Otis Chandler and Jay Leno: Tale of two Mercers

O.K enough Altadena Bickering. Back to what we are supposed to be doing here, writing reminices and about nice stuff like Architecture and water and so on.

Long long time ago when I was about 16, Joe Runyan, who was a car restorer and hot rodder who lived a couple blocks away and whose driveway and garage I would haunt, invited me to go to the Los Angeles Concourse De Elegance at the Ambassador Hotel lawn with him, his daughter Connie and Son Josh. I had been to car shows and such but I had never seen anything like this event. We drove Joe's 1930 v-16 Cadillac Dual Cowl Pheaton to the Ambassador. Joe's Cadillac had been one of the first V-16's restored and she was in all the Cadillac books. She was black and Joe had actually painted her as he did all his cars, under the tree in his back yard. The finish was deep, smooth, and totally flawless except for a teensie rub through spot on the drivers rear fender where it joined the bottom of the body. Bob Lee, the great Hot Rod upholsterer, did the interior in green and the rugs in red. The car had a natural canvas top and sidemount covers. Joe kept the canvas natural and the whitewalls a not super fresh cream color. White clashed too much with the top and was "Too Beverly Hills, not very Pasadena, and these were Pasadena cars" or so Joe said, and many of the great classics were indeed bodied in Pasadena and owned there and here in Altadena.

At the Concourse Joe had me go around and look at all the other Cadillacs. Joe had noticed that I had an annoying eye for perfection and had observed slight imperfections in his Cadillac and his hot rod 1940 Ford Coupe that no one else had noticed. So there were a bunch of caddys, and they all had various problems,except the maroon and sliver V 16 1930 Cadillac Dual Cowl Pheaton.

It looked pretty darn good. The whitewalls were the only other ones that were not bleached to white, but were a creamy color. The guy who owned it was a tall blonde handsome rugged looking guy who said hello, noted that I was with Joe Runyan and this gentleman asked me what I thought of his Cadillac. I walked around it quickley and came back to say "The paint is very fresh and should be rubbed out and polished a couple more times before its shown and Maurice did the body, it's not original." "Yes he said, Maurice did do the body, how did you know that?"
"See this angle on the curve of the top mouling at the front of the cowl?"
"Yes"
"Well Maurice did a roadster body for Joe's spare chassis, that angle on that body is wrong and it's the same and wrong on your car, so i figured Maurice made it."
"Wow. You are the first person who noticed."
"Yeah thats why Joe sent me."

Later in the day, most of the awards, including best in class for the class v-16 Cadillacs were in were given to the guy who owned that V-16, Otis Chandler. The LA Times sponsored the Concourse, but honestly most of Otis cars were excellent, but not that had an obvious "problem", at least to me.

About fifteen years later, I was at the start of the Horseless Carrige Club's Holiday Motor Excursion. There in the parking lot was a 1912 Mercer Type 35 Raceabout. The wheels and tires were clearly new, the wire wheels having been painted and the spokes trued. The brass was not polished, it had a patina of green brown oxide on it. The maroon and oxblood body had paint that was faded and spiderwebed. It was old,unrestored, and in marvelous condition. I was leaning over the thing gettting as close as I could to every detail without touching the car. It was a feast of original well preserved automotive art. A man leaned over me and said "Maurice didn't do the body on this one." It was Otis Chandler. He offered me a ride. He didn't have to ask twice. Otis cranked her over and she spun slowly to life with a sweet low rythmic throbbing. Otis climbed on, let out the clutch and moved thew throttle forward on the quadrant. We flew across the parking lot, made a tight hard left onto Foothill Blvd. and sitting low to the ground and open to the world, forty or fifty seemed awfully fast and awfully fun. Otis opened the exhaust cut out and opened her up all the way to Rosemead, up rosemead and back round to the parking lot. He eased the Mercer in slowly as her exhaust pulses throbbed on the black macadam. It was over too soon, yet I get to enjoy that ride in my mind all the time.

About ten years after that, I was again at the Holiday Motor Excursion. Again there was a Mercer Type 35 Raceabout sitting in the parking lot. This one was the yellow and black most often associated with Type 35 Mercers. It was a car that was brightly polished and had perfect paint. I was again drooling and taking in every detail. As I was doing so, I noticed that the car sat about 1 1/2" lower than it should. "Ah Balaou's car!" A hunched backed giy in a white duster witha roadster capa nd goggles on came up, opened the bonnet, and began to start oiling things under the hood with an oil can. I asked "Sir, are you the owner?" He shook his head yes. I said "O.K." "Sir, is this the car Balaou had made in the 1960's by sectioning a touring car chassis, Moving the suspension points and building a body?" The man turned around, stood up, and I recognized Jay Leno. Jay said "How did you recognize this car?" "The spring shackles are longer than stock, it sat low, I knew that Balaou thought the only thing wrong with the Mercer was that it sat an inch and a half too high, at least thats what the Article in Classic Car said he believed, I never knew him."

'Well this is his car, and you are right, she sits lower than other Mercers, and the shackles are how that was done." Jay took off his glove and shook my hand. He didn't offer me a ride.

How many guys get to see and hear two Mercer type 35's in one lifetime, and get to ride on one?

Altadena Citizen of the year

The question came up this morning "Well how DOES one become the Altadena Citizen of the Year?" That's sort of a complex question. The ACY used to be an honor more or less reserved for a lifetime of work in service to First the Altadena Community, and then in addition,service elsewhere that brought honor to Altadena. SO it used to be that folks like Oscar Werner, Lawrence Lamb (no relation), Delores Hickenbottom, Jaquie Fenessey , and Cue McKenzie got the award, and they got it after making real and generallly agreed upon improvements to Altadena and, also for doing so usually in a classy kind of way.

Generally the Chamber of Commerce takes nominations, and in the old days the Chamber membership voted for the person. Then the vote went to a Committee. This Committee structure in recent years has been kind of a problem.

For at least five years in a row, I nominated Luther Eskijian. Luther was the first Armenian American to have a Architects license in California. He spent a lifetime mentoring young people into the profession, through his church and as a Rotary member. He was a dedicated Rotarian. He designed the Armenian Genocide Museum for free and made a major financial donation for its construction and Luther built many good buildings around town. He did a great deal of good at home and was a credit to Altadena everywhere he went.He was in his 90's when I started nominating him, but he was considered not as worthy as:

A former Altadena Town Council member who while a Councilman was known for angery outbursts, threats, and table pounding. (Go see the video's) His nomination and award stated he was instrumental in the efforts to save Christmas Tree Lane, in 2000, when instead, he actively worked towards no resolution of this issue and attempted to use the difficulties the lane was in then as a method of political revenge (Please don't believe me, ask George Lewis, Max Jouanicot, or Steve Bailey)

Then there were the folks who ran the Lane for several years, never planted a single tree, allowed the infrastructure and lines for the lane to deteriorate and didn't do repairs to anything while operating at a deficit. They did bill the Lane for a lot of work done by their companies.They too were honored, while the folks who took over, got rid of the deficit and put the lane in the black while repairing infrastructure, planting trees, and building lines have been called outright unworthy by the committee.

Hmmmm. One of the "worthies", while still on the Altadena Town Council, did his dead level best to do as much harm to the Lane through governmental process as he could for the first few years after he was removed from the lane. Again, please don't believe me, the 1995 & 1996 ATC tapes are in the Library.

Then there was the guy who was awarded Altadena Citizen of the Year and made his lover sit far away during the ceremony and never so much as even nodded at that person. Yeah, he's gay, but that's sort of a secret and so, at public events, is his lover. When he was deposed from a particular office in town, this person was heard to say in Amy's that he would see to it that the people who took his particular office from him would achieve nothing and that his group would then return to power and exact revenge. SO much for having the interests of Altadena at the center of his "service".(I have a source on that one too, should it be desired)

Those sterling examples of humanity and public service are the very Committee that votes people into the honor. They are all friends and what it takes to be the Altadena Citizen of the Year is to be one of them.

Luther Eskijian who deserved the honor more than any of them, nope.

Sam Walker, likewise, nope.

Eraca Allen, a trail blazer for African-American women in the SGV, nope.

Those folks who actually did rescue and improve CTLA? Oh NEVER.

None of those good folks and many more who were nominated were members of the correct faction, who hypocritically enough are always preaching Altadena "unity". They always speak of Altadena needing to "speak with one voice", not knowing where the idea of a community speaking with "one Voice" came from. (Facist Italy for those who didn't read much source material)

What it seems to take nowadays to be the Altadena Citizen of the Year is a certian lack of achievement and character, coupled with the delusional belief that one is part of a group that is itself the embodyment of Altadena and those necessary for Altadena to do or achieve anything. One must not only be a member of this tribe, but one must also act to supress achievement by any and all others. That's what it takes. I wonder who this years "honoree" will be?

Hot Rod art market?

A few days ago I was helping a friend shoot a hot rod themed movie. I was hanging around because they were borrowing stuff from the "sacred parts piles" in and around my studio. You know the sheet metal and odd mechanical parts that every car freak has and plans to turn into a car "someday". The actors had to know how to look like they were working on my parts and actually knew how to use tools. That was a all show no go situation. Oye.

Anyhow, a lot of folks brought cars and we were trying to find shade and stay out of the shoots and the heat in a place we could chat. I mentioned that it was really strange Street Rodder was getting harder to find, and there seemed to be like 12 new Rat Rod magazines, but they all featured the same cars over and over and over again, and a couple hundred T shirt companies each, very odd, especially since it seemed there were a lot of us middle aged guys still building cars, but not really many new Rat Rods being built. Most of these Rat Rod Magazines had hardly any tech articles either, again very odd. One of the guys piped up

" Oh its not really about the cars, these are LIFESTYLE magazines for young kids running hopped up Honda's. They are wanna be's who wish they could have our old iron, but they don''t have enough money so they never will." He said with considerable condecention. "We old guys are the last real; hot rodders." as he said that, I thought Hey asshole, I used to be that too young kid running a British Sports car, and it took some time but I got the stuff, man. I'm in the middle of building a very esoteric 1912 Ford Speedster of all ancient early California made speed equipment, and a really radical 1940 ford truck project. I got iron, baby!

Then another said "Yeah the diferential in incomes is killing the Hot Rod Art market. I figured there would be this HUGE demand based on the magazine sales, so I bought all this stuff at the Von Dutch auction a couple years age, but now its so expensive none of the kids can buy it, so prices are less than half what they were. It was a bad investment"

Huh? Von Dutch stuff an investment? LOL!! I met Dutch a few times over at Joe Runyan's garage back when I was a kid. Dutch would have just loved the idea of some swell "investing" in his stuff and losing his shirt. LOL. Not because he was cruel, not because he hated rich guys per say, but because his stuff was ART, you moron, not an "investment".

Art you see is something made for the pleasure of the maker and the client. While the artist needs money, it ain't about the money dude, it's about the pleasure the STUFF brings YOU because it touches something inside you. The art is seen within you, sometimes for ages, and then comes forward out of you. Von Dutch investment market? LOL LOL LOL !!!

Myself, I'd love to get some of Dutch's work, not because I'd ever sell it (what are ya kiddin me?) but because I'd like to look at it, fondle it, drool on it and use it, since most of Dutch's "art" was really functional craft. (and if you dont know the difference, you shouldn't be investing in art ,dufus)

But Hot Rod parts and art are made for runnin, not investing, the stuff ain't for that. If you want a investment call your broker. He'll give you some really ugly paper that no one can enjoy with lots of teensie little gray print on it, and if everything works out OK, and usually it doesn't, the profit off that ugly paper can get you some ART. Your soul needs ART not your portfolio. Your portfolio exists to get you stuff like ART. Art does not exist to be part of your portfolio, and if you don't get that, the Art is lost on you, and you should leave it be for someone who gets it. Toad. I hope the "Hot Rod Art Market" keeps dropping so this guy will sell me a couple small Von Dutch tools that I can USE. Investment? Nope.

Time Travel

Somehow an absolute miracle occured this morning. I was driving Josephine (The 1938 Buick named for Josephine Baker) west to East across Foothill Boulevard. Somehow, at a steady 37 or so MPH I hit every green light and as I rolled along on the cloud of Josephines tires and suspension, time seemed to enter another dimension, I could see things as they were long ago.

Of course, maybe this only worked for me, as my father has described this area in his childhood, and it has changed radically even from my own. In my father's time this part of Fooothill was WAY WAY out of town, as a child it seemed to him to be a long drive as a passenger in his Father's 1933 Dodge. In those days foothill was a two lane road and the area east of what is now Altadena drive was walnut groves, fruit packing houses and chicken and turkey farms. According to Dad, his mother had some relatives, exactly how they were related he no longer remembers, aunt & uncle, second cousin, something like that,an older couple who owned a house, a couple of barns and a large area of land where they grew chickens, turkeys and some produce near the South West corner of Foothill and Rosemead. They sold live birds, butchered birds and eggs, along with some produce. During WW2 they sold and moved to teh San Fernando Valley. Dad visited them there once, he recalls.

When I was a young child there was a famous seafood restaurant near there, then a gas station, now a harbor frieght.
But this morning at that steady thirty seven miles an hour in the light traffic, I could see the past and present together. I could smell the sage on the breeze, I could see clapboard farm houses and board and batt barns as ghosts back of all the newer stuff. I could see golden grasses dry in the early summer and even smell the Chicken farm,chickens and chicken fertilizer...

That was a time when most of the food grown in the San Gabriel Valley was grown near home. I can remember as a child, when about a third of our food was still local. My Grandparents would drive out to Azusa and buy fresh eggs, there was our famous local sage/orange blossom honey, chickens were local, and while not in this valley, hogs were from Fontana in my youth. In Altadena when I was a child we grew our own vegetables, squash and fruit. We traded with friends and neighbors, who did the same, and there was an amazing abundance.

I can remember that there was a area on the South side of Foothill just beyond sears were there were no homes well past Anokia, just a couple of small farms, one abandoned, one still working when I was young. That all got developed about 1970, and now it seems as if it has always been there, but it hasn't.

So, the San Gabriel Valley settled by second sons of the midwest who would not inherit the wheat and corn farms, became a center of fruit ,vegitables, dairy farms, and the production of Chicken and Turkeys. My own house built in 1906, was a part of the Carl Curtis Chicken ranch, and the home across the street was the main house to a ranch belonging to his sister and her husband. The farms gave way to industry, and then aerospace and now commercial sales. A whole population making its living selling Mc Donnal's burgers and Starbucks coffee to each other, but not growing or producing any products. Well, Starbucks is a lot easier work than chickens.

But what of that economy where chicken dung fertilized avacado and citrus groves? Where SGV honey was considered the best in the world? Where the Pasadena Motorcycle Club held the first motorcycle drag races in the world in an orange grove?

I came home after running my errands and picked a lovely valencia, an orange with too thin a skin to ship too far, but a flavor unequaled. I ate the fantastic flavor my Great Grandparents generation planted and that was my grandparents birthright. It was sweet, yet full of acid, rich complex and delightful like the cool early summer Southern California sky. I've got a place in the yard where I don't want to tend grass. I think I'll plant boyesenberries, they too are disappearing.

Patriotism

It's a Presidential Election year. A lot of people are comparing, evaluating and attempting to define Patriotism. In this context, only the most base and vulgar form of patriotism, the kind that Dr. Johnson was speaking of, when he said it was the refuge of scoundrels. All slogans, threats, flag lapel pins and calls for someone else to bear the costs while the speaker bears the benefits of society.

There is another form of Patriotism. It is less popular because before it can appeal to emotion it demands thinking, reason and reasoning, and forsight. It is the Patriotism that voluntarily puts the needs and benefit to the Country ahead of the needs and benefits to self. It is teh Patriotism not of self enrichment but of sacrifice. You don't hear much about it these days.

It's a Patriotism that doesn't export jobs overseas for the highest possible personal or corporate profit while unemploying fellow Citizens.

It's the Patriotism that pays Citizens a decent living wage, rather than rely on exploitave labor for illegal aliens.

It's the patriotism that doesn't clear cut forests, but leaves forest for your childrens childrens childrens children, so that they too can share in your birthright as a American.

It's the Patriotism that taxes itself to build mass transpotation and bridges.

It's the Patriotism that seeks to restore the farmlands top soil.

It's the Patriotism that speaks out against friend and foe alike when they are profiting at the nations expense.

It's the Patriotism that believe in the Right to Free Speech even when those speaking are lying against you, or are just wrong. that believes freedom of assembly applies to those who gather for Causes one does not approve of, who believes in Freedom of the Press for those who refuse to know or tell the truth, in freedom to be secure in your papers effects and even computer for those society considers disreputable ,as well as for oneself. Its the Patriotism that believes in the Right to Keep and Bear Arms for every citizen, not just teh "ones like me".

It's the Patriotism that believes until all our Citizens are free and equal under the Law, none of us is free, and will step up to do something about it.

It's the Patriotism that's expensive, because what it protects is more valuable than what it costs.

Judith Zitter RIP

I first met Judith, and she never was Judy, about thirty years ago in Pasadena. I don't remember the issue, I know it was a environmental one.

Judith had an engaging personality, a quick wit, a curious mind, a desire to know everything, and an incredible memory. She could also use them all to cross link data into a matrix and think "outside of the box" (before that was a overused and untrue mantra) . Judith also had the best collection of womens power suits I have ever seen, somehow totally appropriate, feminine and somehow authoritarian all at the same time. Eventually Judith went to work for then Pasadena City Councilman Rick Cole, and I ,needing more than my fair share of abuse, got myself elected to the Altadena Town Council.

Councilman Cole in those days had well researched and interesting positions. I won't say this was entirely due to Judith, but after she left his employ, the quality of his inititives did seem to me, to suffer. I lost track of Judith somewhere in all the years studying LaVina's hydroligy, Forest Service Law, Army Corps of Engineers regulations, subdivision map acts, endless hearings and all that stuff that was the LaVina decade.

Every once and again, when I was down sluming in Pasadena City Hall, I'd ask about what ever happened to Judith, but no one seemed to know.

Years later, I became one of the regularly featured artists at Altadena's Underground Arts Society. A young (then)High School Kid named Joseph Dahli hung out with us. His Mother, was a incredible cook, and would often supply the Underground openings with unbelievably fantastic and delightful morsels of food, and God bless her, large quantities of the stuff, too. Anyhow, young Mr. Dahli invited a bunch of UASer's to a family Christmas party a few years ago. We were maybe dumb enough to be artists, but not stupid enough to turn down food from Mrs. Dahli's kitchen.

There at the party helping to distribute food was a oddly familiar looking shorter woman. She had on a very well made dark navy suit. I could not quite place her. At one point she walked up to me and said, "Well, Mr. Lamb, arn't you going to say hello?" I paniced..Had I forgotten a constituant? When I looked into the face of this short person, I recognized Judith, and I managed to say "Judith?" without saying "what the hell happened to you?" Sometimes your angels really can run fast enough to shut your mouth before you really mess up.

Judith knew what I was thinking. She said "I've been fighting breast cancer, I've had kemo, it's been a long fight" How do you respond to that? I've never found a graceful way, and I don't remember what I said next, but I know it wasn't graceful, and that Judith was.

We changed the subject. I discovered Judith enjoyed cooking. We began in on Water and Water usage issues, and of course how these and Land Policy related to food. Judith seemed delighted to not be talking about her lost height, the next round of treatment, her prognosis. We spoke of old battles, of old ideas, of lost mutual friends like Hari Khalsa and his fantastic way of geographic recall of data in books, we fixed many of the worlds problems, we laughed. We hoped the land would be better off someday. We promised to keep in touch.

We never did.

Joseph, now a art student in Laguna, called the other day. After a long battle with Cancer, the Bastard won, and Judith lost. That old poets phrase about the loss of another human is a loss to all mankind of incredible yet unknowable proportion, again seems the largest reality. Her mind so brilliant, her love for the Earth and Mankind what made and informed her activism, taken from the fight early and unfairly.

Rest In Peace, Judith Zitter.

Warning Yoda...

I love fireworks. I just think they are the grandest things man has ever made, even neater than a deep deep tripple black 1937 supercharged Cord convertable...

Ok I admit I can't stand the nit wits who seem to have a need to take perfectly good fountians, M-80's, sparklers, bottle rockets and roman candles and do irresponsible stuff like throw them at other people, roofs, houses passing cars, you know the kind of behavior that makes one wonder "What is this moron using for a brain, anyhow?" Of course another part of my dislike for these mental midgets is that they have ruined the 4th of July for us reponsible fireworks enjoyers by making laws to protect us against the numb heads necessary. Damn them!!!!

Yeah fireworks are illegal, forbidden to us law abiding folks verbotten und Badd according to all the fire and police agencies. Sadly, here in Altadena this is not something that concerns Mr. and Mrs. Numbnuts. They seem to have all kinds of goodies and are already starting to light them off today on the 2nd of July.

This causes no end of discomfort to my cat Yoda. Not only must Yoda endure all kinds of noise from explosions, but I am busily watering everything in site, the yard, the house, the fence, the gates, the trees, attempting to protect my property from the idiot patrol on July 4th while I wont be here, but will be with family friends in a city where "Safe and Sane" fireworks are legal, and where my Father, Brother and I will be teaching my Brothers kids to responsibly and safely use fireworks.

Yoda hates the 4th, the noise that shatter her kitty ears,my endless watering, the smoke and fire everywhere, and the fact that the poor thing must endure it all alone, because I can not stand to miss lighting fireworks on the 4th, nor can I stand to watch the idiot patrol near my house working hard on burning the whole neighborhood down while proving that indeed some people really are not ready for self government.These people flinging lit Roman Candles over the roof tops not only scare me, they make me want to protect life limb and property with my .45. Jeanette thinks it's better if I water the yard extensively and we go somewhere else.
I think its the proving themselves not worthy of Democracy that upsets me so,even more than the potential to burn down teh whole town- but this concept is lost on Yoda, Democracy does not concern her. In any case the two things are indeed closely related.

Yoda is frightened her long grass that she hides and plays in will be either mowed down by me as a protection or burned up along with her world and her, by the nit wit contingent. Of course, were folks responsible, measured and careful in their back yards with fireworks, as we will be in that legal city, Yoda would be just as unhappy, but I sure would enjoy the 4th of July a lot more, and at home too. Oh well...paradise lost is the story of Southern California...