Dear Los Angeles

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by Dear Los Angeles- The City in Diaries


  A Methodist preacher and family have removed here within the last month or two who are trying to civilize the place. His wife has a school, and is liked very much; and he preaches every Sunday. I have never heard him; I believe, he is not considered a very good preacher, but is liked as a man. They also have Sunday School every Sunday.

  Americans are beginning to settle here very fast now….

  I have just been out visiting. Mr. Hayes and I went to Mr. Wilson’s for a walk. Mrs. W. would make us stay to tea. She had some of the nicest biscuit I ever ate, they are made with a patent yeast. I shall not be satisfied until I have some of it. It is a light powder which is sprinkled through the flour and mixed with water. Mr. Hayes has now gone down town on some business. I feel very lonely when he is gone, although he talks but little when he is here. He reads almost constantly and when he is not reading he is in the garden pulling up weeds or transplanting flowers. We will have a great variety of flowers this summer, most of them wild flowers.

  EMILY HAYES

  1858

  The men seem to spend their time on horseback, charging around as if they were on business of the greatest importance. They are lazy & indolent, do not so much as raise vegetables or fruit but lounge around half starved, living on poor beef….

  From my experience on the road, the settlers are more to be dreaded than the roving banditti. Many years ago a large portion of the valleys have been cultivated which are now not cultivated owing to the scarcity of water for irrigation. It seems that the heavens have been shut up against this people & country & the rain withheld, the earth parched & the streams dried up—caused no doubt from the wickedness of the people.

  JAMES GILLESPIE HAMILTON

  1906

  I went down to the wholesale district, to Lazarus & Milgan, to get an old historical pamphlet, “Historical Sketch of Los Angeles County,” 1876 (known as Warner’s). Got six copies, fifteen cents each. Someday this will be valuable Californiana.

  OLIVE PERCIVAL

  1964

  Marineland is built on a spare clifftop, a splendidly Roman place a lovely circus tossed to the masses. Tiberius and Nero would have approved of the idea; and made it more “interesting” by substituting sharks for dolphins, and living slaves for dead herrings….

  I bought Stephen a baby turtle in Farmer’s Market the day before. He insists on carrying it around everywhere with him in a small paper bag. It irritates me that Jud and Suzanne don’t forbid it. But they let Stephen do as he likes. If a child does something wrong here the parents keep quiet and send him to the analyst to be “repaired.” “Correcting children is a skilled job—they send the children to the man skilled at the job.” Suzanne said this approvingly of Californians the other day; I don’t absolutely disagree. But it’s an easy get-out for parents.

  JOHN FOWLES

  1987

  Yesterday got a ride down to Venice Beach with Barbara (and Emily and Sarah) and Barbara locked the keys in the car. Sarah was down on the beach with her boyfriend and Emily and I were walking down by the shops. And who’s filming? Colors with Dennis Hopper directing, starring Sean Penn and Robert Duvall, the script that I read and the film Justin might get his SAG card from. I hung out, talked to some people, and to get a better view was an extra. Found out from the real extras that they’d shoot again the following day. We all thought that we’d wrap early so Dennis Hopper could make it to the Academy Awards, but they just finished the scene without him.

  So it’s today and I come down again and I find out they’re filming inside, all done with exteriors for the day, and I walk by Dennis Hopper….he was talking to someone, but I think he watched me walk past, because as I’m coming back past him he kind of looks at me again (red glowing hair can be kind of distracting, I suppose) and I walked up….I said I was sorry about last night but he deserved the nomination for the other movie anyway….I said I thought he was really cool and I just wanted to tell him that. He thanked me and I walked away.

  So I sounded like an idiot. But what do you say to someone that you know of and would like to know?…I suppose it’s best just to be honest and say what you’re thinking.

  CAROLYN KELLOGG

  APRIL 1

  1883

  Fancy a village of 150 souls—living in houses they have built, on lands they & their ancestors have tilled for 100 years—peach orchards, apricot orchards, wheat fields irrigating ditches—fancy such a community as that, actually being obliged to “remove,”—on account of never having had a title to the land,—the tract in which their village lies having been patented without their knowing it;—I believe they really will have to go—& the U. S. Govt. has little better than desert left to offer them.

  My regards to Mrs. Aldrich. I shall bring her an Indian basket.

  Yours ever truly

  HELEN HUNT JACKSON, to an editor

  1940

  April 1: Los Angeles Evening News and Daily News merge to constitute The News, a 24-hour newspaper.

  The WPA Guide to Los Angeles

  APRIL 2

  1858

  Commenced raining about 2 o’clock had to stop shearing on account of the sheep being so wet.

  AUGUSTUS SIMON BIXBY

  1957

  We finished work with a final dawn shot, of Orson’s death, in an overturned chair on a dump heap, and then had a celebrant drink or two in the trailer. Orson and I took along the last magnum of champagne and found a place still open to give us bacon and eggs to go with it. A hell of a picture to work on…I can’t believe it won’t be fine. It was wonderful to loaf tonight, all the same. We had steak and saw Orson’s LADY FROM SHANGHAI on TV. It’s good, but not as good as ours, I think.

  CHARLTON HESTON

  1970

  I did nothing all day except stare at the ocean and occasionally memorize some irregular Spanish verbs. I am well over half way through the Grammar at the moment and, given a little peace in LA I will have practically finished it by the time we return. I will then go through it again fast and translate the editorials from the most reputable Mexico City papers every day, in the meantime finding some intelligent bilingual Spaniard to make conversation with for an hour a day….

  Another worry is that I have temporarily lost all sexual urge which is very frustrating for E. Presumably the terrific change in my body as a result of total abstinence for (now approaching) three weeks, after thirty years of steady and sometimes unsteady drinking is taking its time to reassert itself. When it does come back it will be a vast explosion. If it does come back which it had better had.

  RICHARD BURTON

  APRIL 3

  1943

  You must know how to beat fear. If you cannot feel it, you are a moron, an idiot. The brave man is not he who does not know fear; the brave man is he who says to himself, “I am afraid. I will decide quickly what to do, and then I will do it.”

  WILLIAM FAULKNER, to his nephew

  1966

  Routine—got up just before 9:30 to watch Superman and Bulwinkle. Forget to mention that in yesterday—cut the lawn. Today bathed, styled hair, got all ready to go to afro club. Club mostly boys. Nice, but while I could follow them easily, I was a damn weak voiced opposition. I appologized [sic] too much for calling Costa Rican, African. Made me look prej.

  OCTAVIA E. BUTLER

  APRIL 4

  1901

  My house is charming. To tourists it is always pointed out as the “Fremont House” and often Kodacked.

  JESSIE BENTON FRÉMONT

  1963

  Dear diary: “You open this door with the key of imagination” Quoted from Rod Serling’s T.L.Z. I’m living in a sort of twilight zone….

  I cried today in spanish after standing infront of the class attempting to give a lectura summary. It was such a stupid human thing to do….I don’t know what to do about my personality (a fear of peo
ple and worms) I can’t talk to people the way I want to. They nearly all see a difference in me. They talk to each other, then they talk to me. What’s wrong?!! Also, is mother hiding? If so, why? I’m breaking through slowly.

  OCTAVIA E. BUTLER

  1968

  Just before six, I heard that King has died. Oh fuck them all. How blood-horny this’ll make the killers on both sides.

  CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD

  APRIL 5

  1954

  I’ve been reading in columns that there is ill feeling between you boys [Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin] and that there’s even a likelihood that you might go your separate ways. I hope this isn’t true for you are awfully good together, and show business needs you. I don’t mean to imply that either of you couldn’t make a living on his own. I am sure you could. But you do complement each other and that’s one of the reasons you click so successfully.

  I am sure you have had disagreements and arguments, just as all teams, trios and quartets have had since the beginning of the theater. In the heat of working together there’s inevitably a nervous tension and frequently it’s during these moments that two high-strung temperaments will flare up and slash at each other. There may be nothing to the rumors of your separation. However, if there is any ill feeling or bitterness between you, it will eventually affect your work. If that feeling does exist, sit down calmly together, alone—when I say alone, I mean no agents, no family, no one but you two—sit down alone, and talk it out.

  GROUCHO MARX

  1960

  We are in Los Angeles where we found a charming house in a blooming canyon full of good butterflies. We live very quietly. My main occupation is a screenplay I am making, but I am also occupied in reading the proofs of my ONEGIN, the proofs of my SONG OF IGOR, and Dmitri’s translation of my DAR [The Gift].

  The screenplay [of Lolita] will keep me busy till August or September when we shall sail again for Europe. I feel happy and relaxed in lovely and serene Los Angeles, and we both wish Elena and you could visit us here.

  VLADIMIR NABOKOV, to Edmund Wilson

  1970

  In building, it seems, we must look back to the dear Jews and the rare Latins to learn how to live.

  O Children of Israel, come out of Fairfax and old Boyle Heights. Send us your architectural rabbis to lead us from the wilderness of the blacktop and oil drips and gasoline fumes. Open our eyes so we may see. Sit us down so we may rest. Open our mouths so we may talk and eat….

  O small towns of Mexico, send us your mariachis to strum at the centers of our plazas to bring the people back, the girls wandering this way, the boys ambling that, the warm rivers running softly over the wide mosaic walks.

  Dear Moses, sweet Virgin of Guadalupe, teach us Gentile Protestants how once more to spend an evening that is neither far-traveling and senseless, nor violent, nor sick, nor hidden away from the world in colored but colorless TV. Inhabitants, inheritors of Tel Aviv and Guadalajara, hear me now. The hour grows late. Help, o help. Give us back to ourselves. For what finer gift is there in all the world?

  RAY BRADBURY

  1982

  And so my L.A. adventure begins.

  I looked at an apartment in Mid-Wilshire—Serrano—I like the area. It’s urban. I spent the whole day on the buses and walking around. Bringing all the energy and excitement of San Francisco to this crazy and dispersed city. Hollywood, Fairfax, Wilshire, Downtown, Ventura Blvd. All on the bus. It’s all accessible. Sometimes it’s a bit frustrating. But it’s because one is spoiled by the automobile in this town….

  I just bounced around town. I went to Wilshire between Normandie and Western on Lorrain’s suggestion. I was just walking the neighborhood when I saw a good looking 20s apartment building. A black man, young—walked out and I asked him if there were vacancies. He said there always were—and that it was a cool place to live.

  AARON PALEY

  APRIL 6

  1896

  The first thing I did in the morning was to walk out of the veranda-roof and pick my hands full of La Marque rose-buds, all covered with dew. (Oh! I can never forget the beauty of that moment!) We enjoyed the rose-buds as a centerpiece, heaping them upon the oranges.

  OLIVE PERCIVAL

  1957

  The geographical constriction of L.A. We all live far away from each other and I do not drive. Taxis are inordinately expensive. It takes an afternoon to get to Hollywood to buy paper and a typewriter ribbon.

  ANAÏS NIN

  1970

  I went this morning for a final fitting for my dinner jacket for the Oscars tomorrow night. There is apparently an outside chance I might win but I give it no mind or else I shall become morose if I’m a loser. I have now gone over 3 weeks without a drink and never give it a thought, though win or lose tomorrow night it’s going to be another test of my will-power, because certainly everybody else will be intoxicated. It’s one of those nights. E found her speech for the presentation of the Best Picture Award too sententious and asked if she could re-write it herself, which she did last night so that they can put it onto the idiot boards.

  RICHARD BURTON

  APRIL 7

  1847

  A petition was got up in the Battalion, petitioning the officers of the Battalion or Commanders of Cos. for our discharge from the service of the U.S. believing the war to be at an end and our services no longer needed.

  HENRY STANDAGE

  1930

  Galka repelled me at the very start of our acquaintance but now I find myself wishing she would drop in once more before leaving. She is a dynamo of energy. She would wear me out in a few days—but insight of unusual clarity, and an ability to express herself in words, brilliantly, forcefully, to hit the nail cleanly….She is an ideal “go-between” for the artist and his public.

  EDWARD WESTON, on Galka Scheyer

  1968

  Such a beautiful day, though windy and a bit misty. Out on the bay, the flash of the water-skiers is like an appeal to get on with it, to participate, to live in the moment, to make the scene, to be where the action is. Here I am, sitting up on the balcony with the typewriter plugged in, determined to witness, to record, rather than to run down to the beach and wander around looking for—what? Not sex. This isn’t senile silliness even. I was just the same when I was young. The Beach and the Balcony—that’s the story of my life.

  CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD

  APRIL 8

  1918

  Mother went to Appomattox Day picnic in Sycamore Grove. A divine, heavenly, Eden-perfect day. I could not get home before two but then I gardened hard until dark. O, how I love to garden—to forget the uglinesses and disappointments of everyday life!

  Saturday Morning, to inaugurate the Third Liberty Loan, bells rang at 6 in the morning and airmen dropped bombs and literature! We did not know the programme and Mother thought it meant a victory but I guessed the real reason (for a wonder) and hastily dressing in the dim light, it was easy to fancy it a German raid—to see how impossible it would be to escape with more than mere life and a night-dress! It made me plan to have my most precious things in a bag, by my bed. But already I’m seeing what a bother that would be.

  OLIVE PERCIVAL

  1925

  The studios pay big salaries to their girls but you certainly earn it. It’s no simple matter working for people who are as nervous and temperamental as movie people are….

  I met Mr. W. R. Hearst. I didn’t know him by sight and had quite a novel introduction. I came rushing through the door with much speed and he was coming out from an inner door and we collided. If he had been about 4 feet shorter than he is, I might have knocked him over….Mr. Hearst is quite tall, but he has such a small voice that you are quite surprised when he opens his mouth….

  Vilma Banky has arrived and I like her very much. With good management she ought to be a succ
ess. She can’t speak English so most of her conversation is by gestures and a word or two here and there.

  I’m so happy to be here at the studio that I just wish that all my friends were here too. I like the atmosphere and the hustle and bustle of this life. Everybody but my boss is so nice and friendly—so different from a regular business office. No one but the art director, Mr. Anton Grot, has gotten too friendly yet. Mr. Grot tried once to kiss me but my guess is that he won’t try that again.

  VALERIA BELLETTI

  1949

  This afternoon I heard a lecture on “The function of art and the artist” by Anais Nin: she is very startling—pixie-like, other-worldly—small, finely built, dark hair, and much make-up which made her look very pale—large, questioning eyes—a marked accent which I could not label—her speech is over-precise—she shines and polishes every syllable with the very tip of her tongue and teeth—one feels that if one were to touch her, she would crumble into silver dust.

 

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