Snow!

Jan. 15, 1932
Los Angeles

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Matt Weinstock

Jan. 14, 1958

Matt_weinstockd
Judges try not to smile, no matter how ridiculous the charade unfolding
before them becomes. Sometimes they hold back only with great
difficulty.

A woman seeking a divorce in Judge Burnett Wolfson’s court was asked on
what grounds she sought her freedom. She replied that, among other
things, her husband used obscene language.

The judge asked what it was. She said it was so foul she couldn’t repeat it aloud.

SO THE JUDGE asked her to whisper it to the court reporter, who in turn whispered it to him.

When her corroborating witness took the stand, she said also that the husband’s language was awful and couldn’t be repeated.

Then how, asked the judge, did she know what it was?

"Oh," she replied matter-of-factly, "we rehearsed it all before we came down here."


THE SENATOR
Hotel in
Sacramento is traditionally the place where legislators, lobbyists and
people with expense accounts gather to make plans, discuss deals and
conspire generally for or against the taxpayers.

Well, the Senator gets out a daily mimeographed single-sheet news
bulletin and a few days ago it had this intriguing typo: "Sacramento
weather: Mostly cloudy. Occasional raid today."


MEDICAL SCIENCE
may be aghast to learn of the experience of a West L.A. woman.

She was cleaning out her medicine cabinet and a bottle containing
sleeping pills fell on the floor and spilled. She though nothing of it
until she looked down and saw her dog, a poodle which will eat
anything, gulping them down. A few moments later the pooch was curled
up in blissful sleep.

Alarmed, she tried to rouse him. She got him to his feet, thinking to
make him walk off the effect of the drug, but his legs would wobble,
collapse and he’d fall down.

Then inspiration came. She forced him to swallow some Benzedrine
pills–pepper-uppers. After a while, the dog got up, dashed out of the
house and picked a fight with several larger dogs and came home with
wounds to prove it.

He is now back to normal.


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THERE  WILL BE no ceremony on the City Hall steps, but today marks the 20th anniversary of a major event in L.A. political history.

It was on Jan. 14, 1938, an old-timer reminds, that a bomb exploded as
Harry J. Raymond, a private investigator, started his car, critically
injuring him.

It had been planted there by Capt. Earle E. Kynette, head of the LAPD intelligence squad, who went to San Quentin for the crime.

The blast blew the lid off a maze of intrigue and graft involving men
high in city government. Its repercussions  still can be heard without
benefit of wire-tap evidence.

Ironically, the gamblers and racketeers who were involved in the
conspiracy fled to Las Vegas, where they have continued to amass wealth
at the expense of visiting L.A. suckers.

The moral is clouded in the mist.


MISCELLANY
— The typed
agenda for tonight’s meeting of the Inglewood Park Recreation
Commission lists as the only item of Old Business: "Architect’s
relocation of water closet in ladies’ rest room, Inglewood Recreation
Center"… Mike, the copy boy, reports seeing a 1950 Ford in North
Hollywood with a sign on its badly dented rear, "Please, Ladies–Not
Again!"… Let’s pretend we didn’t see the slogan "The Catillac of Pet
Foods" … Have you noticed the new firetrucks have wipers both outside
and inside the windshields? In case it rains on the inside, of course.

   
   

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Paul Coates

Paul_coates
Jan. 14, 1958

This is the story of one kid. He lives here. His name is Gene. But with
a few alterations it could be the story of any of 10,000 kids who live
here. Or maybe 100,000 kids.

But I’m just going to talk about Gene.

I’m going to tell you how his trouble started.

They started, according to the man I talked to, because Gene didn’t look quite like all the other kids looked.

He had some sort of a skin disease, which sometimes blotched his face and arms and legs.

He had a mother, with a college background, who worked as a secretary.

He had a father who was a fairly important union official in town.

Gene’s parents, of course, had each other. But they weren’t especially
happy about it. So, to make their individual lives more pleasant, each
picked up a private lover.

That’s what the man told me, anyway.

He also told me how Gene found out about it, and how he reacted to it.

Gene, he said, gradually became a pretty irresponsible kid.

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For no reason, he started skipping school. He refused to do his
homework. He picked up the habit of smoking, but got his biggest kick
out of doing it on the grounds of his junior high, where other kids
could watch him.

His parents were told about what he was doing.

But they didn’t do anything about it.

Because, I guess, they didn’t quite know what they should do.

The result was exactly what you guessed. Gene’s rebellion became a little more obvious.

In one semester, he ditched school 16 times.

And there were some questions by the police about some "Midnight Auto
Supply" activities of his. About hubcaps taken from parked automobiles.
Things like that.

Next–and it wasn’t too long–Gene found himself with a probation officer.

And he found out that if he wanted to stay in good with his probation
officer, and stay out of work camp–he’d better start paying regular
visits to the "man" at the Southeast Youth Guidance Center in
Huntington Park.

The "man" happened to be a professional, trained psychologist.

Gene’s first visit was early last year, when he was 14. Since then, he returned for some 64 additional private sessions.

He didn’t particularly want to go. But he went. And, after a bit of
pressuring, his mother and father went to the center, too. To attend
weekly therapy group classes.

The result, to date, of what has happened is on a paper in front of me.

It reads, in part:

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"After approximately 20 sessions, the diminution in Gene’s tensions and
anxiety apparently resulted in alleviation of his skin disturbances.

"By then he had also begun to feel out possibilities of making friends other than those with whom he had been in trouble…

"He began to spend more time with his father, who was made to realize
that a good parent did not always act like a union official…

"Gene’s mother also became less rejecting of him and of her home in general…

"The last time I saw Gene he still could not be considered the
personification of psychological adjustment. However his feeling about
himself and others seemed to be such that he would have a very good
chance of leading a happy and worthwhile life."

The report was one of more than 50 written during the past year by the
11 professional psychologists and social workers who contribute their
time to youth counseling at the center.

Their tab for maintaining offices and purchasing supplies ran to about
$1,200 for 1957. It was picked up by local service clubs, which felt
the need in their community for such a center.

From the reports I’ve read, it appears that Gene and a lot of other
pre-delinquent and delinquent kids were given the attention they needed
before they committed some major crimes against our society.

We need more centers like this one in Huntington Park.

But it isn’t very likely that we’ll recognize the need until an awful
lot of kids who could have been helped are standing behind cell bars.

   
   

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Raymond bombing

Today is the 70th anniversary of one of the more notorious events in Los Angeles history, which occurred at 955 Orme St. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. If not, read about it here. It’s called the Harry Raymond bombing.

 

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Jayne Mansfield

 

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Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay, 1958-1964? (It’s unclear if a 1963 divorce in Juarez was recognized in the U.S.) She married Matt (Thomas Vitale Ottaviano) Cimber in 1964 and filed for divorce in 1966.  The final decree was pending when Mansfield died in a 1967 car crash outside New Orleans, along with attorney Sam Brody and driver Ronnie Harrison. Mickey Jr., Mariska and Zoltan Hargitay (who had been mauled by a lion at Jungleland) survived the crash. She was married to Paul Mansfield from 1950 to 1957.

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Mystery photo

 

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Photograph by the Los Angeles Times

 

Who are these gentlemen and what are they doing? Bonus question: Who was the former owner of this Cadillac?

  • Is it Johnny Stompanato? (Howard Decker–first by 10 minutes over the next correct response). Absolutely. A photo published June 7, 1949, shows John Stompanato and L.R. Shoemaker of the sheriff’s Gangster Squad looking for bullet holes in a 1948 Cadillac Stompanato bought from Mickey Cohen. Authorities were investigating charges that a Beverly Hills auto body shop fixed bullet holes in Cohen’s and Stompanato’s cars without reporting the repairs to police, as required by law. In a few months, Mr. Stompanato is going to have an unfortunate encounter with a knife.

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Jan. 14, 1958

Jayne Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay get married… (note that The Times used an AP photo)… will the Dodgers play at Wrigley Field? (no "Moon Shots" there, folks)… Sarah Churchill, daughter of a fellow named Sir Winston, gets popped for being incredibly drunk and magnificently abusive… Hollywood pioneer Jesse Lasky dies… and a deputy kills a teenager… So many stories and only one Larry Harnisch. 

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Jan. 14, 1908

A man convicted of killing a police officer killer tries to sell his body for a little cash … and his partner goes on trial…  A man can’t get picked up by the streetcar because he looks like a robber… and Boyle Heights is smiling.

 

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Killing revisited

 

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Sylvan C. Diamond writes of the Felicitas Nicholson case:

1957_0720_heidi
I covered the Nicholson trial as a reporter
for the all news radio station in Riverside, KACE. (No longer
there).

I was allowed by presiding Superior Court
Judge John Gabbert to record and air the entire proceedings of the
trial.

It was the first time ever that such
proceedings were broadcast. (Long before O.J.)

I was also first to break the story of the
Heidi Nicholson’s murder.

I was in the office of the head of the
Uniform Division of the Riverside County Sheriff’s Office when the call came in
regarding the murder.

Robert Pressley (later a State Senator)
the sheriff in charge, allowed me to accompany him to the scene of the
crime.

From that point forward I reported the
investigation and proceedings of the case from start to finish.

It is my understanding that Felicitas
Nicholson was eventually released and moved to San Bernardino where she
committed suicide.

I do not have the tapes since they were the property of Ray Lapica’s (former UPI
rewrite man) radio station K-ACE when it was on the air in Riverside.

He
eventually sold the station and earned a law degree at USC. Last I read,the call
letters belonged to a Jazz station in Santa Monica 😦

Side bar. Judge John Gabbert
(as I understand it) is the son of the founder of The Riverside Press Enterprise
newspaper. It was his contention that more people should be made aware of
court proceedings other than the 40 or so who could crowd into his
courtroom.

Therefore, he agreed to allow me to place my mic next to his at the
witness stand. (Yes. He recorded his own trials). The recording equipment was
placed out of sight in his adjoining chambers.

At that time, I believe, allowing
the broadcast was a violation of Judicial Canon 13(Whatever that was). None of
the privileged exchanges at the bench were broadcast but everything else was
fair game.

Judge Gabbert may have received "a slap on the wrist" for his
courageous, pioneering stance but no other penalties.

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Matt Weinstock

Matt_weinstockd
Jan. 13, 1958

There are words which somehow people think mean the opposite of what Mr. Webster states about them in his big book.

For instance, enervate. It means to deprive of strength, to enfeeble. Yet many people think it means the opposite–to pep up.

Another is fulsome, meaning coarse, sickening, repulsive, disgusting.
But many persons believe it means the reverse–flattering or adulatory.

Onetime adman Jack Smalley wrote a commercial for a wine account
describing a product as "fulsome in flavor." Pat Bishop recorded it and
it was broadcast for several weeks–until a university prof suggested
someone consult the dictionary.

HORRIFIED, Jack withdrew the commercial and since that time has brooded over the world.

Whenever he found it improperly used by others he felt a little better but his error left a wound.

A few days ago, however, Jack came upon this sentence by that master of
English, W. Somerset Maugham, in the introduction to "The Portable
Dorothy Parker":

1958_0113_stab
"Fancy not knowing that a writer will accept fulsome praise as only his
due, but will grizzle and grieve over a hint of imperfection as though
his publisher had gypped him, his wife betrayed him and his son gone
into the movies."

He says the last sting has been drawn.

SOMETIMES
the mad, gay social whirl becomes more than a person can take, even for
a gal who gets around, as does Mary O’Brien, the advertising lady at
The Broadway.

Mary received a printed invitation to the dedication of a roadside rest
station 33 miles east of Barstow Tuesday, Jan. 16, with a reception and
luncheon to follow. The event is being sponsored, among others, by the
Barstow and Mojave Valley Chambers (of Commerce).

It sounded very provocative, but Mary has sent her regrets.


ONE OF MY
operatives on bat-cave patrol came upon two soiled gentlemen discussing a certain police officer.

"Aw, what did he ever do?" snarled one.

"For one thing, he arrested you," replied the other.

"Well, he better not take all the credit for that, he better spread it
around," said the first. "I been arrested by four or five other guys,
too, you know."

THE PEOPLE
at a party got to discussing unaccountable things that happen–strange
noises in the night, disappearance of objects, weird experiences
involving life and death, and so on. Some attributed them to
coincidence or natural causes, others to psychic phenomena and
extrasensory perception.

A woman who had listened intently but contributed nothing to the
discussion finally got her chance. "I have a strange power myself," she
said. "I attract wrong numbers on the telephone."


ONLY IN L.A.
— Kendis
Rochlen’s car stalled on Santa Monica Boulevard near La Cienega and a
mink-coated woman at the wheel of a 1958 Cadillac behind her leaned on
her horn then swung out and around her. As she passed she yelled, "Why
don’t you get out of the way–I’m late to work!" Kendis couldn’t help
thinking it must have been nice work.

MISCELLANY
— Who says the dollar isn’t worth more than it used to be? A woman
flying back from Las Vegas had to pay nearly $3 for an overweight
bag–in which she had placed 50 silver dollars… Between editions, the
rewrite boys worked out this definition of a pundit: a man with a
plethora of opinion, a paucity of information and a ptypewriter… Ivan
Cazier of Arcadia inquires, "What about the Dodgers playing at Santa
Anita?" At least there’s plenty of parking space.

   
   

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Paul Coates

Paul_coates
Jan. 13, 1958

Juvenile terror has been a fact in this town for a long time. It’s nothing new.

But there is something new about the latest series of outbreaks which hit the headlines over the last few days.

Take a look at the stories:

First,
there was the 16-year-old honor student son of a Norwalk high school
principal who went on a wild spree with some "model youth" friends and
ended up firing three bullets into a liquor store clerk.

There
there were the dozen boys from typical, conservative middle-class homes
who filed into court last week to be sentenced for terrorizing the men,
women and children of a quiet neighborhood in North Hollywood.

There
was Barbara Burns, 19-year-old daughter of the late comic, Bob, and her
young Hollywood society friends who became caught on their own
doorsteps in a vicious web of narcotics.

And, over the weekend,
there was the arrest of 14 young men, including five star Glendale
college athletes, for some of the most senseless, destructive acts of
vandalism reported here in years.

The young men, most of them 18
and 19, allegedly caused more than $15,000 worth of damage to some 40
parked cars by aimlessly attacking the empty vehicles with hatchets,
crowbars and rocks.

In newspaper accounts of the above stories, there were some striking similarities.

In nearly ever case, the youths were reported to have been from "good families, from excellent environment."

In
those cases involving robbery, the kids invariably were quoted as
saying that they didn’t do it for the money. They had money.

And when asked why they did what they did, they had other stock answers:

"I don’t know… for kicks maybe… Nothing else to do."

I
think that now might be a good time to emphasize the fact that none of
these kids were from the so-called "underprivileged, gang-infested"
Eastside of town.

1958_0113_cisneros_2
In fact, when these stories were making black
headlines, there were some stories about Eastside "kid gangs" buried
much deeper in the news.

In case you didn’t see them, they
concerned Eastside "kid gang" activities like collecting food for poor
families, like planning charity benefit dances.

Councilman Ed
Roybal has griped for years that newspapers "protect" the delinquent
kids of high income neighborhoods and repeatedly blow up juvenile
disturbances on the Eastside into "gang wars" and "rat pack terrorism."

I don’t agree with Roybal.

And
I think police statistics will back me up. There has been much more
juvenile trouble in low-income neighborhoods than in high-income ones.

But over the last 15 or 20 years, there has been quite a change in our Eastside.

Most
of the slum areas are gone. Some vanished by edict of the city. But
more disappeared simply as a result of the hard work and sincere effort
by those who inhabited them to give their kids something a little
better.

Eastside and Southside gang problems haven’t been wiped out, by any means.

Still
left is a lot of the fear and poverty which drives kids into bands of
their own for protection and something called "status."

But
those kid gangs which are still active aren’t usually guilty of the
same type of offense which we’ve been reading about for the last week.
Gang members’ strange code of honor allows them to maim and kill each
other, but usually it spares the outsiders–the women and children.

This is by way of explanation, not excuse.

This
weekend, I talked with a longtime Eastside social worker. I asked him
for his analysis of Eastside teenagers and the so-called "more favored"
ones.

"There’s never been a lot of difference," he said. "Except
that, on the whole, most of the other kids got off to a better start in
life."

I asked him how, recently, the two groups seemed to be finding their positions somewhat reversed.

"Maybe," he answered me, "it’s part of growing up. Kids are known rebels at certain ages.

"You
take a kid, tell him he’s not expected to amount to anything, then give
him a little encouragement–and watch him fight to make good.

"Take
another kid, give him everything, tell him he can’t miss being
successful with his background. Then offer him a little temptation–and
watch him try to make a liar out of you."

L.A.’s got a problem–and it’s not going to be solved by gawking bystanders.

   
   

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Craby Joe’s RIP

All is not well in Bukowski Square at Main and 7th. As noted all over
the Internet, Craby Joe’s closed on Christmas Eve, a passing that was
mourned by many, though not the Daily Mirror, who was at midnight Mass.

However, a post by Ed Fuentes
noted that Craby Joe’s sign had vanished. My first thought was that
it was tucked away in the garage of Nathan Marask, 1947project partner, crime buddy
and authority on neon signs. Alas, no. Nor did Nathan know where it was. Sad foot!

So off I went to Bukowski Square, stopping by the film shoot I posted yesterday.

 

2008_0112_craby_joes
Photographs by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times

There was the former Craby Joe’s, with a man asleep in the doorway. And
barely a trace of the sign. I wish I’d gotten a better picture of it,
but the sun is at the wrong angle this time of year and the Daily
Mirror’s Speed Graphic is in the shop–permanently.

 

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Here’s Bukowski Square on Dec. 13, 2007. Note Craby Joe’s to the far left.

The good news is that I found some other vestiges of the past.

 

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Here’s a sign from the Leonide Hotel–"Nice Place."

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And, beneath a few inches of asphalt, what appears to be the tile floor of the Hippodrome, as noted in Ed’s post.

 

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And "L.A. Takedown."

 

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Edmund Hillary

 

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Here’s Dennis McLellan’s obituary on Hillary.

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The Badge

Well isn’t this interesting? Here’s the original cover of "The Badge," from my five-foot shelf of books on Los Angeles. Note the style of badge and Serial No. 714.

 

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And here’s the cover of the reprint ("With a new introduction by James Ellroy") using the style of badge that was abandoned in the 1940s. Jack Webb with this clunky old thing that isn’t even Serial No. 714? How the mighty have fallen.

 

Badge_grab

Update: Reader Call Box Sam points out further problems with the badge
on the new edition of Webb’s book. He correctly notes that there is no city seal
in the middle and that the titles are wrong. (Yes, I should have noticed this since I have an image of an authentic badge on my site, but  … I was hurrying to get to church).

 

Lapd1a

For comparison, here’s an old image of a proper badge (at least to the best of my knowledge it is an authentic badge) that I got years ago from EBay. This style of badge was withdrawn in the 1940s because there were literally thousands that had been given out to civilians over the years.

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Drunk farm

Jan. 13, 1958
Los Angeles

If you’ve read Jack Webb’s "The Badge," (Page 236-240) you’ll recall a section on the LAPD’s farm for rehabilitating alcoholics. According to Webb, who unfortunately is not a terribly reliable source, the project began because there were so many alcoholics on skid row–making it "the No. 1 Bowery of America." The facility was eventually turned over to Los Angeles County, then reverted to the city of Los Angeles. 27234 Bouquet Canyon Road is now the address of the Castaic Lake Water Agency Conservatory Garden and Learning Center.

And 50 years later, skid row remains one of the city’s intractable problems.

 

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Jan. 13, 1958

 

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Jan. 13, 1908

An experiment in powering streetcars via rails rather than overhead wires (the car reaches 35 mph and the inventor says it could hit 70 mph–an interesting idea when sharing the street with horses and autos)… A clothing sale… And how about a trip south for a stay at the Del Coronado? Note the Japanese influence: An art show and Yamato’s Bazaar.

 

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Location sleuth

 

 

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Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times

I set out for Bukowski Square to check on Craby Joe’s (more about that later) and discovered Main Street was blocked for filming. Coming to a theater near you will be this scene from a film set in Indianapolis. The record will show that it was filmed using the Farmers and Merchants Bank at 4th Street and Main on Jan. 12, 2008.

Ps. I know I have some readers who are in law enforcement. Anybody care
to critique the way this intersection has been secured? I realize it’s
Hollywood, but….

 

Nh_shootout1

 

A map of the 1997 North Hollywood shootout. Note the difference.

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Nh_shootout_google

Here’s shootout site on Laurel Canyon from Google Earth.

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LAPD HQ

 

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Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times

 

This is a detail of the slabs being installed on the new Los Angeles Police Department headquarters on Spring Street. I hope, I’m wrong but the idea of a big downtown building that looks like this isn’t terribly appealing.

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110 revisited

 

 

2008_0104_ramp
 Photograph by Larry Harnisch / The Los Angeles Times

And what have we here? It looks like there’s an abandoned freeway ramp behind this chain-link fence. Hm. Wouldn’t it be fun to get a closer look? Stay tuned.

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