Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Hurrah for the telephone!

November 30, 1947
Los Angeles

Hurrah for the telephone!

First, Mrs. L.B. Beddoe, 4587 Date Ave., La Mesa, received a call from daughter Pamela Evans, who said she was going to kill herself. Mama called the LAPD business office and asked if someone could please stop her.

Radio patrolmen J.P. Hooper and T.A. Gibson raced to Pamela's pad at 104 N. Catalina, where the 19-year-old department store worker was passed out beside an empty pill box. The officers rushed her to Hollywood Receiving Hospital for a stomach pumping. Pamela presently revived, and murmured of the financial woes that had inspired her act.

But happily the phone had still been working, and so the lady lives. Moral: always pay your phone bill first.

104 North Catalina To-day

104, where Pamela worked at turning suicide from a verb to a noun, is no more.

The evolution of a neighborhood. From left to right, a nice Italian Renaissance/Spanish Eclectic, ca. 1935; some dingbatian boxitude ca. 1955; and our friend 100 Catalina with the Mexican lamp, Colonial S-bracket and Mansardisme, ca. 1975.

And look, here’s a copper blazing through the red, off to go help some wayward lass with a belly full of Seconal. We presume.

Whether suicide is an act of weakness or strength is beyond the scope of this post, but what’s certain is that in telephoning her mother, Pamela has revealed her attempt to be merely a parasuicidal gesture. I say neglect the phone bill!

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The Mystery of the Vanishing Cash

November 29, 1947
Los Angeles

Bertha Bremley, 5809 Blackstone, Bellflower, is baffled. It was less than two blocks from the clothing shop at 529 S. Broadway to the bank, she remembers nothing unusual happening during her walk, and yet when she arrived she no longer was holding the money bag containing $1000 in checks and $2155 cash which she intended to deposit.

That is one smooth pickpocket! Downtown strollers beware.

529 South Broadway To-day

The 1928 Schulte United building has been downgraded to a “hut.” A shoe hut, no less.

Downtown strollers beware, indeed. Vanishing money is endemic to the area. It’s rife with grifters and dips parting citizens from their geetus. Half a block down from Schulte I espied this collection of folk.

And what were they entranced by? Why it’s that old street con, the shell game!

And Mr. Flimmflam-man had no lack of marks today. The Deep Pinch, the V-Grip, Side Steal, Inside Shift and Side Load; sharpie had it down when spieling the nuts.

There are times I wish I’d been sober during my high school Spanish classes; woulda loved to glom said spiel, which had that unmistakable rhythm of Three Card Monte patter.

Monday, November 28, 2005

The Ballad of Homer and the Washboard

November 28, 1947
Los Angeles

In sentencing ex-con Homer Stone, 45, to a stint of one to ten years in San Quentin, Judge Clement D. Nye didn't praise Stone for pleading guilty and saving the state time and money, no. Rather, he rode the man who admits he beat his mother with a washboard after she accused him of being drunk.

"She called me a bad name, your honor," whined Homer. "I don't think she called you nearly enough," said the Judge. "If I had been there I'm sure I would have called you exactly what she did." Whereupon, one assumes, Homer would have beat Judge Nye with a washboard, so it's just as well he wasn't. The Stone home: 339 W. 46th Street.

Recommended listening: "Washboard" by the magnificent, mysteriously under-rated Florida garage band The Nightcrawlers.

339 West 46th, To-day

Perhaps Homer was just trying to…clean…her?

With a little more effort, he could have been dubbed the "Washerboard Killer."

Nice house, though. No stucco, no enclosed porch...nice fishscale shingle in the gable...and that's some bold fascia over those deep sofits. Dig the side lights at the door.

The perfect place to come back to after tying one on. And then mother pulls her uppity "J'Accuse!" routine. He probably went out of his way to let her live there with him. The ungrateful wretch. Uh, oh. Nice double-hung windows.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Low Visibility

November 27, 1947
Los Angeles

Driving in heavy fog last night, Chief Petty Officer Lavern J. Ringle, USN, veered off the road at Crenshaw and Manhattan Beach Boulevards and struck a eucalyptus tree. The collision fatally injured Ringle's 15-month-old daughter Cecelia Ann and left her mother Mae Amy in serious condition. Also slightly injured were Roger Ringle, 6, and his friend Ronald Taber, 1o. The Ringles reside at 920 Silva Street, Long Beach.

Arbor Day of the Dead

Damn trees, stealing our oxegyn (or whatever it is they do) and leaping out in front of motorists.

You’d think a Navy man would know better than to come onto dry land. Frigates are rarely menaced by child-killing eucalypti.

Friday, November 25, 2005

Crippled Lad Routs Would-Be Kidnapper

November 25, 1947
Los Angeles

16-year-old William Brooks Tissue was minding a used car lot for the owner when William F. Anserson, 25, asked Billy to show him what one of the cars could do. Once they were moving, Anderson produced a pistol and demanded the boy keep driving east. At 76th Street and Atlantic Ave., the brave youth ran the car up onto a curb and lunged for Anderson's pistol. Anderson ran, and was quickly arrested on a charge of kidnapping and robbery by two police officers who witnessed the incident.

Brave Billy Tissue weighs just 110 pounds and wears steel leg braces following an attack of infantile paralysis in 1938.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Girls Get Gassed

November 24, 1947

Clunk! Gas leaking from a new heater inside a garment plant at 104th Street and Grevillea Ave. poisoned five women, who keeled over their electric sewing machines around 10:30 this morning and had to be carried outside by their woozy co-workers. The women were given oxygen by a Fire Department rescue team, with the most seriously afflicted taken to Harbor General for observation.

After the firemen left, the remaining women returned to work, and soon the vacant lot beside the plant was filled with another round of queasy, disoriented gals. The firemen came back to treat these new victims.

Later still, the women who had been helping the others finally succumbed after eating their gas-soaked lunches, and the firemen came out for a third time. Only then were plant owners Mrs. amd Mrs. Cecil Webb told to shut up shop and fix the damn heater before allowing anyone back to work.

Grevillea & 104th To-day

There's still the detectable odor of petrochemical wafting around what’s now the Iglesia del Buen Samaritano, Inc. But that's probably product of the various attached gashuffing teens (who beat a quick exit out of frame at the production of camera).

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Westside Brats Run Amok, spankings at 11

November 23, 1947
West Hollywood

Two college boys out for a lark on a Saturday night. A nightclub. A cigarette machine. Trouble.

Patrick Cantillon, 20, 11610 Bellagio Road, Bel-Air and his pal, 22-year-old Martin F. Davis of 442 S. Bedford Drive, Beverly Hills, were inside Tabu of Hollywood, 7290 Sunset Blvd., when they became enamored of the cigarette machine, and sought to remove it from the premises.

Co-owner Leo Pavich, 1002 California Street, objected and bloodied the lads, who retreated with vengeance on their minds. Soon a bottle was hurled from a passing car, breaking one of Tabu's front windows and nearly striking several patrons. It was war.

The boys returned, bearing bricks. Pavich drew his gun and fired through their windshield, there was a scamble on the sidewalk, one of the youths took off running and Pavich shot at his fleeing figure. At this point several Tabu patrons had joined the melee. What fun!

No one was seriously hurt. Cantillon and Davis received emergency treatment for minor injuries, as did Tabu patron Larry Borgan. Then the would-be cigarette bandits were booked into the Hollywood Jail. We presume their mommies and daddies are not amused.

7290 Sunset To-day

Man. Now there’s a place where you can get your kicks. Unfortunately, such shenanigans and the building what spawned them are no more. Tabu was razed and in its place, come 1963, rose a magnificent googiefied Pioneer Chicken, with a three-arched roof that mimicked Stanley Meston's 1952 McDonald's prototype.

Of course, now that’s gone as well. It was razed a couple months ago for whatever this damn thing is going to be. I’ve got some feelers out, and I’ll post a Pioneer shot if and when I get one.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Speed Kills

November 22, 1947
Los Angeles

County officials are in no hurry to play host to 18-year-old Leonard L. Chambers, 652 S. Indiana Street, who was found guilty of going 55 in a 25 mph zone and sentenced by Santa Monica Municipal Judge Lawrence Scherb to 10 days in jail (nine suspended), 30 days without a driving license, and to visit the County Morgue in the next 10 days to gaze upon the mangled body of a speeding victim. A Coroner's office spokesman told the Times that in light of regulations, it was unlikely that this grisly date would be kept.

And He Could Bring Flowers

Nothing like keeping a grisly date. Perhaps li’l Len could have visited the crushed remains of this young lad, dented something fierce by his sporty convertible.

Monday, November 21, 2005

No, no, use your OWN wallet!

November 21, 1947
Los Angeles

When Henry Davis Jr., 24, died at Georgia Street Receiving Hospital yesterday, it seemed from his deathbed remarks that he'd been shot for having an empty wallet, after a trigger-happy pair of robbers hadn't bothered to look for cash in his pockets.

But when a Mrs. Henry Davis Jr. called the hospital asking about her husband, who had just expired, police became suspicious. If Davis had been kidnapped, robbed and dumped at the hospital, how would the wife have the slightest idea where he was?

Det. Sgts. L.O. Burton and J.G. Cotch had a talk with Mrs. Davis at her home at 2228 E. 98th Street, and soon learned that Ervie Smith, 21, of 9697 E. 98th Street had informed her that after holding up some gamblers for $700 in Santa Monica, Henry shot himself in the gut while putting his gun away. As a dying thanks to his partner for not stripping his pockets, Henry came up with the robbery story... and he would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for his meddling wife (who, presumably, will not be getting the $250 Henry died with).

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Today's lesson: use your wallet

November 20, 1947
Los Angeles

When the police found Henry Davis Jr. of 2228 E. 98th Street in the driveway of the Georgia Street Receiving Hospital, where he'd been tossed from a car, he was bleeding from a gunshot to the belly and near death. He told officers that two armed men had forced him into their car, discovered his empty wallet, and shot him before he could offer up the cash in his pockets. Then these hair-trigger fellas had dropped him off at Georgia Street.

After Davis died, police found more than $250 in his clothing.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

What price embarassment?

November 17, 1947
Los Angeles

$13,100. That's the amount Mrs. Marie Waterman wants as compensation for the events of last December 15, when her hand became trapped in the bathroom window of her apartment at 334 N. Normandie. Mrs. Waterman was in the all together at the time, and could not reach a towel. When she finally yelled for help, a man answered her cries and got an eyefull.

She is in Superior Court hoping that Western Loan & Building Co, her landlords, will pony up a whole field of cabbage for her trouble.

334 N. Normandie, To-day

Your tax dollars at work. Call it subsidized housing, or call it the projects, Mrs. Waterman’s nudie-cutie apartment building has been razed to build “Beverly Manor,” a 59-unit Section 8 & 236 complex. This uninspired pile appears to be one of those thrown up in the 80s by HCD, LAHD and CACTC (and, if you live there, your rent is paid by HUD, CALHFA & HACLA. It’s fun!) Marvel at the “Southwest” pastel colors and fake red-tile roof. Of course, this could be a prewar structure, bastardized to such an extent that nothing but its massing gives us a clue to its vintage.

Perhaps Marie the Hotcha Lady lived in something more like this, just up the street at 400 Normandie. A restrained Spanish Eclectic, with, miraculously, the entirety of its original double-hung and pre-1923 inward-opening casement windows. Spanish tile, as opposed to Mission, and nice balconets. The roofline shows Mission conceit, and the corner quoins and quoined arch are a welcome touch. Ah, the scent of the Panama-California Expo is in the air.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Strip Shopping

November 16, 1947
Los Angeles

Three fellas who stopped by the market at 1313 E. Olympic last night got a humiliating surprise when a pair of armed robbers made them slip off their trousers and hand 'em over. While the chilly victims were waiting in the back of the store, the robbers made off with $800 from the till and $289 from various pockets. They were kind enough not to take the trousers when they left.

1313 Olympic To-day

The hustle and bustle of the produce district is still felt in the 1918 Terminal Market at Central and 7th, and the 1909 City Market at 9th and San Pedro, though the building that housed 1313 Olympic has been replaced by this modern distribution center. And the Hebraic gents who ran wholesale produce in Los Angeles have also been largely replaced.

Perhaps the trouser-snatchers thought they were in the garment district, which is in fact located five blocks west.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Pretty Baby

November 15, 1947
Los Angeles

Mother: when a man comes to the door, tells you your little Arnie is the handsomest tot he's ever seen and suggests that for a mere $2.50 he can snap a swell shot of the little one for entry into the Downtown Business Men's Association's beautiful baby contest, slam that screen door fast. There's no such contest, the guy's a crook, and to be perfectly honest, your kid is... uhm... gee... well, he's just adorable.

This has been a public service announcement from your pals at the 1947project.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Finders Losers

November 14, 1947
Los Angeles

Two years ago, someone snuck into waitress Gertrude Dye's home at 2208 1/2 Marathon Street and stole $2000 in War Bonds and Postal Savings notes out of a dresser drawer. She was able to replace the postal notes, but the War Bonds were a loss.

Until today, when she heard from an LAPD officer conveying a message from his counterparts in Bakersfield, where a gas station attendant had found the missing bonds under the floor mats of a used car he was servicing. The only problem: the bonds are made out to Gertrude and her former husband James. We hope they can split their windfall amicably.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

What Folks Did Before Maytag

November 13, 1947
Los Angeles

17-year-old Ray Luedeman was cleaning rags in a pan of gasoline on the back porch of his home at 1877 W. 38th Street when the automatic gas heater beside him clicked on. Suddenly realizing the danger of the gas igniting, he scooped up the pan, sending gas flying all over the heater and his clothing. He's in Georgia Street Receiving Hospital being treated for serious burns.

Further reading: Never Done, A History of American Housework

1877 West 38th Street, To-day

If Luedeman was so hot to play dry cleaner, he could have used Stoddard’s Solvent, introduced in 1926; considerably less flammable than gasoline. Or some delicious nonflammable perchloroethylene, 1930s darling of the Industry. Tell me what, if anything, has the allure and majesty of an afternoon of dry cleaning?

Where Luedeman ignited:

(…gone are the wooden columnar ionic porch supports, and there's bevel clapboard under that stucco, but you get the picture.)

Dry cleaning? Wash without water, huh? Of course, look where it got that Ed Crane fellow.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

The Case of the Suicide's Bullet

November 12, 1947
Los Angeles

Mrs. R.J. Odman was sleeping peacefully in her bed at 825 N. Wilcox Ave. when Harry Lavine, 41-year-old guest of her upstairs neighbor, actor Matty Fain, shot himself just below the heart. The bullet exited Lavine's back, came through floor and ceiling, and passed through Mrs. Odman's splayed hair before stopping.

She was startled but unharmed; Lavine is in serious condition in the Prison Ward of General Hospital. Not for the threat to Mrs. Odman, though: Lavine, also an actor, was out on $5000 bail on a narcotics charge, but had failed to appear in federal court on Monday. Prior to shooting himself, he left a note absolving Margie Martini, 28, who was arrested with him on the drug charge. Miss Martini awaits her preliminary hearing in the County Jail.

A mini Matty Fain 1947 film festival:
Dead Reckoning, with Humphrey Bogart and Lizbeth Scott (Fain, uncredited, as "Ed")
Down to Earth, with Rita Hayworth (Fain, uncredited, as "Henchman")

825 North Wilcox, To-day

As I drove up Wilcox I was warmed at the thought of seeing the construction inherent in any structure whereby a bullet can pass through a person, and through the floor and through the ceiling below. (Of course, it may have been a firearm of some insane caliber, which made me smile inwardly all the more.)

Quickly pulled from my reverie as I saw Fain & Lavine’s Hollywood hangout had been destroyed as surely as had Mrs. Odman’s belief in a good night’s sleep--

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Mom and kids nab peeping tom

November 10, 1947
Armed with a .22 caliber rifle and righteous indignation, Mrs. Violet Cuddy and her children Donald and Betty captured their neighborhood peeping tom, James Burke Bennett, 27, of 128 S. Chapel Avenue and turned him over to the cops. The courageous Cuddys reside just down the block at 209 S. Chapel. Bennett got popped on a vagrancy charge and sentenced to 90 days in County Jail, plenty of time for Violet to invest in some asbestos curtains for the bedrooms.

The Peeper of Chapel Ave

Nice of Bennett to provide a piece of paraphilia to today’s proceedings…What is it Auden said of the voyeur? Peeping Toms are never praised, like novelists or bird watchers, for their keenness of observation?

Was Jim just a hapless, callow youth, or drooling maniac? Perhaps he was, as was the original Tom, looking for Lady Godiva. He was simply looking for her in the Cuddy’s window. Since gone. I’d put this complex in the mid-50s.

And Bennett’s house, which contained the one neighborhood window into which he did not peer, has been replaced as such:

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Hardly a love match

November 9, 1947

Divorcee Gloria Hendrickson, 23, has known Bob Holstein, 37, for two years. He wasn't much trouble until his own divorce went through last August; ever since, he's been pressing Gloria to be his wife. She made it clear she wasn't interested, but continued to see Bob. It made a break from her theater usherette job and nights at home at 14215 S. Vermont with her parents and 3-year-old son Richard.

Last night his frustrations reached the boiling point while he was driving her home from work after midnight. He pulled over on El Segundo between Vermont and Budlong and again raised the question of an engagement. The lady repeated no way, no how.

Bob grabbed the ribbon tie around her neck and choked her, dragged her out of the car, letting her head connect with the running board. Desperate, Gloria scrambled to get underneath the vehicle and away from her tormentor. Then another couple pulled up to see what the trouble was. Bob made noises about a lover's spat, but Gloria shrieked and ran for help. Her saviors were Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd Brownley of 334 Oxford St., and they brought her to the Vermont Ave. sheriff's substation where she swore out a complaint.

Bob Holstein, still being sought, lives at 1540 146th Street in Hawthorne. So peel an eye for the louse.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

She Died Doing What She Loved

November 8, 1947
El Monte

The Morales family mourns the death of its 103-year-old matriarch Rafaela, who dropped a cigarette onto her clothes while rocking on her porch at 223 E. Slack Road and was consumed, despite the valient efforts of her daughter, Mrs. Pilar Mendoza, 54, who raced over from her house next door on hearing Rafaela's cries.

Slack Rd. To-day

Slack. Yes. A lady just a-sittin’ on her rocker, smoking the day away. Now that’s slack. Slack Road, though, is no more, having become Michael Hunt. Whoever the hell that was. Ohhh…Mike Hunt. I get it. Real mature, El Monte.

A house of Slack...little bench behind some picket railing, the perfect place to smoke and be smoked.

(Actually, that spire in the distance is the 1956 Epiphany Catholic church, at which Michael Hunt was the first pastor. The street was renamed for him in 1985.)

Monday, November 07, 2005

Betty out-Foxed

November 7, 1947

Waitress Betty Fox, 23, currently sharing digs at 1248 S. Boyington Ave., really needs an apartment--she can't get married until she finds a place for she and hubby to canoodle. The grapevine hummed with news of a three-room flat a soldier was giving up as he entered service, so she tracked the new recruit down and asked if his place might still be available.

"Sure thing, toots, and if you gimme 48 bucks that'll cover the first month's rent."

She ponied up in exchange for the key and address, and soon learned that there is no such number.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Sandwich of Mystery

November 6, 1947
Los Angeles

When asked why he had attempted to kidnap Celina Jarmillo, 18, as she was leaving work at 1427 E. Fourth Street, Raymond Adame, also 18, explained: "Last April she made me a sandwich of potatoes, beans and macaroni, and, according to our legends, she bewitched me. I couldn't get out of her spell." A later reports added fish eyes to the sandwich ingredients, and Farmer's Market columnist Fred Beek suggested this might be a good addition to a meatless Tuesday menu.

In any case, Celina's witchery must still have been working, because a radio car drove by just as Raymond tried to make the snatch. He's down at Hollenbeck cooling his heels. Adame usually resides at 206 N. Clarence Street, Jarmillo at 5927 Fifth Ave.

Beware the Peril of Lunchtime

So let’s talk about the sandwich for a moment, that legacy of John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich, famously corrupt and inept Lord of the Royal Navy, and inveterate gambler who needed something quick to eat at the card table. The…you know. There’s just something wrong with this guy. There’s still a godforsaken island chain named after him that neither the Brits nor Argentines wanted in the Falkland War and kept insisting belonged to the other fellow.

And his namesake, well, it’s just evil. Consider our manwich post of 3 October. A battalion commander—guy who probably knows his way around a sword and stuff—guts himself in one of those sandwich-making-gone-horribly-wrong accidents. To recap:

The inside of Cmdr. George A. Tucker:

That pink thing, that’s his stomach. The little purple doodad to its right, that’s a spleen. I could see how one could stab both while making a ham sandwich. Common enough. But to get up under the sternum and get to the heart? That's Montagu’s hand stabbing from the heart of hell, it is.

And now, some witch, using sandwitchery, has bedeviled poor Raymond Adame. The likely final destination of his abduction of the pernicious Celina was to her coven at Wilson Sandwich...

—by “modern equipment” they mean hi-tech new streamlined cauldrons—for only there could they release the spell. Or maybe he was off to stone her, as per Leviticus 20:27.

He attempted to abduct her from here:

The sandwich is a wicked and cursed thing (the words “Ahriman” and “Sandwich” are interchangeable in ancient Persian, btw), and must be banished beyond the walls of the City.

You are in my power.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Nickels for Knuckels

November 5, 1947
Los Angeles

While thieves are known for their light fingers, one of them is sporting especially heavy pockets after cleaning out a safe containing $666.25, $453.25 of it in 5 cent pieces, from the Automatic Beverage Corp. at 8739 Melrose Ave. In case you're keeping count, that's 9065 nickels--and there must be some sweet Buffalos in the bunch!

8739 Melrose, To-day

Durn fools probably spent their 1937D three-legged on a pack of gum.

As is the case with much if not most of West Hollywood, any structure tainted with the workingman's touch has been thoroughly scrubbed and redesigned. Automatic Beverage became a fabric shop in the 60s and then received a full gutting and cosmetic makeover in 1999. The facade is now extra fancy-shmancy, so as to fit in with the regal neighborhood shops, which specialize in fancy, catering as they do to the shmancy.

Look Backward, Dear Reader

Of course, looking backward should be of little difficulty to the peruser of 1947project. Have just added a dozen follow-up posts throughout October—El Monte to Santa Monica to Compton and all points in between—thought your neighborhood would fall through the interstices of history? Think again! Click on “archives” to your right to shine the spotlight on hidden history and forgotten folly. (I mean, at least check out Augusta Mayo on October 16. Mmmm. Mmm-mm-MMM.)

We here at 1947project know that you have many fine news sources to turn to in this great city. We thank you again for your trust in us.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Typically it's the bride who provides the trousseau

November 4, 1947

Newlyweds Beverly Lou, 19, and Alvin Ray Turnmire, 21, were in custody today after Alvin got popped leaving a cafe at Screenland and Magnolia. Alvin said he was out looking for his lost dog, but officers found Beverly Lou napping a few blocks away in the family car, with Mike the dog keeping watch. In the glovebox, a .45.

A search of Beverly Lou's parents' house at 4232 Goodland Ave., Studio City, where the youngsters had been living since their marriage two months ago, revealed the spoils of half a dozen burglaries stashed in the garage: pretty much everything a couple of kids would need to start life in their own apartment.

Alvin, a plasterer and ex-Marine, confessed that he had stolen household goods from furniture stores, cafes and a model home, but insisted Beverly Lou believed he'd bought the items. Most of the loot was brought home by car, but for the fridge, enterprising Alvin used a trailer.

Further reading:

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Tragedy on Elm Avenue

November 3, 1947
Long Beach

Fred and Mattie Friel were out at dinner in Long Beach on Sunday night when Mattie had a heart attack. She was rushed home to 319 Elm Ave., where her doctor, F.W. Kuhlmann prescribed bed rest. He left Fred watching over his wife.

When Dr. Kuhlmann went to check in on Mattie yesterday, there was no answer at the house. Concerned, he walked in and found Fred dead from a heart attack in the living room. Mattie was unconscious in bed. Taken to Community Hospital, her condition is listed as critical.

Mattie Friel is 58, her husband was 62.

Visit historic Long Beach in vintage postcards:

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Next time, we're playing at Don's place

November 2, 1947
Los Angeles

There were ten unhappy poker players at 711 E. 51st Street this evening, after a game at William W. Baker's house was broken up by three gunmen posing as cops who lined the players against a wall and relieved them of about $2000.

Further reading:

711 East 51st, To-day

I hope Bill Baker and pals appreciate the effort it took for their robbers to dress like police officers. Y’know, people just don’t put that sort of thought into their robbery outfits anymore, and we at 47p applaud these lucre-lifting louts for respecting their prey enough to put on a good show. (As Larry has pointed out in a previous post, you didn’t need a black-and-white to pull off convincing cop masquerade.) Perhaps, post Hallowe’en, these gents still had a few days’ rental on the outfits and figured they’d put ‘em to good use…besides, 2g’s in 47, adjusted via the consumer price index, would equal $16,484 today…not bad for a night’s work.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Is your telephone box burning...?

November 1, 1947
Pico Rivera

A freak accident left telephone boxes flaming inside nine homes and one service station after a truck that was being towed broke loose and hit a high tension tower, which fell, breaking a telephone cable. The fires, all in the vicinity of Rosemead and Washington Blvds., were quickly extinguished by two county fire engine companies.

Further reading: