“Somebody Is Always Taking the Joy Out of Life,” by Clare Briggs.
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| Jan. 20, 1920: U.S. revenue officers pour 35,000 gallons of wine – the entire stock of the North Cucamonga Winery — into the sewer to enforce new Prohibition laws. The Times notes that certain “thirsty” African Americans, Mexicans and newsboys dipped into the street to get some. |
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Men on horseback watch Glenn Curtiss take off.
A deputy on horseback acts as a judge on the race course, making sure that fliers go around one of the pylons.
Aviation Week inspired several topical ads, including one for pianos, above, and for film developing, below.
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| Jan. 20, 1910: Riding as a passenger in Louis Paulhan's plane, Army Lt. Paul Beck drops bags of sand in an attempt to hit a paper target on the ground. "It was the raising of the curtain on the war drama of tomorrow," The Times says.
Beck and Paulhan made three passes, but it's a bit difficult to interpret the results. "Beck threw bomb [illegible, possibly 68] feet over the square; second lap, Paulhan threw bomb 115 feet over square; third lap, Beck threw bomb on a line with square. " |
| This postcard showing the Santa Fe railroad station, which was superseded by the opening of Union Station in 1939, has been listed on EBay. Bidding starts at $4.95. |
Mass Hysteria
In any event, the rumor, embellished by impressionable and imaginative youngsters, spread like a bushfire in a wind. Soon the story was that the report had been heard on the radio. As the morning progressed, mounting terror gripped the pupils. TEACHERS, confronted with mass hysteria, said it was nonsense and tried to reason with the children. They pointed out it was necessary to evaluate what they heard, not to accept things blindly. Besides, they said, it wasn't likely the Russians would announce it in advance if they were about to bomb us.
As the clocks reached 11:59 a.m. many were prepared to die. When 12:01 p.m. came they realized they'd been victims of their ridiculous fears. But hours later, when they arrived home, many pupils were still shaken. A parent, learning of the hysteria from his daughter, recalled an exercise in transmission from his Army basic training. Twenty or 30 soldiers were lined up and an officer whispered a message to the man next in line. By the time the message reached the soldier at the other end it had little resemblance to the original. This parent finds it frightening that normal youngsters can so easily be reduced to near panic. ::
"Isn't that something!" one exclaimed. "It sure is," the other says, "especially when you think it was all carved out of wood!" Wade, thinking of the years of effort and skill required to dig up the skeleton from La Brea pits and to assemble the fossil bones, was tempted to comment, "And out of one piece, too!" But he didn't. ::
THERE'S A first time for everything and yesterday I had my first taste of haggis, Scotland's national dish. It isn't as awful as you might have heard. Tastes something like hot chopped liver. The ingredients include sheep's "heart, liver, lungs, etc." called the "pluck," which, minced, seasoned and mixed with oatmeal comes encased in sheep's stomach, called the "paunch." I'll confess that "etc." bothered me a little. The haggis was served by Laurie Priesack, head of the British Travel Association on S Hill St., to commemorate the 201st anniversary Jan. 25 of the birthday of Robert Burns, who once wrote an "Ode to a Haggis." Mr.Priesack , a distinguished looking gentleman, wore kilts and poured Scotch whiskey without which, he assured the press, no haggis is complete. A hardy bunch, those Scots. ::
STALEMATE ::
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Son's Not Quite Like Dad, but He's a Todd
His name was Mike Todd, with a Jr. tacked on the end, and he came in on tiptoes like he was afraid everybody was asleep and shouldn't be disturbed. He had the trademark cigar. He studied it and fingered it and inhaled it with taught dexterity. With it, he was a mimic unaware. His suit — navy blue — was once his father's, too. But behind the cigar and under the suit there was no more showman Mike Todd to be found. If there had been — you can be sure — his arrival would have been heralded. It would have been recorded on Page 1. With a picture. But Mike Todd Jr. has neither the drive nor the desire to be news. And you get the feeling that he's annoyed by any attempts to draw a comparison.
"The cigars," he said, "are as close as our personalities coincide. When I was a kid, Dad used to tell me that smoking cigarettes looked silly. I never smoked cigarettes. I've been smoking cigars since I was 21." Mike Todd Jr. is 30 years old. Six years ago, he married, literally, the girl next door — the daughter of a successful building contractor. The Todd Jrs. have three children. "We lead a completely asocial life," he said. "We never go out at all. Maybe, four or five times a year. That's it." That wasn't the way it was with his father. "No," Mike agreed, "he liked being with people. I'm just not so crazy about it. I get nervous." But the son of Mike Todd made it clear that personality differences weren't synonymous with personality clashes. "I hope that I can be half the father to my kids that he was to me," he continued. "He never preached to me. There was nothing heavy-handed. Getting guidance from him was fun. "He never tried to cut out any career for me. He let me decide." Mike Jr.'s choice was to follow his father. He worked with him until the plane crash in March of 1958 took Todd's life. The he continued on alone. His first production, "Scent of Mystery," premieres here next Monday. "With my father, his work was his life. Everything he did was centered around his work. He was in love with it. "It's not that way with me. It's not my life. I do as little work as possible. At home, in New York, I get to my office at 10:30 and usually I'm through by six. "We've got five fireplaces in our house and I like to sit in front of them. We burn two cords of wood a year." "My father and I," he continued, "were more like brothers. I was the conservative one. In that respect, sometimes he was almost the youngster brother." He remembered his father — a man with a reputation for his ups and downs — as a man without a problem in the world. "I never went wanting," he said. "I guess that he made and lost a million more than once, but I never knew if he had $2,000,000 in the bank or if he owed $2,000,000. He recalled that his father was president of a bricklayers college at the age of 16. "He used to tell me about that," Mike said, "and about how the college folded after one semester after none of his students could get jobs as bricklayers." Tales of a Gamboleer
Eventually, Mike Todd told his son about all the wild gambles he took in business. "Money," he said, "was no objective in Dad's life. He had a fantastic imagination. When he got an idea that he liked, he'd sink everything into it." "But you?" I asked. "You don't operate that way. The son of Mike Todd shrugged. "Everything I've got is tied up in 'Scent of Mystery.' It's a fun picture. The people will love it. Smell-O-Vision, Smells piped right into their seats. Thirty-three of them." His smile was one I'd seen before. "Thirty-three," he repeated. "Count 'em." There might be a sequel to the Mike Todd story, after all. |
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| Jan. 19, 1957: Hedda Hopper writes that Elvis Presley has "taken the entire top floor of the Knickerbocker Hotel to house himself and his pals he brought with him from Tennessee. I asked if there were any girls along. 'No — it's an all-stag affair.' " Presley was evidently working on “Loving You.” |
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Donald Williams testifies about a murder-for-hire plot in the Finch killing.
Sen. Hubert Humphrey (D-Minn.) challenges Vice President Nixon to a series of debates with potential Democratic candidates.
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| Jan. 19, 1960: A DC-3 carrying the Lakers from St. Louis to Minneapolis makes an emergency landing in a snow-covered cornfield near Carroll, Iowa. Elgin Baylor says it’s a miracle the plane landed safely. |
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| Jan. 19, 1920: “When it was announced that Mr. Christie Miller had consigned a portion of his collection of early English literature to Sotheby's in London for sale at public vendue, the whole book-collecting fraternity pricked up its ears, and Messers. [Henry] Huntington and [H.C.] Folger, separately and severally, began to whet an ax bibliomane for the other.” |
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"In his eagerness to get a view of one of the flying machines at Aviation Field, Charles Arnesavage leaned too far out of the rear of one of the Pacific Electric flyers on the way to the field and, overbalancing, aviated to a trestle which crosses a slough on the Dominguez ranch."
From the ox team to the aeroplane is a tableaux to be presented to the spectators at 2 o'clock Thursday afternoon, the closing day of the Aviation Meet, by the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Assn.'s Aviation Committee, which has so brilliantly pulled off the meet — one of the greatest strokes ever made for Los Angeles by any group of men.
First an ox team will be brought on the field and be given its station before the stands. The burros are to be driven out with their packs. These will be followed by a team of horses, then bicycles, motorcycles, automobiles, balloons, dirigibles and aeroplanes. |
| Jan. 19, 1910: Louis Paulhan sets a distance record by flying to Santa Anita and back. "Paulhan's flight to Baldwin's ranch and back was such a flight as one has in dreams — over cities and peaceful valleys and into flaming clouds and facing, at last, into distance." The Times says. |
This trench coat from Oviatt’s has been listed on EBay. Items from Oviatt’s, a Los Angeles luxury clothing store for men that closed years ago, rarely show up on EBay. Bidding starts at $199.95. As with all items on EBay, a prospective buyer should investigate the vendor and the item thoroughly before submitting a bid. |
Stamp Craze
The Green Stamp people who have more or less controlled the situation for years now find it expedient to solidify their position to repel the invading blue, gold and other people who are busily establishing footholds in competing stores. As a result, many small store owners who have gotten along very well without stamps now realize they'll have to get in the game if they're to compete. Sitting back enjoying the conflict are hordes of housewives feverishly pasting all sorts of stamps in all sorts of books, dreaming wonderful dreams of premiums. The way they see it, you can't beat something for nothing.
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JUST PAST THE MELROSE AVE. off-ramp on Hollywood Freeway, outbound motorists are confronted with a sign stating, "Hollywood Next 6 Exits." A lady I know confides it is giving her a complex. Every time she passes it she gets a trapped feeling, as if the sign contained a veiled threat and if she doesn't get out of there before it's too late she's likely to turn into a bag of salt. ::
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In a talk on high-altitude escape procedures before 300 military and civilian physicians and scientists, he said, "If an emergency occurs in actual space flight, the crew should remain with the vehicle until it returns to the atmosphere." So don't go jumping out of those space vehicles until you get the word, kids. ::
THE WAY Ralph Story heard it while in New York recently, the phone rang in a paint store and a clerk answered "Boyer's paint store!" "Is Mr. Boyer there, please?" the caller asked. "I'm sorry, sir," the clerk replied in a low voice, "Mr. Boyer died only this morning." That caller gulped, paused, then asked plaintively, "Well, before he died, did he say anything about a can of green paint?" ::
THEN THERE WAS the call Kathy Russell, secretary at an office on N Virgil Ave., got a few days ago. "Is this NO. 0-0001?" a man asked, giving the firm's correct number. "Yes, it is," Kathy said. "Oh, I have the wrong number," the man said, and hung up. ::
AT RANDOM — The crowd of laborers who gather at Pico Blvd. and Rimpau, hoping to be picked up for a day's work, gets larger daily . . . Lloyd Brownfield's description of certain current hairstyles: calculated slovenliness . . . Paul Fierro tells of an actor in a TV western who broke the code of the west — he went into action against the gunslingers without first putting on his hat. |
Coates Views the Funny Side of Nixon
I'm no Criswell, but I can make a prediction or two, myself. And, the way I see it, if Richard Nixon wants a gag writer, it indicates that he fully expects his opponent for the Presidency to be that mirthful rib-tickler, Adlai Stevenson. So come with me now, to mid-September, 1960. The scene is the office of the Vice President in the Senate Office Building, Washington, D.C. Mr. Nixon is seated at his desk idly fingering a "For Prosperity And Hilarity Stick With Dick" campaign button. Two men in identical Sy Devore sports jackets are pacing either side of the room. They are the gag writers hired by the Republican National Committee to write pungent ad-libs for the candidate's use.
ARTY (stops pacing): Listen, Rich. You mind a little honest criticism? NIXON: Mind it? I welcome it. Any man who accepts the cloak of high government office would be remiss in his responsibility to . . . ARTY: Fine, Rich. Fine. NIXON: . . . his constituents. We, in government, are, after all, no more, in effect, than servants of the people. If they find us lacking in any respect, we have a solemn obligation not to . . . ARTY: Yeah. Well, good, Rich. NIXON: . . . not to deny anyone, big or small, regardless of race, creed or color, the opportunity — in fact, the right — to be heard. Even, I assured you if what we hear is critical in nature. It is the very essence of our democracy. NIXON (icily): I don't think you have any call to make a crack like that. MARTY: That's not what Arty meant, Rich. It's nothing personal. What he meant was we got to build you some warm style jokes to get you across. You know? Gags like about the kids, the wife, the mother-in-law, the family dog. ARTY: You got a dog, Rich? NIXON: Are you kidding? MARTY: Great! Now what we do, we go through the file on dog jokes. ARTY (snaps fingers): I got one, Marty. Right off the top of my head. Now follow me. There's this TV show, see? And Lassie's being interviewed on it. MARTY: No good, Arty. Too blue.
NIXON: I don't get it. MARTY: You don't have to get it, Rich. Just throw it away. Deadpan. You know, like Bob Hope. NIXON: I'm booked for a one-nighter next week before the Women's Auxiliary of the National Grange in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, fellows. You got any ideas? ARTY: Got one, Marty. Right off the top of my head. There's this . . . MARTY: No good, Arty. Too blue. (THERE'S A KNOCK AT THE OFFICE DOOR. A SENATE PAGE ENTERS AND ANNOUNCES, "MR. VICE PRESIDENT, THE SENATE RECONVENES IN FIVE MINUTES.") NIXON (fluffs out his boutonniere): That's all for now, boys. Got to go. It's showtime!
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| Jan. 18, 1956: Hedda Hopper goes on a junket to see the new Hilton hotel in Dallas. Biggest complaint? The local newspaper doesn’t carry “Dick Tracy.” |
| Photograph by Martin E. “M.E.” Rafert, Los Angeles Times The field at the Aviation Meet, Jan. 13, 1910. |
At right, a few lines about Rafert in Lee Shippey’s Lee Side O’ L.A. Rafert died in 1943, but The Times didn’t publish an obituary on him. |
“The Only Real Thing in the World Is Imagination.”
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| Jan. 18, 1910: The Times publishes an obituary on author Margaret Collier Graham of South Pasadena. Editions of her books may be found at bookfinder.com. Scans of her books are also available at archive.org. |
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| Jan. 17, 1955: Hedda Hopper writes, “While in New York I learned why TV will not move to the West Coast. Gen. David Sarnoff has bought 10 square blocks of Lower East Side property and will build a great NBC-TV center to rival ours in California, getting all his programs under one roof instead of rehearsing in every nook and corner of Manhattan.” |
| On the frontiers of medicine … Above, a news analysis of President Eisenhower’s refusal to make a formal endorsement of Vice President Richard Nixon in the presidential race.
Below, Eisenhower’s comments from the Jan. 14, 1960, Times.
The Times announces that it plans to carry a column by Sen. Barry Goldwater (R-Ariz.)
Braven Dyer interviews Eugene "Big Daddy" Lipscomb, a former Ram playing for the Colts. Later a defensive tackle for the Steelers, Lipscomb died in 1963 of an apparent drug overdose.
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| Jan. 17, 1960: Times book editor Robert R. Kirsch writes: “Errol Flynn's ‘My Wicked, Wicked Ways’ is "revealing, candid and lusty; Flynn names names and places. And if you are interested in the low life in the high places of Hollywood, you won't be disappointed. But the book is more revealing, perhaps unintentionally, in other, more important matters, which I would, for lack of a better term, call the pathos of prominence.” |
“When a Feller Needs a Friend,” by Clare Briggs.
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| Jan. 17, 1920: Depositions of five children will be read into the record in the trial of Otoman Zar-Adusht Hanish of the Mazdaznan cult. And yes, The Times identified all five alleged victims of the “revolting offenses.” |
No one knows how it started but one day last week the rumor swept through an L.A. junior high school that the Russians were going to drop an atom bomb on the city at noon.
Hollywood, U.S.A. — The shadow of a showman slipped into town this week.
