The lady on Bunker Hill saw smoke drifting and phoned the fire department. “Hurry! City Hall’s on fire!” All available trucks raced to the scene, and uniformed firemen scaled the steps with crowbars and axes at the ready, caught the express elevator and searched out the flames–but there were none. It seems the caller had merely seen a small cloud pass before the venerable tower, and the cloud had passed by, leaving no destruction in its wake.
We thank you for coming along on our nine month’s voyage into old Los Angeles, city of vice and foolishness, of sunlight and deep shadow.
Many of you have asked “What’s next after December 31?” The real question should be “What about March 13th?” You see, we somewhat arbitrarily began our blog adventure in March 2005/1947, and the plan was always to loop around at year’s end and finish out the 1947 calendar year.
So tomorrow, you’ll find us having super-charged our time traveling, rewinding further still to January 1947. Elizabeth Short, who will soon become more famous than she ever dreamed, welcomes the new year in San Diego, thinking idly of finding a ride back to L.A. W.C. Fields awaits burial after his sad Christmas death from a stomach hemorrhage. It’s 1947 all over again. Anything can happen.
Stay tuned for buttermilk skies and much more strangeness between now and March 12, and on March 13 an announcement of what fresh form 1947project will take.
yours,
Kim and Nathan
(and Larry, too–hey, you read the comments, right?)
1947project
They met again in Superior Court, Douglas Ralford, electrical engineer of Long Beach, and Dr. W. R. Senseman, Lancaster hospital owner, and his nurse, Alma Carleton. The last time was November 4, 1946, when Vivian Ralford gave birth to an apparently stillborn son.
Alma told Vivian her child was dead moments after his birth; seven hours later, wrapped in paper in the morgue, baby was heard to cry. He was hurried back to the nursery, where he died two hours later of exposure.
The Ralfords were seeking $100,000 in damages, but reached a pre-court deal through Attorney S.S. Hahn and Senseman’s insurance company, believed to be in the range of $5000.
Nathan and Kim are back on the air this week in a moody mood piece scribed by KNX investigative reporter Michael Linder, the L.A. Press Club’s 2004 Radio Journalist of the Year. You can hear our spot throughout the hourly news round ups either on Thursday or Friday, and probably thoughout the weekend, on KNX-1070 AM.
The peace of little Sharon Lee Christensen’s sleep was shattered tonight when a late model sedan crashed through the wall of the 5-year-old’s bedroom at 8852 Cynthia Street and came to a stop atop the child, with only her mattress protecting her from certain death.
The incident began when Lucille Bianchi, 20, a nurse, parked her car on a steep grade on Larrabee Avenue near Sunset Boulevard. The car rolled free and Lucille hopped onto the running board, struggling frantically to get inside and throw the brake. Before she could, the car smashed through the Christensen’s wall, with Lucille along for the ride. She was taken to West Hollywood Emergency Hospital with a possible broken pelvis. Sharon Lee, meanwhile, went to sleep in a less drafty part of the house.
He didn’t obey the boulevard stop, so cops pulled him over. Donald I. Smith, 50, sat in his car in front of 1640 S. Robertson and eyed the rearview as the officer walked towards him. By the time the man reached the car, Smith was slumped over the dash with a bullet in his head. He died an hour later in Santa Monica Hospital. File under: you’ll never take me alive, copper.
It didn’t take long to determine that Smith was the man wanted for kidnapping his 14-year-old stepdaughter Sheila Shirley Marilyn Morrison from her aunt’s place in Leucadia on Christmas. The girl had already been found safe in a hotel in La Mesa.
Smith must have known they were going to catch him. He left a series of mocking notes in the car. One read: “To John Law–Greetings, John. Our relations to the best of my memory in the past were never overaffectionate. It’s all been strictly business, so let’s keep it that way. My name is Donald I. Smith. My address is Nebula M-17. Any astronomer can tell you, but it’s too far to bother going there. Nebula M-17 is quite a journey and it may tire your flat feet. Happy New Year and may all your kids be born with flat feet. I was educated at three prisons. I’ve been in jails too numerous to mention. I’ve got a long prison record.”
No one bothered to check to see if Nebula M-17 burned a little dimmer in mourning.
Each family celebrates the season in their own way. Some have carolling and stockings, some make a respectful visit to church, others opt for Chinese food and a double feature. Glenn Hepner, 43-year-old upholsterer, honored Christ’s birth by picking up a stranger, Alonzo W. Boren, 61, and bringing him home to 2831 S. Orange Dr. for a drinking party.
Hepner’s wife Anna retired early, leaving the two men to their tippling and horseplay, and in the morning found Glenn dead on the bathroom floor. Rousted at his home at 724 N. Fairfax, Boren admitted he’d been fighting with his host, and had left him in the bathroom. An autopsy is pending.
Mrs. Mabel Axley, 30-year-old beautician, didn’t tuck her sons Claude Jr., 8, and Jimmy, 3, into bed on Christmas eve. After a fight with her drunken, unemployed husband Claude, she was locked out of the family manse at 739 Marine St., and spent the night in the garage. Mabel awoke to the heat and smell and sound of fire–the house was burning, and no one responded when she pounded on the door.
Gerald C. Benson, who lives at 801 1/2 Marine, soaked himself at the garden hose and made several valiant efforts to rescue the children, to no avail. The children’s mother was badly burned attempting to get to her sons, and is in Santa Monica Hospital tonight. Claude Axley, meanwhile, emerged unscathed. He has been charged with two counts of murder.
And on Marine St., a charred teddy bear lolls in the ashes, along with other ruined Christmas gifts opened not by tiny fingers, but by flame.
While staff and customers awaited the start of the annual holiday party at Vallera’s Rotisserie Restaurant and Delicatessen, 8680 Wilshire Blvd., the festivities were disturbed by the sudden explosion of two stench bombs, one of which had been left a phone booth. The restaurant is the sixth business being picketed by the A.F.L. Culinary Workers union to be attacked in this manner.
Owner Joe Vallera says that the union is disputing one employee’s wages, but that most of his 60 workers have been crossing the line. Those workers rushed into action following the bombing, manning mops and fans to flush the foul smell away. After an hour they had either succeeded or become acclimated, and the party went on as planned.
Ho Ho Ho, Stenchy Christmas!
Trying to entertain her daughter Penelope, 18 months, while herself recovering from surgery, Mrs. Evelyn Gavrus of 10923 S. Hobart Blvd. tossed a closed bottle of laxative pills to the baby, thinking she would toy with it like a rattle. The child deftly popped the lid off and gobbled down four or five pills as Evelyn screamed for help. Neighbors came running, but by the time they got Penelope down to Park Emergency Hospital, Gardena, she was dead, her tiny frame overwhelmed by the 2/100s of a grain of poison inside each pill.