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iLollywood^s
Police Record
The Best Brawls Are Held In Beverly or Santa Monica
By DOROTHY MANNERS
Forgery 4
Robbery 2
Vagrancy 1
Gambling 9
Drunks 25
Dead Bodies ... 4
Guns 1
Vice 32
— ane
A
"— ^ND that," said Captain John McCaleb of the Hollj-wood Station, "is a pretty orderly showing on the month's
police blotter for a town that enjoys
the reputation of being pretty lively. Wild Hollywood, eh.'" he chuckled. "Not so bad, I would say; not so bad."
Captain McCaleb is a jovial man. His big booming voice is as hearty as, well, as an Irish cop's. Even before I was permitted into his little private sanctum at the station on Cahuenga, next to the fire house, I could hear him thundering a letter in dictation, booming an order now and then. Yes, Captain McCaleb, with his thick shock of black hair and generous grin, is a most jovial man. Jovial and sympathetic.
For his particular job he needs both his good humor and his sympathy, for he is the guardian of Hollywood's morals, boss of her well-being and keeper of the peace. Day in and day out he watches the parade pass by — not the parade of glittering success and happiness, but the sorry troupe ot misfits and left-overs who eventually end their weary march with the police. Wanderers from society's highway, breakers of Hollywood's codes, they whine out their miserable stories to Captain McCaleb. day after day, month after month in scraggly rotation.
Less Than a Drunk a Day
IT'S remarkable our arrests are as low as they are," insisted the Captain. "This is the most advertised little town in our country, or any other country, I guess. Our riches and our prosperity are flung to the ears of men who prey on such a condition — gamblers, thieves, vagrants, and the like — and vet we
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Those parties which get to the stage where a good crime is had by all, says Captain John McCaleb — in the upper corner— always seem to happen outside his precinct. Just above is the Hollywood police station
have no gangs here, no riots. Stop for a moment and analyze this record," he tapped the official sheet of paper we had been looking over: "Twenty-five drunks, it says. Well, that is on an average of less than one a day. Nine gamblers. Only two reported robberies. One fellow carrying a gun. Four forgeries. Not bad, I would say, for a place of our reputation." His pencil paused at Vice . . . thirty-two. "That's rather high." he admitted. "Most of them are men — degenerates."
I asked about the girls. Did he pick up many of them, drawn to the flame of Holl>-wood, wno traveled the hardest
way .'
" Not many girls. Not one in three or four months," he replied. "Soliciting upon the streets of Hollywood is practically nil. Now and then we run across a case of some girl drawn here by the movies who has gotten in trouble. Usually we find her a suicide. The last one who was called to my attention was a little girl of about seventeen or eighteen who came out here to work in the pictures, fell in love with a married director, and killed herself. We found her in a cheap hotel room. She was a real pretty little thing," remarked Captain McCaleb.
"I take a personal interest {Continued on page Sj)
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