Mystery photo IV

Here’s the fourth picture of our mystery guest from The Times photo archives. The second photo of him is here. The third one is here.

(Hint:
He’s not Arnold Stang. He’s also not Telly Savalas (2 votes!), Mickey Cohen, Sammy
Cahn, Billy Wilder, Mel Blanc, Neil Simon, Jack Dragna, E.H. Land, Harry "Big Greenie" Greenberg, Johnny Roselli or Frank DeSimone).

And, in case you’re wondering, he’s not Phil Silvers or the Dalai Lama.

It must be the glasses. You can see in this picture he was a dapper dresser. What do you think about our mystery gentleman? Does he seem like a pleasant fellow? Intellectual? Would you want to have a cup of coffee with him? Think he has a family? What sorts of stories do you tell yourself about him? Clearly, if The Times took this many pictures of him he must be someone. Is he a blacklisted playwright? Some sharp producer? Does he own a restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard or an appliance store in the Valley?

And not Matt Weinstock, who looks like this:

Mystery_photo_no5

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Matt Weinstock

Matt_weinstockd
Sept. 7, 1957

The week’s cordon bleu for eccentric behavior goes to a sharply dressed
young man who came into a hill Street bat cave around midnight and
ordered a beer.

Before sipping any, he unlatched a luggage case, extracted a trumpet,
poured about half the beer into it and sloshed it around. Some spilled
on his clothes, the floor and the bar.

Lou, the bartender, frowned but said nothing. Almost anything goes in this place.

But then the fellow belted out a few notes on the horn, causing other
customers to shudder, and Lou said, "no, no, no, no," pointing out the
place had no floor show or dance license.

The fellow desisted only to the point of pouring about an inch of brew
instead of half into the trumpet from his second, third and fourth
glasses of beer before testing it for sound.

1957_0907_negroes
By this time there was only the hint of noise. The sound was more like a faulty bilge pump.

Enchanted by this charade, Mike Molony asked why he was pouring good beer in the trumpet.

The young man fixed him with a glassy stare and, instead of answering
the question, said stiffly, "In France, they do it with champagne."

Then he lifted the trumpet into position and with a dramatic flourish
blasted a moist fanfare, packed up and departed into the night.

PERHAPS it’s
the Van Gogh influence. Anyway, artist Claire Vadnay recently got the
urge to paint some sunflowers. She called several flower shops and
nurseries but they didn’t have them.

One nurseryman said the only thing to do was plant some seeds and grow
her own. He pointed out they grow very fast. This she did and painted
her picture, rather elated about this new communion with nature.

If anyone else gets the impulse, there’s a large patch of them on
Sepulveda Boulevard a short distance north of Ventura Boulevard.

A HUSKY young
man wearing a Nazi officer’s uniform with swastikas and decorations
came into a highway restaurant in Malibu the other morning accompanied
by four other youths who kept up a noisy, laughing repartee with him
about the costume.

People in the restaurant looked at him but no one inquired if he had a part in a movie or was wearing the uniform as a gag.

A woman of French origin who saw the Nazis at their worst got up quietly and left, unable to finish her breakfast coffee

"I know," she says, "it was 12 years ago and we should forget, but I can’t."

VACATION NOTES Jack
Jarvis, Seattle columnist, drove his MG to Victoria, B.C., where it
attracted considerable attention. An Englishwoman asked, "Is that one
of those funny little foreign cars?" "Yes, ma’am," said Jack, "made in
England." "Oh," she said….

I didn’t see it while I was up north last week but Bill Vernon of the
Stenotype Co. here photographed a highway sign between Quincy and
Portola stating, "Deer, Keep Off Highway Motorists Are Passing." Yep,
the deer up there apparently can read.

MISCELLANY — Harper’s
magazine has come up with the word "unnice." Some people just can’t
bring themselves to say "lousy"…When Bill Hazen passed the place the
first letter of a neon sign on Olympic Boulevard west of Figueroa was
blacked out and stated "HOTOGRAPHY." A salute, no doubt, to the
Inconsequential trial… Mike Kaplan of Variety, who will conduct a
UCLA extension course this month in Contemporary Reviewing in the
Theater Arts, and Hal Levy, who will give his course in Popular Lyric
Writing for the sixth year there, got together the other day for a
chat. Conclusion, mutually arrived at: Maybe they should put their two
courses together and teach people how to become
Al Jarvis…

The Let’s Have Better Mottoes Association selection for September is
"Think Big"–printed on a card in type so small a magnifying glass is
required to read it… Leon Lukaszewski has a suggestion for the
gray-haired gent who is driven to a 7th Street office building daily in
a chauffeured convertible and has to push the front seat down to
squeeze out the door: Come down the ladder one more run and ride in
front with the chauffeur.

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Mystery photo III

Here’s a third picture of our mystery guest from The Times photo archives. Another photo of him is here.
(Hint:
He’s not Arnold Stang. He’s also not Telly Savalas, Mickey Cohen, Sammy
Cahn, Billy Wilder, Mel Blanc, Neil Simon or Jack Dragna).

He almost looks like Igor Stravinsky in this picture. But he’s not.

Someone asks: "Is he one of the Marx Brothers?" He’s not. But if he were, his name would be "Ammo." Hint. Hint.

He’s also not E.H. Land (of Polaroid fame) or Harry "Big Greenie" Greenberg. Or Johnny Roselli. Or Frank DeSimone.

And, in case you’re wondering, he’s not Phil Silvers or the Dalai Lama.

Mystery_photo_no4_2

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How to Get–and Keep–a Husband

 

1957_0904_constance

Sept. 4-6, 1957

Los Angeles

If it’s true that a woman without a man is like a fish without a
bicycle, then author Kate Constance wants every salmon to have a
Schwinn. She’s written a book on the subject, "How to Get and Keep a Husband," which is being serialized in the Mirror.

In the last three parts of her series, Kate Constance tells the
aspiring fish how to get ready for the big date, what to do when you’re
out with an eligible bicycle and getting him to pop the question!

If you want to land a bicycle, dear fish, you must get into training.
You can take 10 years off your age if you get plenty of sleep and rest,
exercise and eat properly:

1957_0905_bike_ad
"Usually a woman’s diet shows in her face. Unless you are planning your
meals under a doctor’s direction, you can be sure of a beauty diet if
you eat plenty of fruit, vegetables (all colors), fish, fowl, beef,
butter, eggs, whole grain breads and cereals and drink at least 1 1/2
pints of milk daily," Constance says.

Next, make a list of your best characteristics and worst flaws. Be
brutal, dear fish. Now accentuate your positives and remember that your
wardrobe can make all the difference because it combines smartness and
illusion!

First of all, dress appropriately and for goodness’ sake dress your
age. "Nothing is so pitiful as the mature woman who seeks to turn back
the calendar by taking the role of the schoolgirl!" Constance says.

"Suppose you are tall, slender, red-haired and past 40, possessing a
pensive smile and a quiet manner. Vivid blues, full skirts and
dramatically squared-out necklines should be good features for you."

On the other hand:

"If you have lovely gray hair and your figure is on the stoutish side,
with average height, you can be exquisite in all black touched with
white (not lace!!) to emphasize your hair."

Above all, Constance says, be neat and clean, don’t wear too much makeup, choose the right perfume and wear tasteful jewelry. And do your hair!

Now that you’re ready for your big date, here’s some things to remember, Constance says:

A man is a hunter and wants to do his own seeking for a mate. He prefers not to be pursued.
He has a deep-seated ego for reproduction, which is his vulnerableness to marriage.
His natural sexual urge may trip him into untoward advances. You must know how to deal with his "proposition."
He likes to enjoy the benefits of marriage but is not eager for its responsibilities.
He does not crave marriage when his sexual appetite is satisfied.
He envisions his perfect woman as half mate, half mother, full of love and virtue.
He despises the woman who steps down from her higher standards, even for him.

Don’t make the mistake of calling the bicycle, dear fish. Let him call
you. Don’t phone him unless it’s necessary and above all, do NOT call
him at work unless it is an emergency. When you’re on the phone with
your bike, don’t say too much. Use your conversations to "stimulate
curiosity and an aura of excitement," Constance says.

In dressing for your date, it’s all right to show your shoulders and
arms, but watch the neckline, dear fish! "Give him a chance to look at
you and take in your total charm."

When he picks you up,  invite him in for a few moments to see the fish
tank. "This closeup  view  of your home environment will give him a
better understanding of the kind of woman you are," Constance says.

Don’t let anyone else answer the door. And for
heaven’s sake, don’t let your family interrogate him while you’re still
getting ready as they are likely to ask all sorts of prying questions.

Keep calm, dear fish. "Maintain an air of composure, even if you are
excited," Constance says. "If you are inclined to have romantic
jitters, try holding a small, rough object such as a tiny comb clutched
in the palm of your hand so tightly that it hurts."

When you’re at dinner, don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu–nor the cheapest. And do NOT flirt with other bikes!

Go for a walk with the bicycle and take his arm, but don’t talk too
much. Do NOT dawdle in front of store displays as you may "bore him
with a touch of commercialism."

Don’t be possessive around his mother and most important, don’t do
anything to make the bicycle think that you are "hopelessly tied at
home," Constance says.

1957_0519_cubby
Now let’s suppose, dear fish, that you have been dating for several
months, keeping in mind your neckline, long walks and the firm rule
that the route to the altar does NOT go through the bedroom (remember,
the sexually satisfied bicycle has no interest in marriage!) But for
some reason, your eligible bicycle is noncommittal.

First, indulge in quiet moments where the conversation grinds to an
uncomfortable halt. When the bicycle asks what’s wrong, be evasive and
hesitant, maybe for an evening, a week or even longer.

Finally, tell your eligible bicycle that you are trying to make a
decision–but do NOT tell him what it’s about. Be wistfully distracted
but still cheerful. Got that?

Usually, this will make a bicycle ask what’s wrong. If he doesn’t, take
the next step and break a few dates. Tell him you’re busy but mention
ever so gently that you are afraid your friendship doesn’t mean
anything to him. Don’t make a scene.

If he brings up his usual list of reasons for not getting married,
listen in silence. "The less you say the more foolish he will seem to
himself, for silence has a way of magnifying the important issues and
minimizing the small ones," Constance says. Don’t seem peeved or hurt!

If he still hasn’t proposed, start making other plans, even if it’s
with your fishfriends. Give a few parties and don’t invite him.

Unless he is an incredibly dim and obtuse bicycle, "when he discovers
that you are leaving him out of your life, most likely he will ask
questions," Constance says.

Here’s where you’ve got him, dear fish. Tell him you’re disappointed
that he hasn’t proposed. You don’t want to see other bicycles, but you
don’t think he is too poor, too busy, too old, too young or too
anything–whatever his feeble excuse is–to get married.

"Tell him that you like him above all men and that he has your first
interest. You would prefer him above all others," Constance says. "But
you want to be fair to him and to yourself, and also practical. Tell
him that you want to know where the friendship is leading."

If he doesn’t pop the question immediately–or very soon–dump him at
any old bike shop, because this is the fish version of a marriage
proposal.

"He is not for you," Constance says. "You should drop the whole so-called romance and work toward new opportunities!"

[Note: I have been unable to find any biographical information about
Kate Constance. "How to Get and Keep a Husband" was published in 1957
by Dorrance and Co., a vanity press. The book has never been reissued,
but is sometimes available from antiquarian book dealers
and on Ebay. HTGAKAH apparently had the subtitle "A Christian Business
Woman’s Answer to One of the Most Perplexing Problems of Our Time,"
that the Mirror did not use.]

[And in case there is any doubt, let me add: As with the horoscopes, this is for entertainment purposes only.–lrh]

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Ask Jane

Sept. 4, 1957
Los Angeles

This is almost beyond belief. "I spit fire with every word and could smack my wife’s head off with my fist–but, hey, I take a bath every day. What’s her problem?"


1957_0904_jane_palmer_2

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Matt Weinstock

Sept. 6, 1957

Matt_weinstockd
Last week while driving between Cortez and Durango, Colo., Paul Weeks turned on the radio to relieve the monotony.

After a while it came through his consciousness that the station, KWIK
in Farmington, N.M., was playing the same song over and over.

The announcer would say that the next number would be Nat Cole or Paul
Weston or the Hi-Lows or Joel Gray, and there would be an occasional
news flash, but the guy kept playing the same tune. Paul has since
identified it as "White Silver Sands" by the Lennon sisters.

This went on for more than an hour, and Paul became increasingly
intrigued, particularly when sounds of someone pounding on a door and a
phone ringing came through the interminable refrain, "When the deep
blue pearly waters wash upon white silver sands."

As he arrived in Durango, the tune was still being beaten to death.
Fascinated, Paul sat in his car for half an hour awaiting the
denouement.

Finally, it came. A different voice broke through and said sharply:

1957_0906_follies
"We wish to apologize for the program you have been hearing for the
last two hours and to announce that Johnny Andrews is no longer
connected with this station."

That’s all Paul knows about it.

Well, maybe so. Me, I’m suspicious, especially of mysteries. I can’t
help thinking Johnny was deliberately creating consternation among his
listeners.

MONTHS AGO, presumably, someone strolling along the north side of 2nd
Street, just west of Main street, eating his lunch decided he didn’t
want the tomato he’d brought along and flung it into the rubble of the
building which had just been removed from the site.

The desolate, gaping excavation is still there. The level part of it is used by the State Highway boys to park their cars.

But lately, a luxuriant tomato plant, unwatered and untended but loaded
with fine green tomatoes, has sprung up out of the brick and debris.

Once they get ripe they won’t be there long. Things get a little hungry around 2nd and Main.


WHILE
selecting a prepared, wrapped sandwich at a Spring Street lunch
counter, Hank Frank came upon one labeled "Mah" and, being a curious
fellow, asked what a Mah sandwich was.

"Meat and pickle," the girl replied. Then she explained, "The meat is
pork shoulder and they can’t call it ham so they call it mah–ham
spelled backward."

Makes sense to me. However, I’ve been feeling a little irrelevant all week.


THE PROLONGED
hot spell isn’t doing people any good. A large lady in
the Valley Ranch Market sighed, "I wish we would have an earthquake."
Manager Paul Anter asked why. "Because," she replied, "it would take my
mind off this terrible heat."


AROUND TOWN
–As Spud Corliss signaled a left turn on Cahuenga Boulevard
and Selma, the strap broke on his wristwatch and it fell into the
street. Several cars passed over it by the time he stopped and
retrieved it but it was undamaged and still running. Spud says he knew
it would be safe–he won it in a national safety contest.

Notice on the Crescent Heights Methodist Church: "People who live right never get left."

Remembered from somewhere:  Nowadays a baseball player not only has to
know how to hit, run, field and throw but he better know how to shave.

Definition for today: An old-timer is a person who remembers when Chavez Ravine was intended as a municipal housing project.

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Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

Sept. 6, 1957

Paul_coates
Sometimes it’s a good idea to holler

Because if you don’t, people don’t hear. Or, at least, they don’t pay attention.


I’ve done a little hollering over the past couple of months
–about a situation which I considered a pretty bad one.

It concerned conditions at County General Hospital.

Too many employees there felt that their services to patients should be regarded as favors, rather than duties.

And, as a result, too many patients were receiving indifferent, insufficient care.

Today, I hope, I’m through hollering.

Because, from reports I’ve received during the past week, lots of
things have been happening. Things which point toward much-improved
conditions at the institution.

There have been people fired.

There have been some changes made to facilitate handling of patients
and to alleviate personnel shortages in certain sections of the
hospital.

1957_0906_palladiumAnd, just last week, the county Board of Supervisors decided that it
should make a check into the situation. The body appointed a special
committee to conduct an investigation.

Before I start pecking away at County General’s treatment last July,
stories illustrating its faults had been popping up in papers for years.

So I claim no credit for having unearthed anything new.

A few days ago, I discussed the hospital’s shortcomings with four of its top officials.

All of them have ideas which could turn General into one of the better hospitals in this area, in spite of its size.

At the meeting, Director Robert J. Thomas told me:

"The hospital has definitely fallen behind.

"In employee development, in modern procedures, in our physical plant, we are not up to date."

He added, however, that things are starting to happen. There are
probably close to a hundred projects and reforms now either started or
in the mill.

A sampling of them:

The present, poorly planned admitting room will receive a $62,000
($444,247.59 USD 2006) face-lifting designed to speed up patient
processing.

Stricter, more organized employee-control methods are being put into practice.

"Before," Thomas said, "we graded a new employee only once–at the end of his six-month probationary period.

"Now, we’ll do it monthly."

To improve patient morale, visitors will be allowed to come to the
hospital every day between 7 and 8 p.m. Previously, visits were
permitted on Wednesday and Sunday afternoons only.

To cut hours of waiting for outpatients, the hospital is setting up a
staggered schedule of appointments in many of its clinics.

Its elevator system is to be overhauled. New X-ray film processing
equipment is being installed to cut the present delay of 45 minutes
down to six or seven. A system to expedite filing and movement of
patients’ charts will be in effect in two or three weeks.

1957_0906_traffic_ad
The plant’s physical problems can’t be solved at once, of course. The
new osteopathic unit isn’t due for completion until the end of the year.

But one problem which is being tackled right now, Thomas said, is the shortage of registered nurses.

A few months ago, there were 214 vacancies.

A recent nationwide "enlistment" campaign by the hospital cut the figure by 80.

"We’re going to make General a better place to work for people who want
some satisfaction out of their jobs," Thomas told me. "And as for the
dead weight–the Civil Service Commission has yet to turn us down on a
request for dismissal of an employee."

The human element in any business is a major one.

If General Hospital can whip some enthusiasm into its personnel, the problem should be well on its way to [being] solved.

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The pride of South Bend

1957_0906_studebaker_3

In case you have never seen one, this car was called a Studebaker. This model was the Silver Hawk.

Studebaker’s West Coast assembly plant was at 4530 Loma Vista Ave. in Vernon. The factory resumed postwar auto manufacturing Oct. 18, 1946. The plant closed indefinitely June 8, 1956. It was producing 64 cars a day.

The site was later occupied by St. Regis Paper.

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Judith Mae Andersen update

Here’s what I heard from Ben Eckart, one of the collectors who has posted a photo of an En-Ar-Co bucket on his website:

The bucket you show was sold by the National Refining
Company between about 1934 and 1950. Their home office was in Cleveland, Ohio
but had distributors all over the Midwest. It would not be unusual for this
bucket to be found in that area. There were probably 100’s of thousands of the
cans manufactured and then used by people for other uses once the oil was used
up.
 
Ben Eckart
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A rambling man

 

1957_0906_speedie

Sept. 6, 1957

Los Angeles

1957_0906_speedie_pix
Kindly, mild-mannered and quiet, The Traveler, 51, was the last person
anyone would suspect of a crime. He seemed more like a Sunday school
teacher, which he had been, or perhaps an itinerant newsman. In fact,
he  had worked at newspapers throughout the West, including jobs as a
reporter, rewrite man and copy editor in Oklahoma City and Salt Lake
City.

But beneath that disarming facade, The Traveler was a bitter,
vindictive man. Wrongly accused of writing a bad check in 1942, "he
determined to revenge himself by becoming a forger," The Times said.
For the next 15 years, The Traveler crisscrossed the nation, writing
half a million dollars in bad checks in nearly every state before being
arrested in Middleburg Heights, Ohio.

A search of his 1949 auto revealed a
printing press, photo equipment, a tape recorder and a detailed list of
his forgeries. At his base of operations in Los Angeles, police found
$100,000 in loot neatly stored in five locked sheds behind the home of
Bernie and Fay Branch, 15416 Monte St., Sylmar.

"Why, he didn’t look like he had that much intelligence," Fay Branch
told detectives.  "I thought he was a real nice guy but a complete
failure in life."

Being nondescript worked to The Traveler’s advantage and he used a
simple but effective method: He always stayed 20 miles from where he
committed his crimes and earned a victim’s trust by paying cash for a
few minor items before making a larger purchase with a bad check for
$65 to $85 ($465.74-$609.05 USD 2006).

A success at crime, The Traveler was hopeless in the business world. At
times, he tried to go straight and ran a hamburger stand and prospected
for uranium, but when those efforts failed, he returned to easy money.
"I was well aware of what I was doing, but it was a conflict between my
conscience and expediency," he said.

"I wasn’t particularly smart. It was just that merchants are so
careless. Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley are among the
toughest places in the country to cash phony checks. Cooperation
between police and merchants is very close," he said.

The Traveler perhaps got careless in Oregon, where Lane County
sheriff’s investigators noticed him staying in a motel about the time a
number of bad checks were reported. Oregon investigators sent his
license plate number to the LAPD for further inquiry.

Although The Traveler wasn’t home, information led Sgt. D.R. Sheldon of
the Valley Division to The Traveler’s storage sheds in Sylmar. In a
cache that eventually measured 6 feet high, 6 feet wide and 100 feet
long, police found photo equipment, canned good, appliances, record
albums, electric guitars and scores of road maps, The Times said, along
with a copy of "How to Use Your Imagination to Make Money." The LAPD
also found information indicating that The Traveler was in Ohio.

The Traveler was convicted in Los Angeles and sentenced to one to 14 years in prison.
Although he used 350 aliases, police said, his real name was Charles
Robert Speedie.

We don’t know what happened after that. The Social Security Death Index
shows that Speedie died June 4, 1988, in Jessup, Ga. But I wonder: Did
he retire or was he at the federal prison there?

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Mystery photo II

See if you can identify this gentleman from The Times photo archives.
(Hint: He’s not Arnold Stang. He’s also not Telly Savalas, Mickey Cohen, Sammy Cahn, Billy Wilder, Mel Blanc, Neil Simon or Jack Dragna).

Mystery_photo_no2_2

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Bernheimer on Pavarotti

Martin Bernheimer reviews Luciano Pavarotti’s recital at Royce Hall, Sept. 25, 1973.

1973_0925_bernheimer_2

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Matt Weinstock

Matt Weinstock

Sept. 5, 1957

Matt_weinstockd
An Altadena family took off recently on a trip to Europe. The other
day, the next-door neighbor, Ed Murray, was advised by his youngster
that a skunk was trapped in the cement crawl hole at the side of the
vacant house.

Now here was a pretty good dilemma. How do you lure a skunk out of a
3-foot well without, uh, retaliation? There was also the possibility
that the skunk might let go with its defense mechanism through the
screen and under the house, where the memory would linger.

First, Ed decided, you feed it. El skunko cagily ate the lettuce and bread he provided.

Then, while the skunk cowered menacingly in a corner, Ed cautiously
slipped a plank down the well and against the side so it could climb
out. Unfortunately, the skunk refused to walk the plank to freedom.
Apparently it was too steep.

Ed delicately dropped several 2x4s into the well and set the plank on
them to decrease the grade. Next morning, 24 hours later, the skunk was
gone.

Ed will never know if he is the neighborhood benefactor or if the skunk was someone’s pet–deodorized.

ONLY IN L.A.–An
elderly woman on a streetcar was reading a homemade scrapbook of
biblical quotations and religious clippings and Mildred Scott of
Bellflower, sitting next to her, feared she was momentarily in for an
impromptu sermon.

And then, furtively, the woman turned the last page and opened a copy of Confidential concealed under the back cover.

Mildred reports sadly that the old gal focused more intently on paradise lost than she had on paradise gained.

A GENTLEMAN who
wished to talk to an editor was intercepted by an office boy, J. Norman
Bollerup, who later wrote in a memo, "He is an exceptional citizen and
was kind enough to explain to me how he stopped the Korean war."

A MAJOR speculation
once Labor Day is passed is what kind of winter it will be and
weather-conscious folk look for signs and portents in such things as
chipmunks walking bowlegged and cows mooing in B-flat.

This is to report that Ernie Maxwell of Idyllwild anticipates it will
be wet and cold. Something about the way the ants are holding their
mouths, he explains.

MISCELLANY–Lt.
Lee Jones is counting the days until Sept. 14, when he will retire from
the LAPD after 28 years, 21 of them in the crime lab, which he helped
make outstanding nationally. Lee is the fellow who can establish
culpability by studying bits of broken headlight glass or a cloth
imprint on a fender after a hit-run accident or tiny twigs in a
suspect’s trouser cuff after a burglary. He plans to teach scientific
investigation at L.A. State.

Jim Bassett saw a sign on a sports car, "Made in Las Vegas–The Hard Way."

[Note: Leeland "Lee" Jones was at the Black Dahlia crime scene and worked many other cases in conjunction with the crime lab’s Ray Pinker. Jones also wrote a book on forensics. Here’s one of  his cases:]

1943_0416_jones_2

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Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

Sept. 5, 1957

Paul_coates
On my desk are some 200 letters, each charging County General Hospital with neglect, indifference and cruelty.

They
were sent to me by former county patients following my recent
reports–both in this column and on television–of some frightening
conditions which existed, and still exist, in the institution.

I believe that the letters were written by sincere people. But I’m not going to print them.

I’m not, because I don’t think it would benefit anyone.

Instead, I’m going to print excerpts from a letter written by a doctor currently employed at General Hospital.

For obvious reasons, I’m not mentioning his name.

"The morning following your latest report," the doctor writes, "there was quite a buzz in the hospital halls.

"The consensus of opinion among the doctors was that the conditions which you presented are essentially true.

"Of
course, there are the usual number of cranks who are unhappy even when
they receive the best of charity, but it is true that many patients
here are neglected.

"The Civil Service bureaucracy is to a great extent the cause.

1957_0905_shoes
"But
the bureaucracy is made up of individual people who are subject to
human traits of the sort which have produced the problem.

"Complex as it is, I  will attempt to analyze the problem.

"The following, I believe, are the reasons and contributing factors for poor patient care at the hospital:

"1–Attitude of the employees toward the patients.

"It
is no secret that many employees are actually aggressive toward
patients. Remarks and conversations can be heard daily, on every floor
of the building, which are resentful of the patients being there.

"2–Not enough help in certain key locations where the patient load is always heavy.

"The admitting room is always crowded and help is insufficient. The X-ray department is another bottleneck.

"3–The hospital facilities are many times overburdened with ineligible patients who seek free medical care.

"Perhaps
these patients are considered eligible by the Social Service
Department, but any outsider who knew their true circumstances would
say ‘No’ to their receiving free medical care.

"This should also include those able to work, but too lazy. Why should they work when charity is so easy to obtain?

"It brings to mind the actual case of a bum who lived by drifting from charity hospital to charity hospital.

"He
had learned to malinger by describing certain symptoms which experience
had taught him would prompt the doctor to keep him in the hospital for
observation.

"He could tell you how the service was in New Orleans, how the food was in Chicago, and so forth.

"4–The type of personnel which applies for Civil Service jobs.

"Time killers often find a good place to kill time in Civil Service. Many employees are putting in time waiting for retirement.

"It’s
difficult to fire a poor employee. This would require close watching to
prove incompetence. The close watching would of necessity be done by a
superior–an older employee who was even closer to retirement, and
perhaps an even better time killer with more experienced years of
loafing behind him.

"A situation like this naturally tends to drive the more competent help away from the hospital.

"5–Poor supervision of employees by superiors.

"Laxity in duties goes uncorrected.

"The chain of authority in many departments is so broken up that it just doesn’t exist in an effective form.

"In
summing up, I should say that while the problem at the hospital is not
new, it seems to be getting worse, rather than better.

"Much of the careless attitude of the lazy employee is learned by other employees and so the contagion spreads unabated."

The doctor’s views aren’t completely shared, of course, by County General Hospital’s administrators.

Tomorrow I’ll report the hospital’s faults, problems and needed corrective measures as seen by the men in charge.

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Confidential–Tells the Facts and Names the Names

Scenes from the Confidential trial:

Sept. 4, 1957, Dorothy Dandridge testifies

Confidential_dandridge_1957_0904_mc
Photograph by Dan McCormack, Los Angeles Times

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Mystery photo

See if you can identify this gentleman from The Times photo archives.
(Hint: He’s not Arnold Stang).

Mystery_photo_no1_2

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Guesses so far: Telly Savalas.

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Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

Sept. 4, 1957

Paul_coates_2
The city of New York stands in armed terror today.

Its terrorists are kids–the children of its adults.

With knives and guns and razors they have sliced and blasted open the heart of the biggest metropolis in the United States.

The terror was a long time coming.

And the cure is probably a long and expensive time away.

It scares me. Even though New York is 3,000 miles away, it scares me.

Partly because I read this week about the juvenile gang murder of an 18-year-old girl on L.A.’s South Side.

Partly because I know our juvenile problem is not lessening.

And partly because I know that we–as a city and a county–are headed
100% in the wrong direction in taking any precautions. And we don’t
seem to care.

Recently, the County Probation Department was the victim of an unfortunate budget slash, apparently inspired by us, the people.

We gave them less money to operate. We granted them no new staff.

And then we told them to take over Juvenile Hall. We tossed them an
extra forestry camp to staff and operate. And we pulled all juvenile
traffic cases away from police agencies and shoved them into their lap.

The added load, of course, makes efficiency a near-impossibility.

But the tragedy is born in what the Probation Department is going to
have to do to meet it, to stretch its already strained staff.

It is going to wipe out its only section focused strictly on prevention.

1957_0902_mirror
And the prevention service it rendered was that of deterring gang warfare.

The section is (by the end of the month, we can use the past tense)
known as Group Guidance. It includes 11 deputy probation officers who
move into juvenile trouble areas and work with the groups of kids we
distastefully refer to as "gangs" and "rat packs."

Recommended case load per officer is two areas. Some officers carry three or four.

Their approach is a broad and intelligent one. They don’t move into an
area with a "meet me here and we’ll start a club" attitude. They’re
pros–highly skilled, highly educated, highly trained.

They work with individual kids as individuals–trying to change the
leaders, to break up the "group-mind" which germinates in gangs.

They also work with community organizations and leaders to get them to
shoulder some of the responsibility and to change their often aloof and
disdainful attitudes toward juvenile troublemakers.

And, though they don’t admit it, they’ve been directly responsible for
breaking down hate barriers between numerous police officers and the
kids.

That, possibly, is the most ticklish and important job of all.

Kids with no respect for police have no respect for law or for society.
And too often our "officers of peace" prefer to employ rousting and
harassing techniques rather than try to find a meeting ground built on
a little understanding.

I have, over the years, watched Group Guidance officers in action.

I’ve considered some of their accomplishments plain miracles.

They work doctors’ hours. They get into the homes. They help the kids’
parents fill out income tax forms. They find jobs for the kids. They
loan them money. They help them out of some embarrassing scrapes.

Yet, all the time they’re working to instill social responsibility into
them, to give them confidence, as individuals and as a group–and to
channel it constructively.

But I’d hate to tell you how much they’re getting paid for their sweat.

Instead, I’ll just say that if they can save just two kids a year from
one-year jail terms they are more than repaying us taxpayers their
salary.

When a Group Guidance officer moves into a new area, he usually finds
that between 50-100% of the kids are on probation and parole.

The duration of his stay is determined by the drop in the percentage.

I remember one officer, Al Collier, who stepped into a rough section
where 75% of juveniles were on probation and parole a few years ago.

When he was pulled out to enter another area, the percentage was down to 10.

Logic dictates that the man not only saved money for our community but also saved some people from very personal grief.

But, when penny pinching’s involved, logic often gets tossed out the window.

Besides, we’ll be needing the money to build bigger and better prisons.

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Remembering Tony Day

The Times, 1970

1970_0705_masthead_2

And I found this, which was far too interesting not to share:

Sept. 26, 1971, by Nick B. Williams

1971_0926

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Oops!

1957_0904_confidential

Sept. 4, 1957

Los Angeles

1957_0904_ohara
On a field trip to Grauman’s Chinese Theater so that the court could visit the notorious Row 35, where Maureen O’Hara’s alleged tryst occurred, jurors discovered that it was really Row 40. Aisle C.

Upon
being shown to the seats, La Guerre Drouet, the juror whose request
prompted the trip, tried to reenact O’Hara’s alleged encounter with a
Mexican lover, cuddling and writhing with an imaginary companion. "For
several moments, the juror turned and tried various poses as he
recalled defense testimony as to what allegedly happened," The Times
said.

Back in court, wearing a blue-striped white cotton dress, turned-up white straw hat and "90-cent pearl earrings," O’Hara
made her entrance, vowing "Up the Irish!" On the stand, she insisted
that the incident never occurred, noting that she was out of the
country when the alleged encounter took place.

Defense Attorney Arthur J. Crowley attacked her testimony on several
fronts. He first tried to show that O’Hara had been out on the town
with Mexican millionaire Enrique Parra. Crowley displayed a news
photograph of the two of them at a nightclub and when O’Hara said she
couldn’t recall where it was taken, Crowley attempted to demonstrate
that her memory was unclear on where the two of them had gone.

When Judge Herbert V. Walker barred that line of questioning, Crowley
examined whether O’Hara had ever been to the Chinese Theater.
O’Hara said she had only gone to the theater for several premieres ("The Robe," September 1953; "Prince Valiant," April 1954), and was always accompanied by a relative.

When a series of questions establishing Parra’s identity concluded in
whether they had ever been to Grauman’s Chinese Theater, O’Hara
replied: "Never!"

1957_0904_dandridgeCrowley’s final effort was to show that publicity from the Confidential
article and the resulting trial had been good for her career. O’Hara
said she hadn’t been offered a job since the story was published (her
next movie was "Our Man in Havana," released in 1959) and described her
daughter Bronwyn crying herself to sleep because children at school
were talking about the scandal.

Dorothy Dandridge
also testified, disputing a purported incident described in the
Confidential story "What Dorothy Dandridge Did in the Woods," involving
white band leader Daniel Terry that supposedly occurred when she was
appearing at Lake Tahoe.

Lake Tahoe placed so many restrictions on African Americans that she
spent most of her time in her suite, Dandridge said. "I worked nights
and slept in the afternoon," she said.

When asked if she had ever ridden in a car with Terry, Dandridge
replied: "I couldn’t have been seen with Mr. Terry in a prejudiced
place like Lake Tahoe."

Fashion note: Dandridge wore a beige linen suit with a white artificial corsage at her shoulder, The Times said.

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Countdown to Watts

Yes, it really happened.

1957_0904_cover

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