Remnants of Bootlegging in CV

I have a wonderful photograph from the late ’20s of a bunch of the local constabulary, plus the local Justice of the Peace Judge Dyer, standing around grinning and smoking in front of the old Montrose Sheriff Station on Ocean View just above Honolulu. In front of them are stacks of big metal containers resting on their sides, the caps off, with gallons of confiscated moonshine pouring into the gutter.

During Prohibition, CV was close enough to L.A. to help supply the demand for bootleg liquor, but far enough away to be out-of-sight to the law. Our deep canyons provided many out of the way spots where moonshiners could produce their goods. Since the valley below had been cultivated largely in grapes, the moonshiners had plenty to work with. It was a hotbed of illegal alcohol production. Some of the local ranch houses had wine production areas that were fairly hidden and secret storage areas where the booze could be stashed.

Those areas are occasionally discovered in older homes today. I received an email from Randy Sims who remembered going to a friend’s house back in the ’60s, one of those stone houses on the north end of Montrose. His buddy mentioned that he had a basement and he had something cool to show Randy there. As they stepped down into the basement, the friend jumped up, grabbed the beam above him, planted his feet firmly against the concrete back wall, and pushed hard. A section of the concrete wall swung slowly inward revealing a long concrete room about five feet wide and running the length of the house.

Randy’s friend said his parents had only found it when they accidently discovered a large steel lever hidden under a rug in the dining room. When they pulled it, it unlocked this secret room directly below. It was empty now, but when they first discovered it, it had the decaying remains of a still, several empty jars and a cot. One end of the long room ended in a short dirt tunnel that came to the surface behind the house in some thick bushes.

A more recent discovery was made by Stuart Byles, a local contractor and vice president of the Historical Society. He was doing a job on one of the old houses near Foothill and La Crescenta, and got talking to a neighbor in a ’20s style home. When Stuart talked about his interest in local history, the neighbor said, “I’ve got to show you this!”

Below the landing of a stairway that came down next to his garage was a secret doorway, which you had to get down on your hands and knees to see. Once you found the hidden latch, you crawled down into an eight-foot high basement under the floor of the garage. Scattered around were a dozen ancient wine carboys, some sealed, with remnants of what must have once been wine. The back wall had a bricked up hole in it, and the neighbor explained that that had been a tunnel just big enough to crawl through. The tunnel went across his yard, into the yard next door and emerged in the floor of that guy’s garage, which had since been torn down.

Stuart and the neighbor then entered the main house and went down steps into a full-sized underground basement. In that basement was a closet, and hidden in the floorboards of the closet was a trap door. Opening that revealed another set of steep stairs descending into a basement below the basement, about half the size of the one above! This was a heck of a big working space, two stories underground, beneath a nothing little house! If these walls could talk!

I’ll bet there are many readers who have puzzling hidden spaces in their local houses and perhaps some interesting stories to go along with them. I’d love for you to pass them along, to add to the crazy history of our deceptively quiet community.

Sews Your Mother!

This past weekend my wife dragged me – um, I mean I willingly accompanied her – to a local fabric store while she shopped for material to sew a birthday gift. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that spending precious hours of the weekend meandering through row upon row of fabrics and notions (what exactly is a “notion” anyway?) is not exactly my idea of time well spent. My wife, however, seems to derive as much enjoyment from the experience as I do wandering the canyons of lumber-laden shelves and towering walls of bright, shiny, wondrous power tools at a home improvement store. Go figure.

She, like many other women of her generation, learned to sew both from her mother and from now-extinct home economic classes once routinely offered in junior and senior high schools. My own mom was/is a seamstress par excellence. When I was a kid, Mom’s porcelain-colored Singer sewing machine was an appliance at least as important to our household as the refrigerator, stovetop, washing machine or our family television. Okay, maybe not the TV.

In fact, long before the expression, “There’s an app for that!” became part of the vernacular, I remember another common phrase used around our house as I was growing up. If any of us kids needed a cheerleading outfit, a hip and trendy vest, Halloween costume, pair of warm, snuggly pajamas, Paisley/Carnaby Street shirt or even a Neru jacket like the ones the Beatles wore stepping off of the BOAC airliner on the tarmac at JFK – my mom would pull the cover off her sewing machine and say, “I’m sure there’s a pattern for that!” Then she’d paw through her overstuffed boxes of sewing patterns searching for something remotely close to the article of clothing we were asking for.

If she didn’t already have a pattern or one that could be altered to come close (trust me on this, fashion standards were a lot more tolerant and forgiving in the ’60s), she would load us kids into the family station wagon – a candy apple green Plymouth number with fake, wood grain “paneling” on its sides – and haul us down to one of several sewing/notions/fabric stores on Honolulu Avenue.

I would sit as quietly as a kid could sit amongst a cavernous room full of other moms looking through thick, oversized catalogs of patterns from companies like Butterick, Simplicity, McCalls and Vogue. (My wife says that Vogue patterns were the most difficult to master. I wonder if Madonna sews. My wife and I live in different worlds.)

Anyway, I remember one article of clothing in particular my Mom made for yours truly that – in retrospect – probably seemed like a righteously cool idea at the time. But the reality of the finished product was embarrassing at best. It was a one-piece pair of overalls made of dark chocolate brown, wide-wale corduroy. I’m talkin’ wide, wide wale. Like drive a MatchBox car between those bad boys.

What on God’s green earth was I thinking? In my defense, I was the drummer in one garage band or another from sixth grade through senior high, so I did have a proclivity to push the fashion envelope – at least as much as my short-sleeve-white-shirt-polyester-tie wearing, tapered haircut-loving Dad would allow. Apparently, however, a corduroy nerd suit was permissible. Either that or my Dad’s in heaven snickering at me even now.

Last weekend as I caught up on emails, texted and absentmindedly shuffled after my wife while she picked her way through bolts of wildly colored material and “fat quarter” packs (don’t ask), I half-wondered if sewing as a hobby was quickly becoming a lost art. Wide wale corduroy overalls notwithstanding that would be a shame.

Then again, my talented and oh-so-crafty wife reminds me that there is an ongoing resurgence of young, upwardly mobile girls and women taking up old-school arts like knitting, quilting and needlepoint.

Me? I’m holding out for macramé to make a comeback.

I’ll see you ’round town.

Differing Opinions Needed
It’s ironic that Julie Hill comes to Jim Chase’s defense by essentially stating that his detractors should be the very ones “welcoming a diversity of writers and opinions.” That indeed is the heart of the matter. If the CV Weekly ran a column next to his that expressed a point of view other than his narrow minded – and what some would label bigoted opinions – they’d be subjected to far less criticism.

This has been going on for years and its time the CV Weekly acknowledged the fact that it serves a very diverse community who hope to see more sides presented than this one voice that seems to have an “agenda” of his own.

Carolyn Klas
La Crescenta

Thinks Things Haven’t Changed Much
In response to Mike Lawler’s Feb. 2 “Treasures of the Valley” he states that “…those of differing color, ethnic background and faith had problems being accepted … in La Crescenta in the late ’20s.” Well, here we are in 2012 and I don’t think much has changed.

Recently, my son stopped his car for a few minutes to make a phone call in front of a residence on Henrietta Avenue near Pennsylvania and no sooner than he got on the phone a “gentleman” walked over to his car, questioned him about why he was in the neighborhood and told him to leave, [that] he didn’t belong there because he is black.

So even though John “Drayman believes things have changed and that CV is today a tolerant and inclusive place,” there are still those out there are living in the past.

And yes, Mr. Lawler, history often repeats and will continue to repeat until people are more tolerant.

Juanita Lewis
La Crescenta


 

Countdown To Relay
Your child has cancer! Four words the no parent need ever hear. After the initial shock has worn off, you as a parent turn on the auto pilot and move on. That’s where our journey began.

In December 2002, our son CJ, whose passion was running long distance, was diagnosed with osteo-sarcoma (bone-cancer) in his left heel. His doctors told us the course of action would be chemo- therapy and a below the knee amputation, followed by more chemo. During our shock and disbelief, the doctors suggested we call the American Cancer Society’s toll free number, 1-800-ACS-2345. With some reluctance we did.

We were blown away by all the programs and services the American Cancer Society provides. Yes, we used their services and were grateful for them.

In May 2003, shortly after CJ’s surgery, we were invited to Relay For Life, an American Cancer Society community event at CJ’s former high school. Wow! Who knew that communities celebrated cancer survivors? Relay is a 24-hour party and all are welcome.

During the evening’s luminary ceremony, our son turned to his dad and me and said, “Mom, Dad, regardless if I’m here or not next year, you have to promise me to get involved … this is so cool.”

Chuck and I kept our promise to our son and we are happy to be involved for our ninth year.

Oh, CJ is doing well and loving life. He didn’t give up his passion to run – he held the world record for the half marathon (1:21:12) and a few more! His new passion? Rock climbing.

Please join us for this year’s Foothills Relay For Life at Clark Magnet High School,

4747 New York Ave. on Saturday, May 12, at 9 a.m. to Sunday, May 13 at 9 a.m.

It is 24 hours that will change your life.

Chuck and Regan Boone
La Crescenta

Bowled Over By Commercials

I’m glad it’s finally February. For one thing, I can’t remember a January before this last one that I had to turn on the ceiling fan just to be able to sleep comfortably at night.

With any luck, this month will at last bring some more seasonally cold temps and rainfall. But I’ll leave the official weather prognostication and precipitation prestidigitation to my columnist colleague Sue Kilpatrick.

Mostly, I’m thankful it’s February because those awful, terrible, annoyingly vapid JCP commercials with all the screaming people are supposed to be replaced by, well, something else. It seems like only yesterday that we were subjected to months of that screaming guy in the commercials for Universal Studios’ King Kong attraction.

But back to JCP, which, in case you haven’t caught on to their marketing sleight of hand, is what JC Penny is now calling itself. You know, like Kentucky Fried Chicken tried to become relevant and cool by calling itself KFC. Or like California Pizza Kitchen suddenly became CPK. It’s marketing gimmicks like this – along with obnoxiously loud and uncreative commercials like the current JCP teaser campaign – that make me cringe with embarrassment at my own profession.

Thankfully, this weekend has the potential to redeem my faith in the creative process.

As someone who has spent the last 30 years or so writing advertising copy (not “verbage,” please!) including literally thousands of TV and radio commercials, or “spots” as we call them in the biz, the annual NFL Super Bowl broadcast is Christmas, the World Series and Olympics all rolled into one event.

To get an idea how important and prestigious the Super Bowl is to advertisers, the going rate for a mere 30 seconds of airtime on this Sunday’s broadcast is a reported $3.5 million. For 30 seconds! That’s over $116,000 a second. Even the federal government doesn’t spend money that fast. Oh wait, yes it does.

This year’s Super Bowl advertisers include Volkswagen, Acura, Coca-Cola, Toyota, Career Builder, Anheuser-Busch, Audi and others with deep marketing budgets. I really couldn’t care less whether the Patriots or the Giants win on Sunday, since the Dodgers didn’t even make it into the playoffs (and that right there should tell you how much of a football fan I am). No, I’m more interested to see whether the agency creative teams have come up with winners or wieners to debut during the broadcast. If I have to go to the bathroom or the kitchen, I’ll be going during the game itself so I can be sure not to miss any of the commercials. I’m not kidding.

At some point in the early ’80s, the Super Bowl became the place for advertisers and the agencies who produce their commercials to showcase new, hopefully breakthrough work – spots that were created to be talked about at office water coolers all across the country the following Monday. The advent of online streaming video channels has only increased the importance of having a hit commercial air during the Super Bowl.

Apple’s “1984” commercial to launch the Macintosh computer was one of the first TV spots to use a “big idea” concept along with feature-film production values (the ground-breaking spot was directed by then newcomer Ridley Scott, who went on to direct “Aliens,” “Thelma & Louise,” “Gladiator,” “Black Hawk Down” and other mega-hits). It also enjoyed the highly unusual status of airing only once – during the game itself – and never again. At least, Apple never paid to have the commercial run again.

This Sunday I’ll be glued to the set, watching to see if another water-cooler-worthy commercial is aired. I’m certain of one thing, however. If the ad agency creative teams have done their jobs, the only screaming heard during Sunday’s game will be from unhappy Patriots or Giants fans.

Then again, it could also be me screaming at the summer-like weather that continues to torture my very soul.

I’ll see you ’round town.

Jewish Life in Old CV

The early settlers of CV were mostly wealthy Midwesterners, along with immigrants from Germany, Italy and other European countries. All white, and predominantly Protestant or Catholic. Those of differing color, ethnic background or faith had problems being accepted, and early people of the Jewish faith faced just that problem in La Crescenta.

An early member of the Jewish community in the valley, Jerry Weinberg related that his family moved to the valley in the late ’20s and felt culturally isolated.

One day they participated in a tree-planting project in Montrose. When little Jerry spoke some words of Yiddish to his mother, one of the tree-planting supervisors overheard, and enthusiastically jumped into the conversation. The Jewish “Goldie” Goldstein was working locally as a forest ranger and he and the Weinbergs became fast friends. Jerry told me that as a kid he was shunned by many neighborhood kids and some parents banned their children from playing with him because of his Jewish roots. He related too that the small enclave of local Jews was uncomfortably aware of the German Bund, the American arm of the Nazi party, that were part of the weekend celebrations at Hindenberg Park in the 1930s.

By 1955, the Jewish community in the valley had grown large enough to warrant the construction of the Crescenta Valley Jewish Center at 3966 Pennsylvania. About 100 families were members of the Center, but for reasons unknown to me they didn’t last. Sometime in the ’60s they folded and that building today is a preschool with a very recognizable purple paint job, right at the intersection of Pennsylvania and Honolulu avenues.

A more recent view of Jewish life in CV comes from my good friend John Drayman. He told me that his father Jay Drayman, a clothing manufacturer, moved to L.A. in 1949 seeking a dryer climate for his wife Dale. He was attracted to Glendale because of its great schools, but as he was house hunting several homes he made offers on mysteriously were taken off the market or inexplicably fell out of escrow. He was finally able to purchase a home in CV outside the Glendale borders which was free of the racial and ethnic covenants so typical of many Glendale properties at the time. As a businessman, he was active in the community, and like other businessmen was anxious to network. He was encouraged to apply for a membership to the Oakmont Country Club by a close friend and local developer who had built the Glenwood Oaks tract. However he was denied membership and was told by the committee that his religion was the reason. Interestingly, the son of the man who blackballed John’s father later became one of John’s closest friends and recounted the details of this act of prejudice.

For Jewish families in the ’60s there was still a sense of threat, unspoken but tangible despite the enactment of the Civil Rights Act. By the time John was a teenager in the ’70s, local anti-Semitism was far less overt, and only seemed to surface when folks of a certain generation got angry. He remembers that as a kid selling Christmas cards door-to-door, he once had a disagreement over a misspelling approved and initialed by a customer. She ended the argument by calling him a “dirty Jew.” Drayman also suffered a beating at the Keyhole public pool during the Six-Day War by older boys whose parents told John he should “go to Israel to fight alongside the other Jews.”

Drayman believes that things have changed for the better, and that CV is today a tolerant and inclusive place. The simple fact that he was elected to the City Council in Glendale, a city that was home to the American Nazi Party for decades, speaks volumes to John.

I like to think that the bias that American Jews faced in our community is history now. But history often repeats. Today the Armenian-American community, which shares a background of genocide, Diaspora and immigration with the Jewish experience, struggle for acceptance in the Crescenta Valley just as the Jews did before them.

Lends His Support
Jim [Chase], keep on telling it like you see it [Viewpoints, My Thoughts Exactly, Jan. 26].  Those thin-skinned people can take a hike to a hot place. I too am sick and tired of those who want someone fired or to apologize because they do not agree with what was said or written. That is life. Nowhere is it written that anyone has the right to not be offended. Tough!

I may not always agree, but that is my privilege. I will not conflict with your right, or anyone else’s, to say or write what you want. Dennis Miller said it best when he said that was his opinion, he could be wrong.

If the [CV Weekly] were to let you go for stating your opinion, they would not see another red cent from me.

Keep it up. The others be damned!

Tom Suter
La Crescenta

Takes Offense to Attitude
In the article, “Lunch Signature Needed for CV Kids,” [Jan. 26], GUSD Deputy Superintendent Dr. John Garcia was reported to have said, “It is a privilege to leave campus, not a right.”

I take offense to this. Not solely to Dr. Garcia’s comment, but to the notion that seems to be behind this comment, that students leave certain rights at the door when they enter school, almost as if they were convicted criminals entering prison. This notion is nigh-universally accepted, to where even the Supreme Court upheld the right of schools to punish students for even off-campus speech and those who oppose this notion are lampooned as being only silly teenagers and young adults.

I understand the concerns that have led to the possibility of the CVHS lunch policy being changed. But there are ways to address those problems while still respecting the rights of students.

Michael Sutherland
La Crescenta

Shares His Thoughts on Starbucks Proposal
I’m pretty upset about the proposal of what Starbucks is planning for the remodel of the structure at Ocean View and Honolulu. If it does evolve where they are granted approval, I would like the MSPA along with the City of Glendale to require the original facade of the building be restored. This would benefit the community in the event the business didn’t survive (at least we’d have benefited visually as an community).

In fact, this could be a beneficial approach for negotiating future contracts for outside entities wanting to develop in our community.
Just my thoughts.

Bill Costello
La Crescenta

Cheers to Chase
Jim Chase’s columns are a highlight of the CV Weekly. I like Mr. Chase’s comments, humor and reflections and insights on issues. (Does the Rifleman really fire 13 shots from a rifle that only holds 11?)

A few weeks ago, Mr. Chase mentioned the excessive number of laws passed last year including the surprising number geared toward the homosexual agenda. Recently, letters have appeared not only attacking his opinion column entitled My Thoughts, Exactly, but insisting the column be removed because the writers disagree with the facts, thoughts, and opinions expressed. Yet they all claim they welcome a diversity of writers and opinions.

Perhaps someone else can make sense of this. I am not only puzzled, but I am surprised by the nasty letters. Mr. Chase is to be applauded for characterizing the letters as “vitriol-soaked missives” and moving on to other issues. I’m looking forward to his next column.

Julie Hill
La Crescenta

“22% Fear”
Mary O’Keefe Offers Insight on CVHS Play

On Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights at 7 p.m. Crescenta Valley High School students will be performing the original play “22% Fear” at the MacDonald Auditorium.

This play was inspired by a survey given to CVHS students that found 22% of kids felt harassed or bullied at school. Teacher Brent Beerman’s drama department set up an email account and invited students to anonymously submit their stories of bullying. Those emails evolved into “22% Fear.”
Students throughout the day today, Thursday, will be viewing the play and are encouraged to bring their parents tonight, Friday or Saturday.
I saw the play this morning and I strongly advise all parents, no matter the age of your children, to attend an evening performance.
I am a member of the Crescenta Valley Drug and Alcohol Prevention Coalition. At one of the first seminars we held, a video of kids talking about drugs was presented. I was part of the production team for that video.
I knew that drugs were in our area; I knew kids were involved, but to hear teenagers talking about what they saw in their school quite honestly floored me. And that is not easy to do.
I felt that exact emotion today when I watched “22% Fear.” Through kids we hear the stories we remember when we were their age. The bullying, the mean girls, the threats and the misunderstandings. What we dealt with was bad but what today’s kids are dealing with is worse. Today there is no escape to your room because social media follows you everywhere. It is on your computer and on your phone. Cyberbullying is an extension of the campus attacks.
The play covers physical and emotional bullying and it deals with violent teen dating, with both boys and girls as victims.
As parents we are all responsible for the safety of our kids, even when they don’t want us to get involved. This play is a great way to open a dialogue with your child about harassment and abuse, to talk to them about being a victim or being a bully.
The production also gives students a sense of power. “It is illegal,” they say of harassment.
“You are not alone.” They promise.
The play is Thursday through Saturday, Feb. 2, 3, and 4 at 7 p.m.
Tickets are $5 for students and $10 for adults.

Tolerance, Trash, TV & Me

So, where were we? Well, in addition to receiving vitriol-soaked missives attacking me for daring to voice an opinion different from theirs, and – in the name of tolerance and civil dialogue, ironically – demanding the removal of my column from this paper and the silencing of my views (I wonder, do these folks ever look in the mirror and recognize themselves as the primary source of the hate, intolerance and demonization in public discourse today? Probably not.) … besides that, last week I was writing about primetime television and the possible elimination of FCC restrictions on content allowed to be shown by network broadcasters.

You remember primetime television, right? That block of time reserved for good, wholesome family entertainment? Not hardly. According to the Parents Television Council (PTC), a group that advocates for “family friendly TV,” the use of profanity alone has skyrocketed in recent years. A recent Wall Street Journal article quoted a PTC report last year showing 1,227 bleeped or unbleeped uses of the “F-word” or “S-word” on primetime network broadcasts. As recently as 2005 there were only five such instances. Sadly, some would call that progress.

Actually, I’m surprised last year’s bleeping total isn’t higher. It’s gotten so that you can’t even watch a morning news program without the ever-present, ever-lovin’ sound of bleeps. When you also factor in the violent and perverted plots, along with the flood of salacious, lewd and downright crude content, I’m beginning to think that “TV” should stand for “Toxically Vile” or “Terribly Violent.” Maybe “Too Vacuous” would be even more appropriate.

I’m no longer surprised to hear of parents who have either completely pulled the plug on TV in their homes or who have dramatically limited what content they allow in by way of strict parental controls or prescreened DVDs.

Every once in a while, however, a glimmer of hope appears on the screen. In this case, it isn’t the TV, but the silver screen.

A couple of weeks ago my wife and I were trying to decide which of the current movies to go see in the theater. Although it was far from my first choice, we had heard several critics rave about “The Artist” and – never one to miss the chance to score beaucoup hubby points for willingly going to see a chick flick – we went. I was hesitant, to say the least. After all, the film is set in 1927 and it’s entirely in black and white. It’s a silent movie about a silent film star. You read that right – a silent movie. As in, no dialogue. And I was supposed to sit through 100 minutes of that?

The movie turned out to be one of the most enjoyably entertaining, inventively original pieces of movie making we’ve had the pleasure of seeing in a long time. The plot was engaging, the acting Oscar-worthy, the costumes, music and art direction were all perfect. But how could that possibly be? There wasn’t a naked body (other than “Uggie,” a too-cute Jack Russell Terrier), no F-bombs or any swear words for that matter, no slam against the U.S. or our military, no corrupt conservative politicians, no evil, profit-hungry corporations, no hypocritical Christian character, not even a single drunken, party-hearty low-life from New Jersey.

Even more surprising, “The Artist” won several top awards at the recent Golden Globes ceremony – an awards show with a penchant for celebrating anything controversial, non-traditional and counter-cultural. Just this week, the movie was also nominated for at least six Oscars. So, as I said, maybe there’s reason to hope. Then again, if the networks ever wind up showing “The Artist” on TV, they’ll probably want to trash it up to boost ratings.

And now, I’d better shut up. Because I certainly wouldn’t want to get any letters accusing me of inciting malice or hatred towards tolerant and enlightened progressives who like their films with sound.

I’ll see you ’round town.

John Steinbeck’s Life in Montrose

I wrote previously about the amazing discovery that one of America’s greatest writers, John Steinbeck, spent a few months living on Hermosa Avenue just east of Rosemont in a little shack that still exists as a rental unit behind some apartments. Since then, my former CV High School teacher, now mentor, Gary Keyes gave me a copy of “The True Adventures of John Steinbeck, Writer” by Jackson J. Benson, which details Steinbeck’s short time in Montrose.

It was mid-summer of 1932, and Steinbeck and his wife Carol had been staying in Pacific Grove living off handouts from his parents and Carol’s secretarial job with Ed Ricketts (fictionalized as “Doc” in “Cannery Row”). Ed had to let Carol go, and the Steinbecks decided to head for sunny Los Angeles and their friend “Dook,” a professor at Occidental College. These were wild times for young Steinbeck, and John embraced the Bohemian lifestyle – lots of drinking and carousing. He was broke but happy.

Looking for cheap rent, they found a shack for rent amongst other shacks in Montrose. John had found a publisher (unbeknownst to him about to go bankrupt) for “Pastures of Heaven,” and had gotten a very small advance. Carol was busy typing the manuscript for “To a God Unknown,” and John was scrambling for any paid writing job.

Steinbeck wrote some freelance sketches of local life in CV, and attempted to sell them to area newspapers but was turned down. Yes, you read that right! Perhaps the greatest American writer submitted material to our little local rag, The Ledger, and they turned him away! As far as we know, those essays no longer exist as Steinbeck was in the habit of burning work he was unhappy with, but imagine the vignettes of life in CV that were penned by this great writer!

Steinbeck was influenced by local events in other ways. In January of 1933, desperate for money, Steinbeck wrote to his agent:

“We live in the hills behind Los Angeles now and there are few people around. One of our neighbors loaned me 300 detective magazines, and I have read a large part of them out of pure boredom. They are so utterly lousy that I wonder whether you have tried to peddle that thing I dashed off to any of them.”

He was referring to “Murder at Full Moon,” a mystery thriller that he had regretfully submitted to his agent under a pseudonym. He always considered it a piece of “hack literature,” and it was never published. Yet as he sat in his little shack in Montrose reading a neighbor’s magazines, he held out hope that even it might be published.

By February of 1933 he was finished financially. He wrote to a friend: “Apparently we are headed for the rocks. The light company is going to turn off our power in a few days, but we don’t care much. The rent is up soon and we shall move… We’ll get in the car and drive until we can’t buy gasoline anymore.”

They did leave and the next year Steinbeck’s fortunes changed for the better.

It’s fun to imagine the various influences that Steinbeck’s time in Montrose may have had on his writing. His first literary success, “Tortilla Flats,” published just after leaving Montrose, followed the lives of a group of desperately poor friends living in a shack. Was that based on Steinbeck’s time here? It seems likely.

While in CV he undoubtedly encountered Okies camping in the canyons and streambeds of CV as was written about by Woody Guthrie in his song, “The Los Angeles New Year’s Flood.” Did these encounters contribute to his portrayal of Okies in “The Grapes of Wrath”? Our tragic flood happened just a few months after Steinbeck left and it can be assumed he heard that the area of Montrose he had lived in was devastated. Was this the basis of his flood scene in “The Grapes of Wrath”?

It’s definitely food for thought, but we’ll never know fully what influence Montrose had on one of America’s greatest novelists, John Steinbeck.

Applauds Kilpatrick
Well said, Doug Kilpatrick, (Letters to the Editor, He’s “Gone Too Far,” Jan. 19). Jim Chase’s words do indeed “spread misinformation, foster intolerance, and spread hurt, and hatred.” Many Chase columns cry out for a little or a lot of correction or clarification, but the entertainment value is rarely worth that close a reading and the time and energy to respond.

Even misinformation, intolerance, and yes, hate, have a right to be heard, not that we have to listen. Brought into the light, such views can be exposed for what they are, as Kilpatrick has done very well.  But are Chase’s thoughts really the best that our delightfully diverse and friendly valley have to offer?

Roberta Medford
Montrose

Seniors: The Best Kept Secret
The best-kept secret is that of ASTER (Assisting Seniors through Enhanced Resources). ASTER is a non-profit organization that is run by volunteers that care about the needs of seniors in the foothill area. ASTER provides local meetings with knowledgeable speakers and information at no cost that allows seniors to make wise decisions and live meaningful lives. ASTER also provides discount cards that are honored at a few local businesses.

ASTER’s website at http://www.theaster.org offers a calendar of events for the current month. If you do not have a computer or very seldom turn it on, you can call ASTER at (818) 306-5224. ASTER teams with the YMCA, Glendale Adventist hospital and Verdugo Hills Hospital as well as many other organizations to provide extended benefits to local seniors.

Future meeting will include travel including day trips, living independently, learning how to deal with limitations. There will also be a great Christmas program.  So come help us grow by letting us know your needs and give us your wisdom.

Jack & Lupe Geer  (Local seniors)
La Crescenta

Blame The Messenger
The recent revelations about Barry Allen, the city’s main “watch dog,” have troubled many of his supporters. But what are more troubling are the enemies of Barry Allen.

Frank Abagnale, in the movie “Catch Me If You Can,” found redemption by helping the FBI in counterfeiting. Is Barry Allen a 21st century hero of redemption in local politics?

I became acquainted with Barry Allen about four years ago. I would ask him questions about government and he was always there to help and give advice. There wasn’t much that Barry did not know about the law, investigative reporting and politics in general.

However, on the city’s issues we could discuss pros and cons on different subjects. But he was always a stickler for evidence and documentation. He would say, “Don’t get your information from a newspaper article; do your own research and then draw your own conclusions.” At times, Barry would chastise me when I was wrong … which in the long run, hopefully, makes me a better public speaker and writer.

One day I asked Barry why he was trying to right the wrongs in government … Democrats or Republicans … he said very simply: “I just had a calling for it.”

Barry is a more religious Jew than I – perhaps his past troubles with the law made him more religious and he found redemption by helping others who might have gone astray?

[A recent] Tuesday night’s council meeting orchestrated vendettas against Allen were worthy of Academy Award nominations for all the players. The goal of the players was to discredit Allen and make their new heroes, council incumbents, look better for the April 2013 election. After all, Allen had all the evidence that might put their previous local hero, John Drayman, in prison someday. In the past Allen provided the evidence that landed Councilman Dave Weaver a $9,000 fine for campaign violations by the California Fair Political Practice Commission.  Additionally, Allen had recently been going after Najarian and Freidman for their questionable business interest. That evening, best acting award came from Councilman Ara Najarian, whose dramatic acting performance was definitely worthy of the “Oscar.”

Mike Mohill
Glendale   

Is Lawler Keeping A Secret?
In Mike Lawler’s Treasures of the Valley on Jan. 19, he states “both” the building’s owner and Starbucks are aware of the architectural gem they’re sitting on. And then states “they” declined to shoulder the expense of a restoration project.

Another line states, “The fake front will be pulled off in the Starbucks remodel and will be covered again.”

Have I missed an article that announces Starbucks is approved to open in the Montrose Shopping Park location?

Or does Mike Lawler know something we don’t?

Stephanie Johnson
La Crescenta