LA history--Little Tokyo
September 2, 2008 | 4:17
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Above, as published in The Times, Sept. 2, 1938, and below, via Google maps' street view. |
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Above, as published in The Times, Sept. 2, 1938, and below, via Google maps' street view. |
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Also in The Times Opinion pages: Theodore White writes, "What the four-day festival of hate taught was that too much current American thinking on civil rights, as they apply to our great cities, is dogma--and dogma so far out of touch with reality as to touch on absurdity." And Robert Richardson's first-person piece: "My legs are knocked out from under me, and my face is going straight to the pavement. I start to protest, but a knee goes into my back and my mouth opens in a cry of pain. "Suddenly, my hands are behind my back -- handcuffed." |
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Los Angeles Times file photo |
| OK, who are they? Of course, it's Mickey Rooney on the left. His boxing partner is Art Aragon, as guessed by Kip Brown (who thought it might have been Mickey Knox), Howard Decker, Michael Ryerson and Lee Rivas. Information on the back of the photo says this is a scene from "Military Policemen" (also known as "Off Limits"). The date is difficult to read, but appears to be Jan. 29, 1953. Nice guessing, folks! |
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| On Aug. 20, 1938, The Times noted the passing of Thomas K. Heath, who was once one of vaudeville's biggest stars. A little research showed that he and his partner Jim McIntyre performed in blackface for many years after they teamed up in 1874. I'd never heard of them, so I wondered who they were. |
![]() Dec. 24, 1895. |
| Then in researching Heath and McIntyre, I ran across another team, perhaps not as well known: Bert Williams and George Walker. But instead of two white comedians pretending to be black, Williams and Walker were African American. Better yet, according to The Times, they were from Los Angeles. These fellows sounded fairly interesting and worth investigating. Once extremely popular, blackface minstrel shows vanished from the American stage decades ago, and only survive in a few jarring clips from old movies, like one of the sketches in "Yankee Doodle Dandy." So here's a brief history of minstrel shows from New York Sun, republished in The Times: |
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![]() Los Angeles Times file photo Above, McIntyre and Heath in a publicity photo without makeup. |
![]() Los Angeles Times file photo And here are Heath, left and McIntyre in character. Personally, I find this photo grotesque and shocking, but this kind of entertainment was a sensation in its day. |
![]() Los Angeles Times file photo Unfortunately, I wasn't able to locate any photos of Williams and Walker as a team, but here's Bert Williams as a solo performer after Walker's death in 1911. And would I like to see him perform? Absolutely. |
| Both teams appeared many times in Los Angeles, almost always at the Orpheum (which would have been second Orpheum on South Spring Street). Curiously enough, in May 1898, in some quirk of booking, they appeared on the same bill: McIntyre and Heath, "the great Blackface Comedians," and Williams and Walker, "the real Colored Comedians." |
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"The Ham Tree," Jan. 6, 1914. |
| McIntyre and Heath's most famous routine was "The Ham Tree," a sketch that was so well known The Times never described it. The general premise is the misadventures of two men after one talks the other into quitting his job at a livery stable so they can go on the road in a minstrel show. |
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The Times interviewed the Williams and Walker again in 1898. It's wonderful to stumble across these first-person accounts. How about this quote from Feb. 14, 1898, the year before Scott Joplin published "The Maple Leaf Rag": "Ragtime has been overdone and the public is getting tired of it." Or the observation that many tunes by African Americans were written to a preconceived idea, presumably that of white publishers.
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Egbert Austin "Bert" Williams died March 5, 1922, at the age of 48, and his obituary appeared on the front page of The Times. His father was a Danish envoy in Nassau, the Bahamas, and his mother was "part Spanish and part African," The Times said. He graduated from high school in San Pedro. Williams obituary, part 1 Williams obituary, part 2 ![]() In November 1938, Flournoy E. Miller, another famous African American performer who was one of the writers of "Shuffle Along," looked back at the days of Williams and Walker and said there was a need for "clean old real Negro shows." |
May 17, 1925: A review of McIntyre and Heath at Orpheum on their farewell tour. They also staged a final performance in Philadelphia in 1934. McIntyre died Aug. 18, 1937, at the age of 89. Heath died exactly one year later at the age of 85 without ever being told that his partner was dead. Postscript: These performers may seem like nothing more than forgotten relics of an ancient past. But they shared the stage with actors who are influential even now. McIntyre and Heath, for example, signed the autograph book of young vaudeville performer Buster Keaton and wished him well in his career. McIntyre and Heath also appeared at the Orpheum in January 1902 with a young "eccentric juggler" named W.C. Fields. (Fields had previously performed in Los Angeles in 1900).
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By Keith ThursbyTimes staff writer Quiz time: Who was the Dodgers' most valuable player of 1958? You could make a case for several players. Gil Hodges and Charlie Neal tied for the team lead in home runs with 22. Duke Snider, despite injuries and struggles adjusting to the dimensions of the Coliseum, hit .312 with 15 home runs. Johnny Podres led the Dodgers with 13 victories, following closely by Don Drysdale (12) and Sandy Koufax (11). The winner, according to The Times' Frank Finch, was infielder Jim Gilliam. "Without Gilliam and with just another journeyman infielder occupying Junior's place on the roster, the Dodgers proably would be dead last or no better than seventh right now," Finch wrote. He added that his Mirror colleague, "Sir Charles Park," also voted for Gilliam. Oh course, you can tell how badly a team is doing if the writers are discussing most valuable players at the start of September. But Gilliam certainly was a first-rate player. He was the National League's rookie of the year in 1953. Finch credited Gilliam's durability and versatility on a team overwhelmed by injuries. "While operating with equal efficiency in the outfield, third base or second base, he has played in more games than any oher Dodger," Finch wrote. Gilliam stayed with the Dodgers after retiring in 1965. In September of 1978, the first-base coach collapsed at his home and suffered a brain hemorrhage. He was only 49 when he died in October. "He was a father to some of us, a brother to others and a friend to us all," Davey Lopes said at Gilliam's funeral. keith.thursby@latimes.com |
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Lillian loved Ed. She loved him even though he beat her. She loved him
even though he was on probation for beating her. And she loved him even
when he lay dying on the kitchen floor after she stabbed him in the
heart. "I didn't want him to hurt me anymore," she said. On the night of the killing, Lillian and Ed had hired a babysitter for their two children and gone to a party in Sierra Madre. By the time they left, both had been drinking heavily. On their way back to their home at 3843 Blanche St., Pasadena, Ed said he was going to drop her off and do some more drinking. "I said, 'Oh, no you don't. You're not leaving me this time,' " she told detectives. So Ed, who was 6 feet tall, slapped Lillian, who was 4 feet 11. "When we got home, he hit me again and again," Lillian said. "Then he started to leave.... I loved him so much." He got her into the kitchen and backed her against the sink. "I reached into a drawer and pulled out a knife. I don't know why I did, except that I didn't want him to hurt me anymore ... and I didn't want him to leave," she said. "But I didn't mean to hurt him." Lillian took the 5-inch steak knife and stabbed Ed in the heart. Then she pulled it out and threw on the kitchen floor. "I embraced Ed. I asked him to speak to me," she said. "I didn't want him to die. I begged him to live." "I didn't know what to do," Lillian continued. "I called the telephone operator and told her to get the police to our address. I woke up the kids and told them I hurt him. But I wouldn't let them see him." On Jan. 28, 1959, Lillian Gloria Kella, 33, was convicted of second-degree murder in the killing of her husband. She faced a sentence of five years to life in prison, but The Times never followed up on the story. View Larger Map The Blanche Street neighborhood via Google maps' street view. |
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