China Offers Great Market for U.S., Diplomat Says

Florence Newmark marries Sylvain Kauffman at 903 Beacon Ave. View Larger Map

Nov. 22, 1909: Former Judge J.C. McNally, the U.S. consul to Nanjing, "expressed optimistic views of the commercial future of China and said that the country would be a network of railway lines within a few years" … a tong war breaks out in Sacramento … and artist Edith Garrigues displays paintings she did in Reno while establishing residency for a divorce. "The snow-capped Sierra Nevada scenes along the beautiful Truckee River, as well as picturesque spots in town, are among her subjects. Several of her finest pictures were sold," The Times says.

Woman Wants to Buy Airplane

Nov. 5, 1909: Mrs. H.A. Arnold wishes to buy an airplane and hopes to learn how to fly during the winter. She would become the first woman in the world to buy an airplane, The Times says … And an possible lead on the Denver Strangler of 1894.

Paul V. Coates – Confidential File, Oct. 27, 1959

Coates Is Reluctant Stripper of Airways     You want my opinion, I say there's something almost indecent about Japan Air Lines' luxury flight to Tokyo.     We left Los Angeles after midnight -- an hour when self-respecting Occidentals give some thought to retiring.  And that was the kind of idea I had in the back of my mind.     But immediately after the no-smoking lights were off, an adorable hostess sidled up to me and, without so much as a by-your-leave, began unbuttoning my jacket.     Well, I knew right then and there what kind of a ride this was going to be.     After a brief, one-sided bout, which she won two falls out of three, the jacket was off and I had been deftly slid into a cotton coat with an ominous bull's eye painted on the back.     "Japan Air R'ines happi coat," she told me.  "Very comfta'bra."     Then she knelt down and began undoing my shoes.  "Here!"  I snapped sharply, because with these Oriental girls you never know where they'll stop.  "I'm quite old enough to untie my own shoes."     Anyway, after she and I removed my shoes, she and I helped me into a pair of Japanese style "sleep socks,"  thanked her profusely and collapsed into the embryonic position, only to be nudged from impending slumber a few moments later.  It was her again.  This time, wearing  a colorful kimono and bearing a magnum of Piper Heidsieck.      "You r'ike champagne?" she asked.  Without waiting for an answer, she poured me some, then began plying me with an assortment of hors d'oeuvres including delicate raw fish rice wrapped in egg and tied with strips of seaweed, caviar and smoked salmon.     When that encounter ended, I dozed again and slipped into an intriguing nightmare.  For some reason, Norrie Poulson, wearing one of those Russian fur hats and thick-soled boots, was chasing me through rows of unreserved seats at the Hollywood Bowl and shouting:  "You won't bury me, I'll bury you."  Before I had a chance to reason with him, I was gently shaken awake and, while futilely protesting that I had hardly finished my hors d'oeuvres, I was served a huge breakfast of mandarin oranges, crab meat omelette, bacon, toast and coffee.     In what seemed to be mere minutes later, it was cocktail time.  Then we stopped to refuel in Honolulu.  I curled up again.  And again I was awakened by my personal Cio Cio San who asked: "You r'ike r'unch?"     "I r'ike," I muttered irritably, "to get some s'reep." Coates Is Not a Cad      Her lovely eyes clouded with confusion, and for a horrible moment I thought she might cry.  I felt like a beast.  "Okay," I said softly, giving her obi a reassuring pat, "Lunch."     The exquisite features folded into a smile.  And, against my better judgment, I had tournedos of beef, mimosa salad, buttered green peas and chocolate pudding with whipped cream.     Then we flew across the International Date Line, and it was the next day.  Or, the day before. Or, something.  Anyway, she came back in a kimono, carrying a fresh bottle of champagne, and we started the whole thing over again.     When I left L.A. I was a slim and boyish, if balding, foreign correspondent.  When we landed in Tokyo I was five pounds over the allowable weight limit, giddy with the effects of wine drunk at high altitudes, and permanently spoiled rotten.

'War Is War'

Sept. 29, 1939: Ruth Locke describes a submarine attack off the Irish coast.

Santa Monica Dedicates Pier

Sept. 10, 1909: Edward Henry Harriman, "the master builder of railways," dies after a long illness, but the news is withheld from reporters until the stock market closes. Cmdr. Robert Peary files Part 2 of his description of discovering the North Pole. Evan Williams sings "Auld Lang Syne." RCA Victor records cost $23.67 to $35.51 USD 2008. A map shows the extent of Harriman's railroad holdings. "Los Angeles people were accustomed to think of E.H. Harriman as a distant magnate who owned some railroads away off somewhere. When the commercial associations of this city appointed committees to ask him for new depots, they always spoke of 'you' and of 'our city.' But in reality, it was more Harriman's city than theirs.... He controlled two, and probably all three, of the transcontinental railroads which connect Los Angeles with the East. He owned an even half-interest in the great Pacific Electric system, the greatest interurban trolley road in the world." Harriman was "bold, astute and energetic." Smashed sledges and frostbite on Peary's trip north.

"Admission Day's principal celebration in Los Angeles County yesterday centered at Santa Monica, where representative citizens gathered in thousands to join with the old city by the sea in the dedication of its municipal pier, which is declared to be the best of its kind ever committed to public use, and unique in many respects." The Los Angeles Motorcycle Club holds its annual meet at Ascot Park. The winner of the five-mile race rode an Indian motorcycle. "While sleeping?"     "...gathered as it has been from every part of the world, there cannot fail to come out from California in the years and centuries to come, men that shall do honor to their progenitors, and do honor to the nation, of which this state shall be one of the most proud." [Applause.]"

Man Saves Woman From Burning to Death

Sept. 6, 1909: Edmund Waller "Ted" Gale draws Gen. Adna R. Chaffee, head of the Board of Public Works.

Civil engineer W.O. Secor tells a remarkable story: As he was riding the Downey Avenue streetcar at Naud Junction, a flame shot from an automobile going south on Main and set fire to the clothes of a woman standing on the corner. He hopped off the streetcar, extinguished the flames -- which had burned away almost all the woman's clothing below the waist -- and got back on the streetcar. It was only when he resumed his ride to Eastlake Park that he realized he had burned his hand and went to the hospital. Feb. 5, 1940: The Naud Junction signal tower at Alameda and Ord is torn down, evoking memories of the old days of railroading in Los Angeles. (Note: Because of the way Typepad handles images, this looks fuzzy but if you click on it, the image is readable).

Baseless Prosecution of Homeless Addict

Aug. 24, 1899: The Orpheum presents barrelistic wonders and rag time comedians, plus Joseph Adelman, master of the xylophone.

The Times reports "baseless prosecution" of Richard Woodward, a homeless drug addict who accidentally broke a pane of glass at a Ferguson Alley saloon. "Chinatown": GITTES -- So how are you, Morty? Morty is wheeling in another body with the help of an assistant. MORTY -- Never better. You know me, Jake. As he begins to move the body into the refrigerator, he breaks into a wrenching spasm of coughing. Gittes spots the other body, lowers the. sheet on Mulwray. GITTES (picking up on cough) -- Yeah -- so who you got there? Morty pulls back the sheet. MORTY Leroy Shuhardt, local drunk -- used to hang around Ferguson's Alley -- Morty brushes some sand from the man's face, laughs. MORTY (continuing) -- Quite a character. Lately he'd been living in one of the downtown storm drains -- had a bureau dresser down there and everything. 98 Gittes has already lost interest. He starts away. GITTES -- Yeah. MORTY Drowned, too. This stops Gittes. GITTES Come again? MORTY Yeah, got dead drunk, passed out in the bottom of the riverbed.

Train From Santa Monica Plows Into Cows on Tracks

Aug. 19, 1889: Would you trust your shirts to a place where the "N" is backward?    The train from Santa Monica plows into a herd of cattle on the tracks a few miles outside town ... a prank with a fire hose ... and police are looking for a man who shot himself in the leg.

The Wrong Body

Aug. 17, 1889: Patented poultry powder ... but stay away from the gasoline stoves! A body found on Fire Island is not missing aeronaut F.D. Hogan, who lost a propeller on his airship and drifted out to sea. Below, a little background. Bonus item: Jack the Ripper.

Artist's Notebook -- Union Station

Union Station by Marion Eisenmann, Aug, 8, 2009

Marion sends her impressions of Union Station, the crossroads for countless travelers since it opened in 1939. Think of how many people have rushed through the station to catch their train -- and how many more have spent tedious hours waiting to leave or anxiously anticipating someone's arrival. The nation no longer travels by rail as it once did, but I still feel a spirit of adventure whenever I see the sign: "TO ALL TRAINS." Marion writes: This place is interesting, what I mean by it are its visuals, sound  and situations. Back in Germany I commuted a lot by train, I am glad I only joined these people on their wait, for a quick sketch, I then took the Metro home. I like the acoustic, the cave-like shelter and cool. Note: In case you just tuned in, Marion and I are visiting local landmarks in a project inspired by what Charles Owens and Joe Seewerker did in Nuestro Pueblo. Check back next week for another page from Marion's notebook. In the meantime, you can contact Marion here.