CHAPTER SIX
I dozed through most of the lackluster January 10 felony summary, coming awake when Captain Jack barked, “That’s it. Lieutenant Millard, Sergeant Sears, Sergeant Blanchard and Officer Bleichert, go to Mr. Loew’s office immediately. Dismissed!”
I walked down the corridor to Ellis Loew’s inner sanctum. Lee, Russ Millard and Harry Sears were already there, milling around Loew’s desk, examining a stack of morning _Heralds_.
Lee winked and handed me a copy, folded over to the local section. I saw a piece titled, “Criminal Division DA to Try for Boss’s Job in ’48 Republican Primary?” read three paragraphs lauding Ellis Loew and his concern for the citizens of Los Angeles and tossed the paper on the desk before I threw up. Lee said, “Here comes the man now. Hey Ellis, you going into politics? Say ‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.’ Let’s see how you sound.”
Lee’s FDR imitation got a laugh all around; even Loew chuckled as he handed out rap sheet carbons with mug shot strips attached. “Here’s the gentleman we all have to fear. Read those and find out why.”
I read the sheet. It detailed the criminal career of Raymond Douglas “Junior” Nash, white male, born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1908. Nash’s convictions went back to 1926, and included Texas State Prison jolts for statutory rape, armed robbery, first degree mayhem and felonious assault. There were five California charges filed against him: three armed robbery warrants from up north in Oakland County and two 1944 LA papers– first degree statch rape and felony contributing to the delinquency of a minor. The rap sheet ended with notations from the San Francisco PD Intelligence Squad, stating that Nash was suspected of a dozen Bay Area stickups and was rumored to be one of the outside men behind the May ’46 Alcatraz crash-out attempt. Finishing, I checked out the mug shots. Junior Nash looked like a typical inbred Okie shitkicker: long bony head, thin lips, beady eyes and ears that could have belonged to Dumbo.
I glanced at the other men. Loew was reading about himself in the Herald; Millard and Sears were still on the sheets, pokerfaced. Lee said, “Give us the good news, Ellis. He’s in LA and acting uppity, right?”
Loew fiddled with his Phi Beta Kappa key. “Eyewitnesses have made him for two market stickups in Leimert Park over the weekend, which is why he wasn’t in the felony summary. He pistol-whipped an old lady during the second robbery, and she died an hour ago at Good Samaritan.”
Harry Sears stammered, “Kn-kn-known as-s-sociates?”
Loew shook his head. “Captain Tierney talked to the SFPD this morning. They said Nash is a lone wolf type. Apparently he was recruited for his part in the Alcatraz thing, but that’s an exception. What I–”
Russ Millard raised his hand. “Is there a common denominator in Nash’s sex beefs?”
“I was getting to that,” Loew said. “Nash apparently likes Negro girls. Young ones, still in their teens. All of his sex offense complainants have been colored.”
Lee motioned me toward the door. “We’ll hit University Station, read the dick’s report and take it from there. My bet is that Nash is holing up somewhere in Leimert Park. It’s white, but there’s shines from Manchester on south. Lots of places to prowl for poontang.”
Millard and Sears got up to leave. Loew walked up to Lee and said, “Try to avoid killing him, Sergeant. He richly deserves it, but try anyway.”
Lee flashed his patented demon grin. “I’ll try, sir. But you be sure to kill him in court. The voters want boys like Junior fried, makes them feel safe at night.”
o o o
Our first stop was University Station. The squadroom boss showed us the Robbery reports and told us not to waste our time canvassing the area near the two markets, that Millard and Sears were doing it, concentrating on getting a better description of Nash’s car, believed to be a postwar white sedan. Captain Jack had called University with word on Nash’s poontang penchant, and three plainclothes Vice officers had been dispatched to check out southside whorehouses specializing in young colored girls. Newton Street and 77th Street divisions, almost entirely colored, would be sending nightwatch radio cars by juke joints and playgrounds where Negro youths congregated, eyeballing for Nash and telling the kids to watch out.