leather belt usually with metal studs that riders wore years ago. It supposedly kept your insides intact without the rear shocks that were common on early bikes.
The commonly referred to 1%, outlaw, or three patch clubs are different than a HOG group. HOG has been around since 1983, and is the largest motorcycle organization in the world. HOG is called a “social riding organization.” That’s the difference.So there you go. A clubhouse is what we don’t have. The term “church” is used by some mc clubs to describe their club’s meetings. Getting whacked is what we don’t do either.
A basket case is a project motorcycle in many parts, waiting to be put back together by some stalwart motorcycle person. A bike in a barn is sometimes a basket case, sometimes not. Many times these bikes are up in the rafters of a barn. It seems that farmers back in the day, when their sons or daughters started terrorizing the countryside on their bikes, had the bikes hoisted up high so the kids could not get to them. Then they were forgotten many times. Thus, “Barn Find!”
Willie Hank
Panther Creek historian
Youths Gone Astray since 1955
February 2011 Dallas Police Sheild, Back in the Day
February 2011 Shield Back in the Day
Recently on the retiree Yahoo group site, there has been a bunch of talk about characters that were a daily part of the lives of Dallas police in the sixties and beyond.
One guy was well known to many. If you called him Mr. Cunningham, you would do okay. But if you were say a rookie, and made the mistake of calling him “Alley Oop” or just “Oop,” well watch out! It seems that he was a prize fighter back in his salad days, and was still in good shape when I remember him as late as 2001 or so. The really strange thing was that he actually drank gasoline. Sometimes you might see him trying to pour that last drop of gas from a closed stations gas hose. He used a milk container to collect the gas.
But again, if you made the mistake of not calling him Mr. Cunningham, you might have a fight on your hands. He mostly hung around Central division.
Sadly, I heard that this Central hall of famer died a few years ago. I would be interested in hearing what he died of. Obviously his diet of petroleum didn’t do him in.
Other divisions had their own type of strange folks, but Central claimed “Oop” as ours!
Police work is all about good guys, bad guys, and “exceptional” people as they were once called. Being “exceptional” was a code for just about any weird person an officer would run into out on the streets. I wonder if the DPD still uses that term?
We of course used to encounter folks acting crazy as DPD officers do today. That’s police work. I would tend to ask the guy, “Are you just crazy or just drunk?” Nine times out of ten they would say crazy. Most were a little of both.
There was a writer for the Dallas Morning News in the 1940’s named Ken Hand. His column was called “Last Night on the Police Beat.”
I’ve read some of his work and it’s always interesting and sometimes amusing. These were not the stories of a serious nature for the most part, but the day to day activities that showed being a police officer was one of the most interesting professions that one could and can do.
I’d like to know where Mr. Hand got his stories. Did he hang around 106 like another newspaperman I remember from the late 1970’s? This particular guy that I remember wore a suit, and always had on the Stetson style western hat that the detectives wore in those days. As a young rookie, I thought he was a police officer. He seemed to be trusted by the plain clothes officers at 106, since if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be hanging around for long.
We all should remember Chief Carl Hansson. He was the longest serving police chief in Dallas. He served from the 1940’s until Chief Curry in the early sixties. He also created our badge numbering system that we have today. I’m not sure this is correct, but I read on a retirees post that Chief Hansson didn’t get along with legendary Homicide Captain Will Fritz. It might have had to with the status and popularity of Captain Fritz. I’d like to know from someone out there if this was true.
I found a story from the DMN from 1941 when Chief Hansson was a sergeant. A woman that lived at 3600 San Jacinto called the police late one night because she thought a burglar was in her house. Officers E.D. Jordan and J.C.Sanders arrived to investigate. Sergeant Hansson also showed up and with guns drawn the three intrepid men searched the house. They burst into the room that all the banging was coming from and found the family cat with a sardine can which the animal couldn’t extricate himself or herself from. Sergeant Hansson was taken to the Emergency Hospital with some evil looking scratches from the attacking cat. The officers were apparently amused and unhurt. Okay, what’s wrong with this picture?
The cat was taken to the fire station at Ross and Leonard where tin snips were used to free the cat from the can. Okay you can breathe now.
One night in January 1941 Officer A.N. Boggs was basically making a nuisance of himself by continually asking the dispatcher to “Go ahead.” The dispatcher was getting more and more disgusted with the officer which as we all know is not a good thing, especially when you want to check out to eat. Finally, for the sixteenth time, the dispatcher asked Boggs “What do you want?” Boggs answered that he thought that the dispatcher was calling him! Later it was heard “Houston squad 71 go ahead.” They were hearing the Houston police department all along. Funny, I remember hearing Houston from time to time myself on the DPD police radio.
As we’ve seen in this column before, the DPD lost a lot of officers just before and during WWII. The motorcycle unit was done away with only a few bikes left still in service for escorts, funerals and the like. Lt. A.N. Vittrup had to explain once again to patrol officers that they could not wear bow ties in place of the regular straight ties that officers wore. He said “I’ve seen some bow ties lately. Let me caution you that they are not regulation. Bow ties have been abandoned except for motorcycle men. And motorcycles have been abandoned.”
I know the way motor jocks think, and I’ll bet that the ex jockeys in the detail room did not want to give up their bow ties even if they now found themselves in Patrol.
Ken Hand was a sort of self styled comedian. Or he thought he was! On January 1st 1941 he gave out his New Years greetings;
“A Happy Happy Arbor Day to the firm of Welch, Walsh, Rader, Fritz & Company.” Of course he was speaking of Chief J.M.Welch, Assistant Chief Douglas Walsh, and Inspectors Charles Rader and Will Fritz.
To the readers of this column-all three-a glorious Fourth of July. To the City Editor, a happy Whitsuntide. To Simon Legree, the night City Editor, a sprig of parsnips.
As we know, even kind of funny newspaper writers are a thing of the past.
W.H.Croom, II #3973
Dallas Police Retired
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Homer Lee Croom
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