face. He called for backup, and a police unit got dispatched. In a few minutes that ferocious female cop pulled up in her black-and-white, heard his story, and said, "What's the problem? So write the bitch up and if she refuses the ticket, she goes to the slam."
However, as he later reported, "The lady of the house called her husband who called the mayor who called the fire chief who called the fire marshal, saying, 'Get out there and find out what Orr's up to this time.' "
Later that day, John was called into the office of the fire marshal, who said, "John, the guy's on the planning commission. You gotta be more careful with these people."
"These people? These people?" John sputtered.
And then he launched into a tirade about these people who were no better than ordinary citizens like himself. And he demanded to know if this was how it would be if they formed the arson unit. Was this how he'd have to treat criminals if they had money and influence and lived in a big goddamned house?
"Cool down, John," the fire marshal advised.
So he cooled down and requested a couple of days off, dropped his citation book on the desk, and left the office with red and watery eyes.
He went camping with the only person he was truly comfortable with, himself, and tried to analyze his recent controversies. Sure, at times he'd been a bit undiplomatic and pissed off some people, but in the end, he believed he was fundamentally right. So he cleared the campsite and headed home to visit the girlfriend from Sears and get some feedback.
The next day he drove to work and dropped a note on the fire marshal's desk that read: "Please remove my name from consideration for the arson investigator position. I am no longer interested."
He decided to go back to being an ordinary firefighter. More than ever he thought of himself as an "eccentric," and he wouldn't have it any other way. So if they didn't understand and appreciate what he could do, fuck 'em all.
During his self-imposed exile there seemed to be increased arson activity in Glendale, including foothill brush fires and a series of car fires. Then, toward the end of the year, the fire chief prepared to select an arson investigator from the seven applicants, and that included John Orr's camping friend, Don Yeager, whom John considered argumentative, aggressive, condescending, and inflexible. In short, coplike.
The fire chief called John in and asked him to reconsider applying. He was told that the new position would mean that the man selected would be a real investigator with peace-officer authority, able to carry a firearm full-time.
It took John about a nanosecond to reconsider. Within a week he took a psychological exam that once again included the MMPI self-inventory, but this time he passed it. And he was selected to be the Glendale Fire Department's first arson investigator. Don Yeager told him he hadn't really wanted the job anyway, not liking the eight-to-five hours.
John was teamed up with Glendale police detective Dennis Wilson, and they were the arson team. No more fire prevention, no more fighting fires, this was The Big Show.
Lots of good things happened in the early 1980s. John's fire department, one of the lowest paid in the L. A. basin, became one of the highest paid after the members hooked up with organized labor. And now that he was an arson sleuth he started picking up cop habits, like parking on the wrong side of the street when there was plenty of room to do it legally.
He said, "To a cop it's a form of marking territory. To show that this is my turf."
But he wasn't a cop, and he wrote of his feelings:
There was never total approval. An arson investigator wasn't totally a firefighter or totally a cop. We were bastard children, especially to real cops. But I had news for them. I wasn't a wanna-be. I was a cop whether they wanted to believe it or accept it. Fulltime arson investigators in lie state of California are defined, in penal code section 830.37, as
However, as he later reported, "The lady of the house called her husband who called the mayor who called the fire chief who called the fire marshal, saying, 'Get out there and find out what Orr's up to this time.' "
Later that day, John was called into the office of the fire marshal, who said, "John, the guy's on the planning commission. You gotta be more careful with these people."
"These people? These people?" John sputtered.
And then he launched into a tirade about these people who were no better than ordinary citizens like himself. And he demanded to know if this was how it would be if they formed the arson unit. Was this how he'd have to treat criminals if they had money and influence and lived in a big goddamned house?
"Cool down, John," the fire marshal advised.
So he cooled down and requested a couple of days off, dropped his citation book on the desk, and left the office with red and watery eyes.
He went camping with the only person he was truly comfortable with, himself, and tried to analyze his recent controversies. Sure, at times he'd been a bit undiplomatic and pissed off some people, but in the end, he believed he was fundamentally right. So he cleared the campsite and headed home to visit the girlfriend from Sears and get some feedback.
The next day he drove to work and dropped a note on the fire marshal's desk that read: "Please remove my name from consideration for the arson investigator position. I am no longer interested."
He decided to go back to being an ordinary firefighter. More than ever he thought of himself as an "eccentric," and he wouldn't have it any other way. So if they didn't understand and appreciate what he could do, fuck 'em all.
During his self-imposed exile there seemed to be increased arson activity in Glendale, including foothill brush fires and a series of car fires. Then, toward the end of the year, the fire chief prepared to select an arson investigator from the seven applicants, and that included John Orr's camping friend, Don Yeager, whom John considered argumentative, aggressive, condescending, and inflexible. In short, coplike.
The fire chief called John in and asked him to reconsider applying. He was told that the new position would mean that the man selected would be a real investigator with peace-officer authority, able to carry a firearm full-time.
It took John about a nanosecond to reconsider. Within a week he took a psychological exam that once again included the MMPI self-inventory, but this time he passed it. And he was selected to be the Glendale Fire Department's first arson investigator. Don Yeager told him he hadn't really wanted the job anyway, not liking the eight-to-five hours.
John was teamed up with Glendale police detective Dennis Wilson, and they were the arson team. No more fire prevention, no more fighting fires, this was The Big Show.
Lots of good things happened in the early 1980s. John's fire department, one of the lowest paid in the L. A. basin, became one of the highest paid after the members hooked up with organized labor. And now that he was an arson sleuth he started picking up cop habits, like parking on the wrong side of the street when there was plenty of room to do it legally.
He said, "To a cop it's a form of marking territory. To show that this is my turf."
But he wasn't a cop, and he wrote of his feelings:
There was never total approval. An arson investigator wasn't totally a firefighter or totally a cop. We were bastard children, especially to real cops. But I had news for them. I wasn't a wanna-be. I was a cop whether they wanted to believe it or accept it. Fulltime arson investigators in lie state of California are defined, in penal code section 830.37, as
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