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“Heart of Oak”

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The Oak Forest at Descanso Gardens

The Oak Forest at Descanso Gardens

“Heart of Oak” is and has for more than 200 years been the official march of the Britain’s Royal Navy. If you want to hear the lyrics, see below:

For me, the connotation is somewhat similar: There is something about oak trees that exude both strength and beauty. At Descanso Gardens in La Cañada-Flintridge, there is a massive oak canopy protecting a host of other plants, most particularly the acres of camellias that Descanso is famous for. According to the park website:

Experience the giants in the Descanso landscape, the Coast live oaks (Quercus agrifolia). These trees, some centuries old, are the remainder of a forest that once blanketed the region. The Coast Live Oak typifies the natural Southern California coastal landscape. These trees are flowering plants and belong to the beech family (Fagacea). There are 19 species of Quercus native to California. The Coast Live Oak is an evergreen tree oak. Its natural distribution ranges from California’s Mendocino County along the Coast Ranges down to northern Baja California.

The Coast Live Oak is known as a “keystone species,” meaning that the tree supports the existence of hundreds of other species, including mammals, birds, insects, fungi, plants, and even reptiles and amphibians. The Tongva [Gabrielino] people who made this region their home relied on acorns as an important food source. The importance of the Coast live oak in the interconnected web of life cannot be overstated.

For me, the oak forest is the principal year-round draw. Because California is in the middle of a drought, the camellias are not as lush as in previous years, but the oaks are always evergreen. The pattern of intersecting branches as in the above photo are Zen-like in heir intensity and always make my heart glad.

Boxing Day at the Hart

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The William S. Hart House in Newhall, CA

The William S. Hart Ranch House and Museum in Newhall, CA

In the United Kingdom, the day after Christmas is celebrated as Boxing Day. It has nothing whatever to do with pugilism; rather, it commemorates the day that servants and tradesmen received a “Christmas Box”—fortunately, not on their ears—from their employers, by way of a gift.

As today was not a working day for me, Martine and I decided to visit the William S. Hart Ranch and Museum in Newhall. On the way, we decided to try Brett’s Deli in North Hills, but the place was so mobbed at we just wrinkled our noses and shook our heads, proceeding instead to Maria’s Italian Deli in Newhall, where we had a good lunch.

Why do I keep returning to the Hart Ranch? This must easily have been our seventh or eighth visit. Each time, we take the quarter mile trail up the hill for free tour of the house given by a docent. On the way down, we look at the herd of bison donated by the Walt Disney Company to the ranch in 1962. I guess there was something about the silent cowboy star that appeals to me. I still watch his movies. Today, in the old ranch house at the foot of La Loma de los Vientos, the Hill of the Winds, the name of Hart’s property, I viewed the last half of Hell’s Hinges (1916), in which the cowboy star wreaks horrible vengeance on an evil town which kills the preacher with whose sister Hart has fallen in love. Hart was the first big cowboy star.

During the 1980s, I was personally acquainted with the actor’s son, William S. Hart, Jr. He taught real estate at Cal State Northridge (CSUN), and he invited me several times to give a guest lecture on my specialty, the use of census and other government data for site research. (At one time, I was an expert on the subject.)

It was a cold and windy day at La Loma de los Vientos, but not unseasonable. Newhall is near the canyons attached to the transverse mountain ranges that have been the epicenter for so many earthquakes in recent years. They are also a racecourse of the winds originating in the Mojave Desert and blowing the smog out to sea.

 

 

Couldn’t They at Least Get Crimea in Exchange?

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Russian Yakovlev Yak-3 Fighter from World War Two

Russian Yakovlev Yak-3 Fighter from World War Two

If you’ve seen the above photograph, it was in February 2013 when I wrote a posting about the Museum of Flying in Santa Monica. At the time, I was impressed by the Yakovlev Yak 3 fighter. When Martine and I looked for it today, we were told that the museum gave it as a gift to the Russian people. Did the Russian people give anything in exchange? Not really, but the Russian Consulate in San Francisco did send a Christmas card.

According to one aviation website:

Design began at the end of 1941 of a single-seat fighter using the new VK-107 engine, requiring the least-possible drag, smallest dimensions and weight consistent with a manoeuvrable and tough machine. Due to delays with the new engine and pressure to build the maximum number of aircraft already on the production lines, this new Yak-3 programme was shelved. A new small wing was developed and tested along with other changes on a Yak-1M in late 1942, and the first Yak-3 prototype was flown in late 1943. Although evaluation aircraft flew in combat, the first series Yak-3s did not enter operation with the 91st IAP until July 1944. The Yak-3 was found to be an exceptional dogfighter at altitudes up to 4000m. Its improved performance was remarkable, particularly as the initial non-availability of the VK-107 engine forced reliance to be placed on the VK-105PF-2 that had powered earlier Yaks. Built to a total of 4,848, the Yak-3 achieved fame and a very high score rate against German aircraft in 1944-45. The Yak-3 equipped the famous Free French ‘Normandie-Niemen’ unit, and achieved its peak of perfection when the VK-107A engine of 1268kW became available in limited numbers from August 1944, the type’s maximum speed then improving to 720km/h at 6000m.

Russian fighter pilots and ground crews actually preferred the Yak 3s to the P-51s and Spitfires being sent via Lend Lease. Could it be because the instructions were in Russian?

 

 

“Angels We Have Heard on High…”

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Christmas Angel at Grier Musser Museum

Christmas Angel at the Grier Musser Museum

Martine and I don’t go in for celebrating Christmas in a big way, but we like to visit the holiday show at the Grier Musser Museum and look at all the decorations, some dating back to Victorian times, some as new as yesterday. Susan and Ray Tejada have accomplished no less than providing a popular history of Yule memorabilia. Most of the displays did not cost much at the time they were printed or manufactured, but they are the type of “stuff” that people fill impelled to discard because it tends to fill all the available space.

I have always loved the three candle-holding angels (the leftmost one is in the above photo). They appear with a wide selection of greeting cards, pop-up books, commemorative dishes, figurines, paintings, “Depression glass,” music boxes, and other memorabilia relating to the season.

After we did the tour of the house, Susan took us downstairs to see the two television shows that the late Huell Howser did featuring the Grier Musser Museum. It is unfortunate that Huell, who taught us how to appreciate so much of California, is no longer with us. But it was his influence that led Martine and I to begin visiting the museum, which has become one of our own holiday traditions.

Santa Monica 1966-2014

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The Santa Monica Promenade Today

The Santa Monica Promenade Today

When I first arrived in Los Angeles between Christmas and New Year in 1966, the whole place looked brand spanking new. I had just arrived on the Santa Fe Railroad’s El Capitan at Union Station and saw a city very different from the grimy red brick and industrial pollution that was Cleveland. Within the first two days after my arrival, I took the Santa Monica #3 bus from San Vicente and Barrington down to the Santa Monica Mall, or, as it’s called today, the Promenade.

I was impressed by the neatness and cleanliness of the place. There were movie theaters, restaurants, bookstores (yes, several), anchored by a J. C. Penney at the north end by Wilshire. It used to be fun to visit Santa Monica. The place made such an impression on my friends that most of them still think I live in Santa Monica, rather than West L. A.

But now, I try to avoid Santa Monica, even though it begins a scant two blocks west of me. All the restaurants I loved are gone, replaced by places that are more pretentious and less tasty. The bookstores? Now there is only one, a Barnes & Noble at the Wilshire end. The movie theaters are sort of hanging on, but it looks as if the Criterion were history. The J. C. Penney store is long gone.

What changed? There are two ways of looking at it. On one hand, the city has become a ghetto for the 1%, with only a few downmarket neighborhoods along Pico Boulevard that escaped gentrification. Also, I have changed. My taste in food is probably far different from that of the 21-year-old that ate at Castillo’s (the daughter of the owner was muy guapa), Las Casuelas, Marco Polo, Chowder Call, the Broken Drum (“You Can’t Beat It!”), the Little Inn Swedish Smorgasbord, El Tepa, the Great American Food & Beverage Company, and the El Sombrero on Fifth Street. Somewhere between Santa Monica becoming too hoity-toity for me, and my own self developing into another person, I found the place chilled me.

Oh, I still use their excellent library—though I have to pay for the privilege now. But Martine and I almost never eat in Santa Monica any more. Today, for a change, we ate at the El Cholo on Eleventh and Wilshire. And we regretted it.

The Chinese Garden

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Craggy Limestone Rock from Lake Tai

Craggy Limestone Rock from Lake Tai in China

Today Martine and I visited the Huntington Library and Gardens in San Marino. As usual, we started in the Chinese Garden, with its strangely impressive rocks such as the free-standing one in the above photograph. With Martine’s persistent tendonitis (or whatever it is), she seems to do better with light exercise, especially on a sunny day. We also put in about two or three miles of walking on the extensive grounds of the gardens.

The most spectacular gardens are the Chinese and adjoining Japanese gardens, together with the cactus garden and the lily ponds. The rose garden was still very much in bloom, though the herb garden—a particular favorite with Martine—is undergoing extensive replanting with the change of the seasons.

We are members of the Huntington, allowing us to go there any time for free.

 

 

Griifith Park Circa 1955

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Former Site of the L.A. Zoo (Until 1965)

Former Site of the L.A. Zoo (Until 1965)

Today Martine and I spent a few hours in Griffith Park just northwest of Downtown L.A. First I showed her the site of the old Los Angeles Zoo before it was abandoned and moved to a larger site a little more than a mile north. The rockwork was done by the WPA during the 1930s and looked fairly artistic—probably more so than the current zoo, which we don’t like visiting because of the endless construction and consequent poor pedestrian traffic management.

The old zoo site is surrounded by pleasant picnic tables unknown to the mass of visitors. Unfortunately, they are known to the legions of yellowjackets that inhabit the canyon.

Afterwards, we went to the Travel Town Museum up the road about three miles. An open-air transport museum first opened in 1952, Travel Town features an extensive display of old locomotives, passenger and freight cars, cabooses, and related railroading equipment. There is even a little passenger train that runs around the park.

Steam Locomotive with Peeling Paint

Steam Locomotive with Peeling Paint

Although most of the rolling stock is in sad repair (see the peeling paint on the steam locomotive above), the park is popular with parents who want someplace to take their kids without spending a fortune. Sometimes I wonder how long a place like Travel Town can continue to exist without a massive infusion of cash, which is very unlikely to ever happen. It would be a pity, because the place was full of little reserved areas for children’s birthday parties, both outfoors and in some of the passenger cars.

In any case, Martine and I enjoyed ourselves.

 

L.A. and L.B.

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Looking Across the Harbor at the Queen Mary

Looking Across the Harbor at the Queen Mary

At least a couple times a year, Martine and I like to spend a day in Long Beach. We park the car in the Aquarium parking structure and walk on the path surrounding the yacht harbor and along the ocean, halfway to Belmont Shores. Usually, it’s in conjunction with a visit to the Aquarium, but I prefer to go there early before all the strollers armed with ankle-killing spikes show up. Today, we just enjoyed the sunshine and the nice weather.

I always like to see the Queen Mary across the harbor, always remembering that in 1937 it brought my mother back to the United States by way of Cherbourg, France, and Southampton, England. Fortunately, I was able to take her to see the ship docked in Long Beach Harbor, where she was able to tour the luxury cabins which, as a steerage passenger, she and her grandparents never had a chance to see on their passage.

The beach city has been interesting me more and more since I started reading the Long Beach Homicide detective novels by Tyler Dilts, namely A King of Infinite Space and A Long and Broken Hallelujah. (That leaves only The Pain Scale before I’ve read his entire opus.) As I wrote in his review of A King of Infinite Space:

It’s good to think that noir has a future in Southern California, where it was born under the skillful pens of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. Tyler Dilts teaches writing at Cal State Long Beach. He comes to the genre with an extensive background and a rich frame of reference. In addition, he has such a good ear for the Long Beach area that I feel like dropping in at some of the restaurants he mentions and checking them out.

Long Beach has some nice areas; it also has some heinous slums. But then, I guess that goes for Los Angeles as well.

 

The World’s Greatest Epitaph

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And Who, Might You Ask, Was Mel Blanc?

And Who, Might You Ask, Was Mel Blanc?

If you were born under a rock in Uzbekistan, you may not ever have heard the voice of Mel Blanc. But if you’ve ever seen a Warner Brothers Cartoon that featured Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Sylvester the Cat, Porky Pig, Tweety Bird, Yosemite Sam, Foghorn Leghorn, Speedy Gonzales, Wile E. Coyote, Pepé le Pew, Marvin the Martian, or the Tasmanian Devil, you’ve heard just some of the wizardry of Mel Blanc.

Just to refresh your memory, here’s a little sample:

This afternoon Martine and I went to Hollywood Forever cemetery where many of the greats of Hollywood are buried. There you can find Rudolf Valentino, film moguls like Harry Cohn and Jesse L. Lasky, directors like Cecil B. DeMille and Edgar G. Ulmer, members of the Little Rascals like Carl “Alfalfa” Switzer and Darla Hood, and literally hundreds of Russians, Armenians, and Jews who have decided to spend a part of eternity at 6000 Santa Monica Boulevard. There is even the grave of aspiring starlet Virginia Rappe, who died of being raped at a famous party hosted by silent film star Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle.

But the best epitaph award clearly goes to Mel Blanc. After his death, Warner Brothers tried to find a replacement, but no one could match Melvin Jerome Blanc. He had a million voices, all of them clearly distinguishable one from the other, and they were all great.

Japangeles

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Get Your Fried Squid Legs Here!

Get Your Fried Squid Legs Here!

What I like most about Los Angeles is its rich texture of ethnicities, from the Mexicans of “East Los” to the Salvadoreños of Pico-Union to the Armenians of Glendale to the Japanese of Little Tokyo to the Russians of West Hollywood and the Koreans of Koreatown—I could go on for another four or five lines before running out of options—Los Angeles is a veritable crossroads, especially from countries bordering the Pacific.

Yesterday and today saw the first annual Japan Fair held in Little Tokyo. There was a full program of entertainment, most notably a seventeen-year-old boy who played the shamisen with the sophistication and maturity of a master. There were numerous interesting snacks, including several types of pancake dishes, which are apparently very popular in Japan.

We took the bus downtown as it cost much less than finding a good parking spot—especially as there was a sold-out Hello Kitty exhibition and convention a scant two blocks away. I did not want to mix it up with any of those Hello Kitty thugs: They are the worst!

Shamisen Player

Shamisen Player