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Scanner Report 11-30-11
updated: Nov 30, 2011, 7:00 AM

By Roger the Scanner Guy

So one of my neighbors escaped - moved out. He had this betta fish on the counter next to the kitchen sink in a pitcher. It had clear blue stones in it and a bamboo plant sticking out of the water. He gave it all to me. Fish don't look so good, so I took the bamboo out of the water, cleaned the pitcher and rocks put a gallon of purified water in the pitcher, and put the fish back in. I hope he survives. He's breathing, not moving much. He was kinda sideways there, his color was weird. Shakey says he looks better. I hope so. On the first I'll get him better plants. I don't want to get an aquarium, but I might anyway. What the HELL - I don't need food; eating is overrated anyway.

Pooh Bear's surgery has been postponed till next week, giving me time to stress out some more. Which is something I am extremely good at. He has some infection in his eye I gotta give him eye drops. He doesn't like me taking care of him. He wants a woman to take care of him. I'm very nervous like Felix Unger; I make otter people, cats, and fish nervous too.

I've been thinking about an old friend of mine lately. I bet a few of you knew him and wondered what ever happened to him. He died, that is why you haven't seen Pat Perez in years. He died November the 21, 2001 or thereabouts. The story goes that he was riding the rails, on a freight train and flew off near King City, crushing his skull. I called the police up there and asked them if they found any money or travelers checks on his body. They said "No". I told them he always carried money and travelers checks on him. They assumed it was an accident and didn't seem to care either way so it was left at that. I don't know what happened whether someone bashed his head in or threw him off that train in the middle of nowhere. I never believed that someone happened upon the body ransacking his pockets for money. I always assumed he was killed for his money. Even though Pat could be quite annoying, he was a true friend and fellow drunk. If anyone could hold his liquor, it was Pat.

I did hear some wild stories about him, and his domestic life with his wife wasn't good. He lived in a garage on West Pedregosa. His wife lived in their house somewhere up the pass. He loved her. but loved booze more. No one lived in the house on Pedregosa Street. He told me he was the caretaker of this empty house; the owners lived in Los Angeles and hadn't lived in the home since the 40's. Once in a while the original owners would come to Santa Barbara and stay in the home. That was his story.

There was something awfully strange about the whole thing because the house hadn't been touched in years. It had been cleaned, but not for many years. There were commercial products in the home from the 40's I'm talking a full unopened box of clothes washing soap in one of the kitchen cabinets. It was like something out of a Stephen King novel. There were also rats in the house, as if they were the owners. The rats were tame and would observe people in the home as if they were intruders. I always thought Pat was the true owner of the home because after he died, it was fixed up and sold. Maybe he and his wife lived there at one time and after losing her could not live in there without her. The garage was a one car garage with a fridge in it. He slept on an old wooden bed with no cushion, in a sleeping bag. He wore layers of clothing in bed. He even slept there in the winter time. In the back yard, a garden hose hung from a tree and he took cold showers every day.

When I first met him in 1980, I lived in Newhouse. He owned a tree trimming business and hired me and a couple others to work for him. It was hard work he didn't pay very well but he kept us busy. He owned an old flatbed truck, and a Honda motorcycle with a dent in the gas tank. I knew him for many years but didn't really get to know him till the end of his life. He had this dream to ride the rails from Montecito to Salinas. He wanted to do it before he died. His father traveled the rails to pick lettuce in Salinas during the Depression. It was always his dream to experience what his father had. I always think about Pat this time of year as if he's saying hello and reminding me not to forget him. I haven't because he was a true friend and I always thought he was murdered and that it was an injustice that his death wasn't at least investigated. He was picked up and taken away.

That happens to a lot of people. When Pat was younger, I think he was a teacher's aide at UCSB. I don't know if he had a degree there but he was very smart. When I knew him he was a tree trimmer, a story teller, a Santa Barbara historian, a guitar player. He was 66 years of age when he died. At the time of his death he drove cabs and he always had money. In one Solstice parade he dressed up like Fidel Castro. He looked a lot like him. I guess maybe "G's" Death bought him up too. G is the woman that was burned to death on Quarantina Street a couple weeks ago another injustice.

But hey someone's getting 18 years for beating up a cop. How come they matter and we don't? If that kid beat up a private citizen he would probably do 6 months. I'm sorry Pat and "G" that both of you died in a suspicious manner and the powers that be seemed not to care. There are many others I could mention but won't.

Scanner Reports, Monday: