Handcuffed at Nancy's House, Alas, Not By Her

'Freeze! Put your hands up!' Oh, sorry 

At home, watching TV -- then an erroneous 911 call leads to a brief, tense encounter with the LAPD.

Los Angeles Times Op/Ed September 09, 2009 by Michael Krikorian

I was at my girlfriend Nancy's home in Hancock Park. She was out with a friend, and her 15-year-old son, Oliver, and I had just finished eating our superb 10:30 p.m. dinner -- al pastor tacos from the truck on 3rd Street and Normandie. He had gone upstairs to go to bed. The next day would be the first day of school after summer vacation.

I was watching a recorded episode of "Entourage" when Zeke, our golden retriever mix, got up and looked out the thick wood-and-glass front door. Now, this dog barks like an Akita on angel dust, wailing plaintively when anybody comes up the sidewalk, unless its family. So I thought it must be Nancy.

I looked out the front door and noticed a spotlight on our yard. I heard a helicopter. I opened the door, went out to investigate and closed the door so Zeke wouldn't get out.

"Freeze!"

"Put your hands up!" yelled another voice. "Put your hands up over your head. Now!"

I turned in the direction of the voices and said, "Are you talking to me?" I actually said that. And I meant it. Were they talking to me? Yes.

"Put your hands over your head!"

I did.

"Lock your fingers on top of your head."

I did. I couldn't really see them because the bright flashlights nearly blinded me, but it had to be the cops.

"Turn and face the door." I did, and then I had a frightful thought. Maybe it's not the police. Maybe it's some elaborate plan by a street gang to kill me. I have reported on street gangs for more than a decade and amassed a deadly share of enemies. I took a quick look at the invaders and could see they had police uniforms. No gang I ever reported on would go to that much trouble to kill me.

"Turn around and start backing toward me."

I marveled at how calm I was. I thought, "Just do as they say." Just do as they say. We all have heard stories in which the guy resists and gets roughed up or worse.

I backed down the three steps of the porch to the driveway, where I bumped into Nancy's car, parked with the top down. I got a closer look at the gendarmes: five uniformed LAPD officers with guns at the ready, including a policewoman who sadly bore no resemblance to Angie Dickinson in her TV cop days. Pepper Anderson could cuff me all night. The most impressive thing about this policewoman was the pump shotgun she was holding.

I hoped Roger, our next-door neighbor, had a video camera and was watching. This could go Rodney.

I was led next to the giant ficus tree in Roger's frontyard and was tightly handcuffed. Well, the cuffs weren't overly tight. I've been in overly tight cuffs in the past.

And that is why I wasn't all that upset, why I was so calm. Every other time in my life that I had been handcuffed -- and there have been several -- I was guilty of something. Here, I knew I had done nothing wrong. Not unless I was unaware that buying tacos at the truck on 3rd and Normandie was some sort of felony now.

"Spread your legs!" I did. "Wider." I did. "Do you have a weapon?" No. I was frisked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here. What's going on?" I asked. No answer.

It was like I had a good view of that bad show, "Cops."

There were three cops, guns still drawn, on the front porch, yelling and scrambling about as if John Dillinger were in the house. I told them Oliver was the only person at home and asked if they could call the house and let me speak to him so he wouldn't freak out. They called; he finally answered, and they talked to him.

After a few minutes, he came out. I yelled at the police -- for the first time -- to put their guns down. Oliver looked stunned.

He later told me his first thought was: "What did Michael do?" He had heard all the commotion but thought it was some TV show I was watching.

Finally, after what seemed liked an hour -- but was really about 10 to 12 minutes -- the cops were informed via radio that they had received the wrong street address. A woman down the block had heard a bang at her back door, thought someone was breaking in and called 911 to report it. In her panic, she reversed the last two numbers of the address. She gave them my address. So the cops were waiting to storm the house when I walked out to see what was going on. (The next day, the woman apologized profusely to me.)

A second policewoman, Officer Solley -- not the shotgun wielder -- was fairly pleasant. She apologized and kept saying, "You understand what happened and why it happened, right?"

Yeah, sure. You all messed up.

But I also thought about all the black friends of mine who have been stopped and harassed over the years for doing nothing wrong at all. This is what it was like. Being in the wrong place. In this case, at home. I was angry, but not outraged. I wondered how many people got handcuffed for nothing at Nickerson Gardens over the years? How many at Jordan Downs? Then Oliver said, "At least I'll have a good story to tell for 'what I did on my summer vacation.' "

As for Zeke, who barks furiously at the mailman, the gardener, the walkers, the joggers, even other dogs like they are all aliens from "District 9" -- but was quiet as Marcel Marceau in my hour of need -- well, let's just say that porterhouse bone I got for him is going to stay in the freezer for a while. I might even heat it up and gnaw on it while he watches.

Like just about everything in life, it could have been a whole lot worse. Oliver told his mother the story when she came home 20 minutes later, adding his what-could-have-happened, worst-case scenario.

"You know how you yell at Zeke when he barks a lot? How about if you were cutting a bagel in half and walked outside to see what was going on, and you had the knife in your hand and were yelling to Zeke 'Shut up!' " Only he suggested I might have added a four-letter word as I shouted.

I guess if that had happened, you would have heard all about this on the news already. Maybe the president will have me and that shotgun lady cop over for a beer at the White House.

###

Michael Krikorian covered street gangs and the LAPD for The Times. He recently completed his first crime novel, "The Southside of L.A.," and a children's book, "The Sunflower Who Loved the Moon."

http://articles.latimes.com/print/2009/sep/09/opinion/oe-krikorian9

"Southside" Gets Outstanding Review From Mystery Scene Mag

"Michael Krikorian introduces Michael Lyons, a Sinatra-loving, hard-drinkingLos Angeles Times reporter, in his debut novel, Southside. Lyons is fearless when it comes to interacting with gangbangers. That is until he's on his way to meet with King Funeral, leader of the Hoover Criminals, one of LA's deadliest gangs. Only two blocks from City Hall a middle-aged black man steps from a car, a purple Grape Street Crips rag on his head, shotgun in hand. He shoots Lyons in broad daylight, wounding him. Within minutes the newsroom is taking bets on who shot him. He's made enemies over the years, mostly members of the street gangs he writes about, but also the husbands of women he's taken a fancy to. When the LAPD doesn't appear to be putting a lot of effort into finding Lyons' assailant, the Los Angeles Times publishes a scathing editorial. Then an audio tape surfaces of Lyons arranging his own shooting with King Funeral. His cred is gone. Embarrassed, the LA Times fires him. In order to vindicate himself-he and Funeral were only joking around, he protests-Lyons scours Southside Los Angeles to discover who shot him and why. When three seemingly unrelated killings take place, Lyons begins putting the pieces together and finds the common denominator-a shot caller named Big Evil, a prisoner at California's maximum security prison Pelican Bay.

This is a nitty-gritty, down-and-dirty story of what really goes down on the gang-ridden streets of Southside Los Angeles. Krikorian's voice is authentic. Born in LA, he's not only written gang pieces for the Los Angeles TimesandNew York Times, but has lived in gang neighborhoods. He readily admits the well-plottedSouthside is heavily autobiographical with him in the Michael Lyons role, and that many of the other characters are people he knows; he writes letters and sends books to many old acquaintances who are incarcerated. Through his gang characters-Big Evil, Terminal, Poison Rat, and Lil Mayhem among others-Krikorian brings the mean streets to life; and through their parents, he shows the grief of being incapable of saving children from the war on the streets. Southside is powerful, aside from an overabundance of minor characters, and is the first in a series of four, centering on Los Angeles. The next novel, already in the works, is Westside, to be followed by Northside andEastside."

https://mysteryscenemag.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=3399%3Asouthside&catid=26%3Abooks&Itemid=185

Quaint Names For 'Hoods, But It's Still South Central To Me

Chesterfield Square, Vermont Knolls, Green Meadows, Harvard Park, Vermont Vista, Athens, Manchester Square, Gramercy Park, Watts.These are the  Los Angeles neighborhoods with the highest crime rates. Except Watts, which has a world-wide rep, they sound like idyllic places in Olde England. But to me - and to most of the residents who live there  -  they are still  - and always will be - South Central.

Seeking to distance the city from the riotous reputation  "South Central" earned in 1992 and from rap songs,  the city voted in April, 2003 to officially ban the name.  The following is from a Los Angeles Times article that appeared January 5, 2004 

"Green Meadows or Asphalt Jungle"

The sign overlooking Central Avenue and 99th Street in Watts declares the neighborhood "Century Cove," although the nearest cove is 15 miles away in San Pedro.

Over on Manchester Avenue and Main Street in South Los Angeles, a sign welcomes visitors to "Green Meadows," although the only green in sight is the paint on a transmission repair shop.

And at 78th Street and Normandie Avenue, three blocks from where the 1992 riots started, the area is proclaimed "Canterbury Knolls," a puzzle to some.

The idea behind Los Angeles' neighborhood names has been to try to give small areas a dose of charm and community identity, no matter how incongruous the monikers. But the naming has gotten a little out of control, some say, because getting city permission is too easy.

Councilwoman Janice Hahn, who represents  Watts, said the names help residents feel as if they're living in a town, not an expanse of asphalt in a sprawling city.

"I think most neighborhoods want to have this small-town feel about them, and I think the naming of the community makes them feel better," she said. "It gives them a sense of identity, and that's a good thing."

But some of the names are scarcely known even to residents.

"What Knolls?" asked Vince Avery, a freelance photographer who lives within sight of the sign. "When you go to a real neighborhood, like Hollywood, you know you're in Hollywood. But nobody knows Canterbury Hills -- I mean, Canterbury Knolls. Nobody in Canterbury Knolls knows they're in Canterbury Knolls."

If the names are meaningless, some say, it's because too little oversight is involved in bestowing them. The process for getting a neighborhood name is simple: A group of residents, sometimes members of a neighborhood council, ask their council member to christen an area with a new title. The council member has only to ask the city Department of Transportation to put up a sign.

That, says Greg Nelson, general manager of Los Angeles' Neighborhood Development Department, is too unstructured.

"This issue is alive and ticking," Nelson said. "We need a real policy for naming neighborhoods."

Hahn does not disagree, and work is underway to change the procedure. This month or next, she said, the subject will come before the city's Education and Neighborhoods Committee, which she heads.

"We are going to have a formal motion in committee to create a citywide process.... Eventually, the name change would need to be approved by the City Council."

But Hahn said she strongly favors neighborhood names.

"The reason for all the names is to give neighborhoods an identity and distance themselves from the crime-ridden image and stigma of South-Central Los Angeles."

In fact, in April, the City Council voted unanimously to change the term South-Central Los Angeles to South Los Angeles.

Many of the names were suggested in 2001 by the 8th District Empowerment Congress, an advisory committee of residents, business leaders and neighborhood activists headed by then-Councilman Mark Ridley-Thomas.

"A lot of the names are the historic name of the tract, such as Green Meadows," said Ridley-Thomas, now a state assemblyman. "The empowerment congress set about the task of naming neighborhoods for the purpose of reclaiming their historical identity."

South L.A. Councilwoman Jan Perry said that sometimes the names can make "the history of the district more alive."

For example, the neighborhood west of the Harbor Freeway and south of Imperial Highway recently was officially dubbed "Athens on the Hill," although "the residents of that neighborhood have been calling it that a long time," Hahn said. "There's a legend there used to be a Greek community there, but we could never find a historian to verify it one way or another. So the residents wanted to formalize an urban legend."

Some officials said that distancing a neighborhood from the greater label of South Los Angeles also could have an economic benefit.

"Historically an area that is named will have a greater value in real estate than one that isn't," said Greg Fisher, a Perry deputy.

Some remain skeptical.

"OK, say I tell someone I live in Canterbury Knolls," said Ray Lockett, a car detailer who lives in the area. "They gonna say, 'Where's Canterbury Knolls?' And I'm gonna say, '78th and Normandie.' "

http://articles.latimes.com/print/2004/jan/05/local/me-hoodnames5

You Hear About Sarkisian? Zocola Public Square

DEC. 9, 2013

“Sarkisian” is one of the most common Armenian last names. But when my cousin Greg called this week and opened with “You hear about Sarkisian?” I knew he wasn’t talking about Serge Sarkisian, president of the Republic of Armenia.

He was calling to tell me about Steve Sarkisian, who had been named the head football coach of the USC Trojans. Sarkisian’s hiring may be the single most brilliant move in the history of the 133-year-old South Los Angeles institution—at least, to Armenians living in Southern California.

Henry Sahakian, a salesman from Glendale, told me, “I hope this inspires the Armenian community to follow and play more football.” His wife, Margaret, chimed in, “We are all so proud.”

Growing up in Los Angeles, an Armenian-American and member of the second generation of my family to be born here (in 1954, in my case), I often heard the words “Armenian” and “proud.” I learned to be proud that Alexander the Great only “partially” conquered my ancestral land. Proud that Armenia was the first country on earth to proclaim Christianity its national religion (in 301 A.D.). Proud that TV detective “Mannix”—Mike Connors, né Krikor Ohanian—was Armenian. Proud that four-time Formula One champion Alain Prost, the main rival of Ayrton Senna, was half-Armenian.

I was also proud of singer Charles Aznavour, artist Arshile Gorky, astrophysicist Viktor Hambartsumian, chess champion Garry Kasparov, financier Kirk Kerkorian, singer Cher (Cherilyn Sarkisian), composer Aram Khachaturian, Russian MiG fighter plane designer Artem Mikoyan, writer William Saroyan, and World War II pilot Anthony Krikorian, my dad. Heck, I was even proud of the creator of The Chipmunks, Ross Bagdasarian.

And, decades before Steve Sarkisian walked a college football sideline, my Uncle Aram revered Notre Dame football coach Ara Parseghian, who led the Fighting Irish to national championships in 1966 and 1973.

Sadly, over the past decade, the image of Los Angeles Armenians has been marred by an increase in criminal activity. In the 1940s, a Los Angeles County Sheriff’s deputy told my Uncle Harry that no Armenian was ever in the county jail. Today, there are scores in Men’s Central. (For the record, I was there myself three times.) The Armenian Power street gang is known for credit card fraud and auto thefts.

But it is that hit to our reputation that makes this USC news so welcome.

I’m one of those Armenians who remember Sarkisian from a golden period of Trojan football. In the early 2000s, when USC was dominating college football and its head coach Pete Carroll was showered with praise, my cousin Dave and I knew the real reason. The offensive coach was Armenian. To us, Carroll was a figurehead. The real star of the sidelines was his assistant, Sarkisian.

Of course, not all Armenians see this the same way. Shant Ohanian, a lawyer and UCLA alumnus, points out some chinks in Sarkisian’s Armenian armor. “It’s funny, as soon as Sarkisian’s hire was announced, you saw all over Facebook Armenians, especially USC students and fans, celebrating the hire—not necessarily as a USC fan, but more as a ‘fellow’ Armenian,” said the self-described “die-hard UCLA fan” as he started slinging Bruin-tipped arrows. “Many, however, don’t know Sarkisian’s Armenian background; it’s mostly his Armenian last name that matters. I don’t think Steve Sarkisian himself speaks a word of Armenian; his father is an Iranian-Armenian who immigrated to the USA when he was 18. He married his wife, Steve’s mother, who is Irish-American. Steve was born in Torrance.”

Ohanian went on, “Nevertheless, as soon as he has some success with USC, you will see more and more Armenians claiming him as one of their own.”

Ohanian was married just five weeks ago to Silva Sevlian. I went to their wedding at the St. Leon Armenian Cathedral in Burbank. For their honeymoon, I gave them my list of places they should see in Paris. They had a lovely time. A fairytale wedding followed by a dream of a honeymoon. But this week, with the announcement of Sarkisian as the new Trojan head coach, that honeymoon seemed over.

Silva went to USC and didn’t like Shant’s even slight criticisms of the new coach.

“My husband’s opinion doesn’t matter. He is nothing but a Bruin,” said Silva. “Sarkisian becoming coach is second only to an Armenian becoming the mayor of Los Angeles.”

Michael Krikorian is a writer in Los Angeles. His first novel is Southside, and he’s on Twitter@makmak47.

http://www.zocalopublicsquare.org/2013/12/09/you-hear-about-sarkisian/ideas/nexus/

Winston Agrees With BookLoons, Reads Into the Night

Reviewed by Mary Ann Smyth    Michael Lyons is a Los Angeles gang reporter. He can walk freely in the gang controlled parts of LA. He is welcomed to conduct interviews with gang members. Why then is he shot and wounded, dropped to the sidewalk just two blocks from City Hall?

After the first shock sets in, his fellow reporters start a betting pool and wonder why it hadn't happened before. Who shot him? Lyons does live on the edge. Then Lyons is accused of organizing the shooting for the publicity it would bring him. Because of this, he is fired as an embarrassment to the paper.

Can he leave it there? Of course not. When three murders occur in LA, Lyons realizes all are tied into his shooting. He suspects a notorious, imprisoned gang leader, Big Evil, as the instigator of the shootings, his own included. Big Evil's younger brother is one of those murdered.

Southside by Michael Krikorian sports a tightly written plot that will keep you reading long into the night. Michael Lyons is invincible. Much like his author. Krikorian has reported extensively on Los Angeles' notorious street gangs 'and receives more letters from inmates in California state prisons than he does bills and junk mail combined!' He must pull extensively from his career to write such convincing dialogue. This is a book worth your time.

http://www.bookloons.com/cgi-bin/Review.asp?bookid=16599

Winston does NOT like to be interrupted when reading "Southside"

Suspense Magazine Calls Southside "A Good Story"

"Southside is a solid debut novel from Los Angeles Times crime reporter Michael Krikorian. Krikorian writes what he knows, spinning a tale about a Los Angeles Times crime reporter, Michael Lyons, who covers the many gangs of the City of Angels. As an editor, I would have counseled Krikorian to not give the character-clearly a fictionalized version of himself-his own first name, which gets a bit too on the nose, but that's a minor nitpick.

The novel gets off to a somewhat disjointed start, with frequent shifting of narrative viewpoint from third person to first person, but the reader settles into the format and eventually the loose ends come together. The story really gets rolling when Lyons is gunned down in the street but survives. He has made many enemies through his reporting, but none of the possible suspects really seems to make sense. As the police investigation stalls, Lyons himself digs deeper into the case.

This classic set-up takes a nice twist about a third of the way in, setting the police department against Lyons and the paper, and the paper against Lyons, ratcheting up tensions and complicating the investigation. Other victims, who don't survive, may be connected, but the evidence is slim. Overall, these plot threads are handled well. "Southside" is a thriller rather than a whodunit, since the reader is introduced to the killer fairly early, and Krikorian builds the tension effectively as you wonder if the police or Lyons are going to catch up with the murderer before there's another victim.

The good guys occasionally make some rather large intuitive leaps from thin evidence, and sometimes the narrative tries a little too hard for its gritty street atmosphere, but despite being a little rough around the edges, "Southside" is a good story populated with colorful characters. Most of those characters, on either side of the law, are not simple stereotypes, but are complex, real people, which makes for engaging reading. It's definitely worth a try and provides firm footing for additional adventures for Michael Lyons."

Reviewed by Scott Pearson, author of "Star Trek: Honor in the Night" and cohost of the Generations Geek podcast, for Suspense Magazine

Nathan ignoring the grizzly bear at the San Diego Zoo

LA. Observed

Writing what you know: crime reporter Michael Krikorian

By Kevin Roderick | November 20, 2013 11:58 PM

When we last heard about journalist Michael Krikorian, he had written a colorful and revealing op-ed piece about the night he shot some guy in a brawl near Compton. [Technically, the last mention at LA Observed was when Krikorian blogged about his annual trip to Italy with girlfriend Nancy Silverton, the Pizzeria Mozza chef. But that was just a Morning Buzz brief.] That night outside a bar near Compton, Krikorian pulled an AK-47 from his car trunk and fired off 17 rounds. Not your average LA Times crime reporter.

Now he's out with his first crime novel, Southside, in which a main character is an LA Times gang reporter in South LA. Writing about what you know and all that.

Los Angeles Times gang reporter Michael Lyons has just left his favorite downtown saloon when he is shot and wounded on the sidewalk two blocks from City Hall. After the initial shock, fellow reporters put together a betting pool. The bet? "Who Shot Mike?" There are a lot of contenders. When the LAPD's investigation stalls, the Times runs editorials critical of the police. Then, when detectives uncover an audio tape of Lyons talking to a gang member about the benefits of getting shot, they release the tape. The embarrassed newspaper editor fires Lyons, who then sets out on the streets of Southside Los Angeles with a vengeance to find the shooter. When three seemingly unrelated people are murdered on the streets of L.A., Lyons connects them to his own shooting. The tie-in? An imprisoned, notorious gang shot-caller known as Big Evil, who Lyons made famous in a gang profile and whose younger brother is among the victims. But who is doing the killing?

Bestselling author Michael Connelly, himself an ex-Times crime reporter who sets his crime novels on the streets of Los Angeles, says of "Southside:" “In a place as well traveled by storytellers as Los Angeles, Michael Krikorian blazes a unique path with this powerful first novel.Southside has muscle, insight and all the right stuff."

One of the Most Entertaining Thrillers of 2013 - S.F. Book Review

San Francisco Book Review,  Nov. 11, 2013

"Southside" 

--- Michael Krikorian is a professional writer, a journalist, showing the world he can turn his hand to fiction and, in Southside, produce one of the most entertaining thrillers so far this year. In this first novel, he’s playing safe by setting the book in LA, with his hero working for the Los Angeles Times. Not that the book is in any way autobiographical, of course. But the character of the hero draws on people the writer has known over the years. The result is both immensely thrilling and wonderfully informative. Indeed, a part of the fun of reading this book is the opportunity to learn more about the cultures in both the newsroom and on the streets where the gangs rule.

So here we go with the first in a series featuring Mike Lyons, a reporter on the gang beat in the Southside of LA with a shady past of his own and a habit of drinking while on the job. When someone shoots him in the gut, he’s not surprised, just a little puzzled at the timing. So then it’s a race to find out who took the shot before he comes back for another attempt.

- Reviewed by David Marshall 

Here's the link to the review

http://citybookreview.com/southside/

Ten Memorable Quotes From Outlaws I've Interviewed

1. "What's wrong with society today is there are no more fist fights". --Sonny Barger, leader of the Oakland Hells Angels 5/2/1996  L.A. Times

2. "Then I was going to stick the knife in his forehead, and I was hoping his mother was coming to visit him that day. That's how vicious I was, I knew I was going to death row."- Donald "Big D" Garcia, Mexican Mafia hitter-turned gang interventionist on his about his plan to kill a Hoover in County back in the 70s. 6/9/2003 L.A. Times

3."We should be on the list, We the most hated gang in town" - Set Trip from 5-deuce Hoover on a list complied by the  Mayor of L.A. and the chief of the LAPD of the 11 "worst" gangs in the city. 

 

4.  "I guess it's the establishment that I spent three years fighting for. You take off the khakis and the blue and put on some jeans and a leather jacket and immediately you become an asshole."  - "Wino" Willie Forkner, the outlaw biker who inspired the Marlon Brando movie "The Wild One" on what he was "rebelling against". When asked that in the 1954 film, Johnnie, the Brando character, replies famously "Whaddaya got?" 5/2/1996 L.A. Times.

5. "All the guys getting busted, they don’t realize what a life sentence is. When the pop goes off, when their head pops out of their ass and they realize they ain’t going home after just five years. When they realize they’ll never be able to taste a Big Mac or a Quarter Pounder again. To see them go crazy when they hear their moms is dying and they’re locked up and can’t go see her. When they hear their woman is pregnant by their best homeboy. When they realize they’ll never see a night sky again." - Ronald "Kartoon" Antwine, storied former menace to society Bounty Hunter who  is now a Hollywood location scout.  From LA Weekly cover story "War and Peace In Watts". 7/14/2005 LA Weekly 

6. "Armenian people who put AP down, that say we are a disgrace, they don't know this life, This gangster's life." - Armen "Silent" Petrossyan, fallen leader of Armenain Power. 8/18/1997 L.A. Times

7. "Two girls are dead. If I'm not a monster than what am I? - Rex Krebs in a jailhouse interview admitting he killed two college students in San Luis Obispo. Krebs is on Death Row for the killings 4/27/1999 Fresno Bee

8. "Man, we've all lost homies, I know you're upset and hurt about your dead homies, but we have to move forward," -- Kevin "Big Cat" Doucette, feared  Rollin '60s shot caller urging younger gang members in his gruff way to focus on the living, not the dead. 4/5/1998 L.A. Times

9. "Who?" - Convicted cop killer Carlos "Stoney" Velasquez on being asked "Did you know Abel?" referring to Abel Escalante, the Los Angeles County Deputy Sheriff he was convicted of killing. "Oh, yeah. Man, I don't even know his first name." 10/21/2010 LA Weekly

10. "Getting the death penalty saved my life." - Big Evil.  11/29/1998   Nearly 15 years later, late in the summer of 2013 I reminded Big Evil of that quote. He nodded and said "It did."