DISPATCH OPERATORS HOLD LINE : CREW ANSWERS CALLS, COORDINATES RESCUES.

Byline: Jesse Hiestand Daily News Staff Writer

Simi Valley police dispatcher Lynn Freeman was about to hang up on what she thought was a crank call to the 911 emergency line when she heard the slightest of sounds.

``I said, if you're there, tap something on the phone,'' she recalled. Seconds later, a series of clicks came over the line like Morse code.

She sent an emergency crew to the caller's home, but the situation remained a mystery back at the dispatch center. Why couldn't the person speak? Were they impaired? Gagged? Being held hostage?

``It turned out to be a woman with a bagel lodged in her throat,'' Freeman said.

Firefighters saved the woman that day seven years ago and Freeman, now a dispatch supervisor with 20 years' experience, tucked another tale into her chest of war stories.

Dispatchers at police and fire agencies throughout Ventura County each have their own sad, odd or sometimes funny stories to tell.

A number of them gathered recently in Ventura for the Dispatcher of the Year appreciation banquet, an annual event sponsored by the Ventura County Chapter of the International Footprinters Association.

Among those honored was Russell ``Sandy'' Irwin, who retired last month after 32 years with the Ventura County Sheriff's Department.

Irwin says technology has brought about the biggest changes in dispatching over the years.

Back in 1965, dispatchers kept handwritten logs and had to get on the radio to Sacramento when a deputy wanted to check a vehicle's registration, he said. The information usually took a half-hour to obtain.

``It wasn't the immediacy you have now,'' said Irwin, a 62-year-old Santa Paula resident. ``We had a tabletop Motorola radio and a different radio for each frequency.''

These days, dispatchers use computer-aided phones and radios, but one thing that never changes is the pressure, he said.

``There's a lot of stress when the phones get busy and there's three or four people to answer 20 or more lines,'' he said. ``Obviously, you can't freak out.''

Dispatchers deal with the stress by sharing snippets of calls with each other during lulls in their 12-hours shifts, Freeman said.

The clipped nature of these conversations is as much a side effect of their job, with its heavy reliance on jargon and codes, as a necessity - the next emergency call is never far off and it's back to work.

Kathy Mooney, a Simi police dispatcher for 16 years, remembers a few lighthearted moments, like the time a few years back when a youngster summoned police because he was home alone and scared.

Mooney kept the boy on the line until an officer arrived at his front door. When he knocked, the little voice inside asked, ``What's the secret word?''

`` `I don't know buddy, but we're going to be here a long time if you don't open the door,' '' Mooney said the officer responded.

The boy, it turns out, forgot that his mom was taking his brother to school.

Many times, dispatchers are the first ones to hear about the latest tragedy or emergency, but they seldom learn the outcome, Mooney said. ``We don't get to follow things through,'' she said.

Sometimes the details are almost too much to bear.

One Christmas Eve a decade ago, an auto accident claimed the lives of a family of three, the force of the crash throwing their gifts across the rain-slick highway, Freeman said.

Then rescuers found a badge in the driver's wallet. He was a police officer from another department.

``We stayed with each other for a while,'' Freeman said, describing how the dispatch crew dealt with the accident that night. ``We didn't want to go home and do the whole presents thing with our families.''

Perhaps the most tragic day for the Simi Valley Police Department and its dispatchers was August 4, 1995, the day Officer Michael F. Clark was gunned down.

Dispatcher Mike Homsy was working the radio that day, with Mooney handling the telephones.

For a few moments, it was unclear who had been shot, the suspect or officer, she said.

``It was just that dreadful feeling,'' Mooney said.

When word came of Clark's death, the only Simi officer ever to be killed in the line of duty, Mooney said a ``horrible, helpless'' feeling pervaded the dispatch center and police station. ``It was devastating.''

Tragedy is just one thing dispatchers learn to live with. They also learn to rely on their intuition.

When a man called 911 a few years ago and said, ``I think my wife's dead,'' Mooney became suspicious by the unnaturally calm tone of his voice and his shallow breathing.

``I asked, did you kill her? and he said `Yes,' '' she said.

Mooney, who now supervises the department's 13 dispatchers, says she sometimes wishes she could trade the administrative duties and paperwork for a shift back with the phones and radio.

``I miss it terrible,'' she said. ``No two days are the same. All the corny things they say about it are true. It's very rewarding.''

VENTURA COUNTY DISPATCH HONOREES

The following dispatchers were recently honored at the 1997 Dispatcher of the Year appreciation banquet sponsored by the Ventura County Chapter of the International Footprint Association:

Jennifer Wilson, California Highway Patrol 

Donna Carter, Oxnard Police-Fire Department

Terry Lysaker, Santa Paula Police-Fire Department

Charles Carranza, Ventura County Fire Department 

Russell ``Sandy'' Irwin, Ventura County Sheriff's Department

Jennette Garden, Ventura Police-Fire Department

CAPTION(S):

2 Photos, Box

Photo: (1--color in SIMI edition only) Kathy Mooney, left, and Jean Maroshek work the phones and radios at Simi Valley police dispatch.

(2--color in SIMI edition only) A high-tech array keeps officers in the field and at dispatch informed.

Joe Binoya/Special to the Daily News

Box: VENTURA COUNTY DISPATCH HONOREES (see text)