||Another vintage Thomas Guide has been listed on EBay. This one is from 1959. Bidding starts at $9.95.
Larry Harnisch reflects on Los Angeles history
||A hat from the Collegienne department at Bullock's Pasadena has been listed on EBay. Bidding starts at $5.99.
Money Well Spent
"We're in a fight for survival," Ernest K. Lindley, the tall, thin, wry chief of Newsweek's Washington bureau, told a gathering at the Press Club. "Unless we get the free world on its feet with large infusions of capital and overhaul our educational system Russia could beat us within the lifetime of the people in this room."
"I'm a taxpayer, too," he went on, "but after traveling around the world I feel that foreign aid is the best money we spend to hold off communism." He doesn't think we spend enough.
Lindley, here to accept an honorary membership in UCLA's Kappa Tau Alpha journalism society from his former schoolmate at Oxford, Prof. Joseph A. Brandt, said of a recent visit to Russia.
"THE TERROR is gone but the indoctrination program has taken its place. It is now implanted indelibly in the Russian people's minds that capitalism is the villain responsible for all things bad."
Meanwhile, the Russian leaders are doing a pressure selling job of their own bill of goods.
Lindley came away from the satellite countries feeling very sad. "There the people know better but they can't do anything about it. The lesson of the Hungarian revolt keeps them subdued."
He related a story he heard in a satellite country. A group of boys was being inducted into the Young Pioneers. In a kind of incantation each boy was asked, "Who is your mother?" "The Communist Party," he was supposed to reply, "Who is your father?" "Nikita Khrushchev." "What do you want to be when you grow up?" "A scientist." To the last question one boy replied, "An orphan."
FOR SOME obscure reason Guilio Amfuso's car went dead in Westwood Villiage. After getting it pushed to a service station he phoned MTA and asked how he could get to Burbank by bus. He is an assistant TV story editor at Warner Bros.
The girl consulted schedules for 10 minutes, occasionally checking in with a discouraging comment, and finally outlined a frighteningly safe- potentially a three-hour trip. "My advice," she said, "is to buy another car."
In '60, we feel we must mention
With just a wee touch of gloom.
The Democrats met in convention,
Will plot in a smog-filled room.
- RICHARD ARMOUR
WHILE DRIVING up to Vandenberg AFB Wednesday for the launching of the satellite Discoverer, which was postponed, Jim McNamara of KLAC came to a turnoff near the base with a sign he thought stated "Old Missile Road." He followed it a couple of miles, saw it lead nowhere and turned back. When he saw the sign again -- "Old Mission Road."
OUT AT Northrop they're telling of the first earth expedition to reach the moon.
The earth men were exploring a crater when suddenly they were surrounded by hundreds of small furry creatures, bouncing about andwheempting happily.
"Where is your leader?" the boss earth man asked. After much whoofling and whampling, one little Furry pointed to a cave. There the earth men found a Furry on a stone throne. He was much larger than the others and had a hypodermic needle sticking in his head.
"Are you the leader of the Furrys?" the boss earth man asked.
"Oh no, sir," was the reply, "I'm the Furry with the syringe on top."
Okay, fellows, back to work.
AT RANDOM - Dennis Affleck, 7, of Manhattan Beach, saw a picture of Saturn at school and when he got home he exclaimed, "Mommy, I saw a planet with a Hula Hoop around it" . . . Add ads that don't seem to mean what they state: From another paper: "Beaut,Ine. married epl. After 12 p.m." (It was under apartments for rent.) And another ahemmer from a North Side paper: "1 rm. apt. for rent in exchange for night companionship"
Scroll Crusade Strikes Deeply
You ask me, I say Burton Chace is carrying this "economy-in-government" crusade too far.
Let him cut financial corners by buying cheaper wastebaskets or by scrapping the jazzy two-tone commodes in the new Board of Supervisors barracks. Let him introduce resolutions that all county golf courses be trimmed to 17 holes.
That far, I'll go along. I'm a reasonable man.
But on the stunt he tried to pull this week, I draw the line.
The honorable Mr. Chace came out in favor of less scrolls to "distinguished" citizens.
"We're passing out so many scrolls that it's becoming more of an honor NOT to receive one."
That's his story.
But now, hear mine.
Never once as a kid was I singled out from the masses for some special achievement.
While other youngsters in my neighborhood were getting gold stars for coming to school with their teeth brushed, I was constantly being passed up by our teacher, who repeatedly made me the butt of a tiresome little joke about "knowing where the yellow went."
That woman really bugged me.
Even my mother's comforting words didn't help.
"Don't let it grate on you, sonny," she used to tell me. "Some people are just cut out to be nothing."
"You're more than a mother to me, Mom," I told her. "You're a pal."
And with her inspiration, I ran away from home at the age of 33 and joined a newspaper. I did this on the theory that any reporter who can spell his name is bound to get an accommodation for something -- even if it's only for drinking.
The results were instantaneous. As soon as I got a byline, the phone calls started coming in. Invariably, they followed this pattern:
"Mr. Coates? This is Henry B. Schwarzkopf of the South Whittier Men's and Women's Mixed Bowling Society calling."
"What can I do for you, Hank?" I ask.
After a pause, he says incredulously, "That's funny."
Becomes Man of Year
"You called me Hank and that's my nickname," he answers, continuing, "I'm chairman of our club's entertainment committee and we've just named you Man of the Year for your outstanding good works of a civic nature in the community."
"Why, I hardly know-"
"We're going to make the award at our annual banquet next Saturday."
"Well, I'm certainly flattered. I really don't deserve such an honor."
"The only thing," Schwarzkopf continues, "we got a p.a. system but we haven't worked out the entertainment program. Could you get us a few people like, say, FrankieLaine or Doris Day?"
I explain that both Frankie and Doris are on a USO tour in Oriente Province.
"Can't you get anybody?" he asks disappointedly. "We were even going to give you a plaque."
I explain that I can't. And then in a voice which I must admit is somewhat apologetic, he asks if I can switch him to Matt Weinstock.
So I've never made it as anybody's Man of the Year.
But, about two years ago, I did get a scroll from the Board of Supervisors. It changed my whole personality. Made me outgoing. Gave me a sense of being somebody, at last.
Now Burton Chace says it's an honor not to receive one.
I only hope he's happy. It doesn't matter that he's destroyed me.
But how can he sleep at night after what he did to those little Rose Parade princesses?
Los Angeles Times photo
This fellow isn't a movie star (although he does have some credits on imdb). But he is a famous Los Angeles figure and I came across his photo file the other day. The pictures are too good not to share. Update: This is Fred Otash, about to testify in the L. Ewing Scott case. The man got around.
Los Angeles Times photograph
|We've had one correct guess: Please congratulate Kip Brown for recognizing our mystery guest.
Update: "Moises Vivanco, calling 'You a big fat liar,' grapples with Freddie Otash," April 23, 1957, in the Yma Sumac contretemps. Otash operatives Bill Lowe, left, and Norman Placey watch.
Los Angeles Times photograph
|Update: Sept. 3, 1959, Otash, right, with jockey Kenneth "Kenny" Godkins, waiting to appear before the grand jury in an investigation of horse racing. Otash was indicted on four counts of race fixing and horse doping. (Otash got six months in jail. Godkins was later sentenced to prison on drug charges).
Photo by Don McCormack / L.A. Times
| Update: Aug. 30, 1957, Otash, right, with surprise witness Christine Overhamm and defense attorney Arthur Crowley in the Confidential magazine trial.
Photo by George Rose / L.A. Times
|Please add Carol Gwenn to the people who recognized our mystery guest as (in James Ellroy's words) "The late, great Freddie Otash." This photo was taken in 1981 for a Times story by Bill Overend in which Otash recalled his days as a vice officer.
Photograph by Larry Harnisch / Los Angeles Times
On a recent trip to the city archives, the Daily Mirror looked into the agenda packets for the Los Angeles Police Commission. We found an investigation of an application for a cafe permit at Pandora--later Pandora's Box--8118 Sunset Blvd. The file reveals attitudes toward gays, includes an account of an arrest for prostitution, takes a look at jazz (those cats were noisy), describes the neighborhood (which also included the Garden of Allah and Sherry's) and shows the challenges faced by restaurant operators--and police--in the 1950s.
"Location frequented by prostitutes and homosexuals," hearing examiner said.
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A jacket from J.W. Robinson's dated 1914 has been listed on EBay. Bidding starts at $4.99