June 25, 1958

Someone apparently doesn't like Dorothy Adamson's fox terrier, which is missing after her apartment at 1034 Hilldale was bombed. An unidentified caller had complained about the dog's barking, The Times says. Alas, the paper never followed up on this story. And wedding bells ring for Jack Webb and former Miss USA Jackie Loughery, who met when Webb was casting "Pete Kelly's Blues." The couple are going to live on the Republic Studios lot, The Times says. They divorced in 1964. Email me

June 25, 1938

e have more fallout from Earle Kynette's conviction in the Harry Raymond bombing. On the jump, The Times reports that seven officers will face a police board of rights on charges of obstructing the Raymond investigation. Mayor Frank Shaw sends a letter to members of the county grand jury noting the achievements of the Police Department ... but more important, he also tries to remove Police Commission Vice President Charles W. Ostrom. An attorney, Ostrom has clients who include Milton "Farmer" Page, a leading underworld figure. Shaw says Ostrom should either quit the commission or stop representing Page. Ostrom, however, says he will "go out fighting."  Shaw was unable to remove Ostrom, who remained in office. But the victory was temporary... (Bonus fact: Ostrom died in 1959 at the age of 77). Milton "Farmer" Page, above, was a major underworld figure in early Los Angeles and was among the defendants in the case against Tony Cornero's gambling ship, the Rex. I'm going to have to dig up more about him; he sounds like quite a character. Email me

June 25, 1908

rue confession: I mixed up June 26, 1908 and June 25, 1908. I suppose that happens more often that one might suspect--or not. Readers either politely didn't bring it to my attention or didn't notice. Thank you for your diplomacy. To get to the point: The Times notes that the death of Grover Cleveland leaves the United States without a living ex-president. That will change when Theodore Roosevelt is succeeded by William Taft, but I'm trying to think of the next time the U.S. was in a similar situation. Certainly not in my lifetime. In the second section, eight people are injured in the head-on crash of two streetcars at the Arroyo Seco bridge. Passengers on the outbound streetcar blame the crash on inattention by the motorman, who was "working with his motor" before the streetcar collided with the inbound car from Pasadena. Note that one of the injured was taken home instead of going to a hospital. Also notice a meeting of Zionists for a fundraiser at the synagogue at Olive and Temple. Those who contribute to the cause can have their names inscribed in an elaborate "book of gold," The Times says.  Email me

June 24, 1958

t left, a nine-room home in an all-white neighborhood is heavily vandalized after being sold to an African American doctor and his family. The Times says vandals caused $15,000 ($109,315.53 USD 2007) damage to the newly redecorated home at 4240 Cerritos Ave., Long Beach, by putting  a garden hose up on the second story letting the water run all night; splashing bleach on the new carpeting; and cutting a huge hole in the carpet. Dr. Charles T. Terry said he still intended to move into the home, noting that he believed the vandalism did not reflect the feelings of his neighbors. The next day, 150 neighbors joined a nonprofit organization that would decide whether people were eligible to buy homes in the area. The group condemned the vandalism to the Terrys' home but said they needed to protect their property values by deciding who could buy a house in the area.  The City Council, meanwhile, passed a resolution saying that "people of all colors and creeds are welcome in Long Beach." Also note the killing of Police Officer Thomas Scebbi after he and his partner, Ramon Espinoza, pulled over about 2 a.m. on June 20 in front of 332 S. Kingsley Drive to question a man wearing white gloves about a series of liquor store holdups. Espinoza (The Times also called him Espinosa) was badly wounded and expected to die of his injuries, but he recovered to testify against James Eugene Hooten. Hooten was executed in the gas chamber for the killing, May 13, 1960. Email me

June 24, 1938

uestro Pueblo is a new discovery for me, and a very happy one. The Times began the feature by writer Joe Seewerker and artist Charles Owens in June 1938, publishing installments Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The series ended in October 1939 after Seewerker and his young son, Joe Jr., were badly injured in a car accident. The last installment bids farewell with a jaunty "hasta la vista." The series was published as a book with an introduction by The Times' Lee Shippey. And never mind the fallout from the Harry Raymond bombing, here's really important news: The two leads of "Gone With the Wind" have finally been cast, The Times says. The movie will star Clark Gable as Rhett Butler and Norma Shearer as Scarlett O'Hara. The Times says three supporting roles have been cast: Walter Connolly as Scarlett's father, Gerald; Maurice Murphy as Charles Hamilton, Scarlett's first husband; and Margaret Tallichet as Scarlett's sister Carreen. Of course, we know GWTW didn't quite turn out this way. Email me

June 24, 1908

loodshed and slaughter mark the beginning of the Persian Civil War, which lasted until 1909. In February, the shah, Mohammad Ali, escaped an assassination attempt when two bombs were dropped on his motorcade from the roof of a house. A driver and several "outriders" were killed, along with many spectators, but the shah was spared because he had sent the car ahead as a decoy while he was in another vehicle. In July 1909, Mohammad Ali fled to the Russian legation and his son Ahmad Miraza was proclaimed shah, The Times said. Email me

Los Angeles traffic

Page 26 Page 27

f only Ray Hebert had asked the right question. But how was he to know? Twenty years after Ed Ainsworth focused on a "motorway" system in his series on Los Angeles traffic, Ray Hebert examines the growth of Southern California's freeways. Unfortunately, there's no historic overview looking back at the state of the city's congested streets that led up to the development of the freeways. All we have is a point in the time line. Hebert focuses mainly on the progress of the various freeways under construction--and the  50-year-old map contains only a few surprises for today's motorists. (There's no hint of the Century Freeway). But here's the tantalizing part of his story. Hebert writes ominously: "The Los Angeles area will still be beset by freeway problems when most of the persons reading this story have given way to much younger men and women." Quoting Assistant State Highway Engineer Edward T. Telford, Hebert writes: "... freeways are a continuing thing. Our successors will still be working on them. They will still have problems." What problems did traffic engineers foresee in 1958? Here are some hints: "Although the system is far from complete, there are signs that some of the freeways converging at the four-level hub interchange have reached their maximum travel load.... "... Some motorists, for short, close-in trips, are going back to existing surface streets, which are being made more attractive due to efforts of local jurisdictions."    In other words, the downtown four-level was at maximum capacity 50 years ago. And people were already choosing surface streets for short trips because of congestion. Sound familiar? Email me

Mystery photos

 

As promised, here's a roundup of recent mystery photos, ready for a second guess. I have added some obscure, cryptic clues. Email me

Ronald and Nancy Reagan with a Hoosierland hoopster.

Theda Bara, right, and an actress from one of Dustin's most famous films. Marion Lorne? Oh, good guess. But no. Wrong Dustin. Winifred Kingston? (Alexa Foreman). Excellent!

Lily Pons and a man I'm sure you will recall. Mayor Frank Shaw? (Duane Laible). Absolutely right. Frank Shaw is declaring Lily Pons Day.

Eve Arden with an L.A. official who was a walk in the park. Supervisor Bonelli? An excellent guess. But not quite right. Los Angeles County Supervisor Ernest E. Debs? (Brady Westwater). Very good!

George Carlin, RIP

	aybe you remember him as Al Sleet, the "Hippy, Dippy Weatherman with the hippy, dippy weather ... man" or as Rufus in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" or the author of an incredible number of jokes that are  eternally circulating on the Internet. Or perhaps you have heard of his bit on the "Seven Dirty Words." Here's a transcript of the skit that got him in trouble. Below, an interview with Carlin last year. Email me
Oct. 4, 2007 By Mike Flaherty Special to The Times he acerbic stand-up comedian and social commentator is celebrating 50 years in show biz -- and last week's release of "George Carlin: All My Stuff," a 14-DVD collection of his HBO specials spanning 1977 to 2005. Although he shows no sign of slowing down, he did take some time to chat about his career, his healthy pessimism and our commander in chief. -- So, 50 years in show biz, huh? Does that number date from a specific gig? It dates from the day I took the air at a radio station in Shreveport, La., in 1956. You know what? It's really 51 years; we're fudging it a year just for convenience's sake. I was 18, and they had me do newscasts first, then I became a DJ two or three months later. Do you have a favorite among the 12 HBO specials on "All My Stuff"? Yeah, "Jammin' in New York," 1992. Prior to that period, I'd refer to myself in interviews as a comedian who wrote his own material. But that was the point where I probably became more of a writer who performed his own material. The material became more like essays, they became more socially conscious, and it was just a major jump from being what I think of as only an entertainer to being an artist-entertainer. I'm looking at the titles of your last few -- "You Are All Diseased," "Complaints and Grievances," "Life Is Worth Losing." If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a pessimist. ell, I am a pessimist as far as the world is concerned. I have absolutely low prospects for the human race; I have very low prospects for this country. For myself, though, very high prospects. I'm a personal optimist. How does one keep pessimism from making them miserable, souring their outlook, preventing them from embracing life? You can't care. You see, I don't care about the outcome in this country [or] on this planet because I know this is all temporal b.s. It's not a religious point of view, it's just realism. I like living somewhere detached from all of this emotionally. I don't really have a stake in the outcome anymore. bout 30 years ago, I became a person who said, "You know something? People aren't worth worrying about and caring about." One by one, yes; any time I'm with one person, I'm fine. There's all sorts of compassion and empathy in my heart. But when you consider them as a group, from a distance, I don't give a . . . about them. How about George Bush? Just a product of the American system. People always blame the politicians, and I say, "Well, where do you think they come from?" They are products of American culture, American society, schools, churches, communities, businesses, families, homes. So what are you complaining about? This is you, the government of the people, by the people and for the people. So, I don't let them off the hook by attacking the people they put out front. But clearly George Bush is an electrifyingly incurious man. I'm guessing the notion of retirement doesn't appeal to you. No, no. I get a great deal of joy out of this. An artist is never really satisfied; you just keep scratching underneath the surface trying for more. When is the next HBO special, and what's it called? The next one is March 1, called "It's Bad for Ya."

June 23, 1908

Voices--James Ellroy

 

Aug. 30, 1995 By Amy Wallace Times Staff Writer n his 1987 crime novel, "The Black Dahlia," James Ellroy had the audacity--what he would call the "righteous authorial authority"--to cook up a solution to Los Angeles' most famous unsolved homicide. Leading his readers on a tour of the City of Angels' seediest streets, Ellroy wrote of a young homicide dick who became obsessed with the Dahlia--a would-be actress named Elizabeth Short who in 1947 was found slain and severed in two. In fiction, Ellroy did what no real detective has ever done: He made the Dahlia's killer pay. Now, Ellroy has set out to solve another decades-old Los Angeles-area killing. Fresh from a promotional tour for his acclaimed 11th novel, "American Tabloid" (Knopf, 1995), he has begun researching a book about the mysterious 1958 murder of Geneva Hilliker Ellroy, his own mother. Crime literature may never be the same. After all, this is the murder that Ellroy says made him the man he is today. The 47-year-old author traces his fascination with all things criminal back to the day his mother was found, strangled and half-nude, near Arroyo High School in El Monte. And he admits that over the years he has used her death to stir up interest in his novels. "I've exploited it," he says flatly, recalling how a previous publisher, eager to promote "The Black Dahlia," encouraged him to tell interviewers about his past. "He said, 'If you're willing to talk about this on the media circuit, we can put you out there and sell some books.' And he was right. I told the story 9 million times." self-described "master self-promoter with a tight grip on a pop-psych show-and-tell," Ellroy used to tell reporters that his mother--a divorced alcoholic who could sometimes be harsh to her son--got "whacked." More than once, he referred to her slaying, which occurred when he was 10 years old, as "the Geneva snuff." But today his tone is fervent, not flip. Thirty-seven years since he lost her, he is trying to find his mother again, to recognize the woman who gave him voice. "To one degree or another I've exploited her or ignored her. I've understood that for a long time. But now, I know the true force that this woman and her death has had on me," he says, explaining that by investigating her murder, he hopes also to understand more about her life. "This is an attempt to go back, to portray the woman with love and, if possible, bring her killer to justice." o it is that Ellroy, whose raw, tautly written but very dark books have won him both a faithful following and a coterie of critics, has arrived in an uncharacteristically soft-spoken place. This is a man who made a career out of chronicling the lives of burned-out cops, has-been or never-was stool pigeons, two-bit snitches and three-time losers. This is a man who can--and does--use the words milieu and Zeitgeist in a single sentence, a 6-foot-3-inch espresso addict who manages to appear brooding even when wearing loud Reyn Spooner Hawaiian shirts (his favorite apparel). This is no mama's boy. On the contrary, Ellroy says he hated his mother when she died. "On my 10th birthday in March, 1958, she said, 'Now you're a young man. You can decide if you want to live with your dad or live with me,' " he recalls. When he chose his father, "she whacked me in the face. I had made up my mind that was the last time she was going to do that and, of course, it was. . . . The next thing I know, she's dead." Ellroy's decision to reopen the investigation of his mother's slaying came after a newspaper reporter-friend discovered Geneva Ellroy's murder file while researching a story about unsolved San Gabriel Valley homicides. Ellroy had never thought to track down the file himself, but once he learned it was there, he couldn't get it out of his head. If nothing else, he knew, it would make a great story: a grown man confronting a gruesome incident from his childhood, a hardened crime novelist coming face to face with the most personal of crimes. He arranged to write a piece for GQ magazine about reading the murder file--a collection of police reports, mug shots and coroner's data--for the first time. The article, called "My Mother's Killer," was a finalist for a National Magazine Award. But it didn't give Ellroy the peace he'd hoped for. "I thought the pictures would wound me," he wrote in GQ. "I thought they would grant my old nightmare form. I thought I could touch the literal horror and somehow commute my life sentence. I was mistaken. The woman refused to grant me a reprieve." o, he resolved to go further, to expand the article into a book, to be titled "My Dark Places." Embarking on a real homicide investigation was a daunting task, even for someone who'd written about so many fictional ones. Ellroy hired a detective he'd met when he first viewed the murder file, Sgt. Bill Stoner, who was retiring after 32 years with the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department and was looking for a new challenge. Stoner, a reserved man with a neat mustache and a modest manner, was the first to tell Ellroy that they were unlikely to solve the case. The killer's trail was ice cold. So many years had elapsed that many of the key players--and perhaps the killer himself--were dead. Others would be hard-pressed to remember details of that hot June night in 1958 when Geneva Ellroy lost her life. But this unusual partnership--Ellroy in his white Jack Purcell sneakers, Stoner in his wine-colored loafers--had one thing in its favor. Stoner knew from experience that on rare occasions the passing of years can unlock secrets: previously reluctant witnesses want to unburden their consciences before they die. Today, Ellroy and Stoner have a particular person in mind who they hope will come forward, a woman they call simply the Blonde. It is only a matter of reaching her, they believe, to let her know they need her help. eneva Ellroy dressed pretty on the night she died. Her sleeveless blue and black dress was set off nicely by a blue-lined, full-length coat. She wore faux pearls--a simple necklace complemented by a huge ring on her left hand. It was a Saturday, her son was staying with his father, and she was going out. She arrived at the Desert Inn, a bar on East Valley Boulevard in El Monte, about 8 o'clock. Several people remember that she was joined by a woman and a man. The man was 40ish, white, swarthy and about six feet tall. The woman was younger and described as "hard-faced." She wore a brown summer dress and tied her blond hair back in a ponytail. The Swarthy Man and Geneva Ellroy left the Desert Inn about 10 p.m. Twenty minutes later they pulled a dark green Oldsmobile into a nearby drive-in, Stan's, and ordered a snack. The carhop remembers that they talked vivaciously and seemed to have been drinking. By 11 p.m., they were gone, but three hours later, they drove in again. Geneva Ellroy ordered chili. She was chatting gaily, but her clothes looked disheveled, and the carhop speculated she and her companion had been necking. The Swarthy Man, meanwhile, looked sullen. He ordered coffee and acted bored with the woman at his side. The couple left at 2:45 a.m. Eight hours later, Geneva Ellroy was found dead. One of her stockings was tied around her neck. Her broken necklace lay under her body, and 47 pearls were found scattered nearby. hen interviewed by police, patrons of the Desert Inn said that the Blonde and the Swarthy Man were not regulars. One hard-drinking customer said the Swarthy Man had given his name, but he couldn't remember it. An artist made a sketch of the Swarthy Man, which was circulated to newspapers and law enforcement around Los Angeles County. But police came up empty, lacking leads and suspects. Today, the Desert Inn is a Mexican restaurant called Valenzuela's. Stan's Drive-In was demolished long ago. But the mystery remains, and Ellroy and Stoner say the Blonde is their best hope for solving it. They talk about her frequently, speculating about why she has remained silent. "The Blonde is the key," Stoner tells Ellroy. "Was she a girlfriend of your mother's? Of the suspect's? Maybe she's married to the suspect." Ellroy picks up where Stoner leaves off. Maybe the Blonde was married to someone else who was criminally connected to the Swarthy Man. Maybe she feared reprisals. But surely, he says, surely she has told someone what she knows. "She's a barfly. A juicer," says Ellroy. "These people shoot their mouths off." Stoner concurs. "She's told somebody--maybe a bar acquaintance--about her girlfriend who was murdered, about how she was lucky it wasn't her. All we have to do is hit the right person." If and when they do, they've made it easy for that person to get in touch. Ellroy has a toll-free tip line, which he repeats to anyone who will listen: (800) XXX-XXX--[Number deleted because this is a 1995 story--lrh]. toner and Ellroy have had some disappointments. One of the original investigating officers is dead and the other can't remember much. They've found the carhop, whose memory is flawless, but she admitted she never was quite sure about the type of car the Swarthy Man drove. They've talked to Geneva Ellroy's landlady. She cried when she saw James, and provided him with some details about his mother he didn't remember. She used to like to make popcorn, for example, and eat it with a spoon. But the landlady was no help when it came to identifying the Swarthy Man and the Blonde. Ellroy and Stoner are working under a publisher's deadline: The book must be written by mid-1996. If they don't get their man by then, Ellroy will write about the search, about his fierce friendship with Stoner, about his mother's life and his own. In some ways, he muses, such an outcome would be fittingly ironic. "It [would be] Geneva Hilliker Ellroy's last laugh," he says, slipping briefly into her voice as he imagines what she'd say. "Jimmy, you exploited me and now . . . you've gotten three weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. You would have gotten 83 [weeks] if you'd found the killer before the hardcover was published!" But Ellroy says his search will continue until the killer is caught. And if that day comes after deadline? "Then [my publisher] is going to say, 'Come here,' " Ellroy says, beckoning with a long finger. " 'Come here and write an addendum for the paperback edition.' "

Geneva Ellroy, RIP

View Larger Map Geneva Ellroy crime scene, Arroyo High School, El Monte, Calif., via Google maps street view.
	o much has already been written about the June 1958 murder of Geneva Hilliker Ellroy; there's very little I can add to what my friend James Ellroy, above, hasn't already said in interviews, first-person articles or in his 1996 book, "My Dark Places." Most of the locations still exist. The businesses have changed along Santa Anita Avenue, but Arroyo High School is much the same. The last time I checked, there was still a restaurant at 11721 Valley Blvd., where her car was found after the killing.    Regular Daily Mirror readers will recall a series of strangulations in 1957, but I haven't come across any in 1958 until now. The only prominent serial killer at large at the moment is Harvey Glatman, who has killed Judith Dull and Shirley Ann Bridgeford and will claim his next victim in July. Photo from findagrave.com Geneva Hilliker Ellroy is buried in Inglewood Park Cemetery. Her grave is next to the chain-link fence along Avenue of the Champions. When you are at her grave you will be near an intersection with a stoplight almost directly across the street from a clinic. (Findagrave.com has the exact number if you want to save yourself the time of looking for it). Here's a noir twist for you: Most of the sections of Inglewood Park Cemetery are named for flowers. Geneva Ellroy is buried in the section west of the one named "Dahlia." Really. Email me