Note: In early 1957, The Times sent UCLA professor Robert G. Neumann
on a six-week tour of the Middle East. Neumann, who was later the U.S.
ambassador to Afghanistan and Morocco, wrote these stories upon his
return. His son, Ronald, is U.S. ambassador to Afghanistan.
Part 16, March 27, 1957
May 22, 1957
A group of newspapermen yesterday were discussing the angry outbursts
which have filled the air following a certain telecast–and the irony
thereof.
Over the years, sensitive public officials and law enforcement officers
have been wary of newspapermen because they occasionally touched on
sore subjects in print.
More mature public servants, of course, accepted, ignored or laughed off such typographical embarrassment.
But the sensitive gentlemen turned in relief to the big eye in the
living room for consolation and what appeared a more favorable display
of their deeds.
In recent months, however, some TV personalities, anxious to extend
their audiences, have thrown off all restraint in presenting scandalous
material.
Now those public officials realize they never had it so good as when
they dealt fairly with the press. Newspapermen omitted turning over
many rocks under which lurked ugly facts on the grounds of libel,
responsibility and good taste.
With the irresponsible TV boys, however, and there are only a few, the sky’s apparently the limit.
"None for the Road," 1957
Bad things happen when Jerry Landon comes home from college–and to the lab rat that’s the heavy drinker. Featuring the Aetna Drive-a-Trainer.
The women’s page. Note the "early American" ashtrays and telephone stands. And closing the Mexican border to juveniles? Well, that might cut into business at the Half-Way House. A swimsuit and Ray-Bans? Classic 1950s.
May 22, 1957
Give or take a match, professional boxing in all of Southern California
has been almost totally in the hands of gloved warriors of Mexican
descent for, say, the last 25 years.
This monopoly, if you want to call it such, is no mere accident. It is
no scheme on the part of anyone, much less promoters. It is no design
of convenience, period.
Mexican fighters, born here or yonder, possess a peculiarity which,
with the possible exception of glovers of Irish ancestry, isn’t always
typical of battlers in general.
That peculiarity, my friends, is very basic. It consists of one utterly simple fact: Integrity to the fullest extent.
Translate this into Cauliflower Alley language and they’ll tell you,
quite candidly, that those "Mexican kids are all action, plenty of guts
with never a thought about tank jobs."
One quick glance at the recent past of top-rated Mexican ring stars will bear out the contention.
Look at Tampico-born Baby Arizmendi. Or Mexico City-born Rodolfo Casanova. Or Los Angeles-born Manuel Ortiz. Or Durango-born Enrique Bolanos.
Or Mexico City-born Raul (Raton) Macias and Ricardo (Pajarito) Moreno. Or Laredo-born Kid Azteca.
All of them individuals who enriched and never tarnished the sometimes
shadowy profession of I-punch-you, you-punch-me, let’s-get-paid.
Even now, when old aficionados of the boxing game sadly shake their
heads to moan the fact that "the game ain’t what it usta be," Mexican
fighters–particularly those of the Mexico City crop–keep sticking out
their heads to proudly proclaim that theirs is no dying sport.
For proof, look at your calendar and mark the date of May 23 (when "Pajarito" Moreno and Jose Luis Cotero
clash) as a date when Los Angeles will see perhaps the greatest battle
of featherweight fury cooked up here since Arizmendi’s heroic duels
versus Henry Armstrong.
But, now, the inevitable question mark surrounding the overwhelming participation of Mexicans in pro boxing.
Is there a reason why there should not be, in professional boxing
circles, a referee, a judge, a commissioner of Mexican extraction?
Tonight, under the joint sponsorship of the Council of Mexican Affairs
and the local chapter of the American GI Forum, the absence of
officials of Mexican extraction from boxing circles in California comes
up for serious discussion and comment.
Attorney Henry Lopez and Frank X. Paz will conduct proceedings which, needless to say, will be highly interesting.
Prominent personalities from the sports and civic world will await the sound of the gong at 8 p.m. at Casa del Mexicano.
The eight-second mandatory count will not be in effect. Not even for
Pepe, who’ll be there wearing 60-ounce gloves. And plenty of collodion.
I’ll be my own referee. Gracias.
Note: I recently received this request for information–lrh
I was living in South-Central Los Angeles in the early 1960s and
attending Lillian Street Elementary School. My sister and I walked home
with her friend Cassie, who stood out among the predominantly Hispanic
and African American neighborhood. She was very blonde and blue-eyed,
and about 9 or 10 years old Her dad lived off of 65th avenue and drove a
catering truck for a living, always giving us leftover donuts that he
did not sell that day.
The police came to our house late in the
afternoon, saying she never made it home. We had walked with her to 64th
Street where we lived and then she walked on.
I would like to know more
about what happened; if the case was ever solved. I have never been able
to even find an article on this on the Internet, but the sheriffs did
tell me about 15 years ago that the case was never solved.
Can you find
out more about her, her last name or any possible leads? It has haunted
me all these years. Her family moved out of state after the kidnapping,
I think there were four kids in the family.
Thanks
Lydia Butler
The Los Angeles Police Commission protests the Mickey Cohen broadcast, May 22, 1957
From the City of Los Angeles Archives
Note: In early 1957, The Times sent UCLA professor Robert G. Neumann
on a six-week tour of the Middle East. Neumann, who was later the U.S.
ambassador to Afghanistan and Morocco, wrote these stories upon his
return. His son, Ronald, is U.S. ambassador to Afghanistan.
Part 15, March 26, 1957
May 21, 1957
The note was found next to the man’s body. It was addressed to the dead man’s sister.
"Dear Fanny," it read. "I am sorry to say goodbye, but it is best this way. I leave all I got, clothes and other items, to you.
"The Social Security money will pay final expenses. You take care of it.
"My best to all of you. Your loving brother, Paul."
Police who searched Paul’s apartment found one lone penny, plus many
matchbooks and other giveaway items bearing the names of Gardena
gambling establishments.
They learned through investigation that the man had been gambling,
almost compulsively, for many weeks and his losses were heavy.
The story of Paul’s suicide appeared in the papers three months ago. [Note: I was unable to locate it–lrh]
And I know at least two men who clipped it out and saved it.
Because they–one a carpenter, the other a salesman–brought me the clippings yesterday.
"I wish," said the carpenter, "that we could have known the man. We might have been able to help him."
"How?" I asked.
The carpenter answered: "Just by knowing him and talking to him. He had
the same problem we once had, and after all, we helped ourselves. Just
by becoming acquainted with our own kind of people."
Then the carpenter gave me a brief account of the last 20 years of his life:
"I first became interested in the horses in about 1936. And by 1939 I
was hooked. That’s when I started making a habit out of missing work or
taking afternoons off, saying I was sick–and then racing out to the
track.
"But it wasn’t long before that became too boring. So I moved to
Reno–family and all–where I could bet all four tracks at the same
time. I’d be listening to the race calls and playing cards at the same
time."
The salesman’s story was different.
"With me, it was cards. For 10 years solid, I played."
He mentioned, as an example, one poker session in Seal Beach.
"I got there Friday afternoon," he said, "with my paycheck–just like
always. And I sat on that chair for 50 hours straight. I ate a little,
but I didn’t even get up to go to the men’s room.
"The only reason I finally quit was because the game broke up."
I asked what changes gambling made in his life and he laughed.
"Everything. When I’d get my paycheck I’d refuse to use it for food,
clothes or a good car. I had to have it to gamble, and I dressed like a
bum and ate crackers and cheese.
"I was physically shot and lost interest in everything. I began having
serious marital troubles and my friends–well, we just didn’t have
anything in common anymore."
It was, said the carpenter, just about the same with him. He had tried to quit a number of times.
"But you finally did quit," I said. "When?"
"About three years ago. I knew a few others who wanted to quit and we
used to talk about it together. Finally, with two other men, I made an
agreement that we’d call each other every time we got the urge.
"So, when one man phoned another, the second would say, ‘Wait for me and
I’ll go with you.’ Then we’d get together and talk until the urge left."
It worked. The group assumed the name Gamblers Anonymous and took in a few more members.
"Naturally," explained the carpenter, "we can’t help anybody who doesn’t want help."
The salesman is one of the latest. He joined six months ago.
"I had even tried psychiatric help before that," he told me. "No luck.
I had to find somebody who lived my problem just like I did–and who
could understand me."
The salesman recalled that the first time he met the carpenter they
reminisced about old Gamblers’ Alley in Reno–a narrow alleyway behind
the clubs where men in tattered clothes would rush up to strangers to
plead for half a buck to try again.
"When I left him that night I said to myself:
"At last, I met a gambler who doesn’t gamble. That’s what I am going to be.
"So you can see," he concluded, "that for all of us it’s strictly a matter of self-preservation."
Mirror critic Hal Humphrey’s take on the Mickey Cohen-Mike Wallace affair.
To Whom It May Concern:
My name is Linda Pyne and I am writing on behalf of my husband, Richard D. Pyne.
As an infant he was abandoned by his parents.
He did know that his mother was murdered in Los Angeles and knew the
year that she died as he did have a copy of the death certificate.
Through research of a friend he did learn who killed her and where it
took place.
According to the death certificate this happened on 8/15/56. Yes, I
know this was 51 years ago, but he needs to put closure on this matter.
If possible we would like to find out if there were any more newspaper
articles on this matter and would like to find out what happened to the
accused man, John Federoff.
I will pay any fees necessary to obtain this information. Due to the
distance I am requesting assistance in finding information. Our adult
children are curious about this matter also.
I am enclosing a copy of the newspaper article from the Los Angeles Times and a copy of Virginia Mae Pyne’s death certificate.
I thank you in advance for any information you may be able to give me.
He sat at the lunch counter of the Owl Drug Store, 8490 Beverly Blvd.,
for 90 minutes, walked behind the counter, pushed a waitress aside and
shot his ex-girlfriend five times. Two motorcycle officers who were
using the pay phone heard the gunshots and captured John Federoff [or
Tederoff], 37, of 2205 W. 6th St.
According to police, Federoff kidnapped and assaulted Virginia Mae Pyne, 5533 Hollywood Blvd., the week before, but she refused to press charges. He told police they had lived together at 349 S. Rampart, but "she took all my money and left me with nothing but bills."
On Nov. 30, 1956, Federoff pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and was sentenced to five years to life in prison. No further information is available in The Times.
California death records list a John A. Federoff, who died Aug. 6, 1996, at the age of 76.
I hope this provides some answers, and perhaps, a bit of closure.
May 20, 1957
It is characteristic of our pueblo to blow up a typhoon over matters
which might more wisely be handled quietly and in proper perspective.
For instance, the fuss over the impending arrival of the Brooklyn
Dodgers.
As one who spent many a hot summer afternoon as an eager boy picking up
empty soft-drink bottles after the baseball games at old Washington
Park, then at Washington Boulevard and Hill Street,
to earn a pass for the next day’s game, I wish to cast a dissenting and
slightly scornful vote. I don’t think it’s quite that wonderful.
We have two good ball clubs, Los Angeles and Hollywood–good enough to
hold their own against the second-division clubs in both major leagues.
Yet not enough people support them. Whence cometh, then, this assurance
they will support the Dodgers?
Let’s face it–this is a stay-at-home town with a widely scattered
population. For those who choose not to stay at home there are too many
other things, more exciting than baseball, to do and see.
And all the synthetic excitement and double talk over whether they’ll
play at the Coliseum or Wrigley Field or Chavez Ravine is mostly a
bunch of guys talking to each other.
Certainly it’s news that the Dodgers are coming, if and when they come. But not THAT much news.
May 20, 1957
The quality of mercy, according to an old-time scenario writer, is not strained.
But much as I dislike taking the man on at this late date, I am forced to argue the point.
Because I have just witnessed mercy at its mercenary worst.
I reported the incident yesterday.
I told of a young woman, who, while in labor of childbirth, was
released from a hospital here because her husband couldn’t meet the
institution’s last-minute demands for an additional $175 deposit.
The story was unique in the brazen tactics employed, but it was not unique in many other respects.
Because "money before mercy" is rapidly becoming the unwritten motto of many hospitals in this area.
I would never argue the right of a private hospital to make a profit.
It’s perfectly reasonable that such hospitals, like other private
enterprises, should refuse admission to bad money risks–provided, of
course, that they don’t shut their doors on emergency cases.
It isn’t reasonable, however, that hospitals should discard their moral
obligations in time of emergency or after they have committed
themselves to service.
I have been warned on occasion, by reputed medical men, that generalizations are unfair in the hospital field.
Such warnings obviously are admissions that bad hospitals, as well as good hospitals, exist.
It’s a logical conclusion. And a realistic one.
But it’s a wrong one for leaders in the big business of hospital
administration to accept, without some effort to correct conditions in
those hospitals which are below standard.
Hospitals for years have been accepted as institutions of dedication.
As sanctuaries of the sick, they attracted dedicated people to staff
them.
Today, I am certain, they still do.
And that places the fault in the laps of those who make the rules: the administrators.
I was told recently about a man suffering numerous knife wounds who was
carried by friends into a nearby private hospital. His blood formed
puddles on the admittance room floor.
There was a doctor on duty, but no examination of the seriousness of the man’s wounds was made.
Instead, the clerk condescended to phone an emergency hospital.
When you check out this kind of a story, the answers are stock:
The clerk says it’s a hospital rule to pay in advance.
The director says that if it was an emergency, and he had known about
it, he certainly would have seen to it that the victim received
immediate care.
There are, however, some hospitals in the Los Angeles area which they
tell me do not require deposits from prospective patients. Among them
are Santa Monica and California hospitals.
Naturally, in cases which aren’t urgent, they estimate their fee and
ask if the patient can afford it. If he can’t, they recommend that he
go to the county.
I contacted George Peale, superintendent of California Hospital yesterday.
I asked him:
"Without a demanded deposit, doesn’t your hospital run a fairly heavy loss from patients who don’t pay their bills?"
"Our loss," he answered, "runs no higher than any other hospital’s."
I’m not familiar with California Hospital, but I’d venture a guess that its mercy isn’t prefaced by a dollar sign.
And I wish I could say that for every hospital.
The Mirror scores a jailhouse interview with L. Ewing Scott, plus one of Confidential magazine’s main informants, Francesca De Scaffa attempts suicide again. According to news reports, De Scaffa was so eager to be a Confidential source that she was willing to have affairs just to get information.
And in Mickey Cohen news, fallout from his televised blast at the LAPD and civic officials.
Page 1
Page 2
Page 16
Mirror writer
Al Miyadi takes a look at the challenges facing the Japanese American community that has settled in Gardena.
Note: In early 1957, The Times sent UCLA professor Robert G. Neumann
on a six-week tour of the Middle East. Neumann, who was later the U.S.
ambassador to Afghanistan and Morocco, wrote these stories upon his
return. His son, Ronald, is U.S. ambassador to Afghanistan.
Part 14, March 25, 1957
"I killed nobody that
didn’t deserve killing. In all of these here killings there was no
alternative. You couldn’t call them cold-blooded killings…. It was
either my life or theirs."
Mickey Cohen
May 19, 1957
Los Angeles
I suppose in hindsight it’s easy to see why
interviewing Mickey Cohen on live television was a bad idea. But at the
time, as Mike Wallace admits, it seemed like a wonderful coup against
the competition.
If you don’t know anything about Cohen, you might not understand what
an outspoken and profane man he was. But Wallace certainly knew. And
those viewers who skipped Dr. Joyce Brothers on the "$64,000 Challenge"
experienced an obscene tirade from the little mobster.
Unfortunately, the original newspaper accounts give very little of
Cohen’s remarks except to say they were unprintable. "Cohen was
interviewed over a national ABC network show last night and admitted he
has killed at least one man in self-defense," The Mirror said. "He
hurled a series of unprintable charges against [Los Angeles Police
Chief William H.] Parker.
" ‘Gestapo tactics’ was the kindest phrase he used. The laws governing
libel and slander prohibit repetition of the charges in a newspaper,"
The Mirror said.
But some information can be gleaned from news accounts. In addition to
claiming that he had killed a man, Cohen said his gambling operations
once handled $600,000 in bets and that politicians needed him at
election time and allowed him to operate with impunity.
He also said: "My sources of power were higher than former Mayor Bowron’s and former Police Chief Horrall’s."
Former Mayor Fletcher Bowron, who had returned to the Superior Court
bench after being elected mayor in the 1938 recall of Frank Shaw, said
it was beneath his dignity to respond to Cohen’s allegations. Former
Chief Clemence B. "Jack" Horrall, who headed the LAPD during World War
II, said Cohen operated in the county rather than the city. "He tried
to operate in the city and we ran him out," Horrall said. "Cohen’s a
liar."
But ABC-TV made a critical error. Recall that this was before the days
of videotape. Instead, shows were preserved on kinescopes in which a
movie camera filmed images on a TV picture tube, and these were shown
on the West Coast three hours later. Although ABC executives had no
idea what Cohen was going to say on the live show, they were well aware
of Cohen’s comments and decided to proceed with the West Coast broadcast three hours
later.
Former Mirror reporter Cliff Dektar, who was handling publicity for ABC in Los Angeles, recalls watching the show with The Times TV critic at the network’s studios:
"I hosted Cecil Smith, Times TV critic
at the ABC TV Center executive viewing room, Prospect and
Talmadge.
"Outrageous, and the phone rang. It was lawyer in NY. l say
nothing (there is a reporter sitting next to me).
"Parker and
[Police Capt. James] Hamilton (the intelligence squad captain) gave ABC and WC head Earl Hudson
opportunity to cancel WC repeat (kinescope) and get out trouble…Mr. Hudson
declined and Hamilton won a major slander suit against ABC.
"It was a most
interesting event…oh yes…took Cecil and his wife to dinner following."
Parker was furious, and turned down a network offer to respond on
Wallace’s show the next week. "That sort of thing is more insidious
than Confidential," Parker said. "You have to go down to the newsstand
to buy a magazine and you get this in your living room."
"As a police officer, I am used to being shot at. But how can a person
like Cohen be allowed to assassinate my character?" Parker said.
ABC issued an apology the next week, but the controversy continued.
May 19, 1957
Los Angeles
In only the second time such honor was bestowed upon a woman since it
was established in 1932, the Asa V. Call Award was presented to Mrs.
Richard M. Nixon for bringing the greatest honor to USC.
Not that the busy wife of the vice president could attend the ceremony. The 1937 alumna was occupied with official duties, so the award,
named for the former USC trustee, attorney (Class of 1914) and
president of Pacific Mutual Life Insurance was presented to Mrs.
Mildred Younger, one of Mrs. Nixon’s friends.
And what are Pat Nixon’s duties? According to The Times, even though
she’s married to the vice president, she answers the doorbell of their modest, unpretentious home herself.
In fact, she not only answered the door when the wives of some new
congressmen came to visit, she was wearing
an apron and carrying a broom since they caught her in the middle of
house cleaning.
She’s also a full-time housewife and mother, The Times says, although
she gets babysitting help from Mrs. Clifford Moore (again, recall that
this is the era when married women didn’t have first names).
Other
indignities mentioned in The Times? Protocol prohibits her from
selecting the color of her inaugural gown until First Lady Mamie
Eisenhower decides on the proper
hue. Life is full of challenges for the "perfect size 10" Mrs. Richard M. Nixon, The Times says.
The good news is that she gathered with some fellow (and they were all
fellows) USC alums in Washington: Rep. James B. Utt of Santa Ana; Roger
E. Johnson of USC’s Washington alumni association; Sen. Thomas H.
Kuchel; and Francis D. Tappaan, former football star and Kuchel aide.
Bonus fact: In 1952, opera singer Nadine Conner became the first woman to receive the Call award.
Here’s the link to the Texas First Ladies Historic Costume Collection, where one of Mamie Eisenhower’s dresses is on display.
Note: In early 1957, The Times sent UCLA professor Robert G. Neumann
on a six-week tour of the Middle East. Neumann, who was later the U.S.
ambassador to Afghanistan and Morocco, wrote these stories upon his
return. His son, Ronald, is U.S. ambassador to Afghanistan.
Part 13, March 22, 1957
