The old turn-of-the-century house was built without fire-blocks and the gluttonous flames raced up the studs between the walls devouring the old dry wood on its way to the second floor.
Pop...pop...pop went several more windows exploding from the intense heat as the occupants on the second floor found themselves trapped inside - as the hot flames filled the grand staircase (their only means of escape).
Meanwhile one of the officers from the protective detail (stationed at the Lennon house on the opposite corner) searched between houses thinking that it was the crazed-lunatic, Chet Young or that it might have been Charles Manson who was responsible for the Molotov cocktail that had been thrown through the large front window as a distraction to get at the Lennons. The popping sounds from the exploding windows sounded just like multiple gun shots. The crackling blaze, sounds of gunfire and the heavy dark smoke was like a scene from the war zone in Vietnam.
As it turns out, the officer who had been tackled on the front lawn of the Tripp's house next door to the blazing inferno was not tangled up with a crazed assassin or with one of Charles Manson murderous minions...as he had thought at the time. No, it wasn't a madman at all. Instead it turned out to be my neighbor Bobby Tripp who had just returned from Vietnam and was experiencing a flashback.
Seeing the scuffle from inside the house, Mrs. Tripp frantically ran out in her nightgown and began yelling at the officer, "Don't hurt my son...don't hurt my son, he just got back from Vietnam." Thankfully, the officer didn't let his wounded pride get the better of him. Heeding the frantic pleas of Bobby's mom, both of them stood to their feet, respectfully dusted each other off and turned their attention to the fire!
In his skivvies and nothing else, Don Blaser was already on the scene with my Dad along with a couple of my draft-card-burning brothers who were building a human ladder out in front, up the corner of the crude balcony that been built a year earlier by numerous "Frat house members" while on an intoxicated binge.
Chewbacca had climbed onto the balcony contraption and shoved his waffle-stomper through the window and began helping the trapped "fraternity members" out of the window and onto the second story overhang as my brothers lowered members one by one down the human chain of Dahlins, Blasers and Tripps.
I don't know if you have been paying close attention, but every time I talk about the "Frat house" I always put it in quotes. It totally looked legit from the outside with its Greek letters ΦΒΧ that had been fixed to the exterior of the old house (seen above in the picture), but I'm pretty sure they didn't even know what those letters meant in Greek. The whole thing was sham - a cover for a party house for guys who couldn't make it into a real college Fraternity - an animal house which was the brain-child of Cameron Grant.
Can't fool O' Markie D - no siree!
The Venice Fire department set up mobile command unit at the Tripp's house next door and Myrtle seemed a little too happy have all those young men in uniform running through her house. She was more than happy to oblige the terrible - awful - no good interruption.Anyway, the Lennons on the other corner were safe, but still on protective lock-down. The fireman took some time protecting the nearby properties of 900 Harding Avenue and let the majestic old lady burn to the ground. (Oh by the way - its not like the Lennon Sisters were always standing outside the Lennon house posing for pictures or anything like that - but I think you get the idea)
This is where I come in. This is where I began my investigation of possible arson suspect. I don't think it was Dracula or Frankenstein or anything as insidious as that but it's interesting that just about everyone on the Harding Avenue including the Nuns in the convent on Coeur d'Alene had a good motive to burn the place down.
My list will follow... But kids please be careful with matches - and I'm specifically talking to you Tommy Blaser.
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