When Harris County sheriff’s deputies return fire, they really return fire. Especially if they’re at a bar.
The December 27 drive-by shooting at the venerable West Alabama Ice House didn’t get much notice from the media, it being just another bit of the gunplay that tends to liven up a night on the town here.
But gee, it sounds like it was fun.
Three off-duty deputies were at the icehouse about midnight, and things seemed quiet enough. Then a 1992 Ford pickup truck screamed down the street, with two twentysomethings in it, one of whom started firing a .22-caliber pistol.
The cops tried to get the license plate but couldn’t, so they settled back to their table. Soon they heard the telltale sounds indicating the truck was about to make a second pass. “By that time the guys had loaded up and said, ‘If he comes back again, forget about it, we’re returning fire,’ ” says Burt Springer, the lawyer representing two of the deputies.
And did they ever. Somewhere around 40 shots’ worth. Investigators reportedly ran out of the little markers used to identify spent shell casings and had to borrow paper cups. Basically, Springer says, the deputies emptied their guns.
Not to put too fine a point on it, butย all the shots missed. The truck was shot up like Swiss cheese, but neither the driver nor the trigger-happy passenger was hit. They were stopped a mile or so later — not because they were driving a truck riddled with bullet holes, but because they ran a red light.
(Deputies do have to keep up their target-shooting qualifications in Harris County, but those tests are not taken in bars.)
Sheriff’s spokesman Lieutenant Robert Van Pelt says the department’s internal affairs division is still looking into the incident, but Springer thinks nothing will come of it. Since no one was hit, the district attorney’s office did not send anyone to the scene, making a grand jury review more unlikely.
Springer says the deputies had been at the bar only a short time and weren’t drunk. Not that it would matter: “Even police officers who’ve been drinking are allowed to defend themselves,” he says.
If only they could aim.
Point-Counterpoint
Cue the inbred banjoist from Deliverance — it’s Dueling Q&As!
Deborah Stratman is a Chicago-based artist who’s working on “The Evacuation Route Project,” a compilation of personal and alternative disaster-evacuation routes that serve as “an architecture of movement” that may help people “understand how fear motivates us.”
Naturally, she chose to base the project in Houston. (That’s because, she says, “the proximity to the Gulf and hurricanes and flooding” — but wait, she’s not done yet! — “and the overwhelming glut of industrialization along the canal made it sort of pregnant with the potential for chemical and natural disasters.”)
Tom Ryan, on the other hand, is with the Texas Department of Public Safety’s disaster committee.
Q. What is an alternative disaster route?
Stratman: It’s anything from people who would choose that they would leave on a bicycle, that they would choose public transportation, that they would leave in a canoe.
Q. Would you suggest leaving the city during a disaster by bicycle?
Ryan: (Long pause) No. I don’t think so, would you? It’s not a very fast way to goย I think the canoe idea is not practicalย Are there rivers going through Houston?
Q. Tell us more “alternative routes.”
Stratman: Other people have been thinking of it more as a way to plot out a route that’s more meaningful. For others, it’s almost like a bizarre tourism — they’ll stop by the park where they’ll get this view of the city or ‘Oh, I’ll go to this garden.’ ”
Q. As an evacuation official, are there any plans where you anticipate which parks will get the most traffic on the way out, and are there contingencies that handle that?
Ryan: (Long pause) Not to my knowledge.
Q. What’s your favorite disaster movie?
Stratman: Well, it’s not really a disaster film per se, but I really like Wages of Fear. It’s a French film about these guys who have to take tanks of nitroglycerine to put out a fire.
Ryan: (Long, long pause) Uhย ummmย you mean as training aid? Or something that’s shown commercially, like in theaters?ย The last thing I would ever do is go to a disaster movie. That’s my job. When I’m off work, I don’t do disasters.
Appreciating God-Given Beauty
It’s tough work transforming our government into a Southern Baptist church, so where does U.S. Representative Tom DeLay go when he wants to relax and refuel? Nowhere else but Hooters, the soft-porn restaurant chain where waitresses are judged by how tightly they squeeze into skimpy tops and shorts.
We don’t know if DeLay himself went and showed the ladies just why he’s nicknamed The Hammer — his office didn’t return our calls — but it’s obvious he endorses Hooters’ philosophy that it ain’t a meal unless you can ogle some Men’s Club wannabe.
The December financial report of DeLay’s political action committee, Americans for a Republican Majority, shows an outlay of $117.19 at a Washington, D.C., Hooters. (Pretty large bill; we can only hope the ARM PACers did not imbibe any ungodly alcohol while leering at the cleavage.)
Judging from the filing and DeLay’s past statements, we know: a) Don’t send your kids to liberal schools like Baylor or Texas A&M because they have “coed dorms”; and b) Fine family-values dinner conversation can include “Check out the tits on that waitress!”
Is Hooters worried about being taken over by fundamentalists? “We’re in the hospitality business,” says Mike McNeil, marketing vice president for the chain. “We’re not going to discriminate against anyone based on politics.”
This article appears in Feb 5-11, 2004.