Mystery Killer Cuts Short New Life of Ex-Drinker

Five years ago, George White gave up shots of whiskey for 7-Ups with a splash of Coke.

Almost overnight, the thin, balding man who had stumbled out of Ventura’s downtown bars for more than two decades began to turn his life around.

In front of the same Main Street shops where he had often wandered drunk, White could now be seen sober every morning with a hose in hand, washing down the sidewalk.

“It gave him a purpose,” said Margie Perez, one of his three grown children. “He was trying to build himself back up.”

But that recovery ended abruptly last week. On Feb. 24, White, 63, was found stabbed to death at 8 a.m. at the Top Hat Burger Palace, where he did some kitchen work as well as cleaned out front.

1988’s First Killing

The slaying, which was the first of the year for Ventura, remains unsolved. Police say there was no evidence of robbery or other motives. There are no leads and no suspects.

“We’ve talked to a tremendous amount of people and received some information, but most has so far been fruitless,” Sgt. Roger Nustad said. “It’s pretty shocking that something like this would occur.”

The killing was one of the two or three that Ventura customarily logs each year. By comparison, Los Angeles had already tallied 119 killings in 1988 on the day that White was slain.

“Stuff like this doesn’t happen,” said Joe Struck, one of about 50 friends who were at Ivy Lawn Cemetery on Saturday for the burial. “This isn’t Chicago or L.A. or Detroit. It’s just too small a town.”

Those who knew White after his turnaround say he was a kind, easy-going man who never hesitated to give a few dollars to a friend or even a transient in need. Good-humored, he often joked with employees at the hamburger stand and brought small presents to his friends there.

“He was a part of the Top Hat family,” said Marcy Hamby, who worked at the popular stand at the corner of Main and Palm streets for 18 years. “People will miss him.”

Those that did not know White still found him a familiar sight: fair and freckled, his head covered with a baseball cap and his feet strapped into a pair of Birkenstock sandals.

Early at Work

By 7 a.m. his slightly hunched frame was out on Main Street, where he nodded or waved to passers-by in front of the Star Lounge, Doug’s Deli or Stevenson’s restaurant supply--each of which paid him $10 a month for washing their sidewalks.

“If you lived in Ventura, then you saw him,” said Rhonda, an employee at the deli.

Born in Worcester, Mass., in 1924, White came to Ventura when he was 28 and soon joined Carpenters Local No. 2463. In 1963, he separated from his wife, Mary. It was the same year that one of his daughters, an 8-year-old, died in a swing-set accident at Holy Cross School.

Estranged from his family, White roamed the dives of downtown Ventura, drinking shots of his favorite Kessler whiskey with chasers of 7-Up. Occasionally, he would talk about the pain he felt over losing the little girl. But to most people, he was just “Crazy George,” a quietly deteriorating man with no front teeth.

“He was just like all the rest of the drunks,” said Dave Etheridge, co-owner of the Star Lounge. “Didn’t care about anything else but his next drink.”

Although his binges left him haggard and sometimes jailed, White found sympathy among the Top Hat employees. When he got paid, they would take some of his money and save it for him. When he ran out of that money, they would feed him.

“He would be drunk, but he wasn’t mean,” Hamby said. “There’s just some that you feel sorry for.”

One day, about five years ago, White got rolled. His attackers beat him up badly and sprayed his face with black paint. When he woke up in the hospital, he vowed he would stop drinking.

After years in and out of flophouses, White took his Social Security checks and rented a nice place at a subsidized senior citizens’ complex on Palm Street.

Persistence Pays Off

It took him three tries to pass his driver’s examination, but, once he had his license, he went out and bought a brand-new Nissan pickup.

More than anything, though, White found satisfaction in cleaning up in front of the Main Street shops. None of the merchants actually sought him out; White just showed up one day and began hosing down the sidewalk.

“He brought himself back,” said Jerry O’Neill, an old friend who was sipping a beer the other day at the American Legion Lounge. “When a man can pick himself up like that, you got to give him credit.”

But all that ended last week. White, who was inside the box-like hamburger stand, was stabbed repeatedly by an intruder. Friends were sickened by more than the blood splattered throughout the small kitchen.

They mourned the life White could have led.

“He came back,” said longtime friend Donald Peak. “He was just starting to live again.”