Shortly after being discharged from the Army in March 1971, I landed a job at Montgomery Wards department store working in the paint department. A year later I quit Wards to become the night manager at Michael’s Liquor store on PCH, just north of Pier Avenue.
I thought it would be cool to work at a liquor store near the beach, selling chips and booze to young adults preparing to party. I also believed it would get me invited to all those parties on the weekend from the customers buying their kegs for their bashes on the Strand. I was right.
However the greatest aspect of working at Michaels proved to be the other employees. Since a large part of the business was alcohol deliveries to those parties, Michael, the owner, implemented a very successful hiring system. He only employed hot-looking chicks to make deliveries (sorry you PC police, but that’s what we called them back when nobody gave a crap).
So while working Friday and Saturday nights, I was surrounded with three or four attractive beach girls. Being 23 and a Vietnam veteran made for the perfect atmosphere to impress the nubile young ladies and their friends. However, that’s a tantalizing tale for another day.
The cash register at the counter was equipped with a silent alarm. In the cash drawer one of the holders for bills had an electronic contact that would send a silent alarm to the Hermosa Beach police department when the bill was removed. Obviously that bill was to remain in place unless we were being robbed.
One evening while working in the storeroom one of the girls came rushing back in a panic. She had accidently removed the $20 bill from the alarm tray setting off the silent alarm. As previously instructed for such situations, I immediately called the PD to notify them of the mistake and assure them there was no problem, and no need to come out.
The sergeant I talked to told me to go out front immediately because there would be officers there any moment. I hung up and walked to the front.
Before I reached the counter I heard car tires screeching on PCH. Through the large glass front windows of the store I witnessed three cop cars quickly stop in the middle of the street. In seconds four officers jumped from their patrol cars raised their shotguns aiming them directly at me.
At the same instant four police officers from both sides of the building rushed into the store and pointed their hand guns at the two female employees, the one customer at the counter and me. If memory serves me correctly, there were a total of nine officers inside and on PCH. We all simultaneously raised our hands as I blurted out, “It’s okay, it was a mistake, it’s okay.”
At the same time a man wearing a suit entered the store and asked if I was the manager. Nodding my head yes he ordered me outside as the other officers remained inside with their guns still drawn. Sweating and heart racing I followed him around the building out of sight of those remaining inside.
“We like to get the person outside in case there are hostages inside. Is it safe in there, son?” I softly answered his question. “Yes, there’s no problem. The girl at the register accidently pulled the bill out of the alarm tray. I called the police department but you guys were already on the way.”
The next question was a little weird and surprised me. “Does that tall blonde chick have a boyfriend?” he whispered as he winked at me. “I don’t think so,” I whispered back. “Okay, Pete (I had a name tag). we’re outta here. One of the officers will stick around to complete his report. Thanks, and tell the ladies to be more careful.”
Within two minutes all of the officers but one were gone.
The entire, stressful ordeal lasted about five minutes. After helping the officer with his report, I decided to try and impress the delivery girls with my calm demeanor and fatherly advice. I really wanted to give them each a long, firm hug; however, I was sweating like a pig and my hands were trembling.
