071521

FROM EMAIL:

Hi Craig,

FYI,,,,I just received a call from Linda Kennedy.  She indicated that she had just received a email from
John Trussler’s wife Christine, informing her that John Trussler had passed away on Thursday July 1st.  No plans yet for a memorial service.

If you would pass this along to our fellow retirees, I would appreciate it.

Thanks,

   Rich Vizzusi 

Jack Baxter:

John tried to murder me one night. Not for my big mouth or any of the usual reasons but out of spite and through his failure to act.

He was my first Sgt. In the H-cars & my partner Domonic Brocato was off so he decided to work H-1 and allow me to benefit from his exceptional wisdom. He drove, naturally so I could view his superior driving skill.

Cruising around rooting out criminal activity we were munching on health food. Soon I ingested or inhaled to many chocolate BonBons & began choking. As I continued gagging my eyes watering and my face turning bright blue I looked over to see John too had tears in his eyes.

Tears of uncontrollable laughter which continued while death came running. He actually pointed his finger at me while he laughed.

Where was his superior first aid skills. No “a quick check.” I’m dying Sarge.

Finally I was able to choke up a baseball size chocolate missile which I spit across his shining turquoise Matador. That stopped his fiendish laughter momentarily.

Once he saw he wasn’t going to have to dump my body in Alviso he determined it was now time for counseling.

With almost a straight face he proceeded to point out what a dumb SOB I was. How I had drooled on my badge and spit sticky BonBons all over his immaculate dust free dashboard.

Eating BonBons in the car when I should have been ever vigilant for crime was a disgrace to our super crime fighting unit.

That was all the counseling he could get out before we both broke out laughing.

He was a great Sergeant who never took himself to seriously. So many stories of John. So much fun. He was definitely one of a kind and will not soon be forgotten.

Adios my friend I’ll see you on the other side. I’ll bring the BonBons.

John was the best. Always fun to work with and to torment.

I saw John in the old downstairs PAB coffee rom. He tried buying something from a vending machine and it ate him money. Frustrated and almost late for briefing he gave the evil machine a good kick.

In a flash the hideout gun he had in an ankle holster came flying out across the room and bounced off the wall. That got everyone running out laughing while John cursed and the machine was heard to chuckle.

 

WAR STORIES! WE NEED MORE WAR STORIES!
***

From: Dennis & Patti McKenzie <>

Hello everyone,
It is with great sadness that we have to announce that Jack Woodall just passed away.

Sandy McCullough called this evening to say that Jack passed away this morning at 11am. He was under hospice care and had been suffering from heart and kidney failure. Some years ago he battled and beat throat cancer and now had to battle for his life once again. He was a good friend to all of us and a role model to any who knew him. Jack will be greatly missed. We have no further information but will pass on any updates should we get them.

Take care of each other,
Dennis&Patti McKenzie

OK, JUST NOTICED JEFF MUNKS REMINICING ON FACEBOOK:

It’s 104 degrees outside and any thoughts I had of doing a little work in the yard evaporated in the shimmers of heat rising off the concrete patio out back.
Instead, I spent a little time rummaging through old boxes on a shelf in the garage.  There, I found a delightful memory from 37 years ago, a time when I was still wearing the Blue for the San Jose Police Department:
The top patch in this photo was commissioned by the City of San Jose.  Patches like this one have been worn proudly since 1849 by a select group of men and women who took the oath to protect and serve their community.   A subset of that group experienced something very special during the McNamara era, when SJPD emerged as a global leader in law enforcement for its field training program.  The department was nicknamed The Chiefs Factory for the number of cops who went on to become chiefs of police in other cities nationwide.
The bottom patch in this photo was commissioned and produced by yours truly after spending the first of several six month tours of duty working Beat 74; The Alviso Car.  That patch was designed to be worn on a baseball cap and was given only to cops who volunteered to work one of the most fascinating police beats in the country.
Beat 74 started at the intersection of Hwy 101 and Hwy 17, just east of the San Jose Airport.  From there, it stretched north and expanded to the east and west east like an eight mile long piece of pizza, all the way to the shores of San Francisco Bay.  There, it reached westward all the way to Moffett Field in Mt. View.  In the east, it was bounded by The Nimitz Freeway in Milpitas.  
Within the boundaries of Beat 74, you would find a mix of high and very low end residential housing, industrial and commercial businesses, hi-tech businesses, tech manufacturing plants, regular and by-the-hour motels, restaurants, mobile home parks, Sutter’s Club, an old-time card room, the Town of Alviso, and the Alviso Yacht Harbor.  Yup, an honest to goodness yacht harbor.  Well, to be honest, it used to be an honest to goodness yacht harbor about a hundred years ago.  By the middle 1980s, it was not much more than a mud slick; home too a couple dozen boats that rested on their sides in the gooey yuck when the tide was out and then rose to float more-or-less freely when the tide came back in.  
While finding mooring anywhere else on San Francisco Bay would require years on a waiting list and a monthly fee that could exceed the cost of your home mortgage, a slip or anchorage in Alviso could be secured the day that you applied for it and would only cost you a dollar per foot.  So, your 30 foot catamaran would set you back thirty bucks a month.  Of course you could only get out of the harbor at high tide and then, only if you were able to navigate the incredibly long and narrow serpentine channel out to open water before the tide went out again.  But, still, thirty bucks a month?  Such a deal.
Just east of Alviso, still within the bounds of Beat 74 stood one of the world’s largest sewage treatment facilities.  That massive, sprawling plant treated 100% of the poo generated by the good residents of San Jose and some of the surrounding areas.  And much of it, once treated, was flushed into the south end of San Francisco Bay making that body of water one of the most interesting petri dishes to be found along California’s west coast.
I’ll never forget working the Alviso Car on January 20, 1985, the day the SF 49ers beat the Miami Dolphins in Superbowl XIX at Stanford Stadium.  At halftime, everyone in San Jose who was watching the game (read: EVERYONE IN SAN JOSE) had to take a potty break because, you know, pre-game food, snacks during the first half, and beer.  Lots of beer.  
Well, just before halftime ended, and as if conducted by a symphony maestro, everyone in the City flushed their toilets at the same time and that sent way more poo down the lines to Alviso than the sewage plant was designed to handle.  The result?  As I drove north through Alviso, all the manhole covers blew out of their holes and enormous geysers of poo erupted like mini-Krakatoas, filling the streets with massive quantities of absolute ickiness.  
I radioed Dispatch and asked them to contact public works and the sewage treatment plant.  It took a moment for them to get back to me and when they did, I was told the plant was designed to handle a surge capacity of not more than 5% of all toilets being flushed at the same time.  The Superbowl had resulted in a Superflush at halftime and that resulted in a major Oops.  Public Works came out to replace the manhole covers and I ran my patrol car through a self-serve car wash before returning to the barn.  Yup, there were some interesting times to be had in Alviso.
During those years, Alviso was a major transhipment point for brown tar heroin coming up from Mexico.  Mexican nationals would make connections in Alviso and their loads would get divided with some going up the Peninsula for distribution through East Palo Alto and some going up the East Bay for distribution through Oakland.  
After handling three OD deaths from exceptionally pure heroin in Alviso, I turned a dead user’s girlfriend and wound up catching a dealer with 36 wads of black tar.  Of course, with the justice system the way it was and still is in California, the dealer was released from County Jail on minimal bail and promptly beat feet for Mexico.  But addicts stopped dying in Alviso for a while, so that was a good thing.
The stories out of Alviso, and the rest of Beat 74 could fill a book.  In fact, they did!  You can read about them if you like in Book Two of The Copper Chronicles (Amazon).  But I digress.  Back to the patch…
Since the hat patch was not an authorized part of the SJPD uniform, it was NEVER worn on duty.  Scouts Honor.  It was, however, spotted adorning the heads of cops who worked the Alviso Car as they wandered about PAB and the locker room in their civilian clothes both before and after shift.
Every element of the patch represented something symbolic that would resonate with a San Jose cop who worked Beat 74:
Gateway to San Jose:  Throughout much of the 19th Century, Alviso was known as The Gateway to San Jose.  Before the crooks in City Hall damed the Guadalupe River, downtown San Jose had a deep water port where merchant vessels plied their trade. The river emptied into San Francisco Bay at Alviso and the town truly was the gateway to all points south, especially San Jose. 
Little Venice:  The wetlands and beautiful waterways around Alviso offered some of the best waterfowl hunting anywhere in the western states and the area was replete with hunting lodges built on posts.  It became the go-to spot for the San Francisco glitterati who wanted to show off their prowess with the latest Italian bird guns.
The Sailboat:  Was inspired by an actual single-masted sail boat with a caved-in hull that was permanently mired in the muck at the far north/east end of the Alviso Yacht Harbor.  In ten years at San Jose, I never saw a person on or near that boat.  Its sail pays homage to its home; Beat 74.
The Dog:  The vast open fields and swamplands north of Hwy 237 between The Nimitz Freeway and the east boundary of Alviso were home to several packs of wild dogs.  Gang bangers from East San Jose would buy Pit Bulls and Rottweilers and Dobermans as puppies, thinking they’d raise a bad looking dog to add just the right amount of machismo to compliment their swagger.  Then, the dogs would grow up and the bangers would freak out over how much work it was to care for such an animal.  So, the dog would go into the Chevy, the Chevy would drive to the Levee, and Fido would get tossed out to join one of the many and ever-present wild packs that would roam the wetlands and make life downright dangerous for anyone foolish enough to jog or bicycle in that area.
The Toilet:  As mentioned above, the San Jose Sewage Treatment Plant was a marvel of modern engineering.  Except on Superbowl Sundays.
The Blue Background:  Was a symbolic reminder of the color that San Francisco Bay used to be in the days before enlightened city planners decided it would make a great cesspool. 
There were two hat patches in the old box I opened this afternoon.  After nearly 40 years, they’re still in pristine condition.  
To my old friends who put their hearts and souls into the Blue at SJPD, if you worked The Alviso Car back in the day and you didn’t get a patch, feel free to DM me.  I’d be happy to send these two patches to good homes.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

25+ Years SJPD



 

WHAT’S UP IN SAN JOSE?

SJPD Arrests Suspect for Underground Fencing Operation
SJPD Investigates Suspect for Sex with Minors
Over 50 Specialized Units & Assignments
More

  • Downtown. Population 87,113. 214 % …
  • Fairgrounds. Population 55,586. 58 % …
  • East San Jose. Population 114,567. 20 % …
  • North San Jose. Population 25,144. 14 % …
  • Buena Vista. Population 1,423. …
  • Santa Teresa. Population 55,095. …
  • Willow Glen. Population 74,025. …
  • Alum Rock-East Foothills. Population 38,948.

SOME GUY CALLING HIMSELF “MARK BELL” SENT ME THESE PICS OF A MOTLEY CREW OF MISFITS TRYING TO PASS THEM OFF AS RETIREES! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!
APPARENTLY SOME PACK OF MOTOR RATS GIVING A PLACE A BAD NAME.
IF ANYBODY KNOWS THEIR NAMES, EMAIL ME AND i’LL FILL IN.

?,?,?,John Glover, Karol
Greg Morrill, John Grover, Karol, ?,?
Clockwise: Richard Baily, Mark Bell, Greg Morrill, Sal Esposito (SCSO),
his wife, Patti, Karol, John Grover.


?,?
Mark Bell,

Mark Bell, Greg Morrill, Kim Wirht, Richard Bailey

 

Graduates Of The Online Towing Academy

Some beautiful, some whimsical, some weird, some cute animals, and some jokes!















































“Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.”– Orhan Pamuk 


SJPD’s First Bike Detail. 1983-1984. Fred Esparza, Phil Beltran , Jim Anderson,
Bud Harrington and Larry Campbell. 

***CAUTION, POLITICS!***
Former Olympian Slams Transgender Athletes In Women’s Sports:
‘It’s Very Upsetting And Stressful’

President Joe Biden appeared to struggle at times during Thursday’s White House press conference and got testy with a reporter who asked him about Afghanistan, which was the subject of the press conference.

Biden Snaps At Reporter, Struggles With Questions About Afghanistan
At Press Conference

And….. His Vice President:


WORLD OVER POPULATION CRISIS!



























An Arizona Highway Patrol officer stops a Harley for traveling faster than the posted speed limit, so he asks the biker his name.

‘Fred,’ he replies.

‘Fred what?’ the officer asks.

‘Just Fred,’ the man responds.

The officer is in a good mood, thinks he might just give the biker a break, and write him out a warning instead of a ticket. The officer then presses him for the last name.

The man tells him that he used to have a last name but lost it.

The officer thinks that he has a nut case on his hands but plays along with it. ‘Tell me, Fred, how did you lose your last name?’

The biker replies, ‘It’s a long story, so stay with me.’ I was born Fred Johnson. I studied hard and got good grades. When I got older, I realized that I wanted to be a doctor. I went through college, medical school, internship, residency, and finally got my degree, so I was Fred Johnson, MD. After a while I got bored being a doctor, so I decided to go back to school. Dentistry was my dream! Got all the way through School, got my degree, so then I was Fred Johnson, MD, DDS. Got bored doing dentistry, so I started fooling around with my assistant and she gave me VD, so now I was Fred Johnson, MD, DDS, with VD.

Well, the ADA found out about the VD, so they took away my DDS. Then I was Fred Johnson, MD, with VD. Then the AMA found out about the ADA taking away my DDS because of the VD, so they took away my MD leaving me as Fred Johnson with VD. Then the VD took away my Johnson, so now I am Just Fred.’

The officer walked away in tears, laughing.