Dateline>City of Angels

For me, a visit to this mission is always like a trip back in time.

Off the beaten track just outside Lompoc, La Purísima was founded in 1787 as the 11th of California’s 21 missions. It moved to its current site in 1812 after a huge quake destroyed the first complex, four miles away.

Now a California State Park, its nearly 2,000 acres include ranch animals, corrals and gardens reflecting the Mission Era, as well as more than 10 fully restored and furnished buildings, plus 25 miles of hiking trails.

It’s safe to say that few places offer a more serene (or  realistic) experience of Pastoral California under the Spanish flag.

While organizing my old digital files I stumbled across this detail shot of a dusk-lit Victorian porch on Carroll Ave. It was snapped about two years ago with my then-new Nikon D70s, just after I took up amateur photography.

Each fall I like to return to Carroll Ave. and take in its haunting Victorian homes. Part of the Angelino Heights historic overlay zone, the street dates to the 1880s and  boasts the highest concentration of Victorian residences in the city — not to mention great downtown views.

Designed by the architect Joseph Cather Newsom, the ornate, 12-room house depicted here was built in 1889 for dairyman Charles Sessions.

They say you can’t take it with you.

Maybe not, but it sure can buy you one helluva sendoff.

Just ask Louise Maier, only daughter of the wealthy Joseph Maier, the Bavarian owner of L.A.’s Philadelphia Brewery in the late 1800s. When Lulu (as she was known about town) died in 1897 at the blossom age of 18, her final exit created quite a stir.

“For the first time at a funeral in this city, the corpse was not encased in a regular casket,” reported her March 28, 1897, Los Angeles Times obit. Rather, her funeral directors introduced a stylish catafalque “in the shape of a burial couch.”

Elaborate new death rituals were all the rage in Victorian Los Angeles, and Lulu’s didn’t disappoint. The Times went on to note that, after lying in state in her posh apartment “clad in a rich robe instead of the conventional shroud,” the “dead maiden” was conveyed to the cemetery “calmly sleeping” upon her comfy pink sofa, accompanied by a huge cortege of 120 carriages.

Upon reaching this family mausoleum at Angelus-Rosedale Cemetery, “a funeral chant was sung, a cover was placed over the couch and it was placed in the bier and conveyed to the grave.”

Tempting as it was to peer into the tomb the day I snapped this photo, I have to admit I was too afraid to look.

You never know what — or who — you’ll run into at the local rummage shop. While out practicing night shots along La Brea, I also stumbled across Homer, Marge and Bart jailed among the shabby chic of this floodlit corner vintage yard.

Hopefully someone will spring them soon and give them a good home. Of course, the big question is the whereabouts of Maggie and Lisa. I can’t stand seeing any family split up, even the cartoon variety.

What better way to enjoy the waning summer than a late-night outing to Pink’s?

Probably the most popular hot dog spot in all Southern California, Pink’s has plied its trade near the La Brea and Melrose intersection since 1939, drawing huge crowds for its world-famous chili dogs well into the wee hours.

Of course, waiting in lines that sometimes stretch halfway down the block is all part of the adventure, with occasional celebrity sightings always helping to pass the time.

As this past weekend has again reminded us, fires have long been the scourge of Griffith Park. Devastating as the 2007-2008 fire seasons have been, however, the worst disaster in the park’s history remains the Great Fire of 1933, seen in this vintage AP photo sent by a Dateline>City of Angels reader.

Like the recent spate of burnings, arson was the suspected cause of the firestorm that erupted almost 75 years ago, with several witnesses saying they had seen a suspicious man running from a rapidly rising column of smoke at the blaze’s flashpoint.

The original Associated Press wire caption to this Oct. 5, 1933, photo reads as follows…

“Twenty Seven Known Dead in Brush Fire: A front line scene of fire fighters building breaks to stop the raging brush and timber fire in Griffith Park, Los Angeles, October 3. Twenty-seven persons were known to have lost their lives, and officials expected the death list to mount higher.”

Remembering the Tragedy

The official death toll did indeed rise to 29, but during the aftermath inquests some citizen groups challenged those figures, arguing that the number killed was almost certainly higher.

Being the Depression Era, there were more than 3,000 men in the park clearing brush and maintaining trails as part of a workfare program when the fire broke out. As the flames spread, the workers were pressed into service to battle them. Inexperienced in fire fighting, their foremen often barked conflicting and dangerous orders, and many found themselves trapped in canyons by wind-swept flames that suddenly turned on them. Assessing the missing, injured and dead took days.

To honor the victims, a memorial cedar tree and bronze plaque were erected Nov. 23, 1933, near the park’s Vermont entrance. That plaque has since disappeared.

Drive-By Shot: While cruising along Main Street this afternoon, I caught sight of this giant carousel pony in a salvage yard near Avenue 20, at the edge of downtown.

Towering a full story in height, I first thought the equestrian unit might be the project of some artist living and/or working in the nearby lofts. Then I realized our prancing friend is more likely a fugitive from an old Rose Parade float.

Whatever he’s doing here, let’s hope this rusting pony isn’t headed for the glue factory — or in this case, the scrap heap.

There seems far too much spirit left in him for such an ignoble end.

My amateur quest for interesting neon scenes recently led me to Echo Park’s House of Spirits liquor store. Always hopping on weekends, the thriving business caters to an extremely “eclectic” crowd ranging from the area’s Old Guard to retro-hipsters, gentrifiers and prerequisite vagrants. Yet despite its unruly appearance and traffic patterns, the store is surprisingly clean, safe and friendly. (A uniformed security guy helps see to that.) More ‘hoods should be so lucky as to have a quickie-booze stop like this.

[Shutterbug Details: Nikon D70s, 3 sec. @ f22, 46mm, ISO 200.]

An old gnarled trunk forms an eerie arch in the so-called “Badlands” of Elysian Park.

Originally part of El Pueblo de Los Angeles’ common lands, the 600-acre tract was officially established as the city’s first public park in April 1886. Today the green space offers stunning city views and is home to the Police Academy, Dodger Stadium, Grace Simons Lodge, and a former Navy / Marine Armory now used as an LAFD training center. Yet long before their appearance, the locale had already witnessed plenty of history and lore.

You might even say that Los Angeles owes its very existence to this place.

The historic Portola Expedition encamped near the park’s present-day Broadway entrance in 1769. Greatly impressed by the area’s natural beauty, they recommended it as the ideal site for the future City of Angels.

The town’s first Zanja Madre was also fed by a massive wooden water wheel situated along the L.A. riverbank nearby, and eventually by a small reservoir constructed in the park’s canyons.

Moreover, for decades treasure-seekers have believed that early pobladores like the Avilas and Picos buried their valuables in the park to safeguard them from raiding privateers and advancing American troops. No one has yet been able to prove the legend, which may also be connected to the story of a shrieking White Lady said to haunt the trails and hillsides. Some assert she keeps a lonely vigil over the lost belongings, while others claim she was the victim of a brutal post-World War II murder.

Then again, perhaps she’s an errant spirit from L.A.’s first Jewish cemetery, which once stood somewhere near Chavez Ravine.

Unfortunately, there were no signs of treasure, ghosts or gravestones when I snapped this photo with my trusty Nikon D70s just around sunset the other evening [1/50 sec. @ f10, 18-70mm lens]. With darkness — and the park’s curfew — closing in, I reluctantly hopped back in my Jeep and put it in gear, leaving exploration of these unsolved Elysian Mysteries for another day.