Larry Harnisch reflects on Los Angeles history
Above, golf equipment at B.H. Dyas Co., Jan. 29, 1929.
"Oh! What a Lovely War," 1969
Jack Pardee returned an interception 29 yards for a score that gave the Rams a 7-3 halftime lead. Roman Gabriel's touchdown pass to Jack Snow in the fourth quarter broke a 10-10 tie.
Gabriel fared a little better than Atlanta quarterback Bob Berry, who took a forearm in the head from Deacon Jones. Berry's helmet came off but made it back into the game eventually.
"I never thought Berry would come back," Jones told The Times' Bob Oates "If his helmet doesn't come off his head does. It was beautiful."
The team's 1959 schedule almost eliminated day baseball at the Coliseum. The Times' Frank Finch said the team would have a record number of night games with "possibly only the Sabbath and holiday tilts falling in the matinee category."
Hard to blame the Dodgers. Only six games in 1958 failed to draw at least 10,000 fans to the Coliseum--and all those games were on weekdays. The Coliseum was a tough enough place for a baseball fan to watch a game, but sitting there with so many empty seats must have made for one lonely stadium.
Another change in 1959 would be reducing doubleheaders from six to only one. Season tickets would remain the same, however. According to The Times, box seats were $2.50 a game and reserved seats $1.80.
|Sheet music of a song performed by Bert Williams and George Walker turned up on EBay. Bidding starts at $24.99, which seems a bit steep to me, but I don't follow prices on old sheet music. Then again, maybe not. Of course, in the early 1960s, music shops couldn't dump their old sheet music fast enough.|
Photograph by Carlos Chavez / Los Angeles Times
'MAMA AFRICA': Makeba's evocative 2005 performance in Los Angeles connected powerfully with audience members.
A spiritual experience
South African singer Miriam Makeba's last L.A. appearance (or is it?) is flowing with style and substance.
Monday October 03, 2005
By Don Heckman, Special to The Times
Miriam Makeba has been called "Mama Africa" and the "Empress of African Song." She sang for President John F. Kennedy's birthday, testified before the United Nations about apartheid, married Black Panther Stokely Carmichael and spent decades in exile from her South African homeland.
No wonder her performances resonate with emotions reaching well beyond the music. And no wonder her fans reacted with a mixture of surprise, regret and admiration when Makeba announced, during a show last New Year's Eve in Zambia, that she would conclude the touring aspect of her career over the next year with a 14-month sequence of programs in 52 countries.
"I am 73 now," she said. "[Touring] is taxing on me. But as long as I'll have my voice," she added, "I'll keep on recording."
On Saturday night, Makeba made what will presumably be her final Los Angeles appearance at the West Los Angeles Church in a Musics of the World Celebration concert as part of the World Forum on Music. And the mood in the large crowd was predictably affecting.
"She's an institution," one listener said during the intermission before Makeba's arrival onstage. "It's hard to imagine not being able to see her again."
Others displayed their feelings with bursts of applause every time Makeba's name was mentioned amid a line of celebratory introductions from representatives of the World Forum and various government officials, including Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Los Angeles).
"I can't believe how lucky we are," said a visitor from Santa Cruz who, with her companion, had become aware of the concert Saturday afternoon. "To get to hear her for the first time, and on this tour -- incredible."
Makeba herself made no direct reference to her semiretirement. But her performance was invested with a rich mixture of elements including what appeared to be a need to express her still-powerful voice as well as poignant references to her South African roots.
Although Makeba seemed, at times, to suggest a physical weariness, she just as often moved with hip-swinging alacrity, especially during the spirited rendering of one of her best-known hits, "Pata Pata." If this was indeed her last Southland appearance, she offered it with style and substance, with the marvelously rich musicality that has been the foundation for her multilayered career.
And for those with hopeful visions of Makeba simply beginning the first in a series of Sarah Bernhardt-like farewell tours, there were the comments she made earlier in the week at a concert in Johannesburg in which, referring to her contemplated retirement, she said, "Do not pay too much attention to that."
The opening portion of the program featured two groups whose presence testified to the expanded interest in world music that Makeba was so instrumental in initiating.
The ensemble Africali included five musicians and three dancers-singers from various parts of Tanzania. Their diverse material, sung in a range of Tanzanian dialects, sizzled with dynamic rhythms, visually enhanced by spirited dancing and an emotional communicability that transcended boundaries and genres.
The Berlin Youth Jazz Orchestra took an entirely different path via a set that owed much to the orchestration style of Gil Evans.
The players, all 25 or younger, soloed and drove the ensemble passages with an enthusiasm and technical proficiency underscoring the status of jazz as a global musical language.
"Bell, Book and Candle" opens and Gene Kelly says he's taking a hit show to Broadway, "Flower Drum Song."
That's one explanation for the Rams drawing only 95,082 to watch their 56-7 rout of the San Francisco 49ers. More than 100,000 fans had attended the previous week's game at the Coliseum, a victory over the Bears. Another 10,000 were turned away at the door.
The Times' Cal Whorton reported that a Rams official thought some people had been scared away by the previous week's crowd. They missed another explosive display by the Rams, led by the running game.
Joe Marconi rushed for 121 yards, 109 of them in the first half, as the Rams built a 35-7 lead.
-- Keith Thursby
Christine Collins' residences, as shown on Google Earth.
Dick Morris, a regular Daily Mirror reader, is a skilled researcher and passed along some material on Christine I. Collins. It fills in a few details of her life but still leaves many other questions. Except for her two earliest known addresses, which were in Venice, Christine lived within a fairly restricted part of Lincoln Heights, east of downtown Los Angeles.
Dick found her in the 1920 census, living with her husband, Conrad J., a streetcar motorman, and 1-year-old Walter at 1110 2nd Ave., Venice.
Locating this address is problematic with Google maps, which defaults to Santa Monica. And my oldest map, a 1946 Thomas Bros. Guide, is no help. Second Avenue was close to the streetcar tracks, so that location makes sense if Conrad was a motorman.
Update: This appears to be the general vicinity of the Collins home.
Christine was born about 1891 in California, according to census records, and married when she was about 25. Christine was a first-generation American; her father was born in Ireland and her mother was born in England.
Voter registration for 1920 shows Christine and Conrad living at 112 Thornton Place, Venice.
In an updated e-mail, Dick points out a Sept. 24, 1928, United Press story in the San Mateo Times saying that Christine gave a 10th birthday party for her missing son, Walter, on Sept. 23. We can infer that he was born Sept. 23, 1918.
Dick didn't find any birth record, but I'm not surprised. In searching The Times for C.J. Collins, I found an early listing of someone by that name visiting from Salt Lake City. (In the late 19th and early 20th century, newspapers published the names of people who were visiting Los Angeles and gave the names of the hotels where they were staying.) Of course, it's unclear if this is the right C.J. Collins.
According to census records, Christine's husband, Conrad, was born in Nebraska about 1890 and his parents were born in Iowa. He appears only in the 1920 census, Dick says.
He also says he didn't find a death record on Walter, but I somewhat expected that. Because the victims' remains weren't found, they weren't formally declared dead until sometime later.
In 1928, the time period of "Changeling," Christine was living at 219 N. Ave. 23, and working as a supervisor at the phone company.
The 1930 census lists her as a roomer in the home of James C. Barton, 2614 N. Griffin Ave., still working for the phone company. (The 1929 city directory lists a James C. Barton as a chauffeur living at 1802 E. Vernon, but it's unclear if this is the same man.)
Update: Dick clarifies this is James C. Borton, who was a salesman at a furniture store. The Times published a paid obituary on a man named James C. Borton on May 1, 1938, but he's not necessarily the same person.
In 1934, she was living at 2121 Workman St., a multi-family home built in 1907.
In 1936, she was living at 152 N. Ave. 24 and listed as a housewife.
In 1938, she was living at 551 S. Lorena.
From 1942 to 1944, she was living at 2451 Daly St.
In 1946, she was living at 2603 Griffin Ave. Clarifies earlier error.
From 1948 to 1950, she was living at 2919 N. Broadway, Apt. D.
From 1952 to 1954, she was living at 2330 Johnston St., Apt. D
There is nothing to be found of her after 1954, Dick writes.
And thanks from the Daily Mirror!
Mark Boster / Los Angeles Times
Dr. Joel Kushner, left, and Rabbi Richard N. Levy unroll the Yanov Torah during a ceremony at the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion near USC. The Torah survived the Holocaust by being cut into pieces, hidden during the war and reassembled afterward.
Jews celebrate survival of Holocaust Torah
Nearing the somber 70th anniversary of Kristallnacht, Los Angeles Jews celebrate the story of a Torah that was pieced together from scattered texts smuggled into a Nazi labor camp.
By Duke Helfand
November 7, 2008
During World War II, Jewish inmates of the Yanov labor camp in occupied Poland defied their Nazi guards, secretly conducting religious services inside their darkened barracks.
To observe their ritual, the Jews had cut religious scrolls into sections, bound the parchment pieces around their bodies and walked them through Yanov's front gate. They hid the fragments wherever they could: beneath the floorboards of their barracks, inside hollow bedposts, even in a camp cemetery.
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Jewish artifacts believed to be from Kristallnacht
An Israeli writer believes the objects in an old dump near Berlin are related to the infamous 1938 pogrom considered by many to be the start of the Holocaust.
By Henry Chu
November 9, 2008
Reporting from Klandorf, Germany
Sometimes serendipity makes history. In this case, it may have uncovered history.
This year, Israeli writer Yaron Svoray came to Germany to research the underground operation that whisked Nazi officials to South America to escape justice after World War II. Svoray was chatting with a local about his project when the man mentioned that a nearby plot of land had served as a dump during the Third Reich.
The man said items looted during the pogrom known as Kristallnacht, or "Night of Broken Glass," were disposed of there. Thousands of Jewish homes, shops and synagogues were ransacked and burned that night 70 years ago today in an orgy of hatred considered by many to be the start of the Holocaust.
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||Here's another period piece on EBay, this one from I. Magnin. Bidding starts at $24.99. I suppose it would take the right kind of person to wear something like this. Just a hunch.
||"Heavy skirts and long trains worn on the streets are especially unhealthful. Heavy skirts strain the delicate internal organs and long trains gather up all kinds of impurities and disease germs and distribute them on the hosiery and underclothes, to be carried to the skin and then through the pores into the blood."
--A. Victor Segno,
"How to Live 100 Years,"
Los Angeles, 1903