Coffee Chronicles... and Not That One, McCroc!!

B. Hill & I go back over 40 years (yikes), and my back hurts from carrying him LOL. He will regale you with stories about how he and Flo-Jo were a thing, how he made Carl Lewis cry when he beat him in a foot race...the truth is he's much closer in age to Jesse Owens, and they trained together.

Whaddup Java Drinkers?

The other day, texts started flying around the mobile phones of old Lennox folks. Some of the phones were indeed old, but in this case, I'm referring to the owners of the phones. If you think the iPhone 6 has cobwebs on it, you can rest assured that the owner of that device has some grey hair and a doctor's appointment in the recent past and upcoming future, I can assure you.

Well, anyway, it would seem that Al Ortiz got a little nostalgic and teary-eyed and decided to pull us all together for what we now hope will become a thing. He noted that we’d lost a few people recently, notably the OSS legend Herb Giron and another Lennox alum, Vic Lopez. Father Time is indeed undefeated. 

I believe there were almost twenty of us at El Pollo Inka, an important landmark to most Lennox peeps, because many of us survived on the #20 specials back in the 80s when we scarfed down fast food between hot calls and back set detentions with abandon. Back when we had no worries about our cholesterol levels, waist size, or GERD. The famous one that we used to frequent was in Lawndale, which is important, because when I told Cmdr. McCroc that he had a chance to meet up at a gathering with his old team at El Pollo Inka, he polished up his Commander stars, straightened up his favorite pinkie ring, and headed toward Lawndale to get his vittles. 

Hey McCroc! Did ya read the text? It gave the address clearly as the Torrance location, sir. If you take a closer look, you'll notice that it was underlined. Never mind the fact that Al got the date wrong on three separate tries. How in the world are you gonna expect your former minions (the Commander’s term, not mine) to give the proper genuflect, bow, and kiss the ring if you're at the wrong restaurant? Or is it bow, genuflect, and then kiss the ring?  I always get the order mixed up. Anyway, we finally got the Cmdr. headed to the correct location.

Of course, like any proper police reunion, we all met for briefing in the parking lot, behind our cars just like in the old days, as if we were setting up for an operation or warrant service. Exchanging hugs, guffaws, and stories about the old days. Some of the stories were even true.

Present were, in no particular order, and I hope I don’t forget anyone: Al Ortiz, the ringleader, George Sakabu, Greg Lewison, Chris Bowman, Brent White, Martin Mercado, “Mac” McKendry, Karen Shonka, Governor “The Gov” Davis, Jeff Cale, Brian Hill, Doug Kimura, Don Young, Robin Sawyer, Ron Sanner, Marcos Escalante, and Joey Stoker (dang, I hope I didn't forget anyone, my apologies if I did). Of course, I already told you that Cmdr. McCoc was there, and, of course, Your Hero, because how else could I document the goings on?

Speaking of stories being told, when I arrived at the briefing circle in the parking lot, and as I walked around greeting and hugging my old partners, I came to Brent White, who was last in line, and whose face I admittedly didn't recognize, but whose name I surely did. Look, can I get a pass? It has been 30 years, for the love of Pete! 

Brent smiled at me. Shook my hand warmly, and said, “Oh boy! Have I gotta story for you!” He then faded into the crowd, much like that meme of Homer Simpson backing into the hedge until he's no longer visible. Oh c'mon! You've seen that one, right? 

I bet you have now! Admit it! You just Googled Homer Simpson, hedge, and meme, didn’t you? 

I have a confession. Brent had my curiosity piqued, because well, it is usually I who is the storyteller. I'm not used to being one-upped. 

About five minutes later, Brent reappeared next to me, like some sort of magician or ghost or something. Dang! How did he do that? It was a little unnerving, but in a way, I was glad he was back. I just love a good story.

So Brent started his tale… “So this one day, I was working with Zimmerman.”

Oh snap! My mind wandered a bit because of what I remembered about Zimmerman — whoooo boy! His career ended. Badly. And that's where my mind went for a second.

“Dammit! Focus, Hero!” I told myself, "Brent's telling you a story!"

“... and we get a return to the station for prisoner transport,” Brent continued. “We got to the station, and the desk tells us we have to transport this older, Black, female, heroin addict to SBI.”

“We get her out of holding and into our backseat, but she has this huge bump on her forehead over her eye.” Brent used his left hand to simulate the size of the orange-sized bump over his left eye that he saw on his detainee's forehead. “... I mean, dude, she could barely see out of this eye!”

Ohhh, I imagined how much blood it would take to fill a contusion that size. I winced at the thought. Apparently, Brent wasn’t worried about the fact that we were getting ready to eat and assumed that his description wasn’t going to spoil my appetite. Oh, don’t worry, it didn’t, just like the old days.

“We couldn't take her straight to SBI. We had to get her MT'ed.” (She had to be medically cleared before being booked at the women's jail). “So we headed to LCMC,” (formerly General Hospital, now LAC USC, whatever….let me continue), he said.

“… we got to the hospital and we’re in the exam room with the doctor across the room, at the eye chart pointing at the letters, Zimmereman and me in the back, next to our handcuffed detainee.”

I still hadn’t grasped where Brent was going with this story. But I was riveted. The story was getting good, and sounded like possible Chronicle material.

“At first, she wasn’t getting it, so Zimmerman coached her a bit.” 

Zimmerman whispered to their in-custody, “E-M-O-H-Z…”

The lady hype repeated to the doctor, “E-M-O-H-Z…”

“Doc said she passed, so we were off again. SBI, here we come. But Zimm and I couldn’t help ourselves. Zimmerman asked the hype, ‘Sooooo, what happened to your eye?’” 

The lady hype said, “I got it in the crash.” 

It's at this point that the light bulb over my head started to illuminate. “HOLE-LEE SMOKES! You mean to tell me she went to SBI?!?!” I exclaimed to Brent with incredulity.

Look, in my defense, I thought she got Bee-One’d (released) and I never knew she had a coco on the coconut. Yikes.

Brent and I looked at one another and simultaneously said, “How in the world didn’t we (meaning me) take her to the hospital?!?” 

Police work in the 80s. AMIRIGHT?

Basically, it was like growing up in the 60s, riding around in the back of pickups with your friends, and no seatbelt or helmet laws. How did we survive?

For those of you late to the Chronicles or a little confused about which crash she was referring to, you’re gonna need to check the archives for the Chronicle where I tell you about the time my training officer, Andy Lee and I got into a itty-bitty, little fender bender on Vermont Ave as we were raced to some life and death incident to help Superman and Batman battle the Penguin, Lex Luther, and then that other arch villain, Sergeant Sailorman, got involved.

C’mon people, I’m gonna need you to pay attention.

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em

#coffeehousechronicles