A Life Story of an Ex - L.A. Cop

By Jerry Blackburn

We start with a brief ancestry of my parents, my fathers and my mothers histories the best as I can remember, and then my childhood during the Depression with an overstrict father, then high school, graduation, and work. I finally got to go to Wyoming and met my first wife, returned to California, went to work at a steel company then at a wholesale grocers, performed some activities, then worked at the Huntington Park Police Department (HPPD), and lots of activities. I was drafted in to the military and returned to HPPD. More activities, then LAPD Academy, graduation to PIC, AID, then to TED (motorcycles), lots of activities. Retirement (Rocket Wheel), Construction, Department of Justice as bodyguard for the attorney general. Back into construction, after twenty years retired. Moved to Laguna Woods, retired, end of story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493173433

Jerry Blackburn

MEMOIRS OF JERRY BLACKBURN We start with a brief ancestry of my parents, my father’s and my mother’s histories the best as I can remember, and then my childhood during the Depression with an overstrict father, then high school, graduation, and work. I finally got to go to Wyoming and met my first wife, returned to California, went to work at a steel company then at a wholesale grocers, performed some activities, then worked at the Huntington Park Police Department (HPPD), and lots of activities. I was drafted in to the military and returned to HPPD. More activities, then LAPD Academy, graduation to PIC, AID, then to TED (motorcycles), lots of activities. Retirement (Rocket Wheel), Construction, Department of Justice as bodyguard for the attorney general. Back into construction, after twenty years retired. Moved to Laguna Woods, retired, end of story.

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Copyright © 2014 by Jerry Blackburn.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014902678

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-4931-7342-6

   Softcover   978-1-4931-7341-9

   eBook   978-1-4931-7343-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

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without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Rev. date: 10/17/2014

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Foreword

An Author’s Note

Kenneth H. Blackburn

(My Father)

Clyde Lucille Blackburn

(My Mother)

My Childhood

Work, And Wyoming

Marriage And Hppd (1)

Military Service And U. S. Army

Huntington Park Police Department (2)

LAPD Academy, Graduation, And Pic

(Pedestrian Intersection Control)

Assigned To AID (Accident Investigation Division)

Motor School And Motors

(Traffic Enforcement Division)

My First Wife, Lois

Complaints On Motors

(TED)

Rocket Wheel Industries Employment

Attorney General Employment

Lake Arrowhead

Adeline

My Second Wife

Jack Densel Armistead

(My Half Brother)

Dale G. Blackburn

(My Other Brother)

Jay And Jed Blackburn

(My Sons)

Acknowledgments

My Final Retirement

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to my beloved wife Deli the most remarkable woman I have ever known. I lost her to cancer in May 2, 2005 and I miss her something awful.

FOREWORD

This autobiography by Jerry Blackburn was written at the urging of friends who recognized that he has an important story to tell. In his modest assessment of his life’s experiences while serving as an L. A. Cop. There is an important message for the ordinary man-on- the-street which Jerry tells with honesty, straight-forwardness and love, to us; the uninitiated public, that life as a police officer is one of dedication, some hardship, strange odd hours and meeting a society that sadly, is not pure-of-heart! It is also one of pride while serving as an escort to dignitaries such as: Golda Meir, Presidents Lyndon Johnson, John F. Kennedy and Bobby Kennedy.

I found this honest, dedicated, now retired Cop to be, by turns a funny, shocking, and totally engrossing man who Tells it like it was 50 plus years ago. In this: His first book.

One of his many friends

AN AUTHOR’S NOTE

In as much as I am 75 percent blind with Macular Degeneration, which leave you with peripheral vision only and it is weakening, I had to dictate the whole book. When it was read back to me, it certainly did not have a polish and finesse of an accomplished sighted author. However, I hope you read it and enjoy it anyway.

Incidentally on the cover was one I was on the drill team they took this picture during the parade. The uniform was not the regular blues.

The picture on the back cover of this book was one rainy day when I was a security for a State Attorney General.

KENNETH H. BLACKBURN (MY FATHER)

My father’s name is Kenneth Harrington Blackburn. He was born March 5, 1899 in Grand Island, Nebraska and his ancestors came from Scotland (the Blackburn’s). My dad’s mother is Crete Blackburn. (I don’t know her maiden name), but her ancestors were named Fuller. They came over on the Mayflower from England. My grandmother was a direct descendant and belonged to a Mayflower club.

My dad’s father was mean, and when he got to drinking, he wanted to fight and beat up everybody. He was a big man and was able to do it. In fact, my dad was also a recipient of many beatings himself. My dad’s uncle and brothers owned a cattle ranch in Paso Robles, California. They asked my grandpa Harry to come out to California to bring the family and be a part of the cattle ranch. So grandpa and the family, my dad and his two sisters, Erlene and Edrice, went to California. My uncle Glenn was born in Paso Robles.

They were there a few years with one of the relatives, McBride. I understand that the lady was possibly a Blackburn. She showed up and married a man named McBride.

She was a very strict Catholic, and my uncles and dad had a lot of respect for her. She said she would run the ranch and take care of the finances if they signed the ranch over to her. One day, they got to drinking and signed the ranch ownership to her. This turned out to be a mistake because she ended up giving part of it to her nephew. Later sold the property and became wealthy. The Blackburns ended up with nothing except their personal belongings. If this transaction took place nowadays, it would be totally illegal, but in the years 1900s to 1920s, they got away with it.

My dad loved and respected this lady, but after this, he hated Catholics.

One of my dad’s uncles (I think Robert and one of the Jesse James relatives) owned a hot springs hotel, which had quite a bit of land with it in Paso Robles, California. When all this took place and they lost the ranch, they sold the hotel and donated a piece of land to the City for a park. The park is still there as well as the small monument that indicated it was donated by Blackburns and James.

Prior to losing the ranch, my dad worked with the animals and loved them. About the time they lost the ranch, my grandpa Harry Blackburn, was drinking and killed a guy in a bar, and was on the lam. My dad never saw him again. A few years later, grandpa Harry was dying and wanted to see the family. My dad wouldn’t go because he hated him.

Grandmother, my dad, and the rest of the family had to go to work. Dad was fourteen years old at that time and had to quit school.

They moved to King City, California. The family lost the ranch, and everybody went in different directions. Dad never kept in contact with any of them except for my aunt Margaret. She was a grand marshall in the Pioneer Days Parade in Paso Robles. She was married to a Frenchman named J. Troteer, who was a brick mason. He lived in San Francisco. If there is any Blackburn that had a great-grandfather who owned a ranch in Paso Robles, California, at the turn of the century, they’re probably my cousins.

When my dad moved to King City, California, he worked on a hay press, that’s when he first started smoking cigarettes. My grandmother Crete, my dad’s mother, taught piano and did occasional nursing. My aunts Erlene, Edrice and uncle Glenn stayed home.

In 1998, my second wife Deli and I took the trip up to Paso Robles saw the park and the monument. There was an old building in the park. And I thought it was maybe the Blackburn home, but it wasn’t; it turned out to be the City Library built in the 1930s long after the Blackburn home.

Dad and the family moved to Salinas, California. My dad’s first job was delivering milk by horse and wagon. He didn’t have to learn the route because the horse knew it. The horse would go a little bit, stop, and then Pop would deliver the milk then go to the next stop; etc. His next job was in a Candy store, and he ate too much and got sick. The owner told him to eat all he wanted, and after that, my dad ate hardly any candy.

He became a Butcher, and was good at the job. The family moved to Hayward, San Francisco, Oakland, California area. He got a job in a shipyard.

When World War I broke out, Pop joined the army in 1916 or 1917, but my grandmother Crete went to the army and got him out on a "hardship. She still needed support to help the family. He quit his job in the Shipyard to join the Army. He got another job as a teamster, driving sixteen mules, grading streets in San Francisco. At this time, he took up boxing and was called Kid Blackie. While in San Francisco, he and one of his uncles used to go to the Barbary Coast, where anything" goes. While on the cable car in Frisco, on the way to the coast, a lady was standing, Pop asked a man to get up and give her his seat. The guy made a nasty remark, and Pop took him out of his seat and threw him out of the streetcar. He got into trouble for that.

The family moved south to Fresno, California. They rented an apartment in the same building as mom and her family (the Howes). He went to work in the Oil Fields in South Bakersfield, California. He would go home on weekends once in a while to see his folks, met Mom, and then got married later. After they married, he got a job in the Fresno Fire Department as a fireman. As a fireman, he was gone most of the time. He got involved in everything. He played saxophone, he cooked, drove the rig, and was also a coroner for the fire department. (They didn’t have a regular county coroner in those days.)

When he was in Fresno, I forgot to say, there was a Mexican crossing the street, walking slowly. My dad honked the horn, and the Mexican walked slower and slower. My dad ran over the Mexican guy and got into a lot of trouble. He had to go out of State to keep himself from going to jail. Dad went to Wyoming and worked in the Oil fields. The chief let him keep his job as a fireman in Fresno. And in six months, the chief wrote him a letter, telling my dad to come back, that everything was okay, and he did come back.

After a few years, he was going to go into business with his brother-in-law, Riley, his sister Edrice’s husband, to build houses in North Hollywood, California. He quit the job and went to North Hollywood, but his brother-in-law ran off with all the money. Dad was stranded. He was in North Hollywood without a job. This was during the Prohibition in 1928. If my dad had gotten hold of Riley, he probably would have killed him because he took all of dad’s money. I found out later that my dad and Ma really split. Later he found a job in Seal Beach, California, as a policeman riding motors. This was during the Prohibition, and there was bootlegging coming in to the harbors like San Pedro, Long Beach, Seal Beach, etc. This was a dangerous job at that time.

As a policeman in Seal Beach, he heard rumors that booze was coming under the pier, so he went; and when they came in a boat, he hollered, You’re under arrest! They started shooting at Dad. He could hear the bullets hitting the pilings, so he started shooting back, and his gun jammed. It was an automatic, and he never owned another one. He threw the automatic at them and left.

Mom and dad were actually separated at that time. He decided that he wanted to get back with mom and my brother Dale. But mom had to get rid of Jack, as he had told her to before. Mom agreed because she was in financial trouble. She had me, Jack, and Dale temporarily and had no work. She gave Jack to her parents to be taken care of and came South to Seal Beach.

After Seal Beach, he went to Vernon, California, and rode motors. Then he heard there was an assistant-chief job in Maywood, California, twenty-four hours on duty and twenty-four hours off duty.

No radios and telephone—there was a red light on top of the fire station tower. At night when they needed him, they would turn the light on, and he had to go. During his daytime work at 8:00 a. m. to 5:00 p. m., he was at the police station across the street from the fire department.

While he was on Vernon P.D., and when he first went on Maywood P.D., he became friends with people working at the Stock yards and L. A. Horse and Mule Auction. He was then able to ride horseback which he dearly loved since he was a boy in Paso Robles.

Every year the City of Maywood had pioneer days and pop always had a horse from his friends.

After a couple of years, Chuck Porter, the chief, quit; and Papa was alone and talked the City of Maywood into hiring more policemen; they did. He was chief for fourteen years.

When World War II started, after a couple of years, he joined the Navy. As a chief petty officer, he could have been a lieutenant, but he didn’t have an education, (only, through seventh-grade). He worked with shore patrol as an SP (shore patrol) on trains and some of the local police departments.

The Navy supplied them with a baton or Billy club but pop didn’t like these so he made his own, He had an old lathe when he made into his own Billy club. While in the navy boot camp, he learned to tie knots and became really good at it. One of the knots was a Turk’s head which he used on his Billy club. All the other shore patrol men liked his Billy club so he started making them and charged for them. He had a hardwood supplier near the Stock yards. I don’t know how many he made but whenever he was home he made Billy clubs; anything for a buck.

He wasn’t a coward in this war, (he was accused of being one in World War I.) He spent three years in the navy and, after the war, went back to the police department as chief. He was well known as a policeman. He was honest, would not allow gambling and illegal acts, and would not allow black people in the city limits after dark. After a few arrests of blacks, the word got out, and blacks wouldn’t go through town after dark. Today, this would be illegal. He got away with it, and it was not a secret that he hated Blacks, Catholics, and Jews. As a policeman in Maywood, he always kept in good shape. He worked out with professional wrestlers like Hard-Boiled Haggarty, Man Mountain Dean, and many others. He had cauliflower ears and used to box with neighbor Al Mauch, who he later hired as a policeman. Al was an ex-pug (boxer). Dad also jumped rope, punched the bag, and loved to fight. He told tales about some of his fights and his escapades in the Barbary Coast, some of the horrible fire victims in Fresno, and some of his embalming victims while he was a fireman in Fresno. One wondered how much was true, but he was big enough and strong enough so he could back it up.

Papa was well known as a good policeman. He had friends who were on the bench years ago; and one was Judge Fricke, a well-known judge who wrote many law books. My dad became friends with a man named CB and a couple of other names I won’t mention.

They wanted my dad to go to into business with them on a dude ranch in Yellowstone Park, Wyoming. It was the first registered dude Ranch in the United States. It was called Holm Lodge, after Tex Holm, who built in it 1903, and it is still there. It was referred to as the Cross Savers Ranch in some history books. They wanted my dad to be the manager and to run the place. He did so and quit the police department.

While Dad was there in Maywood, he built the police department up from two men to twenty-eight, I believe. It was a good department, and the Los Angeles County Sheriff Department was supposedly, to take it over. Dad changed their uniforms to sheriff colors of green and tan. This never happened until the year 2000, when they found out that Maywood was full of crooks.

He quit the police department and went to Wyoming with my brother Dale. They both had $3,500 apiece. Dad borrowed money on our home, and my brother earned it and saved his share.

The plan was to work for the Wyoming dude ranch in the summer and buy another dude ranch in Arizona for the winter. After a couple of years, Dad and my brother got aced out. A lot of work had been done to the Holm Lodge, and they couldn’t contribute money, so they went broke and were aced out. They came back to California, my brother went to work for Certified Grocers, and my dad wanted people to feel sorry for him. He was offered a job as a bailiff for the County of Los Angeles, California, but he turned it down. He bought an old 1936 Chevy Coupe and went to work for a welding shop as a laborer. After a year or so, he worked for the Stinger Crane Company as a welder and operator. After a while, he operated one of the cranes. On one of his jobs, the headache ball broke loose and hit him in the chest breaking some of his ribs that almost killed him. He wouldn’t go to the hospital on his own, but his boss took him to the industrial hospital, where he was x-rayed and treated and sent home.

He was supposed to go to his own doctor, but he never did because it would cost him money. He just went home and sat in the chair for several weeks, and every time he breathed, you could hear the ribs click.

He went back to work as a crane operator and retired when he was sixty-eight years old. He died in 1974 when he was seventy-five years old. He died of emphysema and lung cancer. He used tobacco in every way: pipe, cigarettes, cigars, anything. He chewed and used snuff. He coughed as long as I can remember. He rolled his own most of the time (Bull Durham) and burned holes in his clothes and was a chain smoker all