Noir Interlude...

Just a little noir photo safari ... from Pasadena, through downtown LA, across mid city, over to Culver City, creeping into the west side and Santa Monica.

(I'm inspired, as you might guess, by this guy.)

Music: 2 Die 4 by Jeff Oster

Welcoming Entrance...

Pasadena and South Pasadena have some of the most charming homes.  This one is right on the border, so I'm not sure which city can actually claim it, but it sure has a friendly vibe.

Seen in Pasadena

This sign brought to us by either a very considerate film crew, or a very clever terrorist.

Freeway Noir

Carpooling?  Picture taking.  On the 134 between Pasadena and Burbank you'll find this overpass.  (It looks moody in black and white on a cloudy day.)

Along the Arroyo Seco

Where can you find hawks, hiking trails, stables, canopied streets and glorious sunset views?  Just ten minutes from downtown Los Angeles along the historic Arroyo Seco.

Come along with me for a photo tour of the scenery.

Looking Up and Around...

It's been a mild-mannered winter around here.  Here are a few views from the San Gabriel Valley as we head into spring...

Musing on Sam Francis' Basel Mural I at the Norton Simon in Pasadena

Lucky for me, I live in a place where masterpieces are literally minutes away from home. Here, at the Norton Simon in Pasadena, Sam Francis' Basel Mural I offers a beautiful, expressive focal point.

Some people meditate for clarity, but I like to stare at something like this to sort out the big questions of life. And, like meditation, staring at artwork often brings surprising revelations.

I've always been partial to Francis, and not just because of his expansive visual style. He belonged to the same era as my father. They were both born in California, both joined the Army Air Corps during World War 2. My father was fortunate enough to serve his time in the Pacific without any physical injuries, but Francis was badly hurt during training maneuvers and spent three years recuperating in bed.

During his recovery, Francis learned to paint. He used his new hobby as an escape as well as an expression. I remember once showing my father a print of a Francis painting. I don't recall if it was the one in today's post, but it was similar in its wild explosions of noisy color. I saw infinite optimism and potential when I looked at it.

"Interesting that he was in the Air Corps," Dad said. "This painting kind of reminds me of what the ground looks like after a bombing mission."

Ever since that conversation I can't look at anything by Sam Francis without thinking of my dad.

In Francis' last years, as he was suffering from cancer and clinging to life, a bad fall took away the use of his right hand. Like so many of his generation, he didn't let the setback stop him from achieving his goals. He simply used his left hand to create a series of brilliant small works.

That also reminded me of Dad. No matter how badly my father's body fell apart during the last years of his life, he was undaunted and without complaint. He might not have painted canvases, but he filled our family's world with great beauty all the same.

When my family and I first visited the Norton Simon a few years ago, I stopped for a while to look at this familiar painting. I was about 15 years older than the last time I saw it. I still found the optimism there that spoke to me in my youth, but I could also imagine the world it brought back to my father.

"What do you think of this one?" I asked my daughter.

"It looks like a map of a sad place," she said. "But it's hopeful too. I'm not sure why."

And right then, I realized how weirdly connected families are ... how my little girl not only saw what I saw in that painting, but also the impressions of her grandfather who died before she was born.

"Or," she said walking away, "Maybe he just liked paint splatters."

Art. It transforms, connects and heals. (And sometimes even makes us laugh.)

Joy Ride through South Pasadena

Click full screen if you're watching this on a computer!

When I first moved to South Pasadena almost 8 years ago, I noticed that old buildings and heritage trees were not the only historic reminders of the past.  The town has a LOT of vintage cars.  Hang out in front of Busters on a weekend afternoon and you’ll see a promenade of enough old roadsters, coupes and muscle cars to satisfy even the most persnickety car buff.  I’m not just talking about your standard issue American Graffiti-worthy hot rods, either.  I’ve spotted a late 1930s Peugot 402, 1949 Hudson Commodore and a mysterious, black sedan that confounded two car aficionados arguing about it nearby. (One insisted it was an unmarked 1939 Cadillac.  The other swore it was a Citroen Traction Avant.)

It’s not surprising that South Pasadena, Pasadena and the surrounding areas have so many examples of our driving history.  The area has always held a prominent spot in the changing landscape of Southern California transportation.   Back at the turn of the 20^th Century, the horseless carriage was considered no more than an amusement created by eccentrics.  The future, according to those in the know, would not be paved with asphalt but rather etched in rail.

In 1901, Henry Huntington incorporated the Pacific Electric Railway Company and began work on what would eventually develop into the largest interurban electric rail system in the world.  One of the main hubs was Oneonta Station, located at the corner of present-day Huntington Drive and Fair Oaks in South Pasadena.  This spot marked the junction of the Pasadena Short Line and the Monrovia line, two of the most important Big Red Car trolley routes.   Within a few decades, a huge network of trains and streetcars wound their way through Southern California, connecting Los Angeles, Orange, Ventura, San Bernardino and Riverside counties.  The system was hailed as the one to copy, and reporters all over the world began to refer to Los Angeles as a mecca of reliable public transportation.  South Pasadena was at the heart of it all.

But by the mid-1920s, those reliable trolleys had been upstaged by Henry Ford’s mass-produced, reasonably-priced automobiles.  No longer a carnival curiosity or novelty, the personal car was becoming a viable means of transportation.  By the time the Model T was discontinued in 1927, Ford had sold some 15 million cars – many to Southern California residents.  San Gabriel Valley contractors had a huge upsurge in business as local homeowners tore down carriage houses to build carports and garages.  The trolleys might have been efficient and dependable, but the mild SoCal climate tempted residents to put the top down and cruise around.

While the Red Car line continued for several more decades, it was no match for our region’s growing obsession with cars.  Little by little, rail rights of way were lost to the roads.  Once again, South Pasadena was part of an enormous transportation shift when the Arroyo Parkway – now known as the 110 or Pasadena Freeway – opened in December of 1940.  Similar to how the rails had once made South Pasadena , the Arroyo Parkway etched the city forever into the region’s road maps.  “Travel down the Arroyo Parkway,” on reporter wrote, “and you’ll end up in the fairest city of all: South Pasadena.” 

Although the Pennsylvania Turnpike had opened a few months earlier, many historians argue that the Arroyo Parkway more closely matches the definition of an actual freeway.  Hailed at the time as a marvel of motoring, the sleek, well-paved Parkway offered South Pasadenans and neighboring residents the chance to open up their vehicles full-throttle and travel at top speeds.  Connecting downtown LA with Pasadena along the Arroyo Seco, the parkway was revolutionary because engineers had designed the gently curving road to accommodate modern speeds up to a dizzying 45 miles per hour. 

The 110 we know today is almost identical to the one that beckoned South Pasadena car lovers 60 years ago, with modern SUVs whipping over those 45 mph curves at speeds the original engineers would never have believed possible.   It is a National Scenic Byway, a National Civil Engineering Landmark and a State Scenic Highway.  And if you sit at the overlook on Arroyo Drive and watch the traffic flow, you’ll see a lot of vintage cars heading to and from South Pasadena. 

Every September, South Pasadena puts its love of classic cars on display by hosting the Cruz’N For Roses Hot Rod and Classic Car Show.  There, local car owners are joined by hundreds of others around the region in a display of enough steel, chrome and shiny paint to make the most jaded gearhead swoon.  Proceeds of the event go toward South Pasadena’s Tournament of Roses Parade float.

The original owners of those vintage cars discovered something that is still true today: when you’re behind the wheel on the open road, it’s not always about the destination.  Most of the fun is in getting there.  

(Car buffs, be sure to check out this great historical footage of the original Ford assembly line.)

A modified version of this post originally appeared in my former column for Patch.  

Noir Interlude #1

Just a little noir photo safari ... from Pasadena, through downtown LA, across mid city, over to Culver City, creeping into the west side and Santa Monica.

(I'm inspired, as you might guess, by this guy.)

Music: 2 Die 4 by Jeff Oster