Big John, a self-made millionaire, lived beachfront on Gordon Drive. A rebel, he reminded many of a sane Howard Hughes. John liked to drink but not at exclusive clubs that pandered to the rich. John was a common man, and gravitated to The Anchor, a downtown dive since replaced by, what else, a Walgreen's.
Because of his earthy leanings, Big John wasn't a favorite with some of his snobbish Gordon Drive and Port Royal neighbors. And there was another small thing that ticked them off: his menagerie. He'd converted his estate into a zoo, off sorts. He had saltwater pools with Dolphins, sea turtles, and seals. Among his collection was a Galapagos tortoise, a dwarf burro, and a kangaroo type critter called a wallaby.
A lover of children, he opened his estate to families each Wednesday. This alone caused some neighbors to despise him. Allowing the great unwashed masses to encroach on our sanctum sanctorum. These were the crybabies who called us incessantly about people on their beach, or a suspicious vehicle--anything that wasn't a Rolls, Caddy, or Lincoln.
Then there were the seals that barked all night long, prompting enraged calls to the NPD, which caused Big John to laugh and throw the noisy critters another fish.
We, the cops, loved him. There were many good folks in Port Royal that supported PAL and the police. But there were a lotta politically powerful dicks, too, and John stuck it to them when we couldn't always do it ourselves.
Big John's animals had a bad habit of escaping. His swans would magically leave the zoo confines, during mating season, and uproot neighbor's elegant flower beds, making a nest. His burro liked to walk down the beach to the City Pier, munching landscaping on the way. Finally, his neighbors complained to sympathetic puppets on the City Council and pressure was put on John to get rid of the zoo. Bad move!
Shortly thereafter, John went to The Anchor, about midnight, and announced that his wallaby had escaped in Port Royal and he was offering a $100 reward for its return. In five minutes every stumbling drunk was weaving down Gordon Drive. Some stopped off to call their buddies to join the search party. In short order there were more than 100.
Soon, our switchboard was flooded with calls from outraged aristocrats claiming there were drunks in their yard yelling Here wallaby. And some climbing trees, thinking perhaps the Wallaby was a roosting animal. Or searching their cabin cruisers, looking for a nautical species.
It was a very busy evening for the NPD in Port Royal. But we loved it.
Big John kept his zoo until his untimely death. Rest in peace, my hero.
Because of his earthy leanings, Big John wasn't a favorite with some of his snobbish Gordon Drive and Port Royal neighbors. And there was another small thing that ticked them off: his menagerie. He'd converted his estate into a zoo, off sorts. He had saltwater pools with Dolphins, sea turtles, and seals. Among his collection was a Galapagos tortoise, a dwarf burro, and a kangaroo type critter called a wallaby.
A lover of children, he opened his estate to families each Wednesday. This alone caused some neighbors to despise him. Allowing the great unwashed masses to encroach on our sanctum sanctorum. These were the crybabies who called us incessantly about people on their beach, or a suspicious vehicle--anything that wasn't a Rolls, Caddy, or Lincoln.
Then there were the seals that barked all night long, prompting enraged calls to the NPD, which caused Big John to laugh and throw the noisy critters another fish.
We, the cops, loved him. There were many good folks in Port Royal that supported PAL and the police. But there were a lotta politically powerful dicks, too, and John stuck it to them when we couldn't always do it ourselves.
Big John's animals had a bad habit of escaping. His swans would magically leave the zoo confines, during mating season, and uproot neighbor's elegant flower beds, making a nest. His burro liked to walk down the beach to the City Pier, munching landscaping on the way. Finally, his neighbors complained to sympathetic puppets on the City Council and pressure was put on John to get rid of the zoo. Bad move!
Shortly thereafter, John went to The Anchor, about midnight, and announced that his wallaby had escaped in Port Royal and he was offering a $100 reward for its return. In five minutes every stumbling drunk was weaving down Gordon Drive. Some stopped off to call their buddies to join the search party. In short order there were more than 100.
Soon, our switchboard was flooded with calls from outraged aristocrats claiming there were drunks in their yard yelling Here wallaby. And some climbing trees, thinking perhaps the Wallaby was a roosting animal. Or searching their cabin cruisers, looking for a nautical species.
It was a very busy evening for the NPD in Port Royal. But we loved it.
Big John kept his zoo until his untimely death. Rest in peace, my hero.
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