Note: This is an encore post from 2006.
December 14, 1907
Los Angeles
The madman who calls himself the superintendent of the Los Angeles schools has touched off an absolute firestorm of anger by ordering teachers not to mention Christ during Christmas pageants or other festivities.
“The town was agog with it yesterday,” The Times said. “It was the talk among both ministers and laymen of the 200 and more churches in Los Angeles.”
This is one of those haunting stories from The Times. I wonder what happened to Kenny Ross and whether he ever became a writer. Continue reading
December 13, 1941: The Daily Mirror HQ was thrilled to see a brief appearance by Jimmie Fidler in “Garden of the Moon,” so here he is, in case you ever wondered what he looked like.
On the jump:
Times artist Charles Owens provides a map of the latest war news.
President Roosevelt announces that the military will not release casualty lists to avoid giving information to the enemy. Military personnel will notify families directly, and the news media will only be given totals of casualties. Roosevelt also asked the news media to stop compiling its own casualty lists from death notices submitted by relatives.
Frank Capra, a math instructor in the military during World War I, is expecting to be called for the Army Signal Corps.
Chief County Jailer William J. Bright says authorities have arrested so many suspected enemy Japanese (345), Germans (82) and Italians (14) that the county jails are being forced to move other inmates to prison farms, The Times says.
Jose Ferrer and Ruth Wilk announce the withdrawal of the Broadway play “The Admiral Had a Wife,” Lowell Barrington’s comedy about Pearl Harbor. The play dealt with a socially ambitious Navy wife who wants to advance the rank of her husband, a lieutenant. The play got mixed reviews in Baltimore and was revised after the war as “Commander’s Wife.”
Jimmie Fidler says that Hugh Herbert is tired of his eight-year stint of saying “woo-woo” after an unplanned moment caught on camera while shooting the 1933 film “Diplomaniacs.”
And, “the better local niteries are frowning on femmes who step out in slacks,” Fidler says.
Note: This is an encore post from 2006.
Los Angeles
December 13, 1907
What do we find in music criticism of another era? Let’s take a good look.
“ ‘The Messiah’ was presented at Shrine Auditorium by the Apollo Club last night, and the production, which moved expeditiously, apparently gave pleasure to an audience numbering nearly 3,000 persons.”
This week, as indignant citizens protested to the State Public Utilities Commission that they were being billed for phone calls they didn’t make, a young woman recently married, asked to have phone service started in the apartment where she and her husband have just moved.
She was told a $20 deposit and a $4 turn on fee were required. Not having the money she went to her mother for help.
The mother filled an application guaranteeing payment but was told she was disqualified to act as surety because her record showed she had been late six times in the last year in paying her own bill. She pointed out that on several of these occasions the phone company had demanded payment before the bill was due. Other times, she admitted, she had been late in paying. Continue reading
“Dear Paul–
“Re your column in which you became confused over the use of the words ‘lay’ and ‘lie’ and settled by saying ‘get prone.’
” ‘Lie’ would have been the correct word. Intransitive, you know.
“But it would be difficult to ‘get prone and read my column’ — as you suggested.
“Perhaps you meant ‘supine.’
“Look them up in the dictionary. Undoubtedly some friend of yours has one.
“But do not worry about split infinitives. Continue reading
Note: This is a repost from 2013.
Glen Creason’s book on maps of Los Angeles shows the many ways people have viewed the city over the years. I interviewed him for The Times in 2012 and fortunately for all concerned, the column was seen by a real estate agent who was getting ready to sell off a rather curious home in Mt. Washington that had been owned by a man who had a mania for maps. The result was the discovery of the “map house,” one of the great (and strange) stories of Los Angeles.
“Los Angeles in Maps,” published in 2010, is in many local bookstores and available online.
Update (2021): “Los Angeles in Maps” is increasingly difficult to find. You may have to try Amazon or Bookfinder.
Note: This is an encore post from 2006.
December 12, 1907
Los Angeles via the Associated Press
Goldfield, Nev.—J. Holtman Buck, editor of the Western Nevada Miner in Mina, Nev., shot Francis L. Burton to death during a fight over a scathing editorial in which Buck said Burton should be run out of town.
Burton had a long record of fraud and was paroled from a Montana penitentiary after he conned the warden out of $7,000 in one of his investment schemes. In another case, Burton disguised himself and robbed his own bank, and he barely escaped being lynched after bankrupting an entire mining camp in a fraudulent scheme.
Note: This is an encore post from 2006.
December 12, 1907
Los Angeles
In the gritty, industrial heart of the 8th Ward at Holly Street and St. John, officials are planning a large recreation facility “as an oasis in the wilderness,” The Times says. The building, designed by the firm of Hunt, Eager and Burns, will offer an alternative to “those who have no pleasure grounds but the streets and the saloons,” The Times says, noting: “Happy people are nearly always good people.”
As Ida Gutierrez, 44, a restaurant cashier, stepped from a 4 bus at Melrose and La Brea last Aug. 26 a woman who got off at the same time grabbed at a half-open package and excitedly accused her of stealing “her” gray sweater, the sleeves of which were hanging loose.
Miss Gutierrez, flabbergasted at the outburst, said this was not true, she had just bought the two sweaters in the package at a Wilshire Blvd. store. She thought the woman was mentally disturbed.
The woman persisted and they went into a service station and called police. Miss Gutierrez assumed they would clear the matter.
Two officers responded. One talked to Miss Gutierrez, the other to the woman. Apparently they reached no conclusion and the two were taken to Hollywood station. After questioning, they were released. The sweaters were held as evidence. Continue reading
I have never met a man who dropped $4,000 pitching pennies, but I guess it’s possible. Because last week I talked to one who estimates that he has lost, in the past four years, nearly $20,000 — on nickel pinball machines . . .
from this column, Nov. 12, 1957
Today I met a man who lost even more. He lost a son.
The man’s name is George Bergeman. He lives in Montebello, where he owns a glass and mirror company.
The week end before last, he and his wife went out of town. When they returned a week ago Monday, they found a note from their son, George Jr., 24, a student at East Los Angeles Junior College, indicating that the boy had left home. Continue reading
Note: This is a repost from 2013.
You might have to hunt a bit for Don Normark’s 1999 book “Chavez Ravine, 1949,” but your search will be rewarded. The photos are terrific and the residents’ recollections make the book even better. Copies can be found via bookfinder.com.
ps. I should note that a recent story by longtime Los Angeles Times writer Louis Sahagun erred in stating:
March 11, 2006
By Louis Sahagun,
Times Staff Writer
Bettie Page was plunging into the day’s work: autographing pinups of herself in various Naughty Girl personas, with kitschy bangs, high heels, mesh hose and tasseled underwear.
Nurse Bettie. Jester Bettie. Substitute Teacher Bettie. Maid Bettie. Voodoo Bettie. Cowgirl Bettie. Jungle Bettie. Wild Orchid Bettie. Banned in Boston Bettie. Crackers in Bed Bettie.
The task ahead was arduous given her many ailments, including diabetes and stabbing pains in her back, legs and hands.
But the 82-year-old Page — a taboo-breaker who helped usher in the sexual revolution of the 1960s — is not a quitter. Continue reading
Dec. 11, 1957
Los Angeles
Note: This is an encore post from 2007.
This began as a story about a dog and ended in death.
On Dec. 10, 1957, a gunman shot a German shepherd named Baron that had been ordered to attack as the robber was leaving a liquor store at 15023 Leffingwell Road, La Mirada.
The Times said that clerk Robert M. Nelson had taken precautions after a previous holdup by concealing a .45-caliber pistol under the counter and teaching his dog to attack. When the robber was backing out of the store, Nelson dropped behind the counter, fired at the gunman and ordered: “Get him, Baron!” Continue reading
December 10, 1938: I defy anyone to insist that the past was “a kinder, simpler time” after reading this page. But don’t take my word for it — see for yourself. Continue reading
Who Wants to Kick Little Butch Harris?Note: Butch Harris joined Thunderbird Pack 298 in 1959, but only after all the white parents withdrew their children.
This is a personal column. Personal to a group of young mothers who probably consider themselves pretty typical American parents.
They’re the mothers of 8, 9 and 10-year-old Cub Scouts in Thunderbird Pack No. 298, here in town.
The rest of you can read on, if you’d like. Or you can turn to the comics. Unfortunately, they might be a little more enlightening than what I’m going to talk about.
Besides, what I want to say, I want to say directly to the small group of mothers whose sons are in Pack No. 298.
The subject, ladies, in case you haven’t guessed, is a 9-year-old named Butch Harris.
| You know him. If not personally — at least for the color of his skin.Butch Harris is a Negro.He’s a handsome little kid, well-dressed, well-mannered and smart.
He’s the kid you ganged up on not long ago. Remember? The hushed meetings after he tried to accept your invitation to ALL boys at 87th Street School to join your Cub Scout pack? That was more than two months ago. And Butch took you a little too literally. He thought you meant — like it says in the Scout pamphlet I have on my desk: “It makes no difference whether he’s a fat boy, a skinny boy, a tall boy or a short boy — no difference where his mom and dad were born, what their family bank account might be, or what church they attend. “Nor does it make any difference what color skin a boy might have — Scouting’s hand of fellowship is extended to him.” That’s what the pamphlet says. And I guess Butch’s mom and dad took it literally, too. They told Butch — who’s their only child, incidentally — that, yes, they’d get him a uniform. It would be alright if he joined. It would be a good, wholesome experience for him. Now, before I remind you of exactly what you did to freeze Butch out, I’m going to tell you what he’s been doing lately. He’s been reading the manuals, just like your kids have. With no prompting, he can recite: “On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.” He knows a few of the Scout knots, too. He begged his mother to buy him a book that explains them. But what Butch doesn’t know is that you don’t want him. He’s not aware of your original tactic to just ignore his application. Nor does he know that finally, after Butch’s mom begged you repeatedly for a yes or no answer you met and took another vote. And then sent a spokesman to the Harris residence in your neighborhood to explain to his parents that Pack No. 298 “just isn’t ready to integrate.” It’s Like This, Butch . . . These things Mrs. Harris has been afraid to tell her boy. As of yesterday, at least, she still hadn’t told him. Then, she admitted to me that she just plain didn’t know how. “Two days ago,” she told me, “I finally worked up the courage to ask him if any kid at school had ever called him ‘Nigger.’ I thought maybe I could lead into it that way. “But he answered, ‘No, Mom. Why would any kid say that?'” Mrs. Harris wondered if I could possibly help her explain to Butch why he’s not going to be a Cub Scout. I can’t. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know where to begin. But if one of you Pack No. 298 Den Mothers wants to volunteer. I guess Butch is going to have to be told by somebody. |
Note: This is a repost from 2013.
Whenever I’m asked about my favorite books on Los Angeles, my first recommendation is “Nuestro Pueblo,” a selection of features by Times artist Charles Owens and writer Joseph Seewerker that appeared in The Times. I went through all of them when the blog was at latimes.com,* so I won’t repeat them now, but if you’re a fan of Rediscovering Los Angeles, which was illustrated by Owens with commentary by Timothy Turner, you may enjoy “Nuestro Pueblo.” Unfortunately, Rediscovering Los Angeles was never published in book form and has languished in obscurity.
“Nuestro Pueblo” is long out of print and the prices have gone up since I started writing about it, with some dealers asking more than $100 for a copy. A patient shopper can still find a copy for less than $20, however. One of my favorite tools for finding out of print books is bookfinder.com, which shows wide price range on copies of “Nuestro Pueblo.”
And what are your gift recommendations for this holiday season?
*Note: many of the images didn’t make the leap to WordPress so I’ll be restoring them as time allows
Francois de Montfort, correspondent for Ici Paris, is in Hollywood having a look at the movie making. As he arrived on the set of “Strangers When We Meet” to interview Kim Novak the other day, he told publicist Paul Price he’d received a message from his paper suggesting he interview Caryl Chessman, who has become a international cause celebre. He wondered how to go about it.
It was suggested that he get clearance in Sacramento and he called the state Capitol. There he was instructed to call San Quentin direct.
He got Asst. Warden Achuff on the line, identified himself and said he’d like to interview Chessman. Continue reading
I take stories as they come. And yesterday’s came by phone.
“My name is Tony,” the caller told me. “I’m going to give you a story and you’re going to give me protection.”
“What kind of protection?” I asked.
“Not for me,” he snapped. “I’m big enough to take care of myself. It’s for my family. I don’t want anything to happen to them.
“Anyway, when I finish spilling to you I’m dead,” he added.
Then, to the accompaniment of a blaring juke box in the background, Tony whispered hoarsely into the mouthpiece that he was the man who shot Jack Whalen in Rondelli’s last week.
Reminder: Boxie and I will be doing a live “Ask Me Anything” on George Hodel and Steve Hodel on Tuesday, December 16, at 10 a.m. Pacific time on YouTube.
Can’t make the live session? Email me your questions and I’ll answer them! The video will be posted once the session ends so you can watch it later. Remember, this is ask me anything, so please remember to ask questions rather than make comments. Thanks!
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