Tag Archives: Beverly Hills

You Know those Millions of Pages of Frenzied-Zillionaire-Elite-Police-Industrial-Complex-Pearl-Clutching-Hysterical-Media-Manipulation over Prop 47? Watch Carol Schatz Distill it all into 15-ish Short, Cynical Words

Carol Schatz in 2009 looking, as cynics habitually have done throughout the ages, down to the gutter rather than up to the stars.
Carol Schatz in 2009 looking, as cynics habitually have done throughout the ages, down to the gutter rather than up to the stars.
Sixty percent of comatose Californians and virtually one hundred percent of the non-comatose are aware that last year’s Proposition 47 is causing massive freakouts amongst California’s cops, the zillionaire elite who rely on those cops to stave off the slavering locustoid hordes of marauding homeless people who inhabit their fevered imaginations, and the zillionaire elite’s hired flunkies, among whom are to be found the staffs of the Business Improvement Districts of Los Angeles. If you haven’t heard about this kerfluffle, the Los Angeles Times has helpfully run about nine zillion op-eds covering every sane point of view on the issue and most of the more popular less-than-sane ones. The gist of it is that in November 2014, about 20 minutes after the election results were in, the cops of California pitched a toys-out-of-pram tantrum and essentially stopped arresting anyone for anything and everyone, including all BID-associated people everywhere, started blaming the proposition for every crime committed anywhere in the state along with petty thefts and suspicious fires, broken windows, pissed-in gutters, aggressive panhandling, open bottles of cheap vodka, and probably the disappearance of freaking Amelia Earhart.
Amelia Earhart, mere moments before Proposition 47 reached back in time, grabbed her right out of her airplane, and made her vanish into thin air, never to be seen again, just like it's doing to our quality of life right here in sunny Los Angeles.  Curse you, bleeding-hearted liberals!
Amelia Earhart, mere moments before Proposition 47 reached back in time, grabbed her right out of her airplane, and made her vanish into thin air, never to be seen again, just like it’s doing to our quality of life right here in sunny Los Angeles. Curse you, bleeding-hearted liberals!

We haven’t gone out of our way to report to any great extent on this BIDiabolical whining because there’s just so much of it, it’s so freaking repetitive, and, anyway, who has the time? However, our faithful correspondent assures us that nary an HPOA Joint Security Committee meeting he’s attended in 2015 has gone by without someone mentioning it, and the same goes for other HPOA/CHC meetings. Kerry Morrison even once admitted on camera that she’d voted for it but now she regretted it. In any case, Carol Schatz has unexpectedly provided us with such a distilled, such a quintessential, such a blatantly, screechingly, cynical example of the genre that we finally felt moved to address the subject. Everything we’re quoting here comes from this email chain, which is one of the many recently obtained for us via the California Public Records Act. And the details, as they will do, follow after the break.
Continue reading You Know those Millions of Pages of Frenzied-Zillionaire-Elite-Police-Industrial-Complex-Pearl-Clutching-Hysterical-Media-Manipulation over Prop 47? Watch Carol Schatz Distill it all into 15-ish Short, Cynical Words

The School on 103rd Street

The School on 103rd Street by Roland S. Jefferson is a fine political conspiracy novel as well as a stunning roman des riverains about early 1970s Los Angeles
The School on 103rd Street by Roland S. Jefferson is a fine political conspiracy novel as well as a stunning roman des riverains1 planted firmly in early 1970s Black Los Angeles
Today’s book is The School on 103rd Street, by Los Angeles author and psychiatrist Roland S. Jefferson. It seems reasonable to review it here for two reasons. First because it so vividly evokes the peculiar time and place of early 1970s Los Angeles, a spatiotemporal locality that’s dear to my heart and second because its subject matter, racial politics in Los Angeles (including a vast conspiracy the nature of which I can’t really reveal without spoiling the plot, which is something I’m not willing to do) aligns closely with the focus of this blog.

I’ll move on to the serious matters below, but first, check this description of protagonists Elwin Carter and Sable having an evening out in 1973:

The Cyrano building at 13578 Mindanao Way under construction in 1967.
They had dinner at Cyrano’s in Marina Del Rey and then went to the Name of the Game on Century Boulevard for some dancing. At midnight they went down to the Lighthouse to hear Gabor Zabo, and, on the way home, they dropped by Shelly’s Mann Hole and caught the last set by Gerald Wilson. Carter had taken the Ferrari, and, although Sable offered no resistance, she didn’t encourage him. From Shelly’s they headed down Highland toward Wilshire…3

Now, I don’t just read novels for Los Angeles geography porn, but I’m always happy to find it, especially when it has restaurants! Cyrano was a “fine dining” or “continental” sort of place, opened early on in Marina Del Rey. Given the character of the Marina in 1973, at the time Elwin and Sable had dinner there the joint was probably full of cocaine, swinging-in-the-worst-sense, disgusting 1970s facial hair, and gelatinous sleaze coating every surface.

Advertisement from the Los Angeles Times, December 14, 1969, announcing the grand opening of Cyrano.
Advertisement from the Los Angeles Times, December 14, 1969, announcing the grand opening of Cyrano.

The Name of the Game was a dance place in Inglewood at Century and Crenshaw. Here’s how the Los Angeles Sentinel described it on September 2, 1971:

It’s called The Name of The Game, and to many, many persons it’s the name of the place they find attractive and a lively cynosure for a truly good evening of pleasure. Located at 3000 W. Century boulevard, it has music by Dave Holden, and dancing space for frisky feet or those who just love to move and groove. There’s no cover charge, either. The Name of the Game also affords daily luncheon specials, and daily half-price cocktails. So what could be better for the jaded tastes than a visit to The Name of the Game?
4

Unfortunately I can’t find a picture of the place. Note also that there was a sensational killing there in 1973. I don’t have space to go into it, but it was well covered in the Sentinel, starting here.11

Next they head off to the Lighthouse, a famous and still-active jazz club in Hermosa Beach which I’d discuss more if I gave even a fraction of a shit about either jazz or Hermosa Beach. Finally, “on the way home,” they head to Shelley’s Manne Hole which, coincidentally, played an important role in my last recommendation, so I won’t belabor it here. However, these two live in Baldwin Hills, meaning that the Manne Hole, at 1608 N. Cahuenga Blvd., is in no sense but the sense that this night should never end on the way home from Hermosa Beach. Ah, youth!

Now, despite my breathless temporogeographical musings, this novel is much more than a travelogue. It’s an immensely important document about the state of racial politics in Los Angeles eight years after the Watts Rebellion, with more than a little relevance for the present day (as well as being a bitchin’ thriller). Read on for details!
Continue reading The School on 103rd Street

Emails between Hollywood Neighborhood Prosecutor and BID Now Available

Another attorney from California that we'd have all been better off without, singing the blues in Beverly Hills in 1962
Another attorney from California that we’d have all been better off without, singing the blues in Beverly Hills in 1962
The emails are available here. There’s a lot of chaff, as usual, but a lot of tasty morsels as well. My colleagues will certainly be giving this material the fine-toothed comb treatment in the future, but I thought it’d be nice to announce the availability of the documents to satisfy your hunger and thirst for the truth which, as is well-known, shall set you free.

Picture of famed future president and California attorney is, according to Wikimedia, in the public domain. Take that, Helen Gahagan Douglas!