July 3, 1957

 We have on our hands today a taxpayer in that happy frame of mind known as irate.

He is enraged because he finds himself helpless at fighting City Hall.

Half a dozen years ago he bought a home in the Hollywood Hills. It
wasn’t new, but he and his wife envisioned that it could be made into
their dream home.

They put every cent they could spare into modernizing it and worked
like slaves repainting, landscaping and putting in brick walks. They
even went to night school to learn of cabinetwork. It was a labor of
love.

About a year ago, a bulldozer appeared nearby and carved out a ledge on
the hillside and soon there was erected a house sometimes referred to
as "chicken coop modern." It was promptly sold.

A few months later, the same builder put up another and sold it and now a third is under construction.

The indignant homeowner and his neighbors complained about these cheap,
unorthodox homes. They were particularly irked because the builder
seemed able to get away with certain techniques in construction that
they had not.

They learned that the only restriction on building in the section was
that homes must cost not less than $5,000. The ordinance so stating
went into effect in 1923. The law is ridiculously outdated, of course.
You can hardly build a garage today for $5,000.

Here’s the angry homeowner’s plaint:

"A man who buys a home to live in is at the mercy of these fast-buck
guys who grab up vacant land and build these chicken-coop homes on
speculation. It’s beside the point that such houses cause the
neighborhood to decline and run down property values. What is needed
down at City Hall is a new conception of home ownership. It’s about
time they rewrote the property and building laws to protect the
homeowner. But he’s only the poor chump who gets nicked for every tax
raise. Nothing is ever done for him. He’s stuck."

Is that an echo I hear?

THE BEAUTY contest
season is upon us. Everywhere you turn, it seems, smiling girls in
unswimmable swimsuits are parading. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not
knocking it.

Once such event was held in a mountain resort a few days ago and as a
bevy–I think the word is bevy–swished past the judges a boy of 5 was
overheard by Lee Austin inquiring in an awed voice:

"Mommy, are you going to do this too?"

THE FLOWERS will
continue to bloom in the spring, the birds will continue to be on the
wing, but things will not be the same up on Mulholland Drive, for lo
these many years a hallowed rendezvous for neckers.

About a week ago, advises Carol Sugar in horror, they put a traffic signal at Mulholland and Beverly Glen Boulevard.
Imagine young couples trying to whisper sweet nothings in the moonlight
as a traffic light winks green, yellow and red at them. It could give
them a complex as if Big Brother were watching.

TRAFFIC casualties are hardly news any more, they’re taking for granted–except by the victims and their loved ones.

William DeLair took his wife to an Eastern Star meeting a few nights ago at Masonic Hall on Daly Street.
He was waiting outside for the meeting to end so he could take her home
when he was struck by an auto and killed. In this case the tragedy was
deeper than most. Mrs. DeLair is blind.