Dear Los Angeles

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Dear Los Angeles Page 12

by Dear Los Angeles- The City in Diaries


  SUSAN SONTAG

  APRIL 9

  1945

  I never found the tar-pits in Los Angeles, but I had a dish of Spam with raisin sauce at the Thrifty Drug Store.

  JOHN CHEEVER

  1972

  Please let’s get together for a drink when we are both on the same side of the Los Angeles River.

  NORMAN CORWIN, to Rod Serling

  1982

  David [Hockney] was in a great state of excitement. He has invented a way of juxtaposing multiple Polaroid photographs as part of a subject (which may be a portrait, still life or landscape) so that they produce an effect of many superimposed images of the subject taken from different angles, as with cubism. The remarkable achievement is that the spectator seeing a face which has perhaps three noses and four eyes nevertheless makes a sum in his head of the multiple images and sees a single face correcting the distortion. That D. can produce such unity out of multiple images is due to his unerring eye, which one can judge from seeing him at work making one of these compositions.

  He tells me that he has put into photography the dimension of passing through time which it lacks. He attaches importance to the fact that it takes up to three hours for him to make one of these pictures. The three hours through minute transitions in the lighting as well as the observation of things from different angles go into the picture, as they would with a drawing that took the same amount of time….

  People kept wandering in and out of the apartment the whole time I was there. David seemed utterly indifferent to them, neutral perhaps, welcoming them as spectators of his new photographs, and listeners to his new spiel about them. Usually David and I got up before anyone else, and David would say mildly: “You would think that someone would have noticed there is no bread and no milk in the house” and I would accompany him to the store.

  STEPHEN SPENDER

  APRIL 10

  1950

  I think I will write down my memories of Dylan Thomas now….I’d better record them here, before they get too vague….

  As we drove out to Santa Monica, Dylan gradually heightened the steam pressure of his indignation against the English department of UCLA. He also kept pressing me to stop for a drink. This I evaded, because I was afraid he was going to get so high that he wouldn’t be able to give his reading….

  Lunch was tense. Dylan had had some drinks at my house, and now accepted more—unwillingly as they were offered. The nice clean youngish-oldish blank-faced anxious English teachers sat around, waiting for the volcano to erupt….They had conjured up this dangerous little creature, excited by the dangerousness in his poems, and now that they had him there in the flesh, he terrified and shocked them….It’s the attitude of the small boy who would love (he thinks) to have live roaring tigers leap into the room out of his picture books, but who doesn’t want to be afraid of them if they appear.

  I was nervous too, of course. I felt sure that Dylan would disgrace himself at the reading. But I was entirely wrong. When Dylan got on the platform, no one could have told that he wasn’t sober. He gave a masterly performance, not only of his own work, but of Hardy and many others. (I wish I had the program.) The marvellous beauty of his voice in the more serious poems can be heard on records, but I do wish I also had records of his comic reading. He was a brilliant comedian and mimic. The audience loved him—the students, that is.

  CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD

  1969

  This afternoon Gary Bell and I went to Pershing Square (in Los Angeles) to listen to some of the old ladies in sneakers tell us to be prepared to meet our maker. I confess I enjoy rapping with them and usually wind up assured that eternal salvation is beyond my reach.

  Later on we came across a group that was into the Indian thing and they were chanting Hari Krishna Rama Rama, etc., and I got to talking to one of them, who said their religion simply was to reaffirm love of God regardless of the particular religion and I thought that was fair enough and we hung around enjoying the chanting and sitar music.

  Then a priest, probably about fifty-five years old, happened by and got into conversation with one of the group. When he left I asked what it was about. “He said this was a religion that didn’t belong in this country,” the young man said. “He said we already had enough religions in this country and that we should go back to India or wherever it was we came from.”

  Going over the hitters is something you do before each series, and before we went against the mighty Angels, Sal Maglie had a great hint for one of their weaker hitters, Vic Davalillo. “Knock him down, then put the next three pitches knee-high on the outside corner, boom, boom, boom, and you’ve got him.”

  Everybody laughed. If you could throw three pitches, boom, boom, boom, knee-high on the outside corner, you wouldn’t have to knock anybody down. It’s rather like telling somebody if he’d just slam home those ninety-foot putts he’d win the tournament easily.

  JIM BOUTON

  APRIL 11

  1939

  I hope you like the watch; if not, we’ll exchange it. In the meantime, please use it to help me count the minutes.

  I adore you forever, darling.

  P.S. Kiss the children for me, if you’ve had mumps. I love you.

  OGDEN NASH

  1946

  Spent the morning at the studio in a whirl of wild activity. Billy and I lunched with Leland at Lucey’s and talked the chances of a percentage deal. We then came to Billy’s and tried to write a simple connective scene and Billy paced up and down moaning that he was unhappy about it and we didn’t get far. His desire to have every syllable a laugh has become, to me, pathological and boring.

  CHARLES BRACKETT

  APRIL 12

  1867

  Rained all last night and until noon. Cleared up splendidly in p.m. but was quite cool. See nothing of Jim yet in town. Must settle matters soon for cash is getting most derned low. By my foolishness in getting a book to read I am now one bit short of enough to pay for present week’s board, so next week I shall again be literally penniless.

  WILLIAM HENRY JACKSON

  1907

  Cousin Lem Graves walked into the office today—he has not been well and he and Cousin Jennie are going to San Diego to rest. They are old people and find Los Angeles far too disturbing….Ordered a new tailored-gown today—a white French worsted with invisible old-blue line in it. It will be charming and wholly impracticable for me, a country resident. But I am very tired of being practical….I ought to have ordered a dark suit—something suitable for Sunday, Monday and all the year around! But I didn’t!

  Mrs. Foster’s luncheon at the California Club yesterday and the matinee-party afterward was a perfectly arranged affair—quite ideal….Did not think much of the performance of “Candida.”

  OLIVE PERCIVAL

  1963

  Dear diary: Mama woke me up this morning to tell me to wash my hair….How can I just sit and resign my body to such a life.

  OCTAVIA E. BUTLER

  1966

  Volume 1 of the Diary is published!

  …[The Los Angeles Times book critic] Robert Kirsch confirmed my belief that if one goes deeply enough into the personal, one transcends it and reaches beyond the personal.

  At the end of this Diary I feel I have accomplished what I hoped to accomplish: to reveal how personal errors influence the whole of history and that our real objective is to create a human being who will not go to war.

  ANAÏS NIN

  APRIL 13

  1876

  A general flare up in the office. Col. Peel, who was acting editor in the absence of Bassett, had a clash with the management and was relieved. The bone of contention was the newly appointed Board of Public Works and its support by the paper.

  Hancock Johnson, the President of the company, then came to me and gave the editorial charge o
f the paper into my hands. I employed Hawley as city editor and went into the job with all the energy I could muster but not without some misgivings. This is my first experiment at real editorial work and the opportunity has been thrust upon me almost without a moment’s notice.

  WILLIAM ANDREW SPALDING

  1982

  HOW I NEVER SAW THE HOLLYWOOD LIBRARY

  The Hollywood Library burned down this morning. I was in the neighborhood one evening—about three weeks ago. I was circling the building by chance, wondering what this imposing structure represented. Why was it here? Finally, I came around to the front and read the letters engraved into the stone: “Los Angeles Public Library Hollywood Branch.” Oh! The Hollywood Library—it was a tempting 30’s classic revival building. I made a mental note to myself to return to the library by day. I was sure the inside would contain details undreamt of to delight my senses.

  It burned down this morning.

  Not a single book in its collection was saved.

  AARON PALEY

  APRIL 14

  1882

  I worked at the Orphans’ Home, both yesterday and today. Mamie is giving a concert for the home tomorrow night, and she is training the orphans to sing. Velma also helps to rehearse them. General William T. Sherman arrived this morning to attend the reunion of the Grand Army of the Republic. This evening Mamie and I called upon General Sherman and his daughter, and we met General Poe and Adjutant General Morrill or Morrow. We had a very delightful evening, listening to General Sherman’s reminiscences, especially about his famous “March to the Sea.” The conversation was interrupted only once, by the arrival of a group of Grand Army men, who marched up to the house and demanded that he come out and speak to them; so he went to the balcony and delivered a short address.

  L. VERNON BRIGGS

  1934

  I now happen to live in both towns, back and forth, and to like certain things in both of them….

  The New Yorker transplanted to Los Angeles may in a year or so learn to like the place….He can learn to stay home from banquets where they may discuss “our beloved California.” And he will come to enjoy living outdoors, and stepping out into a garden instead of into an elevator.

  DON HEROLD

  1965

  This is to record progress, physical mental and psionic toward my chosen goal. This is my first entry.

  OCTAVIA E. BUTLER

  APRIL 15

  1867

  Went down to corral about 7. Sam came after a while & we made preparations to brand some mules he had sold. Lassoed them quickly, & soon had ’em branded. Were wild devils & gave me a great lurch over the ground, “busting” my breeches & skinning my knees.

  WILLIAM HENRY JACKSON

  APRIL 16

  1945

  Spoke this evening on station KFI, debating the Japanese question….Later received a threatening phone call from a man who gave his name as A. B. Williams, 4975 Wilshire Blvd. Am noting this for the record.

  CAREY MCWILLIAMS

  1945

  My first act was to clean the clutter out of the big office and restore it to a state of purity and emptiness reminiscent of the days of [producer] Arthur Hornblow. I don’t know whether it was doing so that made me miss the wild young Wilder excessively all day.

  CHARLES BRACKETT

  1972

  Thank you for your marvellous letter about spring in Mississippi—it’s spring in California, too, and to the delight of the hummingbirds the bottlebrush in our garden is exploding in red blossoms, and yes, you can see the spring on its way when you look out over the sea, literally on its way, with schools of whales and flights of scoters and Bonaparte gulls and other birds all heading north….

  My book such as it is is moving along towards the end of the first draft. I can’t vouch for its quality but am simply grateful that I was able to get it written—rewriting is less impossible. Between drafts we’ll head north with the Bonaparte gulls, for a week or two.

  ROSS MACDONALD, to Eudora Welty

  APRIL 17

  1848

  I have neglected to note down many occurrences of late and this is the first time I have opened my journal for many days—there is however but little stirring. [Kit] Carson is making preperations to leave this country for the United States and we are all grumbling at our hard fate in not being permitted to go with him—We have parades every day, duty is harder now than ever—the battalion paraded in white pants this morning in the publick square and looked well

  LIEUTENANT JOHN MCHENRY HOLLINGSWORTH

  1928

  One fine day last week Henry, Brett, and I packed cameras, paints, lunch, and went to Santa Monica for work and outing. I had grown tired of “still-life,” of confinement,—I wanted air and soil. Santa Monica was chosen because of a fine group of sycamore trees

  I have printed another of the sycamore tree which I like without question. It is life at first hand….

  Perhaps the most fun I have had lately has been in a swimming hole discovered by Cole and Neil. It was reminiscent of Huckleberry Finn, with bonfires, rafts and naked boys. Fed by fresh river water this hole gouged out by steam shovel is deep enough for diving, and much larger than the local swimming tanks. It is hidden from public gaze so no spinster can be horrified by naked boys and men.

  EDWARD WESTON

  APRIL 18

  1847

  Singing and remarks by Pres. St. John on the evils arising in the Battalion, to wit: drunkenness, swearing and intercourse with the squaws &c.

  HENRY STANDAGE

  1949

  Today the temperature is about forty-two, the sky is the color of mud, and the walls drip. During the ten days when we were scouting around, we found the sun bright and the sea inviting. We couldn’t accept the invitation. We aren’t even invited today.

  Nothing short of a seal would enter the Pacific today.

  ROBERT PENN WARREN, to his editor

  1950

  I am without the one thing in life that matters to me, which happens to be a small unhappy blonde in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire. Went to Hollywood, dined with Charlie Chaplin, saw Ivan Moffat, stayed with Christopher Isherwood, was ravingly miserable for you my true, my dear, my one, my precious love.

  I LOVE YOU XXX

  DYLAN THOMAS, to his wife

  1955

  How far away that night at Sanary seems—the shooting stars and then your wife’s accident! A long time during which two individuals grow almost into one organism, whose separation leaves the survivor feeling strangely amputated.

  ALDOUS HUXLEY, to Lion Feuchtwanger

  1962

  The remarkable thing is that, despite the explosion of gracious living that has erupted all over the American landscape on the shores of the illimitable river of gold that irrigates all our other-directed life—nothing has changed south of the Tehachapi. It is still all one Blue Plate Special.

  KENNETH REXROTH

  APRIL 19

  1923

  A Mr. Allen, Madame Alberti’s brother, took me in his car and gave me a ride all about Hollywood, passing in ranks hundreds of the gay little stucco bungalows in the Spanish-Mexican, Italian-Swiss, and many other styles, a conglomeration that cannot be equaled anywhere else on earth I am quite sure. Someone has laid awake nights to think up these queer facades, porches, roofs, and towers. Some were cheery but many were merely curious or petty. Some elaborate places were English or partly Italian with formal gardens and stately trees.

  I have never seen so many buildings going up all at one time. There are thousands in process in every direction I looked.

  We rode back into the hills where they put their cars into their attics—literally—and have their stump of a house on the edge of the cliffs. Some of it was quite like Italy. A mad era of house building is on. How long it will continue is a que
stion but I see no reason why it should not continue. The whole Middle West wants to come here. It is the only alternative to New York.

  HAMLIN GARLAND

  APRIL 20

  1882

  We were indeed sorry to leave such good friends, and the delightful hospitality of Los Angeles. Soon after our train passed Walters, a station on the Southern Pacific Railroad, a terrific sandstorm struck us; double windows and tightly closed doors failed to keep out the dust.

  L. VERNON BRIGGS

  1901

  In the morning went to Los Angeles in the electric car….we went to [the] O’Melveny office in the Baker Block and we tried to arrange the business of lands in Sta Monica and San Vicente. Mr. Jones left the papers for O’Melveny to review them. O’Melveny said he had paid Arcadia’s taxes in the amount of $14,000. Jesus Bildaria who died suddenly two days ago was buried. Heard also that Luis Forbes son of Carlos died last night.

 

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