October 21, 1957: Matt Weinstock

October 21, 1957

Matt WeinstockLast Friday, a Hollywood hillsider named George was unable to start his car–the battery was dead.

A neighbor obligingly drove him down the hill to a gas station, where George asked if he could get a rental battery for a couple of days.

“Rental battery?” echoed the attendant. “There’s no such thing any more.”

However, he said he would be glad to install a new one.

George declined. He explained he needed rental battery only for a couple of days to run some errands preparatory to leaving today for New York for a couple of months. He didn’t want to buy a new battery because it would go dead during his absence. Continue reading →

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October 21, 1957: Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

October 21, 1957

Paul Coates, in coat and tieWhen a funnyman tries to be serious, he doesn’t always come across.

In fact, sometimes his sincerity is rewarded with laughs that approach guffaws. And, much as he hates it, the guy is downright hilarious.

And maybe that was Sy Miller’s trouble.

For years Sy had been known around Hollywood as a solid comedy writer, a man who could knock out a funny script for television or a good act for nightclubs with equal ease.

Occasionally, with his wife, Jill, he’d punch out a song, too. Novelty numbers–the kind that have to hit the market at the right time with the right voice or they fall harder than a bad joke. Continue reading →

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Rock Hudson’s wedding album

I went down to The Times’ archives and pulled Rock Hudson‘s wedding pictures because I’m the kind of person who would want to see Rock Hudson’s wedding pictures. Please note: All captions are from original information provided when the photos were taken.

Really.

 

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Times file photo, Nov. 9, 1955
Film actor Rock Hudson, 29, and Phyllis Gates, 25, former executive assistant to actor’s business manager, cut wedding cake after their surprise marriage Wednesday night in Santa Barbara.

For more pictures, click below:

Continue reading →

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Death in Arcadia

 

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Oct. 21, 1957

Arcadia

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OK, we got another strangled woman. You want to go? Fine, get in.

Not much traffic at 2 a.m., is there? We’ll cruise along Sierra Madre
Boulevard through the little town of Sierra Madre and out to Arcadia.
Right on Santa Anita, left on Virginia and another left on Highland
Oaks. Nice big homes out here, aren’t there? All these ranch houses
they’re putting in.

This is the place, 1821 Alta Oaks Drive. Cost $50,000.* 2,900 square feet. That’s big where I come from.

Be quiet, don’t move anything and keep your hands in your pockets.
Notice how they don’t lock the doors. I guess they figure nothing ever
happens in Arcadia. Let’s go in.

This is the home of Albert W. Tracy and his wife, Marion. He’s an
executive with Anaconda Wire and Cable Co.  They’re both 48 and have
been married 26 years, with a married daughter who lives in Denver and
a son at USC who drove up to Berkeley this weekend to see the Trojans
play Cal.

Earlier this evening the Tracys had some friends over, Edward McGlone
and his wife. After they left, Albert went to bed about 11 p.m.
The last time he saw Marion alive she was in the living room. He just woke up a little while ago,
went into the bathroom and took an aspirin. He wondered why she hadn’t
come to bed and called to her but went back to sleep when she didn’t
answer.

Ready? Let’s go into the son’s bedroom. Notice the French doors aren’t locked.

That’s Marion on the bed. She’s wearing a blue nylon nightgown and a
white terrycloth robe. Later on when Albert finds her, he’s going to
put her feet on the bed and cover her with a blanket, but that’s not
how she looks now. She has a man’s blue, silk necktie wound around her
neck. The sheriff’s investigators will say that it isn’t knotted very
tightly. And there’s some blood hemorrhaged out of her left ear.

Notice that nothing is out of place anywhere in the house and that she’s still wearing her wedding and engagement ring.

Your old friend Dr. Frederick Newbarr is going to find that she has an
abnormal amount of aspirin in her body–but the papers don’t say how
much. He’s going to say was strangled. 

At the inquest, Tracy will testify that everything was fine between him
and Marion. The children will say their mother often threatened to kill
herself, but they don’t say why. Her 49th birthday would have been Nov.
13. The jury will rule the death a suicide.

Well, we better get going. Albert’s going to wake up and come looking for Marion. He’ll call the doctor, who will
tell him to phone the Fire Department. But she’s already gone.

He’s going to tell the police: "I can’t understand it. Somebody must have come into the house in the night and done this."

 

1821_alta_oaks
Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times
1821 Alta Oaks Ave., Arcadia, Calif., Oct. 14, 2007

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*$358264.19 USD 2006. 

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Storm drenches Southland

Oct. 21, 1957

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In which some in-jokes get outed

 

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Above, the birth of Phlange Welder, Nov. 26, 1961.

Comes now the time to divulge two of the deeper secrets of L.A newspaper lore, which I had forgotten until dinner recently with Carolyn Strickler, former head of The Times History Center.

Their names are Victor Frisbie and Phlange Welder. Mark them well, for although they were not brothers, they were truly kindred spirits. Hidden though they may have been, there is no escape from Proquest.

In deference to age and seniority, I'll take Victor first.

Victor did not emerge from the forehead of Zeus, but rather from the fertile imagination of Los Angeles Examiner reporter Maury Godchaux, assigned to provide color for the paper's coverage of the 1950 Rose Parade, according to a 1962 story by Paul Coates. (And yes, there really was a Maury Godchaux. He even wrote for The Times in the 1940s).

According to Coates, instead of prowling chilly Colorado Boulevard, Godchaux "sat huddled in a telephone booth. At reasonable intervals, he dialed his city desk with a series of 'exclusives.' He never left the booth, pausing between calls only long enough to invent another imaginary person and set of 'facts.' "

1985_frisbie_quote "One of Godchaux's inventions, a man named Victor Fristbie, was given Page 1 play by the reporter's unwary editors."

On May 25, 1950, Godchaux died after being hit by a car. His wife, Miriam, had just dropped him off at Victory Boulevard and Bellaire and he was struck while crossing the street to the bus stop for the ride downtown to the Examiner.

1965_0702_welderIn a tribute, Godchaux's fellow reporters decided to resurrect Victor Frisbie in their annual stories about the Rose Parade, Coates said. Mostly he was described as a visitor from Bakersfield, although he also put in appearances as a Cumberland, Md., dentist, a Minneapolis mortician and was once Brig. Sir Victor Frisbie of the Royal Australian Artillery.

According to Coates, in January 1962, the front page of the Examiner's final edition carried a boxed item: "BAKERSFIELD–Victor Frisbie, well-known sportsman  and traveler, died here today. He was 58."

Victor's career went on hiatus for 15 years before he resurfaced in a 1977 Times story on a Laguna Beach landslide. As far as I can determine, his second and final appearance was in a 1985 Calendar story   (above, right) in what was then the section's single-minded obsession with Bruce Springsteen, who was ending a world tour in a concert at the Coliseum.

1962_0311_phlange_welder_2In contrast, Phlange Welder had a far more illustrious career at The Times. Lore has it that Phlange debuted in a society column listing guests at a party given by Dorothy "Buff" Chandler. But, as is often the case, the lore is wrong. Phlange Welder first appeared in a Nov. 26, 1961, column by Joan Winchell titled "Around Town."

According to Proquest, Phlange was in the paper 32 more times, most recently in 1980. Phlange mostly turns up at the end of a long list of names, sometimes in the society pages, other times in coverage of the broadcasting industry (reporter Don Page was a regular offender).

He also appeared in the TV and radio listings (Phlange Welder was apparently a classical music figure, having composed a waltz, and served as conductor of the New Symphony Orchestra of London).

It was Page, in fact, who concluded a year-end wrap-up for 1961 by saying: Name to watch in '62: Phlange Welder.

And indeed, it was a year to flourish. In 1962, Phlange showed up skiing at Mammoth (Mary Matthew), sending letters to the editor (music critic Albert Goldberg on Stravinsky), writing from his summer home in "Viet-Nam" and spending Thanksgiving with friends in Hyannis Port, Mass., (Virginia Horn).

My favorite find: A bylined Phlange Welder story from 1962 (at right).

A 1964 staff report informs us that Phlange Welder was a UC Berkeley alumnus and he appears in a year-end poem by TV writer Cecil Smith, who rhymed  his name (sort of) with Tuesday Weld.

A far more interesting reference appears in 1965 when Phlange attended the Bachelors Ball accompanied by Mary Greene, who became his regular consort. Society Editor Anne Sonne noted that Phlange was in costume as Agent 007 while Greene was dressed as Mata Hari. He also visited Palm Springs before jetting back to Brussels, according to another Sonne column.

Apparently the wags in the features section decided that Phlange needed a trip, because they reported that he left Brussels (where he visited consort Mary Greene) for a golf tour including St. Andrews in Scotland after a stop in England.

After a 10-year hiatus (more about that later), Phlange returned in a column by Pulitzer winner Martin Bernheimer in a satiric piece full of fake names.

And except for occasional memorial donations to The Times Summer Camp Fund, that was it.

Almost.

According to Times lore (and a privately printed book by Evelyn De Wolfe), one of Phlange's main patrons was Pentagon reporter and columnist Ted Sell. The legend (note: legend) says Otis Chandler eventually learned of the prank and ordered that anyone putting Phlange Welder into a story would be fired.

Sell's Dec. 27, 1967, column, written in response to Chandler's purported order (again, we are dealing with myth), appears below. Pay particular attention to the first letter of every paragraph.

 

1967_1227_sell

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Ps. Michael Connelly's "City of Bones" includes a minor character named Victor Frizbe.

 

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Honor Rancho to open

Oct. 20, 1957

UCLA defeats Oregon State, Purdue beats Michigan and Stanford beats Washington. USC loses to Cal, 12-0.

Society for News Design members please note the eight-column grid: 16 stories, plus the weather and the index. And one picture.

 

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October 19, 1957: Matt Weinstock

October 19, 1957

Matt WeinstockEdwin Anthony Browne, playboy newspaperman of another day, is revisiting L.A. after 20 years and he is aghast.

Perhaps aghast is too strong a word. Let’s say amused or mildly interested.

Brownie, an innocent-looking cherub but a deadly man in his day in running down a story or a bottle, is not given to emotional expression. In fact, his indifference to what most people consider important is colossal. Continue reading →

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October 19, 1957: Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

October 19, 1957

Paul Coates, in coat and tieMost good writers are also good listeners.

And Hollywood scenarist Jack Wagner isn’t an exception to the rule.

In fact, Jack often goes it one better by listening in the right places at the right times.

Forty-seven years ago, Jack sat in the plaza of the north Mexico town of Gomez Palacio and listened.

He heard storekeepers grumble softly about the soldiers of Presidente
Porfirio Diaz. The soldiers, they complained, had an ugly habit of
grabbing merchandise off the shelves and laughing:

“Charge it to Porfirio.” Continue reading →

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Flashback to 1955

Rock Hudson’s wedding, Nov. 8, 1955.

 

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Drug bust

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Oct. 19, 1957

Los Angeles

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Perhaps you remember publicist Desmond Slattery from Paul Coates’ Aug. 22, 1957, column.
In brief, he was selling crickets as pets.

This time, however, his problem is roaches–or rather, a roach.

Slattery and his roommate, actor Scott Brady (real name Gerald Kenneth Tierney), were arrested at 8929 Hollywood Hills Road
in a major LAPD raid in which four officers, acting on a tip that drug
parties were being held at the home, recovered: the butt of a marijuana
cigarette and, yes, a single joint.

Aside from the humorous situation of Sgt. Marty Brennan from "He Walked by Night"
being busted for drugs, there’s a serious point here and not just the
relatively minuscule amount of drugs, compared to today’s arrests.

The district attorney’s office dropped the case because it would reveal
the identify of one of the narcotics details’ "most reliable
informants," The Times said. You might be asking why the police didn’t
think of this before they staged the raid. Me too.

"All I can say is a woman is the cause of it all," Slattery mourned,
according to The Times. "You can’t shake down every woman who comes
into your place."

OK, here’s how it went down. Promise not to laugh:

Brady "invited two girls up to blast some tea and get high," Sgt. John
E. O’Grady said. (Right daddy-O. Let’s throw on some hip platters and
groove to Kerouac. He is a real gone cat).

Slattery said neither he nor Brady knew the women, but that one of them
called and arranged for Brady to meet them in Hollywood.

Brady came home with a blonde and a Eurasian. When Slattery went into
the kitchen, he found the blonde jiggling the shutters as if she were
signaling police.

"They came in like the Russian army," Slattery said despite Brady’s warning against "talking too much," The Times said.

Police rejected the men’s allegations implicating the women. "The girls
had nothing to do with the narcotics charge," O’Grady said. "They were
brought there by Scott Brady from someplace in Hollywood. We released
them after we were perfectly satisfied that they had nothing to do with
the narcotics charge."

In December, however, an officer told prosecutors that to "disclose the
identity of the two women would be to unmask one of his most reliable
informants." The officer said he could not do that "in good
conscience," The Times reported.

In other words, police got complaints that Brady and Slattery were
throwing drug parties at the house. They had an informant contact the
men, go to the home, get the men to smoke some dope and signal the
police. The cops release the women and bust the men. Any lawyers in the
audience want to weigh in?

Brady, who died in 1985, had a long career in TV. The Social Security
Death Index lists a Desmond Slattery, born Sept. 19, 1914, who died in
Houston, Jan. 4, 1977.

Sgt. John O’Grady apparently became a private investigator and wrote the 1974 book "O’Grady,"
in which he recounted being a bodyguard for Linda Lovelace. Later on,
according to The Times clips, he was hired by relatives to find out
what became of missing "Cotton Club" promoter Roy Radin. California
death records list two men named John E. O’Grady, one of whom died in
in Los Angeles County in 1990 at the age of 68.

As for the two women, we don’t know. But you hipsters watch out for a blonde and a Eurasian. They’re with the fuzz.

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Bonus fact: John O’Grady also took part in the drug raid involving Saundra Maazel.

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Rock Hudson divorce

Oct. 19, 1957

There are some days when the old newspapers take my breath away. This is one of those times. An ideal couple. Wow.


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Unsolved murder

These have been posted all over my neighborhood.

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His name was Armando Reynaga, 28, of Eagle Rock.

Also see the article in the South Pasadena High School Tiger.

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Ad misfires

Oct. 19, 1957

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October 18, 1957: Matt Weinstock

October 18, 1957

Matt WeinstockIf pressed, most persons who preside at information and complaint desks will admit there are times when they don’t think the human race is going to make it. Sanity and/or serenity, they mean.

Not long ago, a woman phoned the complaint desk at the City Health Department and said, “I want to report a health menace–my doorbell is out of order.”

Another non sequitur came from a lady who said she lived next door to a pet shop which sold horse meat. This she considered very unsanitary. “I’m expecting a baby,” she added, “and I think something should be done about it.” Continue reading →

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In the teeth of the evidence

 

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Evelyn and L. Ewing Scott during a cruise on the Queen Mary.

Oct. 16-18, 1957

Los Angeles

Arthur_g_hertel_1957_1016_j_miller_
In its opening days, the Leonard Ewing Scott murder trial has focused
Evelyn Scott’s eyeglasses and dentures, which were found behind the
couple’s Bel-Air home by police investigating her May 16, 1955,
disappearance.

The presentation by Deputy Dist. Atty. J. Miller Leavy (at right with Capt. Arthur G. Hertel, Times photo by Jack Gaunt) was part of a
mountain of evidence he planned to present exhausting all possibilities
that the 63-year-old woman was still alive. This would include
establishing a detailed pattern of her behavior that came to an abrupt
halt when she vanished.

Not that Ewing Scott was terribly upset that his wife was gone. He
never filed a missing persons report and, in fact, rebuffed questions
from friends and relatives about where she might be, saying that she
had run off or he had put her in a sanitarium to cure her alleged alcoholism.
The matter only became public in March 1956, when her brother E.
Raymond Throsby filed a petition asking to be appointed guardian of her
estate.

On March 10, 1956, The Times photographed detectives using 6-foot steel rods to probe the grounds around the home at 217 S. Bentley
in search of a body. Although they didn’t find anything, Capt. Arthur
G. Hertel was more successful in exploring an area on
an adjoining lot behind the incinerator, which was built into a
retaining wall along the property line.

"For a while I walked along the top of the wall," Hertel testified.
"Then I got down on the ground and removed some leaves and
scratched–with my hands."

The first item he found was a set of dentures under 4 or 5 inches
of leaves, partially buried and encrusted with dirt and mud. Hertel
cleared the leaves from an area about 2 feet by 18 inches, discovering
partially dissolved gelatin capsules and white pills, an empty
Eff-Remin can, a hairbrush, a tube of oily material (presumably hair dressing), a short piece of
dog chain, a cigarette holder, a large number of cigarette filters and
"wampum jewelry."

About 10 feet down the hill west of the incinerator, Hertel found a
pair of glasses. "They were on the surface of a thin layer of leaves
above the ground, exposed to view at a casual glance directly under a
heavily leaved bush," he said. Another 10 feet away, Hertel found
another pair of glasses.

"They were partially embedded in a heap of ashes," he said. "The lower
portion of the lens was covered by ashes but the bow was exposed," The
Times said. "They were encrusted with dirt, mud and ashes."

Hertel testified that the items had apparently been on the adjoining
property for some time because the leaves that covered them were loose
on top but matted and partially disintegrated underneath. His
impression was that the glasses had been washed downhill by rain rather
than thrown.

" ‘Tossed’ is not a good word," he said. " ‘Thrown’ is not a good word. ‘Placed’ is not a good word. They were just there."

Defense attorney P. Basil Lambros objected vigorously, but was overruled when Leavy moved to introduce the items into evidence.

"They have not been tied in any manner to the problem that faces us
with corpus delicti. They are immaterial, incompetent and irrelevant.
There is no proof of how they got there, if they were there… It would
be just as easy to introduce Mrs. Scott’s hat and say it was found in
the yard. The prosecution is saying that because they were found there
Scott killed his wife."

On cross-examination by Lambros, Hertel testified that the items had
not been checked for fingerprints, blood or hair because their
weathered condition convinced him that nothing would be found. He also
said that none of the items had been photographed before they were
recovered.

Hertel testified that Ewing Scott watched from a balcony as he explored
the area where the items were found. He testified that he heard Scott
ask: "What are they doing down there?"

What followed was exhaustive testimony from Evelyn Scott’s dentist, Dr.
R.L. Coldwell,  who identified the dentures, Dr. Harold R. Mulligan,
who wrote the prescription for her glasses, and Dr. Albert Chatton who
made them.

 

Ewing_scott_1956_0310_search_grover
Photograph by Bruce H. Cox / Los Angeles Times
Detectives Grover Armstrong, left, and Frank Gravente use steel rods to probe the ground around the Scott home as police spokesman Edward Walker uses a radio-telephone, March 10, 1956.

Coldwell said Evelyn Scott had worn the dentures since he made them for
her in 1943 to replace an earlier set. He noted that police had failed
to find a device she wore when sleeping to hold her teeth in place. The
Times said that the clear implication was that whatever happened to her
had occurred while she was asleep. Under defense questioning, Coldwell
said that she would have been able to use her previous set of dentures
if she still had them.

Chatton and Mulligan testified that Evelyn Scott would have been unable
to read without her glasses. Chatton noted that the frames of one pair
of glasses had faded to yellow, caused by aging and weather, rebutting
the defense implication that they had been placed there more recently,
The Times said.

To be continued…

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Ike, Elizabeth meet

Oct. 18, 1957

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October 17, 1957: Matt Weinstock

Oct. 17, 1957

It was recently stated here that the origin of Murphy’s Law, a derisive bit of whimsy among airplane people, was unknown. The “law” states, “If an aircraft part can be installed incorrectly, someone will figure out how to do it.”

Now the man who formulated this precept of human fallibility, George B. Murphy of Venice, an aircraft factory inspector, has come forward to acknowledge responsibility. He has also recounted a recent experience bearing on the same subject.

A young machinist brought him a part to inspect and he found it was out of tolerance by .001 of an inch and rejected it.

The youth insisted it was in tolerance because he handled .005. Continue reading →

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October 17, 1957: Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

Oct. 17, 1957

Paul Coates, in coat and tieHe sat nervously in the chair opposite me. The staccato beat in his speech reflected his anxiety.

“Nothing would ever have happened to me,” he said, “except that on her dead body was found my name.

“I had a job and everything was nice. I was living in Jersey, in Newark.

“It was headline in all the papers–that she was murdered.

“She lived in Phoenixville, in Pennsylvania, but it wasn’t far from Newark. Sixty, 70 miles.”

“When?” I interrupted. “When was all this?”

The young man paused. “That was…let’s see–March of ’54.” Continue reading →

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Karil Rogers Graham and ‘The Badge’

“She was such a grand, lovely person. She loved flowers, was crazy about them.”

That’s what the landlady, Eleanor Lipson, had to say about murder victim Karil Rogers Graham. Her sister, Mrs. H.L. Manley, called her “a well-settled girl.”

According to police, others described her as “intelligent, sympathetic, capable and personable” and noted that she had many friends, The Times said.

Police also questioned her former fiance, Leon McFadden, in the killing. Although The Times failed to interview McFadden, it reported that he insisted on taking a polygraph test and was cleared.

The most that can be determined about her is that she had been treated by seven psychiatrists in the last years of her life, according to police. Her
brother-in-law H.L. Manley, 9020 Balcom St., Northridge, said that Graham was a “woman who since early teens had been driven by a compulsion to paint–but she lacked the native talent to paint well,”
The Times said.

“Mrs. Graham had studied art for several years, he said, and apparently eventually became convinced that she lacked the necessary spark of talent. She became, instead, the registrar at Art Center School, where as counselor to the students she could be nearer the art objects and artists she so admired.”

That, presumably, is as close to the facts as we can come for now. Let’s see what Jack Webb does with her in the opening sentences of “The Badge.”


“The way it is with so many women who live alone, life had held back on Karil Graham. She was likable and attractive, still a year on the sunny
side of 40, sandy-haired, blue-eyed, trim-figured. But there was no husband–a marriage hadn’t worked out–no children, no other man in her
lonely life.

“Karil bravely hid the hurt and filled the emptiness as best she could. Every day she went to work, on time, to her job as receptionist at a downtown
Los Angeles art school. Nights, in her quiet apartment, she listened to music and dabbled in painting. She was just a dilettante, she knew
resignedly, but records and easel were gracious cover-ups for emptiness.

“Sometimes Karil counseled students who attended the art school. Often they were
male students, and she took them to her heart in a mothering, protective way. She saw for them something more meaningful and zestful in life, the something that had somehow passed her by.”

Is this powerful writing, heavy on the noir?
You bet. Accurate? Not when she gets demoted from registrar to receptionist. And there’s certainly nothing about her ex-fiance in Webb’s portrait of Graham’s empty life of heartache as a woman without
a man.

Far more critical, for it colors all of “The Badge,” is the world-weary, uncompassionate,  superior tone Webb affects from the first sentence. Knowing what I do of Webb’s life, I can’t say the work-obsessed, alcoholic Jack Webb, who survived a nightmarish childhood, had any business acting superior to
anyone. Why he did it is a question that only he could answer. But let this be a warning to readers who assume “The Badge” is an accurate account of historic crimes. The book is a shooting gallery for anyone
intimately familiar with the facts.

ps: Among Graham’s possessions retrieved from the crime scene was an original Raoul Dufy watercolor, The Times said. It would be interesting to know what became of it.

Graham’s remains were claimed by her mother, Gladys Rogers, for a funeral that was held in San Diego.

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