Do you remember when Zsa Zsa slapped a policeman in Beverly Hills? It made all the papers. Made the nightly news. People might have assumed she was just a hot head. I have news for those people. He deserved it. Big time. If he’s the guy I’m thinking of, and I’m pretty sure he is.
The cop sported a mustache that was so retro in style, yet not hip in the least. For that ugly mustache alone he deserved that slap. He was a cowboy on his motorcycle moving in and out of the traffic without awareness of other drivers. He also spun around on his horse, I mean, motorcycle, on some mornings to give my handicapped father shit about being dropped off in front of his favorite deli. My father knew this routine well. He would ask whoever was driving him to drop him off directly in front of places to make it the easiest on himself for a quick entry. Or, as he called it: “a straight-in job.” And sure, he was double-parked, but there was another lane and rarely any traffic at that time of day. My dad would be threatened with a ticket but he would just keep moving and yelling at the cop. And the next day, it would start all over again.
One day, at Christmastime, while I was driving through Beverly Hills in my pink Datsun (yep, I had a pink Datsun, the only one), I remembered an errand I needed to run. I was hugely pregnant and due to have my second child in just weeks. I had ordered this little, very fancy (expensive) push car for kids at Gearys on North Beverly Drive. I guess it was a year I was celebrating Christmas and buying real gifts (refer to last blog). I pull over in the red, right in front of Geary’s, and tell my friend Libbie to wait in the car so that I don’t get a ticket. I looked for a second in my side mirror and then opened the car door just a touch, a few inches, I was going to keep looking. I am extra safe, partly because I’m pregnant and moving at a slower pace, and partly because I’m just an overly cautious person. At the moment I opened the door those few inches, though I had looked just before, my door smashes into something and I look up and it’s a Beverly Hills cop on his motorcycle. Well, he’s not on his motorcycle anymore!!! He’s on the ground but the first hit caused a chain reaction and now he’s hit the car ahead of him. So, now I’m responsible for hitting a cop and I am about to be blamed for the other fender bender. The cop brushes himself off and walks to my door, livid. And it’s HIM!!!! The infamous cop!!! He’s pissed too. But I stood firm, insisting that it wasn’t my fault, and I knew he knew what a reckless driver he was, moving in and out at a very fast pace. But now Libbie and I were being held hostage — and secretly laughing — by this angry macho dude, and within an hour, the whole police force was on Beverly Drive surrounding us. I am not sure how long this ordeal lasted, and I have no recollection of any further consequences, so I’m pretty sure it was all dropped. However, news travels fast and I got a call from my father saying everyone from Nate n’ Al’s called to tell him that the whole police force responded to back up one of their own regarding this “incident” involving me and my pink datsun.
One of my favorite dishes that Libbie’s mother Joy Aroff made at her parties was an egg salad served with both potato chips and Carr’s water crackers. I always then made it for us and then for years I made this egg salad for my kids.
Joy Aroff’s Egg Salad (my version)
refrigerated hard boiled eggs (trick I learned from Gourmet Grandma is to have the water boil for 5 minutes, turn off flame and then sit for 5 minutes)
Chopped Celery
Chopped onion
mayonnaise
either French’s mustard or a good dijon Mustard
I chop the eggs and smother this in the mayonnaise and I switch between those two mustards and I guess some people like relish but I don’t add that. I mix it all up really well and it’s more of a dip than a proper egg salad that you would make for a sandwich.
Libbie sitting with my egg salad in front of her, early 80's
Tags: Beverly Hills, Beverly Hills cop, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Geary's North, Maurice Duke, Nate n' Als deli, pink Datsun
He was a an absolute jerk…Happy New Year Fredde..keep the posts coming….
Great story. “Cop down!” Every villain feels that good is on his side, Ricardo Montalban told me playing the bad guy. This man in blue thought he was protecting BH from the menace of those with canes or bearing child.
There is a reason that we see so many “dirty cop” plotlines on TV.
Wish I could get rid of that “pink Datsun” image that keeps morphing into a pink dauschund for some reason…Happy New Year Fredde!
Keep on writing in 2012!
Great story … scary story, some hyped up muscle bound mean men with sticks, guns, and handcuffs …
BH had its own rules then, individual for cops.
Hmmm wonder if he is still with BHPD or if he got transferred…..to Rampart district Lapd…
…but do you have a photo of the pink datsun?
That is one funny story. As a motor officer he should have known better than to ride so close to the parking lane. It’s basic motorcycle defensive driving. I’m sure he was more careful after his run-in (or rundown) with you.
Fredde I remember that pink Datsun that your father bought you so well! I truly love your writing, Happy New Year! XO,JW
Ricky Taubman and I once out ran him in Ricky’s 9-11 Porsche… We took a short cut and ditched him. He was the mad motorcycle dude… I always remember his big boots and had a vision of them coming off revealing a size 7.
Jenn