Read Online Fire Lover by Joseph Wambaugh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Wambaugh
Tags: General, True Crime
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friends.
He reported that during this period in his career he and his partner found a lot of incendiary devices, some of them involving a cigarette, a few matches, and a rubber band, which, in the case of brush fires, would be weighed down with a screw and tossed from a moving car.
But while the arson duo still made plenty of arrests, "like a typical married couple" we grew apart, he said. Typical for John Orr, that is, who by then had dumped three wives, while for Dennis Wilson, family took priority over his job.
Another blow to the partnering came when Wilson designed new business cards with two overlapping badges as a logo, fire and police, and there was no surprise which one was on top. John seethed.
As he recalled the inevitable rupture with his partner and all the slights that had preceded it, he made a claim that contradicted everything in his life since his rejection by the LAPD in 1971 for being "unsuitable." It was later said that his self - appraisal was breathtaking in its self - deception. He wrote:
Dennis never quite got it. I didn't want to be a cop, and even resented it when citizens and crooks said, "You're a cop, aren't you?" I was a fireman. The good guy. All I wanted from Dennis was a little credit once in a while. I just wanted acceptance.
Perhaps the unvarnished truth, and the very last word, so to speak, on John Orr's obsession with, and paranoia about, real cops can be gleaned from his relationship with one he'd dated periodically.
Many years after they'd broken up she had occasion to talk about the cop fixation that had gripped him. She implied that she'd been a kind of enabler, because after he'd begged, and cajoled, pleaded, and badgered her, she at last agreed to indulge him, and they met furtively in the basement of the fire station, where in full uniform - Sam Browne, gun, handcuffs, the works - she proved at last that he was more than suitable. John Orr got a real cop to give new meaning to "civil service," and risk her job and his, by getting down and whacking his weasel right there in the basement of the firehouse.
After the breakup of his third marriage, John moved in with a private investigator friend and part-time employer, Bill McLaughlin. Working for McLaughlin as a fire investigator helped his finances, what with a couple of kids and three ex-wives out there, but truth be told, he could never get enough of sleuthing, public or private. McLaughlin and his wife rented him a room in their hilltop home in Chevy Chase Canyon, in brush-fire country.
Some good things were happening to him. His article "Problems of the Firefighter Turned Arson Investigator" was published. It only paid $106, but now he could rightly call himself a professional writer.
Sometimes his sleuthing became a bit peculiar. He liked to have a drink after work with Bill McLaughlin to discuss his cases and to learn about PI methods, such as how to use electronic eavesdropping equipment. He thought that his fellow firefighters might be interested, so the next time a few of them got together for a brew, he brought up a scheme to install a bug in the office of the labor-negotiating team to see what they were going to offer the firefighters during contract talks. Saner voices prevailed and his offer was declined, since nobody wanted to get caught up in a firehouse version of Watergate. Still, he was undaunted and inordinately curious. He surreptitiously installed an electronic bug in the secretary's break room.
He said, "It worked just fine." No telling what juicy tidbits he picked up, even though if he'd been caught, his job would've been terminated on the spot, or he might have been jailed. It didn't seem to strike him as risky or outlandish.
John Orr had a take-home car, all the overtime pay he'd care to earn, and the best job in the city, but he felt it was time to study for promotion to fire captain. After all, he had the experience.
It appeared that the city of Glendale was having far more than its share of
He reported that during this period in his career he and his partner found a lot of incendiary devices, some of them involving a cigarette, a few matches, and a rubber band, which, in the case of brush fires, would be weighed down with a screw and tossed from a moving car.
But while the arson duo still made plenty of arrests, "like a typical married couple" we grew apart, he said. Typical for John Orr, that is, who by then had dumped three wives, while for Dennis Wilson, family took priority over his job.
Another blow to the partnering came when Wilson designed new business cards with two overlapping badges as a logo, fire and police, and there was no surprise which one was on top. John seethed.
As he recalled the inevitable rupture with his partner and all the slights that had preceded it, he made a claim that contradicted everything in his life since his rejection by the LAPD in 1971 for being "unsuitable." It was later said that his self - appraisal was breathtaking in its self - deception. He wrote:
Dennis never quite got it. I didn't want to be a cop, and even resented it when citizens and crooks said, "You're a cop, aren't you?" I was a fireman. The good guy. All I wanted from Dennis was a little credit once in a while. I just wanted acceptance.
Perhaps the unvarnished truth, and the very last word, so to speak, on John Orr's obsession with, and paranoia about, real cops can be gleaned from his relationship with one he'd dated periodically.
Many years after they'd broken up she had occasion to talk about the cop fixation that had gripped him. She implied that she'd been a kind of enabler, because after he'd begged, and cajoled, pleaded, and badgered her, she at last agreed to indulge him, and they met furtively in the basement of the fire station, where in full uniform - Sam Browne, gun, handcuffs, the works - she proved at last that he was more than suitable. John Orr got a real cop to give new meaning to "civil service," and risk her job and his, by getting down and whacking his weasel right there in the basement of the firehouse.
After the breakup of his third marriage, John moved in with a private investigator friend and part-time employer, Bill McLaughlin. Working for McLaughlin as a fire investigator helped his finances, what with a couple of kids and three ex-wives out there, but truth be told, he could never get enough of sleuthing, public or private. McLaughlin and his wife rented him a room in their hilltop home in Chevy Chase Canyon, in brush-fire country.
Some good things were happening to him. His article "Problems of the Firefighter Turned Arson Investigator" was published. It only paid $106, but now he could rightly call himself a professional writer.
Sometimes his sleuthing became a bit peculiar. He liked to have a drink after work with Bill McLaughlin to discuss his cases and to learn about PI methods, such as how to use electronic eavesdropping equipment. He thought that his fellow firefighters might be interested, so the next time a few of them got together for a brew, he brought up a scheme to install a bug in the office of the labor-negotiating team to see what they were going to offer the firefighters during contract talks. Saner voices prevailed and his offer was declined, since nobody wanted to get caught up in a firehouse version of Watergate. Still, he was undaunted and inordinately curious. He surreptitiously installed an electronic bug in the secretary's break room.
He said, "It worked just fine." No telling what juicy tidbits he picked up, even though if he'd been caught, his job would've been terminated on the spot, or he might have been jailed. It didn't seem to strike him as risky or outlandish.
John Orr had a take-home car, all the overtime pay he'd care to earn, and the best job in the city, but he felt it was time to study for promotion to fire captain. After all, he had the experience.
It appeared that the city of Glendale was having far more than its share of
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