Bill Says: With the coming of our first summer in Skagway, I'd completed the Alaska Municipal Police Academy in Sitka and was back in town in time for the onslaught of tourists. Our third police officer had resigned and Chief Hester was looking around for a replacement. Eventually, there would be four police officers due to the heavy summer workload and Chief Hester having to take a lengthy leave of absence for a blown colon, (something I would suffer from years later).
The Canadians were mostly a pretty good lot, but as with every nationality, there's some jerks. I learned how the liquor stores in Canada were owned by the federal government and they didn't sell the higher potent liquors; 180% rum and such. So, they came to Skagway and bought what they could put away in a single weekend and then go home with nasty hangovers. Skagway hosted several summer softball tournaments and as many as 56 teams would arrive in town from Fairbanks, Canada and Juneau for a weekend of softball. Campgrounds were packed, partying was hard and we had a lot of trouble.
Unique to Alaska was how Skagway's city limits went right up against the US/Canada border. The US customs station was 8-miles inside the border and the Canadian customs station was about 5 miles inside their border. This gave us a 13 mile length of road we often termed as no-man's land. The border was also located at the top of White Pass and nearly 4,000 feet above sea level. The Klondike Highway was steep at several spots and the switchbacks could be quite hazardous. I worked a lot of accidents up there, usually brought about by reckless drivers. I had one lady roll her brand new import to miss a squirrel. Now the border officially closed at midnight and the customs station locked up for the night. There was no gate and one of our responsibilities was conducting late night security checks on the station, which was also outside our comm system. Motorists who made it through Canadian customs but didn't make the midnight closure could park at the US station, but several times that summer I stopped border runners who tried to sneak through and this usually resulted in a $500 fine per passenger, imposed by US Immigrations. I once stopped a tour bus with 45 passengers and thought I should've got a commission from the feds.
Sometimes, when we had difficulties with Canadians we would give them a choice of being escorted up to no-man's land to spend the rest of the night, or jail. They always picked the road. We worked hand and hand with US Fish & Wildlife, Customs & Immigrations , State Troopers & State Wildlife Officers, US Park Rangers & Forest Service. We had a lot of National Park property within the city limits, including the mouth of the famous Chilkoot Trail and three large cemeteries.
If in the event we had serious problems with a Canadian or other non-US citizen, we could contact the mounties and work with US Customs & Immigrations to have this person blackballed from entering any us entry point- especially if this involved narcotics, major felonies or if the person had serious narcotic or major felony convictions in their home country. Canada apparently now prevents non-Canadian people with DWI records from entering if discovered at the border station.
With the arrival of the first cruise ships, ( Princess and Cunard lines), we were given a tour of the vessels. I soon learned how in many of these boats how different the conditions were below decks, ( not part of the tour). This is where the employees or crew lived, nearly all of them from third world countries and at well below US minimum wage. Below deck, these quarters resembled third world countries and I was shocked, but they operated under non-US flag and didn't come under our labor laws- accept for liquor sales and gambling while within the 3-mile limit. All the slot machine rooms were chained off, but minors could gamble out on the open ocean.
I once chased a crew member down about 5 decks for stealing a bicycle, which I watched him toss into the bay and finally caught him. This was my first look at the conditions down there. Sad.
That first summer, after Chief Hester got sick, Dennis and I began working 12-hour shifts and 7-days a week. I went that entire summer without a day off...well, in August I got a day off for when James was born in Juneau. Dennis, being the senior man, got days and I got nights, but we were often called out to back each other up. Most of our cases either involved bar fights, domestics in the campgrounds or disturbances in employee housing for the hotels, shoplifting, vehicle accidents, DWI's and some drug busts. By the end of summer I was wiped out and had lost all patience with jerks, creeps, perps, slimeballs and idiots. I would often park my patrol car on the main downtown roadway and walk the original boardwalk of 1898 to check the businesses, visit with tourists, conduct bar checks and make sure everyone knew I was out and about.
I learned just before leaving Skagway of how the bartenders had a bet going on about me. $50 to the first one who could get me to drink anything in their establishment. I never wanted it to appear that the bartender was slipping me some booze in a coffee cup or any drink container. I actually gained their respect in this and they helped me on some of my cases. I also rescued one bartender from a bothersome spook, which was terrorizing her one late bit strange, but she began reading her Bible after that and kept it behind her bar. She weighed about 300 pounds or more, was from New York and tough as nails, except when spooks were concerned. Her brother was a cop, killed on duty. I watched her wrestle a big drunk to the floor one night and knew her brother had taught her will.
Toward the end of summer, Officer Ed came aboard. He was a former Idaho Deputy Sheriff- don't recall what county. He'd been a cop for 7 years and had actually worked cattle rustling cases. He brought his wife and two teenage daughters with him. Ed was assigned to me for a week and then he was on his own. More later.
Mr. Bill and Miz Mona
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Moose Pass Journal / Skagway's Life & Times 7/8/11
Bill Says: My first morning in Skagway and I awakened trembling from a hellish nightmare, bathed in night sweats and my single blanket wrapped around my knees. Yes, I did have a single reoccurring nightmare from an experience in Viet Nam, but this was so very different. I looked about the ancient jail cell, the concrete walls and tried to get my breathing and heart rate back within normal range. My jail, in which I was forced to use until better lodging came available, had a very high ceiling of about 12-feet and took up approximately 100 square feet. Two metal bunks, each with a very thin mattress, single blanket and sheets, and a single pillow. The walls were an ugly gray in color and probably hadn't seen a coat of fresh paint in years. There was a toilet without a seat, ( these could be used as weapons against a fellow prisoner or a guard), and a simple shower stall. No sink. The overhead light couldn't be reached without a ladder. The cell door was the original; heavy iron bars and secured through an outside mechanism the prisoners couldn't reach. Outside the cell was a single office, which held the chief's antique roll-top desk, file cabinets and inset shelves, plus a metal desk for the officers to use.
Over head on the 2nd floor was the Skagway Museum, closed now for the season. It was from here I was to first experience a haunting; which involved a restless stuffed standing grizzly bear mount- now chained to the wall by heavy links in an attempt to keep it from moving about the room. That evening, while writing a letter to my wife I began to hear the heavy foot prints from the floor above. Now no one bothered to mention to me the story of the restless bear, but I sure heard something moving about and rushed upstairs to find the museum locked up tight. I even ran out into the heavy snow to inspect the back door, which was frozen shut and with two feet of fresh snow blocking the doorway. The museum was even alarmed, sending out phone calls to us over our comm system when the alarm sounded. Sometimes as many as 20 times a month the alarm went off and I learned to really hate it. Officers had to respond to reset the alarm each time.
A new Christian, who had witnessed many unexplained occurrences in the war, was quite frankly, a bit upset over this marching about overhead. I knew it was someone very heavy for me to hear it from the room below, especially in a building constructed of granite rock. But after the nightmare from only last night, I was asking myself a lot of questions about this place I'd come too and began pulling some books off the shelves in hopes of finding some answers. One of these was the original Alaska Territorial Marshal Booking Records for the early 1900's. The Chief had already pointed out to me of how Eric Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz, was held here for a murder he committed in Nome. There were also pages and pages of men and women held for Insanity. It became so bad the township had to construct its own asylum to hold them. Now only the rubble remained of the building. There were dozens of prisoners being held for murder. I also read how at least 12-men had committed suicide in the cell I was sleeping in.
In my nightmare, a presence blacker than the dark it emerged from, came up from the floor of the cell and began to smother me. At one point I was looking down upon my body from the ceiling and watching as my body was being ripped apart by this dark demonic thing. I attempted to scream out, but could not make a sound and there was the maniacal laughter emanating from the cell walls. Next, my out of body presence was being sucked into the darkness and this was when I awakened. It is such a nightmare that mere description can in no way explain the fear it caused in me. Then came the stupid bear thing.
In the next couple of days to follow, I learned all I could about Skagway's history. For here was a town founded on man's greed; built from the ground up for the 1898 Gold Rush. Here, where murder, debauchery and mayhem stood as the town's cornerstone. Where thousands of men and women had come to strike it rich and only less than 1% ever discovered the gold, and so many would fall into despair, or insanity.
Most of the men and women made their money off the miners, some honestly as laborers and providers of needed supplies, and others.... thieves, cutthroats and gang members, gamblers and con-men, prostitutes and opium peddlers. Many of the miners would fall victim, assaulted and robbed or even killed. At one point, Soapy Smith, the legendary con man of Skagway, had a gang of over 100 men and women. But he to met his fate on the Skagway dock when he was killed in a gunfight. He was buried in Skagway, but years later someone stole his bones for what ever reason and only an empty grave and stone marker remained.
Skagway was a town made famous by its hauntings; ghosts of murdered bar girls and prostitutes and a few dead miners. A particular hotel room on the 3rd floor of a famous hotel, where a prostitute was strangled to death and visited annually by those investigating the paranormal. Here, the specter would routinely throw furniture about, tossing things through the glass window and frightening many a visitor. The room was always freezing, even though the rest of the floor was kept quite warm. I even experienced the ghost's wrath on a winter night when a chair was tossed through the window to bounce off the hood of my patrol car. At the time the 3rd floor was sealed off by a locked door, for when not needed the hotel owner kept it locked up as she herself was afraid to go up there. She finally found a buyer and left town.
During the Gold Rush a witches coven had formed, their activities and identities kept secret... that is until I came to work there. I'll get into this part later, but I will say that I was used to expose this coven and they were not happy. 13 witches and warlocks, some of them the key people in town. No, they were not happy and brought a lot of pressure against Mona and I.
After experiencing three nights of this same nightmare, I called my wife. With her occult background and now her renewed faith in the Lord, I felt she could help me. Sure I carried a revolver, nightstick and shotgun, I needed something a whole lot more spiritual to fight what ever was attacking me. Sure enough, she told me how to pray and cleanse the room/cell. So I prayed and laid hands on every wall surface, stick of furniture and shouted out the Lord's name to rebuke the enemy's presence. Now remember, this was all new stuff to me, but when I finished I felt a strange feeling of relief. The darkness was gone and I never had that nightmare return. Oddly enough, when the chief came in the next morning he thought I had cleaned the office. He said it felt almost cheery and thanked me.
I was to learn about the legend of the restless bear, how it had frightened one jail guard so bad he abandoned his prisoner and left town on the departing ferry. The prisoner was found cowering in his cell and needed sedation by the town nurse.
Oh there was a house where violin music came out of the walls, a famous bar where ghosts taunted the bartenders late at night with that same maniacal laughter and moving things about. Ghostly apparitions seen later at night walking about and vanishing. I even chased a ghost down the middle of the road, only to see it simply disappear in front of me. There were other such things, but enough of that now. The town was simply haunted and locked in the demonic grasp of the enemy. Even the Catholic church existed only now as an abandoned building and the few small churches were very lukewarm in spiritual strength. I found a town in depression, like no other I had ever lived in before. Some really great people in a worldly sense and little help for them.
Shortly after my arrival, the White Pass Railroad, which ran ore and passengers between Whitehorse, Canada and Skagway, went bankrupt and over night we saw 33% unemployment. It was devastating for the community. The town accounted for at least one suicide a year and another death by accident.
Yes, Mona and I really walked into it and we really had our hands full. Both of us were fighters, but this was a new ground for each of us and we relied heavily on one another. It forever changed my beliefs in the existence of the enemy and only added to my faith in the power the Lord had over the enemy. More to follow.
Over head on the 2nd floor was the Skagway Museum, closed now for the season. It was from here I was to first experience a haunting; which involved a restless stuffed standing grizzly bear mount- now chained to the wall by heavy links in an attempt to keep it from moving about the room. That evening, while writing a letter to my wife I began to hear the heavy foot prints from the floor above. Now no one bothered to mention to me the story of the restless bear, but I sure heard something moving about and rushed upstairs to find the museum locked up tight. I even ran out into the heavy snow to inspect the back door, which was frozen shut and with two feet of fresh snow blocking the doorway. The museum was even alarmed, sending out phone calls to us over our comm system when the alarm sounded. Sometimes as many as 20 times a month the alarm went off and I learned to really hate it. Officers had to respond to reset the alarm each time.
A new Christian, who had witnessed many unexplained occurrences in the war, was quite frankly, a bit upset over this marching about overhead. I knew it was someone very heavy for me to hear it from the room below, especially in a building constructed of granite rock. But after the nightmare from only last night, I was asking myself a lot of questions about this place I'd come too and began pulling some books off the shelves in hopes of finding some answers. One of these was the original Alaska Territorial Marshal Booking Records for the early 1900's. The Chief had already pointed out to me of how Eric Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz, was held here for a murder he committed in Nome. There were also pages and pages of men and women held for Insanity. It became so bad the township had to construct its own asylum to hold them. Now only the rubble remained of the building. There were dozens of prisoners being held for murder. I also read how at least 12-men had committed suicide in the cell I was sleeping in.
In my nightmare, a presence blacker than the dark it emerged from, came up from the floor of the cell and began to smother me. At one point I was looking down upon my body from the ceiling and watching as my body was being ripped apart by this dark demonic thing. I attempted to scream out, but could not make a sound and there was the maniacal laughter emanating from the cell walls. Next, my out of body presence was being sucked into the darkness and this was when I awakened. It is such a nightmare that mere description can in no way explain the fear it caused in me. Then came the stupid bear thing.
In the next couple of days to follow, I learned all I could about Skagway's history. For here was a town founded on man's greed; built from the ground up for the 1898 Gold Rush. Here, where murder, debauchery and mayhem stood as the town's cornerstone. Where thousands of men and women had come to strike it rich and only less than 1% ever discovered the gold, and so many would fall into despair, or insanity.
Most of the men and women made their money off the miners, some honestly as laborers and providers of needed supplies, and others.... thieves, cutthroats and gang members, gamblers and con-men, prostitutes and opium peddlers. Many of the miners would fall victim, assaulted and robbed or even killed. At one point, Soapy Smith, the legendary con man of Skagway, had a gang of over 100 men and women. But he to met his fate on the Skagway dock when he was killed in a gunfight. He was buried in Skagway, but years later someone stole his bones for what ever reason and only an empty grave and stone marker remained.
Skagway was a town made famous by its hauntings; ghosts of murdered bar girls and prostitutes and a few dead miners. A particular hotel room on the 3rd floor of a famous hotel, where a prostitute was strangled to death and visited annually by those investigating the paranormal. Here, the specter would routinely throw furniture about, tossing things through the glass window and frightening many a visitor. The room was always freezing, even though the rest of the floor was kept quite warm. I even experienced the ghost's wrath on a winter night when a chair was tossed through the window to bounce off the hood of my patrol car. At the time the 3rd floor was sealed off by a locked door, for when not needed the hotel owner kept it locked up as she herself was afraid to go up there. She finally found a buyer and left town.
During the Gold Rush a witches coven had formed, their activities and identities kept secret... that is until I came to work there. I'll get into this part later, but I will say that I was used to expose this coven and they were not happy. 13 witches and warlocks, some of them the key people in town. No, they were not happy and brought a lot of pressure against Mona and I.
After experiencing three nights of this same nightmare, I called my wife. With her occult background and now her renewed faith in the Lord, I felt she could help me. Sure I carried a revolver, nightstick and shotgun, I needed something a whole lot more spiritual to fight what ever was attacking me. Sure enough, she told me how to pray and cleanse the room/cell. So I prayed and laid hands on every wall surface, stick of furniture and shouted out the Lord's name to rebuke the enemy's presence. Now remember, this was all new stuff to me, but when I finished I felt a strange feeling of relief. The darkness was gone and I never had that nightmare return. Oddly enough, when the chief came in the next morning he thought I had cleaned the office. He said it felt almost cheery and thanked me.
I was to learn about the legend of the restless bear, how it had frightened one jail guard so bad he abandoned his prisoner and left town on the departing ferry. The prisoner was found cowering in his cell and needed sedation by the town nurse.
Oh there was a house where violin music came out of the walls, a famous bar where ghosts taunted the bartenders late at night with that same maniacal laughter and moving things about. Ghostly apparitions seen later at night walking about and vanishing. I even chased a ghost down the middle of the road, only to see it simply disappear in front of me. There were other such things, but enough of that now. The town was simply haunted and locked in the demonic grasp of the enemy. Even the Catholic church existed only now as an abandoned building and the few small churches were very lukewarm in spiritual strength. I found a town in depression, like no other I had ever lived in before. Some really great people in a worldly sense and little help for them.
Shortly after my arrival, the White Pass Railroad, which ran ore and passengers between Whitehorse, Canada and Skagway, went bankrupt and over night we saw 33% unemployment. It was devastating for the community. The town accounted for at least one suicide a year and another death by accident.
Yes, Mona and I really walked into it and we really had our hands full. Both of us were fighters, but this was a new ground for each of us and we relied heavily on one another. It forever changed my beliefs in the existence of the enemy and only added to my faith in the power the Lord had over the enemy. More to follow.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Company's coming
Miss Mona sez:
What do you do when you know guests are coming? Are you the sort that has the house clean and menus planned days, even weeks in advance? Devoted to Martha Stewart, every single thing is arranged and coordinated, from flowers to linens to toilet paper with nifty little guest towels and mints on the pillow? Or are you of the pizza and paper plates, kick the dog off the couch and sit down persuasion?
Most of us land somewhere in between, like me. I would love to have guest towels, or, for that matter, a guest room, and cute little special things to decorate and bless with. Not happening, but it sounds like fun.
I was always fascinated by the magazine pictures of dinners with tablecloths and matching china for holidays. Special, themed dishes and decorations for different holidays, prettily-dressed guests and luminaries hanging from trees...
My family got together regularly for holidays and birthdays, but we certainly didn't have matching dishes and a long table with gleaming crystal and china. No paper plates, either- those cost money. Everybody brought plates and silverware, meals were always potluck and the kids sat on the floor. 40 or 50 people were the norm in Mom and Dad's 800 or 900 square foot house on Wilhoit Rd. People perched wherever and however and a wonderful time was had by all. Mostly.
My family is large, I am the youngest of nine, and diverse. Mostly "blue collar" as they say and low income. I grew up with the idea that if you want something, you need to work for it. That hospitality is a duty as well as blessing and that family is family, no matter what. Some of these concepts led me into some hard and dangerous places, not because they were wrong or bad, but because not everyone I met believed the same way I had been taught. Eventually I ended up in the Air Force (I wanted the Marines but they didn't care for female recruits with a GED) and they sent me to Alaska. That was over 30 years ago.
Married a great guy, also a Vet, built a blended family and started being hospitable.
There are a lot of stories between Wilhoit Rd and Moose Pass, some funny, some sad and a whole bunch that land somewhere in between. My kids grew up thinking it was normal to find someone sleeping on the couch. Some of them grew up to have people on their couch.
Why do we do it? Simple answer- because we have a couch. And a roof. And not everybody else does all the time. Complicated answer- because there were times when I didn't know where I would sleep that night. Because my husband spent too many nights in a jungle or a patrol car. Because life is complicated and everybody needs a little help now and then.
Helping people in this way is not a requirement and for some people, not an option. That's okay! I am not trying to send you on a guilt trip or something. But I do hope I have made you think about this. That hospitality does not have to mean guest rooms and matching sheets. A sleeping bag and a mat on the floor can be a real blessing sometimes. But be warned- it will stretch and challenge you and maybe, just maybe, you will become addicted.
Have a great day!!
Loving you-
Mona
What do you do when you know guests are coming? Are you the sort that has the house clean and menus planned days, even weeks in advance? Devoted to Martha Stewart, every single thing is arranged and coordinated, from flowers to linens to toilet paper with nifty little guest towels and mints on the pillow? Or are you of the pizza and paper plates, kick the dog off the couch and sit down persuasion?
Most of us land somewhere in between, like me. I would love to have guest towels, or, for that matter, a guest room, and cute little special things to decorate and bless with. Not happening, but it sounds like fun.
I was always fascinated by the magazine pictures of dinners with tablecloths and matching china for holidays. Special, themed dishes and decorations for different holidays, prettily-dressed guests and luminaries hanging from trees...
My family got together regularly for holidays and birthdays, but we certainly didn't have matching dishes and a long table with gleaming crystal and china. No paper plates, either- those cost money. Everybody brought plates and silverware, meals were always potluck and the kids sat on the floor. 40 or 50 people were the norm in Mom and Dad's 800 or 900 square foot house on Wilhoit Rd. People perched wherever and however and a wonderful time was had by all. Mostly.
My family is large, I am the youngest of nine, and diverse. Mostly "blue collar" as they say and low income. I grew up with the idea that if you want something, you need to work for it. That hospitality is a duty as well as blessing and that family is family, no matter what. Some of these concepts led me into some hard and dangerous places, not because they were wrong or bad, but because not everyone I met believed the same way I had been taught. Eventually I ended up in the Air Force (I wanted the Marines but they didn't care for female recruits with a GED) and they sent me to Alaska. That was over 30 years ago.
Married a great guy, also a Vet, built a blended family and started being hospitable.
There are a lot of stories between Wilhoit Rd and Moose Pass, some funny, some sad and a whole bunch that land somewhere in between. My kids grew up thinking it was normal to find someone sleeping on the couch. Some of them grew up to have people on their couch.
Why do we do it? Simple answer- because we have a couch. And a roof. And not everybody else does all the time. Complicated answer- because there were times when I didn't know where I would sleep that night. Because my husband spent too many nights in a jungle or a patrol car. Because life is complicated and everybody needs a little help now and then.
Helping people in this way is not a requirement and for some people, not an option. That's okay! I am not trying to send you on a guilt trip or something. But I do hope I have made you think about this. That hospitality does not have to mean guest rooms and matching sheets. A sleeping bag and a mat on the floor can be a real blessing sometimes. But be warned- it will stretch and challenge you and maybe, just maybe, you will become addicted.
Have a great day!!
Loving you-
Mona
Moose Pass Journal/ On To Skagway 7/7/11
Bill Says: My beautiful wife has been wrapped up taking care of Mom, so lately it has been mostly my entries into this blog. It is allowing me to recall those long ago days of 30 years ago and I find it very strange how so many years have gone by. That is until I look into the bathroom mirror and get an eyeful of that old gray haired man staring back at me. Now with a missing front tooth I look a bit like the hick from the sticks and Mona gets a laugh out of my smile.
You'll hear a lot about God appointments in my future entries as both Mona and I feel my move to Skagway was such an appointment. As I said earlier, I gave my life to the Lord Jesus Christ during my time between police jobs. We left Dillingham and flew south to California. Here, Mona got to meet my mom and older brother-Paul. We also got a chance to hit the store and load up on fresh veggies and fruit; some of the things we so dearly missed in Dillingham. From California we traveled to Oregon. Here I met Mona's family and started going to church. Being an ex-Mormon I found the whole spiritual thing a bit strange and then finally felt at home in it and handed my life over into His hands. From Oregon we traveled to Phoenix and here Mona got to meet my dad and my 2nd mother-Bea. We stayed here, while I tried to find a job back in police work.
I applied for the Phoenix PD, Phoenix Organized Crime Unit and Holbrook Police Dept, ( a large PD located between the Navajo and Apache reservations. I went through a battery of tests, polygraph exams and oral boards, but nothing was happening. Got a job as a security guard in the meantime, where they put me out in the warehouse district without a gun and no radio. This was a high crime area, with police helicopters flying overhead all night. Desiring to keep my life, I finally quit. They had this saying that they were too professional to need firearms, yet I noticed how all the supervisors were armed. Then I went to test for the Tempe Police Dept, along with 300 other guys for two slots. While waiting in line, chatting with another former cop, I got this weird mental nudge to leave and go home... a very persistent nudge. So, I left. Shortly afterward, Chief Hester called from Skagway to offer me a job as a patrolman. It was a small department with one chief and three officers. Chief Hester had heard about me through my former boss; Chief Gray. Mona gave me the nod and we were on our way back to Alaska. Sadly, I broke my father's heart as he had hoped I would stay in Arizona. Strangely enough, after going to work in Skagway, Bea called me to let me know I'd received police academy dates for both Phoenix PD and Holbrook PD. WOW! But I wasn't going back, as we felt Alaska was our home.
We didn't have much money, so I flew north with very limited funds. Mona stayed with my dad and Bea, until I could send for her. When we landed in Ketchikan, we learned a harsh winter storm prevented us from continuing north. Spent the night in the airport, with the special permission of a lone security guard. The airport was closed up for the night and no one was allowed to stay, but since I was going up for a police officer's position the guard let me stay. Next morning, with the storm still clobbering us and planes grounded, I got a ride to the ferry terminal and headed north aboard the Taku; a large ferry for the Alaska Marine Highway system. Took about 36 hours, but I landed in Skagway in the middle of the storm, snow blowing ever which way and with only $20 in my wallet. Officer Dennis Spurrier met me and I met the ferry terminal employees, who would soon become good friends.
Skagway, located at the extreme north end of the Lynn Canal and the city limits bordering with Canada, had a winter population of 850-people. Summer population tripled or even higher numbers with tourism. Skagway was the port for the Alaska Marine Highway and a whole lot of cruise ships docked there. Sometimes there were as many as 5,000 tourists in town and all within a 6 block area.
Built in the Skagway Gold Rush on 1898, the town had been mostly kept in its original form to the delight of the tourists. Gold, Ivory and history was sold all summer long and then with the coming of winter the business district was mostly boarded up. The road into Canada was closed off by snow back then, but is kept open now. There was one paved road, but the rest of the town was hard packed dirt. There was a small airfield for prop aircraft and though the city limits took in 444 square miles, the actual town took in less than one square mile. Everything else closely resembled the Alps. Straight up and down mountains, majestic peaks and massive ice fields. It was beautiful to fly over. Whales came in the summer, along with crab and salmon. In the old days the Russian subs visited, surfacing occasionally right off the city dock. But never staying too long. The Lynn Canal was deep, maps showed it to be 3,600 feet at some locations and subs from US and Russia traveled through it.
There were three public bars and two private fraternal clubs. 4 small churches and a busy Masonic Hall. I was soon to find out that my chief and one officer were both Masons and Chief Hester was none to happy to realize he had hired a Christian.
The police department consisted of one large office area and a huge single jail cell. This made up of one third of the bottom floor of an aged granite building built in very early 1900's. The rest of the bottom floor held City Hall and the court house. We had a local magistrate, a young city manager and a much older city council. We had no police dispatcher, which surprised me. The Chief had purchased a radio-phone system, which allowed the caller to patch right into the police cars; which there were two. We drove a older model Eagle wagon on patrol, while Chief Hester drove a Jeep Wagoneer. Chief Hester handled the day shift, while we handled the swing shift and stand-by. We came off patrol at 1 a.m. and was on standby until 5 a.m., he took over then. We were paid minimum pay for stand-by and normal pay per hour if called out.
I arrived up there in January of 1982 and immediately realized Skagway got a lot of snow and had tremendous winds. Blizzards were the norm from December until early March. I also learned that during these harsh winter months our main job was trying to stay awake and watch out for chimney fires. We also had a great volunteer fire dept and ambulance corps. But once tourist season began, we got smacked with police calls. Domestics, bar fights, disturbances in the camp grounds and vehicle accidents. Also lots and lots of stolen bicycles. Seems that the crewmen on the cruise ships loved to grab a bike and peddle back to the ship. They would then toss it off the dock. I caught a couple of them while fishing.
When I got there, Skagway didn't have any place to live and I was forced to live in that single jail cell. I lived there for a couple of weeks, until a 10' x 40' trailer finally opened and I was able to send for Mona. But while living in the jail cell, where more than 12 men had committed suicide and dozens of men and women were held for insanity, I learned for the first time about spiritual warfare and it became clear right from the start how the enemy was extremely upset to have me there in town. The attacks began that first night and will continue on in my next entry. God Bless!
You'll hear a lot about God appointments in my future entries as both Mona and I feel my move to Skagway was such an appointment. As I said earlier, I gave my life to the Lord Jesus Christ during my time between police jobs. We left Dillingham and flew south to California. Here, Mona got to meet my mom and older brother-Paul. We also got a chance to hit the store and load up on fresh veggies and fruit; some of the things we so dearly missed in Dillingham. From California we traveled to Oregon. Here I met Mona's family and started going to church. Being an ex-Mormon I found the whole spiritual thing a bit strange and then finally felt at home in it and handed my life over into His hands. From Oregon we traveled to Phoenix and here Mona got to meet my dad and my 2nd mother-Bea. We stayed here, while I tried to find a job back in police work.
I applied for the Phoenix PD, Phoenix Organized Crime Unit and Holbrook Police Dept, ( a large PD located between the Navajo and Apache reservations. I went through a battery of tests, polygraph exams and oral boards, but nothing was happening. Got a job as a security guard in the meantime, where they put me out in the warehouse district without a gun and no radio. This was a high crime area, with police helicopters flying overhead all night. Desiring to keep my life, I finally quit. They had this saying that they were too professional to need firearms, yet I noticed how all the supervisors were armed. Then I went to test for the Tempe Police Dept, along with 300 other guys for two slots. While waiting in line, chatting with another former cop, I got this weird mental nudge to leave and go home... a very persistent nudge. So, I left. Shortly afterward, Chief Hester called from Skagway to offer me a job as a patrolman. It was a small department with one chief and three officers. Chief Hester had heard about me through my former boss; Chief Gray. Mona gave me the nod and we were on our way back to Alaska. Sadly, I broke my father's heart as he had hoped I would stay in Arizona. Strangely enough, after going to work in Skagway, Bea called me to let me know I'd received police academy dates for both Phoenix PD and Holbrook PD. WOW! But I wasn't going back, as we felt Alaska was our home.
We didn't have much money, so I flew north with very limited funds. Mona stayed with my dad and Bea, until I could send for her. When we landed in Ketchikan, we learned a harsh winter storm prevented us from continuing north. Spent the night in the airport, with the special permission of a lone security guard. The airport was closed up for the night and no one was allowed to stay, but since I was going up for a police officer's position the guard let me stay. Next morning, with the storm still clobbering us and planes grounded, I got a ride to the ferry terminal and headed north aboard the Taku; a large ferry for the Alaska Marine Highway system. Took about 36 hours, but I landed in Skagway in the middle of the storm, snow blowing ever which way and with only $20 in my wallet. Officer Dennis Spurrier met me and I met the ferry terminal employees, who would soon become good friends.
Skagway, located at the extreme north end of the Lynn Canal and the city limits bordering with Canada, had a winter population of 850-people. Summer population tripled or even higher numbers with tourism. Skagway was the port for the Alaska Marine Highway and a whole lot of cruise ships docked there. Sometimes there were as many as 5,000 tourists in town and all within a 6 block area.
Built in the Skagway Gold Rush on 1898, the town had been mostly kept in its original form to the delight of the tourists. Gold, Ivory and history was sold all summer long and then with the coming of winter the business district was mostly boarded up. The road into Canada was closed off by snow back then, but is kept open now. There was one paved road, but the rest of the town was hard packed dirt. There was a small airfield for prop aircraft and though the city limits took in 444 square miles, the actual town took in less than one square mile. Everything else closely resembled the Alps. Straight up and down mountains, majestic peaks and massive ice fields. It was beautiful to fly over. Whales came in the summer, along with crab and salmon. In the old days the Russian subs visited, surfacing occasionally right off the city dock. But never staying too long. The Lynn Canal was deep, maps showed it to be 3,600 feet at some locations and subs from US and Russia traveled through it.
There were three public bars and two private fraternal clubs. 4 small churches and a busy Masonic Hall. I was soon to find out that my chief and one officer were both Masons and Chief Hester was none to happy to realize he had hired a Christian.
The police department consisted of one large office area and a huge single jail cell. This made up of one third of the bottom floor of an aged granite building built in very early 1900's. The rest of the bottom floor held City Hall and the court house. We had a local magistrate, a young city manager and a much older city council. We had no police dispatcher, which surprised me. The Chief had purchased a radio-phone system, which allowed the caller to patch right into the police cars; which there were two. We drove a older model Eagle wagon on patrol, while Chief Hester drove a Jeep Wagoneer. Chief Hester handled the day shift, while we handled the swing shift and stand-by. We came off patrol at 1 a.m. and was on standby until 5 a.m., he took over then. We were paid minimum pay for stand-by and normal pay per hour if called out.
I arrived up there in January of 1982 and immediately realized Skagway got a lot of snow and had tremendous winds. Blizzards were the norm from December until early March. I also learned that during these harsh winter months our main job was trying to stay awake and watch out for chimney fires. We also had a great volunteer fire dept and ambulance corps. But once tourist season began, we got smacked with police calls. Domestics, bar fights, disturbances in the camp grounds and vehicle accidents. Also lots and lots of stolen bicycles. Seems that the crewmen on the cruise ships loved to grab a bike and peddle back to the ship. They would then toss it off the dock. I caught a couple of them while fishing.
When I got there, Skagway didn't have any place to live and I was forced to live in that single jail cell. I lived there for a couple of weeks, until a 10' x 40' trailer finally opened and I was able to send for Mona. But while living in the jail cell, where more than 12 men had committed suicide and dozens of men and women were held for insanity, I learned for the first time about spiritual warfare and it became clear right from the start how the enemy was extremely upset to have me there in town. The attacks began that first night and will continue on in my next entry. God Bless!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Moose Pass Journal/Dillingham Cases/ 7/5/11
Bill Says: This is my 2nd attempt to write this entry. The first attempt, nearly finished, simply vanished and I couldn't locate it again. Anyway, this is my last entry for the Dillingham cases and will move on to my Skagway cases. Understand, I had a lot more notable cases in Dillingham, but these were the ones I wanted to record and didn't want to write a book about it. There were homicides, sexual assaults and child abuse cases, plane crashes and boats sinking. But I wanted to closeout Dillingham with the strange happenings of our last days there and how Mona and I barely escaped with our lives and of how there were a few moments there I wasn't sure we were going to make it out of town. The entire department had resigned over a heated issue and I was left as the only officer for a two week period, with the closest back-up being in Anchorage.
I've told this story to my children and family members, and they have often looked at me with eyes of disbelief. But war stories are like that. Only those who have lived through them truly feel the actual fear and excitement. But what I say here is true and the effect it had on us only hardened Mona and I's relationship- for we had gone through the fire together and I discovered just how strong willed and courageous my beloved wife was.
I was scheduled to attend the police academy in October through November of 1981, but this didn't happen. For in the fall of that year, after all the visitors, workers and fishermen had departed town, a rather strange set of events was to transpire.
It began with a simple disturbance call out to one of the aircraft charters at the airport. The new owner and the old owner and his son were getting into it over a financial issue. Sgt Rick and Officer Andy were dispatched. Andy was just coming on duty and he had gone along to back-up Rick. The disturbance escalated and Rick was forced into a situation where he had to arrest the old owner and his adult son for Assault, Disorderly Conduct and Trespassing. The man and his son didn't take it well and threatened, "I'll have your badge for this!"
Within days, this old owner, who had lived in town for over 20-years and was white, stirred up all his old friends and trouble developed. enough trouble that Chief Gray had us working twelve hour shifts and CJ was back riding with me. The old owner had money in the local radio station and soon, the station was inviting people in to state their old grudges against the police. A lot of these were unfounded and had come from long before Chief Gray took over. Some were down right idiotic, but they were given radio time. The bars turned real nasty, with us walking into taunts, threats and a lot of obscene words. But the chief ordered us not to take any actions unless assaulted physically. It was tough. By this time, Mona had left her job at the bank and was now working for the new owner of the charter service and with so much trouble arising, she was carrying one of our revolvers in her purse.
At one point, our dispatcher received a report of a disturbance from the Woman's Crisis Center. This was the home for battered women and we occasionally visited there when irate husbands showed up to claim their spouses. This place was located at the very end of Wood River Road, isolated and off of a cuddle sack surrounded by 6-8 foot tall bushes shaped in a u-shape. A single lane dirt road went down a steep hillside to reach the woman's center.
On our way there, our dispatcher received another call from our former dog catcher- Norman, who warned that we were driving into an ambush. Friends of the old owner had decided to escalate the situation. Our dispatcher than called the crisis center and learned they had no problem. So, CJ and I decided to pull up onto a knoll we knew of that overlooked the cuddle sack and kept our blazer hidden from view. We had learned of this place by making some juvenile drug busts out there. We waited. We saw no vehicles, but knew there was another area off in the distance to park vehicles and be hidden. Thankfully, we pulled into our area and not theirs. Sure enough, about 15-minutes of nervous watching with binoculars, the heavy brush began to move and 7-8 men stepped out with rifles in their hands. We would've driven right into it and I probably wouldn't be typing this now if we had. I gave Norman a big hug later.
Now, I should say at this point that the native population of the town had stayed behind us. We had a good and trusting relationship with the Aleut and Eskimo people of Dillingham.But the white people had really gone sour toward us and the looks we got was disheartening to say the least. Sadly, there was only one native council member and this eventually led to a showdown. The council summoned Chief Gray, who ordered us to stay at the department and not attend the council meeting or even be seen around the city hall building. The meeting was being carried over the local radio. By this time we had a lot of run-ins with loud mouth locals and a lot of arrests were made. Our state trooper was dispatched out of town, so he wasn't able to assist us and maybe that was fortunate for him. He would've sided with us and the political problems and eventual fall out would've effected his career.
Chief Gray stood silently as he was taunted by the attending crowd and hit with several insults by the town council. Eventually the native council member stood up in disgust and departed. This came after one council member told Chief Gray, "Do what you want with the natives, but leave us white folks alone!"
They ordered Chief Gray to dismiss all charges against the old owner and his son, but Chief Gray refused. The then ordered the suspension of Sgt Rick and Andy for official misconduct. Again he refused. Chief Gray then took his badge off and placed it on the table before the council and announced his immediate resignation.
He then departed and returned to the station. The council then took it upon themselves to suspend Sgt Rick and Andy. When they heard this over the radio, they handed their badges over to the Chief and announced their immediate resignations. CJ then resigned too. Leaving me. I couldn't resign. Mona and I didn't have enough money in the bank to leave Dillingham and needed one more pay check. I told the Chief I would be leaving in two weeks. I still had an 8-man reserve department to support me, but the next day the city manager disbanded the reserve department. Three of the dispatchers resigned too, but two of them stayed on for the next two weeks.
It was now up to me to respond to all of the calls and without back-up of any kind, unless it came in from Anchorage. The department and all its equipment was now in my hands and I felt like throwing up. I had all the patrol vehicles parked at our apartment so I could watch over them. I then went on the local radio and advised the community I would only respond to emergency calls. Everything else had to be reported at the station to the dispatchers. I left one shotgun with the dispatchers, knowing they knew how to use it. I then had to go to work inventorying all the equipment to be handed over to the next chief. The council also ordered I no longer carry my nightstick, but was able to persuade them it was safer for me to carry it or I'd be forced to shoot some people without having my nightstick to handle the problem. The first week went by. I kept one shotgun by our bed and another by the front door. A lot of threats were made, but no actual attempts on our lives. Mona had to quit, but was still carrying her weapon as she was my only back-up. I escorted all the officers and the chief to the airport to ensure they flew out safely. CJ's wife, who had only recently flown up from Oregon to be with him, ended up having a nervous breakdown at the Anchorage airport and needed to be hospitalized. Sgt Rick returned to Texas, Andy went to Homer, Chief Gray to Washington state and CJ to Oregon.
I was interviewed by Anchorage papers, Anchorage radio and some Seattle people. The council tried to get me to drop the charges against the old owner and his son, but the charges were now in the DA's hands and I wasn't going to have them drop. I mean really, this guy tried to get me killed.
Then the Alaska State Troopers stepped in an a trooper corporal and two town tamer troopers moved in to assist me. One of the troopers, known to be a trouble shooter, began riding with me and boy, did we get into a lot of fight together. He was the best man I'd ever seen with a PR-24 nightstick and he just loved to fight. Once he had his uniform shirt torn off of him and he just smiled as he weighed in. We made a lot of arrest that week. Now it was time for Mona and I to leave. I gave my badge over to the City Manager, but felt like spitting on his desk top. He never supported us. I gave my inventory logs over to him and presented one copy to the trooper corporal to ensure nothing hinky went on with all the evidence stored at the department.
The troopers escorted Mona and I to the airport and we flew south. I couldn't believe how much tension I was under. Felt much like when I left Viet Nam. but that episode in our lives was over and another about to begin. We were unemployed for about 7-months and during that time I got to know Mona's fantastic family, who I fell in love with, learned how to sort potatoes and nearly killed my sister-in-law and I while driving a ten-ton tractor through Salem to deliver to my brother-in-law. I realized I didn't really know how to drive one of these things and can still recall Leslie's frightened expressions as I came to a stop nearly in the middle of a busy intersection. Mona got to meet my family too and she actually worked her way through my father's tough exterior to become friends. Most importantly, I gave my life over to the Lord Jesus during this time and was baptized in my father's boss's hot tub in Phoenix, Arizona.
I had just resigned a security guard position when we got a call from Skagway, Alaska. I hadn't applied there, but Chief Gray had contacted Chief Hester in Skagway and endorsed me for the job of patrolman. Chief Hester called, I looked to Mona and she nodded her head. We were ready to return to Alaska.
I realized later how this was a God appointment. Here I was a brand new Christian walking into a township caught in the grip of Satan. We soon found ourselves up against a witches coven, ghosts of all shapes and sizes, hauntings and a rather large stuff grizzly that liked to move about. Fun times.
I've told this story to my children and family members, and they have often looked at me with eyes of disbelief. But war stories are like that. Only those who have lived through them truly feel the actual fear and excitement. But what I say here is true and the effect it had on us only hardened Mona and I's relationship- for we had gone through the fire together and I discovered just how strong willed and courageous my beloved wife was.
I was scheduled to attend the police academy in October through November of 1981, but this didn't happen. For in the fall of that year, after all the visitors, workers and fishermen had departed town, a rather strange set of events was to transpire.
It began with a simple disturbance call out to one of the aircraft charters at the airport. The new owner and the old owner and his son were getting into it over a financial issue. Sgt Rick and Officer Andy were dispatched. Andy was just coming on duty and he had gone along to back-up Rick. The disturbance escalated and Rick was forced into a situation where he had to arrest the old owner and his adult son for Assault, Disorderly Conduct and Trespassing. The man and his son didn't take it well and threatened, "I'll have your badge for this!"
Within days, this old owner, who had lived in town for over 20-years and was white, stirred up all his old friends and trouble developed. enough trouble that Chief Gray had us working twelve hour shifts and CJ was back riding with me. The old owner had money in the local radio station and soon, the station was inviting people in to state their old grudges against the police. A lot of these were unfounded and had come from long before Chief Gray took over. Some were down right idiotic, but they were given radio time. The bars turned real nasty, with us walking into taunts, threats and a lot of obscene words. But the chief ordered us not to take any actions unless assaulted physically. It was tough. By this time, Mona had left her job at the bank and was now working for the new owner of the charter service and with so much trouble arising, she was carrying one of our revolvers in her purse.
At one point, our dispatcher received a report of a disturbance from the Woman's Crisis Center. This was the home for battered women and we occasionally visited there when irate husbands showed up to claim their spouses. This place was located at the very end of Wood River Road, isolated and off of a cuddle sack surrounded by 6-8 foot tall bushes shaped in a u-shape. A single lane dirt road went down a steep hillside to reach the woman's center.
On our way there, our dispatcher received another call from our former dog catcher- Norman, who warned that we were driving into an ambush. Friends of the old owner had decided to escalate the situation. Our dispatcher than called the crisis center and learned they had no problem. So, CJ and I decided to pull up onto a knoll we knew of that overlooked the cuddle sack and kept our blazer hidden from view. We had learned of this place by making some juvenile drug busts out there. We waited. We saw no vehicles, but knew there was another area off in the distance to park vehicles and be hidden. Thankfully, we pulled into our area and not theirs. Sure enough, about 15-minutes of nervous watching with binoculars, the heavy brush began to move and 7-8 men stepped out with rifles in their hands. We would've driven right into it and I probably wouldn't be typing this now if we had. I gave Norman a big hug later.
Now, I should say at this point that the native population of the town had stayed behind us. We had a good and trusting relationship with the Aleut and Eskimo people of Dillingham.But the white people had really gone sour toward us and the looks we got was disheartening to say the least. Sadly, there was only one native council member and this eventually led to a showdown. The council summoned Chief Gray, who ordered us to stay at the department and not attend the council meeting or even be seen around the city hall building. The meeting was being carried over the local radio. By this time we had a lot of run-ins with loud mouth locals and a lot of arrests were made. Our state trooper was dispatched out of town, so he wasn't able to assist us and maybe that was fortunate for him. He would've sided with us and the political problems and eventual fall out would've effected his career.
Chief Gray stood silently as he was taunted by the attending crowd and hit with several insults by the town council. Eventually the native council member stood up in disgust and departed. This came after one council member told Chief Gray, "Do what you want with the natives, but leave us white folks alone!"
They ordered Chief Gray to dismiss all charges against the old owner and his son, but Chief Gray refused. The then ordered the suspension of Sgt Rick and Andy for official misconduct. Again he refused. Chief Gray then took his badge off and placed it on the table before the council and announced his immediate resignation.
He then departed and returned to the station. The council then took it upon themselves to suspend Sgt Rick and Andy. When they heard this over the radio, they handed their badges over to the Chief and announced their immediate resignations. CJ then resigned too. Leaving me. I couldn't resign. Mona and I didn't have enough money in the bank to leave Dillingham and needed one more pay check. I told the Chief I would be leaving in two weeks. I still had an 8-man reserve department to support me, but the next day the city manager disbanded the reserve department. Three of the dispatchers resigned too, but two of them stayed on for the next two weeks.
It was now up to me to respond to all of the calls and without back-up of any kind, unless it came in from Anchorage. The department and all its equipment was now in my hands and I felt like throwing up. I had all the patrol vehicles parked at our apartment so I could watch over them. I then went on the local radio and advised the community I would only respond to emergency calls. Everything else had to be reported at the station to the dispatchers. I left one shotgun with the dispatchers, knowing they knew how to use it. I then had to go to work inventorying all the equipment to be handed over to the next chief. The council also ordered I no longer carry my nightstick, but was able to persuade them it was safer for me to carry it or I'd be forced to shoot some people without having my nightstick to handle the problem. The first week went by. I kept one shotgun by our bed and another by the front door. A lot of threats were made, but no actual attempts on our lives. Mona had to quit, but was still carrying her weapon as she was my only back-up. I escorted all the officers and the chief to the airport to ensure they flew out safely. CJ's wife, who had only recently flown up from Oregon to be with him, ended up having a nervous breakdown at the Anchorage airport and needed to be hospitalized. Sgt Rick returned to Texas, Andy went to Homer, Chief Gray to Washington state and CJ to Oregon.
I was interviewed by Anchorage papers, Anchorage radio and some Seattle people. The council tried to get me to drop the charges against the old owner and his son, but the charges were now in the DA's hands and I wasn't going to have them drop. I mean really, this guy tried to get me killed.
Then the Alaska State Troopers stepped in an a trooper corporal and two town tamer troopers moved in to assist me. One of the troopers, known to be a trouble shooter, began riding with me and boy, did we get into a lot of fight together. He was the best man I'd ever seen with a PR-24 nightstick and he just loved to fight. Once he had his uniform shirt torn off of him and he just smiled as he weighed in. We made a lot of arrest that week. Now it was time for Mona and I to leave. I gave my badge over to the City Manager, but felt like spitting on his desk top. He never supported us. I gave my inventory logs over to him and presented one copy to the trooper corporal to ensure nothing hinky went on with all the evidence stored at the department.
The troopers escorted Mona and I to the airport and we flew south. I couldn't believe how much tension I was under. Felt much like when I left Viet Nam. but that episode in our lives was over and another about to begin. We were unemployed for about 7-months and during that time I got to know Mona's fantastic family, who I fell in love with, learned how to sort potatoes and nearly killed my sister-in-law and I while driving a ten-ton tractor through Salem to deliver to my brother-in-law. I realized I didn't really know how to drive one of these things and can still recall Leslie's frightened expressions as I came to a stop nearly in the middle of a busy intersection. Mona got to meet my family too and she actually worked her way through my father's tough exterior to become friends. Most importantly, I gave my life over to the Lord Jesus during this time and was baptized in my father's boss's hot tub in Phoenix, Arizona.
I had just resigned a security guard position when we got a call from Skagway, Alaska. I hadn't applied there, but Chief Gray had contacted Chief Hester in Skagway and endorsed me for the job of patrolman. Chief Hester called, I looked to Mona and she nodded her head. We were ready to return to Alaska.
I realized later how this was a God appointment. Here I was a brand new Christian walking into a township caught in the grip of Satan. We soon found ourselves up against a witches coven, ghosts of all shapes and sizes, hauntings and a rather large stuff grizzly that liked to move about. Fun times.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Moose Pass Journal Dillingham cases 7/4/11
Bill Says: One of the worst moments in my civilian police career came about in Dillingham in the mid summer of 1981. The Bristol Bay fishing fleet went on strike and the town of Dillingham blew up. We were forced to work 12-hour shifts, with two patrolman to a car. I of course got stuck with CJ, Chief Gray really enjoyed putting us together- I guess he hoped I could temper down CJ's foul temper. But like I said he was often a good partner to have in a bar fight.
That first night the anger over the strike surfaced with the burning of several fishing boats. People began shooting at each other, which made us feel like we were smack in the middle of some down home feud, and the bars turned hostile. We were dispatched from call to call and the volunteer fire department and ambulance squad was working around the clock. More than one volunteer simply quit. Cars were also set on fire and two dock buildings. Now understand this was all over a disagreement of 3 cents a pound for salmon. The buyers would only pay so much and the fishermen wanted 3 cents more. When the buyers wouldn't come across, the fishermen went on strike and to honor the strike, the Seattle fleet didn't move into Dillingham with their catches and sold to the large processors out in the ocean. Some of the Seattle boats simply carried their full holds back to Seattle.
It got to the point that I was responding to the bars with a shotgun in my arms, as we disarmed many of the fishermen carrying sidearms and even rifles. During one night of patrol with me driving, we were attacked by an unidentified shooter who took out the passenger window right behind my head, as we drove down the road. A couple inches to the left and I wouldn't be writing this now. We searched for the shooter, but we never found him...or her. The booze and the dope flowed, only adding to the problems. Everyone seemed to be carrying concealed filet knives and there were a lot of stabbings. I took a filet knife to the chest, but my bullet proof vest took almost of the point and I only had a trickle of blood to show I'd been stabbed and oh, the filet knife sticking out of my vest. Had I not been wearing the vest it would've really hurt. The knife came out of nowhere during a bar fight, but I found the suspect and took him in for attempted murder. It was later reduced to 2nd Degree Assault, since the man was drunk, still a felony and he went to jail. I was also attacked with a pool cue, but my nightstick saved my hide and blocked it. Oh what fun. I swore I would never ever-ever work another fishing strike again.
We would have some clown with a 30-30 rifle out on the very last boat, ( they be racked up together-leaning against one another with the tide out), and we'd have to go boat to boat to reach this dude. This happened more than once, several times actually. None of my earlier SWAT training ever covered this type of approach. We basically had to hide, then jump to the next boat and hide again, as shots rang out. But often or not by the time we finally reached the suspect he was past out from booze. Once I was almost in agreement with CJ to simply throw the guy off the boat and into the slime of the boat harbor and let the tide come in. But, we'd handcuff the guy and drag him boat to boat until we were back ashore.
One afternoon we responded to a shots fired call and came upon this intoxicated man, standing on a knoll with a high powered rifle shooting at people, dogs and anything within his view. As of yet, he hadn't hit anyone but had done a sizable amount of property damage. I think it was a 7 mm Ruger Rifle. So, CJ and I had to sneak up on him and disarm him. It took us sometime to get behind him, but we were able to tackle him and get the rifle away. Once the man sobered up he was so heartsick over his actions he even offered CJ and I both snowmobiles if we'd simply forgive him. There were constant calls like that. Motov cocktails, (gas bombs) thrown into structures or boats. Several boats in dry dock went up in flames and filled the skies with black smoke for hours. People were angry! Their livelihoods were being effected, but it didn't look like any agreement was going to be reached. At one point we had to bring in the Alaska State Trooper CERT (SWAT) Team to assist us and Chief Gray, a former trooper, hated having to call out for help. But we couldn't handle so many shooting calls at the same time. We were going to be busy for weeks on the paperwork and our district Attorney assigned to our city was looking at nearly 100 felony cases and three times that in misdemeanor charges. He ended up dropping more than half the lesser charges, but a lot of people went to jail for some serious time.
We had this one young shooter out in the low income HUD housing area, who had wounded his girl friend and then threw her out of the house. We surrounded the home and eventually stormed it with tear gas filling the structure- only to find him gone. But I knew this guy and suspected he was hiding out in the woods and waiting for us to pull out. So, I stayed behind, hidden under the house, which was a raised structure and waited. The rest of the guys had to respond to other calls and sure enough within fifteen minutes he came out of the woods and approached the house carrying his rifle. I was able to take him down without a problem and the girl friend survived. It just seemed to be like that for several nights and so little sleep.
When the strike finally came to an end, with the buyers agreeing to a two cent increase, a lot of people had been hurt and the property value of lost boats and structures went into the millions. We had insurance people all over the place the following week, but they wouldn't come in until the strike was over.
For us, we were simply worn out and looked forward to going back to the normal chaos of summertime. I got rid of CJ for awhile, his off color jokes and racism. But pretty soon we'd be back on 12-hour shifts and riding along together when the bottom fell out and the entire department ended up resigning- but that is for next time and my final chapter on Dillingham.
On another point of news- John Leroy Casselman is flying out tomorrow for Dillingham. He is to become the newest Dillingham Police Officer. Hold him in prayer. I understand the town has settled down quite a bit over the years, but it is still a fishing community and boy howdy do those people like to party!
That first night the anger over the strike surfaced with the burning of several fishing boats. People began shooting at each other, which made us feel like we were smack in the middle of some down home feud, and the bars turned hostile. We were dispatched from call to call and the volunteer fire department and ambulance squad was working around the clock. More than one volunteer simply quit. Cars were also set on fire and two dock buildings. Now understand this was all over a disagreement of 3 cents a pound for salmon. The buyers would only pay so much and the fishermen wanted 3 cents more. When the buyers wouldn't come across, the fishermen went on strike and to honor the strike, the Seattle fleet didn't move into Dillingham with their catches and sold to the large processors out in the ocean. Some of the Seattle boats simply carried their full holds back to Seattle.
It got to the point that I was responding to the bars with a shotgun in my arms, as we disarmed many of the fishermen carrying sidearms and even rifles. During one night of patrol with me driving, we were attacked by an unidentified shooter who took out the passenger window right behind my head, as we drove down the road. A couple inches to the left and I wouldn't be writing this now. We searched for the shooter, but we never found him...or her. The booze and the dope flowed, only adding to the problems. Everyone seemed to be carrying concealed filet knives and there were a lot of stabbings. I took a filet knife to the chest, but my bullet proof vest took almost of the point and I only had a trickle of blood to show I'd been stabbed and oh, the filet knife sticking out of my vest. Had I not been wearing the vest it would've really hurt. The knife came out of nowhere during a bar fight, but I found the suspect and took him in for attempted murder. It was later reduced to 2nd Degree Assault, since the man was drunk, still a felony and he went to jail. I was also attacked with a pool cue, but my nightstick saved my hide and blocked it. Oh what fun. I swore I would never ever-ever work another fishing strike again.
We would have some clown with a 30-30 rifle out on the very last boat, ( they be racked up together-leaning against one another with the tide out), and we'd have to go boat to boat to reach this dude. This happened more than once, several times actually. None of my earlier SWAT training ever covered this type of approach. We basically had to hide, then jump to the next boat and hide again, as shots rang out. But often or not by the time we finally reached the suspect he was past out from booze. Once I was almost in agreement with CJ to simply throw the guy off the boat and into the slime of the boat harbor and let the tide come in. But, we'd handcuff the guy and drag him boat to boat until we were back ashore.
One afternoon we responded to a shots fired call and came upon this intoxicated man, standing on a knoll with a high powered rifle shooting at people, dogs and anything within his view. As of yet, he hadn't hit anyone but had done a sizable amount of property damage. I think it was a 7 mm Ruger Rifle. So, CJ and I had to sneak up on him and disarm him. It took us sometime to get behind him, but we were able to tackle him and get the rifle away. Once the man sobered up he was so heartsick over his actions he even offered CJ and I both snowmobiles if we'd simply forgive him. There were constant calls like that. Motov cocktails, (gas bombs) thrown into structures or boats. Several boats in dry dock went up in flames and filled the skies with black smoke for hours. People were angry! Their livelihoods were being effected, but it didn't look like any agreement was going to be reached. At one point we had to bring in the Alaska State Trooper CERT (SWAT) Team to assist us and Chief Gray, a former trooper, hated having to call out for help. But we couldn't handle so many shooting calls at the same time. We were going to be busy for weeks on the paperwork and our district Attorney assigned to our city was looking at nearly 100 felony cases and three times that in misdemeanor charges. He ended up dropping more than half the lesser charges, but a lot of people went to jail for some serious time.
We had this one young shooter out in the low income HUD housing area, who had wounded his girl friend and then threw her out of the house. We surrounded the home and eventually stormed it with tear gas filling the structure- only to find him gone. But I knew this guy and suspected he was hiding out in the woods and waiting for us to pull out. So, I stayed behind, hidden under the house, which was a raised structure and waited. The rest of the guys had to respond to other calls and sure enough within fifteen minutes he came out of the woods and approached the house carrying his rifle. I was able to take him down without a problem and the girl friend survived. It just seemed to be like that for several nights and so little sleep.
When the strike finally came to an end, with the buyers agreeing to a two cent increase, a lot of people had been hurt and the property value of lost boats and structures went into the millions. We had insurance people all over the place the following week, but they wouldn't come in until the strike was over.
For us, we were simply worn out and looked forward to going back to the normal chaos of summertime. I got rid of CJ for awhile, his off color jokes and racism. But pretty soon we'd be back on 12-hour shifts and riding along together when the bottom fell out and the entire department ended up resigning- but that is for next time and my final chapter on Dillingham.
On another point of news- John Leroy Casselman is flying out tomorrow for Dillingham. He is to become the newest Dillingham Police Officer. Hold him in prayer. I understand the town has settled down quite a bit over the years, but it is still a fishing community and boy howdy do those people like to party!
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Moose Pass Journal Dillingham Case Con't 7/2/11
Bill Says: One of the things that helped to pass the time off between shifts were the practical jokes we played on each other. We had little social life in Dillingham, at least for me Mona eventually joined me and we had our own apartment. But while living with my fellow officers, everyone became a target to some form of joke or another.
CJ, my wannabe mercenary friend, smoked this vile pipe and we all finally reached a point that we couldn't take it any longer. I'm not sure what he used for tobacco but it smelled more like cow droppings. We knew that it was his practice in the morning to jump up from bed, do some exercises, which didn't seem to do anything for his portly figure and then jump into a long hot shower. This usually depleted our hot water supply for the next three hours. So, this one fine morning while he was doing his exercises, we rigged the shower for him and then waited in the living room for his expected response. What we did was take the head of a very large king salmon and shove it over the shower nozzle to make it look as if it was peering down upon him. We then inserted his beloved pipe in the mouth of the salmon in hopes CJ would get the idea we did not like his pipe smoking in the house. We had made verbal complaints and he hadn't listened. Sure enough, we heard this little girl like shriek and then some rather foul words emmanating from the bathroom. Then the door opened and the fish head came flying out, followed by his pipe and some down right nasty threats to our lives. CJ later laughed about it, but he kept his pipe smoking to the outside or in his patrol vehicle.
Our very well-liked sergeant was beginning to display some raw nerves following a series of violent arrests and we all decided it was time for a joke to let him release some of the tension. Well, Sgt Rick Mazac, a Texas boy, drove this old blue blazer for a patrol vehicle, which had this single rotating red and blue light on top. Two of the officers, ( I wasn't involved in the initial stages of this one), located a deceased beaver out on the road and brought it back to the apartment. In the early morning hours, we- (yes, now I was involved), set the beaver up wrapped around the roof's single police light. We made it appear the beaver was going for a ride, but holding on for dear life. We thought Rick would come out, see the beaver and explode, releasing some of his tension and then laugh it off. That didn't happen. Well, not exactly the way we had planned. Rick, not having his morning coffee, never noticed the beaver. He started up his rig and went driving off with all of us wondering what might happen since he was now driving off with a dead beaver on his roof top. Me, I went back to bed. The others waited around for the bomb to go off and they didn't have to wait long. Rick was driving down the road and a single line of blood began to run down his windshield. This caused Rick to jerk his car off the road, nearly hitting another vehicle and when he found the beaver on top, which was shared by several onlookers- our beloved sergeant was not a happy camper. We buried the beaver and soon afterward, Rick exploded into laughter and he began planning his revenge.
Microwaves were booby-trapped, hot water turned off, tires flattened, engine parts missing and police reports began missing- which required the officer to redo same. The list was long, but it helped us keep our sanity in a troubled location. We never messed with each other's police gear, but anything else was open game. I swiped all of Don's master keys for a day from his locksmith work table and of course no one trusted the white sugar container- knowing someone had put salt in it and the refrigerator became one big bomb shell. Leftovers were sprinkled with many a vile ingrediant and so it went.
One morning I was ordered by Chief Gray, ( this was all prearranged), to arrest Rick for official misconduct. So, I woke him up and in his sleepy state I arrested him and put him into handcuffs. I was selected because I was big enough to handle Rick. rick was demanding to know what was going on but I had the handcuffs on him before he was totally awake. I dragged him kicking and screaming outside, still in his underwear and secured him in my patrol vehicle. I was under order not to talk with him. I transported him to the courthouse and led him inside to face the magistrate. There, all the officers were waiting and the magistrate became official and proceeded to read off the charges. There were no real charges. The magistrate was reading off the Rick's record of arrests and investigations. Chief Gray then approached with Rick's new uniform which now bore the stripes of a sergeant. Rick was speechless and it also came with a large increase in pay. I then apologized for my treatment of him and he took it quite well- but I was ready for him to come back at me in some fashion- good-natured of course. Rick was a good man.
On one Saturday morning I was working late in helping a young man locate his stolen bicycle, which he badly needed for his job. We were on one side of town and CJ, who was now on duty, had entered into a pursuit of a dirt motorcycle with two riders on and he was requesting me to back him up. I quickly accelerated with my police lights going and my frightened passenger, who apparently didn't trust my driving , desiring me to stop to let him off. I was close to begging by the end of the chase. I told him to hold on and was going about 70 mph on a dirt road. Had I been the passenger I might've been reluctant too. CJ was coming from the other direction and right behind the motorcycle. The passenger on the bike was "flipping" CJ off and CJ never took that quite well. We merged at an intersection and the motorcycle got past me and on to a dirt trail that ran adjacent the airport's runway. CJ's suburban was much to heavy to continue pursuit, but I stayed behind the bike and was soon going airborne as we hit the bumps. Now I felt like Steve McQueen on the movie Bullet. The bike went into the air and then I would soon follow, and my poor passenger on the verge of jumping out to get away from me. finally the motorcycle hit one too many bumps and when it came down the driver lost control and spilled the bike, sending passenger and rider off in opposite directions. The passenger was knocked cold and the driver, a youth of about 17 yrs, rolled for several feet and came to rest in one of the many old cemeteries Dillingham had scattered about, (during the flu epidemic of the mid 1900's the town had lost hundreds of people to the disease). But when I reached him he was sitting up against a grave stone, semi-conscious and above his head was the typical Rest In Peace. I had to laugh and when I looked around, my terrified passenger had vanished into the woods. I guess he realized actual police work was far different the TV police stuff. We arrested both offenders and CJ was happy to learn the bike was stolen and it took me some doing to keep his hands off these stupid kids. He was a bully, but in a nasty bar fight he was a good man to have beside you and we fought many a bar fight together in Dillingham. Fishermen are a rowdy bunch, especially in a fish strike.
So that was some of the funny side of Dillingham and even Chief Gray got into it. We all got together and pulled a practical joke on our chief dispatcher. Karen was a city girl from the 48, who had joined her husband in Dillingham and needed a job to keep her busy. She was college grad with a degree in business, our best typist and handled the emergencies quite well. BUT she did not like being the victim of a joke.
At the point in time CJ and Chief Gray sincerely disliked one another and CJ was at a point where he was either going to be shot by the chief or fired. Sincerely, it was getting bad and we, the officers, decided to step in. During shooting practice, we finally got them to talk it out and peace was once more on this earth. Then the sergeant got the idea to pull a joke on Karen. So, Chieg Gray entered the office first, ranting and raving about CJ's latest misconduct, went into his office and slammed the door. Then CJ dashes in, threats sputtering from his lips against the chief and he storms into Chief Gray's office and slams the door behind him. Shouts and threats follow from inside the office and then a shot rings out from inside the room. Karen is terrified one had shot the other and she wasn't sure who was the shooter and who was the victim. That's when we walked in, having finished our shooting practice and she is standing there in tears, pointing at the chief's office door. She blubbers out what had happened, so we all rush in and there are three more shots. She is now about to fall apart and headed for the phone to call the fire chief and EMT's out. That's when we open the door and are all smiling at her with these cat just ate the tweety bird looks. Boy, was she angry with us. She actually threw the computer monitor at us, then the typewriter and other desk thingees soon followed. She then walked out and no one saw her for two days. We were sure worried we had had gone too far, but she eventually came back and there was no mention of the event ever again. Great joke though! Only cost us a new typewriter and computer monitor, but at least CJ and the Chief were talking again.
Goodbye!
CJ, my wannabe mercenary friend, smoked this vile pipe and we all finally reached a point that we couldn't take it any longer. I'm not sure what he used for tobacco but it smelled more like cow droppings. We knew that it was his practice in the morning to jump up from bed, do some exercises, which didn't seem to do anything for his portly figure and then jump into a long hot shower. This usually depleted our hot water supply for the next three hours. So, this one fine morning while he was doing his exercises, we rigged the shower for him and then waited in the living room for his expected response. What we did was take the head of a very large king salmon and shove it over the shower nozzle to make it look as if it was peering down upon him. We then inserted his beloved pipe in the mouth of the salmon in hopes CJ would get the idea we did not like his pipe smoking in the house. We had made verbal complaints and he hadn't listened. Sure enough, we heard this little girl like shriek and then some rather foul words emmanating from the bathroom. Then the door opened and the fish head came flying out, followed by his pipe and some down right nasty threats to our lives. CJ later laughed about it, but he kept his pipe smoking to the outside or in his patrol vehicle.
Our very well-liked sergeant was beginning to display some raw nerves following a series of violent arrests and we all decided it was time for a joke to let him release some of the tension. Well, Sgt Rick Mazac, a Texas boy, drove this old blue blazer for a patrol vehicle, which had this single rotating red and blue light on top. Two of the officers, ( I wasn't involved in the initial stages of this one), located a deceased beaver out on the road and brought it back to the apartment. In the early morning hours, we- (yes, now I was involved), set the beaver up wrapped around the roof's single police light. We made it appear the beaver was going for a ride, but holding on for dear life. We thought Rick would come out, see the beaver and explode, releasing some of his tension and then laugh it off. That didn't happen. Well, not exactly the way we had planned. Rick, not having his morning coffee, never noticed the beaver. He started up his rig and went driving off with all of us wondering what might happen since he was now driving off with a dead beaver on his roof top. Me, I went back to bed. The others waited around for the bomb to go off and they didn't have to wait long. Rick was driving down the road and a single line of blood began to run down his windshield. This caused Rick to jerk his car off the road, nearly hitting another vehicle and when he found the beaver on top, which was shared by several onlookers- our beloved sergeant was not a happy camper. We buried the beaver and soon afterward, Rick exploded into laughter and he began planning his revenge.
Microwaves were booby-trapped, hot water turned off, tires flattened, engine parts missing and police reports began missing- which required the officer to redo same. The list was long, but it helped us keep our sanity in a troubled location. We never messed with each other's police gear, but anything else was open game. I swiped all of Don's master keys for a day from his locksmith work table and of course no one trusted the white sugar container- knowing someone had put salt in it and the refrigerator became one big bomb shell. Leftovers were sprinkled with many a vile ingrediant and so it went.
One morning I was ordered by Chief Gray, ( this was all prearranged), to arrest Rick for official misconduct. So, I woke him up and in his sleepy state I arrested him and put him into handcuffs. I was selected because I was big enough to handle Rick. rick was demanding to know what was going on but I had the handcuffs on him before he was totally awake. I dragged him kicking and screaming outside, still in his underwear and secured him in my patrol vehicle. I was under order not to talk with him. I transported him to the courthouse and led him inside to face the magistrate. There, all the officers were waiting and the magistrate became official and proceeded to read off the charges. There were no real charges. The magistrate was reading off the Rick's record of arrests and investigations. Chief Gray then approached with Rick's new uniform which now bore the stripes of a sergeant. Rick was speechless and it also came with a large increase in pay. I then apologized for my treatment of him and he took it quite well- but I was ready for him to come back at me in some fashion- good-natured of course. Rick was a good man.
On one Saturday morning I was working late in helping a young man locate his stolen bicycle, which he badly needed for his job. We were on one side of town and CJ, who was now on duty, had entered into a pursuit of a dirt motorcycle with two riders on and he was requesting me to back him up. I quickly accelerated with my police lights going and my frightened passenger, who apparently didn't trust my driving , desiring me to stop to let him off. I was close to begging by the end of the chase. I told him to hold on and was going about 70 mph on a dirt road. Had I been the passenger I might've been reluctant too. CJ was coming from the other direction and right behind the motorcycle. The passenger on the bike was "flipping" CJ off and CJ never took that quite well. We merged at an intersection and the motorcycle got past me and on to a dirt trail that ran adjacent the airport's runway. CJ's suburban was much to heavy to continue pursuit, but I stayed behind the bike and was soon going airborne as we hit the bumps. Now I felt like Steve McQueen on the movie Bullet. The bike went into the air and then I would soon follow, and my poor passenger on the verge of jumping out to get away from me. finally the motorcycle hit one too many bumps and when it came down the driver lost control and spilled the bike, sending passenger and rider off in opposite directions. The passenger was knocked cold and the driver, a youth of about 17 yrs, rolled for several feet and came to rest in one of the many old cemeteries Dillingham had scattered about, (during the flu epidemic of the mid 1900's the town had lost hundreds of people to the disease). But when I reached him he was sitting up against a grave stone, semi-conscious and above his head was the typical Rest In Peace. I had to laugh and when I looked around, my terrified passenger had vanished into the woods. I guess he realized actual police work was far different the TV police stuff. We arrested both offenders and CJ was happy to learn the bike was stolen and it took me some doing to keep his hands off these stupid kids. He was a bully, but in a nasty bar fight he was a good man to have beside you and we fought many a bar fight together in Dillingham. Fishermen are a rowdy bunch, especially in a fish strike.
So that was some of the funny side of Dillingham and even Chief Gray got into it. We all got together and pulled a practical joke on our chief dispatcher. Karen was a city girl from the 48, who had joined her husband in Dillingham and needed a job to keep her busy. She was college grad with a degree in business, our best typist and handled the emergencies quite well. BUT she did not like being the victim of a joke.
At the point in time CJ and Chief Gray sincerely disliked one another and CJ was at a point where he was either going to be shot by the chief or fired. Sincerely, it was getting bad and we, the officers, decided to step in. During shooting practice, we finally got them to talk it out and peace was once more on this earth. Then the sergeant got the idea to pull a joke on Karen. So, Chieg Gray entered the office first, ranting and raving about CJ's latest misconduct, went into his office and slammed the door. Then CJ dashes in, threats sputtering from his lips against the chief and he storms into Chief Gray's office and slams the door behind him. Shouts and threats follow from inside the office and then a shot rings out from inside the room. Karen is terrified one had shot the other and she wasn't sure who was the shooter and who was the victim. That's when we walked in, having finished our shooting practice and she is standing there in tears, pointing at the chief's office door. She blubbers out what had happened, so we all rush in and there are three more shots. She is now about to fall apart and headed for the phone to call the fire chief and EMT's out. That's when we open the door and are all smiling at her with these cat just ate the tweety bird looks. Boy, was she angry with us. She actually threw the computer monitor at us, then the typewriter and other desk thingees soon followed. She then walked out and no one saw her for two days. We were sure worried we had had gone too far, but she eventually came back and there was no mention of the event ever again. Great joke though! Only cost us a new typewriter and computer monitor, but at least CJ and the Chief were talking again.
Goodbye!
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