Coffee House ChroniclesThe Retiree Lunch Bunch Edition
Happy Sunday, Chroniclers. You got yer cup? Okay, here's a new one.
This episode is about me and a few of my retired buddies.
I don't know what it is about retirees, but we love getting together for breakfast and lunch. It's always breakfast and lunch, never dinner. I'm guessing that's because by about 2:30 we're all feeling the need for a nap, and bedtime usually rolls around at about 8:15.
I'm not sure if these retiree get-togethers are unique to people from our former profession, but it sure seems that we enjoy gathering to talk about the not-so-bad old days. Some of the stories even contain some morsels of truth.
My pals in the South Bay occasionally drag me out to Torrance for lunch at El Pollo Inka. Then there are the lunches with the HB's former coworkers, many of whom probably assume I worked at IRC too since I was there so often. For the record, I did not. Technically, I was only assigned temporarily there when the BOS flexed their muscles and put a hiring freeze into effect that caused us at the “Bureau” Yeah, we call it the “Bureau” also, similar to the other “Bureau” that those guys in the green pajamas and the long guns worked. If you polled us, we would say that the training bureau was the “Bureau” too. But I digress.
If I miss one of those IRC breakfasts, they're always asking the HB, "Hey, where's our hero?"
Recently, I attended another reunion lunch with friends I worked with way back in the early and mid-1980s at the MCJ.
The regular cast of characters includes Kirby Wong, Harry Van, Vic Allende, and John “Jack” Carey. The elder statesmen, or as I like to call them, the big wigs, are John Franklin and Mike Smilor. Mike is the guy who originated the group and keeps it all together. He's the glue.
Whenever the group of us gets together, Smilor inevitably begins telling stories about John Franklin. I compared the Franklin-Smilor relationship to my Commander McCroc stories. If you ask Smilor, he'll gladly explain how many times he saved Franklin's life and the countless occasions he personally rescued Franklin's career.
According to Mike, John never would have reached the heights he achieved in the Department without Mike paving the road, clearing the brush, and holding his hand every step of the way.
John, for his part, retired in 2009 and claims he's still searching for several of his old signature stamps. He says three or four of them are still missing.
Harry Van says that's not a problem.
Apparently Harry perfected Franklin's signature years ago.
Franklin and Smilor were allegedly so busy roaming the facility looking for overtime slips to sign that Harry took it upon himself to sign them for them.
Speaking of Harry, he's a serious vintage timepiece collector, and his collection is one to be envied.
According to Franklin, Harry received his first Timex directly from television legend John Cameron Swayze. Rumor has it Harry refused to wash that hand for an entire month after shaking Swayze's hand.
As attention started drifting away from him, Smilor did what Smilor does.
When Jack Carey and John Franklin pulled out their phones to compare photos of children and grandchildren, Smilor wasn't about to be outdone. Out came his phone, along with pictures of his boat and his son's boat.
Both vessels, according to Smilor, are capable of an eye-watering 110 mph.
I only have one question.
Where exactly do you need to go on Lake Havasu at 110 mph?
I'm asking for a friend.
Speaking of stories, Smilor recalled a time when the jail was running out of office space. The brass decided the roof of the four-level parking structure might be the perfect place to install portable offices. Few people parked up there anyway. The sun was brutal, and levels one through three handled most of the parking for both CJ and IRC personnel.
Bob Knapp took several people to the roof to survey the area and determine where the portables would sit and how they would be craned into place.
During the inspection, Knapp noticed a yellow extension cord plugged into a rooftop outlet. The cord disappeared into the stairwell and ran down two levels.
Naturally, curiosity took over.
Following the cord led them to a camper shell.
Not attached to a pickup.
Just the camper shell.
It was sitting on six cinder blocks and three pallets, neatly tucked beneath a stairwell, perfectly positioned beside an emergency exit. Apparently, if your apartment is under a parking structure stairwell, you still want convenient access to the front door.
The occupant?
Ray Romero.
As it turned out, Ray was going through a divorce and had quietly moved into his approximately 90-square-foot luxury suite.
Nobody knows exactly how long the camper shell had been there.
Ray showered in the locker room, shaved in the locker room, and remained perpetually available whenever Scheduling needed someone to fill an overtime vacancy.
This was before cell phones.
All Smilor had to do was walk upstairs, knock on the camper shell, and say:
"Hey Ray, I got a spot for you."
The mystery of how Ray managed to max out on overtime while never seeming to be very far from work was finally solved.
Eventually, Knapp summoned Smilor to his office.
Completely unaware of the reason for the meeting, Smilor sat down.
Knapp looked over the top of his glasses and said:
"Mike... I know that you know. And now you know that I know."
Then he delivered the verdict.
"He's got three days to get that thing out of the parking structure."
And that was the beginning of the end for Ray's penthouse suite.
His downfall?
The necessity of a popcorn maker.
As the lunch wrapped up, we exchanged handshakes, bro hugs, and promises to do it again soon.
When I got to John Franklin, however, things took a slightly different turn.
I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Before anybody starts talking, I immediately explained that it wasn't from me.
It was from the HB.
John had been her background investigator and the man who hired her. She has always had a special place in her heart for him.
After I explained the situation, Franklin seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement.
In fact, he suggested I go ahead and give him another one.
Until next time, Chroniclers...
You know what to do.
Drink 'em if you got 'em.
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