Gunplay In the Hollywood Hills
Hit or Miss
The wind kicked up golden dust as the California sun beat down on Tom O'Connor's house in the Hollywood Hills. Looking up from his deck, you saw the HOLLYWOOD sign on a barren brown mountain. The red dome of the Griffith Observatory across the canyon caught the late afternoon light.
Tom was tall and broad, with arms like oak limbs. As a post-war contractor, he pioneered stilt-built hillside homes in Los Angeles. He was a crew-cut bare-knuckle bruiser, a natural storyteller, an outrageous bullshitter, and a Jesuit-trained philosopher.
Tom fired pistols with his friends in a gun range built under the house. Playing cards clipped to bailing wire hung as targets, with one card turned sideways - an impossible shot. Everyone tried and missed. They drank beer and missed some more. They were all hammer-swinging builders, rough men with big hands and leather skin.
Jack watched Tom shoot. Jack's starched uniform stuck to his lean frame. He was 6'4", 185 pounds, two inches taller, and 50 pounds lighter than his big brother. At 19, Jack flew fighters in the Army Air Corps. At 24, he was newly married and just starting the Los Angeles Police Academy.
Tom enjoyed teasing his little brother, "Come on, Wyatt Earp," he mocked, a crooked grin split his rugged face. "Show us greenhorns how it's done."
In later years, Jack would say, "Tom taught me how to take a punch. Once he hit me so hard I flew across the room and broke through the double doors, landing on the patio. He was the strongest man I ever knew."
Jack hesitated. He had his service revolver in a clamshell holster. He knew his hand shook during target practice.
Tom kept at him. "Come on, show us what you can do...Officer."
Finally, Jack stepped quickly to the line, drew, and shot from the hip. His bullet cut the sideways card clean through.
Everyone stared slack-jawed as the card fragments drifted to the dirt.
Tom's face reddened. "Lucky shot!" he bellowed."Come on, let's see you do it again."
Jack smiled and shook his head. Savoring a rare moment. One and done. He turned and climbed the creaking stairs. "It's no challenge shooting against you guys," he grinned.
Jack decided to leave the tables turned.
No encore needed.
The Hollywood sign caught my eye. I moved to LA just out of high school and lived in the Wiltshire area just below that sign. I moved from the northern most part of rural Wisconsin. My first husband and I were newly weds. The experience was a culture shock.
Your stories awakened my memories of similar experiences. Experiences that make us who we are today. Experiences I believed to be mine alone, but allow me to empathize.
Great stories!