El Niño, Downtown Los Angeles 1966 - age 3.

El Niño, Downtown Los Angeles 1966 - age 3.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Bring it and they will come. Happy New Year

photo on b/w film by El Niño Angeleno

Bring it and they will come…..

When Los Angeles Water and Power Chief William Mulholland completed the Owens Aqueduct in 1913, a much needed water supply began its 400 mile journey to Southern California via the Owens River. From that water supply, a small city called Los Angeles began to sprout from the dry and parched dirt of the pueblo. Today, Los Angeles is a beautiful and massive oak tree.

I have many things to be thankful for in 2010; good health, a job, good family, good friends, good pets and a roof over my head, but opportunities and time seem to have eluded me in 2010 much like precious water from a storm that runs off into the Los Angeles River and out into the ocean, never to be used to irrigate a grove of orange trees or cool down the elephants at the LA Zoo on a scorching day.

May your 2011 be fully consumed and never wasted. Happy New Year everyone !

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Number 9 Looks Just Like You - My Last Days with John.



Number 9 Looks Just Like You - My Last Days with John

a short story by Gianpiero F. Leone

Sonny Torrino was a skinny 17 year old teenager, 129 pounds with awkwardly large biceps for his frame.

“Look out mister!” yelled Sonny.

A long haired man stood by the sliding doors of the supermarket on Los Feliz Blvd and Central Ave. He had shoulder length brown hair, a thin pinched nose, and a set of round spectacles that could make him eerily stick out in a crowd. He looked about 30 years of age, with a semi-muscular build behind a long blue corduroy jacket. He turned around and glanced at Sonny. Not an intimating glance, but merely acknowledging the teenager at the bottom of the ramp that led to the automatic sliding doors of the store.


“Hey man, the stage is all yours” said the stranger with the spectacles.

Sonny looked up from behind the twenty supermarket shopping carts that he had gathered in the parking lot. They were perfectly inserted into each other making a kind of giant steel centipede that needed to be captured and put on display at the LA Zoo.


“Just watch out and stay clear,” said Sonny. His biceps bulged as he grabbed the handles of the first cart and lifted it slightly up from its rear wheels and then started to push the centipede of carts up the ramp, through the front doors and into a corral just beyond the entrance of the store. The carts rattled as they entered the store where several agitated shoppers were waiting for a cart to start their shopping.


“Less chatting in the parking lot young man, you have several of us waiting” said an elderly man wearing a brown ratty sweater. He grabbed a cart and stared at Sonny as he pushed it away. A young Hispanic woman with two small children grabbed the next cart, followed by a woman wearing a nurse’s uniform and finally a tall woman with long black hair, high heels and mirrored sunglasses took another cart and pushed it straight to the liquor section.


“Tell them all to blow off, you’ll get the carts when you get the carts,” said the man with spectacles, a big grin on his face. Sonny just looked at him strangely and said “Ok.”


Sonny had just started his after school job at the local supermarket where the city of Glendale and the suburb of Atwater, Los Angeles unhappily met in a matrimony of urban zones and zip codes. Sonny wore a bright orange company vest, a short sleeve white shirt with one of his father’s ties, brown Levi corduroy pants and a name tag with a missing “n” from his name. The name tag read “Sony”. He had shoulder length hair and a sparse mustache that was separated under his nose from lack of growth and another separation above the left side of his lip, where a catcher’s mask from little league brawl had once split that area open, leaving a small scar as the only trophy from that summer.


The man with the round spectacles took a cart and disappeared into the produce department, while Sonny made his way over to a checkstand to bag groceries on a busy Tuesday evening. Tiny boxes of Jell-O, rolls of paper towels, cat food, cans of Spam, deodorant, salad dressing and bunches of grapes made their way into paper bags, one customer after another. Suddenly, Sonny looked up and the man with the round spectacles and the pinched nose was the next customer in line. He had a few items in his cart, toilet paper, two oranges and a greeting card. He laid them on the rubber conveyor belt where the items made their way to Maria the cashier, the greeting card almost getting swallowed up by the conveyor belt along the way. Sonny put the items into a brown paper bag. The stranger with the spectacles paid his bill and took the bag from Sonny.


“Thanks man,” he said. Sonny just nodded.

He walked out of the supermarket and Sonny followed to get another round of shopping carts. The teenager showed interest in the bespectacled stranger and stared at him as he walked out the front door. As the man walked passed the phone booths and the coin operated children’s ride in front of the supermarket, Sonny walked faster and caught up to him as they both met by a stray cart.


He asked nervously, “Anyone ever tell you that you look like John Lennon?”

The man knew that question would eventually come. He smiled gracefully and said “Come Together” as he held out a peace sign with his free hand as the other clutched the paper bag that was held close to his torso. Sonny was amused with the man’s answer, a reference to the Beatles song voiced by John Lennon himself.


“What’s your name?” asked Sonny.

“John,” said the man with round spectacles.

Sonny laughed and said, “Hey, say you want a revolution you know?”

John rolled his eyes and said, “Have a good night my friend, see you tomorrow”.


The mirror image for John Lennon walked along the front of the store and made a right at the end of the building, walking down the long driveway where the delivery trucks would unload boxes of produce and dry goods. The driveway was dark, with the last delivery truck departing hours ago. Sonny pushed the stray cart over to the edge of the building and looked to where John had disappeared into the night. It was a Tuesday night, Nov 25, 1980.


The next night, Sonny was working the evening shift and John arrived on a chilly Southern California night wearing his long corduroy jacket. Sonny watched him enter through the automatic doors and pass through the turnstiles at the mouth of the supermarket.


“What’s up brother?” said John

“The usual, too many customers and not enough shopping carts” said Sonny.

“That’s a drag, but I don’t need one so don’t worry about me needing four rusty wheels” replied John.

With a comfortable expression on his face Sonny replied, “Did you walk here from Abbey Road then?”


John smiled, his pinched nose expanded and overwhelmed his face. Before he could reply, Sonny said, “Is it all right if I call you JL, for John Lennon?”

“Hey, whatever works for you is cool with me, I have heard them all” replied John, giving Sonny a peace sign with his fingers along the way. John disappeared into the supermarket as Sonny took his break and headed off to the pay phones in front of the store to call his girlfriend. After a few minutes on the phone, he saw John exit the store carrying a big brown paper bag.


He waved to Sonny and said “Good Night”.

“See you later man….. I mean later JL!” yelled Sonny.

John walked off into the night disappearing at the edge of the building and into the darkness once again. Sonny turned his head back to the phone‘s receiver and said to his girlfriend, “There's this guy who comes into the store, looks just like John Lennon from the Beatles, it is totally weird.”


Carlos, the assistant manager, poked his head out from the store, looked left and then right and spotted Sonny. “Torrino!, break over, get back inside we have lines ten customers deep!” yelled Carlos. Sonny quickly hung up the phone and headed into the store passing Carlos on the way. Carlos was about 30 years old, wore his pants a size too small and was a little overzealous about his career in the supermarket business. The lines of customers buying canned yams, frozen turkeys, instant stuffing mix and Turkey TV diners slowly leveled down and the store closed at 10pm. Sonny headed outside, unknotted his tie and unlocked the door to his Chevy Camaro, “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen blasted from the speakers as the engine fired up. Sonny turned right out of the parking lot and headed West into Atwater. It was Wednesday Nov 26, 1980, the night before Thanksgiving and the supermarket would be closed the next day.


Sonny did not run into John again until Sunday afternoon at the supermarket. It was a warm afternoon, the store was crowded and Christmas elevator music played throughout the building. Sonny was bagging groceries when he saw John from across the store, wearing his familiar long corduroy jacket; he made eye contact with Sonny and smiled. Sonny could swear that the “Let It Be” version of John Lennon was buying navel oranges in the store. John arrived at Maria’s check stand and purchased two oranges for eighty eight cents.


“This is good weather, back in Milwaukee it’s about 10 degrees,” said John. John took the 12 cents change from the dollar he gave Maria and put the two pennies and one dime into the front pocket of his corduroy jacket, a white round stick button with the number “9” in red adorned his lapel. John was in full character today, committed to the person he naturally mirrored so well. Only the American accent and the fact that he was shopping at a supermarket in Glendale, California was the giveaway.

Sonny and Maria just gazed at John, and said nothing.

He awoke from his slight trance and said, “Oh yeah, Milwaukee, is that where you are from?”

John said, “Maybe.” with a suspicious but playful undertone to his voice.

Maria suddenly interrupted and added, “I saw the Beatles at Dodger Stadium once in 1966!”


John acknowledged Maria with a smile and then exited the store. Sonny followed to retrieve the lonely supermarket carts abandoned in the parking lot and John turned to Sonny and said, “Hey that dude Carlos is a real drag, he follows me around the store every time I am shopping, what’s his problem ?”


Sonny smiled and said, “Maybe he wants your autograph!”

John laughed out loud, his head went back a bit, his eyes, clearly visible through his round glasses, closed for a quick second and then opened again when his head came back forward. His front teeth were slightly crooked. Perhaps he could have used braces when he was younger thought Sonny to himself.


“See you tomorrow my man,” said John. He extended his hand out and Sonny shook it. Sonny pushed 14 carts back into the store. His biceps were getting bigger and bulging from his short sleeve white shirt. It was Sunday November 30, 1980.


John walked into the supermarket almost every night during the first week of December. He would emerge from the checkout stand with nothing more than an orange or two, a can of baked beans, a tube of toothpaste or some half-priced ground beef. He always requested a large paper bag even though his orders were small. He now had a little bit of a cult following as the cashiers, clerks and even the customers would whisper to each other, “Here comes that John Lennon Beatle guy”, when he would enter the supermarket. John was a little shy but very comfortable with whom he was and did not try and conceal the fact that he looked like the famous musician that once changed the world. He would hold out a peace sign to whoever requested it and be on his way. Sonny would follow him outside after he shopped and they would chat for several minutes, mostly about music, girls or a squeaky wheel on one of the shopping carts. Sonny and John started to bond with each meeting in the parking lot and Sonny would look forward to seeing the mysterious man with the round glasses and the pinched nose enter the store night after night.


David greeted Sonny as he pulled his Camaro into the store parking lot.

“Hey, your friend is looking for you,” said David.

“Who, which friend?” replied Sonny.

“The Beatle, he’s in the store and asked if you were working today," said David.


David was 22 years old and was born and raised in Lincoln Heights. He drove a well traveled Ford Pinto with a jagged and shredded front fender that would cut your thigh open or at least rip your pants if you brushed up against it in the parking lot. Sonny had just arrived to start his 9am shift. It was Saturday morning, December 6, 1980.


“Thanks Dave,” said Sonny.

“Get me an autograph Carnal!” yelled Dave as Sonny got out of his car and briskly walked into the store.


John emerged from one of the shopping aisles, got into a checkout line, put a half gallon of milk and an orange on the conveyor belt and greeted the cashier as Sonny put the items into a paper sack.


“How’s it going JL?” said Sonny

“Good, gotta love this sunshine,” said John.

Sonny and Alice the cashier both stared in silence.

“What time is your lunch break?” said John.

“About 1pm usually,” replied Sonny.

“Let me buy you a cheeseburger over at Andy’s,” asked John.

“Hey that would be cool, I will meet you there!“ said Sonny.


By this time, Sonny’s name tag had been replaced with one that had the correct spelling of his name, “Hello, my name is Sonny, here to serve you”.

Sonny met John at Andy’s Diner on the corner of Los Feliz Blvd and San Fernando Road, located right next to the parking lot of the supermarket. Andy’s was a fast food place run by a Greek family that lived in Encino. Harry, one of the older sons of the owner, was working the grill that day. He would often dash into the supermarket to buy burger buns when the diner would run out or bags of ice when their ice machine would break down. John paid for the order of two cheeseburgers, two fries, a coke and an ice tea and then took the tray over to a table by the window. Over the course of 45 minutes Sonny and John talked while other customers would walk in and recognized Sonny from the supermarket or would do a double take when they saw John. Among the familiar sounds of the Pac-Man machine that was stationed in the corner and the teenagers that were huddled around it, he found out that John was an army brat born in Germany, and then lived most of his teenage years with his mother in the Mid-West. He came to Los Angeles recently looking for work and eventually got work as an extra in the movies but his familiar profile, his round glasses and his long hair became a distraction on most of the movie sets, so he quit and was unemployed and living in a depressing brownstone building on Central Ave. When he was a teenager, he played guitar in a band but once again his familiar mug proved too much of a distraction so he quit the band and never picked up his guitar again.


“Everyone expected me to sound like John Lennon, I just wanted to be myself and got fed up,” he said.

Sonny listened attentively and nodded as John continued to talk about himself.

“I have been wearing round glasses since I was a five years old, and was not about to change who I am, so here I am today… The Smart One, living on unemployment wages,” chuckled John.


Sonny just listened and avoided speaking in “Beatles song titles” like he had been doing since he had met him. John asked questions of Sonny’s school, family and his girlfriend of which Sonny was delighted to answer. Sonny mentioned to John that he had wanted to learn how to play guitar and was saving up for a Fender Telecaster.


“When you get the guitar, I will teach you how to play, I think I can still wrestle out some chords from my fingers, it’s kinda’ like riding a bike, you know,” said John.


That would be very cool!” replied Sonny.

The square Coca-Cola clock on the wall of the diner read 1:56 PM.

Sonny said, “I gotta’ get back to the store or Carlos will give me hell, thanks for lunch JL!”

“I will see you later man,” replied John.


Sonny grabbed his orange supermarket vest from the chair and left the diner, the sounds of the teenagers and the Pac-Man machine slowly muffled as the door closed behind him. Sonny entered the parking lot and headed towards the store. He looked back at the diner and saw John light up a cigarette through the window where they had been sitting. “Wow, I just had a cheeseburger with John Lennon, go figure” said Sonny to himself.


He did not see John at the supermarket on Sunday December 7th, perhaps Sonny’s early shift missed John’s later arrival to buy his daily navel orange. It was Pearl Harbor Day and a few WWII veterans from the neighborhood came into the supermarket dressed in full military uniforms. One of them was Mr. West, a regular customer in the store and a graduate of Glendale High School class of 1942. He enlisted right after graduation that summer and had never left Glendale upon his return from service in 1945. Mr. West usually got plenty of attention from the older female shoppers; he was a rock star himself it seemed.


Sonny went to school the next day at John Marshall High School and then began his shift at the supermarket at 4pm. It was Monday, December 8, 1980. The store was cold inside and the elevator version of “Jingle Bells” played over the speakers of the store. David Luna had gone home while Maria, Carol, Mark and Sonny worked the late shift at the store while a chubby moody Chinese guy named Tom stacked apples in the produce department.


Sonny took his break at 7pm and called his girlfriend from the pay phone in front of the store. She seemed distant on the phone and cut the call short. He walked over to the side of the building where the dark abyss of the loading ramp was located. The driveway leading to the back street was littered with lonely shopping carts. He ignored them all, and the carts returned the favor and ignored him. He walked around the block, eating up the last few minutes of this break. Sonny dragged throughout the night, going from checkstand to checkstand bagging items one by one for faceless customers. Shopping carts were rapidly accumulating in the parking lot and around 9:20pm, he went out to get them as he knew he could not go home until they were all inside the supermarket. The parking lot was dark and illuminated only by the neon orange sign of the supermarket, while Sonny began the task of putting together a giant steel centipede of carts once again. He constructed one consisting of twenty carts at the far end of the parking lot and then looked up at the supermarket’s doors to start the foreboding task of pushing them inside. When he looked up, he saw John at the pay phones in front of the store. His back was to the parking lot and he wore his familiar long jacket. John turned around as he was speaking into the receiver, his familiar profile glowed under the neon sign. He hung up the phone and stood there for a moment with an uneasy look on his face and then spotted Sonny in the darkness and walked over to him. John had both hands inserted into his pants pockets as he walked while his long jacket blew open in the breeze. He did not have a brown paper bag in his hands and it seemed as if he had made the trip to the store specifically to use the pay phones.


John stopped a couple feet in front of Sonny and with a blank look on his face said, “John Lennon was killed in New York City tonight.” Sonny was tired, agitated and not very focused and for the first time was not excited about seeing his famous friend.


“Huh?” replied Sonny.

“He was shot and killed tonight in New York, John Lennon is dead,” said John loudly.

John waited for a reaction from Sonny but he did not reply. He thought John was trying to be funny, so he ignored him and pushed the carts right by him and across the parking lot, his biceps were bulging and his polyester necktie was loose. When he got the carts into the store, he turned right around and looked outside to see if John was still there but he had vanished into the night as he normally did after shopping. The supermarket closed and Sonny left at 10pm and headed home. When he got home, his parents were sleeping in their bedroom and the television was still on in the living room, serving out the local news to an empty couch. He hit the power button on the Zenith console television and headed towards his bedroom. From the kitchen, Bambino the pet parakeet, let out a loud chirp from his cage as Sonny slammed his bedroom door.


The next morning, Sonny got up and got ready for school, choosing to walk the several concrete blocks to the school rather than drive them. It was Tuesday, December 9, 1980. He came down the steps of his house that was perched high up on a slight incline and walked passed his neighbor’s house, a Russian family that had been in the neighborhood long before Sonny‘s parents had moved in. As he walked by their driveway, he noticed the newspaper folded and sitting a step or two away. He veered to the left and knelt down to look at it.

The front headline read “Beatle John Lennon Slain”.


Sonny picked up the paper and held it close to his eyes as if he was misreading the newsprint.

“JL was telling the truth last night,” he whispered out loud to himself.

He let out a thick sigh from deep within his chest. Tears that had shot up from his chest, suddenly coagulated on the way up, getting stuck at his throat and never emerging from his eyes. Sonny was wearing a black t-shirt underneath a blue zipper jacket with “The Who“ stenciled on the front. He felt cold and confused. When he arrived at the main building of his school, students were talking about John Lennon but when the bell rang, everyone entered the classrooms. By 2pm, the car radios from an assortment of Ford Mustangs, lowered Toyota Celicas and VW Beetles from the student body were playing “Imagine” and “Strawberry Fields” as they roared away from the school with John Lennon’s voice slowly fading down Tracy and St. George Streets. Teachers and students went home at the end of the day, the drill team held their daily practice on the football field and the janitors made their way down the school hallways, buckets and mops in hand. Sonny lingered around the school to see if he could find someone to talk to but everyone had gone home. Sonny was not scheduled to work that day at the supermarket, but made his way down to the corner of Los Feliz and Central Avenue in search of John.


He saw Dave in the parking lot and asked, “Has JL been here today?”

“Who?” replied Dave.

“My friend John the Beatle guy,” said Sonny.

“No way, not today carnal,” replied Dave.


He went inside the store and asked every cashier the same question. “Have you seen my friend here today, the guy with the round glasses, his looks like John Lennon?” Each of the cashiers solemnly answered in succession, “sorry, have not seen him today”, with the exception of Mary, an older cashier who seemed confused and asked, “Who is John Lennon?”


Sonny hung out around the store, made phone calls from the pay phone to his girlfriend and then went to Andy’s to get something to eat. He kept his eyes on the front door to see if John would show up. Andy’s was quiet, the Pac-Man machine had a hand written, “BROKEN” sign on it. By 10pm, Sonny went home. The parking lot was dark.


Sonny spent the next two weeks working at the store or spending his entire evenings off there, waiting to see if John would show up. By Monday, December 22, John still not had been seen by anyone at the store. Sonny finally decided to go looking for him and walked up Central Ave searching out the brownstone building that matched the vivid details described to him at Andy’s Diner that afternoon. Five blocks up on the west side of the street, there was a lone three story brownstone with a wrought iron fence around it. It was the only brownstone as far as his eyes could see. He approached the front and saw two Hispanic men in white t-shirts standing in front smoking Marlboros, and asked them “Do you know John that lives here?” The two men just shook their heads as if they did not understand or care. “He has round glasses and long hair, es un Gringo,” added Sonny.


The two men turned around walked into the building. Sonny followed them inside. Inside the building was just as John had described, the halls smelled of fried cooking, the carpet was soiled, several babies could be heard crying in stereo off in the distance and a water weary plant stood guard in front of the mailboxes. An old white woman was walking down the stairs, clutching a weathered handbag. Sonny recognized her as a customer from the supermarket.


“Do you know John, he is this tall guy with round glasses and long hair, he lives here right?” asked John.

The tiny woman looked up at Sonny through her thick glasses and squinted. It took a few seconds before her thoughts could catch up to her vocal chords. She had on cakey red lipstick that looked as if it had been applied in total darkness while sitting at the vanity of her small studio apartment.

“I do know that gentleman, but I have not seen him here in a while, usually I see him in the back eating an orange," she said.


Sonny darted down the long hallway that was lit only by a bare bulb on the ceiling. The light fixture long ago broken and never replaced. The back area of the building was littered with garbage and old cars, cats roamed the pavement and neither John nor a trace of any discarded orange peels could be found. An odd looking man wearing a bowtie, a dirty white shirt, high waist wool pants, and bedroom slippers entered the backyard from the building.

He stood very authoritative and said, “I am the manager, can I help you with something ?” He looked as if he was once an old cabaret singer from the 1930s, now spending his last years tending to clogged toilets, late rent payments and hosing down cats in heat as the screeched in the middle of the night.


“I’m looking for my friend John, tall white guy, round glasses; he lives here, doesn’t he?” asked Sonny.

“He did, left here last week, paid what he owed and took off,” said the manager.

Sonny raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and asked, “But where?”

“Not sure, just said he was going back home, wherever that is, I already rented out his old studio, #9 on the second floor,“ replied the manager.


Sonny stood silent for a few moments and then walked back through the building, the sounds of the crying children was now replaced by a blasting television set. The cabaret singer followed him inside and then entered his apartment and shut the door behind him as the plastic Christmas wreath on his door fell to the ground. Sonny headed back to the supermarket. The parking lot was once again loaded with empty shopping carts waiting to be gathered, like sailors from a shipwreck bobbing in the ocean waiting to be rescued. He entered silently through the automatic doors of the store. The belligerent old man from a few days ago was standing with his arms folded waiting for a shopping cart. Sonny ignored him and headed to the produce department and looked for the biggest navel orange he could find and then got in line to pay for it. While he waited silently alone in line, he noticed the new issue of People Magazine on display in front of the checkstand. The cover was a photo of John Lennon and Yoko Ono and it was titled, “John Lennon 1940 -1980 A Tribute“. It had a 95 cent price tag on it. He took a copy and handed Maria a five dollar bill for the orange and the magazine and left the store without saying a word to anyone. He did not wait for his change.


Copyright © 2010 Gianpiero F. Leone


The Music and Life of John Lennon lives on everyday for me, I will never forget where I was that day, December 8, 1980.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Grease at John Marshall High School, Los Angeles.

The John Marshall High School football field as it appeared at my graduation June 1981. I am somewhere down there. The carnival scene from Grease was filmed right where the graduates are sitting. Photo courtesy of my Dad and his legendary Olympus 35mm camera.


Eve Arden circa 1955, signing an autograph for someone named Margie as she vacationed in Hollywood that year. Photo courtesy of Margie's lost but now found photo album

The famous John Marshall Facade, serving Hollywood for backdrops since 1931.
Photo courtesy of www.now-you-are-here.com


“If you can’t be an athlete, then be an athletic supporter”. This is how Eve Arden addressed the Rydell High School student body over the intercom in the 1978 film Grease, where she portrayed the quirky Principal at the fictional school. Despite her starring role in the 1950’s television series Our Miss Brooks, her cameo appearance in a famous I Love Lucy episode or her stellar roles in Mildred Pierce and Anatomy for a Murder, somehow I have chosen to remember Eve Arden for her performance in the campy cult musical from that summer.

The final scene of Grease was filmed on location on the football field of my alma mater, John Marshall High School in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles. That upbeat 1950’s carnival scene where Olivia Newton John and John Travolta perform a singing and dancing duet to the songs, “You’re The One That I Want” and "We Go Together", and then shortly there afterwards are propelled off into the blue sky in a flying 1956 Hot Rod automobile while looking back at the school from high up in the sky, seemed like a very strange ending to me. I just assumed they were on their way to battle the Millennium Falcon Starship from The Star Wars movie that premiered the previous summer.

I was not yet a student at John Marshall High in 1978 when that scene was filmed, but when I heard that Vinnie Barbarino (Travolta) from the 1970s sitcom, Welcome Back Kotter was in the ‘hood, I walked the short distance from my home over to the intersection of St. George Street and Griffith Park Blvd for a couple of days to see if I could spot the famous disco dancer. Sporting a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, I don’t know what I would have done if I actually saw him, maybe yell out “disco sucks” or something to showcase my rebellious prose. As with most location filming that the public happens to stumble across, there never seems to be much action happening, just massive studio trucks parked along the street, mounds of electrical cable swimming over the sidewalks, scores of production staff standing around with clipboards in their hands while any recognizable stars are locked away in a trailer getting a pedicure. After a couple of days of this, I lost interest and did not bother to return. When I finally saw the film a few years later on network television I immediately recognized the carnival scene and my only thoughts were, “When could they have gotten all of that done ?" It must have been when I stepped away to visit The Burrito King a block away on Hyperion Ave to pacify my hunger with a burrito deluxe. I thought I saw a flying car in the sky about that time, but I figured it was just the hot sauce playing tricks on me.

A few years later during my senior year in 1981 at John Marshall, a film called Zapped was being filmed on campus during the final days of the school year. For several days, Willie Aames, Scott Baio, Heather Thomas and Scatman Crothers walked around campus, used the school toilets, sipped water from the communal water fountains and signed yearbooks for those that were aggressive enough to ask for them. Scatman even poked his head into a classroom for a few seconds and said something but I can’t recall what it was as I seemed to be asleep at the wheel during those last few weeks of school. When I finally saw Zapped a few years later on this new contraption called a VCR, the only thing I did was continually scan and pause the video tape for any incidental footage of myself in the background lingering in front of the famous gothic facade of the school while clutching a well scribbled peechee folder, but I never made it to celluloid that year. My quest continues.

Rest in Peace, Eve Arden and Scatman Crothers.

The "We Go Together" Carnival Scene at John Marshall High on You Tube:

The Opening sequence in Zapped with a strange lead into Scientology:

Disclaimer: I am not a Scientologist in any way, shape or form but it was the only you tube video available.





Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Get out and Vote today.

Martin Sheen and Danny Glover have both left me pre-recorded messages on my answering machine regarding where they stand on certain ballot measures, my mailbox is overflowing with glossy campaign ads that litter the common hallways of my apartment complex and since I have been watching more television these days with the World Series and College Football, my flat screen has been bleeding with campaign ads from Whitman, Brown, Boxer and Fiorina. I have been voting since 1984 and I doubt that there has ever been a candidate that has not lied, raised taxes, raised DMV fees, cut jobs, cut school budgets, taken campaign contributions from special interest groups, hired an illegal immigrant or two, ostracised the poor and the middle class, covered up a scandal, etc..etc..etc.. In 2003 California voters recalled the Governor and brought in The Terminator and here we are in 2010. When it comes to voting, I try and educate myself to the best of my ability with the candidates and measures, try not to get distracted and vote for content. When it comes to politicians and ballot measures, they are truly “like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get”. - Forrest Gump

See you at the Polls.

(Disclaimer, An Elephant in a California convertible does not affiliate me with any political party.)

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Downtown Los Angeles Art Walk and Clifton's Cafeteria

Clifton’s Cafeteria Pacific Seas - 618 South Olive Street, Downtown Los Angeles

(Back of photo reads: July 30, 1949 Sightseeing bus we took on our tour of Warner Bros, Hollywood and Downtown. Jeannette, Maryann and Bobby Polite in front seat window)

The Los Angeles Downtown Art Walk in its sixth year of promoting the downtown art community has come across a fiscal Don’t Walk sign. The organization’s website announced that the art walks for the rest of 2010 would be cancelled and would resume in 2011, but the board of directors just announced that the Oct 14th Art Walk would go on as planned. The main issues are money and power which is the case with almost any problem Los Angeles encounters. The event is now wearing grown up clothes and attracts thousands of art walkers not only in search of the art scene but in search of drinking, eating and party establishments all which have benefited from the increased foot traffic. Paint it, sculpt it, design it, photograph it and promote it and they will come, by the thousands. With the masses comes an ever increasing security and cleanup tab that awaits the community and the organizers of the Art Walk the next day when the hangover hits. The art walk is a free self guided tour through the area called Gallery Row but there are also guided tours of this historic downtown core that meet up at the last standing Clifton’s Cafeteria located on Broadway and 7th street. I have personally enjoyed both the self guided and guided tours, but I have always avoided the “Double D” words, driving to downtown and instead opt for public transportation which is fast, reliable and plentiful in this area of downtown. Hopefully all will be worked out and the Art Walk will continue on.

The original Clifton’s Cafeteria Pacific Seas shown in this snapshot with its "Pay What You Wish" motto was demolished in 1960 and is now a world famous…….parking lot.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

The Lost Wigwam Weekend

"On our way from Apple Valley trip - 1951"

It was 1985 and I was a student at Cal Poly Pomona out where LA County meets San Bernardino County. An actor was President of the country, a 10 MG hard drive in your personal computer was a status symbol, Long Island Ice Teas were lethal, and Tears For Fears ruled the airwaves. Far away from Hollywood, Edendale and The Sunset Junction, I would on occasion explore the nightlife out in San Bernardino, Redlands and Riverside in those days looking for a little diversion from calculus and chemistry classes. One such place was a dance club called Harry C’s in Redlands where one Saturday evening I met up with a rowdy group University of Redlands students who were having an “after hours” party at the Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino off of Historic Route 66. I got directions and arrived at the Wigwam around midnight as “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” was blasting from my car’s stereo. I located teepee # 3 and entered a small motel room loaded with students, tequila shots, Wayfarer sunglasses, KROQ music and mild but innocent decadence if such a thing exists. The only thing I can remember from that evening was that the world’s biggest K-Mart discount store was located down the street and we went there at 6am looking to buy beer. I don’t think K-Mart ever sold beer, but luckily it was closed at that hour and we were diverted to another location. If K-Mart did sell beer back then, somehow I think that would have been rock bottom for me. When I left the Wigwam at 3pm the next day, I fired up my Honda Hatchback and “Everybody Wants To Rule the World” was again playing on the local FM station. I headed West towards the blazing sun, leaving the sights, sounds and the memories of my Lost Wigwam Weekend in the rear view mirror. The next day I took a calculus exam while visions of the big "K" from the colossal K-Mart sign continually interrupted me while I tried to solve complex derivative formulas, but I successfully overcame the diversion. I never saw that group of students again, but I am sure today they are all well respected professionals ruling the worlds of their chosen fields. In the end, we all want to rule the world but sometimes you have to take baby steps to get there, one derivative, one integral and one wigwam at a time.

The Wigwam Motel was established in 1937 with locations all over the Southwest United States. Today, only three locations remain including the San Bernardino location which was built in 1949 off of Route 66. Treat your sweetheart to a romantic weekend of Americana at the Wigwam Motel. Located off the 10 freeway about one hour from Los Angeles. If you book teepee #3 and happen to find my Swatch wrist watch that I misplaced at the Wigwam that Spring weekend 25 years ago, then I have a reward for you.

Description of my lost Swatch: cheap black plastic watch with an even cheaper matching black rubber protector. Last seen on the stoop of the Wigwam.

Here is the link to the Wigwam Motel: http://www.wigwammotel.com/


Friday, August 20, 2010

May the force be with you when driving to a show in Los Angeles.

Fear - The Record 1982

Derf Scratch, founding bass player for the early 1980’s punk band, Fear passed away last month at the age of 58. Derf, which is Fred spelled backwards, was originally from New Jersey but grew up in Temple City in the heart of the San Gabriel Valley and passed away in Camarillo. Known for their intense lyrics, loyal following and led by their intimidating front man Lee Ving, Fear played mostly the California circuit but once ventured to the East Coast for their now famous appearance on Saturday Night Live on Halloween Eve 1982. Invited as a guest of John Belushi, Fear came on stage as many of the hardcore fans immediately started stage diving without the band missing much of a step. Fear’s first album, “The Record” is a time capsule of what was going on in the Hollywood punk scene back then.

In July of 2004, I had tickets to see Fear play at the Key Club on the “fabulous Sunset Strip” as John Doe of X would say. Although Derf was not a member of Fear by this time, I eagerly anticipated seeing the band live as I had not even thought about Fear since that Halloween eve so many years ago. The show was on Saturday July 3rd, 2004 and I hideously underestimated the Hollywood traffic on that steamy Fourth of July weekend. I thought it would be nice to drive down Sunset Blvd on the way to the Key Club so we left Eagle Rock one hour before the show via the 134 freeway. We quickly made it to Sunset and Vermont and then instantly hit a tsunami of gridlock, chunky style. By show time we were barely at Sunset and Wilcox as we crawled down Sunset Blvd, passed Hollywood High School and the Guitar Center, entering the West Hollywood border where driving became more like swimming in peanut butter. The sweat and the anguish poured down my face as I continually chose to stick to my guns, marching down Sunset Blvd inch by inch like slow motion army ants in route to a discarded popsicle stick. By Sunset and Crescent Heights we were over two hours late for the show but I was determined to get to my destination that night. I could see the club and its neon sign off in the distance as my passenger cheered me on much like one does to a depleted marathoner as they approach the final stage of the 26 mile journey. Despite being almost three hours late for the show, I accomplished my goal of getting to the Key Club that night. When I drove by the front door, I sighed in relief but without even lighting up a victory cigar or resting my achy body we turned around and headed home, never entering the club that night and never seeing Fear hit the stage. I wisely chose to take Beverly Blvd back to the North Los Angeles where I arrived void of the energy and enthusiasm which I had left with earlier that evening. Saturday July 3rd, 2004 was the first time I realized what a powerful force that Los Angeles traffic can be. May the force be with you when driving to a show in Los Angeles.

Rest in Peace Derf.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

The # 6 Bánh Xèo Chay - Vegetarian


The # 6 Bánh Xèo Chay - Vegetarian: Vietnamese crepe with tofu, mushrooms, bean sprouts, mung beans, served with fresh herbs and rice paper wraps.

When we arrived at 8:50pm on Saturday evening at the Pho Café on West Sunset Blvd, we were but two of four people in the well lighted and stylish Vietnamese eatery that looked like it was art directed out of a classic Stanley Kubrick film. Within ten minutes from our arrival and without really even noticing, the eatery became packed with hungry urban dwellers seated in the brightly colored post modern chairs under the atomic lighting which complimented every table. I don’t know if it was the lighting fixtures that I was obsessed with or the natural high of the delicious mung beans I was enjoying, but every patron looked eerily the same; 24 - 35 years of age, very urban and digital, beautifully liberal and downtown fashionable, the males wearing short sleeve shirts with flap front pockets while their female counterparts showcased some eclectic bohemian eyewear. Overhearing their conversations, everyone seemed to be on the cusp of artistic greatness and freedom which made me immediately second guess the major I chose in college 25 years ago. Maybe not obviously so, but I was the odd older duck in the eatery with my grayish hair, wearing a wristwatch and the hidden prescription orthodics in my shoes while a Johnny Cash CD in the first position of my car’s archaic CD changer awaited my company for the drive home.

After paying the bill of 17 dollars and change for a fantastic and unique meal for two served up by a friendly staff, we exited the eatery and entered the parking lot which by now was bulging with a selection of Toyota Prius’ and 1990s Volvos. I pulled out of the parking lot as the harmonies of Johnny Cash’s “When it’s springtime in Alaska, its 40 below” hit the speakers in my car. I suddenly recalled the V8 Chevy Camaro that I drove in my youth while growing up close to this same neighborhood, and pealed out of the parking lot to the best of the ability of my present day 4 cylinder import. I hit the accelerator down Sunset Blvd and headed east towards a full moon, as Johnny was joined by his wife June Carter Cash singing the verse, “…we did the Eskimo hop all around the Saloon“. I quickly glanced into the rear view mirror to see the street lights of Los Angles 90026 blur into one as an image from the film, The Stepford Wives ironically came into focus.

The Pho Café in Silverlake serves up the best Vietnamese cuisine in the city. With a pleasant and knowledgeable staff to help guide you through a wide variety of choices from a very economic friendly menu. Translation: great food, good staff, affordable prices....go there.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Dog Day Afternoon - Downtown Los Angeles









Over 1000 people and 500 dogs attended the fourth annual Dog Day Afternoon event at The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Downtown Los Angeles on Tuesday July 27, 2010. The event sponsored by the Cathedral and the Downtown Business Improvement District brought together the local community of dog owners, local pet supply and service vendors and adoption groups against the backdrop of the beautiful Cathedral of Los Angeles. Every dog was very well behaved with not so much as a bark from any of the dozens of breeds in attendance. The event had designated “potty” areas which were adhered to by our trusty canine friends of the proud downtown neighborhood. These furry creatures brought along their owners who were treated to Dodger Dogs (the stadium version), music, wine and a little social mingling as a reward for a job well done in providing transportation to the event. I hope to see you all next year for a new installment of Dog Day Afternoon in Los Angeles.















Thursday, July 15, 2010

Echo Park, Los Angeles - 100 Years Ago


Echo Park Lake - from a family photo album - July 1910

Echo Park Picnic - from a family photo album - July 4, 1910 or 1913

Echo Park Kodachrome slide - from Madge Donohue's photo album - 1959

My friend Madge in front of her Clinton St. house, Kodachrome slide - 1959


Echo Park Lake, digital snapshot from condo across the street - 2010

On a muggy day in July of 1910 friends and family gather at the Echo Park Lake in the city of Los Angeles for an afternoon of conversation, food and celebration. Among the lotus leaves, a three legged dog swims after a stick, propelled into the lake by his owner and just as quickly, returned to him for another go around. Two old men engage in a game of checkers on an old wooden board which is hand colored with black and red squares. They pass a flask back and forth and ponder each other’s next move on the homemade checkerboard. One is an out of work carpenter that will soon be working at the Mack Sennett Studios and the other is a drifter from Muncie, Indiana. On the other side of the lake, a group of girls gather under a palm tree and softly whisper to each other about a young man that is riding his bicycle around the lake. He is but 23 years of age, with a slim build and is wearing a straw hat and the only coat he owns, a wool button-down that is much more suited for the winters of Iowa where he has recently arrived from. The whispers quickly turn to giggles as his straw hat escapes him and blows into the lake where it floats away to the center of the water and away from reach. Off in the distance the humming of the oil derricks that are rich in Echo Park can be heard, as a lone Victorian home barely in its teenage years sits atop of the hill overlooking the festivities of the day. A loud bell is rung by the matriarch of the family that has gathered at the lake this afternoon signaling that food is being served. As two dozen friends and family members make their way to the picnic area, the drifter from Indiana abruptly ends his game of checkers and roams to the site of the picnic where he politely asks to be fed, his breath smells of rye.

It's July 1910 in Echo Park and a few years later the sounds of heavy construction will dominate the neighborhood as Aimee Semple McPherson’s Angelus Temple begins to take shape across the street from the lake on Glendale Blvd. In the mid century decade, the West Coast sounds of Art Pepper’s alto saxophone could be heard in the late evening hours as he plays his horn on the porch of his Echo Park craftsman residence. About the same time, my friend Madge Donohue arrives from Oswego, Kansas and moves into a house on Clinton Street overlooking the lake where she lives alone until her death in 2004. In the early 1990s, the sights and sounds of a film crew fill the conversations at the Pioneer Market located at the intersection of Echo Park Blvd and Sunset Blvd as Allison Anders’ “Mi Vida Loca” is being filmed in the neighborhood. Today, young bohemians transplanted from all over the country line up around the block to hear live music at the popular EchoPlex music venue on Glendale Blvd. It's mid July and the summer heat has arrived.







Thursday, July 1, 2010

Post Office - Charles Bukowski Slept Here

A WWII soldier on leave in front of the LA Post Office Terminal Annex, back of the photo reads "March 15, 1943"

Lost in Time - The Los Angeles Post Office Annex Downtown Los Angeles 2010

Bukowski’s bungalow in East Hollywood – I wonder if my writing would improve if I lived here ?


Charles Bukowski, a German born poet, short story author, novelist and Los Angeles High School graduate (class of 1939) is as much an icon as any creative soul of the last century. Once called the “poet laureate of the lowlife”, Bukowski wrote in an auto-biographical style using his alter-ego, Henry Chianski to portray his real life beatnik adventures of wine, women and debauchery in downtown and East Hollywood neighborhoods. His first novel, “Post Office” published in 1971 follows the story of the protagonist Henry Chianski, as he becomes a substitute mail carrier and then later a full time mail clerk at the Los Angeles Post Office Terminal Annex located on Alameda Street in downtown Los Angeles. The story echoes the author’s plunge into the world of punching a clock for a living, allowing him to pay the rent while he put pen to paper, whiskey to lips and producing some of the best literary works of a generation.

A few years ago there was a movement to give historical-cultural landmark status to Buk’s one time Hollywood bungalow located at 5124 De Longpre Ave where he lived from 1963 to 1974. “Post Office” was penned at this location in between stints of womanizing and boozing, paving the way for his 1978 novel, “Woman” which takes place at the funky bohemian Spanish bungalow court. The effort for landmark status was bitterly disputed by passionate Bukowski fans, who did not want his memory commercialized, but they eventually lost the battle and a “Bukowski Court” sign now stands on the street which is also the flagship stop of a bus tour celebrating the late poet’s haunts. I realize I am not the first to think of it but the ultimate and most ironic celebration to his life would be renaming the post office where he worked during some of his many creative peaks to the “Charles Bukowski Los Angeles Post Office Terminal Annex”.

His novel, "BarFly" was made into the 1987 film starring Mickey Rourke as the ever compelling Henry Chianski and Faye Dunaway as his drinking partner and love interest, Wanda. In the opening credits of the film you can see several dive bars that Bukowski frequented in the MacArthur Park and East Wilshire neighborhoods of Los Angeles. Many of these bars are long gone today. Look closely and you will see Buk as he sits at the bar during one of the bar scenes in his only cameo appearance.

Buk…if you are reading this somewhere, your prose continues to inspire me and can you please check my grammar and spelling, the next round is on me.




Saturday, June 26, 2010

The Dodger Schedule - Then and Now


My 1976 Union Oil Dodger schedule, more than likely torn up after an aggravating defeat and then immediately taped back together.


Ricky and I - standing to the side of my Sunset Junction house on our way to a Sunday Dodger game - 1979

In the 1970s nothing entertained me more than following the Dodgers and listening to Rock N’ Roll music. My guide to navigating my pre-teen and teen social calendar during those wonderful Summers was a yearly issued Union 76 tri-fold Dodger schedule that I religiously kept in my pocket at all times, assuring me that I would never miss the start of a game.

Homework, friends, teenage rebellion and spinning records on the family’s turntable played second fiddle to listening to the great Vin Scully call the Dodger games night after night on my portable Japanese transistor radio. If the game was televised, I would have the luxury of turning down the volume on the Zenith console television for a an inning or two and play KISS and Rolling Stones records while I watched the visuals of the game and kept the score in my head. Listening to “Detroit Rock City” to the muted whack of a home run or “Cant You Hear Me Knocking” to the silent whiff of a strikeout made watching the game a unique experience.

When we got a little older, my friend Ricky P. and I would catch the 42 Sunset bus just down the street from my Sunset Junction family home and arrive at Elysian Park Ave in less time than it would take to hear The Who‘s “Wont Get Fooled Again“ on the radio. Upon exiting the bus we would gaze up at the foreboding task before us and subsequently eclipse the steep hill leading to the stadium by foot without ever breaking a sweat. After the game ended, we would review it inning by inning as we walked home on one of those cool and breezy Los Angeles nights through neighborhoods that are much different today.

Times change. Today, I still keep one of those Unocal 76 tri-fold Dodger schedules in my car at all times, but the schedule has an entirely different function for me as an adult living in the densely populated metropolis of Los Angeles. In 2010, that tri-fold Dodger schedule acts as my Summer traffic consultant advising me of the dates and start times of Dodger home games so that I can strategically make alternate driving plans around the gridlock that forms on the Golden State and Arroyo Seco Freeways and on Sunset Blvd during game days. Planning ahead and avoiding the gridlock makes my drive to the Westside to visit family and friends or my arrival at a social event in Downtown Los Angeles, EchoParkLand and SilverlakeLand more timely and enjoyable.

On any given night Dodger Stadium still seats 56,000 Angelenos much like it did when it first opened in 1962, but we live in a more congested city today than we did 35 years ago thus making the commute around Dodger Stadium before and after a game much more challenging. I am still a fan of the Dodgers much like I have been my whole life, but at the end of the day whether they win or lose, my life the next morning remains unchanged as I live, work, and play in the great Southern California landscape.




Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The Sunset Blvd Bowling Alley and KTLA Studios

The stylish Jack and Peggy Ament on their Honeymoon in front of the Sunset Bowling Alley - Hollywood, CA - August 1940.



Back of photo with Peggy's notes.

Longtime KTLA news anchorman, Mr. Hal Fishman

Located at 5858 Sunset Blvd in midtown Hollywood, The Sunset Bowling Alley was once known as the world’s largest bowling alley with 52 lanes to choose from and hundreds of bowling shoes to fit any size imaginable. One could bowl in a different lane every week for an entire year just to avoid the monotony amongst the happy hour social gatherings of struggling screenwriters, union gaffers, studio secretaries and sound stage runners. With its Roman columns, this massive structure was originally built in 1922 for the Warner Brothers to function as their West Coast headquarters. In 1927 this location was used as the filming site for the first “talkie“ film, The Jazz Singer with Al Jolson but when Warner Brothers acquired the First National Pictures property in 1929, Harry, Al, Jack and Sam packed it up and moved their operations from Hollywood to Burbank. The building remained unused until it was purchased in 1939 and turned into the "mother of all bowling alleys", where Jack and Peggy Ament spent part of their Honeymoon knocking down pins almost 70 years ago. In 1964 the singing cowboy Gene Autry purchased the building and made it the home of KTLA studios where it still operates to this day. Today, KTLA and KCET are the only Los Angeles broadcasters that are still based in Hollywood, California. Slowly over the decades, CBS, NBC and even ABC once located in the sleepy Franklin Hills area of Los Feliz have all moved out of the “Wood” and onto greener more suburban pastures.

If you grew up in Los Angeles in the second part of the 20th century, you probably caught the KTLA Channel 5 news at 10pm with its iconic anchorman Mr. Hal Fishman. Hal was one of the most durable and well respected broadcasters of our times delivering the news night after night for 40 plus years with his somewhat dry but very likeable delivery. Hal rarely showed emotions as broadcasters are trained to do but a few times a year at the end of one of those slow news nights, he would come out of his shell as he concluded the evening’s broadcast with the segment of the surfing chihuahua in Santa Monica or the champion who consumed 53 hot dogs at a hot dog eating contest in Malibu. Hal Fishman passed away in 2007 and of course the Los Angeles nightly news has never been the same since.