County of Stanislaus allowed license to expire (PDF Document)
[Source: FCC Wireless Communications Bureau]

In the Matter of Application of the County of Stanislaus for Private Fixed Microwave Service Station and Request for Waiver of Section 101.81 of the Commission’s Rules
The County of Stanislaus (Stanislaus County or the County) operates fixed microwave service (FMS) Station WNEJ708, Mt. Oso, California, in the 2 GHz band, and inadvertently allowed the license for this station to expire.
pdf - text

posted by Tracy Justus at 12/15/2001  

Police Call - 2002 Southern California Detail Edition



Gene Hughes' latest Police Call Southern California Detail Edition is now available. This edition includes revised frequency lists as well as new trunked radio systems with their fleet codes. The excellent radio monitoring tutorial has been expanded to include trunked and digital radio. The Federal Government frequency listings alone are worth the small cost of this publication. Included in this edition is a listing of amateur radio repeaters.

You can purchase the book online at the SCMA (Southern California Monitoring Association) web site at http://www.socalscanner.com

posted by Tracy Justus at 12/12/2001  

Simi Valley Police dispatchers vital to saving lives
[Source: Ventura County Star]

By Roberta Freeman, Staff writer
Photo by Ed Compean


Simi Valley Police Department dispatcher Jean Marie
Maroshek listens carefully as she takes a call at the
dispatch center recently. Finding the right people to fit
the demanding job can be tough: The department is
currently looking to fill two full-time positions.

Emergency dispatchers are the unsung heroes of the Simi Valley Police Department.
Calm in the midst of crisis, emergency dispatchers are adept at doing many things at once. One missed phone call from a person in distress or dispensing wrong information to officers en route to an emergency can have tragic consequences.

The level of responsibility, along with the emotional drain from listening to an endless stream of human suffering, leaves police officials constantly looking for the right people to fill dispatcher positions.

"We are always recruiting," said Simi Valley police Communications Manager Lynn Freeman.

The department has 13 full-time positions and five part-time positions filled. Freeman is interviewing to fill another two full-time positions. Applicants must be at least 18 with a high school diploma and be able to pass initial background checks and a battery of rather grueling tests. Monthly wages begin at $2,452.04 and a senior supervisor can earn $3,959.07.

Once hired, fledgling dispatchers spend two weeks training in a classroom academy, and for six months thereafter, a supervisor is always at their side.

Patrol officers in the field say their relationship with dispatchers is quite literally a matter of life and death.

"We need dispatchers to paint a picture for us before we get there," said Sgt. Sterling Johnson, a patrol officer for the department.

In a matter of seconds, dispatchers need to seek out very specific details, such as whether there are weapons on the scene, so officers can plan what to do.

"Calmness makes all the difference in the world. A good dispatcher is calm, collected, deliberate, very clear and concise," Johnson said. "A bad one can get you killed."

Freeman has been with the department since 1978. She remembers her first day on the job as one so awful she vowed never to return. Then patrol officer Mike Brewer talked her into giving it another try the next day.

Some 23 years later, Freeman said, she can't imagine doing any other job.

"I absolutely love this job," Freeman said, although as a supervisor she misses working the dispatch center. Since becoming center manager, Freeman is besieged with paperwork instead of phone calls.

The job of dispatcher is a job that people seem to either love or hate. The four-day,12-hour shifts are challenging for people with families. The complex computer system that performs every function from phones to serving as an information bank can be difficult for the technically challenged.

"It takes a year before you know what you are really doing," says Kathy Mooney, a dispatcher with the department for 20 years.

"We joke that we raise our kids by phone," Mooney said. Long shifts, she added, require helpful family members.

Jean Marie Maroshek has been with the department for 17 years -- a length of time she marvels at.

"You don't plan to stay that long, but it just happens," Maroshek said.

Freeman described the well-oiled senior members of the department as a team, each keeping an ear out for the other to see how they can help with calls.

While one gets information from a distressed caller, another might send officers or paramedics to the scene, while another looks up a license plate or parole information.

"It's comforting to work with a partner you trust blindly," Maroshek said.

To watch the veteran dispatcher on a Friday night is to watch poetry in motion. In one half-hour, she takes a call from a woman hysterical over an incident with a neighbor over a parking spot. Another woman phones in that a man, bloody and barefoot, knocked on her door and wandered off. An 11-year-old girl and her 8-year-old friend are home alone and think they hear a prowler. Another youngster says his bike has been stolen from a shopping center.

Maroshek said she stays with the job for the reason that ultimately wins out over all obstacles.

"I know it sounds corny," she said, "but I like helping people."
2001 © The E.W. Scripps Co.
posted by Tracy Justus at 12/10/2001  

A heroic dad
[Source: Published Saturday, Dec. 8, 2001, in the San Jose Mercury News]

For more than three decades, Ralph Nichols was a proud member of the Los Angeles fire department.

By Ralph Nichols



My dad, also named Ralph Nichols, learned to rope steers on his uncle's Montana ranch during the summer of '38. He became hard as leather and learned a wealth of cowboy songs that he would yodel and hum for the rest of his life.

I grew up listening to those songs, hearing stories of that summer -- and idolizing my dad. He was part cowboy, part fireman and my hero. He was also a card-carrying member of the ``greatest generation'' who spent five years serving his country.

After receiving an honorable discharge in 1946, my dad joined the Los Angeles City Fire Department, his dream job. He spent the next 32 years doing one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet and loving every minute of it. I heard harrowing stories about families who lost everything to fire, and of children who drowned in their backyard swimming pool because a parent left the child unattended to answer the phone.

I also heard stories about wild parties at the fire station. The LAFD was a country club for World War II veterans in the '40s and '50s who risked their life fighting fires when they weren't having fun at the station.

I had what seems now an idyllic life growing up in Southern California during the 1960s. No gangs, no graffiti, no fear of strangers and no bad neighbors except one.

Saturdays were spent at the Reseda Theater, where 50 cents entitled you to a double feature with cartoons and coming attractions. On the rare occasions when my dad joined my sister and me, we would buy three candy bars for a quarter at Save-On and eat them during the movie.

My favorite game as a kid was when my dad would lasso us kids while we rode around him in circles on our Schwinn bicycles. He would stand in the middle and toss his lariat around one of us, a skill he picked up in Montana, and we would laugh so hard our sides ached.

Our first stop on Saturday morning was Joe's Barber Shop. I would watch Joe cut my dad's hair while waiting my turn in one of the cushy red leather chairs. Joe was the only barber to cut my dad's hair for 50 years.

My favorite weekends were spent at the Corganville western ranch, 35 sprawling acres in the foothills of Chatsworth that served as a backdrop for hundreds of western TV shows and movies. I watched stunt shows at Corganville, walked the dirt streets and wished I had been a real cowboy like my dad.

My dad took my sister and me somewhere every weekend, or so it seemed. He drove us all over Los Angeles, from Griffith Park to the Long Beach Plunge, in his rust-brown 1960 Ford Fairlane. He didn't believe in camping or sitting around at parks feeding the birds. He thought kids should be active and that's what I remember, being active.

I spent half my childhood on the phone, the ``grapevine'' as the firemen called it, with my dad. He spent most of his time at the station so we talked on the phone a lot. Visiting the station was a dream come true for a young boy. I looked up to firemen, still do, and was always treated like someone special.

My best memories growing up are of sitting with my dad in the backyard patio in the evenings, talking to him for hours while he smoked cigars. He smoked outside so his cigars would not stink up the house. He preferred two-for-a-nickel Abbey Panatela cigars, the cheapest in Los Angeles.

Nearly 40 years later, I mentally return to that backyard patio whenever I smell a cheap cigar. I think of my childhood and my dad's 1960 Ford Fairlane that I wish I had today. I think of Joe the barber and the way Reseda used to be. I think of all those things that are gone today and I miss them.

posted by Tracy Justus at 12/9/2001