‘Rolaids Red’ : The Men in Blue Pay Their Tributes to an Ailing Comrade

Sgt. Hal Moore, a veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department motorcycle detail, arrived at the station house Thursday not on his big police Kawasaki but in the back seat of a squad car. Moore has not ridden his cycle since January, when the cancer was discovered.

He was ushered to a squad room, where he had been told a few friends were to join in coffee and present him with a few mementos of a 24-year career that has included escorting three Presidents and, most recently, several teams of Olympians.

Instead, Moore, 52, was greeted by Chief Daryl F. Gates and numerous other Los Angeles Police Department brass, three members of the “Hill Street Blues” cast, two city councilmen, crews from nine television stations and 100 of his fellow motorcycle officers, most still wearing their blue uniforms and knee-high black riding boots.

“Oh,” Moore said, “you are going to get me crying.”

Seated by Wife

He was walked quickly to a lieutenant’s desk, where he was seated alongside his wife and 8-year-old son, Douglas, who like his father had come dressed in gray slacks and a blue blazer.

One by one, the dignitaries came forward to praise Moore and heap upon him a trophy room’s worth of pictures, plaques, pins and medals, including the first Los Angeles Police Department 1984 Olympic Games Ribbon.

There were gifts of a video cassette recorder for Moore and flowers for his wife. Douglas was given tickets to the Dodgers’ opener. A telegram of congratulations from President Reagan was read. A cake was brought out, decorated with Moore’s radio call letters, “24M120,” a touch which lit his face with a smile.

The word cancer was never spoken; a mention of Moore’s “recovery time” was the only reference to the disease. Throughout it all, in what Moore would later call “the biggest challenge of my police career,” he fought a mostly successful battle to hold back tears. His son was not so successful.

Finally, Moore stood.

Halting Voice

“I’m going to say something,” he said in a soft, halting voice. “It will be difficult, as you will soon notice. My speech has been off. However, I can say one thing. I love this department. The Los Angeles Police Department is very dear to me. And, within the department, I love this motorcycle squad.

“I believe we are the peacemakers in this city. . . . I have served with the finest, and I will always know that.”

The affair had been organized in less than two days by younger officers in Moore’s squad, more than one of whom said they look upon him as a second father.

Many officers expressed concern over Moore’s condition. He had collapsed while working on a “Hill Street Blues” production. Doctors found tumors in his brain and removed them. Then a cancer spot was discovered on his lung. The red hair that played a part in Moore’s nickname, “Rolaids Red,” is only now beginning to grow back, the baldness a byproduct of radiation therapy.

Sick Leave

The officers, however, were quick to say this was not a retirement party. Moore is on sick leave, and they clearly want to believe he will come back.

After more than an hour, the uniformed officers gathered for a photograph with Moore and Douglas (the boy never left his father’s side) and then drifted away.

Only Moore and a few others were left. With a stiff gait, he walked outside and climbed into the back of a waiting patrol car. Six police motorcycles, lights blinking, provided an escort home.