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Larry Harnisch reflects on Los Angeles history

Category: November 16, 2008 - November 22, 2008

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Found on EBay -- Williams and Walker


Thanksgiving, 1928

Above, Chef Wyman's recipes for Thanksgiving, 1928. And thanks to Mary McCoy of This Book Is for You and On Bunker Hill for the tip.

Thanksgiving Family Secrets

What's Bread in the Coffee Can


1 cup milk
1 tablespoon white vinegar or lemon juice
1/2 cup rye flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
1/2 cup raisins
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Ground cloves
1/3 cup molasses
In bowl mix milk with white vinegar. Let stand at room temperature 10 to 15 minutes.

Mix rye flour, cornmeal, whole-wheat flour, raisins, baking soda, salt, ginger and dash cloves in large bowl. Stir in molasses and milk. Blend well.

Butter clean 12-ounce coffee can. Pour in batter. Cover mouth of can with foil and place in deep pot. Add boiling water halfway up can. Cover pot and steam over moderate heat, replacing water if necessary, until straw inserted to middle of bread comes out clean, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Remove from heat and let stand on rack 10 minutes, then unmold. While still hot, slice by drawing string around bread, crossing, and pulling ends. Can be reheated in 300-degree oven. Makes 10 servings.

Each serving contains about: 126 calories; 136 mg sodium; 2 mg cholesterol; 1 grams fat; 28 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 0.33 gram fiber.

Thursday November 17, 1994


Most of my family was living in California by the 1880s, and their various culinary heritages--New England, Southern and Midwestern--had begun to take on a uniform Californian quality by the time I was on the scene. But not my Perry grandfather, the only one of my grandparents not born out here. He came from a rather New England-y part of upstate New York, where Perrys westering in from Massachusetts had been thick on the ground since the early 18th Century, and a mere 60 years of living in California hadn't altered his tastes.

The rest of the Thanksgiving meal was a menu a lot of people would recognize: turkey with sage stuffing, cranberry preserves, mashed potatoes, candied yams (possibly due to my Southern grandmother's influence), succotash, green and Jell-O salads, corn bread and hot rolls. But for Granddad's sake, we always had brown bread.

Insofar as people outside New England know of brown bread, they think of it as something to make canapes and cream cheese sandwiches with, and possibly to eat with baked beans. To Granddad, and consequently to us, it was a bread--a dark, sweet, dessert-like bread you ate at Thanksgiving and Christmas.


Brown bread is more like an English steamed pudding than an oven bread. The traditional shape is cylindrical, because for many decades people have usually steamed it in an empty coffee can, rather than a pudding mold.

One theory is that New Englanders invented brown bread because they couldn't make an English risen loaf with cornmeal, and wheat often didn't do as well in the local climate as rye. Meanwhile, New Englanders always had a lot of molasses on hand due to their trade contacts with the Caribbean, so why not make pudding?

For Thanksgiving Grandmother often made her own starchy brown pudding from graham flour, which was like a cross between brown bread and fruitcake. When both were served at the same meal, we sometimes felt we'd reached the limit of how much dense, spongy, sweet brown stuff a person could eat. But it wouldn't have been Thanksgiving without brown bread.

Voices -- Tom Daschle, 2001

Photograph, Getty Images

President-elect Barack Obama has asked former Sen. Tom Daschle
to serve as secretary of Health and Human Services, and the
South Dakota Democrat has accepted the offer.

Daschle Finds Himself in Another Tight Spot

Profile: No stranger to slim victories, his new role will tax his skills as a coalition builder. Even rivals had kind words.

Friday May 25, 2001


WASHINGTON -- Sen. Tom Daschle, soon to become the nation's highest-ranking Democrat as leader of a razor-thin Senate majority, should be expert by now at squeezing the most power from the barest of margins.

The South Dakotan won his first race for Congress in 1978 in a manner that President Bush might appreciate--by a mere 110 votes after a hand recount and a yearlong legal dispute that reached the state Supreme Court.

He won a contest for Senate minority leader in 1994 on a 24-23 vote of his Democratic peers--and one of his backers bolted soon afterward to the Republicans.

Now Daschle will become Senate majority leader when Sen. James M. Jeffords of Vermont quits the Republican column in coming days to become an independent, giving Democrats a breathtakingly precarious edge: 50-49-1.

A New Role for Capitol Insider

Having pulled off a stunning coup with the Jeffords defection, Daschle will move into a new role that will tax his considerable skills as a Capitol insider: building legislative coalitions with Republicans loyal to Bush.

The man he edged out in 1994 for the party leadership said Daschle can do it.

"This will be a seamless move for him," said Sen. Christopher J. Dodd (D-Conn.). "He's respected and thought of very kindly by Republicans."

Dodd predicted Daschle would be in the mold of former Sen. Howard H. Baker Jr. (R-Tenn.), a well-regarded majority leader during the 1980s. For Baker, Dodd said, "the party came second and the Senate came first."

Most Republicans, naturally, were not rushing to praise Daschle on an extraordinary day when their majority had been pulled out from under them. But some had kind words for him.

Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), a maverick, said he has "a close personal relationship" with Daschle and praised his "fairness." Sen. Phil Gramm (R-Texas) called him "able." And Sen. Fred Thompson (R-Tenn.) said: "I think Tom has real potential in being a good majority leader. . . . Essentially, he's a fair-minded man."

Daschle's ascension also is sure to intensify speculation about his prospects as a presidential candidate. He has not scotched such talk, while insisting his focus is on building his base in the Senate.

Daschle, 53, a native of Aberdeen, S.D., is a liberal populist who is married to a Washington lobbyist. He served four terms in the House after his close 1978 election, then won his Senate seat in 1986.

He became a protege of former Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell (D-Maine). When Mitchell announced his retirement in 1994, Daschle vaulted from being a relatively little-known Senate insider to becoming the chamber's top link to the Clinton administration.

This January, Daschle served for 17 days as majority leader when the new 50-50 Senate convened before George W. Bush became president and his vice president, Dick Cheney, became the tie-breaking vote. Now Daschle will have the majority post for more than a brief turn--assuming that none of the 50 Democratic-held seats change hands soon.

Position Powerful, but Misunderstood

The position Daschle is about to attain is powerful but often misunderstood.

Unlike the speaker of the House, who has vast authority to dictate what legislation may reach the floor and when, the Senate majority leader is forced by the chamber's rules and customs to consult frequently with the opposing party.

What's more, major legislation in the Senate usually requires a 60-vote super-majority to cut off debate--meaning neither the Democrats nor the Republicans in this Congress can roll past the other party without gaining a significant amount of crossover support.

But the majority leader does have one privilege that elevates him above the other 99 senators: The right to speak first in a given session.

That right enabled Sen. Trent Lott (R-Miss.), the current majority leader, to control the timing of debate on Bush's tax cut and other priority legislation for the new administration. Now Daschle will be able to steer debate toward Democratic goals.

Daschle, in a telephone interview Thursday, said he hoped to encourage Senate proceedings that would give Democrats and Republicans the chance to offer the full range of amendments they want--something akin to the freewheeling debate on campaign finance reform that drew national attention two months ago.

He also said the close margins of victory in his career's key contests have honed his political skills.

"I really believe it's made me a better politician and made me a better leader," Daschle said. "What it has done is force me to listen and be sensitive to people who may not hold my view initially--and to be inclusive and to recognize that I've got to build my base, build out from whatever core base I have. That has been therapeutic for me."

Building his base by one seat in the 50-50 Senate--the Jeffords defection from the GOP--was an amazing stroke. A Senate source familiar with the move credited Daschle for being one of the senior Democrats who wooed Jeffords but also for giving the wavering Republican enough breathing room to make his own decision.

Daschle "simply reached out without asking the question," the source said. "He never pushed it, never said, 'Are you going to do this?' or 'Is it imminent?' or 'Can you do it now?' They [Daschle and his allies] were patient."

And Jeffords came around.

Daschle also has made sure to pay attention to the spectrum of views on the Democratic side. Sen. Zell Miller (D-Ga.) has voted more often than not against Daschle and was an early supporter of the Bush tax plan. But Miller remains in the party's fold despite the urgent efforts of Republicans to convert him. So does Sen. Ben Nelson (D-Neb.), another frequent crossover vote.

And Sen. John B. Breaux (D-La.), a key centrist who has worked with Bush and Republicans, is a Daschle-appointed member of the party's leadership and attends weekly strategy meetings.

To be sure, Daschle as minority leader often struck a hard-edged tone toward the Bush administration. His rhetoric against the bill to cut taxes by $1.35 trillion over 11 years, which Congress seems about to approve, has been fierce. He denounced Bush's pick of John Ashcroft as attorney general. He has criticized Bush's environmental policies and this month called a Pentagon proposal to develop a military strategy for outer space "the single dumbest thing I've heard so far from this administration."

Dealings With Bush Have Been Strained

In his interview, Daschle acknowledged dealings with the new president this year have been strained. But he said: "I'm thinking that there may be more opportunity for us to have a better relationship."

Air Force Academy gets youngest cadet, November 19, 1958

Iven Kincheloe III, the 1-year-old son of a distinguished X-15 pilot who died in July 1958 in the crash of a jet fighter at Edwards Air Force Base, is recommended for an appointment to the Air Force Academy in 1972.

An Air Force Base in Michigan was named for the elder Kincheloe in 1959. An award for test pilots is also named after him .

Whether his son pursued a flying career is unclear at this point. There's nothing further in The Times about him.

Found on EBay -- From Haggarty's

Here's a vintage number from Haggarty's, an upscale store in Los Angeles and Beverly Hills. Now listed on EBay with bidding starting at $24.

Voices -- Eric Holder, 1994

AP photo

Eric Holder, deputy attorney general under Janet Reno and likely attorney general under President-elect Barack Obama.

Prosecutor Has Made Jury Study a Specialty

Wednesday June 1, 1994


WASHINGTON -- Although he says he wants his day in court, Rep. Dan Rostenkowski (D-Ill.) may well meet his match if Eric H. Holder Jr., the prosecutor who obtained his indictment, chooses to try the case himself several months from now.

Holder, 43, the first black U.S. attorney in the nation's capital, is a tall, stately man with a polished courtroom manner and 18 years of experience in public corruption cases. He also has made a study of how to appeal to juries.

"He understands juries here and he certainly understands politicians," says a former colleague on the District of Columbia Superior Court, where Holder served five years before President Clinton appointed him as this city's top federal prosecutor last July.

A confident, easygoing man, Holder has said that he wants to develop a better relationship between his office of 300 attorneys, who are disproportionately white, and the predominantly black population of the district from which juries for his cases are drawn.

During his years as a judge, he said that he winced when he saw prosecutors lose trials that they should have won because they failed to relate to jurors.

Holder won the respect of his new colleagues when he took over the Rostenkowski investigation after his swearing-in last October. At the time, Jay B. Stephens, his Republican predecessor, criticized the Clinton White House for replacing him--at a time when it was replacing other U.S. attorneys across the country--in the midst of a highly sensitive investigation.

Rather than duck the criticism, Holder met it head-on. "The idea that a Democratic U.S. attorney is going to do something different than a Republican U.S. attorney is pretty close to ridiculous," he said. Instead of shortening or curtailing the inquiry, he decided to expand it by asking for the appointment of a new federal grand jury to replace the old jury, which faced expiration on Oct. 31, 1993.

Despite his short time as top prosecutor, Holder has had ample experience investigating public corruption. He spent a dozen years as a lawyer in the Justice Department's public integrity section, where he had a hand in the congressional bribery prosecution of former Rep. John W. Jenrette (D-S.C.).

"In some ways, I came in as prepared as I could have been because of my 12 years in public integrity," he told the Washington Post earlier this year. "I think potentially I'm a better U.S. attorney now than I was then, from being on the bench for five years and presiding over hundreds of criminal trials."

The son of a secretary and a real estate agent, Holder spent the summer of 1974 as a law clerk for the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund and the summer of 1975 as a law clerk in the Justice Department. He received his law degree in 1976 from Columbia University.

He has never been active in local politics, has never run for public office and has never played a role in anyone else's campaign, he told the Senate Judiciary Committee last year on the eve of his confirmation.

In describing the Rostenkowski charges to reporters, Holder said: "The vast majority of members of Congress are decent and honorable public officials who work incredibly hard and follow all the rules."

He quickly added, "But the criminal acts of a few feed the cynicism which increasingly haunts our political landscape."

Thanksgiving, 1908


Above, Thanksgiving, 1908

"Did the Pilgrim Fathers have salads at their Thanksgiving feasts? Nay, verily!"

How Did Thanksgiving Get to Be Turkey Day?

History: The All-American feast took its time becoming the holiday we all celebrate today.

Thursday November 15, 1990


1908_1120_harris Thanksgiving didn't come into the world fully formed. We don't even know when the first Thanksgiving Day took place, only that it was sometime between Sept. 21 and Nov. 9, 1621.

The Pilgrims certainly had no idea of founding an annual holiday, either. The first Thanksgiving was strictly a one-shot event. Similar ad hoc days of thanksgiving were proclaimed from time to time in Massachusetts over the next 50 years--usually by the churches, rather than by the civil authorities--but it was Connecticut that made Thanksgiving an annual event, starting around 1647.

The custom of having an annual Thanksgiving Day spread throughout New England in the 17th Century, but as yet it did not include any idea of commemorating the First Thanksgiving. If anything was commemorated, it was a later Thanksgiving when the crops had failed and the Massachusetts Bay Colony came very close to starvation.

In 1631, everybody was down to a daily ration of just five grains of corn when a day of fasting and prayer was proclaimed for Feb. 22. Miraculously, on that day a ship returned from England with food supplies, the colony was saved and the fast day turned into a feast. There is a very old New England custom, now mostly forgotten, of serving every diner five grains of corn before the meal in memory of the hardship and the deliverance of that year.

The holiday actually met a certain amount of resistance as it spread. Since the "pagan" holiday of Christmas was not celebrated in Massachusetts until the 19th Century, Thanksgiving was often thought of as essentially a Puritan substitute for Christmas.

Thanksgiving made no headway in the South, for instance, and probably it was only because the Dutch colonists had celebrated what they called Thankday that it was accepted in New York. When the British governor of Rhode Island proclaimed Thanksgiving in 1687--doubtless thinking he was doing his subjects a big favor--Puritan-hating religious dissidents celebrated the holiday so contemptuously he threw some of them in jail. Rhode Island didn't start celebrating Thanksgiving until 1776.

In 1776, of course, Thanksgiving was not a Puritan but a Patriot holiday. That year and every year throughout the Revolutionary War, the Continental Congress declared a national Thanksgiving to boost morale. George Washington also declared Thanksgivings as President in 1789 and 1795, as did the following Presidents occasionally until about 1815.

Still, the holiday did not catch on. That took two things: the migration of New Englanders throughout the Northern states, enthusiastically taking their holiday with them, and one very determined lady, Sarah Josepha Hale.

Sarah Hale was born in Maine in 1788 and had powerful childhood memories of Thanksgiving. In 1826 she published a novel containing a plea for a national Thanksgiving holiday. In 1846, as editor of the influential Godey's Lady's Book, a combination fashion and literary magazine, she began her campaign in earnest. From then on, she wrote at least two editorials a year on the subject and deluged public figures with correspondence about the need for Thanksgiving. She even included a chapter on the campaign for a national Thanksgiving in her book on etiquette.

The South dragged its heels for a while--when the governor of Virginia considered the idea in 1855, it was denounced as a relic of Puritan bigotry (probably a code word for Northern abolitionism), but the next year his successor just proclaimed the holiday without soliciting advice, and it was a success.

In 1859, Thanksgiving was celebrated in every state of the Union except Delaware, Missouri and recently admitted Oregon, and Sarah Hale expressed the hope that the holiday could unify the country against the gathering clouds of the Civil War.

That didn't happen, of course, but during that war she persuaded Abraham Lincoln to declare a national Thanksgiving Day, intended to be celebrated annually. He established the date we follow now, the fourth Thursday in November. After the Civil War, Thanksgiving was encouraged as a way of healing the wounds of the struggle.

The menu at the first Thanksgiving in 1621 was simply whatever the Pilgrims, with the help of the friendly Wampanoag Indians, could put together: venison, wildfowl (mostly turkeys and ducks), fish and cornmeal. Even today, the Thanksgiving table is supposed to groan with abundance, but in the 19th Century it really groaned. Sarah Hale--whose vision obviously influenced how we celebrate Thanksgiving--described one table loaded with chicken pies, goose, ducklings and three kinds of red meat as well as turkey, and another crowded with plum puddings, custards and pies of all sorts.

She was emphatic, however, that turkey held pride of place among the meats and pumpkin among the pies, and these are still the essential Thanksgiving dishes for most people. How did they get this status?

It's a little hard to say. As the largest bird available, turkey is certainly a prime candidate for a feast. In the course of the 19th Century, it became the absolute essence of what we call "Turkey Day," partly because it was a time of culinary nationalism when Americans boasted that they had the best ingredients in the world and therefore the best food; the native bird was obviously the right one for the native feast. In his 1878 book "A Tramp Abroad," Mark Twain describes getting homesick for American food in Europe and lists about 75 American specialties. Prominent among them are "Roast turkey, Thanksgiving style. Cranberries, celery."

Cranberry sauce was already strongly associated with turkey. As early as 1663 a visitor to New England had written, "The Indians and English use them (cranberries) much, boyling them with Sugar for Sauce with their meat, and it is a delicate Sauce." Nineteenth-century cookbooks throughout the country recommend serving turkey with cranberry sauce (sometimes cranberry jelly or, as in the original Fanny Farmer cookbook, cranberry punch), even in non- holiday contexts. It must have been the universal American taste, helped by the fact that cranberries keep well and could be shipped easily.

The necessity of pumpkin pie is a little harder to explain. In the 1650s, a visitor to New England noted that the colonists were eating apple, pear and quince pies like Englishmen, and had largely given up pumpkin pie. Maybe the homely pumpkin pie made a comeback in the late 18th Century when New England developed a taste for "plain fare," rather than fashionable European dishes. They kept their English plum puddings and apple and mince pies, but elevated the homespun pumpkin over them.

The New England menu was profoundly influential, but of course it had to be adapted to local circumstances. It was hard to start a meal with oysters in the Midwest. Certain new food habits might invade the menu, too. Olives and gelatin salads were gourmet novelties in late 19th-Century America. On the whole, though, our Thanksgiving dinners are simpler than our ancestors'. The effect has been to reinforce the special status of turkey with cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.

At the same time every group in the country has tended to add its own traditional feast day specialties to the menu, perhaps gumbo crowding out New England's creamed onions and chocolate cake the non-pumpkin parts of the dessert. The process continues today; in many households, turkey is accompanied by pasta or enchiladas.

It has often been pointed out that the First Thanksgiving was not the first thanksgiving in this country. There had been thanksgiving feasts in Virginia and the short-lived Popham Colony in Maine, years before the Pilgrims came.

We celebrate what is basically a New England Thanksgiving because New England made the festival its own. Its people had not come here as Englishmen and agents of the king, but to found a new society. In 1896 Edward Everett Hale, author of "The Man Without a Country," wrote of the first Thanksgiving: "The Festival itself was a reminder that they had turned over a new leaf. It was a thick leaf, too, and nothing could be read which had been written on the other side."

The 'Heidi Game' remembered, November 17, 1968


Big Scream TV

Today is the 30th Anniversary of 'The Heidi Game', a Landmark Moment in Television Sports History



1:05: Jets take a 32-29 lead on a 26-yard field goal by Jim Turner. Raiders' Charlie Smith returns kickoff to Raider 22-yard line.

:50: Raider quarterback Daryle Lamonica hits Charlie Smith on a 20-yard screen play. With a 15-yard facemask penalty tacked on, the ball moves to the Jet 43.

NBC Cuts Away to Heidi

:42: Lamonica to Smith on a 43- yard TD pass. Oakland leads, 36-32.

:33: On the ensuing kickoff the Raiders' Preston Ridlehuber picks up Earl Christy's fumble and runs in for a touchdown, making the final Oakland 43, New York Jets 32.

17 November 1998
Los Angeles Times

She was only 10 years old, a cute little first-time actress starring in a made-for-television adaptation of a classic children's story about an orphan living with her grandfather in the Swiss Alps.

But when Jennifer Edwards appeared on television screens 30 years ago tonight, she was unwittingly transformed into an object of scorn by many football fans.

As the title character in "Heidi," she was caught in the cross-fire between a bumbling TV network and infuriated fans and became forever linked with the most infamous gaffe in TV sports history.

"Like it was my fault," she says today, a 40-year-old mother of two (and grandmother of one) looking back with amusement and amazement at the riotous episode that remains to this day the quintessential TV sports blunder.

"Heidi" secured its place in history when NBC, the network that developed the Johanna Spyri-penned tale into a two-hour movie, put it on as scheduled at 7 p.m. in the East, inciting a thunderous backlash by cutting away without warning from the deciding final 50 seconds of a frantic 43-32 comeback victory by the Oakland Raiders over the New York Jets.

"The Heidi Game," as it came to be known, was a watershed moment in TV sports because it signaled to all the networks the new elevated status of sports on television. And the game's stature only continues to grow; last year, "the Heidi Game" was voted the most memorable regular-season contest in NFL history--never mind that it was an AFL game.

The venomous reaction to the network's switch to "Heidi" was so instantaneous that NBC's switchboard couldn't handle the calls. According to legend, its fuse was replaced 26 times.

As syndicated columnist Art Buchwald later wrote, "Men who wouldn't get out of their chairs during an earthquake rushed to the phones to scream obscenities."

NBC President Julian Goodman issued a public apology.

The New York Times ran a front-page story.

A network edict was born: Never preempt an exciting game by switching to regularly scheduled programming.

CBS News poked fun at the situation by jokingly "revealing" the last minute of "Heidi": She married the goat keeper and lived happily ever after.

Sports columnists across America weighed in, many vilifying the young orphan.

A less vocal minority, however, defended NBC's decision.

Living in England at the time, Edwards was unaware of the situation until she read all about it after a Hollywood publicist sent her the press clippings and letters.

"The uproar was so tremendous that I remember getting huge stuffed Manila envelopes of fan mail and hate mail at the same time," says Edwards, the daughter of producer-director Blake Edwards and stepdaughter of singer-actress Julie Andrews. "It was quite extraordinary. . . .

"But it was bizarre in the sense that you were either loved or hated. I remember clippings from newspapers calling me things like, 'The little brat in white stockings.' Like I had something to do with it. And I couldn't quite fathom that. I couldn't quite understand why I was being personally attacked."


Who was at fault?

Nobody ever took the blame.

Dick Cline, whose job as NBC's broadcast operations control supervisor was to make sure the network got the right show on the air at the right time, says he was only following orders that had been handed down to him days earlier in a meeting of NBC department heads:

Leave the game and go to "Heidi" at 7 p.m.

It seemed logical. Timex had bought the advertising time for "Heidi," and the movie was touted by the New York Times as the best program on TV that day.

"I didn't do anything wrong," says Cline, who still works NFL games as a director on CBS telecasts. "I'm not guilty. I did what I was supposed to do. Joe Namath & Co. didn't get the game over in time, so I went to 'Heidi.' "

Unbeknown to Cline, Goodman, NBC's president, had given the order a few minutes before 7 to stay with the game, but the message never got through to Cline in New York.

That's because all phone lines within a six-block radius of NBC headquarters had gone dead when a telephone exchange had gone out. It was later theorized that the circuits were overloaded by scores of fans calling the network to demand that the game stay on past the top of the hour, and scores of mothers insisting that "Heidi" come on as scheduled.

The game had been a classic AFL shootout, with the Jets' Namath and the Raiders' Daryle Lamonica throwing 71 passes for 692 yards.

There were six lead changes and ties through the first 59 minutes, the Jets taking a 32-29 lead on Jim Turner's fourth field goal, a 26-yarder, with 65 seconds to play.

The Raiders returned the kickoff to their 22-yard line.

Lamonica connected with halfback Charlie Smith on a 20-yard pass play, and a facemask penalty put the ball on the Jet 43-yard line.

Cut to commercial, followed by station identification.

And then . . . "Heidi."

All of NBC's affiliates east of Denver cut to the film.

While the Raiders mounted their comeback in the Oakland Coliseum, fans who had been watching the game saw a little girl in pigtails making her way to her grandfather's house.

When the phone lines came back up, calls flooded the NBC switchboard. Some who couldn't get through called the New York Police Department, tying up what was described as "the most elaborate emergency call system in the world" for several hours. Others called the New York Telephone Co. and the New York Times.

Back in Oakland, Lamonica hooked up again with Smith, this time on a 43-yard touchdown pass that put the Raiders ahead, 36-32, with 42 seconds to play.

Namath had time to rally the Jets but never got the chance.

Teammate Earl Christy fumbled the ensuing kickoff and the Raiders' Preston Ridlehuber recovered the ball at the two-yard line and dived into the end zone.

The Raiders had scored twice in nine seconds and pulled out a heart-stopping victory.

About 80 minutes after the game, NBC tried to ease the situation by running crawlers across the bottom of the screen giving the final result.

But it blew that too.

One was flashed as Heidi's paralytic cousin, Klara, summoned the courage to try to walk.

"When it comes to doing the wrong thing at the wrong time," wrote the New York Times, "NBC should receive a headless Emmy for last night's fiasco."

Even those viewers lucky enough to see the end of the game were short-changed--NBC came back from a commercial after Smith's 43-yard touchdown.

Many viewers didn't learn the score until long afterward.

About an hour after the game, Jet Coach Weeb Ewbank phoned his wife in New York.

"Congratulations," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

"On winning," she said.

"We lost," he told her.

Ninety minutes after the game, NBC's Goodman issued an apology to football fans: "It was a forgivable error committed by humans who were concerned about the children who were expecting to see 'Heidi.' I missed the end of the game as much as anyone else."

The headline in the New York Daily News the next day summed it up: "Jets 32, Raiders 29, Heidi 14."

The NFL inserted language into its TV contracts guaranteeing that, in the future, games of visiting teams would be shown to their home markets in their entirety.

Cline was stunned.

"I was surprised to see it in the New York Times the next day," he says. "And I was surprised to hear [NBC news anchor] David Brinkley report on it, calling me 'the faceless button-pusher in the bowels of NBC.' I took exception to that. I wasn't a button-pusher."

So why didn't he do the logical thing and stay with the game?

"If I had done what was logical, I would have been fired the next day," he says.

Instead, he adds, he was promoted about a month later.

Namath and the Jets didn't lose again that season, defeating the Raiders, 27-23, in a rematch for the AFL championship at New York before shocking the football world with their 16-7 victory over the NFL champion Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III.


Edwards, who lives in Brentwood with her husband Mark Schneider and their 5-year-old daughter, Hannah, is dumbfounded that "the Heidi Game" is still remembered.

"What's fascinating to me is that, to this day, even young men in their 30s remember being kids and seeing their fathers throwing things at the TV set," she says. "It's really amazing. . . .

"I remember being at my friend Howie Mandel's house 10 years ago for a pool party and him running out of his guest house and saying, 'You're on TV. You're a great moment in sports.' "

Many years ago, the actress says, the producers of "The Love Boat" television series talked about putting together an episode starring Edwards and Namath and spoofing the "Heidi Game."

Edwards has continued to work as an actress, appearing in about 15 feature films and numerous television shows. She recently completed filming on an episode of "The Nanny" and a TV movie starring Burt Reynolds.

Her biggest role?

"Probably 'Heidi,' " she says. "In the sense that it's the one thing that people seem to associate with me and because of its impact."

She says she is still asked about it frequently.

"In fact," she says, "fairly recently somebody mentioned it and a fairly young up-and-coming actor said, 'Oh, my God. That was you?' And I was surprised that he knew about it because he was probably only about 30. He said he remembered his father and his grandfather talking about it."

Edwards, though, still doesn't understand how anybody could get so worked up over a game.

"That's the thing that kind of blows my mind," she says. "I live with a devout Laker fan and I know for a fact that if anything like that happened during a Laker game, our television sets would be hurled from the nearest window--and not being involved in sports myself, that's an unusual emotion for me to understand.

"But, then again, if you did it to 'ER,' I would probably have the same reaction." 

Rams tie San Francisco, November 18, 1968


1968_1118_sports The Rams escaped from San Francisco with a 20-20 tie and quarterback Roman Gabriel realized it could have been a lot worse.

Gabriel waved off the Rams' field goal unit for one more chance to score a touchdown that would win the game. His pass to Bill Truax was good for a score, but the play was called back because of a penalty. Bruce Gossett then kicked the tying field goal with 17 seconds left. This was the NFL before the overtime rule, so a tie was a tie.

"I was not satisfied to get a tie," Garbiel told The Times' Mal Florence. "I was confident that we would get a score. ... As it turned out I was right but, basically, I was very wrong when I think of it now. If that pass had been incomplete or intercepted I would have been the goat."

--Keith Thursby

Sports columnist on golf in Cuba, November 18, 1958


1958_1118_sports Times columnist visits Cuba and reports about golf. Golf?

"The Cuban rebel leader, Fidel Castro, has dealt the tourist business in Havana an awful blow," Braven Dyer wrote, adding that the incoming revolt didn't stop the celebrity golfers from having a great time.

According to Dyer, his party was stopped by soldiers as they drove from the Havana Hilton to the golf course. Johnny Weissmuller, an Olympic athlete who became famous again in a second career as Tarzan, "let out his jungle yell and the gendarmes promptly lowered their rifles, smiled and yipped 'Tarzan' as they waved us on."

Other celebrities of the era along for the trip included Buddy Rogers, Hoagy Carmichael and Bob Crosby.

Readers learned that the Havana Hilton had only five floors open because "the rebels have scared people away." Dyer detailed dinner one night: "You never saw such food. The most popular drink with tourists is the frozen Daiquiri, made of rum so light you hardly know you've had it until the roof caves in."

I realize this was a different era, with different standards, but a golfing trip to the Cuba during the revolution? Maybe there's a hard-hitting piece from this trip I haven't found yet. I'll keep looking. This story just read like a travel brochure and should have been spiked.

The rebels took control of Havana on Jan. 1, 1959. Probably plenty of available tee times that day.

--Keith Thursby

Mickey Cohen pal back from the dead, November 18, 1958


Here's an amusing little wrap-up of crime news: Mickey Cohen's pal comes back from the dead and a minor actress figures in a major trial about drunk driving. It never ceases to amaze me how much publicity celebrities were willing to endure in the old days in an attempt (often futile) to fight a drunk driving charge. The incredibly colorful Gregg Sherwood Dodge lost this case and paid a $100 fine. With luck I'll post more about her later.

Note: Since the fires began, the Daily Mirror HQ has been without dsl. I'm not in the fire zone, thankfully, but putting out the DM on an ancient laptop at Starbucks is less than ideal. Mr. Tecra 8000 is so thrilled to have an Internet connection that he's downloading a bazillion updates, slowing everything to a crawl. Until dsl is restored, posting at the DM is going to be sparse. Stay tuned. And keep the fire victims in your prayers.

Larry Harnisch


Rams win over Packers, November 17, 1958

1958_1117_sportsSid Gillman's high-powered Rams had just enough to beat the lowly Green Bay Packers, 20-7. Cal Whorton's thorough report in The Times had everything you needed to know about the game and then some, but mostly I was interested in the Packers.

Rarely have the Packers been bad for long, but this team was dreadful.

Quarterback Bart Starr, who would lead the Packers to greatness and even one day coach the franchise, made a brief appearance late in the game after the starter, Babe Parilli, threw three interceptions and coughed up a fumble. Whorton said the Rams' defense was tough enough that Starr "was lucky to get away with his head still on his shoulders."

The Packers finished the season 1-10-1 and Coach Ray McLean would be replaced by Vince Lombardi. And the Rams rarely had such an easy time again in Green Bay.

-- Keith Thursby


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