Town Cop

Dedicated to Theresa Sparling, a good friend and recent companion.

Written By: Dick Johnson (AKA- Al Diwinson)

Dick Johnson TOWN COP Copyright 2011 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any without written permission of the author and publisher. Published by: Dick Johnson Art work on the cover (Wine, Women and Wrong) was the creation of Theresa Sparling. Boxer/image on front cover courtesy of Mountaineer Newspaper, Rocky Mountain House, Alberta, Canada means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,

Digitally printeD in canaDa by

ISBN 978-1-897544-57-0

This story was written with the intent to stimulate the thoughts and actions of a person that may be over indulging in alcoholic beverages.

part or total, without the written permission of the author or a duly appointed representative of the author, Dick Johnson, (AKA) Al Diwinson.

This story cannot be reproduced in any way, in

Thanks Theresa, for your faith in me and the many snacks and meals you prepared on the journey to complete the book Town Cop.

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Table of Contents

Introduction ................................................................................. 1
A Prelude to Town Cop .............................................................. 12 The Fire Department and Boxing ........................................... 25

Chapter One Chapter Two

Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

Gone to Northern Mines and Taxi Driving ........................... 33 On a Plane, Going South .......................................................... 44

Baseball, a Broken Elbow ......................................................... 49 After Broken Arm...................................................................... 55

Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

Im Chief of Police! .................................................................... 70 Fringe Benefits ........................................................................... 78 A Boxing Club, the Big Fight ................................................... 94

The Lumberjacks Fund, and the New Chief ................... 109

Chapter Eleven

After the Fight.......................................................................... 106

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

The Dance ..................................................................................117

Shes Pregnant ......................................................................... 126

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Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen

Fight the Penhold Airforce Base Heavyweight .................. 131

Red on the Hotel Room Floor................................................ 139 Contest for Steaks!................................................................... 153

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen

Gunning for Someone ............................................................ 159 Shoot Stray Dogs .................................................................... 164

The Contortionist .................................................................... 175 Baseball at Stavely ................................................................... 179

Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One Chapter Twenty Two

Return to Rocky Mountain House and Car Accident ........ 187 Another Police Job .................................................................. 192

Marilyn and I to be Parents?.................................................. 199 A Native Reserve Dance......................................................... 209

Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Twenty Four Chapter Twenty Five Chapter Twenty Six

Cop Jailed ................................................................................. 213

Restless Again .......................................................................... 242 Another Police Job, Another Child ....................................... 257 Caf Wrecked by Oil Workers ............................................... 276

Chapter Twenty Seven Chapter Twenty Eight Chapter Twenty Nine Chapter Thirty

My Freedom ............................................................................. 231

Ball Player Jailed ..................................................................... 284

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A Helper, a Necktie Party .................................................. 289 The Elbow Operation ............................................................. 298

Chapter Thirty One Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three Chapter Thirty Four Chapter Thirty Five Chapter Thirty Six

A Friendly Neighbour .......................................................... 305 A Beast in the Car ................................................................ 309

The Car Chase.......................................................................... 325 To Vancouver, See Dad ........................................................... 332 Court for a Councillor ............................................................ 349

Chapter Thirty Seven Chapter Thirty Eight Chapter Thirty Nine Chapter Forty

Dad Passes Away .................................................................... 352 Big Fight, Three Down ........................................................... 365

Theft at the Hotel .................................................................... 375

Chapter Forty One Chapter Forty Two

The Country Dance, the Model ............................................. 380 House a Fire Trap, Another Child......................................... 390

Beginning of the End .............................................................. 403 The Stakeout ............................................................................ 412

Chapter Forty Three Chapter Forty Four Chapter Forty Five Chapter Forty Six

I Leave Town, Alone ............................................................... 425

Dead or Dead Tired? ............................................................... 429

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Preface

I first began writing the book Town Cop in 1988, and with a total of approximately 19,000 words completed; I was on a roll. My exceptionally great and wonderful wife of 27 years, Stella, passed away on July 7, 1989, and I quit writing. In 2008, Theresa Sparling encouraged me to finish the story Town Cop. With her understanding and belief in my ability, the book was completed. The story Town Cop is based on true events relating to the far past which took place in towns and villages in the 1950s and early 1960s. The story is true as remembered by the author and main character in the story, Dick Johnson, who was a policeman in these towns. Most names of people, locations and businesses will be fictitious to respect the wishes of those who may not want to be identified for various reasons. However, some names wont be fictitious; other names may closely resemble reality. Town Cop depicts the many interesting, exciting, and some time dangerous aspects of policing in the early days, also the life and personal encounters experienced by the author and main character of the story, Dick Johnson, also known as (A.K.A.) Al Diwinson, a name derived by a combination of family names as follows: Albert, Dick, Winna, Johnson. Albert was my dad, Dick is myself, Winna is my mother, and Johnson is my last name, which equals Al Diwinson. Al Diwinson will be my Nom De Plume as an author for further books, stories and poetry.

Introduction

I was born in Drumheller, Alberta, Canada, July 18, 1933. I was named Richard Lougheed Johnson, (the name Richard was changed to Dick when I boxed professionally). My dads name was Albert, my mothers Winna; my parents had been blessed with two girls and two boys before my adventure into the world of the living. Seventeen years later a welcome addition, Curtis, was added to our family, another son for Mother and Dad and all of us to enjoy. Dad worked as a mine electrician in coal mines in and around Drumheller, then moved quite often for better pay. Mother had been a school teacher, but now very capably looked after six children. This was a good normal life, I dont ever remember going hungry. In my younger days we lived in quite a large city known as Edmonton, Alberta, a coal mine was situated on the eastern outskirts. My Dad worked at that mine. My oldest brother was still in the army; my two sisters now were on their own. My Dad secured work at the Negus gold mine near Yellowknife, N.W.T. My brother Leonard, three years older than I, myself and our mother, months later joined dad. At the age of eleven I was quite restless and ambitious; setting bowling pins at the recreation centre at the mine was fun and lucrative. I went to school in Yellowknife the last four months of 1944 and first six months of 1945 to the end of June, I was eleven years old coming on to twelve in July.

Town Cop

I was hired on as a camp attendant, basically, the camp flunky, for a surveying and prospecting company about sixty miles from Yellowknife. The transportation to the camp was by a double wing bush-plane, a biplane. The runway we landed on was quite a large lake; the plane was fitted with pontoons for the summer. In the winter skis would be installed to land on lakes and snow covered runways. The cook tent at camp was about twenty feet by fourteen feet with a big iron wood cook stove. We scrounged the wood from small dead, dry trees that were around our camp. No heat was in any of the other tents, though it did get a little nippy out some nights. There were cupboards and a long table with benches on both sides. Just the necessities in that large tent, but all very serviceable. A dugout had been made in the hard sand by the lake, covered by a board lid, to keep meat and other produce cool. About thirty feet from the cook tent was two more fairly large tents for the survey crew. By itself a few feet away was a small tent for the camp boss, who was also the surveyor and geologist. There was about twelve of us at camp, counting myself and the lady cook. The lady cook was about twenty-eight or thirty years old, quite good lookin, and friendly and easy to work with. My job description included peeling potatoes and other vegetables, also taking out garbage, setting the table, helping with dish washing or whatever was needed. Our sleeping accommodations consisted of a bunk made of wood planks with spruce branches on them for mattresses. Actually it was quite comfortable; the food was also very good. The crew was helpful and friendly, I was enjoying myself at the Wilderness Ranch. The semi-barren land in the summertime with a sparkling clean lake to swim in and a few animals and birds as wild pets. A squirrel would venture into the cookhouse to scrounge a few peanuts or whatever we might have for him, hed eat out of my hand. I had enticed a muskrat to follow me to the cookhouse from his watery marsh where he lives. This little critter got to be very friendly, running around on the long plank

Introduction

table, Id feed him potato and carrot peelings, and lettuce when I could sneak some. One day the little critter was playing on the table, I tried to pick him up as Id done other times. I dropped him on the dirt floor, he wasnt happy when I picked him up; his sharp teeth came down on my thumb. He was excited, not mad or hurt - we were still friends. A northern ptarmigan (about the size of a prairie chicken) would come around each morning, at the same time, I was ready with some oatmeal for the comical little bird, I guess he, or she, enjoyed the morning porridge. One sad morning my bird friend had breakfast and was outside pecking around in the grass. All of the sudden it flapped around and then flipped onto its side... it was dead. We had a funeral and a burial; the boss said a few words at the grave site. There was a young bald eagle in a nest in a flimsy spruce tree across the lake. The men thought I might like it as a pet. Four of the guys and myself started across the lake in a fourteen foot canoe, on a nice calm Sunday afternoon. There was the tree with the eagles nest, but the eagle parents were not about to let anyone climb up to the nest. One of the guys cut the tree down with an axe we had. As it hit the ground there was the baby eagle flapping around on the ground, not quite old enough to fly. We used a small

Bald eagle

Town Cop

fish net to throw over the eagle, then grabbed it and put it in the canoe. For some reason I didnt think we were doing a good thing, I felt sorry for that poor eagle. We tied a thin thirty foot rope to the eagles one leg and tied the other end to a small tree away from the cook tent. I fed and watered that bird, but to tame it was impossible, every time I came near it up went those sharp talons on its feet. There was no way I could get close to that independent bird; it had over five feet of wing span. The way the wings flapped I was sure it could fly if it didnt have that rope on its leg. At my request the men put the fish net over the now quite large bird then took the rope off. The eagle tested its wings on the sandy shore of the lake then it was gone. What a wonderful sight, nature at its best. The employment of the cook came to a sudden end one day. The float plane from Yellowknife landed on the lake, a big, obviously unhappy man about thirty years old got out of the plane before the pilot. To my knowledge he looked like hed been drinking, as he hurried to the cook tent. I could hear the argument in the tent; outside was a good place for me, was my decision. Helping the pilot unload our supplies was my task, so didnt have to listen to the people in the tent. Now this fella that just got off the plane is packing a suitcase in his right hand, another under his right arm, He had the cook lady holding her with his left hand taking her to the plane. The pilot of the plane, his name was George, just looked at me, motioned the cook would be gone and grinned at me. I said, who the heck is going to do the cooking? George just kept that crazy grin on his face and said, You, I guess. The plane is gone, Im standing alone by myself, no cook, ten hungry men coming back about 5 PM. Guess I know what I have to do, Ive got a couple of hours till the men arrive. Potatoes, steaks, carrots, canned corn and peaches for desert. Sort of fresh bread was delivered today, well eat quite well Im thinking. I did do a little cooking to surprise mom when I was nine years old.

Introduction

For a treat therell be chocolate fudge, Ive got all the ingredients and the know-how. It will be cooled while resting in a pan on the lake. The fellas are at camp now, hungry and tired, they wash at the outdoor facilities, which is the lake. As they come into the cookhouse, questions are asked about the cook as shes not there. One of the men said, Im glad she made supper before she left. My look towards him showed the sadness in my eyes. He says, Whats the matter with you? I just walked out of the cookhouse. All the other men went outside to where I was, standing by the lake. I said, And heres the chocolate fudge that I made for you fellas. You mean you made supper? the camp boss says. Yes, the cook left early this afternoon, you guys would probably be hungry so theres a good supper for all of you, now help to do dishes would be nice, was my more or less happy statement. I informed them all how the cook left and assured them all meals would be prepared, with a little help. They all chipped in. Everything went very well. One day the boss and I were walking along beside a shallow ravine about a mile or so from camp. I came along to keep him company as the others were surveying and staking another area. Across this ravine was a big Grey Wolf, when we would stop the wolf stopped and gazed at us with its haunting eyes, as wolfs have. All we had was a geologists hammer with us, no gun. This was getting a little hard on the nerves, was he a scout for the pack? Each time we stopped, he did too. Scary for sure, but we got back to camp without getting eaten up. The next time, we take a gun for sure. It was nice at the lake resort, the cooking was appreciated, but it was getting close to the end of august and time for me to leave. Oh yah, on my twelfth birthday, July 18th, the guys had sort of a party for me; one of them made a cake out of pancake mix and put

Town Cop

a lit wooden match in it. I had to make a wish, then blow out the match, that was fun, they all sang happy birthday. Yes, now Im leaving, with hugs from the guys and I get onto Georges float plane. A woman and man came with George; they were the cook and camp attendant that had been hired. George, the pilot, came to our Lake from sixty miles away with no trouble, now what? As we approached our landing spot on the lake by Yellowknife, the plane was nose diving straight down; right towards the water. My God, were gonna crash, but no- just over the water George levels out and makes a perfect landing on the water. Were you scared? George asks. No, no, Im fine, I lied, he got me pretty good. Now Im home to the joy of my parents, maybe. Now Im told were all leaving Yellowknife, Okay, if its necessary. Why though, I never did know. We only stayed up north a year, Dad got restless Im thinking. By the way my dads name was Albert Johnson; he chummed around with the R.C.M.P. up north. No, he was not the Albert Johnson that was known as the Mad Trapper in the northern territory in the 1930s. The R.C.M.P. did however joke with dad and called him the Mad Trapper. We came back to the big city of Edmonton where dad had worked at a mine previously. I went to an older big three story brick school house for awhile, the McKay Avenue School; I was twelve years old in grade six. Boxing was the main sport in that school, a gym with a boxing ring was situated on the top floor of the school, and it was for grades seven, eight and nine. My interest in the great science of boxing was stimulated by the fact my brother Leonard was quite seriously involved in boxing, and was very good. I talked the powers to be there into letting me join boxing. I trained for about a week or so then fought a kid that was about twenty five pounds heavier than me. This kid just put his head down like a little bull and pummelled the stuffing out of me. From that day on I decided to learn to fight, and I did.

Introduction

In June of 1945, I was still in that school, the McKay Ave School in Edmonton where I boxed with the other kid. My schoolmates and I decided that the price of chocolate bars was much too high. The price for a chocolate bar was seven cents, it had been raised from five cents, this we all agreed was an absolute disaster, and no one should have to pay the unheard of price of seven cents. We were out to change the world, well the price of chocolate bars anyway. About thirty of us gathered at the school on a nice sunny Saturday afternoon. We all made signs depicting the unfairness of the seven cent chocolate bars. We were all on bicycles touring from west to east along Jasper Avenue, in Edmonton, at about 2 PM, when the streets were very busy. Lucky we werent arrested or something. Many car horns honked for us, but the chocolate bars stayed at seven cents. It was fun anyway. My dads next move was to a small mining community close to the mountains, by the name of Foothills. Three coal mining communities were within three miles of each other, Sterco, Coal Valley, and Foothills as well as other mining communities within about seventy miles; they were Mercoal, Cadomin, Mountain Park, Luscar, and Robb. The area was good rugged country with moose, deer and elk in abundance. A few incidents occurred that I had never forgotten all my life and the consequences lingered on as life went on. At the age of fifteen while playing hockey in a roughly constructed outdoor skating rink, I was rushing down the ice with the puck, hitting a crack in the ice, down I went contacting the rink boards hard. My right skate had caught in a small opening in the boards as my body was turning over. My right ankle was broken. A rough cast was placed on the ankle by the local doctor. No x-ray was available; the nearest hospital was forty eight miles away. The road there was snowed in; it was four days before it was possible to take me to the hospital in Edson. My ankle had to be re-broken in order to be set properly, this wasnt an easy task. I was given a stick of chewing gum and a glass of water and was seated. The doctor gave my ankle a violent twist, and it broke again. Now

Town Cop

they could set it properly into place. God that hurt, but hopefully it will heal up ok now. Hockey season was coming to an end; I had been playing for the school team, before the ankle breakage, as the youngest player on the team. The cast on my ankle was to stay for a minimum of six weeks, it was not quite four weeks, and I cut the cast off and practiced skating on the local community rink at about ten or eleven in the evening when it was dark. Even after my ankle was broken, I played defence at our playoffs in a town about sixty miles to the west, in the mountains, by the name of Cadomin. I was on the ice for most of the game as our team was short of players. On the way home from hockey I got so sick, dying would have been welcome. Of course I did survive and lived to play baseball, no, not hockey, the ankle I discovered was too weak for that. I was an exceptionally good baseball player though, catching was my best position. I played for the mens team, the Coal Valley Coal Kings, when I was fifteen and sixteen years old, we won many tournaments. I discovered as a catcher that with a fielders glove it was easier to catch the baseball with my left hand, and then drop it to the right hand then throw to second base. I then remodelled a catchers mitt to do the same. In my younger days there was something I just couldnt understand. My dad always tried to discourage me in everything I did. According to him I was not as good as anyone else, whether it was hockey, boxing, baseball or any activity. So many times he bragged up others and called me down. Its strange he never suggested throwing the ball around, or maybe having the boxing gloves on with me. I always wondered if Dad was negatively criticizing me so Id try harder in everything in life. In the future I did, sometimes to the extreme. One little incident that I recall, and actually cant forget, happened at the local community hall one evening about 7 PM. I was fifteen years old at the time, waiting for others to come there for a boxing session. I was in the kitchen area to get my running shoes and the boxing gloves which were stored there. The others

Introduction

were to be there about 8 PM. The big doors at the front of the hall opened and closed, guess someone else is coming there early, Im thinking. Look who comes into the hall kitchen, Reanna Ranowski, a beautiful fifteen year old girl, who goes to a school in a large town about fifty miles east of here, Edson. Her Dad and brothers work at the mine in Foothills. Reanna came home on the holidays and walks up the road past our house to see her married sister sometimes. I used to watch her every step of the way, from the time she came into sight til she entered her sisters place. Anyway, Reanna is now in the hall kitchen. For no particular reason Im sitting on the counter near the sink, Reanna says, Whatcha doin sittin in the sink? A nervous but confident laugh was my response, Guess I just about hit the sink when I landed up here. If I had, you probably would have turned the water on and tried to drown me, was my conclusion. No Richie, (my mother called me that, I wasnt pleased with the name), you wouldnt want me to get your precious parts wet now would you? she devilishly smiled. She had now placed my legs, which were loosely dangling over the kitchen counter around her and her hand was resting on the parts she said were precious. Now what! I could have died with excitement! She was saying something about no one will be coming for quite some time and we could have fun, or was I just thinking that? She felt really nice with her body pressed against me. Whats this? The big front doors of the hall opened and closed; someone else was coming in early! Reanna moved away from me very reluctantly and slowly. Our intruder was Jim Bailey, the son of the mine Pit boss. Jim goes to university in the city of Edmonton, but comes to stay with his parents when on holidays from school. Hes about eighteen years old, quite a handsome character and also into sports. Jim arrives into the kitchen, Whats up? he says.

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Town Cop

If he had looked closer, he would have seen what was up. Just having a friendly visit, I informed him in not too pleasant of a voice. Oh, sorry to break up your little party, he smirked. I should bash his head in was my first thought, better cool it though. Reanna was just standing there admiring Jim, ya, I guess they knew each other, how well Id rather not think about that. Reanna and Jim were having a great conversation and were walking towards the big doors of the hall, but stopped short and sat down on the long bench attached to the wall. I had been walking with them, but felt ignored, so kept walking through the first doors going to the outer door. A cloak room was situated in the area between the doors; I opened and closed the outer door then snuck into the cloak room. Reanna and Jim were just on the other side on the bench, an opening with a sort of grate window about one foot by one foot was installed in the opening, I could hear Jim and Reanna talking and kissing. It just took a couple of minutes, I was gone, and slammed the main outside door as I left, Im sure they heard it. Walking home tears stung my eyes, is that the way girls are Im wondering? I think of Dad, Im quite sure he has had other ladies, maybe thats the way life goes. Dad had the opportunity to socialize in the many places he lived til the rest of the family arrived to be with him. I did have the opportunity to get a little revenge where Jim was concerned a few days after that episode in the community hall with him and Reanna. Jim was more than willing to be a participant in a boxing session with me. It was obvious he had not heard that at my young age of fifteen I had beaten all-comers with the eight ounce boxing gloves on. This included a former professional middleweight, 160 lb class from Wales. Jim didnt look so good after a couple of minutes, bleeding nose and all. For a second I wished that Reanna had seen the

Introduction

11

boxing, but this wish evaporated when I began to feel sorry for Jim, I could have cooled it. I didnt sleep too well that night.

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