kuaptic.: October 2005

Monday, October 31, 2005

Houdini Halloween pt.1

What better way to celebrate Halloween than to talk about Harry Houdini, the greatest magician who ever lived. He died on Halloween in 1926 and on that day for nearly 20 years thereafter, his wife tried to contact him by holding seances on the roof of the Knickerboacker Hotel in Hollywood. He starred in a few early movies even -- mostly silent pics and serials. And he lived here for a time, though he was based mostly out of New York.

These days, magicians seem somewhat fey, more like societally sanctioned con artists who do their work with funny camera tricks and carefully timed special effects. There was a time where magic actually took skill. And everyone knows, Harry Houdini had mad skillz.

Born Erhich Weiss in Budapest in 1874, his family emigrated to America when he was four years old. His father, a rabbi, settled his family first in Wisconsin and the in New York City. His name Harry, comes from "Ehrie," the diminutive of his name among his family. He became a professional magician at the age of 17, borrowing the name "Houdini" from his hero, French magician, Jean Eugene Robert-Houdin.

In the beginning, he did card tricks, and eventually moved up to escape -- specifically handcuffs, which got him entree into the world of vaudeville. By this time, he had met and married his wife, Bess Rahner. He began to perform all kinds of escapist stunts, including getting out of straitjackets, chains, and, one of his more famous tricks, The Chinese Water Torture Cell, where he was suspended upside down and chained up in a tank filled with water.

Houdini accomplished his daring escapes by dislocating his shoulders (his brother Theo, who had a shadow career as an escape artist, could only dislocate one shoulder, but Harry could do both), expanding his chest, wrists and shoulders (to make more room while he was being bound) and regurgitating strings, keys and other supplies.

In 1900, he toured in Europe and when he returned in 1904, he was a star.

Houdini Halloween pt.2

Houdini was the first magician to operate on such a scale. His earlier tricks were small. He and Bess switched places in locked trunks. He swallowed a needle and thread and regurgiated the needle already threaded. Later, his illusions and escapes were more epic. He went over Niagra falls, jumped, fully bound in chains, from the Brooklyn Bridge and caused an elephant to disappear.

Houdini made a second career for himself exposing fake spiritualists. Not only did he offer a prize to whatever medium could prove beyond a doubt that they had contacted the other side, but he also disguised himself and went from psychic to psychic in the company of a cop and a reporter. It was through this curious pursuit that he ran afoul of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -- once a close family friend, who believed in the supernatural quite passionately. After Houdini's death, he published a book in which he postulated the theory that Houdini himself was a psychic so powerful that he could block the powers of those he pretended to be debunking.

Despite having sought truth so desperately, Houdini's life lends itself to an abundance of apocryphal tales. In Los Angeles, people don't even know where he lived; his house in Laurel Canyon burned down, but people always think it's a different house, one more visible from the narrow canyon road. In a curious turn, many psychics claim to be visited by Houdini. (Extremely doubtful, as we'll soon explain.) Probably the most well known story was propagated by the 1953 film of his life, starring Tony Curtis. In the film, Houdini dies as a result of performing his famous Chinese Water Torture trick, which is completely untrue.

In fact, Houdini died of appendicitis on October 31, 1926. He was fifty-two. In the days before his death, a youth punched him in the stomach several times while he was unprepared, backstage after a show. This may sound unusual, but part of Houdini's performance was that he invited audience members to punch him, which he was able to withstand by tightening his abdominal muscles (don't try this at home kids!) Many thought this was what killed him. This is not the case; however, it may have prevented Houdini from seeking the medical help he needed.

Houdini, an adventurer to the last, had a bargain with his wife, that whoever died first would visit from the other side and give a coded message if such a thing were possible. Every year, Bess Houdini held a seance on the roof of the Knickerbocker Hotel in Hollywood. Every year, nothing happened. In 1943, at the end of the final seance, she blew out the candle she kept lit beside his photo, saying, you can only wait for any man just so long.

Friday, October 28, 2005

Griffith Park -- Cursed!

When the original owner of Griffith Park, Don Antonio Feliz died of small pox in 1863, he left his extensive land holdings to Don Antonio Coronel. Subsequently, his blind, destitute 17 year old niece, Dona Petronilla laid a curse upon the land that great misfortune would come to whoever owned it. One by one, Coronel's family died of misfotune and disease. He left the land to his wife, who married again only to have her husband try to divorce her and get the land for himself. The next owner tried to develop it as a dairy farm, only to have it wiped out by rain and debt. Finally, Griffith J. Griffith was pretty nuts and tried to shoot his wife in a Santa Monica hotel. He spent two years in San Quentin and then sold the land to the city of Los Angeles, who, as far as anyone can tell, has been bigger, more violent and full of smog ever since. Enough to make the chills run up your spine, isn't it?

Underground Lizard People of Los Angeles

No, it's not a joke. It's funny, but it's not a joke.

In 1933, an inventor, G. Warren Shufelt began going all over Los Angeles with a machine he built, with the belief that it would be able to detect gold and other treasure. Descriptions of the machine are a little unclear, but apparently, it used radio waves to detect the chemical and vibrational differences of different types of matter. The signal was expressed through a box with a pendulum in it.

According to Shufelt, his readings indicate that almost two thousand feet below the surface of downtown is an underground city in the shape of a lizard, consisting of large chambers, some of which were filled with gold (specifically, tablets which record the beginnings of humanity through the time of the Mayans) and treasure. These tunnels orginally ran west, under the Pacific Ocean (these were apparently used for ventilation) to a city that is now under the sea. He wondered at this civilization that was so advanced and so deep underground.

At some point, Shufelt met an old Hopi Indian, named Chief Little Green Leaf. Not only to Green Leaf believe Shufelt, he supplied the missing piece of the puzzle. He related an old legend about the Lizard people who had been driven underground by a huge meteor striking the Earth four or five thousand years ago. Though they were safe in their subterranean city, methane eventually suffocated them.

Shufelt acquired a permit from the city to dig at 518 Hill Street, then a vacant lot, on the condition that he would pay for everything and leave the land the way he found it and split any findings with the city. By the time the story hit the paper in early 1934, there were five shafts, some 250 feet deep. Then in March, work suddenly stopped and the holes were filled in. No treasure was discovered.

There are historic Chinese tunnels that run under downtown, and course, building basements, various city infrastucture items and the metro have allowed for digging hundreds of feet below the surface. It's widely accepted that nothing has ever been found. But some people feel that these tunnels exist and that only a select few have access to them.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Bread and Porridge

Bread and Porridge can always be counted on for two things -- delicious brunches and long waits. Going this weekend for the first time in awhile, we were pleasantly surprised. They've taken over the store next door and turned it into a coffee lounge. You can't eat there, but you can have coffee or juice and relax in deep leather couches and wide ottomans. A fantastic luxury for those of us used to the chilly wait on the street.

On our arrival, we were told that the wait would be a half an hour, but were pleasantly surprised to find that it was only ten minutes. Once seated, we ordered coffee in french presses (now they also offer espresso drinks and drip coffee poured from the silver pots borne about by waiters.) We enjoyed cream of wheat (perfect for such a cloudy wet day) with strawberries (it always comes accompanied with raisins, steamed milk and a round topped dish of brown sugar) and fabulous bacon. We understand the eggs are great, always served with black beans and salsa and numbers of different combinations. They also have stellar pancakes and french toast, which you can get in half orders to avoid temptation!

At B&P, they serve lunch as well, with quite a combination of sandwiches (grilled chicken and BLTs being stars) and fresh salads, as well as a few unusual items, such as brisket and beef stew (though only during the week. We think.)

Bread and Porridge isn't open for dinner, but if they were, we imagine that it would be pretty great as well!

Bread and Porridge, 2315 Wilshire Boulevard at 23rd Street

Sasquatch Sitings

In the 1970s, there were a number of reports of seeing large, hairy bipeds roaming around mountains and campgrounds. They frightened hunters and campers, startled housewives with their screams. It bears mentioning that the 1970s was when the hippie movement was in full swing, and a number of nomadic, hairy, nature-loving miscreants roamed the land.

Coincidence?

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Spooky Doings

Having a hard time scaring up some Halloween fun? kuaptic's got some ideas that don't involve going to amusement parks (cause they can scare up enough business on their own.)

The Queen Mary
Supposedly one of the most of haunted places in Southern California, the Queen Mary throws Shipwrecked, a Halloween bash, much like the parks with scary "ghosts" and mazes, but at least it's in an authentic haunting zone.
1126 Queen's Highway, Long Beach, CA

Dia De Los Muertos at the Hollywood Forever Cemetary
They pull out all the stops for this Day of the dead fest, held on Halloween proper, with crazy costumes, live music and food, not to mention "artisans." You know what that means! Tcochkes!
6000 Santa Monica Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA

West Hollywood Halloween Carnaval
No Halloween list is complete without mentioning the debauchery on Santa Monica Boulevard. Drag queens, families, fabulous costumes and rated x smurfs (oh my!) It is a must. Budget enough time to seriously serch for parking though, cause it's in short supply.
Santa Monica Boulevard btw. Doheny and La Cienega

Dia de Los Muertos at Olvera Street
This one is actually on All Soul's Day (11/1), the traditional Day of the dead, the way the ancient Aztecs did, with ceremonies, colorful altars, marigolds, sugra skull candy and more tchotchkes! All among one of the oldest parts of the city.

Hallowed Haunting Grounds
Deep in the valley you'll find a whole haunted block, replete with a tree of the dead, swirly fog and bone chilling sound effects, this free attraction is the way to go!
4343 Babcock Ave Studio City, CA

Rain of Rocks

In September, 1960, more than 200 rocks landed in a used car lot between 9:30 am and 2:30 pm. A man was seen throwing a rock but wasn't convicted. A scientist claimed it was a poltergeist.

Obviously.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Last Minute Couch

There was almost no couch this week -- perhaps they have been staying in out of the cold. In warm apartments while it's chilly and cloudy out is the ideal environment for couch. People sit on them more -- and that is like petting dogs to couches. They love it!

This particular couch has emerged from an apartment into the first sun in a few days and is clearly enjoying the sun. It looks relatively intact. Although it's not hiding (obviously not bright), it has a good chance of being scavenged before the dreaded garbage truck arrives.

Derby Update

The Derby is pretty far from out of the woods. In fact, we would say that the Derby is deep in the woods. We've covered the former location of the Brown Derby (Now a Louise's Trattatoria and the Derby) before, here on kuaptic. As we know, it's a storied place, full of LA history. And it's endanger. Developers want to take it down to build apartments and a Whole Foods.

We, at kuaptic are pro Whole Foods, however, not at the expense of history (also, the corner of Los Feliz and Hillhurst is already crazy enough.)

Now there is a Derby blog that you can visit (it's lovely) to keep track of all the Derby happenings.

There's a petition you can sign to (hopefully) prevent the destruction of such a historic location.

And finally, there are not one, but TWO meetings you can attend if you find yourself having a lot of extra free time --

The first is on Oct 26th and sponsored by the developer Adler Realty. It will be at the Citibank Building on Hillhurst.

The second is on Nov 10th in the auditorium of a local church at 2071 Dracena Ave. This second meeting is sponsored by the neighborhood council (www.ggpnc.org)
The neighborhood council will be making recommendations to the city based on what they hear on Nov 10th. Let's be sure to have a strong showing on Nov 10th ... don't let Adler "still the thunder" and undermine the meeting that may influence whether city planning approves Adlers' plans.
(from The Derby blog -- cause we know you're too lazy to check it out yourself!)

And there's the always helpful writing Tom LaBonge. His email is: tlabonge@council.lacity.org.
The derby asks that you cc them or bcc them at "savethederby@yahoo.com" or "derbylosfeliz@gmail.com" because politicians often "forget" the voice of the people.

As they say on the derby blog -- Long live the Derby!

Friday, October 21, 2005

Some of the most haunted places don't exist

Warning: Very little LA content...

Hi. So. Um. We know we reported earlier this week about the Roosevelt Hotel and how haunted it is. And we're sure it is. Well, if we believed in ghosts we would be sure it is. We've been combing the internet and other mediums for weird haunted LA things. And quite frankly, we've come up a bit short. Maybe it's the enormous amount of sun we get here. Maybe it's that celebrity is a sort of a cheesey fame that doesn't lend itself to the goose flesh and various other willies that come with a good ghost stories. Seeing Marilyn Monroe in a mirror, the notion of club kids encountering unusually cold patches seems a little warm and fuzzy.

Really good ghost stories have a history to them, an element of the unexplained that -- whether real or not -- make you feel a little scared. There's nothing like a good, midwestern story that took place two hundred years ago.

Unless... It's something posted on the internet, with just enough pictures to be convincingly strange. You get other people's reactions to the stories. Do they believe? Are they psychic and have opinions? Do they have complicated explanations that differ from the authors? You have no idea where this stuff comes from and no idea who has messed with it. It could almost be real. So here are a few scary ones to make the shivers run up and down your spine.

The Bell Witch -- This is the result of tons of research by one guy. It's the story of the haunting of a Tennesee family a hundred years ago. (and it's as true as these things get.)

The Incident -- This is probably the craziest of the bunch. Some guy tells the story about how he found a book in Germany with his surname on the cover and the weirdness he found inside -- before it was stolen from him. Check out the comments section. There are some real nutjobs out there.

Ghosts of Tombstone -- All based on one guy's weird photo at the tombstone graveyard. Definitely creepy, but won't give you nightmares as the site claims.

Mercy Brown -- There were a bunch of New England vampires in the 19th century. What was done to their bodies was almost more frightening. They were mostly turberculosis victims believed to be draining the life from others with TB. On this related site, there are also some cool photographs of abandoned graveyards, the stones jutting out of the forest floor.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Unidentified Driving Object

This ought to be a real treat for you paranoid, the government is out to get us (in other ways than the ones that show up in the daily news anyway) types. Reports (try Franklin Avenue for specifics) of blurry (another fave of paranoids) rocket shaped objects with full police escorts speeding down the streets near downtown.

Best Bar on the Westside? Liquid Kitty.

Oh. We love the Kitty. There's nothing like a gigantic dirty martini in a bar that is darker than it is outside while the hipster/ironic soundtrack plays all around you.

Part of the stylish family of bars that includes (west to east) Liquid Kitty, Three Clubs, Golden Gopher and the Broadway, that serve perfect drink (whether that means a Pabst Blue Ribbon, Mai Tais or champagne cocktails) in dark, unpretentious, sleekly decorated surroundings -- referrencing old Hollywood without feeling run down or nostalgic. They're easily picked out by their distinctive signage. The Kitty in particular, with it's martini glass that flashes green and then has a white cigarette light up in it (after the signature drink a martini made with well vodka and an unfiltered cigarette -- which you can't smoke inside.) They draw people from all social strata (and have none of that velvet rope nonsense). These bars have it all. It's best that the stahrs keep to the Spider Rooms and the Tropicanas of the city and leave the truly cool places for the rest of us.

Liquid Kitty, 11780 West Pico Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Elliot Smith and the Big Nothing, pt. 2

In 2003, Elliot Smith was clean and ramping up to the release of his next album. In his last interview, he seemed cheerful and upbeat. A couple of accounts of his last shows were that he was not only lacking (Elliot Smith shows were always feast or famine; sometimes they were transcendent, other times he muttered and forgot lyrics, played chords with a ham-fist) but that he seemed vague and distracted, like he wasn't quite there anymore.

On October 21, 2003, Elliot's live-in girlfriend, Jennifer Chiba, found him in the kitchen of their Echo Park home with a single stab wound to the chest. Initial findings indicated suicide, but there were no hesitation marks and there were tiny cuts on his hands that could be construed as defensive wounds. When the coroner refused to call it a suicide, Chiba stopped talking about the circumstances surrounding his death. The case is not yet closed.

We may never know which demons plagued Elliott Smith in the last moments of his life, but he left us with a treasure trove of dreamy, sad music, a rich legacy to a world he seemed to have such difficulty navigating.

We remember you, Elliott Smith.

If you would like to do more than read this website's account of Elliot Smith, you can:
Donate to the Elliott Smith Memorial Fund. (funds go to "Free Art for Abused Kids.")

Attend any number of Elliott tribute events around the country.

Go to the Figure 8 Wall, where fans can pay their respects.
4334 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, California.

Elliott Smith and the Big Nothing

Two years ago on Friday, October 21, 2003, Elliott Smith died. The intentions behind his death have not been confirmed, but sometime that day, Elliott met the Big Nothing.

Born Steven Paul Smith in Omaha, Nebraska, he grew up in Texas and Oregon. In high school, he began calling himself, "Elliott" as he felt that Steven was too "jock-like." Indeed, this encapsulates the crux of many of Smith's problems. He would assume the appearance of something and then he would become it. For instance, long before he became a drug addict, he wrote songs about being a drug addict. Before his death, he wrote many songs about committing suicide.

He was always musical, even writing songs when he was a child. In high school, he was in his first band, Stranger than Fiction. Later, he was in the band Heatmiser with his friend Neil Gust. During this time, he held a number of odd jobs including being a baker and a chimneysweep. Though Heatmiser became moderately successful, he felt creatively unfulfilled by the work -- feeling that he was playing music he didn't even like. His dissatisfaction brought an end to the band.

He released his first solo Album, Roman Candle, in 1994. In 1998, his song, Miss Misery from Good Will Hunting nominated for an oscar. He appeared in the awards telecast, and was mocked for his performance and his white suit.

Subsequently, he released albums, and grappled with his higher profile, his problems with drugs and depression. In 2002, he went to someplace called the Neurotransmitter Restoration Center to recieve a treatment involving IV bags of saline solution and amino acids to cleanse his system (this treatment has not been approved by the FDA.)

Elliott Smith had a tattoo of Ferdinand the Bull (from a popular children's book about a bull who, rather than fight, enjoyed sitting on a hillside, smelling the flowers), a symbol to him, of someone who wanted to live outside the expectations of the world. It was an admirable desire, even if it wasn't so easily accomplished. It endeared him to Indie kids all over the world, but especially those in his newly adopted home, Echo Park, an up and coming neighborhood near the hipster enclaves of Los Feliz and Silver Lake.

To be Continnued...

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Big, Fake Food

We found this photo while flicking through Flickr (a photosharing website). Downtown, a large piece of fake toast hanging from a crane. At last we have a big, fake alternative for people who don't like big, fake donuts.

Credit where credit is due. Photo by jillelizabethdavis.

Long Gone Couch

This is our second posting on this poor sucker. Now it's clearly given up hope. Cushionless it sits abandoned, far away from the protective sidewalk. Been there for a week, soddened by the rain, littered on...

Someone should just come along and put this guy out of his misery.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Here Comes the Rain Again

You may not know this, but as an LA based blog, we are contractually obligated to mention the weather every time it rains. Rain freaks Los Angelenos out a little bit. We're not used to it. Things collapse, there are landslides and the traffic snarls up. The news becomes ridiculous, stationing reporters in large yellow raincoats to report on each of the sprinkles around LA County. It seems silly and yet, it floods here. Things can get bad when it rains. Though it usually doesn't. The best thing is to stay home, if you can, curl up with a good book in a sweater, or wear a coat when you go out. These little pleasures, unique to rain in LA because we have it so infrequently.

kuaptic <3>

The "Boo"selvelt Hotel

These days, everyone is talking about the Roosevelt Hotel. After the painstaking restoration of its Spanish-Moorish lobby, with its hand painted beams, tiled floors and leaded glass windows, the hotel is home to the Tropicana Bar, new nightlife perch to the rich and famous. They don't hold a candle to the older residents of the hotel though. The Roosevelt is rumored to be haunted. Not just haunted either, but lousy with ghosts.

Built on what was once strawberry fields, the Roosevelt opened in 1927. The first academy awards were held here in 1929 (then they were called the "Merit Awards.") The Blossom Room was used for wrap parties, and other receptions (including those for the winners of Queen for a Day and This is Your Life.) In the 1930s, the hotel opened the Cinegrill for jazz performances, Great artists and writers like Hemmingway, Fitzgerald and Dali attended. Mary Martin and Eartha Kitt opened to rave reviews there in the 1950s.

It's said that Bill "Bojangles" Robinson taught Shirley Temple their famous staircase dance in the Lobby there. Errol Flynn supposedly made gin in the barbershop during prohibition.

Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift both stayed here; they say that their ghosts still wander the halls. Sometimes Marilyn is reflected in mirrors. When the wind blows off the desert, you can hear Clift playing his bugle. Even in the ultra hip Tropicana Bar, the ghosts have gotten past the red velvet rope and walk among the glitterati.

The Roosevelt Hotel 7000 Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA

Friday, October 14, 2005

The "It" Girl

We talk about "It" girls in this town. There's a new flavor every week. It could be Mischa Barton, Scarlett Johansson, Jessica Alba or (famous It girl who went nowhere), Gretchen Mol. We all kind of know what that means. A young starlet, largely untried but definitely gorgeous and sexy. But did you know that the phrase comes from one "It" girl? The original was the one and only Clara Bow.

Clara Bow was an original Hollywood legend; born into the tenements of Brooklyn, she broke through the class barriers to become a star. Though she began making movies in 1922, her breakthrough role was in It, based on the book of the same name by Elinor Glyn, who personally chose Bow for the part.

At that time, "It" meant a woman of the times, newly liberated, it was intimated that the main character enjoyed sex, though she slaps her date after a kiss. Clara herself was as freewheeling as her counterpart, but without Victorian hang-ups. She was romantically linked with Bela Lugosi, Gary Cooper, Gilbert Roland, director Victor Fleming and John Gilbert. Word spread and soon midwest moralists were calling Bow "a lowlife and a disgrace to the community." There was even a widespread rumor that she had slept with the entire USC football team (there was no truth to it.)

Being the "It" girl was both a windfall and a curse for Clara Bow, in a time when the phrase was controversial as well as complimentary.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

A vine grows in Bel Air

On the tram ride up to the Getty, the cares of every day life fall away, with the sight of the 405 receding into the floor of the Sepulveda Pass. As you rise up through the mountains, you gaze at the lovely homes of Bel Air, leafy trees and expensive facades. Suddenly, it falls away and you see something you never expected. A...vineyard? What is this, Napa? But no, it is a vineyard, smack in the middle of Los Angeles.

California natives and conservationists, Tom and Ruth Jones purchased the sixteen acre property from some people who had used it as a horse farm in 1959 (though they didn't start planting until 1978). The white clapboard house was built for Gone With the Wind director, Victor Fleming who let his friends keep horses in his stables as he was the only person living in the area at the time. They named it Moraga Vineyards after the street on which they lived. They claim that the gravel deposits make the soil like that of Bordeaux, France. They have over two thousand wine plants per acre. They were the first people to get bonded as a winery since the beginning of Prohibition in 1920.

The Jones' produce two wines. The Moraga White, first sold on the market in 1998, composed mostly of Sauvignon Blanc grapes and Moraga Red in 1993 (though it was the 1989 vintage) and is mostly Cabernet Sauvignon grapes with some Merlot as well. Both are aged in French oak barrels. They retail for between $70 and $124 a bottle and are served at the Bel Air Hotel as their "neighborhood wine."

When you long for a vacation, take heart. You live in wine country!

Moraga Vineyards, 650 North Sepulveda Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA
Not open to the public
No tours

William Desmond Taylor, Pt. 2

In 1920, William Desmond Taylor was living in one of a group of bungalows centered around a courtyard. He had recently fired his valet (no, not the guy who parked his car!) for stealing and crashing his car while he was in Europe. He was seeing a young actress, Mary Miles Minter. Her mother wasn't thrilled, because she herself had been dating the older director. Taylor was good friends (and perhaps more) with his neighbor, Mabel Normand, who he often argued with about her drug addiction.

On the night of February 1, 1920, Taylor retired to his domicile after a visit from Normand, to whom he had lent some books. At some point during the evening, a neighbor heard a loud crack and looked the window. She saw a young man walking unhurriedly around the property. Their eyes met and he seemed unperturbed. She thought maybe the sound had been a car, backfiring. Later, she felt the man walked strangely. Perhaps it had been a woman in men's clothing.

The next morning, Taylor was found by his (new) valet. He had been shot in the back. The frightened man called the studios before he called the police. (At this time, Hollywood had suffered just a few scandals and was interested in warding off a reputation for being a den of vice and inequity.) The studios called Mary Miles Minter and told her to remove any incriminating evidence. They then went in themselves and, according to some stories, planted a bunch of ladies underwear to cover up the fact that Taylor was gay. What can't be disputed was that the crime scene was compromised.

There were no shortage of suspects. His original valet, having cheated him and stolen from him, obviously, though there's no proof he was even in the state at that time. The other valet was also suspected for a time, though not with any seriousness (one reported led him to Taylor's grave where a friend jumped out in a sheet telling him he was Taylor's ghost and urging him to confess. The valet burst out laughing). Mary Miles Minter, and her Showbiz mom, Charlotte Shelby were also suspected. Many (including King Vidor, eminent director and Taylorologist) felt that Charlotte was the likely culprit, motivated by jealous rage by Taylor's supposed relationship with her daughter. (Minter's career was ruined by the scandal, though she claimed that she had always hated acting.) However, Shelby had an air tight alibi for the time of the murder.

Mabel Normand was suspected, but it was in doubt over whether they were even romantically involved. There was speculation that it might have been one Mabel's old beaux, Mack Sennett perhaps, or her drug dealer, who Taylor reportedly got into a fistfight with. Also proposed was Taylor's brother, Denis, who pulled a similar disappearing act, and was rumored to have been his first valet. Still others believe it was a hitman hired by any one of the interested parties. His killer has never been found.

William Desmond Taylor died much as he lived; shrouded in rumors and secrets. This is largely the fault of the studios, who, much as they do today, were more interested in covering their asses than anything else. But who knows. Taylor was something of a shady character. Perhaps he would have preferred it this way.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

William Desmond Taylor

William Desmond Taylor was precisely the kind of man who could, at one time, make it huge in Hollywood. He was a complete fabrication. He presented himself as a refined English gentleman, who was at the height of taste. In reality, he was from Ireland, had deserted his family and arrived in Los Angeles with no knowledge of film in 1910.

William Desmond Taylor was born in Ireland to a fairly well to do family in either 1872 or 1877 as William Deane-Tanner. Unable to get into the army, he went into theater. He did odd jobs to support his habit, eventually landing in New York City where he met and married his wife in 1901. They had one daughter. In September 1908, Taylor with no warning walked out on his family and never looked back. He drifted for awhile, panning for gold in Colorado, doing theater in San Francisco before winding up in LA.

His first movie role was in Captain Alvarez. He starred in a few films (in fact, it put him back in touch with his estranged family, who saw him on screen) before moving on to directing. He was an extremely successful director, making Anne of Green Gables, The Green Temptation, Davy Crockett, and Huckleberry Finn. He worked with all the major studios.

Taylor's life was interesting and adventurous. But it couldn't hold a candle to his death.

To Be Continued...

Fred 62

The first question you ask at Fred 62 in Los Feliz is, what is Fred 61 like? (Rocket ship interior with little tattooed girls in Jetsons outfits slinging hash?) And the second is, what about Fred 59? (Incredibly realistic robotic cheetahs serving food in the middle of something that vaguely resembles a submarine, but could just as easily be a boat?)

Then your imagination would be running away with you, because there is no Fred 59. There isn't even a Fred 15. There is just Fred 62. And that's not terrible.

Unfortunately, it's not that great either. The decor is original and fun, with the booths sporting 1950s car headrests and tiny lamps at each table having a rocket lamp with flames etched on. Walls are white with paintings that look like stuff you'd pick up at a (really bad) yard sale, but with words that sort of jump out at you.

The wait staff is busy and dressed in black rockabilly gear and not overly attentive. Clearly they've had the food. It's not that the food is horrible. It just isn't...good. Fries arrive cold and soggy, tahini salad is too much and kinda wilted. Turkey burgers taste like the ketchup you add. They have really big drinks, but in this day and age (where obesity is a problem -- and super sized drinks contribute to that condition) that's not necessarily a good thing.

Sheesh. Those eastsiders. In Los Feliz, even their mediocre diners are cooler than you are!

Fred 62, 1850 North Vermont Avenue, Los Angeles, CA

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

A Couch in the Shadows

This couch was keeping cool in the shade during the heat last week. Keeping it and its friend, known as "chair" in the deep shade. It was a good plan -- prevents fading, maybe even staves off dryness. Unfortunately, it is no match for the wiley garbage truck, which skulks the streets of Palms in all kinds of weather. They only lasted a day.

Friday, October 07, 2005

The Death of Thelma Todd

There are few facts about the death of Thelma Todd that anyone can agree on. She had purchased and was running the cafe with her boyfriend, director, Roland West. They lived above the cafe in adjoining bedrooms.

The evening before her death, he admitted that they had been fighting. It was a Saturday, and that night, Thelma was driven to a party being held for her in Hollywood at Cafe Trocadero. It was hosted by Stanley Lupino and his daughter Ida. Her ex, Pat DiCicco had requested to be seated next to her, but he arrived with a date and immediately attached himself to another group. Thelma was humiliated and fought with him. She proceeded to get quite drunk and confided to Ida she was seeing a rich businessman.

Meanwhile, back at the Cafe, West locked up. as was his habit, at two am. Todd left the Trocadero sometime before three. Though people claim to have seen or heard from her early the next day -- a pharmacist at 9:30 am in his business and a close fried claimed to have recieved a phone call, where she identified herself as "Hot Toddy, " (a well-known nickname) to talk about a party -- none of these instances can be verified.

It wasn't until Monday morning around ten-thirty am, that the maid found Thelma, slumped over at the wheel of her 1932 Lincoln Phaeton. Eventually, her death was ruled a suicide, though everyone said that 29 year old Todd was in good spirits.

A number of inconsistent facts quickly came to life. The coroner determined she died between five and eight am on Sunday. She was still wearing her party clothes from Saturday night, though she had peas and carrots in her stomach -- which weren't served at Trocadero. There were no signs of struggle -- he fingernails were undamaged -- but her nose was broken. Her sandals were clean, but the police determined that anyone climbing the outside staircase would have had dirty shoes.

A number of theories arose. The most sensational was that Lucky Luciano had been pressing Thelma to turn her club into a gambling joint. When she refused, he had her offed. It could have been an accident. Thelma, having been locked out of the house, went up to the garage and turned on the car to keep warm (or to go someplace) and fell asleep. But West said that she wasn't shy about waking him up when she got home and a key to the house was found on her person. There was a rumor that West confessed on his deathbed claimed that he had unknowingly locked Todd in the garage. After her funeral, Todd was cremated, leading people to wonder if there had been a cover-up by the notoriously corrupt District Attorney's office.

Whatever happened, Hollywood lost a star and we gained a mystery.

Thelma Todd's Sidewalk Cafe (closed to the public) 17575 Pacific Coast Highway

The Life of Thelma Todd

This December 16th, it will have been seventy years since Thelma Todd was found dead at 29, in the garage of her home. The car she was sitting in was still on. The exact cicumstances of her death remain a mystery.

Thelma Alice Todd was born on July 29th 1905 in Lawrence, MA. She was a lively child, always good at academics, and she wanted to be a schoolteacher. In college, her mother (who wanted her to be more than a "schoolmarm") encouraged her to participate in beauty pageants. In 1925, she won the Miss Massachusetts title, and was subsequently offered movie roles. She had a gift for comedy (though she also did drama and horror roles) and starred in over 130 movies. Transitioning easily from silent to talkie films, she worked with such venerated actors as Buster Keaton, Laurel and Hardy, Zasu Pitts and the Marx Brothers. Her bombshell look earned her the moniker, "The Ice Cream Blonde."

Like many in the industry, Thelma lived fast. She had so many car crashes, the studio eventually insisted that she had a driver. She was married briefly in 1932 to party guy, Pat DiCicco. their chief entertainment appeared to be drunken brawls, one of which landed Thelma in the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. They divorced in 1934. In the early thirties, Todd bought a piece of property on what is now called the Pacific Coast Highway, facing the ocean and built a structure that would double as her home (in the upstairs apartments) and Thelma Todd's Sidewalk Cafe, which was downstairs. The Cafe was a great success, catering to the entertainment and underworld crowds.

To be continued...

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Ackermansion!

You can always go to the Hollywood Wax Museum (which we understand is cheesey in that falling apart-no one cares way) or Madame Tussaud's (though the tickets are very expensive. Seriously. Who wants to pay that much to look at wax?) but all the cool kids go to Ackermansion, where owner, waxwork and proprietor, Forrest Ackermen -- coiner of the term "sci-fi" -- will show you his peerless collection of memorabilia of that genre including Bela Lugosi's cape from the Dracula films, the girl robot (you know the one we mean) from Metropolis, and the man-eating Brontasaurus from 1933's King Kong while he regales you with stories from working with such famous actors as Boris Karloff. Remarkably, he does all this without leaving his Laz-E-Boy (give him a break, he's 8 million years old!)

4511 Russell Ave, Los Angeles
Call for Saturday tours 323.moonfan.

Versailles

We're not big fans of Universal's City Walk. It's crowded, everything is all up in your face and parking is outrageously expensive. It is, in short, an amusement park based on Los Angeles, and not a very good one at that. It's full of shops, bars and karaoke, but has the feeling of being sanitized, for those tourists willing to travel here, but not particularly interested in actually seeing our city. In the food court (or whatever that is) there, they have a bunch of little places that are meant to be some of Los Angeles' signature eateries. Among them are Gladstone's, Tommy's Hamburgers and someplace that sells Dodger Dogs.

To really esteem the glory of Versailles, you have to experience the real thing. You have to go and wait in line outside, in the roar of traffic on Venice (or, all things being equal, La Cienega), before being ushered into the heavily air conditioned interior. There's no decoration really to speak of. Linolium floors and formica tables with worn chairs, this isn't going to be someplace you're going to find the glitterati. Instead, you'll find a diverse group of Los Angelenos from all walks of life enjoying some fabulous (if not diet friendly) food.

Everything on the menu at Versailles is served with rice and (fabulous) black beans, and generally fried plaintains as well. They're most well known for their garlic chicken, a moist and crispy half chicken drowned in sauce that'll leave you unable to kiss your mother for a week. They have good ropa vieja, and some amazing pork, as well as very simple salads of avocado, tomato and onions. The food isn't gussied up, or served in elegant, fussy towers, but it's hot, delicious and there's plenty of it.

Everybody thinks of Los Angeles as all asparkle with stars and neon. Universal can supply that without actual celebrities, but you have to leave that carefully manufactured place to find out what Los Angeles really is. Even if they do have Versailles there.

Versailles, 10319 Venice Blvd, Los Angeles, CA
1415 S La Cienega Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

Ugh!

More internet issues yesterday. Sorry for the lack of updates!

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Hitching Couches

We didn't think this couch could be hiding in plain sight, because it's not well hidden at all. We think it's trying to hitch a ride. Its posture says, "Look at me! I'm still new(ish), got most of my cushions. See I can flip them! And I am letha...you can stick to me in the summer. Aw yeah!" We're not sure if this is going to be a successful ploy, but we suppose it's as good as any other.

Red sun at night...

Driving on the 10 freeway last week, you could see the smoke, a bruise in the sky over Santa Monica, the sun sinking behind it gave an unnatural twilight, turning everything blood red, like watching a sunset on Mars. Breathing underneath that cloud also reminds you on the toxic surface of the red planet.

Monday, October 03, 2005

Whetting your Knife, pt. 2

As Ruth waited in prison to die, her cause was taken up by a number of people, and on the eve of her death, it was decided that she would be able to tell the grand jury her story. As a result, Jack Halloran was indicted but failed to be convicted -- Ruth fell apart on the stand testifying against him. It was thought that he bought his way out, though the court claimed that it was only Ruth's spurious vendetta against him that had him in court at all.

The trial turned public sentiment in Ruth's favor. She went to court. It was determined that she was not compitant and she was institutionalized. Once there, she seemed most sane. She was kind, helpful and seemed more like one of the employees. There was just one problem. She kept escaping. She escaped seven times -- the last for seven years. She lived under an alias, working as a servant in California. After she returned, she was released. She died at 93 in her sleep in 1998.

Many claim they believe she was taking the wrap for Halloran -- he bragged as much in some society parties. One thing can be sure. She had some good luck, but she didn't get a fair shake.

Whetting your Appetite

Today, random stinks cruising about Los Angeles go without comment by major newspapers, or city officials. In 1931, however, things were a bit different, especially when it was very clear where the stink was coming from -- two unclaimed trunks that arrived on the train from Phoenix.

Given, it wasn't unusual for passengers to travel at the time with raw meat in their possession, the security at Union Station was made suspicious by the behavior of the young woman who claimed the trunks (after they had been sitting around for hours.) Winnie Ruth Judd stuttered some excuses and got out of there. The security guards opened the trunk to the lurid vision of a face looking up at them. The bodies of two women were in the trunk, her supposed best friends, Anne Le Roi and Hedvig "Sammy" Samuelson. The police picked her up days later, bedraggled and hungry, whereupon she was returned to Phoenix to face trial. In 1931, Ruth, as she was called, was 26. She had been married to a doctor with a drug habit, and after two failed pregnancies, she contracted a touch of tuberculosis and left her husband in Indiana to travel to Phoenix. She had a job as a nurse there. She got a bob and began living fast in a city which still had something of the wild west outpost about it.

Jack Halloran became involved with Ruth and her friends. There's little question that he had a relationship with Ruth, and he may have had some sort with Anne and Sammy as well (though some tales paint them as lesbians.) The way Ruth later told the story, Ruth introduced Jack to an attractive friend and Sammy and Anne became very jealous. There were threats -- the kind that could destroy lives and reputations. Then Sammy attacked her with a gun and they struggled. Ruth was shot in the hand. Anne beat Ruth with an ironing board, imploring Sammy to finish Ruth off. Ruth got the gun, and it fired wildly, killing Anne and Sammy.

Over the course of the night, she called Jack Halloran (who was rich and powerful) and he said he would help her cover up the crime. He arranged the trip to Los Angeles, put Anne in the trunk and ended up dismembering Sammy to make them both fit. He said he would arrange for her to be picked up in Los Angeles, and then they could dispose of the bodies in the desert there. But he didn't.

The papers painted a picture of Ruth Judd as a femme fatale, a murderess and an adulteress. Some people were hard pressed to figure which was worse. At her trial, it was said that she killed her friends in cold blood (there was little evidence of premeditation, and she had obviously been beaten.) She was quickly convicted and sentenced to death. Jack Halloran was never even called to the stand.

To be continued...

kuaptic.