“Andale!” Coach shouts.
It’s Friday night, 10:15 or 10:20, no later than that. The Angels have been on patrol for more than two hours and they have finally found some action. Coach’s command sends Baler, Stretch, Cat and the rest into a sprint through the crisp night air. Armed solely with flashlights and notepads, the Angels tear across Trask Avenue, plunging headlong into a darkened alley.
An aging, brown Impala is parked in the alley. It sits motionless with its engine at rest and its headlights off. But someone is inside. Someone has, in fact, recently emerged from the Impala to drag something out of the trunk and heave it over a fence. That someone was observed by Baler, and that someone is now the object of a charge by a dozen or so crime-hating Guardian Angels.
Whoever is in the Impala does not know that these men are Angels, self-professed protectors of life, liberty and crime-strickened streets. All that person knows is that a dozen or so wild-eyed, red-bereted youths are about to surround, and no doubt invade, that brown Impala. Suddenly, the engine rears to life and the headlights are turned on to bright, illuminating the still streaking Angels. The Impala plunges forward bearing down on Baler, as if to run him over. A sudden jerk of the wheel and the car veers past Baler, into a driveway and, rubber burning, drives down Trask Avenue heading south toward the Garden Grove Freeway.
Adrenalin still pumping, the Angels leap the fence and begin combing the area where the “suspect” had laid down his mysterious load. TD glares at his notepad where he had alertly written the license number of the Impala. He, along with the other Angels, examine the ground with their flashlights, searching for that dismembered body, or that bundle of blood-stained clothing, or the suitcase filled with weapons or cocaine.
Finally, Baler shouts that he has found it. Quickly, the Angels gather around a large, lumpy trash bag. Swallowing hard, Baler peers inside. He and his fellow Angels examine the contents.
Garbage.
It looks like another slow night for the Orange County Guardian Angels.
The Guardian Angels began in 1978 as an idea in the head of a New York City McDonald’s fry cook. Five years and 70,000 Angels later, that idea came to Orange County.
It did not come in a blaze of publicity, to the warm cheers of law-enforcement officials or with relief and gratitude from the citizens of the community. No, the Guardian Angels came to Orange County like a milkman comes to a household that has never requested his service.
If indeed, the 25-member Orange County chapter is deterring crime, no one seems ready to admit it. For neither the Santa Ana nor the Huntington Beach Police Department-two cities the Angels say they patrol-have even noticed the Angels.
But the Orange County Guardian Angels are indeed out there on the streets, and in large numbers.
On the night of the garbage bust, the Angels had met at the YMCA on Sycamore Street in downtown Santa Ana. The YMCA building is old, cold and crumbling. In the center of one YMCA room are three small, blue mats used for Angels martial arts training. They had just finished more than two hours of such training and strenuous exercises combining, judo, karate, basic street fighting and anything else that will keep them alive out on the streets.
Leaving the mats, the 15 Angels gather in small groups talking, jesting, sparring, discussing past fights or new martial arts techniques. Mostly, they talk about the night patrol ahead or anything else that pertains to the Guardian Angels; for this is all they have in common.
These people’s personalities are as different as the letters in the alphabet. They are a hodgepodge of punkers, street-wise Hispanics, middle-class whites and ex-Marines banded together for one reason: to fight for a cause they believe will make a difference in the battle against violence on the streets.
“It all comes down to what’s out there on the streets,” said Jim Sanchez-aka Coach-Santa Ana patrol leader for the Orange County chapter of the Guardian Angels. “There’s just some bad stuff going on out there today and all we want to do is help.”
Coach is sitting on the floor in one corner of the YMCA room. He is a 30-year-old Garden Grove resident, the father of two children, and his attitude towards the Angels is slightly gung-ho, but sincere.
“I coach football and baseball,” he said. “I have kids who are great athletes on the field, but off the field, at school, the gangs take over. The kids either have to fight them or join them. No matter how much time I put in with these kids on the field, they still have to put up with the schools and the street life.
“But now we’re here-the Guardian Angels,” he added, “We’re a ‘good gang.’ We give these kids an alternative-a third out.”
In another corner of the room, Cat and KT are sparring. By days, KT is a 24-year-old salesman from Lakewood; by night, he is dressed in a karate GI outfit with a green belt proudly wrapped around his waist. He talks fast and acts like everybody’s best friend. He’s probably a good salesman.
Cat is a 17-year-old Lakewood youth searching for the ultimate fight. He seems almost drugged on the fascination for violence and a penchant for self-destruction, constantly looking for action. He is indeed, like a cat on constant prowl.
The remaining 12 Angels stand around talking or watching the sparring:
o Baler, a husky 17-year-old from Lakewood, who is a former punk-rock singer. The color of his hair, he said, has changed six times in the last year . (Currently it is a funky shade of red.) And in his right ears, there are five holes for multi-leveled placements of an earring.
o Tattoo, a 24-year-old army vet, who currently lives at the YMCA. There are more than 30 tattoos branded on his body; once he decided to get one tattoo, he said, he couldn’t stop.
o Mongo, a 17-year-old Cerritos youth who plays bass guitar.
o Stretch, a tall, 19-year-old chain smoker who serves as the class clown.
o TD, a 22-year-old ex-Marine who would cheerfully hand over his right hand if somebody arrived at the gym without one.
o Viking, a 29-year-old chemical company worker from Garden Grove, soft-spoken and trusting.
o Speed, a 19-year-old Hispanic youth attending Santa Ana College.
o Chief, a bilingual 21-year-old Hispanic who teaches Sunday school.
o Tony and Hector, both teen-aged timid punkers.
o Jim, a 19-year-old aspiring hairdresser.
o Venus, the only female Angel in Orange County, a 17-year-old from Long Beach who sings in a band.
o Curly, a 29-year-old Hispanic sanitation worker.
None of these Angels are built like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Bruce Lee. None project the menace of Clint Eastwood or Charles Bronson. But they don’t have to. Their strength is in numbers, good hearts and their zeal. The Angels come together like worker bees swarm the queen.
Eighteen Angels are preparing for a security patrol at a dance at the Elks Lodge sponsored by the East Garden Grove Junior All-American Football League.
The Angels meet at Coach’s house around 7:30 p.m. to pickup their colors (shirts), and receive last minute instructions and details of the evening patrol.
Their dress code is strict: GI shoes, black, comfortable-check! Black khaki pants, light weight and comfortable-check! White baseball undershirt with red sleeves-check! White t-shirt with the Guardian Angels logo on the front and “Security Patrol” etched on the back over an eagle and human eye inside a pyramid (like the back of a dollar bill) on the back-check! Belt, leather with a large buckle-check! Black shoulder holster, leather, with a pen, pencil, notepad, plastic flashlight, handcuffs, camera and dime stuffed inside, strapped over the right shoulder-check! Wristbands, red, two on right or left wrist-check! Glove, imitation leather and inexpensive-check! Jacket, optional-check! Red beret, tilted slightly on the right side of the head, festooned with medallions, raccoon tails, beads, lace and other medals of honor-check!
Fit, dressed and ready for action, the Angels arrive at the Elks Lodge by 8:10 p.m. Coach quickly calls them into a formation of two lines, with each person facing his or her partner. The Angels assume a military-style stance: legs shoulder length apart, toes facing at a slight outward angle, hands folded right over left behind the back, staring straight ahead.
“Weapons check,” Coach shouts.
Immediately, each Angel takes a turn frisking his or her partner to make sure no one is carrying a weapon; weapons are against policy. Everyone’s clean.
Coach announces the evening’s strategy.
There will be eight Angels patrolling outside the parking lot, eight Angels inside the Elks Club, Baler will command the outside, Coach will take charge inside and TD will be the go-between.
It’s 8:30 p.m. and the Angels are on.
Today, the non-profit organization spans the entire country. Angels patrol such cities as New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Miami, Toledo, and Chicago. And now Santa Ana. They claim a membership of more than 70,000 nationwide. Sliwa, and his wife, Lisa, national director, coordinate the chapters into a seemingly cohesive, organized group of volunteer citizens.
The Guardian Angels made their Orange County debut on July 25, 1982. To some it was a welcome relief, while others took a let’s-wait-and-see attitude.
“The people who first came out in Orange County were very interested in forming a chapter,” said Neal Nunan, a precocious 17-year-old Compton youth who is responsible for organizing the Orange County chapter. “The police, though, and the government officials took the wait-and-see-how-it-turns-out-in-Orange-County attitude. In Santa Ana, we’re getting along with the police really great. No problems at all. And now we’re getting ready to move to other cities in Orange County including Garden Grove and Anaheim. We have around 25 members here right now and we have new people coming in all the time.”
The Guardian Angels philosophy is based upon a group of volunteer citizens, walking around in an urban-guerilla patrol, combing the streets and shadows of the night in search of trouble. If a problem should arise, the Angels won’t hesitate to intervene and if necessary, physically restrain a person until the police arrive.
Since their arrival in Orange County, the Angels have had to combat here, as elsewhere, the vigilante label. They vehemently deny their philosophy is tainted with the least bit of vigilantism.
Angel training consists of lessons in physical and mental toughness, first aid, legal instructions and lessons in street protocol.
“It’s not like we walk around looking for a gang fight or something,” said Jim Rigali, a 19-year-old Angel. “We’re versatile as far as things we can do. And we’re not a vigilante type of group, we want to help, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” Nunan agreed. “We’d like to go out there and not see trouble for months. If nothing is going on around us, then we figure we are a deterrent. And that’s what we’re all about.”
If trouble does find the Angels, or the Angels find trouble, look out.
“If we do get involved,” Nunan said, “we first try to get the person who committed the crime to the ground until the police come, without hurting him. We don’t know if he’s sick or what, so we don’t want to use our martial arts to where a guy comes up to you and you karate chop him to the neck and hurt him. We don’t want to do that. We just want to put him on the ground and hold him there until the police come. And if that means using all of us, fine.”
The Angels recruitment program consists mostly of word of mouth. They say they are selective in who they choose as members, that all prospective members are trained for at least three months in martial arts, first aid, the law, national rules and regulations, temper control and street protocol.
“We just can’t accept anyone,” Nunan said. “If some guy comes in and says ‘Well, I got jumped and now I want to get these guys on the street,’ we don’t want him, it’s as simple as that. We don’t want anyone out there who wants to be hurting somebody. So we keep interviewing them to see if they’re ready to help. The bad ass-types are gone quick.”
“We don’t want everybody to join the Angels,” Riagli said. “It’s not some fascist thing. We’re here and we’re saying hey, you don’t have to join us, we just want to show you that we’re going to get involved and help people.
“People just don’t think young kids can help out, because there is a lot of anti-establishment stuff going on right now. But all in all, we’ve had a very good response from the people and from law enforcement.”
“And we’ve had no arrests and no problems in Orange County,” Nunan added. “That’s what we want, to be a deterrent. We’ll start moving into Anaheim and Garden Grove in a couple of weeks. We have cops right now who will come up to us and say, ‘We can’t wait until you guys come to our city.’
The Huntington Beach Police Department says they didn’t even know the Guardian Angels were patrolling their city.
“I have not heard from anyone from our department who is in contact with them,” Huntington Beach Police Capt. Bert Ekstrom said.
Logically enough, then, the Huntington beach Police do not believe the Angels are deterring crime. Neither does the Santa Ana Police Department-but at least they’ve heard of the Angels.
“Sure we’ve heard they’re out there,” said Santa Ana Police Capt. Paul Walters. “But I don’t think they’re really needed here.
We’re supportive of any community group that’s willing to help,” he said. “But we don’t want them to become vigilantes. If they’re out there, we would want them to take a passive role and call us if there are any problems.
“But I don’t think their presence has made any difference one way or the other,” he added. “They picked our downtown area to patrol and we already have a crime prevention program down there-our ‘Business Community-Oriented Policing’ program. Nothing against the Guardian Angels, but we’re proud of what we have downtown.”
Walters said he has heard of no incidences or problems associated with the Guardian Angels. In fact, he said, he hasn’t heard from them at all for quite awhile.
“I think they’re just spinning their wheels in this area where something is already being done in an aggressive manner,” Walters commented. “They used to call us regularly when they first started, but I haven’t heard from them for awhile.”
The eight Angels inside the Elks Lodge, line up in single-file formation. Coach leads the unit, Curly is stationed at the rear. They march into the building, almost as if in cadence with the theme song from the move Bridge Over The River Kwai.
Inside the Elks Lodge, 12, maybe 15 people sit sipping their drinks. It is a small room centered around a dance floor. There are cafeteria-style table and chairs arranged in a cafeteria-style setting. Red, green, yellow and blue lights attempt at a disco atmosphere. Up front, a DJ used the juke box to lull the night away with Freddie Fender tunes.
As the Angels march inside, the patrons turn and stare in amusement. That amusement soon turns to awe as Coach directs each Angel to his or her post: Curly by the jukebox, Mondo next to the wall, Tattoo across from Mongo, Venus and Jim standing guard over the ticket box, KT next to the bar, Viking in that dark corner. They all stand in a military-style stance, legs shoulder length apart with their hands folded behind their back. The Angels nearly outnumber the dancegoers.
The night passes slowly. Self-conscious couples move on the dance floor, uneasy about the militaristic posture of the Angels. One older, heavy-set gentleman begins verbally badgering Coach about the Angels’ vigilante attitude, and what strikes him as their seemingly military, urban-guerilla actions. The anxiety level mounts and the evening progresses uneasily as patrons seem to be worried that a major gang fight is expected to erupt tonight.
Coach finally becomes sensitive to the strained atmosphere and directs his Angels to keep loose but alert. They may now sit down and relax and try to make the dancegoers a little more comfortable. But it’s too late.
Outside, the Angels comb the parking lot like shadows in the night. Around 11 p.m., another Angel shows up late. His name is Flash. Baler walks over to him and starts explaining the evening’s patrol strategy.
“Gee,” Baler says suddenly, “I don’t even know your real name.”
“Just call me Flash,” the newcomer says, “You don’t need to know my real name.”
Neal has decided to take a temporary leave of absence from the Guardian Angels. No one’s really sure why, not even him. It’s just part of being a Guardian Angel: faces come and faces go, but what is important is that the Angels remain.
Everyone has their own reasons for bring an Angel. Maybe they want to help, maybe they like the prestige or the fantasy, maybe they wish to escape personal problems-who knows? Who knows why anyone joins the French Foreign Legion?
All say they’re proud to be a Guardian Angel, though-even those who are leaving.
“There’s always going to be someone turning 16, or someone who’s going to realize it’s time we start helping out,” said Nunan before his leave of absence. “I’ll still go to parties, I’ll still go on dates, but let me tell you, I’d be the first one over there if I saw some old man getting beat up. I don’t care if I’m wearing Guardian Angel gear or not, I’m still a private citizen and I can still make a citizen’s arrest. No matter if I’m by myself or not.
“If I happened to die tomorrow, I’d feel I’ve done my good deed. I’d feel I’ve accomplished something. You learn very quickly here that you’re a Guardian Angel 24 hours a day.
“What I would like to see is that I would be able to take of my Guardian Angle shirt and walk down the street and if I got jumped, I could know I could yell and people would come to help me. But right now, I know I couldn’t get any help. I’d be lucky to get any help
“It all comes down to it being a part of life.”
