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Early in my career as a radio-music jock at KPOD in Crescent City, I used to sign off every evening with what was known at the time as a “signature song.” I’m not sure if there are any stations left anymore that allow their talent to do this sort of thing, if there are, I haven’t heard them.

The song I selected was “Wildfire,” by Michael Martin Murphy. He wrote the tune in 1968 with a fellow by the name of Larry Cansler and it appeared on Murphy’s 1975 album, “Blue Sky –Night Thunder.”

The first time I heard the song, I fell in love with it for its imagery —

She comes down from Yellow Mountain
On a dark, flat land she rides
On a pony she named Wildfire
With a whirlwind by her side
On a cold Nebraska night

Oh, they say she died one winter
When there came a killing frost
And the pony she named Wildfire
Busted down it’s stall
In a blizzard he was lost

She ran calling Wildfire [x3]

By the dark of the moon I planted
But there came an early snow
There’s been a hoot-owl howling by my window now
For six nights in a row
She’s coming for me, I know
And on Wildfire we’re both gonna go

We’ll be riding Wildfire [x3]

On Wildfire we’re gonna ride
Gonna leave sodbustin’ behind
Get these hard times right on out of our minds
Riding Wildfire

In a 2008 interview with writer Vernell Hackett, Murphy talked about the origins of the song and the context in which in was written.

“I was working on a concept album called The Ballad of Calico for Kenny Rogers with my friend Larry Cansler. I was in my third year of college at UCLA, but I was living in the mountains in California. I would drive down to Larry’s apartment in Los Angeles and sleep on his floor, because we would work sometimes 22 hours a day on the album.

The night “Wildfire” came to me, Larry went to bed and I went to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. I dreamed the song in its entirety. I woke up and pounded on Larry’s door and said, “Can you come down and help me with this song?”

His wife got up and made us coffee and we finished it in two or three hours.

The song came from deep down in my subconsciousness. My grandfather told me a story when I was a little boy about a legendary ghost horse that the Indians talked about. In 1936, author J. Frank Dobie identified this ghost horse story as the most prominent one in the lore of the Southwest.

We were working on my album Blue Sky – Night Thunder at the time, and my producer Bob Johnson said, “I don’t see how that song will fit in with the rest of the material for that album.”

I asked him if I could record it as an album cut, because I felt very strongly about it.

We recorded the song at Caribou Ranch in Colorado, ten thousand feet up in the Rocky Mountains. After we recorded the song, Bob said, “You know it came out better than I thought it would. Let’s play it for the kitchen staff here and see what they think.”

They loved it, so Bob said, “OK, we’ll release it as the first single.”

I can’t tell you that I understand what the song means, but I think it’s about getting above the hard times. I’ve had people tell me they wish they could ride that mystical horse and get away from their hard times, whatever they are. I also think a lot of it is wrapped up in my Christian upbringing.

In the Biblical Book of Revelation, it talks about Jesus coming back on a white horse. I came to be a Christian when I was five or six years old and I was a cowboy kid with Gene Autry and Roy Rogers, so when the preacher told me that Jesus would come back for me on a white horse, I was all wrapped up in that.

In the ghost story, the horse is a symbol of the Savior, in the same way C.S. Lewis used animals in The Chronicles of Narnia. When I lived in California in the late 60s, a lot of my friends were into the culture of the day—drugs and free sex—and I felt out of place there.

After “Wildfire” came out and was a hit for me, I was able to move back to Texas. So not only was a song I dreamed my most famous song, it also helped me get back to my native state.

People always ask me if I have a horse named Wildfire, and up until a few years I did not. I always said I’d never name a horse after the song. But when I got my Palomino mare, she was exactly what I always dreamed Wildfire to be, so gave her the name to my most famous song.”

Even today, if “Wildfire,” comes on the radio, I find myself belting out the lyrics and painting pictures in my mind from the words as I sing them.

Perhaps you’ve watched the new CBS television series, “Vegas.” The shows main characters Sheriff Ralph Lamb, is based on a real person.

The show depicts his battle with Vincent Savino, a ruthless Chicago gangster who plans to make Las Vegas his own. Dennis Quaid plays Lamb in the series and Michael Chiklis portrays Savino.

Lamb was sheriff for 18 years, longer than any Clark County sheriff. He forged a rural department into an effective urban one, and was largely responsible for merging the sheriff’s office and the Las Vegas Police Department into the single police agency dubbed Metro.

His grandfather died working cattle, when a horse bucked him off. Later, Lamb’s father met the same fate in 1938, while working as a pick-up rider during Tonopah’s July 4th rodeo.

The deceased Lamb left 11 children, one so young that the father died with a telegram in his pocket announcing the boy’s birth. The future sheriff was only 11.

Lamb served in World War II in the Pacific with Army intelligence. He aspired to become a FBI agent, but the family’s immediate need for income put college out of the question even with the GI Bill.

So he hired on as a Clark County deputy sheriff and soon became chief of detectives.

Lamb departed the force in 1954 to form a detective agency with another ex-policeman. Their best-known client was Howard Hughes.

Lamb ran for sheriff in 1958 against Butch Leypoldt, and lost. But in 1961, when Leypoldt was named to the Nevada Gaming Control Board, the Clark County Commission appointed him to the unexpired term.

He won the election to a full term in 1962.Lamb’s administration brought in a modern crime lab, a mobile crime lab, and the city’s first SWAT team, which was kept secret until one of its snipers killed a bank robber who was threatening to shoot a hostage.

His most important contribution was helping form the Metropolitan Police Department. In the early 1970s, both the Las Vegas Police Department and the Clark County Sheriff’s Department struggled with jurisdictional problems.

People called the wrong agency to report crimes in progress, delaying police response. Both agencies were strapped for staff, yet used a lot of it duplicating record-keeping and administrative functions.

Unlike most efforts at consolidation, the Metro legislation slid through the Nevada Legislature with ease, and Lamb ended up in charge of the joint agency. Most people attributed that to Lamb’s political muscle, since  his brother Floyd was a senator and his younger brother Darwin a county commissioner.

One of Lamb’s efforts at efficiency, however, helped cost him the post that seemed made for him. It was called the Task Force, and was an élite unit of experienced officers, handpicked by Lamb himself.

If burglars became particularly aggressive, the Task Force set up sting operations buying stolen goods and then busting the sellers. Then it moved on to attack some other kind of crime.

It made life miserable for crooks. When a hotel building boom brought in a new crop of hoods trying to gain a foothold in casinos, Task Force officers identified and kept track of them.

Lamb believed it worked like a charm. But many of his officers hated it, seeing the Task Force as an arrogant outfit, hogging the glory and leaving the real work to everybody else.

Then there was Joe Blasko. A controversial Las Vegas officer known for beating up suspects — one died — Blasko ended up in Metro’s organized crime unit after the merger. In 1978 he was accused of leaking information to mob boss Tony Spilotro, and Lamb fired him, but the damage was done.

The longtime sheriff was also weakened by his 1977 indictment for income tax evasion. The IRS attempted to prove Lamb spent more money than he earned as sheriff in such activities as building a home, complete with guest house and horsemanship facilities; proving it would mean Lamb had concealed income and evaded the taxes on it.

They also tried to prove certain loans, including one for $30,000 from casino owner Benny Binion, were never meant to be repaid and were, therefore, taxable income. However, U.S. District Judge Roger D. Foley acquitted Lamb of all charges.

He said the IRS had failed to prove that anybody paid for the building materials, so they probably were gifts, not subject to taxation. Similarly, said Foley, it was up to the government to prove that Binion’s loan was never repaid, and it failed to do so.

But Lamb was politically wounded, and didn’t recover. The following year he lost a bid for re-election, by a landslide, to his former vice-squad commander, John McCarthy.

He made another bid in 1994 but lost.

There is no such thing as coincidence. Everything happens for a reason and in its season.

Take for instance the removal of Rear Admiral Charles Gaouette, the commander of the John C. Stennis Carrier Strike Group from his ship – mid deployment – and sent back to the homeport in Washington state.  The Stennis deployed from Bremerton, four months ahead of schedule, in late August to maintain a dual-carrier presence in the Middle East.

The U.S. Navy won’t say why, but there seems to be a lot of guessing.

The top guess is there was some sort of sexual misconduct, or personal misconduct involving alcohol.  Sources close to the situation both on the ground in Libya and in Washington, D.C. say, it more than likely has something to do with Benghazi.

This falls in line with reports urgent requests from the CIA annex for military back-up were called for during the attack, but the CIA was directed to “stand down.” Furthermore, these sources independently suggest Gaouette moved the fleet closer to Libya during the Benghazi attack, preparing to launch armed aircraft for air support – against orders.

Again, this is speculation. Neither the Navy, nor the Pentagon will discuss the case.

A Caliphate is the first system of government established in Islam where officials govern according to Sharia or religious law. With that said, on September 9th, 2012, Israel’s Home Front Defense Minister Avi Dichter warned that the Muslim Brotherhood has co-opted the “Arab Spring” with the goal of creating a “caliphate” to span the Middle East.

“What started in Tunis and continued in Egypt is ongoing in Syria, and will threaten Jordan and other Arab countries,” Dichter said. “The Brotherhood already has an outpost in the Palestinian territories, in the form of Hamas.”

However, it could be coming to a neighborhood near you.

A 2001 raid in Switzerland uncovered an Islāmic plan on infiltrating, subverting and ultimately defeating the U.S. and its Allies. Eighty file boxes full of evidence, submitted during the 2008 Holy Land Foundation trial, and are still being withheld by the Department of Justice.

During the trial, brought by the Justice Department in 2007 and again in 2008, it was found the “charity” had funneled more than $12 million to the terrorist organization, Hamas. Prosecutors were able to convict five Islamists, including a founding board member of CAIR.

Strangely, “subject matter experts” were later called in who said the documents were inadmissible as evidence. These experts have yet to be identified and the grounds on which they based their conclusion explained.

Meanwhile, the Obama administration, which has had visits from the Muslim Brotherhood to the Whit House, continues to stonewall Congresses requests to release the documents. Furthermore, the blueprints show how American-Islāmic operatives from groups such as the Council on American-Islāmic Relations (CAIR) and the Islāmic Society of North America (ISNA) have been able to subvert both the U.S. and Israel.

For instance, Dr. Nabi Fai, director of the Kashmiri-American Council, exposed as a member of the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), a Pakistani intelligence agency officially listed by the U.S. government as a terrorist organization, received over $1 million from the Pakistani government to give to the various political campaigns. In the end, he contributed to the campaigns of President Barack Obama and Senator Dick Durbin among others.

Then there’s Iranian leader Mahmoud Ahmadinejad remarks to the United Nations General Assembly. He stated the present global, democratic leadership represented an oppressive international world order.

“The current world order is discriminatory and based on injustice,” he said. “There is no doubt that the world is in need of a new order and a fresh way of thinking, an order in which man is recognized as God’s supreme creation.”

Remember — Senator Joe McCarthy is still demonized for sounding the alarm about Communist infiltration within the U.S. – and he was eventually proved right.

Let me bitch and complain for a bit. It’ll make me feel better – promise.

Generally, I’d write about this sort of crap in my personal journal, but not today. Nope, this time I’m gonna publically shame me – or so I think.

After getting up this morning, I weighed myself.  I’m a hefty two-hundred and five pounds.

My first thought, “Holy shit!”

For years I’ve been battling a broken lower back, so exercise is difficult. Walking is even a strain on my vertebrae.

But I know I must do something – anything – which is better than nothing and nothings the one thing I’ve been doing the most.  But not today – I went for a stroll around the local neighborhood park.

In my youth, grade school through high school and even into my 20’s I was fast. At one point my top speed was clocked at 26.8 miles per hour.

I doubt I could go any faster than 6 miles an hour, if tested.

As a kid, I did a lot of running. In fact I could go for hours and hours and never realize how far I’d gone.

But that was running without a real purpose. I was jus’ a kid at play, having fun and doing what ever I could to keep from working my chores.

In track, I enjoyed the sprint, 100 and 220 yard dash and the 440 Relay. Long distant running was not my forte , as I saw it as work – and ask any long-distant runner – they’ll agree it is work.

When I was in the service, I could walk miles on end, hour-after-hour, through any weather condition, over any terrain. Today, though I found that walking half-a-mile or less in five-inch tall grass is an effort.

It wore me out, causing spasms in my lower back, so severe; I had to stop after one lap. Then I sat in my truck for 15 minutes waiting for the pain to subside.

But all is well that ends well – I’m home now — enjoying a Guinness Dark Draught.

 

Nevada needs to keep the Federal Government out of its business.  The state’s legalization of gambling in March of 1931 helped transformed Nevada into a major tourist destination during the Great Depression.

But to many that’s ancient history. And jus’ last week I reported:

“Governor Brian Sandoval is backing efforts for a federal law to regulate online poker, saying Internet gambling goes beyond what individual states can regulate, which is a split from the National Governors Association. Sandoval said the legislation is worth considering as Nevada would stand to gain if Internet poker is legalized.”

There is no need to involve the Federal Government and it’s over-use of regulations in Nevada’s quest to become the center of online gaming around the world. It’s obvious that Sandoval, a former federal Judge, Attorney General, and Gaming Commission Chairman and state legislator doesn’t understand or even grasp the concept of the 10th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.

Give free enterprise an opportunity to succeed.

One day Bluejay saw Deer mixing some mush for her family. Now Deer had broken her leg and was allowing the marrow to run into the acorn mush.

When Bluejay tasted this mush she found it delicious. She thought she had learned something, and went home very proud.

The next morning, when she mixed her mush, she broke her own leg, too. But, unfortunately to her grief, instead of marrow, blood ran into the mush.

When Bluejay saw she was not successful, she got very angry. In a fit of rage she pulled her tail feathers out and put them on her head.

As a result of this temper tantrum, Bluejay has worn a topknot ever since.

The shift was quiet since it began at 11 o’clock that evening. The rain had stopped and the early hours of the morning had taken on a chill.

It was just before two and the pair was nursing a thermos of coffee.

“Sam eight, Sam eight” the radio popped to life.

It was Theresa calling their unit. Dale reached over and picked up the microphone.

“This is Sam eight, go ahead,” answered.

He unclicked the button.

“Sam eight, I got a report of a 10-31 in the water fountain area. Some dude just rolled a patron from the Alibi Bar,” Theresa said. Then she added, “He might be 10-32.”

Rolling down my window and took a large swig of my coffee, then dumped the rest into the street. I knew that the bad guy had just hit someone and stole whatever he could.

It was the day after payday. The report of a gun made matters worse.

“Ten-four,” Dale calmly replied, “Our twenty is at the post office. ETA, less than three minutes.”

“How about I get out here, Dale?” I asked as Dale hung up the radio mic, “They’ll expect cars, but not on foot. Besides, he might be coming this way.”

Dale nodded his head up and down and I got out of the car. I turned on his radio and put the mic to his lips.

“Two Sam Eight to dispatch,” I said in a normal speaking tone.

“Dispatch, go Two Sam Eight” Theresa responded.

Looking to my right then said, “Two Sam Eight Tommy be in the area on foot.”

There was a brief pause, “Ten-four and ten-zero, Two Sam Eight.”

Theresa was telling me to be careful. They had known each other since grade school.

When we graduated, we walked together down the neatly arranged rows of fold up chairs in the new gym at Margaret Keating Elementary.

“Ten-four, dispatcher,” I came back.

Trotting up the long silent walkway past KPOD radio station, I could see the light of the control room as it reflected itself down to the sidewalk.

Jogging across B Street and into the water fountain area, I could see two city units ahead, Dale was standing with them. There was a dark figure lying on the ground.

I picked up the microphone. “I can see you One Sam Eight. Is that our victim?”

“Ten-four,” Dale responded, “You see anyone?”

“Negative,” Tommy replied.

About that moment a rhododendron bush to the left of me burst to life. Out of it popped a man.

He was short with brown tangled hair. I could see he had on a red plaid shirt.

The man turned and ran in the direction I had just come from.

“Dale! I got him. He’s running toward C Street!” I yelled, forgetting my radio.

I dashed after the man.

He ran fast as I tried to catch him. The pursuit crossed the feed store parking lot and turned up Highway 101.

In the distance, I could hear other officers attempting to join the foot race. After a quarter of a mile, the man started to slow down but that’s when I started to catch up to him.

The man turned left around a corner. We were nearing McNamara and Peeps Lumber Yard.

I could hear the chain link fence as the man climbed over it.

Within seconds I was at the same fence. I did not slow down.

Judged the distance from the sidewalk and across the grass to be less than 15 feet, I would jump over the fence on the run.

The first step was fine.

It was the second step that proved to be a problem as I slipped in the wet grass. I had flat-soled boots on and it was like ice-skating and I shot forward into the fence.

Crash!

I was able to stop myself from falling but I had lost my momentum to jump the fence. Now I would have to climb it.

So, I pulled myself up onto the chain linking. It rattled and shook as I did so.

Leaning over the top of the fence at my waist I proceeded to swing my legs over. The upper half of my body was already over the top.

Suddenly I stopped. I could go no further.

My belt caught me. The webbing held fast against the metal points of the fence.

I was stuck.

Kicking and struggling, I could not go back or forward on the fence. Suddenly my radio dropped out of its carrying case and crashed to the ground in front of me,  jus’ out of my reach.

“Damn,” I thought, as my mind raced ahead. “What if he’s out there and can see me?”

I instinctively reached back for my 38. It was missing also. It had fallen out when Tommy crashed into the fence.

Now, I was a sitting duck. my service belt had trapped me upside down on the chain link fence.

Worse yet, no one knew where I was except the robber I had been chasing. I continued to struggle, wiggled and pulled, but got nowhere with the fence.

Then I thought, “Maybe I can get my belt undone.”

Reaching up and I felt for the buckle. That too was a struggle.

It was held fast against the fence on the opposite side. I was hanging jus’ far enough over the fence that I couldn’t reach over it and get to the buckle.

Desperate, I needed to get free of  the fence. That’s when I decided to suck in my stomach and try to squirm free of my uniform pants.

Within moments I was out of my breeches. But I was still hanging upside down because I couldn’t get my feet out of my boots and they were still hung up in the legs of my pants, but now I could reach my radio.

“Two Sam Eight to One Sam Eight,” I called out.

“Go ahead Two Sam Eight,” it was Dale, “Where are you?”

I felt my face turn flush red, and then replied, “I’m on the south west corner of the lumber yard.”

“Sam 10 to dispatch,” the radio said. “We got him down at first stop light on Northcrest.”

Sam 10 had caught the bad guy.

Theresa responded, “Ten-four Sam 10,” then she proceeded to clear the radio by calling to each Sheriff’s unit.

“Sam 8 is 10-13,” Dale responded.

A minute later he walked past me as I hung on the fence.

“Dale?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dale said, “Where are you?”

Dale had turned around and walked past me again.

“To your left,” I nearly shouted.

Dale stopped and pulled out his flashlight. I could hardly see because of the big white beam of light that flashed in my eyes.

“Get me down, would you?!” I shouted in a near panic.

Dale started laughing as he walked towards me. He reached up and unlatched the buckle of my belt.

Flopping to the ground, I stood up and tucked my shirt back in my pants and snapped his radio back in its holder. Dale handed my revolver to me over the fence and I proceeded to walk through the lumberyard towards the front gate.

I could hear Dale laughing all the while.

Senator Harry Reid has been discharged from the hospital after a car crash on Interstate-15  in Las Vegas. Hospital spokeswoman Karen Gordon says the senator left less than three hours after the crash that happened jus’ after 1 p.m. Friday.

Officials from his office say he suffered bruising to his ribs and hip in the crash, and was taken to UMC by his security detail as a precaution. Reid officials say other members of the senator’s security detail and a staffer had minor injuries and were also taken to the hospital for evaluation.

Troopers say six vehicles were involved in the apparent chain reaction rear-end crash, including two police vehicles, two Capitol Police vehicles and two civilian vehicles. In May 2010, Reid’s wife, Landra, broke her neck and nose after being rear-ended by a tractor-trailer in a Washington D.C.

First lady Michelle Obama was also in Las Vegas Friday. She says it will take a lot of hard work by supporters to make sure President Barack Obama carries Nevada on Election Day.

She urged a cheering crowd to make phone calls and knock on doors to ensure a big voter turnout for a presidential race tight enough to go either way. Mrs. Obama told the crowd in a school gym to “work like you’ve never worked before,” and flashed a thumb’s up when the crowd chanted “four more years.”

The Democratic president and Republican challenger Mitt Romney were also in the Silver State this week pleading with voters to go to the polls.

Her return to Washington was delayed. A McCarran International Airport spokesman says her aircraft was held up for three hours because of mechanical problems.

The early voting message is resinating with Nevadan’s as one-quarter of active voters have already cast ballots in the November election during the first six days of early voting. The Secretary of State’s office shows nearly 317,000 people have voted either in person or by mail.

Democrats are outpacing Republicans at the polls so far by 10 percentage points. Early voting ends November 2nd.

Meanwhile politicians joined high school bands, beauty queens and others in the annual 74th Nevada Day Parade in Carson City.

Senator Dean Heller, and his wife, Lynne, kept to tradition by riding horses in the parade. His Democratic challenger, Congresswoman Shelley Berkley, was right behind him as she waved to people while riding atop a vintage red Pontiac.

Among parade co-grand marshals was Nevada Army National Guard Sgt. 1st Class Jeremiah Mock, who served three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Carson City sheriff’s deputies estimate the parade attracted a crowd of 35,000.

Speaking of Berkley, Veteran Administration Southern Nevada Healthcare System Director John Bright is being questioned by the House Ethics Committee investigating her.  The committee is looking into whether she used her position to help her family’s financial interests.

Investigators say Berkley’s husband, Dr. Larry Lehrner’s Kidney Specialists of Southern Nevada was paid nearly $1.4 million for 569 VA dialysis patient visits from 2008 through August 30th of this year.

As Berkley undergoes scrutiny, Governor Brian Sandoval is backing efforts for a federal law to regulate online poker, saying Internet gambling goes beyond what individual states can regulate, which is a split from the National Governors Association. Sandoval said the legislation is worth considering as Nevada would stand to gain if Internet poker is legalized.

And Finally, Washoe County District Attorney Richard Gammick is urged voters to join him in casting a ballot for state Senator Greg Brower, but there’s a problem: He doesn’t live in Brower’s district.

Gammick says he made a mistake and didn’t realize it until he got his sample ballot. He says he thought he was in Brower’s district after redistricting.

Gut-check, smell test, whatever you want to call it — is that time when you sense something is wrong. This is one of those times.

An aquaintance was standing in line for early voting a day ago, when she over heard a woman, also standing in the same line, tell someone else that all she had is her California driver’s license.  Unfortunately for the woman with the ID issue, she was voting in Nevada.

“I watch as she tells the woman she has no proof of being a NV resident,” she said.

“Are you kidding me?” I responded, “You should have challenged he on the spot. In Nevada you have that right!”

“My husband is at the Washoe County Registrar of Voter’s office right this second,” she returned.

“Good,” thought.

Well, her husband learned poll workers in Nevada cannot legally ask for identification and a California driver’s license is an acceptable form of ID, since in order to register in the first place a person has to have a phone or power bill, if they don’t have a Nevada driver’s license. Furthermore, he found out a state ID acts as a government issued ID and no ID’s required if you can confirm the information the poll worker can legally ask, which is your address and phone number, thus proving who you say you are.

For me and many others, like my friend, this smells to high-heaven and is a punch to our gut as we realize jus’ how easy it is to stuff the ballot box in Nevada and learn the voter-challenge law is worthless.