Nathan Marsak

Good Doggie! Fight the Power!

January 4, 1907
Los Angeles

Patrolman Sanders arrived at 2521 West Temple Street today to investigate complaints that a bull terrier had been a naughty dog. doggie

He was met at the house by a woman who insisted the dog was quite friendly and most quiet. “I’ll show you,” said the woman, who opened the door…and with one bound the pooch leapt upon the patrolman, tearing his coat sleeve and trouser leg. When Sanders drew his revolver, the fearless canine took the muzzle in his mouth and began a protracted game of tug o’ war with the interloper.

Sanders kicked the dog away, and the woman gathered the pup up in her arms and bore him away, weeping hysterically, crying “I’ll have you fired from the force you brute!” To which the tattered Sanders replied “Go ahead—do anything but please don’t let that dog out again!”

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The Times does not report on any further outcome of this encounter.

The Female Driver

December 21, 1907
Los Angeles minnieheadline

Hey, enough you, with the cracks about the lady driver. Let’s see you make a long tour over hairpin turn-filled mountain roads replete with sharp ascents and descents. Such a journey requires skill and judgement, “and yet,” writes the Times, “woman drivers are giving as good account of themselves in this work as men.”

During the dear Edwardian days, the more daring element among our fairer sex would, on such tours, more often than not content themselves with presiding at the wheel on smooth stretches, leaving the real driving to the patriarchy. Snorting a hearty pshaw at convention, Minnie Roberts of Madera shipped her 1905 White steamer touring car to Los Angeles to have it rebuilt as a runabout. Here they also painted the auto a bright red. She came down to LA to see how her car was coming, and, on visiting her pals Mr. and Mrs. H. D. Ryus, announced she was going to drive the beast home herself. Mr. Ryus loaned her a mechanic in case the car should break down, but otherwise, Minnie was at the wheel.

minnieatwheel

The two days, and 315 miles, were full of hills, fords, bends, sand, ruts, desert, canyons and thick woods—and few towns. The Tejon pass summit, where they were caught in a brief but fierce rain, is 4280 feet; Mint Cañon has a 3850 foot summit. Minnie and the mechanic donned leather-covered laprobes during the inclement weather, since Minnie “does not believe in” glass fronts or canvas tops.

Whence came Minnie’s love of hard driving and speed? It seems the week previous, Minnie had been taken for a ride in her pal “Wild Bill” Ruess’ fifty-horse-power Pope-Toledo (“that he uses to scare the life out of would-be motorists”) which, when it reached fifty-five miles and hour and could get no more speed, Minnie asked sweetly of Wild Bill, “Is this all the fast you can go?”

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(A 1905 White, above, indicating the proper placement of ladies within an automobile, an image I snatched from here.)

The Edendale Asteroid

December 20, 1907 meteor
Edendale

Was Los Angeles nearly ground zero for a Cretaceous-tertiary extinction event-styled piece of catastrophism? Sort of. Not really.

An asteroid nearly reached the open field near the home of Joseph Phillis, at the corner of McCullom and Berkeley early this morning. It exploded just before impact, leaving a burned patch twelve feet in diameter. The neighborhood was filled with heavy sulphurous smoke, in the center of which burned a dim blue flame.

Surrounding homes were rocked by the loud explosion and lit up by a Fourth of July spectacular, but the only extant remains of our spacejectile the shaken denizens could find were chunks of meteorite that resembled volcanic rock.

Otherwise neighbors, and dinosaurs, were not affected.

More Mashers

November 17, 1907 mashers
Los Angeles

levy's Mashers are at work across Los Angeles, although those at Levy’s Café certainly don’t have the cachet of a Caruso (or even of a Cazauran, I suspect) as reported on in Larry’s post below.

This time it was the work of ruffians, an all-too infrequently used word, which we at 1947project implore our readers to use at least thrice weekly henceforth.

In any course, Eugene Harrison, a “gentleman” by occupation, of 612 Figueroa Street, had taken his friends Mr. and Mrs. George Walters of 714 Figueroa, and one Miss Margaret de Baugh, a guest at the Hotel Ohio, 1104 East Seventh, off to Levy’s Café for some late-night comestibles and libations.

All was well until Harrison and Mr. Walters went off in search of a waiter so as to procure the group’s nightcaps, when in strolled a couple of rowdies. When Harrison and Walters returned they found their lady companions engaged in a struggle for some deep lip-lock with the burly intruders. Walters bravely ran off to find a policeman, whereas Harrison jumped upon the brutes, and by all accounts, put up a sturdy fight.

When Walters returned with a constable in tow, they found a supine Harrison, having received a broken nose and two black eyes for his trouble. The smooch-mad barbarians had fled.

The Walters’, and Harrison, recent and monied émigrés from Pittsburgh, are anxious to have the whole sordid affair hushed, but stated they were willing to testify against the mashers if the pair were ever arrested.

The former site of Levy’s Café now looks like this– overhead

….could this be an Edwardian-era building, remuddled into unrecognizability? Well, it’s late on a Friday night, or early on a Saturday morning, and I’m not about to go out investigating. But if it is an old building, I can conjecture with certitude that its interior no longer looks like this. levysinterior

Some Interesting Oil Facts, 1907-style

November 6, 1907 oilfirst
Los Angeles

Oil facts, you say? And you continue to comment, I thought this was a crime blog! Well, the way most people talk about oil companies, you’d think the SS was Toys for Tots. So it’s apropos, especially as we head into Tuesday and face the outcome of Proposition 87.

On this day in 1907, according to the US Geological Survey, the numbers were in: in 1906, California produced 23,098,598 barrels of oil. That’s more than Oklahoma and Kansas combined. (Texas came in with a paltry 12.5 million barrels.) Our oil came primarily from Kern River, Coalinga, Santa Maria, with Los Angeles finishing fourth. The value of California’s 23M barrels came in at 9.5M dollars ($194,973,917 USD 2005). One-sixth of that oil was exported to Japan, Chile, and the American Panama Canal Works.

Today, California is no longer number one (behind Louisiana, Texas and Alaska) but we’re far ahead of those dried-up old fields in Oklahoma and Kansas. In 2007 California should come in with about 274M barrels, over ten times that of 1907. And that, with a value of approximately 16.5B (804M USD 1907). And we’re at our lowest oil production since WWII.

oilwells oilLA

A Many Splendored Thing

November 6, 1907
Los Angeles

When Mrs. Jenevieve Van Lakum, a well-to-do and refined 35 year-old widow from Manitou, Colorado checked into an apartment at 803 East Fifth Street with her four children and a black gentleman, it was assumed by the proprietor that the gentleman was her porter.

But a certain Patrolman C. H. Jones espied Jenevieve and the black gentleman about town, and made an investigation. It came to light that the man, William Seay, was occupying the same apartment.

Humane Officer Reynolds took the children into custody and the two adults face arrest.

After Mrs. Van Lakum was taken to Central Station and interrogated, she broke down and admitted that she loved the man, and “could not explain her affection for the negro.” They came from the east to Los Angeles with the express purpose of becoming husband and wife, but the LA Powers That Be put the kibosh on that. Police suspected that Seay held some “uncanny” influence over her, but Jeneivieve denied that she had been hypnotized. Seay further stated that he maintained his relations with her only for the money she gave him, which to this point had amounted to about $500 ($10,261 USD 2005).

Postscript – on November 10, “Humane Officer” Reynolds confessed that the sextet had given him the slip. After having secured Seay’s promise to stay away from the woman, Reynolds allowed Van Lakum to take the children in search of a cottage to rent—and disappeared.

Says Reynolds: “I believe that she has found a cottage somewhere in the suburbs and is living quietly. Whether the negro visits her or not, I have no positive knowledge, but I am inclined to believe that he does.

“Information from the East states that Mrs. Van Lakum is the member of a prominent family in Chicago. I think that she is irresponsible. I believe she is mentally deranged.”

Let’s hope they found happiness somewhere, though where in 1907 Los Angeles that would be, I do not know. Certainly not in Edendale.

Signs of the Times

November 5, 1907 boozesign
Los Angeles

Just as an innocent toke of reefer leads to a lifetime of laudanum addiction, everybody knows that electric signs lead to…neon!

Neon wouldn’t be introduced to the United States until 1923 (specifically, at the Earl C. Anthony Packard dealership, 10th & Hope Street). That first reefer toke, though…that was the electric sign…

Property owners of 1907 argue that electric signs, particularly those of the swinging variety which jut from the façades of buildings, make the streets look tawdry. Moreover, they nullify the illumination systems on principal business streets, and will become eyesores and nuisances.

The Mayor, however, is outspoken in favor of electric signs. They illuminate business thoroughfares, and are an ornament to the city. A man of vision, our Mayor Harper.

But what to do, then, with the Jim “de champ” Jeffries’ new saloon sign on South Spring? He has had one built and installed, swung over the sidewalk, “bearing in letters as big as one of his mitts the magic pugilistic name.”

While this type of signage violates numerous and sundry City ordinances, the Board of Public Works has ignored similar signs in the downtown area that advertise cafés and theaters, who are crying foul in that municipal authorities have allowed such signs to hang for the last year. Because of Jeffries’ transgression, he and all other sign owners received letters from the City Attorney demanding the removal of any and all projecting signage, the worry being that should these signs become commonplace, “the sidewalks would be converted into tunnels darkened and obstructed by a covering of advertising signs.”

Moreover, a proposed ordinance shall prohibit signage advertising liquor. Can this be?

Mayor Harper stands firm. What will become of our city?

electricyouth Here’s a vision of the future: electric signage along Broadway, ca. 1920, as pictured in, uh, this book.

Hallowe’en Hi-Jinx

October 31, 1907 vandals
Los Angeles

Everyone loves Hallowe’en high jinks—the artfully tossed toilet tissue, the odd splattered egg. In 1907, of course, kids were simpler. They just caused railroad collisions and overturned buildings.

That the honest pleasures of simple thievery and gunplay would suffice: Mrs. W. Baker of 1211 Westlake Blvd. lost her potted plants, and her front gate, in fact numerous complaints came from the Westlake district of purloined porch furniture, and again, mysteriously, missing gates. Horse and buggies were stolen, and young men fired their guns at random, and we assume that a jack-o-lantern may have been smashed. But can a good time go too far?

Rail-greasings were the order of the evening’s festivities, as twenty-five yards of rail were greased at Santa Barbara and Vermont Avenue, causing the collision of two street cars; passengers were jolted, but none were injured. Similarly, a Grand and Downey Avenue car collided with a Vermont car, and a Vermont car crashed into a Redondo car, and a West Eleventh Street car slammed into a Grand Avenue car—Los Angeles Railway called out 100 men, fitted with sand and rags, to identify and correct grease traps and prevent further hooliganism. Pacific Electric men found oiled rails at two spots in Pasadena, and corrected the traps before more mayhem ensued. A tie was also placed across the Downey Avenue line, and a straw dummy was set up between the rails of the Pasadena short line.

Most remarkably, some students of Archimedes used a lever to overturn an entire real estate office. The 12×20 foot structure, at Avenue 46 and Pasadena Avenue, was filled with $500 ($10,261.79USD 2005) in new furniture that realtor W. H. Gilbert had recently purchased for his home; after overturning the building the vandals set about smashing all the furniture.

And so went another Los Angeles Hallowe’en, filled with holiday release. One wonders if there wasn’t a budding Sylvestre Matuschka in the spirited mix.

Salvation in the Round

October 21, 1907

Highland Park

First there was Dr. Widney’s Bethel, built into the notch of a hill in the form of a letter “A,” and now the tony downtown suburb of Highland Park is up for another piece of religious architectural eccentricity.

The seceders from the First Presbyterian Church of Highland Park, under the leadership of Dr. F. P. Berry, have purchased an unusually triangular piece of ground, 134 by 135 feet at the corner of Avenue 56 and Ash. Architect George Howard was given the task of designing a new church, and his solution to this awkward parcel problem for the good people of the newly formed Olivet Presbyterian Church? Build in the form of a complete circle, fifty-eight feet in diameter, with a circular auditorium that seats 650.

Don’t know as to whether this unique structure was ever built, but do know that it isn’t there now.
odd

Rail Bums, Japanese-Style

looking

October 9, 1907 hobos
Los Angeles

Where now we fret over every Mexican and Saudi, uh, Iraqi who crosses our border, time was, we fretted over the Japanese. And rightfully so—they are studious and upright, and therefore cunning. Oh, wait, that was the stereotype concocted after 1941. In 1907, they were all hungry railroad tramps.

You will I trust forgive me while I quote liberally from the original text: first

“Sound the alarm…the Japs have scaled the last wall of our complicated civilization. Having learned how to work, they are now starting in on the science of learning how not to work—invading Vagobondia. In fact the first crop of oriental Happy Hooligans was reaped yesterday morning.” hobopix

M. Mitsuz and R. Moresons traveled from Japan to Mexico in search of work. They worked Down South for a spell, “but for some queer reason got an inspiration to go with a trainload of Jap emigrants to Vancouver, where Japs get clumped around by the natives.”

The two aforementioned gentlemen were piled into a cheap day coach, and were “transported over more miles than they thought were on the globe.” Having made the journey from Japan, this writer feels that to be, likely, highly inaccurate. In any event, there was apparently no food on the train, as Mitsuz, “who is about the size of a pickled onion, murmured in his dreams the names of luscious Jap dishes that made his pal, Moresons, groan aloud. When the train passed any place where there were restaurants, their two little noses twitched and sniffed like rabbits.” Again, without there having been a reporter on the train with them, we can only marvel at the describatory liberties taken herein. But such was the deft and trenchant reporting of the time.

With dame hunger having taken hold, though while under bond and legally not allowed to leave the train, Mitsuz and Moresons beat it out of the railroad yards and into the nearest eatery: “They had their first introduction to their ‘ham an,’’ and somebody scooped out for them a restaurant pie resembling two clam shells, with a piece of felt hat for filling. They devourered it and suffered grievous things in their tummies during the night. Japanese nightmares, having all those crawly things you see shinning up the sides of rose vases for literary material, must be something fierce.”

That may be so. (I invite those readers of Japanese ancestry to confirm and clarify.)

While at the beanery, where our duo “ate until their skins were spread thin,” the train up and left without them, taking all of their belongings with. They ran around for a while, making “rag-time” gestures at officials, who dutifully ignored them. They climbed into a boxcar hoping to hop a freight north, but were pinched by railyard bulls, who “rounded them into the station with the regular grist of Weary Willies and tomato can bums.”

Messrs. Mitsuz and Moresons face deportation.