Alan Burton



Synopsis: The "Terrorist" is a very naive American fellow. Some would call him stupid, or an amateur. When he joined the Apostles for Peace, he thought he was joining an anti-nuclear activist group. Little did he know that before it was over, he would accompany his new friends in a brazen attack on the U.S. Navy's West Coast nuclear storage facility. Suspense, spies, FBI and ATF agents, cops, shootouts, sex and murder, violence from the sky, and a trip into the Navy’s most-secret vaults – all go to make a page-turner of "Terrorist." Available from Infinity Publishing, or Amazon.com

THIS is what my brother Alan always wanted to do...write books. Our parents said, "Hogwash, you can't make a living doing THAT." So Alan didn't write, he went into the Army in time for Korea. He didn't succeed in dying there, so he came back and went into the "family business", which was law inforcement. He went to Junior College, worked at the prison farm as a guard, married and had 4 kids.

He was a beat cop, a Vice cop, a regular pillar of the community. He went to church, he faithfully carried out his parents expectations. It wasn't easy, however. He wanted to write books! He joined the Rotary Club, this club and that organization and being that he was a cop, he missed a lot of family time. He didn't know his kids. They didn't know him. His wife didn't like it. He never discussed work with her, and after a while he didn't discuss anything with her. Have you ever watched Law and Order SVU? Or any of those really good cop shows? Alan was like that.

I remember him when I was little, and I was l i t t l e. Alan was over 6 foot! I came up to his belt buckle. He liked me, we played with each other. I only remember when he sat on our brother's bunk bed and told he he was going to show me a new card game (I guess we played a lot of cards). I waited.... and he spewed them out all over the floor below! And I had to get down to pick them all up! Yes, 52 Pickup. this brother's bedroom had a great sailing ship picture on the wall and one window had been crafted to resemble a port hole. I remember we had a real Morse code setup. We slow and painfully dotted and dashed notes to each other from one room to another. Alan and I played hide and seek, but I think I only ever hid in one place. In the cubby hole over the basement stairs. I remember I got his Erector Set when he was done with it. I was thrilled for years about this. We had Mr. Potato Head, but we used a potato for a base. I don't understand the appeal of today's plastic one.





Synopsis: Author Alan Burton assures his readers that "Duty! A cop’s story" is not an autobiography, but it was inspired by many actual events. "Duty!" traces the fictional career of Ben Sterling on the bumpy road through the ranks of deputy, sergeant and lieutenant. Can he be elected county sheriff? Will he even survive the election? This is the story about good cops and bad cops, written by someone who has been there. "Duty!" is available from 1stBooksLibrary.com (These synopis and book pictures are from The Writer's Gazette)

Click HERE

Alan Burton's first book was published while he was a student at the FBI National Academy. His 18th published book (and third novel) was launched in 2003. He served 25 years in a county sheriff’s office, rising to the rank of captain; the same rank his father held before him. Alan Burton has served as Editor and Editor Emeritus of 9-1-1 Magazine, and publisher of Dispatch Monthly, now DispatchMonthly.com He wrote a regular column for the IMSA Journal, while working on subsequent novels.

Alan writes: A lot of readers are young enough that they can't recall when we didn't have 911. I'm old. I was an adult when we still had telephone operators that answered when you picked up the phone. Our home telephone number was 287-M, which meant we had a party line shared with someone whose number was 287-J. We didn't hear their phone ring, and they didn't hear ours; but if we were using the phone and they picked it up, they could hear our conversation.

In those days, if you had an emergency, you just picked up the telephone and the Operator was there. At least through the 1950s, the operator was probably in your town. The operator knew you and your family, and they also knew the town doctor and where he was (it was always a "he" in those days). They knew the police chief and fire chief and could locate any of them in a moment. They knew what bars they hung out at and who their girl friends were. It's funny, but we had Caller ID in those days and we didn't even know it. FOR THE REST OF THIS STORY CLICK HERE

Alan used to send me a copy of Dispatch Magazine every month. After I read it to glean news of him, I took it to one of the local police stations. I did this for several, maybe 3 years. I was hoping someone would subscribe, and finally, a police station at some distance from my usual rounds, subscribed. It wasn't long after that that Alan passed the magazine on to those who run it now.A Beautiful Story in 911Dispatch Magazine





On the ferry to Benicia, just across the San Jauquin(I don't know how to spell it, only say it)river from Martinez, Ca. Alan is looking at me, he did that alot in many old pictures. Alan must have been 16. The other young man is Ken, our older brother and my mother Viola. Dad was taking the picture.


Ken died from ALS, commonly called Lou Gerhigs Disease about 6 years ago, 2000.


Now Alan is almost gone from the very same thing. It is hereditary so all are worried about his 5 kids. Here is the latest news from his Daughter Deborah:


"Dad is close to the end. He is heavily medicated right now to keep the spasms calm. He drifts in and out, he is out right now. Putting it into context for you, it is a beautiful fall day, clear after yesterday's heavy rains. When I arrived here at noon, he tried to say a couple of words, but his mouth no longer really works. I also gave him permission to let go. He asked what would happen if he refused and I said, well, that we might have to elect a Democrat or kick him in the butt or something. He smiled."



Subject: Re: Sliding down the milkshake
From: "Canary Burton"
Date: Wed, October 17, 2007 5:13 pm
To: "Alan Burton" <911burton@comcast.net>
Priority: Normal


For the service:

I loved him since I was little. I practiced "falling in love" using a picture of him our Dad had in his livingroom in Walnut Creek. I was 13 and awkward.

I lost sight of him during my 20's and long about the time he was divorced by Madelene, long about the time he found out, even though you "follow all the rules" things don't always turn out right. That's when I got a letter. I was 35, Alan was always 8 years older than me. From that point on, both of us being looooong letter writers, we wrote and wrote and argued and laughed and commiserated and traded information, sent packages and generally solved momentous problems.

That never stopped until he was slipping away. Even then he argued, said he didn't want to go. But we all go in spite of our brilliance, talent, good looks, and good character. We go. I wish we could celebrate it like we do a birth. Then, we CAME from go, whatever that is. I hope he has some fun.



Alan's daughter just phoned to say he'd gone midafternoon October 17, 2007. He just finished his last book, "The Reluctant Mormon." (working title)