I looked through hundreds of Joe Louis' pictures today before I finally found two from the Main Street Gym. Of course, since these are from 1939, this is the old Main Street Gym.
Photograph by Maurice Terrell / Los Angeles Times Here's Louis on March 28, 1939, with a local fighter named Ernest
"Dynamite" Jackson, a Pacific Coast heavyweight champion who later
became the first African American to get a referee's license.
Photograph by the Los Angeles Times This is Louis sparring with Paul Williams at the Main Street Gym in a photo published April 16, 1939, shortly before Louis' bout with Jack Roper on April 17, 1939, at Wrigley Field. Roper lasted 2 minutes, 20 seconds with Louis.
The statements in this ad may all sound remarkably familiar. In case you young people are wondering what's going on in this picture: Once upon a time there were service station attendants who pumped the gas (fill 'er up!) and handed you a charge slip. They even cleaned your windows and checked your oil. I know this is almost impossible to believe, but it is true. Really.
Sometimes you have to wonder where newspapers get their facts--at least I do.
Here's another take on the story of Zenobia Maddox.
A few things haven't changed. James Bedford Burton is just as dead as
before, shot five times and beaten with three different lamps during a
home invasion robbery. But many other details are different.
The Mirror interviewed Zenobia--here's the picture of her, with her
daughter Toni, and three very smashed lamps.
She said Burton and his partner bound
them with adhesive tape (The Times says they were tied up but alludes
cryptically to "binding tape"). Burton sent his partner outside to
wait for Zenobia's husband, saying: "If he gives you any trouble, kill
him."
But here, the stories diverge. The Times said that Burton put his gun
down so he could light a cigarette. The Mirror says that Burton put the
gun on a bed and began going through dresser drawers. While he was
trying to adjust a watch on his wrist, Zenobia got free and grabbed the
gun, the Mirror said. (Adjusting "a" watch? Was he stealing it? The
Mirror doesn't say).
"That won't do you any good. It's not loaded," Burton told Zenobia.
"I don't know anything about guns and am scared to death of them," she
said. "But I didn't believe him. I pointed the gun at the wall behind
him and pulled the trigger. When it fired I pulled the trigger again
and again, only I aimed right at him."
Zenobia continued: "I didn't think he was dead, so I broke three lamps
over his head. They were brand new ceramic lamps. They even had the
price tags still on them."
She heard a car outside grinding its gears, the Mirror said. "I
guess the other man thought discretion was the better part of valor. I
locked the door to keep him out but he didn't try to get in," she said.
If she hadn't died in 2002, I would send Zenobia Maddox some money for a couple of new lamps. She's awesome.
The suite from "Robin Hood" is playing at the Daily Mirror HQ as I post The Times obituary on Korngold, one of the great film composers of his generation. And he lived in the Valley!
My goodness. Well, this is too good not to share.
A few months before Korngold's death, Times Hollywood writer Philip K. Scheuer responded to recent articles in Variety and the New York Times puzzling over the popularity of soundtrack albums (please trust me, this actually happened). According an article by Fred Hift in Variety, film producers and distributors were stunned that the soundtrack album for "Around the World in 80 Days" had sold nearly 1 million copies. (And yes, as soundtrack collectors know, that thing is in every Salvation Army record bin in America).
But why on earth are soundtrack albums popular, Hift asks. "Music in these pictures was penned to help to create and underscore a mood set by the film. Heard by itself, some of that music doesn't sound like much. Some trade people speculate that the glamour illustration and screen names appearing on the album fronts do the trick. Others point out that in today's crazy inflation, Americans are buy-happy."
Scheuer ticks off a list of current, popular soundtrack albums:
"The Man With the Golden Arm," "Saint Joan," "A Face in the Crowd," "The Pride and the Passion," "Picnic," "The Ten Commandments," "The Rainmaker," "The Sweet Smell of Success," "War and Peace," "Baby Doll," "An Affair to Remember," Band of Angels," "Trapeze," "Men in War" and the Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and Eddy Duchin stories.
All of which were dismissed by legendary New York Times music critic Harold C. Schonberg.
"Take away the film and let the music stand on its own. Then what? The chances overwhelmingly are that the product suddenly becomes synthetic, a collection of musical banalities and inanities. What may work in a film does not necessarily work elsewhere," he wrote.
For example, Schonberg wrote, " 'Saint Joan' has a medieval setting. Thus (Mischa) Spoliansky has inserted into his score many sections of a quasi-modal character, even resorting to a basse dance at one point. The scoring, however, pays the usual debt to Rachmaninoff. One organ interlude could be by Franck. A big Hollywood musical sunburst ends the score.
" 'The Pride and the Passion' has a Spanish locale and (George) Antheil throws in the works--Albeniz-sounding Iberianisms, flamenco, nightclub-like heel and toe suggestions, and sections that nod fraternally to Ravel's 'Bolero.' What a hodgepodge!"
Scheuer concludes that although some composers (like Korngold) write good music, they are the exceptions that prove the rule. "These scores just do not stand up as hi-fi listening."
A trip to the archives clears up the mystery about what became of the Hippodrome. As I suspected, the back of the theater was demolished, but the facade was saved.
Photograph by the Los Angeles Times Notice that the Main Street Gym doesn't seem to have set up business yet (the sign over the door reads "Here Television," although a 1984 article says that the gym moved to 318 1/2 S. Main in 1951 after its old building across the street burned down). There's a cafe at 318 S. Main, which was replaced with Mexico Luggage and a barbershop by 1984.
Notice that the building was also called the Adolphus Theatre. This is another mystery. According to The Times, the Adolphus opened on Main Street "across from the Belasco" (335 S. Main St). on Nov. 27, 1911. It vanished from the clips after July 14, 1912. The Hippodrome opened Aug. 31, 1913. A one-year gap would allow for construction of another theater (the Hippodrome seated 3,000 while the Adolphus seated 1,450), but I can't find anything in the clips. Stay tuned...
Photograph by Jack Carrick / Los Angeles Times And here's the demolition of the Hippodrome's proscenium, Oct. 26, 1952.
Brian Hanrahan, one of my friends at the website, asks if there are any historic pictures of the Coliseum at the Daily Mirror HQ.
The answer is "of course." In fact, here's a photo showing Los Angeles police officers at the Coliseum.
Photograph by the Los Angeles Times Here are Mayor Porter (in the white suit) and Police Chief Steckel inspecting LAPD officers on May 23, 1933.
Photograph by the Los Angeles Times
Los Angeles County Supervisor Beaty and Sheriff's Capt. Cannon inspect new Harley-Davidson motorcycles (with an amazing innovation: front-wheel brakes) at the Coliseum, Jan. 12, 1928.
And here are some images of the Coliseum from the Olympics. No, not the 1984 Olympics, the 1932 Olympics! These photos are from a large series of pictures published in Germany in the 1930s.
And another view
And here's a mystery photo. Who is this distinguished-looking gent in the VIP box?
Avery Brundage? Interesting guess. But no.
Gov. James "Sunny Jim" Rolph Jr.? Very interesting guess. (But no).
But the Hippodrome was supposedly torn down in 1952 for a parking lot. I started wondering if the facade was saved for offices.
Then I noticed this about the interior of the Main Street Gym in another 1976 photo:
Photograph by Marilynn K. Yee / Los Angeles Times
What's in the background? It looks like a small proscenium.
Here's a detail.
Look at the light sockets in the archway.
I wonder if the Main Street Gym was in some upstairs dance hall at what used to be the Hippodrome. If anyone can shed light on this little mystery, let me know...
The last bad decision in James B. Burton's 42 years of bad decisions was to light a cigarette.
Because to light the cigarette, he had to put down his gun.
Of course he had been drinking, which is not necessarily a bad
decision, but it is a poor choice if you've taken a woman and her
teenage daughter hostage and are threatening to kill them as you wait
for the husband to get home so you can rob him.
Maybe Burton didn't think he needed to worry because Zenobia Maddox,
32, and her daughter Tony, 15, were tied up. And because his partner
was outside the home at 4715 S. Gramercy Place waiting to ambush Thomas Maddox, a real estate agent.
James Bedford Burton was an old, seasoned criminal who had served time
in Kentucky, Nevada, Utah and California and had a record going back to
1935. He and his partner forced their way into the Maddox home by
trying to collect on what they said was a bad check.
The men tied up the two women and while his partner waited outside,
Burton ransacked the home, threatening to kill the family if they
didn't find any money. As he rummaged through the house, he drank from
a liquor bottle and continued threatening the Maddoxes.
In the meantime, Zenobia managed to work free of her restraints and
when Burton put down the gun to light a cigarette, she grabbed the
pistol.
Burton told her that the gun wasn't loaded, but she proved him wrong--five times.
Then she got a lamp and beat him with it.
Then she got another lamp and beat him with it.
Then she got a third lamp and beat him with it.
After being shot five times and beaten with three different lamps,
James Bedford Burton was not feeling too well. In fact, he was pretty
much dead. And his partner was long gone, having run off when he heard
the gunshots.
Zenobia A. Maddox died May 6, 2002, according to the Social Security Death Index. Nice work, ma'am.
Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times Here's 307 Tamarac Drive, where Harvey F. Rawlings killed his family and committed suicide.
And this is 555 Avenue 64, where Harold Oilar killed his family in 1954.
And here's the home as it appears today
Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times
How terribly tragic and utterly needless. Whatever problems these men had, surely there was nothing so great or so permanent that could explain or justify their actions.
Everybody says the Rawlings family are fine people. They have a big house at 307 Tamarac Drive in San Rafael, one of the finer neighborhoods in Pasadena.
Nice house, isn't it? Four bedrooms, two baths, 2,300 square feet by
the arroyo. Maybe you'd figure whoever lived here was happy. That's
what the neighbors thought about Harvey Francis Rawlings Jr. They were
wrong.
It's about 5 a.m. and still dark outside. This is a bloody, nasty
crime scene that involves a couple of kids. If you don't want to go in,
that's fine with me.
OK, keep your hands in your pockets and don't touch anything.
Quite a place, isn't it? The whole house is wired for the hi-fi system.
Harvey is a 43-year-old attorney with a legal practice in Pasadena. Has
an office on East Green Street. Except for a round of golf now and
then, Harvey's life is his job.
His wife is named Marjorie Ruth but she goes by Ruth. She's 43, a UCLA
graduate, sorority girl--Gamma Phi Beta--and keeps busy with women's
clubs like the Lawyers Wives of Pasadena.
They have two boys. The older one is Robert. He's 16. The younger one
is Raymond. He's 12. For a while they thought Raymond was mentally
disabled, but it looks like he was just partially deaf and the doctors
have been treating him for it.
Nice home, good family. You'd think Harvey would be grateful a few days
before Thanksgiving. But underneath whatever looked like success, his
life was a mess. He was worried about Raymond and deep in debt from
some bad investments.
This is him, lying in the bathroom with a bullet between the eyes.
Let's keep going.
This is Ruth, lying in the hallway. From the way it looks, Harvey
attacked her first by beating her in the head with a brass ball peen
hammer. Then he went into Raymond's room and shot him as he was
sleeping.
Looks like the gunshot woke up Robert because he's lying next to his
bed. Police will figure that Harvey shot him as he was getting up.
Ruth wasn't dead though. You can see her trail of blood where she went
into Raymond's room and bent over him. Then she came out here to the
hallway and Harvey shot her twice in the head.
These are their cats, Charcoal and Cinder. One of the neighbors heard
screams and shots but "didn't want to interfere." He'll get home from
work tonight and wonder why the Rawlings home is so quiet except for
the cats yowling because they are hungry. He'll get a ladder and look
in one of the windows.Then he'll call the police.
We don't know exactly what made Harvey go crazy. Before he killed
everybody, he called a doctor and said he was under enormous strain.
The doctor wanted him to come over to the office right away, but Harvey
refused. Other attorneys say Harvey was having a hard time but seemed
to be "over the hump."
Nice folks, the Rawlings family. The neighbors say they are "wonderful people."
Some will say this reminds them of the
Harold Oilar case. That was the Alhambra rug dealer back in 1954 who
slaughtered his family with a hatchet a few hours after having friends
over to sing Christmas carols. There was a little girl, one of his
daughter's friends, sleeping over and he made her go out on the porch
before he finished everyone off. Less than a mile from here at 555 Avenue 64.
He didn't manage to kill himself, though. They found him hanged with some towels on death row in San Quentin.
Here's an update on two stories we have been following....
After 98 witnesses and eight weeks of testimony, the prosecution is about to rest in the murder trial of L. Ewing Scott.
Throughout the trial, the defense raised objections that there was no evidence Evelyn Throsby Scott was dead because no body had been produced. However, the motions were always overruled by Judge Clement D. Nye.*
Meanwhile, Caryl Chessman is getting a new defense attorney and awaiting a decision on whether the manuscript of a proposed book, "The Kid Was a Killer," will be returned to him. The manuscript was seized in 1954 by Harley O. Teets, the late warden of San Quentin.
Photograph by Dan McCormack / Los Angeles Times Deputy Atty. Gen. William Bennett, left, watches as San Quentin Warden Fred Dickson displays the manuscript of Caryl Chessman's "The Kid Was a Killer," which was seized on the belief that it was "prison labor." Chessman is flanked by attorneys A.L. Wirin, left, of the American Civil Liberties Union, and Paul N. Posner. The man in the background leaning on a counter is Dist. Atty. William R. McKesson.
Photograph by Bruce H. Cox / Los Angeles Times
Chessman finally received the manuscript, a novel about a boxer, in December 1957, from Lt. L.T. O'Brien of San Quentin. It was published in 1960.
Frank Little, 40, was a brilliant scientist, a husband, the father of
three children--and he was terribly unhappy being a man, according to
an Associated Press story from Rosyth, Scotland.
Little said that his psychological and biological systems had started
changing recently. "About 10 months ago I began to go out with my wife,
dressed as a woman," he said.
Appearing at a news conference with his wife, Little wore a green coat,
nylons and high heels, the AP said. He carried a red purse and wore
makeup and jewelry. He announced that he would be "changing sex," the story
said without elaborating.
Little planned to continue dressing as a man to comply with the
requirements of his electronics research job at an Admiralty research
facility, the story said. Otherwise, he intended to take on the role of
his wife's sister.
His wife, whose name was not given, said: "There will, of course, be
some cruel people who will cause our children a great deal of anguish,
but we have to decide for the best. My husband and I think there will
be more benefits for the children if the home is not broken."
She added: "I have now learned to accept it and I now feel toward my
husband as a sister and I believe we can still keep our home a happy
place for all of us."
Unfortunately, neither the AP nor The Times followed up on this story, coming five years after the sensational case of Christine Jorgensen. In fact, I cannot locate any further information anywhere about Frank Little. As always, we can only hope for the best.
If anyone knows anything more about the Little family, please: Email me
The scanner at the Daily Mirror has been working overtime on the Brenda Allen photos. It's interesting to put all the battered old pictures in order and go through them, as if you can pick up a feeling for someone. She dressed quite demurely for her court sessions and often wore the same outfit. She always had a hat and she always wore sunglasses.
Brenda Allen was a lady who wanted to disappear and after her divorce in 1961, she dropped out of sight.
Los Angeles Times photograph Here she is in 1950 with her longtime attorney, Max Solomon. I think this photo captures a bit of personality. Note the gloves and the suit--the Hollywood vice queen always wore a skirt that fell below the knee.
Larry Harnisch. The leading Black Dahlia expert and a collaborator in the 1947project, Harnisch has been a copy editor at The Times since 1988. He has appeared on many TV shows discussing the Dahlia case, notably "James Ellroy's Feast of Death."
Join him for a spin through old Los Angeles in the Mirror's radio car. Keep your eyes open for Mickey Cohen and Tempest Storm. It's quite a ride.
The reporter's badge belonged to Sid Hughes (1908-1958), legendary reporter who worked at nearly every newspaper in Los Angeles.
Keith Thursby. Keith has been an editor at The Times in news, sports and design since 1986. The Rams moved to St. Louis on his first day as assistant sports editor of the paper's Orange County edition. He grew up in Norwalk and lives in Irvine.
Larry Harnisch. The leading Black Dahlia expert and a collaborator in the 1947project, Harnisch has been a copy editor at The Times since 1988. He has appeared on many TV shows discussing the Dahlia case, notably "James Ellroy's Feast of Death."
Join him for a spin through old Los Angeles in the Mirror's radio car. Keep your eyes open for Mickey Cohen and Tempest Storm. It's quite a ride.
The reporter's badge belonged to Sid Hughes (1908-1958), legendary reporter who worked at nearly every newspaper in Los Angeles.
Keith Thursby. Keith has been an editor at The Times in news, sports and design since 1986. The Rams moved to St. Louis on his first day as assistant sports editor of the paper's Orange County edition. He grew up in Norwalk and lives in Irvine.