MAYHEM-WHAT REALLY WORKS

Watching a Kung Fu movie recently caused me to recall the training in self defense we received in the Broward County Police Academy in Fort Lauderdale. Back when the text was carved on stone tablets. It was a combination of mixed martial arts, and come-along holds popular at the time. Remember Dave Dampier and I throwing each other around. And I particularly remember the last day of class.

"First rule," our coach, Payne N Misery, said, "is don't try any of this stuff unless you practice it diligently. My advice, unless you seriously want to study martial arts, is to pick up one or two favorite moves and practice them. For example kicking some puke's knee backwards, or dislocating his shoulder using a bar hammerlock."

This ain't the movies," he continued, "and you ain't Bruce Lee."

How right he was. In the movies the Kung Fu'ers kick and punch the hell outta each other and come right back for more. In real life, land a good ol' country boy sucker punch and the show's over.

And if this stuff is so great, why don't the dudes in the UFC mixed martial arts battles do any of these movie gyrations. Cause they'll get your butt broken unless you use them against someone who doesn't know how to fight.

Howsumever, after Payne had made his cautionary statement, he picked two recruits to try to get one man out of a car. The driver, a Ft Lauderdale cop, just offered resistance, no offensive moves. He held the wheel with both hands and the two recruits couldn't move him.

The instructor laughed and said, "Now, after all these weeks of text book self-defense training, I'm gonna show you what really works."

He moved to the car. "See the mustache on the driver, get a good hold on it and pull. He'll follow right behind it. And, a quick finger to the eye will get those hands loose from the steering wheel. And, a ear is a perfect handle. So's a finger in the mouth, like a fish hook pulling it sideways. These things work. But forget where you heard it."

These moves, and a few others, kept most of us out of the hospital. There were other cops who didn't need them. We'll look at a couple next time.

TOM T AND HOW IT'S NOT DONE

On the same show with Mel Tillis was Tom T. Hall. Tom was surfing the crest of his fame at the time and it must've made him seasick. He wobbled and bobbled, slurred his words, couldn't focus his eyes, and needed assistance walking. Some suspected he might've pigged out on too much liquid stupid.

He was in good enough shape to spot a Deputy's wife and ask her if she'd like to come in and look at the trailer is was waiting in. She quickly consented and studied the place for near an hour.

When they finally emerged from the trailer, it was time for Tom T to perform. He had to be walked to the stage by two Deputies like a drunk being escorted out of a barroom. Then he was lifted on to the stage. There, he staggered to center stage, mumbled some greetings and went into his first song. Sadly, he couldn't remember the words. Nor those to the second, or third songs. By then, the crowd had had enough and booed him off the stage.

I guess the high-point of Tom T's act, was before he even got on stage. That was all the Deputies waiting for the trailer peruser wife's husband, a Deputy working the event, to bust in the trailer and open up a can of Whoop Az. Never happened. Another Deputy explained why later. "I know his wife. He was probably glad to get rid of her sorry az for an hour or so."

Also, knowing the woman, it sounded reasonable to me.

PS-I saw Tom T later, in Tennessee. He was doing a free charity concert for our Sheriff's Department there. Country music stars regularly do that up in Tennessee. The same day we had Tom T we had George Jones, Jerry Lee Lewis, and David Allen Coe who all performed free. And Tom T, that day, was in much better shape. His act was first class.

JD SPOHN AND MMMMMMEL TILLIS

JD Spohn was an inveterate RV'er. And he had a Fiat with a rattan flat roof that he towed behind his motor home. Never seen another like it. Camping in Pahokee, he was stopped waiting for a light to change. The driver of a pickup truck stopped beside him yelled over that he admired the little Fiat and his boss would love to see it, too. JD told the driver where he was camping and asked who the driver's boss was. Mel Tillis, he was told. JD said bring him on by and they'd have a toddy or two.

Sure enough that evening up pulls Mel, with his driver. As expected he loved the little Fiat and offered JD good money for it but JD loved the little car too much to part with it. Later Mel broke out his guitar and began singing around the campfire. All the delighted nearby campers were treated to a free concert. Two elderly ladies, walking back from the rest rooms, could hear Mel singing, too.

One said to the other, "Listen to that fella sing. He sounds just like Mel Tillis."

"Nope," corrected the other, "I've heard Mel sing a dozen times. That fella's no where near as good as he is."

Mel and the campfire group could hear this and all had a good laugh.

Another time Mel and Tom T. Hall appeared at the old Swamp Buggy Track. It was some charity event and both the CCSO and NPD volunteered security for the concert. Unfortunately, Mel was suffering from the flu. His assistant told us, "Don't worry, he'll do the show. Mel's a tough old bird."

When time came, he came out of his bus, being supported by two men, and weaved to the back stage steps. There, the men boosted him up on stage, he straightened up, and walked to the mike. He said, "I hope you folks will excuse me tonight if I don't hit some of the high notes. I have a little cold." That said, his did his hour, with all the perfection one expects of a master. I doubt any member in the audience could tell how he was suffering.

His show over, he walked to the wings and collapsed. His assistants hurried him to the bus. One of the cops enquired, "Guess you're going to get him home to Pahokee for some bed rest."

"I wish," the assistant said. "He's playing Detroit day after tomorrow and we're on the road from here."

Always admired ol' Mel all the more after that. Can't say the same for Mr. Hall.

THE CIA INVADES PORT ROYAL

Naples old-timers may remember that at the end of Gordon Drive there was once a trailer park. One of my friends grew up there. And, along the water, across from Keeywadin Island, there was a collection of boat sheds, tin building, and other unsightly shacks that today, the mere sight of would cause the elegant Port Royal residents terminal apoplexy. Right after Fidel came to power, these abandoned buildings were commandeered by the CIA. Or some federal spook agency we could never identify.

It started with a Fed visiting Chief Sam Bass with some odd demands. In the future, there would be large van trucks proceeding down Gordon Drive late at night. They would be driven by Cubans. The police should not stop them, follow them, or hinder their progress in any fashion. If one was stopped the driver would present a card on which was written Chief Sam Bass. That would serve as code that the driver was legit and part of government sanctioned operation. Huh? But after doing some checking Sam told us it was way over our heads and just to turn our backs.

One early morning, however, one of the trucks broke down on 5th Ave So and 3rd Street. In the process of helping to get the truck started one of our nosey cops--God love him--was astounded to discover that the truck was loaded with cases of ammo, clearly stamped US Air Force. Later we figured out where all this ammo was going.

The old shacks along the water soon sprouted signs proclaiming they were the home of Delta Enterprises, Trans-World Imports, and other exotic--and ridiculous CIA type names. Tied off in front of two of the building were thirty-foot power boats, with obvious cannons pointing to the rear. The cannons were covered with a form-fitting tarp mark Radar. Right!

Then the raids started. The boats would proceed out, head to Cuba, sit off-shore and blow hell out of Fidel's fiefdom, then return to Port Royal. Though they weren't advertised, it didn't take much to reconcile news reports with the disappearance of the boats for several hours.

And they kept up, which didn't surprise use. It was a well known secret that the government was training Cuban insurgents in the Everglades. Why should the midnight runs be a surprise?

The runs kept up until the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Then, the boats and bogus businesses disappeared. Later we read that the Cuban general who had been training the troops in the Everglades had been put in prison.

Always caused us to wonder--and hope--the CIA was usually a little more covert than what they demonstrated in the Port Royal operation.

HOMEBREW BURGLAR ALARM

In the sixties we didn't have all the electronic goodies we now enjoy. Having no handheld radios was particularly dangerous and inconvenient but we didn't know any better. When electronic assistance was needed you had to use the Necessity Is a Mother Rule. Ingenuity.

Sometimes you'd have a burglar who had a good thing going and didn't want to give it up. This was often true of dopers who, to satisfy their habit, would break into the same place, time after time. And they liked drug stores because that's where the mother lode for hop heads was.

We had one who liked the Rexall at 5th Ave So and 8th Street. Hit it every couple of weeks. We weren't equipped to run long surveillances and the little portable burglar alarms they now have hadn't been invented. So we became young Tom Edisons.

The telephones, back then, were all big, heavy, black rotary dial things.  We decided to use one of its unique characteristics to make a burglar alarm. If you dialed all the numbers to the desired contact but didn't let the last number dialed return back to to zero point, the call wouldn't be put through. As an example, dial 774-443 then dial the last 4 but not let it rotate back, the line would stay poised to make the call, but wouldn't do it until you took out your finger and let the dial process finish. Folks used this trick all the time calling radio stations to win money. The next caller will win $25. People would wait around with all the numbers dialed, but their finger holding the last number back. When the announcer gave the word to call, they'd let go and the call was instantly put through. 

So we went to the Rexall one evening, selected a phone near a pathway in the store that had to be traversed, dialed all but the last number to the PD, tied a string in the finger hole, tied the string across the pathway, then went home.

The idea was that when the burglar broke in, in the dark, and went down the pathway, he'd pull the string loose from where we had it loosely affixed, the dial would rotate home, and a call would be made to the PD. Dispatch was instructed that if they received a call with no one on the line, send a car to the Rexall post haste.

Mickey Mouse rig, right? Rube Goldberg at his best. Redneck engineering. That ain't what the burglar thought when we caught him in the act. And we caught another, the same way, at the Moorings Pro Shop.

Next we invented the wheel.

FUTURE COP TRAINING

 What kind of little boys and girls grow up to be cops? All kinds. I always liked to hire to ones who'd lived in the real world, knew how things worked, and were familiar with the system. Street wise. No one was gonna pee down their back and tell them it was raining.

One of my favorite cops, Byron Tomlinson, made money in high school by injecting oranges with Vodka and selling them to other students. Is there not some element of genius here?

Had a few others who were Crackers. To keep the old belly full in their youth, they'd skinned a few gators, sold a few hides, and taken several deer out of season. And fishing limits? Forget it. 

Long as we're fessin' up, I have to make a few myself. Growing up post depression in Charleston, WVa, you forgot about trying to make a buck. A few pennies would do. To accomplish that, I used to go all over downtown stuffing toilet paper up in the coin return slots. When the change and returned coins dropped, they remained up there atop the plugged slot. End of the day, I'd go by, remove the toilet paper, and collect my bounty. Which could be very good for a ten year old. Later, the phone company got wise and installed that rocker device in the coin slot to prevent stuffing it.

Then there was the bottle return thing. You got two cents for soft drink bottles and five cents for a Canada Dry ginger ale bottle. Five cents! Why you could by a candy bar, or an RC for five cents. Five more and you could add on a Moon Pie.

So I'd look for stores that stored their collection of returned bottles behind the building. It was usually fenced in but that was no problem for a kid. The processes was simple. Climb the fence, liberate a few bottles, then, later, sell them back to the same store. Course, we spent the ill-gotten gains in that store so the owner didn't get hurt too badly.

Then there was the old Coke machine trick. Remember the old machines that looked like chest freezers. Had the drinks in there hanging on sliding rails. You slid the drink to the end of the row, put in a nickel, and pulled it up through a lock thing.

All that work wasn't necessary. Look for a place where the machine was out of sight--usually a service station--pop the cap on one of the Cokes with a bottle opener, insert a straw, and empty the bottle. Ah, the pause that refreshes.

Then for my favorite. Michael Jackson did not invent the moonwalk. Young folks like myself did. At movie theaters they usually had two sets of doors. one set for folks to enter the movie, another for those exiting. We'd wait by the exit door until the movie ended and the crowd was flowing out the doors. Then, we'd step into the crowd, and moonwalk backwards into the theater. Never failed!

Hope the statute of limitations has run out.

Thanks Gail for your help.

NAPLES INVISIBLE STREET

Noticed recently that Collier County folks are still fighting about personal property vs public beach property. This particular fight was at the Ritz Carlton, but the battles and questions have persisted since before our family moved here in 1956.

Most of our disputes in the City were caused by realtors who told prospective beach front property owners that the lot ran from the street, Gulf Shore Boulevard or Gordon Drive, to the Gulf. This, of course, was a lie and led to calls to the PD with whines about people walking on their beach. 

There's that mean high tide thing that's considered the true dividing line. But, witness the battle at the Ritz, calculating that takes an engineer or a Swami and a lotta time.

Quite by accident, we found out the founding father's foresight had made the problem non-existent. An old-time Naples resident called the PD one day and said he'd been reading about the disputes in the Collier County News and wondered if folks didn't realize that the beach was actually a platted street in the City of Naples. We went over and dug through the plats and durned if the fella wasn't right. It was also spelled out in the City Ordinances. Obviously, the founding fathers wanted to retain the Beach's use for everyone, not just a privileged few. 

Its name was Gulf Street. All the Avenues in the City terminated at Gulf Street. The plat map clearly defined Gulf Street's right-of-way so conclusively that we kept a copy of it at the PD to show blubbering beach property owners just what their property boundaries really were. And they sure weren't out as far as the invented mean high tide line.

Once a NPD cop wrote a motorcycle rider a ticket for speeding on Gulf Street. And it held up in Municipal Court.

I've wondered over the years if the plat still exists or if some misguided or politically pressured weasels did away with it.

Thanks, Dave for the corrections.