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…had he actually done it.
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screech (yes, my nickname is “Rosebud”) -owl
My dad killed the Green Dahlia.
He’s color blind.
I’m missing something here. 18 months before you were born? Wouldn’t that just make him someone your mom knew, instead of your father?
Oh, and my Dad was eleven , but if he would have lived in LA, I wouldn’t have put it past him at that age. He was always getting into one type of trouble or another.
Well, my dad was old enough, and he was in the Los Angeles area (Glendale) and he probably could have taken the streetcar downtown to do the deed. But he was probably too busy working and going to Glendale College around that time, so I don’t think he would have been able to fit it into his schedule. 
My mom, however, lived in downtown LA at the time. I’ll have to ask her more about what she was doing in 1947 . . .
(Seriously, an old friend from church was a policeman for the LAPD and would take pictures of crime scenes. I believe that Black Dahlia case was one he worked on. He doesn’t like talking about that job so we don’t grill him for details.)
Ha ha! Excellent.
OMG! :eek: My Grandfather was named George!
That means my Grandmother must have killed the Black Dahlia! (She never let my Grandfather do anything himself.)
“Oh, for chrissakes, George, use a saw, not an ax—here, outta the way, let me do it.”
My dad was Son of Sam.
Beat that!
My Daddy was the one-armed man. Despite him having two arms.
My father was behind the grassy knoll on November 22nd, 1963. He was hunting for wheels of hansom cabs, and fired off a round to raise them. We don’t talk about it.
My dad had nothing to do with the Black Dahlia, but he did slap the bejesus out of a woman named Rose in Egypt because he didn’t like her purple dress.
Is anyone else reading this thread thinking about the end to Spartacus?
I love you, Spartacus?
It wasn’t my daddy because…you see…the dingo ate my daddy.
Hm. My daddy killed the Black Dahlia. He lived in West Los Angeles, a mere hop, skip and a jump from Leimert Park. (Seriously. He lived near Fairfax and Pico.) His name isn’t George, but it could’ve been an alias.
Oh, wait. He was three when Beth Short was killed. Scratch that idea.
And I’m so ashamed. I actually bought Hodel’s book. Anyone want it, holler.
Robin
Oh, so you knew my Grandmother!
BTW, I am Spartacus.
So you’re the Grandson of Sam? I dunno, it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
The Black Dahlia"? I dunno. My Dad always said “Some Puerto Rican Guy” did it.
No, the dingo ate Spartacus.
My dad killed Nessie.