Victor Segno–man of mystery

Aha! EBay has  another envelope addressed to A. Victor Segno of the Segno Success Club, 701 N. Belmont.

Segno, author of such books as “The Law of Mentalism,” “How to Be Happy Though Married” and “How to Have Beautiful Hair,” was a mentalist with a simple scam: For a $1 a month, he would send out a mental “success wave” twice a day. And it was quite successful–for him. In a few years, he was able to build an elaborate center in Echo Park (now demolished, apparently).

The Power of Thought
by A. Victor Segno

“I hold it true that thoughts are things
Endowed with bodies, breath and wings,
And that we send them forth to fill
The world with good results–or ill.

That which we call our secret thought,
Speeds to the earth’s remotest spot,
And leaves its blessings or its woes,
Like tracks behind it as it goes.”

“We awaken in another
Just the thoughts our minds contain.
If we’re kind, we win their kindness,
If we hate, they hate again.

We pass on to brother mortals
The vibrations of the soul,
And the knowing ones receive them,
As they search from pole to pole.”

“We build our futures thought by thought,
Or good or bad, and know it not–
Yet so the universe is wrought.

Thought is another name for Fate,
Choose, then, thy destiny and wait–
For love brings love and hate brings hate.”

–The Law of Mentalism, A. Victor Segno, Los Angeles, Calif., 1902

Here’s more about him at the 1947project.

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Valley blaze

 

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1957_0625_fire

 

1957_0625_potter
June 25, 1957
Los Angeles

A 50-foot tower of flames fed by 7,000 gallons of pressurized liquid
propane being transferred from a truck to a storage tank was snuffed by
a 28-year-old man who said it was no big deal.

Gerald D. Potter, a heating fuel executive living at 14847 Lassen, may
have saved a block of businesses at Sepulveda and Oxnard boulevards, as
well as untold lives, but he said: "It would have burned out after
a while anyway."

Potter heard news reports of the blaze on the radio and drove to the
American Butane Co. storage yard, 5919 Sepulveda Blvd. As firefighters
provided a protective cover of spray, Potter turned a total of 10
valves on the tanker truck and in the storage yard to quench the
flames.

The only reported injury was second-degree burns suffered by firefighter Paul B. Ruddick of Engine Co. 39 when he shut off another valve.

Note: The original estimate of 15,000 gallons of propane was later reduced to 7,000 gallons.

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Paul V. Coates–Confidential File

Paul_coates
June 24, 1957

SUBJECT’S NAME: Delbert Wilson Miller.
SUBJECT’S DESCRIPTION: Age, 60.
Height, 5 feet, 10 inches. Weight, 155 pounds. Bald, rim of gray hair.
Glass right eye. Tattoo: "IRMA-DELL" upper right arm. Tattoo of
swastika on left forearm.

Any person with information as to subject’s whereabouts is requested to
contact Sgt. Ketcherside, Missing Persons Section, Los Angeles Police
Department.

Large cities have swallowed up persons before.

But never has a metropolis done a job more thoroughly than it did with Delbert Miller.

Fact and circumstance make his disappearance a near impossibility.

Yet, he’s gone.

And no one, in six months of thorough search, has even a hint as to where or why.

Miller is a blind man. He never left his room at the St. Regis Apartments, 237 S. Flower St., without a friend to guide him.

Yet, on Jan. 17, he walked out alone. And vanished.

I talked last week with Miller’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. LaJune Miller of 2963 Partridge Ave.

She told me many things about the missing subject: his habits, his disposition, his dependency on others.

1957_0624_ad
Which might offer a clue as to his whereabouts. I don’t know.

Miller, his daughter-in-law told me, was an independent sort of man.
But age had mellowed his quick temper. And blindness had limited his
activities.

"My husband and I tried several times to get him to live with us," she
said. "But he’d always go back to Flower St. That’s where all his old
cronies were."

Sometimes, she said, he’d stay with them for a month or so, but always,
with a firm, "I’m just in your road here," he’d return downtown.

And have dinner with his son and daughter once or twice a week.

Mrs. Miller and her husband carefully traced the final known movements of the missing man. So did the police.

It was learned that he left his room on the morning of Jan. 17 to shop at Grand Central Market with a friend.

The friend later reported that he returned as far as the Third Street
tunnel with Miller. Then Miller said he could find his way alone and
they parted.

But Miller reached his room. He put his groceries on the table, stepped out, locked the door, and was never again seen.

The rotting groceries and meat were found a few days later.

"It was like he was planning on coming right back," said Mrs. Miller.

She and her husband spent the next six weeks in the neighborhood.

"We’d drive over in the early evening. Sometimes we’d knock on doors,
asking questions. Sometimes we’d approach strangers on the street.
They’d look at us like we were crackpots.

"And sometimes, around midnight, we’d drive home and no sooner would we get there than my husband would say to me:

" ‘Let’s go back. Maybe he’ll be there.’

"And we’d go back and look and wait some more–until 2 or 3 in the morning."

Meanwhile, the police continued a thorough investigation.

They checked relatives, hospitals, hotels, mental hygiene clinics, the
FBI. They, too, quizzed neighbors. They distributed circulars and
placed his fingerprints on FBI file.

Mrs. Miller found one possible clue–but so far it’s done no good.

"The landlady told me," she said, "that a stranger came asking for my father-in-law just three days before he disappeared.

"He was a tall, slender gentleman, well dressed and in his 40s."

I asked her about the swastika tattoo on Miller’s arm.

"Oh, he was so ashamed of it. He’d had it for years–long before
Hitler–and he used to talk quite often about having it removed.

"Just because of it, he’d always wear long-sleeved shirts."

Before we finished our conversation Mrs. Miller admitted, hesitantly,
that in desperation she had gone to a fortuneteller for help.

"I don’t believe in them, but I had no place else to go."

"What," I asked, "did the fortuneteller say?"

"That we’d hear from him very soon," she answered.

"But that–that was over two months ago."

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Now showing!

June 24, 1957
Los Angeles

Now playing at the Million Dollar: "Tropicana" and  "Serenata en Mexico."

1957_0624_million_dollar

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Seven Samurai

Trivia note: Akira Kurosawa’s "Seven Samurai" premiered in Los Angeles at the late Linda Lea Theater in 1956.

1957_0624_samurai

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Literary diversions

Ross Macdonald, Jan. 15, 1972

Part 1
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Part 2
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Part 3
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Part 4
1972_0115_macdonaldd

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Dead end

 

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June 24, 1957
Los Angeles

Police Capt. Walter R. Koenig was out walking his dog in the 5500 block of Green Oak Drive, where it dead ends in the Hollywood Hills, when he found Baby Boy Doe. 

He was 1 to 3 months old, and someone had wrapped him in blankets and
put him in a cardboard box. An animal discovered Baby Boy Doe and
dragged him out. "Police said the baby’s legs are missing and one
appears to have been cleanly severed with a sharp instrument," the
Mirror said. He had been dead three or four days.

Koenig told investigators he had seen a young couple in the area a week
earlier. When he questioned them about what they were doing, the man
asked for directions and they left, Koenig said.

Rest in peace, Baby Boy Doe.

Koenig joined the LAPD in 1938, a watershed year in Los Angles
politics because it marked the recall of Mayor Frank Shaw and the
reform administration of Fletcher Bowron.
In 1964, he became the police chief in
Torrance. In 1969, shortly before reaching retirement age, Koenig accepted a teaching job at Georgia State
University.

In an extremely rare honor for a police officer, the American Civil
Liberties Union paid tribute to Koenig with its Courage of Conviction
award. "As chief of police, Koenig, while enforcing the law firmly and
fairly, always displayed an awareness of the rights of the individual
as embodied in the Constitution," the ACLU said.

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Refugees




1957_0623_weidner_hed


1957_0623_weidner June 23, 1957
Pasadena

John, 42, runs a health food store on North Lake Street in Pasadena and lives at 861 Elizabeth St.,
The Times says in a feature story. Born in Holland, he is like many
Europeans who came to America after World War II.  "I love it here," he
says. "You have a spirit of freedom and liberty which is lost in
Europe." 

But the man behind the counter at the health food store is
different from most Americans in several ways: He’s a Seventh-day
Adventist. He’s a member of the Order of the British Empire. He holds
the French Croix de Guerre, the U.S. Medal of Freedom and the Dutch
Order of Orange-Nassau.

His name is John Henry Weidner and for his heroism in saving more than
1,000 people from the Nazis, he will eventually be honored by Israel as
one of the Righteous Among Nations. John’s life makes for quite a
story. His father, a Dutch Reformed minister, and sister died in
concentration camps and John was tortured by the Gestapo, escaping from
the Nazis five times.

But what interests us about him now is something other than his actions during the war.

Let’s jump ahead 10 years. One of his regular customers, a woman
named Mary, will ask John to hire her son as a stocker and delivery
boy. He’s a troubled young man and like John, a refugee–an Arab
Christian from Jerusalem who is having a hard time fitting into
American society. He’s had a few odd jobs, but nothing has worked out.
Since he’s a small man, he even tried being a jockey at Santa Anita,
but ended up filing a disability claim because he suffered a head
injury when he was thrown by a horse.

Mary, a member of the Greek Orthodox Church, had taken her son to St.
Nicholas, the Syrian Orthodox Cathedral, in Los Angeles; First Nazarene
of Pasadena; and finally First Baptist Church of Pasadena, where she
enrolled her son in Sunday school and a group for teenagers. The
Baptists sponsored Mary’s older sons for entry into the U.S. But the
young man didn’t like the Pasadena Baptist church, saying that the
other teenagers were too frivolous in a place intended for reading the
Bible and praying.

John will hire the young man and discover that he is bright, pleasant
and witty, eager to please and so honest that John will trust him to
handle some of the store’s banking. The only problem is that the young
man is extremely sensitive to anything that seems like criticism.

"He
had a lot of pride, a lot of arrogance," John’s wife, Naomi, will say.
"We were always careful how we gave him an order. If you gave him an
order he didn’t like he became very resentful."

Still, John will reach out to the young man whenever he has a spare
moment at the store. But the young man will be a test. "I would like to
be like you but I cannot," he will tell John. "There is no God. You see
in Israel what happens to the Arab. There is no God. How can you have a
God?"

The young man and John will also argue over the Six-Day War, comparing
Israel’s victory to the actions of the Nazis. "You think Jews can’t be
cruel too?" he will ask John.

Eventually, there will be a dispute. John will insist that there was a
misunderstanding and try to make amends, but the young man will be
adamant and quit his job.

Shortly after that, on a night in June that’s the first anniversary of
the Six-Day War, the young man will go to the Ambassador Hotel, where
Democratic presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy is celebrating his
victory in California primary.

Sirhan Sirhan, who once earned $2 an hour as a stock boy at John
Weidner’s Pasadena health food store, will be waiting in the pantry of
the Ambassador Hotel’s kitchen–with a .22-caliber, eight-shot Iver
Johnson
revolver.

1957_0623_sirhan

"I think he was a man of revolt," John will say of Sirhan. "He was a
kind of anarchist against society, against law and order, against those
who possess. Against those who have more than he has and are more
successful in life."

"In America, freedom does not exist,"  Sirhan told John.  "I agree with the violence." 

John H. Wiedner died in 1994. He once said: "During my father’s lifetime he taught me, my family, his
parishioners and the community that the most important quality in a human
being was to love, respect and treat our fellow man as we wished to be
loved, respected and treated.   

"I was a witness to the barbaric treatment of the Jews by the Nazis. I
personally observed the crushing of the skull of a Jewish infant who was
torn out of the arms of its mother. I was determined to heed
the teachings and example of my father and I did everything that I could
to save as many lives as possible."

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Saturday morning cartoons

 

1957_engineer_bill

It’s Engineer Bill on the Cartoon Express! (But who is Skipper Frank? That’s a new one on me).

Here’s a couple of Bob Clampett cartoons:

"Porky in Wackyland," 1938. Wiki entry here.

"Russian Rhapsody," 1944. Wiki entry here.

Disney’s "Der Fuehrer’s Face," 1943.  Wiki entry here.

And Chuck Jones’ "What’s Opera Doc," 1957. Wiki entry here.

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Matt Weinstock

Matt_weinstockd
June 22, 1957

By now, presumably, people who voted for the $40,000,000 bond issue to
extend the city’s park and recreation system and expand the zoo know
that $2,000,000 of the money will go for roads into Chavez Ravine,
where someday the Brooklyn Dodgers may have a ballpark.

Apparently many of them didn’t know it on election day.

In fact, they were unaware of this allocation until the matter came
before the City Council this week and was steam-rollered through there
too.

Suddenly, indignation has taken hold.

A woman writes:

"I can’t figure the voters. Maybe they live in boxcars and pay no
taxes. Maybe their kids can pick up the tab. My husband and I sweat
blood to get our house paid for. But, oh boy, we’ve got to have more
taxes, no matter how unjustified, just so the politicians can take a
bow on bringing major league baseball to Los Angeles. I feel like a
dancing bear with a ring through my nose."

Another letter:

"That was a real sneaky job, letting the taxpayers foot part of the
bill to bring the Brooklyn Dodgers, a private, moneymaking enterprise,
to Los Angeles."

Another:

"No one has asked my opinion about the baseball situation in L.A. But here it is: Dodgers go home!"

ONE OF THE big problems of the day is what’s going to happen to backyard incinerators when they’re outlawed.

The other day, G.B., a Hollywood apartment dweller, put the question to the landlady:

"I’m going to leave it exactly as it is," she said firmly. "About the
time I’d get it torn down the Supreme Court will declare the law
unconstitutional. I figure the people who make incinerators aren’t
going to give up without a fight. They’ll take their case to the
highest court in the land."

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Sketchbook

June 22, 2007
Los Angeles

I got on the Red Line at the 7th and Figueroa station last night to
find two teenage boys with skateboards at one end of the car. They
called out an odd warning for all of us to keep our feet out of the
aisle. "This is a dangerous car," they warned. We soon found out the
reason. One of the boys was sitting astride his skateboard and as we
left the station, the forward motion sent him shooting down the length
of the car.

He did the same thing when the car came to a stop, shooting back to the
front. This continued at each stop until the boy hit someone, thus
ending the game until they got to Union Station.

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Melchior robbers caught

June 22, 1957
Los Angeles
 

Wayne Burke, Richard McFall and Alfred J. Pope fled into the night in what they thought was a clean getaway.

McFall said: “Burke and I got in my car and J. [Pope] took furs and jewelry and guns and hats, masks and gloves and so forth and we were to meet at Johnny Heath’s apartment or bungalow or motel, whatever it was.

“So we drove–Burke and I drove together and we got there 10 or 15 minutes prior to the time that J. arrived. And I had a few items in my pocket of jewelry. Pill cases. Like a compact, something like that, and I don’t believe Burke had any kind of jewelry. He had the money. So we divided the money up there. He and I divided the money and gave J. some of it. $30 or $40, something like that. Burke and I wound up with around $100 apiece.

“We discussed who was going to try and fence the stuff, or who was going to fence it and everything, and everything that had diamonds in it, plus the  one emerald ring we put it out there, and I was–I wanted to divide the stuff; let it go. Burke to either take and fence it all or I will. I didn’t have any place to fence it and he said he did, so he took every piece that was worth anything. All the diamonds and the emerald.

“Originally [Burke] wanted to sit on it, and wait for, I don’t know, a month or few weeks, or something until it cooled off. He thought he would get a better price. Everybody was pressed for money, so he made an agreement. He would go ahead and contact this fence the next day or same night or something to see what he could do to get rid of most of the stuff.”

McFall said: “Later on I gave Spivak five or 10 bucks or something. That was all he wound up with.” Spivak also apparently got a box of cigars.

But on June 19, 1957, the victims identified Burke’s photograph. He was arrested the next day at 7023 1/2 La Tijera and identified by the victims.

“At first he denied any knowledge of the robbery whatsoever,” Police Chief William H. Parker wrote, “but there were indications that he was involved. He did indicate that if possible he would like to cooperate, mainly to protect his wife and young baby, which was approximately one week old at the time.

“Mr. Manley Bowler, assistant district attorney, county of Los Angeles, was contacted and agreed that if Burke would cooperate fully in the recovery of property and testify as a witness for the prosecution, in return he would be granted immunity for his participation in the robbery.”

At 5 a.m. on June 19, there was a knock at Pope’s door. It was Burke–and a police officer. Burke asked Pope for the furs, which Pope had hidden underneath a sofa. Pope was arrested and Burke began helping officers recover the stolen items, which were spread over Los Angeles.

Later that day, McFall stopped at a liquor store to buy some cigarettes and heard a radio broadcast saying that two men had been arrested in the Melchior holdup. The LAPD’s Inspector Ed Walker mentioned McFall by name as being wanted in the robbery.

Abandoning his Chrysler in the parking lot of the Tyler Hotel, McFall had a friend take him to San Fernando, caught a bus to Bakersfield, then another bus to San Francisco and checked in at the Mentone Hotel.

With his cash running out, McFall began trading some of the jewelry for money. He drifted from San Francisco to Reno, to Ogden, Utah, and eventually ended up in Missoula, Mont.

Spivak, meanwhile, panicked when he saw his picture with the news stories about the Melchior robbery.

Spivak said: “I checked out of the hotel. I rushed out. I figured it was only a matter of time. Now that he [McFall] was mentioned and they knew McFall was in the hotel and they knew McFall had brought me over to the hotel. I said: ‘The cops will be here any minute to grab me,’ so I just ran and besides I had these checks out for the television sets and stuff and I said ‘Gee, I got to get out of here quick.'”

Spivak and Howard “Blackie” Nichols spent a night in a hotel on Flower Street, then moved to the El Rey Hotel. Unable to sleep, Spivak fled, abandoning Nichols at the hotel.

Spivak said: “I was going up to the room and I saw a door open and a head stick out and I thought they were watching for me, that somebody had noticed my picture in the paper because my picture had been there in the paper, but this time–and I figured somebody might have recognized me, so instead of going to my room, I took the first staircase downstairs and checked out. I didn’t even check out, didn’t stop at the desk or anything. I just left.”

He spent a night in a hotel on Alvarado, then two nights in Santa Monica. Finally, Spivak bought a bus ticket to Oakland and got a room at the Harrison Hotel. He bought a Hudson automobile in Oakland and two nights later, he checked into the Lyric Hotel in San Francisco. He stayed a week at the Governor hotel, then spent a night in Reno. The Hudson broke down on the way back from Reno, so he sold it for scrap and bought a bus ticket to San Francisco, where he was arrested Aug. 3, 1957.

Meanwhile, McFall met another addict, Frank Arriola, in San Francisco. Arriola introduced McFall to Shirley Zusa, whose boyfriend, one of McFall’s drug sources, was in prison.  McFall and Zusa went to Reno and then came back to the Bay Area. McFall stayed in Oakland because police had been to his room in San Francisco looking for him. Zusa took off for a rehab clinic in Los Angeles, leaving her car with McFall.

McFall went to Reno, where he spent a week in bed taking prescription drugs and using paregoric, which contains morphine. From there, he spent about 10 days in Ogden, picking apricots, then went to Missoula. He was arrested Aug. 10, 1957.


McFall said of his arrest: “The car had been parked there all night and all during the day or most of the day with the exception of the time I drove over to a doctor…. I was all full of cement. In fact, I didn’t have a change of clothes. I left everything with Shirley in the same bag.

“I went to Penney’s I think it was, and I bought this pair of Levi’s and I had this clean shirt, and I had clean underwear. I bathed at night after coming back from work.

“The next day I went up and bought this. Saturday morning. Bought the Levi’s and what-not, and I went down to Park Hotel Cafe, and had a milkshake, and I talked to the waitress.

“When I came back–I didn’t know exactly what time it was, but I presume there was some time left before time passed where you didn’t have to put money in the meter. I stepped up and put a couple pennies in the meter and Bud Lamaroux L-a-m-a-r-o-u-x, drove up and asked if it was my car. A police sergeant. I knew he was a policeman. I saw the car. And he radioed for some other cars. We stood there and talked–was it my car, and I told him no, it belonged to a friend. By that time a couple other patrol cars, radio cars, had come up and they searched me and handcuffed me. He looked in the car and reached up under the seat; the gun was in the car. He got that out.”

On June 25, 1957, the Los Angeles County Grand Jury indicted Wayne Burke, Richard McFall, Alfred J. Pope and Louis Spivak in the Lauritz Melchior robbery. Pope and McFall pleaded guilty to robbery Nov. 20, 1957. McFall was given five years to life in prison, Pope was given six months in jail.

On Dec. 3, 1957, Spivak was found guilty of  kidnapping as well as robbery. Although he wasn’t present when the crime occurred, Spivak was given the heaviest sentence imposed on any of the men: five years to life in prison, with a minimum term of seven years.

All charges against Burke were dropped because he cooperated with authorities and aided in the return of the property.

Note: I would like to thank retired Police Capt. Ed Jokisch for providing materials on the Melchior case.

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Van Gogh show

1957_0622_van_gogh_lax

June 22, 1957
Los Angeles

Are you kidding me? Is that Van Gogh’s "Portrait of Dr. Gachet" … on the ground? …at LAX?

Why it certainly is.

The
Times described the exhibit at Barnsdall Park as the first major
showing of Van Gogh’s works in Southern California. The show, which ran
from July 3 to Aug. 4, 1957, was presented by the Municipal Arts
Department in cooperation with the Wildenstein Galleries of New York.

The
show featured 38 paintings, drawings and prints by Van Gogh, The Times
said, including "The Zouave" (Van Gogh did several and it’s unclear
which one was in Los Angeles), "L’Arlesienne," "La Berceuse"
and something titled "Cypress and the Flowering Tree" that I cannot
readily identify. Almost as an afterthought, The Times mentioned that
the exhibit also featured works by Degas, Gaugin and Renoir.

1957_0622_van_gogh02_2

Now
if you thought it was scary to have an original Van Gogh out in the
smoggy air of 1957 Los Angeles, take a look at the gallery, which
appears to be some sort of converted greenhouse. Tell me that’s not a glass
ceiling. Tell me that’s not sunlight beating directly down on the
paintings. Please.

Whew, it’s not.

But the gallery is still not great.
According to a letter to The Times complaining about the show, the
exhibit was staged in a building with a translucent ceiling that made
it miserably warm for the viewers–so much for climate control.

Aha.
A little research shows that the gallery was designed in 1953 by Frank
Lloyd Wright for a 1954 exhibit of his architectural drawings and models, and erected next to
Hollyhock House. It was later suggested that the translucent roof on
the building be covered with aluminum paint to reduce the heat. The
building was demolished in the late 1960s. The current Municipal Art Gallery, desighed by Stephens and Wehmueller, opened in 1971. 

The Van Gogh show was extremely popular, with visitation averaging
1,650 a day. The exhibit was kept open to 10 p.m. to accommodate the
crowds, with 3,979 attending on the final day. Total visitation was
59,061, according to Municipal Arts Department Director  Kenneth Ross,
shown in the top photo at left with guard Gerald Roggeman.

ps. The first version of "Portrait of Dr. Gachet" sold in 1990 for $82.5 million. Its whereabouts are unknown. 

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Exodus

 

1957_0621_methodists

1957_0621_churchJune 21, 1957
Los Angeles

If there was ever a headline that said: "Do Not Read Me," it would be "Chain-Reaction Tithing Adopted by Methodists."

The real news, buried down in the story, is that the Southern
California-Arizona Conference of Methodists was going to appoint an
African American minister to head a white congregation. The minister
was not identified, but church officials said he would be assigned to
Normandie Avenue Methodist, 3792 S. Normandie, a once-thriving church established in 1908 that was struggling to survive.

The Rev. L.L. White of the church’s Urban Life Committee, said: "We
share with our Latin American brothers that this conference has been
called of God to set a pattern of integration for the rest of the
church. To do this we must move beyond the superficial aspects of
integration. We must see our relationship to each other not as a
problem but as an opportunity to discover some new dimensions for our
souls."

A little further digging shows that this was the second local white
Methodist congregation to be headed by a black minister, the first
being Lincoln Avenue Methodist Church of Pasadena.

In the true spirit of Christian fellowship, most of the white
congregation abandoned Normandie Avenue upon learning of the
appointment of the Rev. Nelson Burlin Higgins Jr., an ordained Baptist
minister.  Not content with merely leaving, the white Methodists
removed most of the furniture on the pulpit, which had been donated as
memorials to various members of the congregation.

Apparently this was no surprise, except to us living in the modern era. The neighborhood around Normandie Avenue Methodist was 27.5%
to 84% black, but the church refused to accept African American members,
although black children were allowed to attend Sunday school, The
Times says.

No, I’m not kidding.

Fortunately, the furniture for the pulpit was replaced with items
salvaged from Bethany Methodist Church, 1025 W. Olympic, which was
demolished for the Santa Monica Freeway.

"I am confident we can reverse the trend of the past 20 years and climb
back up to a peak membership much more swiftly than the course down,"
Higgins said. At Higgins’ first service,
1,000 people crowded into the sanctuary, the social hall, the
basketball court and milled around outside. In 1959, baseball player
Duke Snider spoke at the church about integration in sports.

But by 1961, The Times says, Normandie Avenue Methodist was all-black
and had a new minister, the Rev. Alexander C. Austin, who replaced  the
Rev. Wilbur Johnson, Higgins’ successor.

There were still some whites listed as members, but they never
attended, Austin said. Although he hoped Normandie Avenue would become
integrated, Austin said, "It’s one of those things that will have to
work itself out. The more you force it, the worse it gets. It will have
to work itself out."

Nelson Burlin Higgins died in Los Angeles in 1984 at the age of 67.

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William Parker, Part 5

 

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June 21, 1957
Los Angeles

William Parker, below left, and Jack Webb. Note that Parker says he would have never given permission for "Dragnet," which was initially approved in the Clemence "C.B." Horrall administration.

On July 16, 1966, Parker suffered a heart attack after receiving an award from the 2nd Marine Division Assn. during a banquet at the Statler Hilton Hotel. He died 35 minutes later at the age of 64.

His obituary includes this quote: "Man is the most predatory of all (in) the animal kingdom. He must have restraints."

There are those, especially officers I know who served under him, who say that if Parker were alive he would still be police chief (they often add that Eugene Biscailuz would still be sheriff). One of the most vivid remarks I ever heard about Parker came from the late federal Judge David Williams, the first African American on the federal bench west of the Mississippi. During an interview, Williams called Parker: "The king of bastards."

You don’t hear federal judges talking like that every day–certainly not on the record.

 

 

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Part 1

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Part 2

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Retro moment

The Puppini Sisters…  Here’s a video with some nice (uncredited) retro animation. 

Enjoy! 

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A blast

The Huntington-USC Institute on California and the West
is hosting a two-day conference in August on the history of the
aerospace industry in Southern California. Speakers will include
writers, historians, pioneers in the aerospace industry and military
officials.

"Rocket Science and Region" will be held Aug. 3-4, 8:30 a.m. to 4:30
p.m. at the Huntington. Cost is $40. Information is available from
kmatsuna@usc.edu.

Here’s a list of the institute’s upcoming programs.

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Ay caramba!

Update: The 1957 Chevrolet featured earlier this month in the post about decoding production numbers sold on EBay for $35,999. That is some serious change. How much? About $5,024.09 USD 1957.

Let’s check in with Weird Al.

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Battling movie stars

 

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June 20, 1957
Los Angeles

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For battling Hollywood celebrities, it’s hard to surpass Shelley Winters
and Anthony Franciosa. They were only married a few years, but they
made up for it in brawls between themselves, other actors (like Ava
Gardner) and the press.

In
this instance, Franciosa was given 10 days in jail for kicking
Herald-Express photographer William Walker on April 19 after a court
appearance.

Franciosa and Winters were trying to bid on a house
at 618 Hillcrest Drive, Beverly Hills, and Franciosa objected to being
photographed because he was still married to his wife, Beatrice, who
was in Reno getting a divorce.  Franciosa was wrestled to the ground
and arrested after kicking Walker as Winters cried and sobbed: "Please
don’t have him arrested! You’ve ruined our lives!"

He was
originally sentenced to 90 days in jail and a $250 fine, but the judge
agreed to give him two years’ probation if Franciosa spent 10 days in
jail. The actor fought the sentence in court–in proceedings that
revealed a record of arrests for theft and intoxication–before
beginning his term on Dec. 12, 1957.

Winters and Franciosa
were married in May 1957. In April 1958, Franciosa suffered a 2-inch
cut behind his ear when Winters threw a perfume bottle at him. Then in August the Italian press reported that there
was a brawl between Winters and Ava Gardner over rumors of Gardner’s
involvement with Franciosa while filming "The Naked Maja." (Not true, Winters said. They were all good friends. Gardner was curiously silent about the matter).

In July 1960, Winters sued for a legal separation, and filed for divorce in November. The wild ride was over.

Shelley Winters died Jan. 14, 2006.

Anthony Franciosa died five days later. 

"I would be prefer to be judged my work alone," Franciosa said in 1961.
"It’s nobody’s business what I’m like except the people I have to live
with or work with."

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William Parker, Part 4

June 20, 1957
Los Angeles

Classic moments in Los Angeles history: The Sammy Rummel shooting, the "two Tonys murder" and "Bloody Christmas."

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Part 1

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Part 2

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