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November 06 Prostate procedure updateFriends, I recently had a TURP procedure performed by Dr. Alex Weinstein at Urology Specialists of Santa Barbara Urology Specialists of Santa Barbara: My symptoms were frequent urination, low flow and volume, intermittent flow etc. At my first appointment it was determined that my prostate was blocking urine flow to the point that my bladder would not empty and urine was backing up into my kidneys. My bladder had become hyper extended and was losing performance. I was immediately put on a full time catheter to drain off my bladder and begin decompression process. Some 5 days later surgery was performed. After surgery I still had to self catheter for about 10 days till my bladder began to function more normally. My kidneys appear to have fully recovered and I no longer need to self catheter. Other than retrograde ejaculation (semen goes into the bladder, rather than out the penis, due to surgery interrupting normal function of the bladder neck.) This has not been an issue for me, though it takes some psychological adjustment. It’s possible orgasm may not be quite as intense, but I am not sure of this. There are other possible down side effects that you should be aware of, though I have not experienced any of them. On the good side, I am sleeping better at night, urine flow and bladder emptying is very good to excellent. No cancer was found in my bladder or prostate. No further surgery should be needed for the foreseeable future and I don’t need to take any medications. I am very pleased with the results of this procedure! There are many other treatment options which may be more appropriate for your situation. Often it is as simple as “watch and wait”. I strongly urge my friends to see a urologist on at least an annual basis for a digital exam and PSA test at a minimum. Other tests as recommended by your urologist. There are many other options available depending on your individual circumstance. Please visit the following web sites for additional information and to perhaps make an appointment to see a urologist. I’m sure you will be glad you took these precautionary steps.
Home: http://www.santabarbaraurology.com/index.shtmlServices http://www.santabarbaraurology.com/services.shtmlTreatment options; side effects: http://www.urologychannel.com/prostate/bph/treatment_surg.shtmlPlease ask me if you have any questions. Steve skc@cox.net 805 566 4710October 09 Prostate surgerySunday, September 20, 2009 Sunday, September 20, 2009 To: Whom it may concern From Steve Close RE: Superlative health care in Santa Barbara. Due to a problem with frequent night urination, I made a request on Tuesday, September 15, 2009 to see a Urologist at the Urology Center in Santa Barbara, CA. I was subsequently scheduled to see Dr. Weinstein at 1100 AM on Weds 9-16. Dr. Weinstein made a preliminary diagnosis that urine flow was partially blocked by an enlarged prostate. Appointments were made for that afternoon for a blood panel to determine kidney function at Pacific Diagnostic Labs and for an ultrasound exam of kidneys and bladder at Cottage Center For Advanced Imaging. The results of these tests were completed and sent to Dr. Weinstein by 400PM that same afternoon. Based on these tests and a more complete exam by Dr. Weinstein, surgery was scheduled to be performed the following Monday at Cottage Hospital. An appointment was scheduled for 9-18 pre op information at Cottage Hospital at 200PM. The volunteer coordinator was very friendly and efficient as she coordinated my visit to lab for blood and other tests, to the person in charge of collecting insurance information and to a nurse who ran some tests and gave me information on what to expect on surgery day. Again everyone was friendly, conscientious and efficient in completing their tasks. I was through with this phase of preparation by 400PM. Throughout this speedy process, all health care providers and their staff were friendly, efficient and competent. In the days leading up to my operation, Dr. Weinstein promptly answered my numerous e mails re the procedure and addressed all my concerns. I couldn’t have asked for better service. Monday Sept 21 arrived at Cottage at 700 AM for surgery. Waiting was minimal and surgery began approximately 930 AM. Operation went well according to Dr. Weinstein who continues to be a 5 star physician in re communication, diligence and skill. Hospital staff were attentive and caring. I was released approximately 130PM Tuesday afternoon. The only revelation and minor set back is that my bladder has become enlarged over time. This means despite a now clear open urine pathway, my bladder does not void completely. I have been instructed in how to self catheterize, and it’s hoped within a few weeks my bladder will function normally. 9/27/09 I have been self catheterizing since Tuesday 9-22-09. The last day or two I’ve noticed dramatic improvement in that I am emptying my bladder more completely naturally and catheterizing significantly less volume. This suggests my bladder is functioning better, day by day. Dr. Weinstein said when I catheter less than 200-225ml consistently, I may be able to stop. This testifies to the body’s miraculous ability to heal itself with help from excellent doctors and staff utilizing the latest medical technologies. 10/8/2009 Since entry of 9/27, self catheters produced less urine to the point of typically below 50 mls. I tapered off the procedure to less than once a day. Appointment with Dr. Weinstein today revealed that my kidneys and bladder were healthy and functioning normally. No further need to self catheter. Will have follow up exam Jan 13, 2010. I couldn’t be more pleased with my rapid health recovery and with superb health service provided by Dr. Weinstein, et al. Steve Close You may know I recently underwent prostate surgery to clear pathway for urine flow and related problems. No cancer, no need to remove prostate. My appointment with Dr. Weinstein today revealed healthy and normal function of my kidneys and bladder. No need to self catheter, as everything is now functioning normally. I couldn't be more pleased with the outcome. Don't hesitate to see a urologist if you ever experience problems in that regard. I'm back on the bike; standing position only ;) Steve Close
February 02 Village Stories by Valborg Close c. 1948Excerpt from Village Stories For Village Children by Valborg D. (Bobby) Close circa 1948 About Steve On this day Stevie’s mother gave Stevie 2 sugar lumps for him, and 2 sugar lumps for Happy, and 2 sugar lumps for Hughie. But Stevie couldn’t find Hughie and Happy. He ate all the sugar lumps himself. Later he found Hughie and Happy. He asked his mother for more sugar lumps. His mother said, “No, you ate theirs, and now it is time for lunch. We are going to eat lunch with Don and his mother.” Stevie was very cross. He wanted the sugar lumps. He didn’t want to eat lunch away from home. His mother told him, “You may eat lunch at home and take your nap. But I will have lunch with Don’s mother.” Stevie would not eat lunch. So his mother put him in his bunk bed and went to Don’s home. When she came home, Stevie was on his sister’s big bed asleep. His face had tear streaks all over it. Beside him was his big dog. She lay close to him. She looked at Stevie in a sad way. She would not leave Stevie, or wag her tail. Her face said “You are a bad mother.” Then Stevie’s mother patted the dog and kissed Stevie. Stevie woke up and smiled, and the dog wagged her tail. Christmas Letter 20082008 Steve’s Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah Letter Holiday Greetings All, Accomplishment is subjective, temporal and overrated. I have kept a “to do” list since my early 20’s. I found it was the best way to avoid continuously thinking all the things I wanted to accomplish over the next day or two. For decades this list was at least a half page long (steno pad) with a half dozen-dozen or more pressing tasks to do “that day”. I would fill a page every day or two and when the jobs were done and crossed off I’d start a new page. I’d go through a steno book about every month or two as testament to a busy lifestyle. When I sold the ranch, the list became much shorter. Yet there were things to do and the notebook was still useful. The past few months however, my ambitions hit an all time low. I write down the same mundane things every day: dog (walk) ride (bike), fish (feed), clean bike and little more. Of course it’s absurd to write down the same thing day after day, but I do it from habit and for the occasional added item or appointment. I like to see the familiar notepad on my desk, check it and cross off the “jobs”,, even the silly ones.
Mind you I am not unhappy or bored. My days are filled doing the things I enjoy: riding my bike, going to 24 Hour Fitness, coffee , reading or visiting at Starbucks, walking my dog and frankly, little else of consequence. I cannot think of how I might improve the status quo. Move somewhere else? Impossible to improve on present location. Get a job? LOL! Relationship? Tango (dog), friends and extended family sufficient. Volunteer, charity work? No good deed goes unpunished. I am in a word, content. My only lament: I cannot mark time in this good moment. Suggested epitaph: He squandered his life having fun. Time line 2008 February 11, 2008 Beloved cousin John Hale passed away in Austin, Texas, age 80. February 14-16 Trip to Austin for John’s Memorial Service in Marble Falls Texas. John’s Daughter Betty and Sister Martha in attendance. April 1 Eligible for Medicare at age 65 April 11 Greg Robin (SBCC 1985 cross country team mate) and I visit Dave Williams (1990’s YMCA swimming friend) at Mission Terrace Convalescent Hospital. Dave diagnosed with brain tumor in September 2007. April 11 Multiple April Birthdays celebrated at Chad’s with Verity Allen (1980‘s running friend), Bill Siemens (1990’s YMCA pal) and others. April 13th Team Chicken Ranch BBQ at Steve Daniel’s. April 16th Visited mid 1960’s college roommate Mike Largent in Carmel Valley. April 17th Sea Otter RR. A-fibbed near race start hampering performance. One and only bike race in 08. Hope to race more in 09; a fibs now in remission. April 26 c. 800AM Dave Williams passed away at age 51 at Sarah’s House. May 4 Early 1980’s pilot friend Larry Kostroski flies in from Tucson in his Beech Bonanza. Late dinner at the Elephant Bar. May 5 Breakfast at Jeannine’s with Corey and Larry; Larry and I visited former Toro Canyon neighbor and Kostroski employer Kerby Spicer (Late 70’s Toro Canyon neighbor) at Transpac Marine, Kerby’s shop since 1956. May 8 Dave Williams Memorial at Shoreline Park attended by me and about 100 of his admiring friends. May 16 Long Beach mid 1960’s era friend Tony Corona called to report mutual friend Larry Martinez was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. June 9 I buy a mint 1994 Dodge Stealth RT with 54,500 miles in Irvine, CA. June 11 Swedish friend 1969-70 Agneta Holm vacations in Victoria, BC. July 11 Niece Jo Ellen Samson (Tennyson) visits me in Santa Barbara. Lunch at the Fish Enterprise. July 19 MOD (Mitsubishi Owner’s Day) in La Mirada. Friends Larry and Nancy Martinez, Tony and BJ Corona, April Allegro, Chuck Heidbrink, Bruce Lemmon and Hank Levin attend. Late lunch at Polly’s Pies. July 20 Batman movie with Susan Farber, cycling friend. July 22-25 Trip to Austin to see Betty and Marty, help with John’s personal effects. August 5 Ventura County Fair with 1961-62 Army buddy Arnold Ouslander. Fabulous performance by Suzanne Somers. August 20 I visit Jim Otto, Baldwin Hills Grammar School friend. We visit his Mom Marie in San Marcos. August 22-24 1970’s Long Beach handball friend Bruce Lemmon visits. August 23 House warming party at Corey and Gwendolyn Welles house at Cate School. Aaron Long, Bruce Lemmon, Dave Lettiere’s parents in attendance. August 30-September 4 Labor day visit to Todd Tennyson’s. Jo, Amy and Beth, children and husbands in attendance. Observation of EJ Tennyson’s passing on Sept. 2, 2007. September 26 Festive Team Chicken Ranch (Cycling team) party at Cabrillo Pavilion. September 29 Larry Martinez passed away in Mexico from a brain tumor c age 67. October 8 Jim Otto visits for the day. We went to 24 Hour Fitness in AM, had lunch at Chipotle’s and visited my old ranch. Tango had a great time; ran like a bullet from the saddle to the exit gate; needed the rest of the day to recover. November 11th Per Jensen, pilot friend from the Long Beach 60’s visits. Lunch at Brophy’s (as usual) with Per’s friend, retired UAL pilot, Phil. We tour the Marina after lunch. November 26-28 Thanksgiving in Las Vegas with Ginny and Harvey Ruffin, and Laurie, Mark and Jake Harner. Drove new Dodge Stealth. Unprecedented rain. Bicycled Red Rock Canyon. November 30 1970’s Health Department friend Clete Hilliker checked in after a long absence. December 5 Alex Briscoe, ranch purchaser, called to say how much he loves my former land. He tells his 2 year old son “Steve planted all those trees (on impossible hillsides)”. Then they enthusiastically agree “Steve was crazy!” It’s pleasing to have sold my land to someone appreciative of my efforts and enthused about continuing the legacy. December 20 Joyful Hanukah celebration with Amy Kornberg’s (Tennyson) in laws in Westwood. My first visit since Amy/Scott wedding 19 years ago. Reacquainted with Scott’s Dad and Mom, Maurice and Louise (Holocaust survivors-4 years Auschwitz and Dachau), Scott’s Brother Howard; Howard’s Wife Iris and their children Matt, Seana and Allison (twins) , and Scott’s Sister Marion. Amy and Scott’s children (my Grandnephews and Grandniece), Zak, Micah and Isabelle also present. Humble respects to Maurice and Louise for overcoming unthinkable obstacles to raise such a fine family. December 23 A most excellent 50th Birthday party for cycling buddy Gene Raphelian at his Montecito home. 80+ must be the new 60+ judging by the vigorous and youthful appearing Gene R parents, Harvey Ruffin and the aforementioned Kornberg parents. December 28 Major crash during polo field sprint. I wasn’t involved but about 6 riders went down hard. Ambulance required, but no life threatening injuries apparent. Dangerous sport at times, but too exhilarating to quit. Wish me luck and hope for the best! December 31, Jan 1, 2009 Plan to visit Bruce Lemmon and tour Long Beach, my home town 1964-79. January 1, 2009 Plan to join “mega” New Year’s Day bike ride beginning in Belmont Shore. Mini reunion at Hof’s Hut, Long Beach Marina, approximately 2PM. All are invited. Steve August 10 DennisDennis (3 short Adventures) Adventure #1: Becoming A Man When I was 17, my Mom spoke admiringly about Dennis, the son of a friend of hers. Naturally, without ever having met him, I had an instant dislike for him. My parents split in 1960 and Mom and I moved to The Stardust at 3838 Gibraltar Avenue. This was a cheesy downstairs apartment in a new development Southwest of Coliseum and La Brea in L.A. The L.A. post war building boom produced many such slipshod tracts in it’s expanding suburbs. A rectangular box with 30 units, underground parking, a few plants, a swimming pool, thin walls and ceilings. One could hear his neighbor fart. I once poked a hole in the ceiling with a broom handle trying to get the neighbors upstairs to quiet down. It was a huge step down from the Village Green, built with careful planning and prideful workmanship, just prior to WW11. Dennis lived with his Mom and Sister, Susan in an apartment next to ours, and we eventually met. Despite my initial jealousy, I immediately hit it off with Dennis. He was enthusiastic, smiley, intelligent, observant, knowledgeable, and funny as hell. He also seemed worldly, having knowledge of women and had served in the military. As I prepared to go into basic training in the Winter of 1962, I was insecure about my chastity. I didn’t want to be the only guy in the Army who was still a virgin. As I was basically too shy to even talk to a girl, Dennis and I decided we could go to Tijuana to bring me up to speed. Though I was terrified at the prospect, I feigned enthusiasm and agreed. Thus, the summer of 1961, we took off in my 1955 blue and white Pontiac two door sedan and drove to the Mexican border. Once there, Dennis was his usual effervescing, grinning, kidding around self. I put on the face, but was still nervous as hell. I wanted to “become a man”, but not necessarily this way, or then. At some point a taxi driver approached us and asked if we wanted some “girls”. Dennis laughed and enthusiastically said yes. My heart sank. We got into the cab and drove to a seedy building somewhere in TJ. We were led into a courtyard and several women came out. We were told we could pick whomever we wanted, but instead two women chose us. Unfortunately mine was not so hot. Despite my protestations, she led me to a tiny “room” with a single bed in it. The “door” was a flimsy curtain that didn’t even reach the floor. I’ll spare further details, but suffice to say, I didn’t truly become a man that day. Instead, I ended up feeling sorry for the young Mexican girl and she ended up feeling sorry for me. Adventure #2: My First Drink Because my Mom and Dad both at one time had drinking problems, I was not a fan of alcohol. As a teenager, I thought of going to the liquor store with a shotgun to blast all the bottles because of what alcohol did to my parents. Despite this prejudice, there came a time over at Dennis’ apartment, I decided I’d like to try it, just to see. I was not coaxed into it by Dennis or his Sister Susan who was there also at the time. I suppose they just went along with my desire to learn. They broke out a fifth of their Mom’s Vodka and said this would be the easiest to drink because you could not taste it in Orange Juice. So they made me a Screwdriver. I took a sip and contrary to claims, I thought it tasted awful. The alcohol was nasty. Still, over a few minutes I managed to get the drink down. After a few more minutes, I began to feel absolutely wonderful! Wow, this was great. I soon demanded more Vodka. This time without the Orange Juice. I simply chugged it straight out of the bottle, and the taste didn’t bother me at all. We went outside for a moment and I remember climbing stairs, light and sure footed. The world was a beautiful place, Wow! After just a few more minutes, I began to feel not so well. I went back to my place next door to lie down. Dennis followed and noticed I had a late 50’s model Pentron reel to reel tape recorder, I’d bought from a guy at Sutton’s Service Station. He thought it would be cool to record me being drunk, so he did. I was lying on the sofa, when I suddenly felt sick. I tried to stand, but couldn’t. I rolled off the bed to my hands and knees and tried to crawl, but I couldn’t. All I could do was vomit, right there, on the carpet. I gazed down into the mess and stated: “cookies, my favorite frood”, much to Dennis’s delight. Later, with great amusement, we played that over and over. Adventure #3 I Did Inhale I was living in Long Beach, going to LB State, when I returned to LA to visit the Luftigs, c 1965. Pot, formerly very taboo, was gaining popularity among the youth of the day. I had never tried it, but was not against it when Dennis and Susan offered. I wasn’t a smoker, but given a brief demonstration, I eagerly inhaled and held in the smoke as instructed. I puffed and drew a few times and waited for something to happen. After several minutes, I wasn’t aware of any change at all. However I got hungry and was offered milk and chocolate cake. Wow, I couldn’t believe how tasty and how hungry I must have been. Best cake and milk I ever had! Still, I was disappointed that the pot seemed to have no effect whatsoever. After the snack, I bid Luftigs goodbye, and drove off in my 1955 Buick Special. Going through the first dip in the road, I was somewhat alarmed at how slowly, quietly and deeply the car seemed to soar over this bump. I began to pay more attention and when the car seemed to float through the air when passing over subsequent dips in the intersections, I realized the pot was having a drastic, if not unpleasant effect, on my senses. When I turned left off Stevely west on Coliseum, I thought I’d better pull off the road to assess my motor skills. I got out and walked to the grass on the parkway. My reactions and balance seemed OK. I felt I could easily compensate for my altered perceptions, now that I understood. I then fell to the ground, euphoric, and laughed for a few seconds. Then I thought it would be best to not draw attention to myself, so I jumped into the Buick and drove home, uneventfully. END
July 21 MOD July 19, 2008MOD JULY 19 2008 New people: Michael and GF with black GTO. Cheerful, friendly young Japanese-American couple. Mike from outside of Phoenix AZ with white Stealth. Met his brother from Murietta who also owned a Stealth Dave 63 originally from East LA, cool guy Tom with Blue Stealth Gullwing doors. Organizer, leader will head up Vegas show in October. Patrick with sharp Red 1999VR-4 w/11,000 miles and new custom engine. Patrick career Army. Major, Armored, with bronze star for two recent tours in Iraq. Plucky Larry made it to show despite recent surgery and rounds of radiation. Still had his wit and humor, 100%. Nancy charming as ever and in good spirits. TEE looking good with full head of wavy gray hair and smooth olive skin. BJAE smiling, glowing full of good cheer. Chuck, a loyal friend since Kindergarten. Has grown stout. Memory keen, a good story teller of many interesting tales of the past. April petite, smiley friendly as ever. Bruce recovering from surgery on nose for Melanoma. He looks slim and fit. Unobtrusive bandage over nose in place till Dr’s are sure all sign of cancer is gone. Prognosis is favorable. Hank looks and acts much younger than his 72 years. Still has his zany sense of humor. Everyone got along well. Reunion a rousing success. I am a lucky man to be able to call these good people among my best friends and have them come to meet me after a lengthy passage of time.
June 13 1994 Dodge Stealth R/T Twin TurboSaturday May 8 I was looking at ads on AutoTrader. I spotted a new listing for a 1994 Dodge Stealth R/T Turbo, one of 924 manufactured that year. It had less than 54,000 miles, one owner the past 11 years, always garaged, asking price $9,995. It appeared to be a good deal. I called the owner in Irvine, CA, and made an appointment to see the car Monday the 9th. I arrived about 11:30 AM Monday AM to see the car and the moment I set eyes on it, I was all but convinced I would buy it. The owner gave me a brief demo and allowed me to drive it. I was sold, all that remained was agreeing upon a price. With little adieu, my first offer of $8500 was readily accepted. The car had been smogged that morning, I had brought cash and the owner had a clear title in hand. We exchanged cash for the pink and I happily drove my new prize home. Wednesday I had Dennis at Carburetor and Electric inspect the vehicle. It appeared nearly flawless, save for a worn A/C belt which was changed. Looking over receipts I found that the timing belt and water pump had been replaced at c. 36,000 miles without explanation for apparently premature service. It was also noted that the Transaxle had a slight leak for which I have an appointment next Weds with the Dodge Dealer in Goleta. The Transaxle is a recall item and if it's determined to be defective it will be replaced at Dodge's expense, so no worries there. The car is magnificent to drive. It has a 6 speed manual transmission. 6th is similar to an overdrive. At 80 MPH, in 6th, engine is loafing at 2400 RPM. As I recall my Plymouth Laser revs at 3500 at 80, more or less. EPA estimate is 24 MPG highway, unleaded premium fuel. Not bad for a car with 320 HP able to go 0-60 in well under 6 seconds. The speedometer, by the way, tops at 180 MPH. The car is stock and original, just the way I like them and the way it shall remain under my ownership. Other fun goodies, an active suspension and exhaust system for either Sport or Tour. An incredible air conditioning system with digital temp settings. There's more, but that's all for now. More info on this fine, rare vehicle: http://www.stealth316.com/2-production.htm http://joeg.mi3si.org/3S_Production.html March 01 John Hale IVIn Memoriam of John Hale IV
Born September 29, 1927 in Chicago, Illinois. Died February 11, 2008 in Austin, Texas Circa 1949-50, my cousin John Hale visited the Close family in Los Angeles. My best friends Denny, Terry and Mike Devitt were rapt with John’s playfulness and attention. John showed us how to play mumble-t-peg on the large green outside our Village Green front door. I was proud that the Devitts spoke admiringly of John years after his visit. Though John‘s visits were rare, he was often the topic of admiring family conversation. Kingsley and John had a long history and deep affection for one another. Whenever the two were together they engaged in ceaseless banter and chuckles. As a youngster, though I seldom could follow their conversation, I could share in wonder, their unabashed glee. Perhaps testament to my awe and respect for John, at age 12 or so, I came home from a visit to the barber when John declared “Hey, you got your ears lowered!”. I took the expression literally and fretted for months about the relocation of my ears. October 1966, after graduating from LB State, I took a trip to Europe by way of the Hale’s in Halesite, Long Island. On that visit John took me and his family sailing on his 22 foot sloop, JEBAH (acronym for John, Beverly and Betty Ann Hale). Thus, I learned to sail and was allowed to solo on those halcyon days of autumn whilst sipping a quart of John’s favorite ale from a green bottle. Such was his influence, when John admonished me not to smoke on that ‘66 visit, I never did again. Somewhere in Italy on my October 1966 European hitchhiking adventure, I ran low on funds. I wrote John a letter appealing for cash. Promptly, he sent $$$ to the American Express office in Zurich, Switzerland. That money arrived in the nick of time as I spent my last Swiss Franc on ale at a tavern in the snowy Swiss alps. I later wrote John my plan to travel the world one step ahead of my creditors. March 17, 1969 I received a call from John requesting that I pick him up at LAX at the end of his inbound TWA flight. At the airport, I searched for John as passengers and crew filed out the exit corridor. I spotted two pilots and asked if they knew John Hale. Reverentially, they replied, “he’s our Captain and he’s right behind us”. Another lasting moment of pride for my esteemed cousin John. As I grew older, John’s influence as a TWA pilot took hold and I eventually earned commercial, instrument and flight instructor ratings in light aircraft. In 1970, shortly after receiving my ratings, John, Beverly, Betty and my Mom flew to Baja California in a Cherokee 6, John had rented at Orange County airport. A dream come true: flying co-pilot next to PIC John. I have pictures of us lounging in the sun at Mulege; memories of ice cold Margaritas in friendly Mexican bars. When John spoke, I often put my brain in “record”, so amusing, intriguing or profound were his words. Nobody could tell a joke better than John, and he had an endless supply. When reading these, bear in mind the era and our youthfulness. Told to me c 1959: “Confucius say man who lose key, get no new key.” Or “watch out for that tennis ball! What tennis ba… !” In the 50’s, Japan made low quality merchandise. To get around the stigma of “Made in Japan“, John said they made items in Usa, Japan so they could say made in USA. Once, upon landing the Cherokee 6 at a dirt strip in Baja, John triumphantly shouted, “We cheated death again!” A joke about the Pope needing to have a female consort in order to save his ailing life. At first the Pope won’t hear of it. Finally after much protestation he agrees. When asked what kind of woman would he like, he says “we’ll she must be a devout Catholic, unquestionably a virgin, and of course Italian and certainly moral and, well,…. how about size DD.” John obtained a large fake gorilla head in Egypt. The story goes, when he landed his 747 at JFK, he held the head up to the cockpit window to give the appearance a large gorilla was at the controls. Comfortable in the spotlight, John was an entertaining toastmaster. In 1976, at the Centerport yacht club, John raised a glass to Beverly Hale and another lady, saying “to the two most beautiful women in NY.” Then added, “wherever they may be.” He would always cheer aloud (in front of the wives) whenever I said I was still single. And holler “you’ll be sorry”, whenever he passed a wedding ceremony. His humor could be at someone’s expense, but was never (too) mean spirited. Wry humor and friendly insults were John’s way of expressing (or concealing) his affection. John’s long term memory was sharp to the last. On my October 2007 visit, upon reading a quote (Democracy gives everyone the right to be their own oppressor) he correctly identified the author as James Russell. He also recalled my pet chameleons of 1956 and named one: Scarface. We shared a laugh when I recalled the other two: Fang and One Eye. Though he spent much time in bed due to health issues, when I said we were going to dinner, he immediately said “OK, let’s go!” It was so good to hear his familiar laugh and enjoy his still sharp wit. John’s health was trending down in 2007 despite Betty Hale’s best efforts to address his ailments. Finally it was determined that he had a faulty heart valve. It was hoped that an operation to repair the valve would restore John’s oxygen uptake and ultimately, his health. I believe the operation was performed on February 7, 2008. Initially, it appeared to have gone well. However by Sunday, post operative complications arose and Betty Hale was unhappily put in the position of having to carry out John’s wishes to not be placed on life support. Betty courageously complied with his wish and John’s Dr’s best advice. On Monday then, John was removed from medication and life support and peacefully passed away with Betty and close friends at his side. It was unsettling to watch my boyhood idol drift out of the limelight over time. Suffice to say, John will always be my hero. This from John’s beloved Sister Martha (Marty) Hale:
Steve Close and Martha Hale February 28, 2008
December 21 Steve's 2007 Christmas LetterSteve’s 2007 Christmas letter My beloved sister EJ, Eleanore Jean Tennyson (Close), passed away September 2, 2007. I always looked up to EJ. She was athletic. She could do back bends, cartwheels, climb trees, play baseball, run and swim. Not that I necessarily followed, but she also set an example of diligent study; completing College with honors. Throughout my childhood, my big Sister made me feel valued by including me in many of her activities. She’d invite me on walks through our neighborhood. Or include me on St. Paul’s church retreats at Forest Home. She would ask me to go on field trips with her college class. After she began dating Todd, I was often included on outings in Todd’s maroon 1948 Plymouth coupe. When Todd brought EJ home on their first few dates, I would quietly listen to their back porch banter from my bed and mischievously await the right moment to wisecrack and break their romantic spell. They would always accommodate my antics with good natured laughter. When I was c 12, EJ took me and good friend Bob Oates to a movie in L.A. As we were about to take our balcony seats I was mortified when, overcome with enthusiasm, Bob blurted “let’s raise hell!” To my relief my proper big sister appeared to take no notice. My best friend Jim Otto and I, aged c 14, once took train to newlyweds ET and TT’s house in Fullerton. EJ made a salad containing kidney beans. Curious, we asked EJ what they were. EJ, to our profound dismay said they were little bunny hearts. Much relieved we were when, laughing, she told us the truth. At one of our last family soft ball games, I was amazed at how quick and agile EJ was at running bases at age 50+. More recently (2005?) on our last bike ride, EJ made it straight up the big hill from the Bottoms to keep pace with me. EJ never complained or showed fear. She was accepting of what was to be. Shortly before passing, a caregiver was playing music to cheer EJ. Another caregiver was massaging her feet. When the music caught EJ’s attention, she began moving her head to the music. Then amazingly, she began to move her feet in time as well. It was noted and admired that EJ literally danced to her next destination. That I may match EJ’s grace and acceptance when it’s my turn to depart. In her latter days, no one could have asked for more love and support than was given by her ever loyal husband Todd and their 3 lovely daughter’s, Beth, Amy and Jo. I shall be forever grateful. There were other family challenges in 2007. In March my other Sister, Ginny, was diagnosed with breast cancer. In April Ginny’s Husband, Harvey, was diagnosed with Lymphoma. Fortunately, after operations and follow up radiation and/or chemo therapy, both Ginny and Harvey appear to be cancer free and on the mend. Cousin John Hale was diagnosed with a heart valve problem that curtailed activity. The good news is that he is otherwise in good health and a planned operation may restore his health. John’s memory is phenomenal. From a partial quote he identified James Russell as author and remembered my pet chameleon’s names 50 years later: Scarface, Fang and One Eye. Other items: Two new road bikes, prevailing @ e mail debates with Neo-Marxists Tony C and Gene R, weekly telephone conversations with Todd T, molding Corey W in my image, enjoying coffee & bagels with Gene and Aaron after bike rides, touching base with Arnold Ouslander (Army buddy), Marty Goodman (since 1954), Charles Heidbrink (since 1948), Richard Kaley (since c 1952), Hank Levin (Health Department days), Margy and Shannon Sterling (since 1970’s). Everyone in fair to good shape, myself included. Of course walking Tango 2X a day, rain or shine. Life continues to be enjoyable and fascinating; more so through the perspective of age and experience. Prime interests (apart from cycling): history, science, politics, vintage movies 30’s-60’s, old time radio. Sources: The Internet (book snobs: you are old bow-tie) Discovery Channels (all) TV; various topics http://dsc.discovery.com/ 100 Most Important Discoveries; TV-DVD: http://science.discovery.com/convergence/100discoveries/big100/big100.html Planet Earth; TV-DVD http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planet_Earth_(TV_series) Dr. Michio Kaku TV-DVD-Books; Theoretical Physicist, City University New York http://www.myspace.com/mkaku Frank Capra’s Prelude To War; TV and internet download: http://www.archive.org/details/PreludeToWar Similar Carpra works: http://www.archive.org/details/cinemocracy My web sites: http://skc123.spaces.live.com/ http://skcyclist.spaces.live.com/ Personal Weather Station: http://www.wunderground.com/weatherstation/WXDailyHistory.asp?ID=KCACARPI2 Live Web Cam: http://68.6.88.220:8080/index.html 2007 timeline: January 6 Los Olivos ride Feb 4 Mothballs Criterium Feb 10 Tony Corona visits me and Corey at Zookers in Carpinteria Feb 18 Pine Flat Road Race; visit Susan Cardoza/Guelda in Fresno March: Ralph Munoz successful heart surgery EJ’s brain tumor, virtually dormant since 1999 abruptly re emerges Ginny Ruffin diagnosed with breast cancer March 10 Solvang Century March 25 Redlands criterium (DNS); reunion with Ralph, Jack and April March 26 lunch with Hank Levin in LA April Harvey Ruffin diagnosed with Lymphoma April 11-16 Visit Mike Largent, Bill Lockyer, D. Luftig, Kornbergs and Tennysons April 12 Sea Otter Road Race 9th 60+ April 13 Sea Otter Circuit Race 4th 60+/47:00 April 26-28 Jim and Susan Guelda-Cardoza visit here in Carpinteria May 2 bumped off motorcycle lane splitting on 101. Landed AOK May 5 cancelled San Luis Rey road race due to cold May 19 Lake Los Angeles Time Trial 13th 60+/58:57 June 15-18 visit Tennysons July 4 Party at Kate’s. Celebrate local women’s cycling race across America July 14 Visit Guelda/Cardoza Mt. Diablo Hill Climb 2nd 55+/30.23.3 July 15&16 Visit Tennysons July 21 Gary Gray’s Chili Cook off at Circle Bar B August 4 Sisquoc RR championships 8th 60+ September 1st visit Ruffins/Mt Charleston Road Race/1st place 55+/1:41:37 September 2 EJ passed away September 9 Mt. Shasta road race 1st place 55+/1:16:56 September 9-18 visit Tennysons September 15 Mt. Tamalpais road race 9th 55+/49:00 September 16 EJ’s Memorial service October 2 Dave Williams Dx’d w/aggressive brain tumor October 23-26 Visit John and Betty Hale November 21-23 Thanksgiving at Ruffins w/Harners; Ride Red Rock Canyon November 26, Visit Dave Williams with Corey and Dave Schrader December 8 Witnessed local fire//Ms. Noel perished due to faulty Xmas lights December 14 Aaron Long becomes proud Father of baby Alexandra Valborg Close diary excerpts1955-57From Val Close’s Diary: July 1955: EJ spending the summer at Campfire Girls camp, Va. Working part time, slumber parties, beach picnics, etc. Steve spends time with Jimmy Otto. August 1955 EJ is on a High Sierra hiking trip and VA at Forest Home conference. October 1955: Probably the most memorable October of our lives. Eleanore and Todd are engaged. We are delighted. Jan 1956 New Year’s Eve was dull, but New Year’s Day we had a lovely game of Hearts with the Devitt’s and then Monday, the Legal Holiday, we c watched the game at Bev and John’s. John gave Steve a game and he popped in often to play with it. January 1956 Eleanore and Todd have set a tentative date of August 24th for the wedding. July 1956 Settling down to working 5 days a week. Steve is attending summer school and taking Junior life saving. Everything centering around EJ’s wedding. Or was until Virginia calmly announced she and Don McGilvary were engaged. They will marry in December. Such an exciting ?? August 1956 Much excitement preparing for EJ’s wedding. So many gifts we were unable to move. The fun of Todd’s coming and goings, and a happy hour when the four gathered in the girl’s room and opened gifts. The four of them each beautiful in spirit and body in different ways. The wedding in church patio was beautiful and unlike any other. There were between 4 & 5 hundred people. Both Aunts were here, Elspeth and Dagny. T and EJ went camping in the High Sierra, then back to load up to go to Kentucky. The Sunday they were back we took Elspeth and Mother to Bartholow’s for dinner and then all to Tennysons to help sort wedding gifts. Then Mr. and Mrs. Todd Tennyson went to Olive Hill, Ky to teach in a Methodist Missionary school. Started headlong into PTA after a vacation in the High Sierras at the Alpers. We had a good time there but enjoyed the ride home by Lake Isabella and then into the mountains on a very narrow road. The mountains and forest were beautiful. Enjoying Don and Ginny’s romance after first shock. Kink appreciates his prospective son in law. November 1956 Pam and I have had much fun talking about our children. We had one happy afternoon addressing wedding invitations. And somewhere along that time I went with Ginny and her bridesmaids for their fittings. Carolyn Whistler, Barbara Black and Betty Ludwig? Were all excited and we had a memorable time. December 1956 Besides Nursery school and PTA we were caught up in the excitement of wedding preparations and Bestamore: trip to the hospital. First she had a fall. Then on Ginny’s wedding day she had a heart attack and we rushed from the hospital to the wedding. Ginny and Don were married December 15 in the afternoon. The wedding was simple and lovely. They had their apartment already. And they received so many needed things for thanksgiving. We joined the Ross Loos clinic. Eleanore is pregnant. They spent Christmas ant the Hales and it was fun to get new of how she looked and was from them. The baby is due in May. In January (1957) we had quite a production for Dad’s (Wilmer Christensen) birthday. People kept surprising him all day long. He was much pleased. I believe it was in February Don and Ginny sprung the news that Don was giving up school and they were moving to Tulare. He is being transferred by the Auto Club. We’ll miss them, but they seem happy about it. April 1957 Ann Small’s wedding was Saturday the 13th. I missed Eleanore terribly. Went to reception alone. May 1957 And still more trouble and tragedy. Eleanore and Todd’s little boy was born dead May 2nd, the day after E.J’s Birthday. We called her when she came home. Our lovely daughter took it in her stride. They’ll be home soon. June 1957 Celebrated Mom and Dad’s Wedding anniversary with Helen and Grey, Hans and Dolores, and Eleanor Nopar. Don and Ginny came down for Bill Lopers and Carol F’s wedding. Eleanore and Todd were back and living in a house his parents found for them. So I proudly went to the wedding with my 2 daughters. They both looked beautiful in totally different ways. Don seem fine and how I love that Todd. It was good to have EJ and Todd stopping in. We only got to their house once. Their stupid parakeet died after they had been here a week and EJ had an air of tragedy about her for awhile, but when they left she had her bubbling, happy nature back. Curio their cat is as much of a personality as Cleo, Ginny and Don’s dog and equally spoiled. July 1957 We spent a really happy Fourth in Tulare. Todd and Eleanore came up too. We had a nice motel with swimming pool and everyone got to use it. Had a picnic where we 3 women got stuck with all the food, equipment and 1 dog. EJ kept Va and me from blowing up. But it really was good having our family all together as well. Bestamore is adjusting. Elspeth came out and spent some time in May. In May I received a flag for service to the Republican Women. The presidents were here and we celebrated with Screwdrivers. August 1957 Todd went to Catalina for 2 weeks. EJ came down and spent a weekend with us. They left the last of August. We told them good-bye several times. First by phone then they came by on their way and their car broke down so they stayed all night. Finally the next morning we said good bye and they did get off. We all hate for them to go back. Life there is pretty dreadful, however they are wonderful people. On Labor Day weekend 1957 Larsens came up for the holiday and Chal casually dropped in. What a hectic time having company and preparing for our trip. But we had a fun. Dorothy and I would keep sneaking off with Johnny. We went to Alpers again. Our side trip Mammoth ski lift was a big event. On the way back we stopped with Don and Ginny and had our usual good time. 1985 SBCC Track Interview Steve and Coreyhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZvzRy7tF7I November 15 Ride For The Roses 2005October 23, 2005, Austin, Texas, Ride For The Roses The weather was unseasonable cool; probably in the low 50’s at daybreak Winds were light and variable, though as the ride progressed, winds became significant. The ride was scheduled to start at 7:30 AM. There were about 6500 riders to be sent off in waves of several dozens at a time. Lance Armstrong and a couple dozen riders would lead the first wave. 40-50 riders, including me and renegade Fastrack riders waited outside the starting gate to avoid the initial crush. Race monitors shooed us down the road moments before the start and I began pedaling at an easy 16 MPH pace. About 7: 45 I heard the start horn and knew Lance + 6500 would be advancing. A mile or two down the road I heard a patrol car’s intermittent siren blast as it led Lance and the lead peleton down the course. I looked back anxiously as the peleton quickly closed the distance. At last the Peleton arrived and I heard “Fastrack, Fastrack!” as Lance and the lead riders came abreast and recognized my jersey. I quickly speeded up and fell in behind 30-40 riders of this lead pack including fellow Fastrack riders: Ken, Dano, Barney, Mitch, Nikola, Luis, Eric and Jane. Team captain, Dave Lettiere, was smiling and riding tall next to Lance: http://velogal.smugmug.com/gallery/913959/1/41655997 http://velogal.smugmug.com/gallery/913959/3Story behind Dave and Lance: http://www.scbeacon.com/beacon_issues/03_07_31/repeat_workingweek.htmlNikola and Robin Williams: http://velogal.smugmug.com/gallery/914063/1/41665076Dano and ? http://velogal.smugmug.com/gallery/913959/1/41658251A large stake side truck with a contingent of press and cameras led about 50 feet in front of peleton. I glanced down at my speedometer and was amazed to see we were blazing along at 25-30 miles per hour with little effort on my part. My heart rate monitor indicated 105 BPM; little more than walking at a brisk pace. The Ride For The Roses is not a race. It is benefit sponsored by the LAF (Lance Armstrong Foundation) to support cancer patients, cancer survivors and their loved ones: http://www.livestrong.org/site/c.jvKZLbMRIsG/b.695471/k.D29D/About_Us.htmLAF was established by Lance Armstrong in 1997 after his gritty recovery from cancer and prior to his rise to fame. I rode it for the first time in 2004. This year I rode in memory of former girlfriend Angela Sissons, and in support of my Sister, Eleanore Tennyson. For the first 20 miles or so, advancing riders joined the lead peleton, building it to perhaps 60-70 riders. Riders moved forward and rearward amid the rolling mass. I maintained toward the rear watching the action and staying alert. At one point the road narrowed and a few riders were caught off balance. One fellow went off the road and fell over. It didn’t appear serious and the peleton pressed on with hardly a glance back. Because the ride offered courses varying between 7, 25, 40, 70 and 100 miles, somewhere between mile 20 and 30, the lead peleton split in two. Lance was only going to do 40, so he and the press truck went one way and those of us doing 100 miles went another. The ride then changed significantly. The lead peleton now consisted of probably less than 30 riders including aforementioned Fastrack riders who now were setting the pace. Without the lead truck and large mass of riders it became more of an effort to maintain our demanding pace. The Honeymoon was over. It was helpful to be surrounded by Fastrack riders and friends with whom I was familiar. There were a number of other strong riders now among us. Some appeared to be riding as a team. Near mile 30 there was a fairly huge acceleration near the front of the pack, catching me and Mitch off guard. We tried to bridge up, but to no avail. At this point it appeared I was among riders of my ability or less, so no more easy drafting. I resigned myself to riding with this group and working with them the best I could. It wouldn’t be all that bad. But lo, a scant mile or two further, Mitch and I caught up with the main group of Fastrack riders who had, at Dave’s behest, graciously slowed down for us. For the next 50 miles we pressed on through scenic Texas hill country. Fastrack’s Barney Berglund did yeoman’s work pulling us along at 25 MPH and more, for many of those miles. At one point I found myself second behind Barney and more exposed to increasing late AM head winds. Even in his draft, I could not bear Barney’s withering pace and breathlessly drifted rearward for more protection. Barreling along at mile 65, among the hard core, I felt my riding had attained a new level. I only hoped to hang on another 35 miles. As crosswinds strengthened I sought shelter in the sweet spot on the lee side of strong riders. A sure part of riding success depends on reading the wind and taking advantage of peleton strongmen. At approximately mile 75 Dave pulled alongside and said I was sure to surpass last year’s 6 hour plus effort. Encouraging words, but I sensed a possible jinx. Still, the longer I held on to the fast flying peleton, the better shape I’d be in the event of a melt down. At mile 85 we hit a series of hills and the strongmen began tightening the screws. I finally cracked about mile 87 and watched helplessly as the peleton pulled away. Still, with less than 15 miles to go, I felt confident of finishing with a decent time. On my own, at the mercy of stiffening winds, riding difficulty increased dramatically. Running low on fuel I began to lose energy and became light headed. Even slight head winds and minor hills became quite an effort and slowed me down significantly. I didn’t doubt I’d be able to finish with less than 10 miles to go, but I was surprised at how rapidly I was imploding. I soldiered on the final few miles and finally crossed the finish in 4 hours and 38 minutes. Not bad for a guy on social security. A few seconds later Mitch finished. In the fuzziness of fatigue, I had lost track of my fellow Fastrack riders. Dave rode up and said he and the others had hammered to the finish in 4 hours and 20 some minutes. Dave said Nikola had flatted late in the ride but I didn’t know where he was. Over a mere15 miles I had lost over 15 minutes. I headed over to a refreshment stand and soaked up water and munched grapes. Within a few minutes I felt much better leading me to believe I had not eaten or drank enough during the event. All in all it was an excellent day. Fastrack riders gave a good accounting of themselves both in Saturday’s one hour Cat 3&4 Criterium (Dave ascended the podium in 3rd; other Fastrack riders finished within striking distance) and on this Century (Amazing Barney top 3 in 4:22; Dave and more Fastrack riders in top 10) I sure wouldn’t have ridden as well without their collective formidable strength and support. Steve Close From Dave: F'n Barney is once again the Strongest Man in Texas..... Huge pulls all day in a 4:20 century.... Another fun weekend: Thanks everyone; Ken, Dano, Barney, Mitch, Nikola, Luis, Eric, Jane, Steve Close, for a great ride.
From Nikola: Top ten reasons: > > 10. You know you're in Texas when in an Italian bistro you hear "Y'all > want anythin' for dessert?" > > 9. Not crashing in the crit the day before R4R > > 8. IHOP at 5:00am. > > 7. Coming up with names like "Huevo Ranchero" for Lance's ranch > (hint: 'huevos' is Spanish slang for 'balls'). > > 6. Little person Elvis impersonator. > > 5. Esther, the coctail waitress (ask others to elaborate, all I have > are the second hand accounts). > > 4. Talking to Robin Williams and forming "Team Propecia" (being the > only two guys with hairy legs in the front group). > > 3. Wondering when Ken will finally snap and kill Dano, his > heterosexual life partner. > > 2. Tex Mex and Chuy's. > > 1. Hanging out with the buddies, and having lifelong memories. > > Thanks all for making it a great weekend, especially to Dave who > organized it all, kept us on a schedule, got us to hang out with the > VIPs, helped assemble/disassemble/reassemble and ship the gear, etc. > Thanks also to Barney for pulling at least 50-odd miles, and riding us > into oblivion. > > - Nikola November 14 Chalmer Close, John Hale and moreI didn’t see Chalmer all that much. Yet like other distant family members, it was interesting to listen to family talk about them. Chalmer was an exciting figure. He seemed like a big man, drove neat cars, and told good stories. He was a bit of a braggart, saying things like "I paid $100 a throw for those tires (on his 54-55 Oldsmobile). Wow, I was impressed. That was about what we paid for a whole car in those days! We had a BBQ once in the fire pit in the patio at 5130 Village Green. Chal (as he was called) bought a load of New York steaks for the affair. Such a feast! He would drive out from Chicago. Once he told me he kept newspapers at his side in case someone followed too closely behind. He said he’d throw the papers out so that they’d stick to the windshield of the offending vehicle, thus blocking the offending driver’s view. I don’t think I ever believed this was true, but just recently, December, 2003, I saw a movie, I believe "Analyze That", in which just such a stunt was pulled! I was amazed. I believe it was the year Disneyland opened that Chal drove me and my best friend, Jim Otto there. We cruised the fairly new Santa Ana Freeway in his late model Olds. When we got there most of the ride lines were too long to bother waiting. The only ride we could get on was the Teacup ride. A fairly simple ride, shaped like a cup with a wheel in the center. The faster you would turn the wheel, the faster the cup twirled. As I recall, Jim and I were about 14 years old, but Jim was much bigger and stronger than I. Jim aggressively spun the wheel, despite my feeble efforts to slow it down. When the ride mercifully stopped, we both spent the rest of the day fairly nauseous. I think Chal was both amused and concerned. I vaguely recall Chal talking about how tough Chicago was, the Loop, etc. I think he showed me a pistol he carried in the glove compartment. Wow! During the mid to late 50’s, Chal came out two more times as I recall. Once he drove out in a 1956 Studebaker Golden Hawk. A two tone, red and black beauty with a Packard engine and turned aluminum instrument panel. This was an elite auto even for it’s day. Then he came out in a 1958 Gold, Golden Hawk with a Supercharger. I don’t think either of us liked it as much as the 56, but it was still an impressive car. I think there was a bit of friction between Kingsley and Chalmer. Not a big deal, but it was there. King used to tell about the time Chalmer kicked a can of gas over and set King on fire. I guess Chal also tackled him and put out the fire with minimal harm done. On the other hand, Kinglsey spoke of his Sister Elspeth, with the utmost reverence and love. I recall going to the LA train depot to meet Elspeth. Poor thing was in a wheel chair, and had apparently had too much to drink. She was extremely frail and appeared older than her years. I reckon I was about 15 and was somewhat upset at the whole embarrassing affair. My folks spoke of Big John, referring to Elspeth’s husband. I don’t recall ever meeting the man, or my Father’s Father who died in 1941, a couple years before my birth. They spoke of having many good times at the Hale’s, who were apparently well-heeled and not averse to enjoying life. John and Elspeth had two children, John and Marty. I met John, I believe when I was about 10 years old. I think he was in the Air Farce, or had been recently discharged. Man, was he a Hero to me and my buddies the Devitt’s: Terry, Denny and Michael! John showed us how to play Mumblety-peg on the green in front of 5130 Village Green. As I recall we played over by the elm tree that served as First Base for the Devitt/Close Sunday soft ball games. As a side light, I visited the Village some 5 years ago, c 1998, and was taken aback at how large and beautiful the trees had grown. The Algerian Ivy was gone, removed after the Baldwin Hills Reservoir burst in 1963, flooding much of the Village. (During that event, I paddled my surfboard through city streets and eventually paddled an elderly gentleman I found clinging to a lamp post to his home.) Many of the shrubs were gone as well. Our old apartment looked a bit run down, but overall the place didn’t look too bad. The oddest thing were the tree squirrels that had established a home there. I just couldn’t get used to seeing them there, though they were a delight. Well, back to John, whom I got to know better than many of my distant relatives. John became an airline pilot for TWA sometime in the mid 50’s. Now what kid wouldn’t bust his buttons having an airline pilot cousin? Not only that, but John had a great sense of humor and not a shred of anything you wouldn’t like. The cool thing was, he was not only a scream, he enjoyed the humor of others. When I was going to LB State and thinking about making a career as asurfer, John would take the time to write me articulate letters on his familiar typewriter attempting to show me the light. His letters were always clever and would include such things as his signature, followed by JH/gl* *= Gina Lollabrigida. Marty I didn’t get to know until later in life. She was dark, lively and lovely. I actually found myself attracted to her, but bummer, she was my First Cousin. Unfortunately, like a few of us in the family (me too) she went through a period of drinking. Bless her, she has found many years of sobriety and peace and has a good and loyal friend in Millie. Now this from an e mail I recently sent Betty Hale: Will be so great to see you and John. Since Mom and Dad passed, well, guess Well, there is much more to say: I haven’t touched on Bestamore, Aunt Winifred, Dad’s friends Welby Holt and Leo Scheetz; our trip in 1976; my visit to Flint, Michigan to see the Christensen side of the family. Don and Shirley Hannah, Aunt Helga, etc. Then of course my Nieces: Laura, Beth, Amy and Jo, the Ruffins, the Tennysons. There is much more I’d like to learn about the Christensen’s. A smaller family, Wilmer and Nora only had two children: Valborg and Dagny. And Dagny had no children. Yet it seems Nora came from a larger family. Wilmer immigrated to the US, leaving his family behind, so we hadn’t the opportunity to meet them. I believe Eleanore and Todd Tennyson may have met some of the Christensen’s when they went to Europe some years ago. BTW, Todd has quite a collection of slide photographs that could be scanned and placed on our family CD collection. Geez, it almost makes one long to be an orphan, heh. One thing we need to work on is a Family Tree. I have a feeling these things only become interesting as one ages. Then again, maybe it’s better to be forgotten to the ages. It will happen thus, eventually. A Dream by Elena MacFarland c 1951A Dream It was a bright Sunday in late December. I had been spending the better part of the day with Kingsley’s family; we had finished dinner and were seated in their cheery living room listening to records. Bing Crosby and the Fred Waring band were singing Way Back Home, when the door opened quietly and there stood Roy. The sun at his back outlined the familiar silhouette: the tall erect form and proudly poised head, the hat, with the brim turned down slightly in front, was set at the accustomed angle. He stood with utter grace and naturalness listening with obvious pleasure to the words of the song. He took off his hat and stepped inside while his eyes swept a swift glance around the room resting with a brief look of recognition on each face. When at last they came to Steven the boy looked up and an expression of complete understanding passed between the two. They’ve met before, I thought; perhaps he sent the little boy down to us. By now the record was finished. Kingsley turned off the phonograph and stepped over to meet his father. They stood for a long minute with heads bowed and hands tightly clasped. Ginny quietly took the hat from her grandfather’s hand and placed it on the table. Tears streamed down Bobbie’s cheeks and Eleanore’s face beamed with eager expectation. Still no word was spoken. When he turned and started toward me, my heart turned over with a great throb which sent a flood of images and recollections through my whole being. His eyes were clear and his vision keen, his step quick and sure. As he took me in his arms I felt the firm fibre of his coat. It was real. His smoothly shaven cheek was cool and slightly wet. His hands were warm and strong as always. He held me close. “Ten years is a long time, Darling,” he whispered. “Let’s go home.”
By Bestamore Close circa 1951 Transcribed by Grandson, Steve Close, September 22, 2002 Christmas 1991 It's coming, and there's nothing you can do about it: Christmas,
1991. Holiday greetings.  Shortly after writing last years Xmas letter my ranch was
hit by the "Arctic Express". If that wasn't enough, the drought dried up one well and had another down to a worrisome level. Mid february I kneeled down and prayed for an impossible 1511 of rain to come. Lo', by the end of March it had rained an unprecedented 22". The bounteous rainfall combined with a cool summer was just what was needed to restore my water supplies and heal the freeze damaged trees. Result is I'm once again optimistic, but wary as hell. A big plus For this year has been the constant love and support from my family, and a new worker I've hired from Mexico, Eugenio. Most valuable tree award qoes to the black mission fig for producing $1000 worth of fruit! Wish I'd planted 100 trees. Also high on the list for profit are the star ruby grapefruits and assorted mandarins. Biggest disappointment were the grapes which I finally removed due to impossible pest problems. I recently sold the Bellanca (airplane). Finally hollered "Uncle" and admitted I didnt have the time or money for that wonderful extravagance. Perhaps in a future Xmas letter I can announce that I've gone insane again and bought another airplane. I'm still running about 30 miles a week, and feeling very
fit. Santa Barbara a great place for running and enjoying life. Highlights for the year included a 30 year reunion for my
Dorsey High class of 161. My neice Laurie got married. My brother in law Todd retired. My sister Ginny and husband Harvey moved to Las Vegas. My dad turned 80; insists the "Golden Years" are a crock. Congratulations to all! One sad note is that the family is geographically moving farther apart, and the large and frequent gatherings are history. I'm hoping to finish paving the roads up here this year
so it may be easier to visit. Also, with the hiring of a Full time helper I may be able to take some time off and travel. Wishing you a good holiday and new year.
Love, Steve  The Fate Of Joe Wreck's AirplaneThe Fate of Joe Wreck’s Airplane A True Story I met a young woman, Becky Fast, summer 1968. She was attractive and fair with long blonde hair. She worked as an RN and shared an apartment in Hollywood with a roommate named Leah Lower. Yep, Fast and Lower read the mail box. Becky’s parents lived in Palmdale and as I had recently been certified as a Private Pilot, I suggested we fly to Lake Isabella to camp with a stop at her parent’s on the way. Saturday, August 24, 1968 we loaded C-150 N8980S (no kidding; owned by Joe Wreck), at Western Skyways at Long Beach International Airport and took off for adventure. I had logged approximately 40 hours since receiving my Private certificate June 6, 1968 and was feeling quite confident and skillful as a young airman. To make things more challenging, instead of opting to land at larger Fox Field near Palmdale, I chose to land at tiny Quartz Hill airport, a dirt strip surrounded by low desert foothills. Arriving near midday, I circled the field making an “unfamiliar airport” check. There were no other aircraft landing, the wind was light, right hand traffic pattern, landing to the west. I entered downwind, continued looking for traffic, assessing the field and performing my landing check list: carburetor heat, throttle back, flaps 20 degrees, nose up, airspeed 65 knots, trim the aircraft. All seemed well as I turned base and final. As I approached the runway threshold, I was high, so I eased the nose down and chopped the power. As I flared for landing, I realized I was running out of runway and hastily decided to make a go-around. At that moment I wasn’t concerned as I had practiced many go rounds and was almost anxious to show off this skill to Becky. I went through the go round check list: full power, carburetor heat off, nose gently up, maximum angle of climb airspeed. I forgot to retract the electric flaps which were almost max, 30 degrees. Almost immediately the hills appeared dismayingly close, and I became aware of a high pitched sound. What was that!? I glanced at the airspeed indicator and was shocked to see I was dangerously slow. Incredulous, I then realized the sound was the stall warning horn. I was experiencing “tunnel vision”. Panicked, my perceptions were narrowed to almost nothing; my ability to control the plane vanished. I finally realized the flaps were extended, and possibly counter productively, retracted them. All too late. I thought, “I hope I die instantly; a pole through my forehead”. Fearing impact, I instinctively pulled the nose up into a stall. N8980S mushed, shook, stalled and smacked into the ground. We hit with a jolt, dirt and dust flying, we spun, then came to a stop. Dazed, but unhurt, I looked at Becky and said, “I pranged it”. An old airman’s term for crashing. I asked if she was hurt, and she said she didn’t think so. A man came running out of his nearby home, shouting and gesticulating, and urged us to get out of the plane. He pointed to fuel dripping out of the vent. Some more people showed up and rolled the plane to a road and out of the way. I was relieved Becky’s Mom was late to pick us up at the airport and hadn’t witnessed the crash. Sheepishly, I trudged over to the airport office and called the owner of Western Skyways, Jim Thurston. With a breaking voice, I broke the news. The first thing Jim asked was if anyone was hurt, and I said no. He and several other instructors from Western Skyways flew out in a Cessna 206 to look things over. I spent that night, feeling humiliated, as a guest of Becky’s family in Palmdale. Everyone seemed to peer at me curiously. On September 20, I resumed flying by practicing touch and go’s at Compton Airport. Eventually I went on to Commercial, Instrument and CFI ratings and logged about 1200 hours before retiring c 1990. I had made several mistakes at Quartz Hill. Usually a combination of factors lead to accidents, and this was no different. I had not spent enough time surveying the field, taking into account the surrounding hills, the fairly warm temperature, the low wind conditions, and high field elevation. High temperatures, high humidity and high field elevation equal, in pilot parlance, to high density altitude. Engine, propeller and airfoil performance is reduced. Lack of head wind effectively increases ground speed and requires more landing space. Obviously, I came in too hot and too high. Apart from all that, I should have known better than to rent a plane from a fellow named Joe Wreck. Again I was lucky to have escaped a more unfortunate ending. Thanks too, for that rugged Cessna 150 “down and welded” landing gear and it’s low stall speed. Steve Close 1842782 January 26, 2005
November 12 60's: Union Station La Brea & Rodeo; Chuck's Christmas Tree LotC1960-63 1960, Mom was tired of me not having a job. Exasperated, she made a few phone calls to local businesses through Chamber of Commerce. To my astonishment she succeeded in getting me a job at the Union Oil station at La Brea and Rodeo in L.A. I went over and met the owner, Ben Sutton. Ben was probably in his late 50’s, sun tanned, and sported a slight gut. He spoke with slight impediment. He gave me a uniform consisting of blue slacks, a starched and pressed white shirt with Union logo and a blue bow tie. It was on the job training: follow an experienced man around to learn, then go out on your own. Having had a somewhat bad experience with my first job at Catalina Island in 1959, my confidence was low. (Working for “Termite”, Ray Arnold, I had earned the dubious nickname of Lightning. But that’s another story) I was nervous greeting customers and couldn’t seem to learn the simple steps of servicing a customer: greet and take order, start the pump, check the water and oil, clean the front and rear windows. For fill ups we often checked the battery water and tires as well. Often two of us would work together completing these tasks. After a few days on the job, Ben was unhappy with my fumbling performance. One busy Saturday or Sunday Ben handed me a book outlining service procedures. Frowning, he ordered me to read the book in the back seat of customers car that was in the car wash bay. Humiliated and feeling I was on the verge of being fired, I sat in the back of that car and did my best to memorize the simple steps required to service a gasoline customer. A half hour or so later, I emerged chastened, and began to methodically serve the public. I calmed down and little by little, began to do it right. Ben noted my rapid progress and after only a couple of weeks, rewarded me with a raise from $1.25/hour to $1.35/hour. It was quite a thrill. Still, the most rewarding moment of all came when I finally felt I was an equal to my co workers. I believe some sensed my insecurity and may have taken advantage. One of my co workers was a fellow named Mike. Mike was 20-21 years old, maybe 2 years older than I was. He was newly married and expecting his first child. One week night, Mike and I were working swing shift; just the two us. I was scheduled to get off at 900, but it was a little busy and I was so into my work, I failed to notice it was probably a quarter past 900 when I finally checked the time. Mike scowled at me, perhaps sensing a weakness. I was over all that. I knew I was a good worker and good naturedly flipped him off. We both laughed and I knew then, I was one of the boys.
Bill Adams: Short man in his late 50’s. Wore glasses. Said he was going to sue the city because they built the sidewalk to close to his ass. His brothers Fran and ? Also worked there. Also his son, a short, stocky fellow with very red hair that he wore in a jelly roll/ducktail. He once drew 40 weight oil out of the highboy and worked into his shiny red hair. He also once did a standing back flip in his street shoes and uniform. Jack Lion was about 22 years old. We nicknamed him Oakie, though he was from Colorado. He drove a new 1962 light yellow Chevy Bel Air two door hard top. He was about 6-3, lanky, sinewy with large hands and feet. He had short, curly dark hair and a wide, slightly pocked face. He had a few pimples which we was wont to pop between his fingers. He was married to a plain, somewhat overweight woman. He sometimes would stop by the station when he was off duty with an open quart of beer between legs and shoot the breeze or work on his car. He was worldly, crude and a little bit scary. He would say “I’d rather f@*! than eat”. He would sometimes drink buttermilk because “it loads my gun”. He talked about s***ing barnyard animals and corn h##ing whoever. He once laughingly challenged me to a foot race and the winner would corn h##e the loser. He once painted all the bulbs in his car with blue nail polish to make it “look like a wh@#e house”. After he painstakingly painted all of them and turned them on, they didn’t let any light out except where they were scratched. He cursed and we laughed. Jack got into trouble with the law. He skipped bail and disappeared around 1963. Rumor was he moved back to Colorado. There was a lovely young girl in the neighborhood: Nancy Warner. She lived with her parents and older Sister, Barbara on Coliseum, a block or so east of La Brea. Nancy was maybe 3-4 years younger than I, so we weren’t in the same school. I used to look for her waiting for the bus to take her to Audubon Jr. High. When I saw her, I would nearly faint with desire. Once in a great while she would walk by the gas station while I was working and our eyes would meet. And once, while I was kneeling checking a tire, she went by and gave me coquettish smile. These decades later I still cherish that moment. I grew bored with the job and sometime around 1963 failed to show up for work because the surf was up. I may have worked a few more days, but things were never the same between me and Ben. He was a good man and a good employer; I was just becoming full of myself.
Chuck’s Christmas Trees Chuck, Marge and Marty Crownholm. Linda Weldon, Joy McFarland, Benji, Jonna and Lois, Diane Hatch(Dorsey) Chuck Crownholm sold Christmas trees along the west side of La Brea between Rodeo and Coliseum during the mid to late 1950’s-60’s. He had a 15-16 year old daughter, Marty, that worked there. I could see the lot from the upstairs bedroom at 5130VG. Marty had short dark hair, brown eyes, freckles and a pixie nose. She seemed like an outdoor tom-boy or horse girl. Very appealing, and I looked forward to Christmas and the Return of Chuck’s trees. Christmas 1960, or so I applied for a job there as salesman and was hired. There was a young man, Benji, that worked there. Benji was very smooth, good talker, large calm brown eyes. He drove a 1955 Plymouth that had a nice “mist green” metallic paint job. I went to the same paint shop and asked for the same paint job on my 55 Pontiac, but got as Ben laughingly said: “missed green” blue, instead. Benji was cool and got any chick he wanted. (years later I ran into him and found out he had married one of the finest chicks at Dorsey: Lynn Davis) He had a reputation for being a superb salesman. I knew then, I would like to do better as a salesman. I made a game of selling trees: I enthusiastically called them lush, resilient, symmetrical, full, etc. I offered to fix any imperfections by “grafting” in branches. As I rambled on, making no airs about shoveling mostly BS, I could see prospective buyers won over. They were putty in my hands; they would usually smile and agree to buy the tree after my entertaining sales blitz. Such a fun job! Two of Marty Crownholm’s friends worked there. Joy McFarland and Linda Weldon. They all went to LA high; graduating in the early 60’s. Joy was probably the first girl I ever kissed. She wasn’t real attractive, but she was friendly and willing. I didn’t know at all how to kiss and it was an awkward, drooling mess. At some point I talked her into going to a motel with me. I spent maybe $5 for a few hours of fully clothed, uncomfortable groping, drooling and pawing. One side note: back in the days of pre personalized license plates, she received a random plate that read JOY 469. Which reminds me that Dorsey bad boy, Mike Shaw had a 1953-54 Corvette with a plate that read TAB 000. I saw it once at the Wichstand. Linda Weldon was very good looking. I recall Jim Gunter, Dorsey Butterfly champ, cool dude, the first person I ever heard use the word “gnarly” in 1960; saying he went out with her and it was no big deal. Wow, I wish. Linda sort of came onto me at the Christmas tree lot. My confidence was growing, but I was still somewhat intimidated by Linda. Once she put her arm around me under my Pendleton shirt and I was instantly excited. Wow, what a turn on! She lived in a classy two story house on Highland, near Wilshire, and I would always look for her when I drove by on my way to LA Valley College 61-64. I never saw anyone there. Once I looked up her number in the phone book and worked up the nerve to call her. When she came to the phone and I told her who I was, she asked if I finally got to the W’s in the phone book. Ouch!! Chuck would come and go at the lot. Toward the end of the season, he seemed to be gone more than present. He and Marge would sometimes sit in their little travel trailer office and count money and drink booze. Chuck had a mild speech impediment that would become thickened with alcohol. His face was red, his blue eyes, glassy. He was medium stature, stocky and powerfully built. He was accustomed to hard, physical work. I once asked if I could get a discount for my friends. He snarled that “no, he f’d his friends”. Not to say he was a bad guy, he wasn’t, he just was hard core when it came to business. Chuck asked us to sell trees for, say, $1, 2 or 3 per foot. I would estimate or measure height and quote customer price accordingly. They would often counter, at which point I would show Chuck the tree and ask if that price was OK. Usually he’d stand in the doorway of the trailer, look at the tree for a moment like it was a big deal, then say OK. Rarely would he say no. Once he rented what seemed like a huge stake bed truck and paid me to drive the left over trees to the dump. What a thrill it was to have that responsibility and drive that big truck!
There was a younger girl, Diane Hatch that worked at the lot. I liked her, but she seemed a bit young and I didn’t consider her as someone I should be interested in. The last night I worked one season, we were together. We sat around a 55 gallon drum that we burned firewood in and chatted when there was no business. It was warm and fuzzy. I said good bye to Diane and I thought she seemed heart broken.. As though she had some sort of crush on me. More recently I confirmed it was she that was working there, but I understand she barely remembered me.
Baldwin Hills Dam Break December 1963----- Original Message ----- From: Steve Close To: Steve CloseSent: Sunday, December 21, 2003 7:49 AMSubject: Baldwin Hill Dam breakAs you know, I was a fairly new hire at the Rodeo Bowl (now possibly a Synagogue or other house of prayer) when the dam broke. It was a Saturday, I believe about 3 weeks after Kennedy was shot November 22, 1963. I was hired to clean the joint. My boss was a rather unpleasant man probably in his 40's, somewhat overweight, as I recall, named Mr. C. I recall he once saw me sweeping the floor and told me he could hire a colored kid to work faster than I could. The Saturday the dam broke, the radio was playing over certain speakers in the bowling alley. Announcements were coming through, I'd say around 1100AM, indicating the dam was cracked and they were trying to pump out the water and evacuate the neighborhoods below the dam. I didn't think that much of it. I'd seen the reservoir and dam and didn't think it really contained all that much water. Plus, it seemed as though they were working on getting it under control. Who'd think the thing would actually give way? I'd say around 100PM (all these time estimates can be corrected by checking on the net, as the event was well chronicled, including film) I heard the desk manager (not Mr. C) ask for all patrons to come to the desk. His voice was calm, but his face appeared slightly pale. I had just got done cleaning the johns. Folks began to gather and he presently announced that the dam had broken and there was water in the street outside. He said there was no reason to panic and that it would be best to stay in the building. I believe I was one of the first to look out the front door to see what was going on. I can say I was stunned to see several feet of muddy, roiling water flowing west on Rodeo Road. And about that time the water began to come in under the door of the bowling alley. I was skeptical about remaining in the building as I had visions of water filling the building up to the ceiling and eventually drowning. As you may know, I lived a couple of blocks north at 5627 Bowesfield, on higher ground. However, I was concerned the water would eventually go there and possibly drown the Basenji (Candice) that belonged to the O;s with whom I was living at the time. So I hurried over to the west side exit of the building that opened on La Cienega, just north of Rodeo Road. About that time the water was rising and making its way north on La Cienega. I don't think it had gotten over the curb, but it was rising rapidly. There was a traffic jam as vehicles tried to move north on La Cienega away from the flood. But the cars were stuck. I remember being glad to be on foot! Some people began to desperately (and futilely) honk their horns to get the cars ahead to move, but of course they couldn't move either. I remember vividly someone gunned their car into the car in front, out of desperation and likely, terror. I kept running over to the house on Bowesfield about as fast as the water was moving. When I got there the street had perhaps 3 feet of water in it, but the house was still dry. I believe the water eventually reached the base of the porch when it finally began to recede. I checked the back yard for Candice and she was gone. I believe Jim O's Mom, Marie had already gotten the dog. As you know, I was into surfing and I had an 8'10 or 11" Dewey Weber surfboard somewhere on the property..probably the garage. I thought it would be a great idea to paddle it around the neighborhood to see what was going on. So I got it and began paddling towards the dam. The water level seemed to be stabilizing, so I began to believe the worst was over. I believe I was heading south on Clyde Street towards Rodeo road when I saw an elderly man clinging to a light post, like a flag to a pole in a breeze. I paddled over and hesitantly offered assistance. He agreed to let me try to get him on the board and paddle him home, a block or so away. As I recall, I had to get off the board, partly swimming and perhaps touching the ground, to get him loaded on the board. After some fumbling around, I managed to get him aboard, then I climbed on the back and began to paddle him home. After maybe 5 minutes, we got there, I paddled him up his driveway where he could finally get off on dry ground or shallow water and walk into his home. His wife was so happy to see him. As the water finally began to recede I paddled home and put my board away. I believe I then put on some rubber boots and picked my way through deep mud towards Rodeo Road, then turned east to survey the damage. It was unbelievable. For one thing, as I recall I didn't see anyone else out there. No rescue people, no sightseers, no one. I saw cars overturned and leaning at odd angles. I looked into a few, dreading to see drowning victims, but fortunately, I found no DB's. It occurs to me this may have been about 40 years ago to the day. The days were short and it was beginning to get dark. I'd say my walking tour occurred between 330 and 500, when I finally went home. There's a bit more to tell, but this is the essence of it. Later, Jim O and I got a job cleaning up a luxury apartment in the Village Green. After the first day of shoveling mud we were so sore we were all but useless the next day. I think we lasted about two days on that job when we quit. Some homes in the path of the flood were stripped off their foundations. I understand some of the two story buildings in the Village had water clear to the roof. Several people did drown, but it was miraculous that casualties were so low considering the devastation the flood wreaked. The fact that they had a few hours to evacuate the area was the reason so many lives were spared. Having seen the awesome damage first hand, made me realize what a miracle it was that so many people escaped. I don't think I ever went back to the bowling alley. I didn't even care about my last paycheck. A couple more items: When the bowling alley was being built, seems like one weekend, my buddy Jim O and I went over to check it out. We found a steamroller there, and Jim being a daredevil climbed aboard to see if he could start it. I got on too, an innocent bystander. Well sure enough, Jim started the damn thing and it began rolling toward the building. I was terrified and think I jumped off. Some workmen came running over, but I believe Jim figured out how to shut it off and away we went. I forget what the other thing was. Oh wait, it comes to me now: the reservoir road that circled the reservoir I understand was enjoyed as a place to "make out". Unfortunately I never enjoyed that experience. However, there was a switchback road that ran steeply down the face of the earthen dam. This was during the days of "soap box" derbys and the like. Well, Jim O and I once put together a two man coaster that we proposed to drive down that treacherous road. We finally put it together. Jim was to lie prone and steer the death trap with his hands, whilst I was to sit on the rear and operate the brakes: a couple sticks of wood nailed to the side of our rolling coffin. Fortunately, I don't think we went to the very top of the hill but made a test run beginning maybe half way down the hill. We launched and careened downward. I was rather hard on the wooden brakes. As I recall they began to smoke and wear to the point they no longer reached the ground. We were now without means to slow the beast. Jim was quite the athlete and made all the turns save the last one and we finally spun out in the dirt and slammed into the side of a hill. Jim slid off the front and sustained minor cuts and bruises. I slid off my seat, my thinly padded buttocks crashing into the hillside. Fortunately, we were both able to walk away unassisted. Steve C Regarding BeauMonday, December 15, 2003 Regarding Beau Definition: Beagle: a small hound with a short coat, short legs, and drooping ears, used in hunting small game. Beau, a Beagle puppy, first saw the light on October 15, 1987. He was a Christmas 1987 present for 7 year old Bryce Moore of 469 Hot Springs Road, Montecito, California. From the git-go a life of confined privilege wasn’t enough for Beau; he was born to wander. So amazing were his escapades that Bryce’s 11 year old sister, Katie began writing a cartoon "Beau of Hot Springs" for the local Montecito Life weekly. Some quotes from September 1, 1988 Montecito Life reveal much about one year old Beau’s character: "Beau has made the summer more exciting," says Katie. "He’s a real people dog. And he runs away real fast. one minute you see him, the next you’re getting a call about him." Katie’s mom Sharon notes that they receive a call about twice a week from various locations where the little Beagle has been found: "He’s traveled as far south as the Mira Mar hotel and as far north as the as Westmont College. Beau has also nosed around the dining room of Casa Dorinda, the bar at the Biltmore Hotel and the Chevron Station at 1085 Coast Village Circle. At Pane E Vinno, an Italian restaurant that recently opened on East Valley Road, Beau rubbed elbows with celebrity pop singer Michael Mcdonald. The beagle got to sit in McDonald’s van until the Mores came to pick him up. He even visited a convent. A nun named Sister Susan called saying that she had taken off her belt to leash Beau until we could come get him" This caption appears under a photo of Katie writing next to Beau perched atop a fluffed up pillow: "BEAU the beagle retains editorial control over the cartoon that bears his name. ‘Beau of Hot Springs’ is authored by Katie Moore. Yes, Beau was a wanderer and a true "peoples dog". He ran the gamut from swank bars to rock stars to nuns in convents. Beau would have it all. I first became acquainted with Beau when I drove into the Chevron Station noted above. I’d never picked up a stray before, but I could not resist Beau. He gazed up at me with his alluring, sad brown eyes, tentatively wagged his tail and I was done for. I wondered the chance of our meeting at this infinitesimal point in time and space. My other dog "Underdog" was about 9 years old and I rationalized he would benefit from the company of a younger dog. I would claim him for Underdog. So after inquiring around and not finding an owner, I trundled the untagged, mischievous purebred into my car. Underdog affably abided the errant intruder. As soon as I got home that February 1989, Friday afternoon I called all the local dog finder locations and left a message that a Beagle had been found. Part of me wanted him claimed, another part not. The next day I took Beau and Underdog to Santa Maria to go flying in my 1948 Bellanca Cruisair. After a bit of apprehension and a little airsickness, Beau finally settled in as my co pilot. His primary job was to look out the window perplexedly for a while, then take a snooze. Just like a real pilot. Camping out that night Underdog and Beau were cozily ensconced at the foot of my sleeping bag. During the night I left my sleeping bag for a moment. When I re entered the sleeping bag, I was surprised to feel a small furry object at the bottom. Bo Foo’ had decided to warm up inside the bag, and danged if he was going to come out! Well, he really wasn’t so big and he kinda kept my feet warm, so I just let him stay . Thus Beau established the practice where he slept anywhere he chose, including under my blankets. To enter, he would place himself at the top of the blankets and wait for me to lift them. Then he would nose his way in while I lifted in advance. Arriving at just the right spot he would turn a half circle, and flop down with a sigh. Returning from Santa Maria there was a message that someone had claimed the Beagle. I called the Moores and verified they were the owners. I took Beau over in my 1941 Dodge Power Wagon. Meeting the Moores was a delight. Bob Moore was amazed that I took Beau flying. Bob said he used to get carsick just driving a few blocks. But no more; a few hours driving and flying with me and he was forever an eager voyager. I dropped Beau off and told Bob if he ever wanted to give him up, I would adopt him. A few days later Bob called and offered me the dog. They were worried that Beau would be run over by a car given his propensity to run away from home. I picked him up that day and took him back to my ranch where Beau had so much to do exploring the back country, he never again wandered to Montecito. And taking him with me everywhere fulfilled his strong need to socialize with city folk. Beau eventually flew co pilot to Lake Tahoe, Oceano, Monterey, Paso Robles, Long Beach and many other California destinations; just like Schultz’s Snoopy. Beau lived an ideal life on my avocado ranch in Toro Canyon. . He had acres to roam, free from traffic. An ideal haunt for the hound that he was. He delighted in howling and pursuing hapless rodents and rabbits and chasing me on the motorcycle. He was clever and wary of coyotes and rattlesnakes, deftly avoiding danger. He had a funny way of running, skipping and hopping on one or the other back leg, his long ears flapping like wings, his nose snorting a millimeter off the ground. Beau was a mellow dog; he never growled or snapped at anyone. OK, maybe a big menacing dog or two, in self-defense. He wasn’t a "fetch dog"; he had no interest in chasing balls or sticks; leave it to the retrievers. He avoided water like it was toxic; leave it to the Labs. (though he was known to roll in bear poop or worse). Doing tricks, rolling over, shaking hands, etc. was way beneath his dignity; leave it to those fru fru dogs. When Beau lifted a leg it snapped up like a military salute. Sniffing around, his slender loins quivered with excitement. Some of Beau’s favorite things: Lying in front of the electric heater, gazing wistfully at me. Sleeping on my bed with his head on my pillow, pretending he’s me. Standing inside the house with his head sticking outside the dog door, surveying the outdoors. Playing keep away from Steve. Come here, Beau!! meant it’s time to head for the chaparral. Getting mad at me (for occasionally being left behind) and tossing my reading glasses or coffee cup into the weeds. Being carried like the Holy Grail while looking "I’m Special and Important". Hunting and howling over the country side. Snuffling and digging at holes. Beheading rodents and rabbits. Hanging out in the car looking forward to me to showing up. Dashing and weaving, hither and yon, while deciding if and when he would get in my car. Having his face or wide little feet tenderly massaged. Sometime around the beginning of April, 1998, I noticed that Beau was developing a persistent cough. After waiting about 3 weeks to see if his cough would clear up, I took him to White’s Pet Hospital in Santa Barbara. Expecting that he probably had some minor illness, I was stunned when Dr. Kathleen McFarlin informed me that Beau had heart disease and that his cough was due to fluid building up in his lungs. Unbelievable. Beau had seemed so strong, agile and invincible. He was still capable of keeping up with me on my motorcycle traveling around the ranch. I was convinced he would live to be 18 or 20 years old and now he was having heart problems at barely 9. I asked the Dr. if she didn’t think he would live at least another 4 or 5 years. I thought I was being pessimistic giving him so little time. When she said she did not think so, my heart sank. The doctor prescribed pills to get the fluid out of Beau’s lungs, and thus began the final days of Beau. Over the next two months and one week I did everything I could for Beau. He had many good days with practically no symptoms of disease. My hopes were raised at times he would last a few more years. Then there were some bad days and even worse nights. It was devastating for me to hear Beau cough. Two or three times I took Beau to the vet in crises fearing they would advise euthanasia. Each time he would rally and reignite hope. He never once seemed concerned about his own condition. He yielded no ground and made no compromises. He seldom appeared sad. He strained at his leash, following his nose. He pursued rabbits. He was amazingly quick and light on his feet...he could nimbly sprint some distance in defiance of his disease. I spoiled him more than ever those last days. His appetite was spotty and he lost some weight..from 26-28 pounds down to 21 pounds. I tried all kinds of food on him: hamburger, chicken, ribs, costly canned products, etc. Sometimes he would eat, sometimes not. I resorted to hand feeding him in order to "prime the pump". Sometimes it worked, sometime not. I took him on lots of extra walks. Each one seemed so important as I knew his days were numbered. Downtown Santa Barbara, Beau was always an attraction. Children were especially drawn to him. Clustering around him they would tentatively touch his tail, pat his side or his head. As was Beau’s wont, he paid little attention to human affection. He would ignore the fuss and strain at his leash to check out a bush or a post or some other object of doggie interest. Perhaps Beau’s maddening indifference to affection was due to the fact that he was so thoroughly loved by me. Beau knew he was absolutely safe, secure and adored. Flattering to me, but more likely his indifference was due to his own strong, hound dog sense of independence. Friday June 26, Beau was well. Stopping at the saddle to visit with Kerby Spicer, Beau dropped out of the car and caught a rabbit. Sunday night, June 28, was a horror. Beau was coughing so often I could not sleep for worry. Monday I took him to an alternate Vet in the afternoon where, by the time we arrived, he was doing better. His X-Ray’s looked improved; with little fluid on his lungs. I went home feeling much better. I gave Beau his evening pills and tried to feed him from any of 6 varieties of canned dog food. Nope, he wouldn’t eat. Then I tried to feed him some ham, and he went for it. He stuffed himself. He ate some dry cat food that he hadn’t touched for a couple of weeks. Then he drank and sated, went to sleep. About 2:30 Tuesday morning I awoke to Beau’s coughing. He was in terrible shape, not breathing at all well. In the morning I took him to the alternate Vet again and the Dr. was surprised at how quickly he had declined from the prior afternoon. As this Dr. was new to Beau’s history, I wanted to consult White’s again. White’s would not open for an hour. So I took Beau to East Beach for a look at the ocean. He got out of the car and went a little ways toward the ocean, but seemed to want to go back to the car. His coughing and labored breathing continued. I went to the East Beach Grill and ate some breakfast. Then I took Beau to White’s. Beau’s Dr.’s, Dr. Posch and Dr. McFarlin, were not available, much to my frustration. I made an appointment with the only other Dr. available for 12:30 PM and went over to a friend’s house. Arriving there, Beau had some difficulty climbing the stairs due to heart lung dysfunction. We watched a World Cup soccer match while I waited for my appointment. Beau’s condition was painful to witness. I decided to go back to White’s in hopes that Dr. Casau (White’s reputable heart specialist) would have a cancellation and I could get in earlier. Good news: the cancellation occurred and I got an 11:15 appointment with Dr. Casau. While waiting for my appointment, Dr. McFarlin came in wearing her civvies and pushing a bike. Turns out she was there on her day off to see another patient of hers. I was glad to see her, as I had great faith in her abilities and appreciated her compassion. She offered to be with me when Dr. Casau examined Beau. Finally, Beau and I went into the exam room. Beau was weighed and he had gained a couple of pounds (the ham and cat food)...good news. Dr. Casau read over the charts for a few minutes, then spoke. He said Beau’s condition had dramatically worsened. He had deteriorated from merely having heart disease to having heart failure. He was in respiratory distress due to all the fluid in his lungs. His heart rhythm was out of whack. Dr. Casau indicated the best case scenario for Beau was three more months, maximum. He would need to be stabilized and if that worked he would then have to go on digoxin and other medications that would toxify his body. Beau could have other heart valve problems that would make any effort to save him futile. It would be a short, roller coaster finish for Beau and for me. He said as a doctor he would like the challenge of sparing Beau. But he added that the right thing to do would be to euthanize him. It was an ambiguous answer. I wanted to be told what to do. Playing God is hell. This was the worst dilemma I could imagine. But I wanted it over with. I couldn’t bear seeing Beau suffer anymore. Feeling like Judas, I agreed to have him euthanized and signed the paper. Dr. Casau left the room to get the syringe. I began to sob while I frantically hugged and stroked Beau. Beau sat trustingly passive while a fresh white towel was placed beneath him. I have never felt more anguish in my life. I wept and stammered "you are a good dog, I love you, I’ll see you again, I love you, I love you... Dr. Casau returned. I watched the needle go into his left foreleg at 11:40 AM. The plunger went down. Beau shifted then sat still for 15 or 20 seconds...longer than I expected, then quietly slumped onto the table, lying on his left side. His eyes never closed and he never looked more beautiful in quiet repose. His labored breathing ceased, his sweet joyful life finished. It was hard to believe he was gone..he was still looking at me with his loving soft brown eyes. But the light was gone, and I was no longer a star. Filled with despair and crying helplessly, I hugged Dr. McFarlin. I told them I wanted to bury Beau at my ranch. She brought in a cubical box that looked too small. She said he could be curled up in there. I helped lift him into the box and he looked adorable in there. On the way home I stopped to get gas at a self serve. I forgot to take the gas hose out when I left and ripped it out of the pump. I went in and apologized then went home. On the way back I thought of everything I was going to do when I got there. First I would bury Beau, then I would get rid of everything that belonged to him. I didn’t want any reminders around. I drove down to the pond and parked. I was going to bury Beau next to Spanky in the shade of the oak tree by the little cabin we used to live in. Beau would be OK with that. I started digging a hole and Osiel came down to help. Since Osiel first got to know Beau, he had earned his trust. Beau loved the Mexican food, tortillas and chicken Osiel would so generously share with him. Eventually, Beau allowed Osiel to carry him; a privilege granted to few others On the way to vet this morning Beau and I ran into Osiel coming to work. I told him Beau might be gone soon and he tenderly hugged and kissed Beau for the last time. I got the box out of the truck and it was warm where Beau was lying. He was giving up the last of his body heat. I felt sick. I asked Osiel to leave then and wrapped Beau in a clean, faded blue towel. I placed his limp body into the hole and arranged him in a comfortable position; his nose pointed toward Spanky’s tail. Then I quickly covered him up. I placed a small wooden cross and two roses over his grave. I went up to my cabin and walked over to see my dad. Weeping, I told him what I had done. Then I called my mom and bawled a message onto her recorder. I started with the trucks removing Beau’s leashes, water bowls, medicine, and pillows. Then I went into the cabin and threw out the open dog food cans and placed the unopened cans and the new fleece lined bed I had recently bought him into my truck to give to Corey’s dogs. I closed his doggie door for the last time. I saved Beau’s chain leash that had belonged to Anne Hayden’s Basenji, "Boota". There was another leash I wanted to save and I had it in my hand to hang up...but it vanished. I was not thinking clearly. I also will save the Beagle book that the Moores gave me when they gave me Beau. Inside it says: "for Beau 10-15-87 to Bryce Dec. 1987". I will keep the September 1, 1988 Montecito Life article by Michelle LeJeune, about BEAU. I have so many memories of Beau. I cannot stop thinking he’s still here. He went everywhere with me. Approaching my truck I expect to see his little head peering out the window looking for me. Then getting in and seeing him give me that half hearted tail wag and flopping down on the seat next to me with a contented sigh. All is right in Beau’s world. It’s hard to believe but just looking at Beau’s cute little whiskers could make me smile and feel good. Do this for me and Beau: Please be kind to your pets. They don’t last long. They are innocents. Feed them and give them water. Give them lots of exercise, attention and love. Keep them cool when it’s hot and warm when it’s cold. Give them something soft to lie down on. If they are in your car, park so the car will remain in the shade as the sun moves. Windows open sufficiently for good air circulation. Let them out often to relieve themselves. Don’t ever let them get loose in the street! Consider neutering your pet..too many are destroyed because they cannot find a home. Your pet will mirror your treatment of them. Let it be a reflection of love and gentleness.
Steve
Baldwin TheaterThe Baldwin Theater I lived at 5130 Village Green (court one), Los Angeles, California from birth, 1943, to 1960. I watched as the Baldwin Theater went up in 1949. We kids didn't know what it was going to be. It looked like an airplane hangar without an airport. Once built, we enjoyed many a movie there. There was always a pretty young lady to dispense tickets from the ticket booth. All shows were double features with a cartoon in between. On special occasions multiple cartoons were shown. Movie posters behind elegant glass display cases in the luxurious, deep carpeted lobby, featured glamorous movie stars such as Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and Jane Russell. Admission under 12 was .09 cents then went to .11, .15, .25, etc. I believe adult admission was .50 or 1.00. My Mother and I once met Roy Rogers outside the theater. He was unforgettably kind and handsome in cowboy attire as he smiled warmly and shook my small hand. My Dad sometimes sent me off with a bag of popcorn to save on concessions. Though I was embarrassed, no one said anything. My Sister Ginny, clung to me during the Scariest Movie Of All Time, The Thing, in 1951. Sometimes kids would wedge the drapes in the side exits so other kids could dash in amid a brief flash of outside light. Or flatten their popcorn boxes and sail them gloriously in front of the screen. Uniformed ushers quickly responded to such unruly activity with spotty results. I often felt disoriented and depressed coming out into the glare after a long matinee of fantasy. Dorsey High held our Sr. graduation there in 1961. Someone sneezed during graduation and I could swear it was my Dad. Immediately after graduation I went to work at the Sutton's Union Oil Station on the south east corner of La Brea and Rodeo. Ben Sutton stuck out his hand to congratulate me and palmed off a $5.00 bill. St. Paul's Presbyterian Church, across the street, held Sunday Easter Services there. As area demographics changed in the late 50‘s and 60‘s, Sunday night became popular with well dressed African American audiences. In it's heyday The Baldwin was truly was an elegant theater. I went by there after a Dorsey High reunion in 2000. The theater was closed and in disrepair.
VernVern worked at Ben Sutton's Union Oil Station at La Brea and Rodeo in LA, c. 1960-63. He pumped gas like the rest of but his specialty was washing cars. He was a 32 years old black man, approximately 6'2" and 160#. He was handsome, sported a neat thin mustache, and had a great sense of humor. When my Dad's 1949 Dodge started burning oil so bad Ben said the pistons were doing flip flops in the cylinders, Dad sold the car to Vern, as is, for $25. A few weeks later, Vern said he lost the car in a poker game. I came to work once sporting new shoes. Vern looked down, stared a moment, then snapped straight and said with a big grin, “Steve, yo' feet ah smilin’!” Now and then he'd be late for work, or not show up, which greatly annoyed Ben who depended on him to wash cars. Since this usually happened on Sunday, it was suspected that Vern had been drinking and was too sick to come in. When Vern did finally show up, he'd sheepishly tell Ben that he'd “eaten some bad po’k chops.” Ben always forgave him and Vern would work like the devil when he got back on the job. He once told me, with a grave expression, that he was going back to school to "study 'lectric", then he burst out laughing. What got me onto this? Oh, I just received a Crosley replica of an old AM-FM radio and phonograph player. Before I plugged it in wondering if it would play, I thought of Vern. I don't recall the exact circumstances, but Vern once asked me in reference to an audio device "Steve, do it blow?" Afraid I can’t do justice to Vern’s mastery of Ebonics, both in gesture and words, but he was one unforgettable, cool dude. By the way, the Crosley do blow.
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