Diver Down

April 20, 1927
Los Angeles

When evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson, the anointed queen of Echo Park’s Angelus Temple, went to Ocean Park Beach last May 18 and faked her own disappearance so she could run off with a boyfriend, even she could not have anticipated the hysteria that followed. For while her theological appearances were occasion for outpourings of public adoration, in vanishing, she moved into a new realm of fame.

Congregants promptly offered a $25,000 reward for the return of their favorite alive, though she was widely presumed drowned. Word of the reward passed like quicksilver among the community of professional divers, perhaps without the "alive" clause appended. One of these, Edgar Harrison, was already in town from Catalina to testify in an insanity case, and stopped off on his way home to take a dive off the end of amusement laden Lick Pier on May 25, where no sign of the missing woman was found. The water pressure exacerbated an attack of appendicitis, and Harrison died in agony. By the time Aimee stumbled out of the desert crying kidnap (a lie that was soon exposed), Edgar Harrison was in his grave.

Today, his widow Edna sat in court seeking $500 in death benefits that had been denied by the State Industrial Accident Commission, which claimed that Harrison was acting as a private citizen when he went diving for Aimee’s reward. Edna countered that her husband was operating under orders when he received his injuries, and further that she had been receiving threatening letters, ostensibly from the City of Los Angeles, suggesting that she seek payment from McPherson and Angelus Temple, and leave the city out of it.

McPherson’s mother Minnie Kennedy took the stand, and said she had known nothing of Edgar Harrison’s dive until she was invited to attend his funeral, and that she had sent flowers and $500 to the widow, the latter which was returned. Edna countered that indeed $500 had been proffered, by two "impudent" representatives of the Temple, but that when she suggested they talk with her lawyer they had snatched the money away, called her "a bitter woman" and stalked off.

Edgar Harrison was survived by two young children, Edgar Jr. and Lois.

Silk Stocking of DOOM!

April 19, 1927
Pasadena 

Yee-ouch! Mrs. Fred Anderson, Pasadena matron of 1304 North Catalina Ave., was dressing this morning when she slid one shapely foot into a stocking she’d last worn several months back on a visit to the remote  Imperial Valley.

It seems she picked up a hitchhiker on that trip, for inside the toe wriggled one very annoyed small scorpion. It struck the lady thrice, and off she hopped to Emergency Hospital, where Chief Surgeon Clement C. Troensegaard told her how lucky she was to have been foot-stung and not tongue-stung, for only on especially tender spots are scorpion wounds fatal.

Still, we bet this is one gal who will never put on a pair of hose again without checking them very, very carefully for unwanted guests…. as should we all.

Celeb Behind Bars

April 18, 1927
Beverly Hills
 
johngilbertJohn Gilbert, celebrated film star and sometimes paramour of Greta Garbo entered lock-up today with a sheepish grin on his face.  Gilbert was arrested for disturbing the peace early on April 11 when he appeared at the Beverly Hill Police Station after a party at his home, demanding that someone be arrested.  Who exactly, he wouldn’t say.  When police explained they could not make an arrest without a name, Gilbert became so boisterous that he was jailed until morning.
 
"I must have been laboring under a hallucination and looking for trouble," Gilbert said of his behavior.  "I wasn’t angry at any of my guests and I just went down to the station and the boys took care of me; very kind to me."
 
Gilbert was sentenced to 10 days in jail, which he said, "ought to be a nice, quiet vacation."
 
Could there have been trouble with Mauritz Stiller, Gilbert’s main rival for Garbo’s attentions?  Too much sauce?  Or just a celeb behaving badly?  It’s anyone’s guess – Gilbert kept mum on the cause of his outburst.

The Snake and She

Sue Carroll in rattlesnake coat, 1927

April 17, 1927
Hollywood Boulevard

That’s actually Sue Carol, 5’3", Fox Films player and daughter of late "Chicago capitalist" Samuel M. Lederer (and later, the agent who discovered, married and buried Alan Ladd), modeling the reversible panne velvet-lined rattlesnakeskin coat her mama sent from home. 64 snakes, averaging more than four feet each, went into the garment, which some are calling Eve’s revenge. Miss Carol is currently appearing in Slaves of Beauty, a satire of the beauty parlor scene featuring some wacky business with a magical clay that leaves the skin under it lookin twenty years younger. Wonder if it works on rattlesnakes?

Glamorous Hollywood

 actor

April 17, 1927
Hollywood

Motion-picture actor J. Wallace Walker, of 1636 Argyle, had lost his fiancé (and also-actress [as Jane Terry]) Polly Wheaton to another gent, one James Lewis.  Miss Wheaton and Mr. Lewis were having coffee in Lewis’ apartment at 525 Santa Barbara Avenue when Walker burst in brandishing a butcher knife.  Walker forced Wheaton into his car and beat her as he drove, until she leapt out at Beverly and Western.  Walker jumped out after and continued to beat her on the sidewalk until a friendly taxicab driver stopped him and took her to her apartment.

Walker continued on with his illustrious career, while Miss Wheaton is not to be found among cinematic legacy.

With the Help of Hermes

cityhall

 7 Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech. 8 So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. 9 Therefore is the name of it called Babel (confusion); because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.

theTOB 

What’s Cookin’?

April 15, 1927

Lmenuadies of Los Angeles!  Do your cakes fall?  Is your husband weary of tough pot roast?  Do the words, "Company’s coming" fill you with dread?  Never fear, because Mabelle E. Wyman is here!

Throughout the 1920s, master chef A.L. Wyman answered the questions near and dear to the hearts of Times readers in his weekly column, "Practical Recipes:  Helps for Epicures and All Who Appreciate Good Cooking," supplemented by the popular daily feature, "Suggestions for Tomorrow’s Menu."  After Wyman’s death in 1926, his widow, Mabelle, immediately took over the columns.  Then, she did him one better, announcing free cooking classes to be offered weekly under the auspices of the Los Angeles Times. mabelle

Approximately 1000 Angelenos crowded into Wyman’s lecture room at the Southern California Manufacturers’ Exhibit at 130 S. Broadway for the inaugural class on April 15, some of them sitting on window sills and even under the enamel sink on the stage.  Within a week, the Times announced that classes would be offered on Tuesdays and Fridays to accommodate the demand.

Domestic science was a relatively young discipline, and like many burgeoning fields, sought legitimacy in its early days by emphasizing the ‘science.’  Nutrition, economy, efficiency, and tidy presentation were prized, sometimes over taste.  While this era in culinary history gave us the icebox cake, it also ushered is a parade of congealed horrors like the tomato frappe (the less said of this unholy mixture of condensed soup and iceberg lettuce the better).

Wyman’s culinary focus was typical for the time, if quirkier.  She emphasized meatless dishes, like her Potato and Peanut Sausages, as well as foods grown or produced in Southern California.  Popular demonstrations included recipes for Spanish omelettes, cucumber loaf, orange cookies, and the ubiquitous tamale pie.

tamalepieAfter the first class, Wyman encouraged her audience to submit questions to a question box, and guaranteed answers either during the next class or in her "Practical Recipes" column.  While most columns simply answered requests for particular recipes, others were more cryptic.  One can only wonder at the query that prompted Wyman to write, "Mrs. S., Los Angeles:  I am sorry but the law prohibits my either printing the recipe you ask for or sending it through the mail."  Bathtub julep, anyone?

Wyman seems to have been as good as her word, frequently humoring readers who requested recipe reprints.  Despite being demonstrated several times at her lectures, and appearing in A.L. Wyman’s posthumous Daily Health Menus (available for check out at the Los Angeles Public Library), Mabelle printed the recipe for tamale pie no less than 10 times during her tenure with the Times.

The classes remained popular until Wyman’s sudden death on January 23, 1931.  She was found at her home at 424 Arden Ave. in Glendale (also the mailing address listed in her column for A.L. Wyman Laboratory Kitchen), having suffered a heart attack.  Her estate, including a collection of over 200 cookbooks, was auctioned February 8, 1931.

Recommended reading:  Laura Shapiro’s Perfection Salad, a lively study of domestic science and city cooking schools around the turn of the century, and Sylvia Lovegren’s Fashionable Food:  Seven Decades of Food Fads, a collection of trendy, eyebrow-raising recipes (including one for the ubiquitous tamale pie).

Also of interest:  The Food Timeline, a culinary history project created and maintained by a librarian (woot!), featuring landmark foods trends through the ages.  Peking duck to hummingbird cake, it’s all here.

Not Exactly the Welcome Wagon

April 13, 1927
Pasadena 

Col. Frank Benedict is moving up in the world. Recently named one of six "minute men" prohibition officers and presented with a patrol car capable of hitting 80 mph (!) for late night liquor hunts, he’s also taken possession of a new home on exclusive Terrace Drive in Pasadena, just a jig from Millionaire’s Row.

In the evening, the gentle scents of jasmine, orange blossoms and datura perfumed the air… but beneath them, Benedict detected a heavy, sweet and larcenous odor, the unmistakable tang of sour mash a-brewing. Sniff, sniff, sniff went the revenue man, until he found himself three doors down, outside #146. Local and federal agents were called, and the raid that followed netted Frank Meyers (real name Joseph Mendella) in the act of tapping a 300 gallon still, 140 gallons of steaming mash and equipment valued at $50,000.

Mendella must have had juice, and we don’t mean joy juice. The case lingered until March 1928, when he was convicted of possession of a still and the mash, fined $500 and sentenced to just thirty days in jail.  

Larry Harnisch: Futurist!

Some of you have been asking, since we made the leap from 1907 to 1927 last month, "hey, what happened to Larry?" And because the answer was top secret, very hush hush and on a need-to-know basis, we’ve been unable to answer. Until now.

Click on over to the L.A. Times’ blog section, where you’ll discover Larry Harnisch’s brand new Daily Mirror Blog, a study of the crime and culture of 1957 Los Angeles. The new blog launched yesterday, but already features a backlog of tales, including the baffling (for 1957) death-by-starvation of Buster Crabbe’s daughter, a first-person piece by musician Dave Pell on the Sunset Strip scene, reprints of vintage Paul Coates columns and today’s post, a nasty little story of lust, blackmail and murder in a glass walled house where nobody locked the doors.

The Times has been experimenting with blogs for a while. And while we’re sorry to lose him, we’re glad they finally noticed the ace blogger toiling away in their copy edit department, gave him a byline, and are letting him work his archival magic. 1957 seems rather a florid time from the tasteful vantage of 1927, but we’ll be cocking an eye in its direction regularly. After all, as Criswell liked to remind us, "We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives!"

Best of luck to Larry in this and future endeavors.