I guess this is kinda like having a ticket stub to Woodstock. If you lived here back then you remember how much fun Halloween could be (well maybe for people that ran faster)? All in all a very good night especially when my friends Kenny & Glen got to meet my dad at the police station (I would mention their last names but have caught way too much grief for naming names). If you were there & have ever felt guilty about anything don't, to quote something somewhere I paid for you sins. :):):)
I was out throwing eggs tonight when I had a Judge Stanley flashback and quit mid-throw. That big dufuss judge made me pick up trash along the beach for five straight weekends for running a beach chair up the Cove Inn flagpole. I also had to write a letter of apology to several merchants,and bar/restaurant, barber shop, etc, owners near the flag pole, and the owner, not the manager, the owner of the Cove Inn, who lived in Chicago and was probably high up in The Outfit. Stanley insisted that the letter be typed, include my home address. He also reviewed the letter for content. It was not as cool as the letter I got published in the Penthouse Forum that Naples High English teacher Don Glancy gave me an A for the whole semester for.
ReplyDeleteI had my own run in with both Sgt. Spohn and Judge Stanley. Sgt. Spohn caught me and another loyal Naples Eagle "road racing" west on 8th Ave N. after barreling out of high school parking lot, south on Goodlette Road and through the back of Lake Park (Goodlette Road [paved] used to stop just past 14th Ave N.).
ReplyDeleteJust so happens that Sgt. Spohn was backed in to a yard on 8th (his, I think) waiting for "them high school gear heads", so it wasn't much of a chase, we were just flat "busted".
Judge Stanley was an imposing figure for a 16 year old kid in 1965. We called him the “hangin’ judge” as he had a reputation for sending unruly teens off to “Okeechobee” which was the “reform school” of the day. He had a photo file of really bad wrecks he would make you view, in hopes of "scaring you straight" (or make you puke). "Yes, your honor; no, your honor; I promise your honor...." Thirty-days suspended license and 6 months probation. Whew, no "hard time" LOL.
I gotta confess, I may have indirectly helped Brookside Homeboy get his 1970 jail time (he knows this story).
Halloween 1965 or 1966: My runnin’ buddies and I were lobbing eggs down by the Beach Store and the “Old Hotel”. Sgt. Spohn was down there trying to catch us in the act, so he was circling the block. At one point he stopped and got out of his patrol car . . . he left the door open . . . Big mistake!!! A salvo of eggs launched directly at that open car door . . . we didn’t stick around to see how many hit their target, and we never did get caught, but you can bet when ol’ BHB got busted a few years later it was not going to be pleasant. Sorry Brookside . . .
I worked at the Cove Inn in the late 60’s as bellman, desk clerk, and night audit. The head representative from the Chicago group was Al Barron. I worked for a variety of managers over 3 years until Kenny Schryver (R.I.P.) and Associates came in and helped turn it into a paying operation. I remember watching the moon landing on the lobby TV in 1969. The beauty shop in the lobby was "Laverne & Howard Coiffeurs International".
Kudos to Mr. Glancy (R.I.P.)
1:30 p.m. PST
Who would of thought there was going to be a cover charge for that party.
ReplyDeleteHomeboy you are the only person I know of that was ever caught for egging, except for me (I was caught by a clothes line in some body’s backyard) ouch!
You were probable running down the streets and not through the yards.
Naples Daily News: Young man shot and killed while running from police. The autopsy
showed traces of egg yolk in his pockets.
We decided to egg houses in Park Shore from their backyards. Things were going well until we didn't see some old farter drinking a beer on his reclining beach chair in his screened in porch. When we blasted a sliding glass door with eggs, he yelled, I got a gun!" We blitzed through his hedge and fell into a swimming pool. That was the night we met the great NOPD policeman Bob Woodell. In a high squeaky voice, strange for an ex radio dj, he ordered us to stay in the pool treading water until more cops showed up.
ReplyDelete--Vic & Gill