September 22, 1907
Venice
Someone–perhaps a drunken and disgruntled cook who was fired last night–snuck into the larder of the Ship Hotel around midnight and brought forth a great quantity of luxury foodstuffs, which were cast into the surf. It was no easy job. Three whole loins of beef, 200 pounds in weight, 250 pounds of clams and a number of oysters from eastern climes were among the waste found on the sand with dawn’s light.
September 22, 1907
Los Angeles
A few days ago I posted about the Vance family who, having lost their young son, responded to their grief with solemnity and rectitude, though in a manner unusual to the dictates of the age. More appropriate to the workings of 1907, perhaps, is the mayhem that ensued after the Musitelles of 812 Howard Street lost their little John.
Mr. and Mrs. John Musitelle have five children; four daughters, and their favorite, youngest child John Jr. Musitelle, a fruit merchant, often took little John on the wagon ride between their ranch in Fernando and the fruit markets east of Chinatown. The mother had admonished John Sr. to never let the boy out of his sight, but today, Musitelle entrusted the task to an employee, one Pete Gotelli. Musitelli had to stay in Fernando on business, and the boy, who was exhausted from playing, pleaded with his father to allow Gottelli to take him home. Musitelle consented.
Mrs. Musitelli waited at the corner of Macy and Howard for the arrival of her husband; when the Gottelli-driven fruit wagon arrived, Gottelli left the horses unhitched and fled (questioned later, Gottelli stated that he didn’t want to face the mother). There, in the carriage, little John appeared to be sleeping. It would be a long sleep—at the west end of the East Main Street bridge over the Los Angeles River, John had fallen from the wagon as it crossed the railroad tracks, and was crushed under its wheels. Mrs. Musitelle carried John to the couch inside, where he passed away.
“They have killed my Johnnie!” screamed Mrs. Musitelle, who in her rage became violent at all who came near. Neighbors had called the undertaker’s wagon from Pierce Brother’s, and as the boy was being loaded in, Mrs. Musitelle broke free from those restraining her and grabbed the boy back.
At that point Mr. Musitelle arrived home, and despite a desperate struggle, managed to stab himself in the chest, though without doing serious damage. Mr. and Mrs. were taken to another house, where Mrs. Musitelle insisted she did not recognize Mr. Musitelle. When she finally realized who he was, she accused him of killing the boy. Mr. Musitelle has stated that he will end his life at the earliest given opportunity.
We can only assume that, unlike the Vance family, the Musitelles will imbue their son’s funeral with every possible trapping of black-clad mourning.
Sept. 20, 1907Courtesy of David Markland, here are some photos from Sunday’s sold out Real Black Dahlia Crime Bus Tour.
Above, hosts Kim Cooper and Nathan Marsak pose for a candid snap with gelato master Tai Kim, who created a dozen Black Dahlia-inspired flavors to honor murder victim Elizabeth Short. (The previous day, Brad Pitt came in to sample the Black Dahlia flavors while his lady friend waited in the car. Brad’s picks? Vanilla and Whiskey for him, White Chocolate Cranberry Swirl for her. Miss Short would have been delighted.)
Saturday, September 23 – 11 AM – 4 PM
We’ve all been to funerals. Some of us more than others, but funerals, they’re all pretty much the same. Lots of black ostrich plumes. Black clothing with jet-black buttons. Stopped clocks and covered mirrors. A fancy coffin and a viewing of the body, a solemn cortege whereby you follow the hearse to the cemetery, and then you watch as your loved one, at the hands of the undertaker and gravedigger, is lowered into the cold earth. Then it’s back to the house for snacks. Today, however, Mr. and Mrs. L. M. Vance conducted a novel funeral ceremony for their fifteen year-old son Daniel, who contracted fatal cerebral meningitis after a recent dip in one of the local plunges. Mrs. Vance (famed for organizing the “Helpful Home for Boys,” at Trinity and 16th) wished to triumph over the sting of death and the horror of the grave, and according to the Times, “the mother succeeded, and as a result the friends of the family attended the strangest funeral service ever held in this city.” Before you get too excited, dear reader, remember, this is 1907, so you might do well to consider that when comparing the “strange funeral” of 1907 with the funerary customs of 99 years hence. The first order of operations was taking Dan’s body to Rosedale Cemetery, where he was placed in the crematory and reduced to ash. When friends gathered at the Vance home at 972 West 34th Street, instead of being met with his body in a casket, the house had been filled with flowers, arranged around Dan in his urn. Floral pieces were massed in profusion all around the parlor, where words of inspiration and hope were spoken by all, including Rev. B. Fay Mills of the Church of Brotherhood, who officiated. The ashes will remain in the home; said Mr. Vance, “I shudder to think of returning from the funeral and leaving the body of my boy under the ground.” And so went the strangest funeral ever held in this city. (The Vance home has since been covered over by USC’s Parking Lot P, which services the Humanities and Social Science Annex. The subsequent disposition of Dan’s ashes is unknown.)A Strange Funeral Indeed
September 16, 1907
Los Angeles
No Corduroy for the Frosh!
Sept. 16, 1907
Los Angeles
Occidental
