September 24, 1967: Got pics?

Diary entry for September 24, 1967:

We bought more film then went to La Brea Tar Pits and took pictures. Then we drove to Santa Monica Beach and took more pictures. Came home and took more pictures to send to family.

Based on the clothing worn by me and my parents it looks like seven pictures from today's trips to La Brea Tar Pits and Santa Monica Beach made it into the photo album, and I have already posted two of them. Those two were posted on August 28, and they are both from La Brea Tar Pits. One was just a lake of tar with an elephant statue in the background, and the other one was the picture of me and Mom, with Mom's awesome hairdo. Here is the one of me and Mom to refresh your memory. You'll need this for reference later.

Luckily for you loyal readers I am in all five of the remaining pictures from this day, so you get to see them all. We'll start with the La Brea Tar Pits series since we went there first, and then we'll look at the ones from Santa Monica Beach.

Here is another picture of me and Mom at La Brea Tar Pits, obviously in the same outfits as the previous photo.

I like to zoom in on these photos to look for interesting details. In the upper left of this photo you'll see what I'm calling a grassy knoll (hey, I'm from Dallas). If you zoom in on that area you'll see four well-dressed people sitting on a bench.

Why is that bench positioned such that the tree is right in front of it?

Next up is a picture of me and Dad at La Brea Tar Pits.

When I zoomed in on this one the detail I noticed was the cigarette in Dad's right hand.

I don't think Dad put quite as much effort as Mom did into dressing up for Picture Day.

Now let's go to Santa Monica Beach, 45 minutes away if you take Wilshire Blvd. First up is me in a tree.

If you look closely you may notice that I'm not smiling in that one like I am in the others. I think I was in a bit of a precarious position, barely keeping myself from falling forward with both of my arms fully extended and my right arm slightly behind me. Poor kid.

"Oh please, hurry up and take the picture so I can get down from here."

Also, how in the heck did my left sock get so dirty, and in that pattern? It wasn't that dirty in the pictures from La Brea Tar Pits.


Next is a picture of me and Dad with the beach in the background.

For those of you playing "Where's the cigarette?" it's in Dad's left hand this time.

Last is a picture of me and Mom with the beach in the background, probably only a few yards from where Dad and I were standing.

Before moving forward, let's take another look at the first picture of this post, the closeup of me and Mom at La Brea Tar Pits taken earlier that same day.

Now look at the beach photo of me and Mom again. Notice anything different? I'll zoom in to show you my favorite part of the beach photo. Look at Mom's hair and her body language.

That cracked me up when I first noticed it. I can just imagine her writing letters in the morning, then we had lunch, then she got dressed up and spent who knows how long doing her hair and makeup before we went to La Brea Tar Pits. Then we spent who knows how long looking for good picture spots, then we drove 45 minutes to Santa Monica Beach and spent who knows how long looking for good picture spots there. The darkness of the beach photos may or may not have been due to the time of day, but she was definitely not her perky made-up self in that last picture. This is one of those times where I would love to be able to ask her "What were you thinking while Dad was taking this picture?" Here's my guess: "I'm pregnant, my back hurts from standing for pictures all day, my hair's a mess due to this wind, and it's getting dark. I want to go home."

September 19, 1967: The wreck

Letter postmarked September 19, 1967:

This envelope did have a zip code, so the CCZCC now stands at 1.

"Dear Mother and Mike,

"I guess you both are back in the swing of things - school and workwise that is. Mike, did you get your schedule worked out to your satisfaction? Did Mike get a job with the credit union?"

"Saturday we got sort of a chain letter from Wayne, Linda and Bernie. Wayne finally got his pickup and I would imagine he's just like a kid with a new toy. From Linda's accounts of Wayne's spending on the farm and the new house, I can tell that he and Dave have reacted the same way towards a baby. Dave told me Saturday that we were going to get a Polaroid camera this week. Reason? I took two rolls of colored film - Disneyland and other places - and we got four pictures developed."

[Regarding what sounds like an increase in spending, in Dad's binder of pay stubs and expense reports there is a letter indicating he got a raise September 1. So that might explain his willingness to splurge on a new camera.]

[If only four pictures were developed up to this point, I'm guessing some of the ones I've posted from the photo album were taken after the Polaroid camera was purchased. I've noticed there are two different sizes of prints, so it might be easy to tell for sure which are the early ones. The two of me and my grandmother were obviously taken before this Polaroid camera was purchased.]

"We haven't done much since you left. Friday, David Wayne and I went to the La Brea Tar Pits. The pits were interesting, but the museum was strictly an art museum and not for us. After I have been so careful about _not_ taking David Wayne to picture shows that aren't fit, I expose him to art - nude paintings, nude statues, etc.! It only took a few minutes for me to find out I was in the wrong place with a five-year-old. A lady at the museum told me the bones of dinosaurs were at another museum 7-1/2 miles away. Figures. Surely one wouldn't think to keep the bones where they were found. Since I had told David Wayne we would see dinosaurs there was little I could do but drive there. I carefully followed the map the lady had given me and we did get there. But not before going ten blocks through a "Watts" area. That lady's great-grandfather must have been a general in the Northern army!"

[Now we know why Mom remarked in her diary entry that she didn't find the art museum interesting. I wonder if five-year-old me found it a little too interesting?]

[Now we also know a bit more about how Mom ended up driving through Watts that day. She hadn't planned on going to the Natural History Museum when we left the apartment so she had to follow a map she had just picked up at the art museum.]

"I was fairly shook up when we arrived, but the museum was great. There are four floors and we only saw a part of the first floor - we can spend a week there. Going home I took another route - on the freeway. At home, I literally fell on the bed for two hours and thanked God for my deliverance."

"Saturday Dave watched a game on television. That night we ate Mexican food on Olvera Street. Dave ate his food, all that I left, and all that David Wayne left - then he came home and got sick. He won't be wanting Mexican food for a looong time. Do you remember me commenting on the food at that restaurant being so reasonable? Well! They triple the price at night. It cost $9 for the three of us to eat! No wonder Dave had to eat all the food."

[Like I said before, Dad liked his Mexican food. That $9 in 1967 would be worth over $65 today, so I'm sure he didn't want to waste any of that food.]

"Sunday we just stayed home and relaxed. I was thankful for the change in pace and so were the boys."

"Monday really turned out to be _one_ day. Dave came home at his usual 5 o'clock. I had just walked back to the bedroom with him when he ran to the window and looked out. Then - just a second or two [later] - the floor of the apartment shook and lamps did a dance on their tables. I ran to the window and there it was - a woman had run into our apartment house! The car bounced off the wall and back onto the street and she was getting out (car still moving). Her car hit another car parked in front of the kindergarten. She got out of the car - dropping her wig on the street - and started walking down the street. Her head was cut and her nose was bleeding. We were out front by then and heard a man ask if he could help her. She replied, "Leave me alone," and she kept walking. Everyone around thought she was calling the police, but she just kept walking to the next block!"

[I wonder if Mom initially thought it was an earthquake?]

"The manager called the police when we saw that she had no intention of doing so. Here's what happened:"

[After seeing that drawing I think Dad must have heard the initial impact at location 1, which is why he ran to the window and looked out. I bet he was glad the car turned and hit the building instead of going a little further and hitting our car.]

"All of this in 5 o'clock traffic! The police came and then a wrecker to move it out of the street. Poor stupid police! They didn't know what to do - the driver of the illegally parked car was nowhere to be found, the owner of the car in front of the kindergarten wouldn't be home for another hour, and the woman that hit everything had just disappeared. Dave and I gave a description of what we saw. I told the police what she was wearing, how tall, etc. I doubt that they will pay much attention to what I said because when they asked for my name, address, and age I just froze and I told them I was 27. Dave said 26 and the policeman just looked at me and shook his head. They were confused enough and here was a woman giving her age as _older_ instead of _younger_! It turned out with the car being hauled off, the police getting woman's name from letters in car, (but not the woman) and us having supper at 7:30."

[Wow, quite the drama-filled evening on Normandie Avenue. I guess crazy people have been around for a long time.]

"This turned into a real catalog. We are all just fine, except now I'm not only afraid to drive but walk for fear of being run over on the sidewalk. Snappy is doing fine. I don't know which David gets more pleasure from the turtle."

"Take care of yourselves and write as often as you can."

"Love,
Linda"

September 15, 1967: Watts happening

Diary entry for September 15, 1967:

Wrote letter in AM and straightened house. David Wayne and I drove to La Brea Tar Pits. Went to Observation building and bought pictures and saw bones of sloth. The Art Museum was not interesting. Then we drove to another museum - Natural History. We enjoyed it. Drove through Watts on way to museum. I didn't like that. Came home by way of freeway. Very tired that night.

This was a legendary day Mom loved to talk about. I am so glad she mentioned it in a diary entry. First, let's look at a map to get our bearings.

Our apartment is at the top of the map, and the La Brea Tar Pits are less than four miles due west of there. The Art Museum is next door to the tar pits. The Natural History Museum is about a seven mile drive south and east of the La Brea Tar Pits, on the south side of I-10. Watts is a neighborhood about ten miles south of the Natural History Museum, near the intersection of I-110 and I-105. As you can see, Watts is definitely not on the way to the museum, which means Mom took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up driving through Watts, but found her way to the museum.

So what's the big deal with Watts and why didn't Mom like driving through it? For you youngsters out there, Watts was the scene of about a week of riots and civil unrest (looting and arson) in August of 1965, triggered by allegations of police brutality. Almost 1000 buildings were damaged, burned, looted, or destroyed. The National Guard was called in for support, and 34 people were killed during the riots. It was the worst unrest in Los Angeles history until the Rodney King riots of 1992. (For you youngsters out there, the Rodney King riots happened when . . . )

For disturbing reasons I won't get into here (they're easily googled), Watts was one of the racially segregated areas of Los Angeles with a very poor population at the time. I don't know if "ghetto" would be an accurate word to describe Watts in the late 1960s, but I'm sure many non-residents described it that way. Not just a ghetto, a dangerous ghetto given the 1965 riots. Gang violence significantly increased there in the 1970s, so chances are it wasn't a great place in 1967.

So my mother, sitting behind the wheel of our big white Pontiac Bonneville in her bouffant hairdo, drove little five-year-old me through possibly the most dangerous neighborhood in Los Angeles fifty years ago today. (Yes, this should remind you of the scene from National Lampoon's Vacation where Clark Griswold takes the family through a bad area of St. Louis in the Wagon Queen Family Truckster.)

Mom said when Dad got home and she told him about our day and how she inadvertently drove through Watts, he just about exploded and read her the riot act. (See what I did there?)

I doubt we'll be visiting Watts again during our stay in Los Angeles. And I didn't even get a bank. :-(

July 28, 1967: Tar

Diary entry for July 28, 1967:

I read this morning. Also did some hand washing. Around noon David Wayne and I walked to Beverly Blvd. Found a nice gift shop. I bought an anniversary present for my husband at a jewelry store. This has made me excited all day. Finished "Exodus." Got my first letter from mother which delighted me. Dave took us riding at night and we saw the tar pits on Wilshire Blvd. After that we came home and played Tripoley.

It looks like Mom and Dad's first wedding anniversary is coming up. Slightly odd wording when Mom wrote "my husband" instead of "Dave" or "David" when referring to the gift purchase.

Mom started "Exodus" on July 25 and finished it on July 28. That's considerably shorter than 40 years.

The tar pits Mom is referring to are the La Brea Tar Pits. I definitely remember visiting there. It was one of my favorite places, with depictions of large animals getting stuck in super gooey tar and all that's left of some of them is their bones. How cool is that?

This diary entry does confirm my suspicion that my grandmother probably wrote some letters to my mother while we were in Los Angeles. Oh how I wish I had those letters as well. My grandmother could really write, as evidenced by several examples I have of her writings (fiction and non-fiction) from grade school through college (which she returned to around the age of 50). Some of those writings will make the occasional Facebook appearance.

Tripoley is a board game that combines poker and a couple of card games. Tripoli is the capital of Libya. The first time the US flag was raised in victory on foreign soil was on the shores of Tripoli in 1805. Oorah!