“The Jet Set” House: Frank Sinatra’s Glass Hideaway in Chatsworth

“Who lives here?” Don and Joy at the Fox Residence.

Watchers of “Mad Men” will recall Don Draper’s lost weekend in California (Season 2, Episode 11), in which he abandons Pete Campbell and an aeronautics convention to run off with Joy, a mystery woman he has met at the hotel. She takes him to this fabulous mid-century glass and steel house in Palm Springs:

Known as the Fox Residence, the actual house sits on a hilltop in Chatsworth, in the northern San Fernando Valley. Designed by Pereira and Luckman-also the architects of the former Union Oil headquarters where most of “Mad Men” is shot–the estate was previously leased by Frank Sinatra, who used it as a weekend retreat for a decade. Adding to its pedigree is the rumor that Sinatra introduced Marilyn Monroe to JFK here. Frequently filmed, the Fox Residence is on the market for around $12 million and appears to be in pristine condition:

http://money.cnn.com/video/pf/2013/07/18/pf-uh-frank-sinatra-party-pad.cnnmoney/index.html?iid=HP_River

Movie fans will know that Chatsworth’s role in the film industry goes back to the Silent Era, when westerns and other sprawling outdoor epics were shot on ranches established by studios and individuals for filming purposes. Chatsworth’s famous Iverson Movie Ranch dates from 1912; among the movies shot there are Buster Keaton’s “Three Ages” and “The Robe.” In the early years of television, Iverson was the location of almost every western series, including “Gunsmoke,” “The Virginian,” “The Lone Ranger,” and “Bonanza.” While Chatsworth is better known today as the epicenter of the adult film industry, its western heritage links it to every era of film and television. Thanks to the Fox Residence, Chatsworth also boasts an important mid-century location, as “The Jet Set” illustrates so well.

The “Mad Men” Season Finale, Part II: It’s the Light

What’s Wrong with this Picture?/Courtesy AMC

While it’s true that the variety of architectural styles found in Los Angeles allows “Mad Men,” set in and around New York, to be filmed here, there’s one thing that always gives it away: the light. Simply put, the light in Los Angeles is so different from the light found anywhere else in the world (with one exception; more on that later) that, like a brilliant supporting actor, it steals every scene.

The last scene of the season finale provides an excellent example. As Don Draper and his children approach his decrepit childhood home in Pennsylvania they throw long, sharply defined shadows on the street. Though it’s possible to throw shadows in the eastern United States in late fall or around the winter solstice, the 40 degree latitude in Pennsylvania would produce shorter shadows, while the weaker light would make them less defined.

Light is perhaps the greatest asset of the Southland, something that is constantly marveled at, studied, painted and written about. When people in LA talk about the climate, they are really talking about the quality of light, which at its fullest produces not only dramatic shadows but, depending on the time of year, no shadows at all. The best exploration of the light here, in my opinion, is contained in the 1998 New Yorker article, “L.A. Glows,” by Lawrence Weschler. In talking to visual artists, poets and scientists about LA’s light, Weschler discovers why the city looks the way it does. The astronomer Hal Zirin says it best:

…what happens here is that ocean-cooled air drifts in over the coastal plain and gets trapped beneath the warm desert air floating in over the mountains to the east. That’s the famous thermal inversion, and the opposite of the usual arrangement, where the warm surface air progressively cools as it rises. And the atmosphere below the inversion layer is incredibly stable….go out to the Santa Monica palisade and gaze out over the cool water. It’s completely clear and distinct, clean out to the horizon. The heat rising from the ground in most places…is in turn what makes stars shimmer and twinkle in the night sky….if you’re an astronomer you want your star–or for that matter, your sun–to be distortion-free: solid as a rock. And that’s what you get here. The stars don’t twinkle in L.A.

I had a dramatic experience of this phenomenon a few days ago, while looking down Fairfax Avenue. It was an exceptionally clear day that allowed me to see all the way to the ocean, some thirty miles south. But even more amazing than seeing blue in the distance was the fact that the furthest hills and houses were as sharply defined as those in the near distance. As I stared, the total clarity of the light threw me into what one of Weschler’s interviewees called “egoless bliss.”

But the true significance of the light in Los Angeles isn’t the mood it generates, or the peculiar suspension of time that makes Rip Van Winkles of us all. (To quote Orson Welles, “you sit down, you’re twenty-five, and when you get up, you’re sixty-two.”) It’s the reason the movie industry relocated to Los Angeles from the East Coast during the Silent Era: movies could be shot year-round with little or no artificial lighting. Roofless sets allowed interior scenes to be shot by natural light as well. By 1911, Los Angeles was the center of the movie industry, and has been ever since.

So when Don and the kids threw sharp shadows that were taller than they were, I laughed in recognition: they could only be in LA. But those who think there’s no place else on earth with LA’s light haven’t seen Morocco, the world’s only other coastal desert. Morocco’s identical thermal inversion creates the same light: strong, clear and unforgettable.

Additional Source:

“L.A. Glows,” by Lawrence Weschler. The New Yorker, February 23, 1998.

Related article:

The “Mad Men” Finale, Part I: Don Draper’s Childhood Home

Peter the Hermit in Studio City, 1950s

Peter the Hermit with Thareen and Mimi/Courtesy Stewart Edward Allen

From Stewart Edward Allen comes this photo of his two grandmothers with their friend Peter the Hermit. It’s the first color photo I’ve seen of Peter, and comes with this description:

I had two very eccentric grandmothers by the names of Thareen Auroraa and Mimi Reed.
They were terrific women who worked in Burlesque and “Showbiz” for many years.
They lived on Reklaw Drive from 1946 until their deaths in 2005.
They knew Peter the Hermit.
They loved him. They told stories of how we would come and visit them and sit in their home and say “This place has good vibrations.”
They said he would hang out. They would have something to eat with him. Knowing my grandmothers I am sure they had
a little drink or two too.

Peter certainly got around. Readers of this blog will know that he was widely photographed throughout his life in Los Angeles, and that his image turns up in all kinds of unexpected places. Coincidentally, just today I was shown another photo of Peter–an unusual cyanotype portrait done in the 20s by a well-known Hollywood photographer. I hope I’ll be permitted to show it in the future.

The Millennium Hollywood Project’s Historical Precedent: M. H. Sherman, the Water Board and the Development of the San Fernando Valley

M. H. Sherman (center) and the Board of DWP/Courtesy Los Angeles Public Library, Security Pacific Collection

The most striking thing about the Millennium Hollywood Project is not the height of the towers or its sprawling size, but a tidbit that was revealed during a hearing on March 28th, almost as an aside. It seems the head of the Los Angeles Planning Commission, architect William Roschen (of the firm Roschen Van Cleef Architects), is also the project architect for Millennium Hollywood. He recused himself from the meeting–but not, oddly, from his dual role in the creation of Millennium Hollywood.

As it happens, there is a precedent for this circumstance in Los Angeles’ civic history. While doing research for my documentary Under the Hollywood Sign, I learned that one of Hollywoodland’s key developers, Gen. M. H. Sherman, was buying up huge tracts of agricultural land for development in the San Fernando Valley during the same period–the late teens and early 20s. At that point, Sherman–for whom Sherman Way and Sherman Oaks are named–was also serving as Water Commissioner on the board of DWP, thereby controlling the commodity that was essential to the Valley’s transformation. Conflict of interest? Of course! But no one suggested he recuse himself from civic office, and we all know what happened to the farms and orchards that once filled the Valley. By wearing two hats, Sherman enriched both himself and his legacy as a City Father.

Until now, I thought such shenanigans were a thing of the past, yet here we see William Roschen about to benefit from the very project he is in the process of approving. Conflict of interest? You might think so, but at City Hall it’s only business as usual–just as it was a century ago.

Related article: https://underthehollywoodsign.wordpress.com/2013/03/30/the-millennium-hollywood-project-a-highrise-future-for-a-gridlocked-little-town/

Vintage Hollywood by Night, Part II

Hollywoodland and Lake Hollywood, Circa 1925/Courtesy Martjin Veltman

Hollywoodland resident Martijn Veltman sent me this photo after seeing Tommy Dangcil’s postcard in the previous post. He found it in a book on S. H. Woodruff, Hollywoodland’s developer, and we both agree it’s the same image, though heavily painted in the postcard version.

Vintage Hollywoodland by Night

Lake Hollywood and Hollywoodland, Circa 1925/Courtesy Tommy Dangcil

From Tommy Dangcil’s postcard collection comes this magnificent view of Hollywoodland and Lake Hollywood by night. Its date is obvious from the handful of houses sprinkling the hills: no later than 1925. At that point, Hollywoodland was just two years old, and what houses existed were newly built. In the coming decades, hundreds of new houses would spring up in Holllywoodland, but the contours of the land would remain the same. Also unchanged is Lake Hollywood, whose shape was determined by the canyon–Holly Canyon–that was flooded for its construction.

“I Love You, California”: the Song, the Era and the Ad

There’s a Jeep Grand Cherokee ad currently running on TV in California that features a jaunty song sung in warbling 1920s style. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGYR1C6wPo0
Over picturesque shots of the Jeep with the Golden Gate Bridge, mountains, desert, poppies, redwoods, beaches and the Hollywood Sign, we hear:

I love you, California,you’re the greatest state of all
I love you in the winter, summer, spring and in the fall
I love your fertile valleys; your dear mountains I adore
I love your grand old ocean and I love her rugged shore

I looked up the lyrics and was surprised to learn that “I Love You California” is our state’s official song. It also features a chorus and three more (in my opinion, far superior) verses that can be seen here: http://www.50states.com/songs/calif.htm#.UTGjrqWSTHg
Having spent most of my life in California, I find it more than a little odd that I had never heard “I Love You, California” played even once before Jeep decided to use it in an ad.

The lyrics were written by F. B. Silverwood (1863-1924), a Los Angeles clothier, and set to music by A. F. Frankenstein, the conductor of the Orpheum Theater Orchestra. The song was copyrighted in 1913 and was debuted soon afterwards by the opera star Mary Garden. “I Love You, California” was an instant success, and in 1915 became the official song of both the San Francisco and San Diego Expositions. It was also played aboard the S.S. Ancon, the first ship to sail through the Panama Canal.

For me, the song captures what I think of as the era of California Exceptionalism–the period between 1900 and 1940 when California had a burgeoning population and geographical remoteness from the East Coast and its culture. Californians–whether established or new–reveled in their state’s differentness: its non-European culture, its climate, its exotic crops, its dramatically varied topography. That California was a popular name for both boys and girls before WWII says a lot about state pride, as do the sentiments expressed in “I Love You, California.”

Apparently, the song is still played at the funerals of former governors, most recently Ronald Reagan’s. But wouldn’t it be nice if it were played at sporting events, and if children learned to sing it in school? Perhaps “I Love You, California” could pave the way for a new era of boosterism, one distinguished by a new-found interest in planting backyard citrus, and in naming babies for the greatest state of all.

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A Hollywood Newcomer’s Cabin, 1909

The Seldom Inn/Courtesy Tommy Dangcil

In early 20th century Los Angeles, it was stylish to send postcards of local houses–whether your own, a friend’s or a movie star’s–to the folks back home. When I met the local historian Tommy Dangcil last month, I was struck by the number of such cards in his collection. Because he had published a collection of postcards that included Hollywood homes (Hollywood 1900-1950 in Vintage Postcards, Arcadia) I knew about the phenomenon, particularly in regards to the mansions of local grandees. But I was more impressed by postcards of houses that were utterly ordinary–except, of course, for their exotic location.

The messages on such cards invariably express delight about life in Southern California–the houses, flowers and climate. The sense of departure from old norms is still palpable today, as in the card pictured above. Though the house is a tiny, unlandscaped cabin, it is brand new and–as the writer proudly attests–“Just three rooms but all we need for we are ‘Seldom inn’ unless it rains.”

Next time: “I Love You, California”: the song, the era and the ad.

Related post: https://underthehollywoodsign.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/visiting-tommy-dangcil/

Discovering a Piece of Hollywoodland’s Equestrian Past

The Front and Back Covers of a Hollywoodland Riding Club pamphlet, circa 1923/HopeAnderson Productions

Last Sunday I stopped by the Antiquarian Book Fair at the Santa Monica Civic. I was there to meet John Howell, a rare book dealer who had emailed to tell me about one of his offerings, a pristine pamphlet advertising the long-defunct Hollywoodland Riding Club.

Because all of Hollywoodland was once a ranch, there have been horses at the end of Beachwood Drive for as long as anyone can remember. In recent decades, horses have lived at Sunset Ranch, which offers boarding, lessons and trail rides to the public. But when Hollywoodland began in 1923, there was a riding club where homeowners could board their horses and learn to ride English-style, if they didn’t already know how. The allure of riding in the Hollywood Hills was a selling point for house lots, and figured prominently in radio ads for Hollywoodland:

Listen–the horses are stamping in their stalls-the sea breeze kisses the hilltops-while the birds weave melodies of happiness on the open trail. Your day in Hollywoodland-in-California begins with a song, and for a brief hour you canter on the wings of the morning–a shower-breakfast-and away for a day at the office, to return at eventide to the calmness of the hills, and there below you, watch a myriad of millions of lights twinkling in the distance.

Inside the Pamphlet, a Map of Hollywoodland

Although I had seen the pamphlet in a larger format, I wasn’t aware it was produced in this compact size. I wasn’t planning to buy it, but in the end I did, impressed by its excellent condition and historical significance. Anyone with an interest in California history should check out John Howell’s website, which offers a variety of books and images: johnhowellforbooks.com

John Howell

Visiting Tommy Dangcil

Tommy Dangcil/Hope Anderson Productions

Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting a fellow historian of Hollywood, Tommy Dangcil. He has published several books on his superb collection of old Los Angeles postcards, some of which I’ve used (with attribution, if not permission) in Under the Hollywood Sign. Tommy discovered my blog, liked it and recently emailed me about getting together.

His vast collection includes many well-known images and many more I had never seen before. Series of postcards depict the long-gone Hollywood mansions of Silent and Early Talkie movie stars, Hollywood streets (including such fascinating subsets as Hollywood Boulevard at Christmastime and the defunct Hollywood Flower Parade), the Krotona Colony and Hollywood churches. His knowledge of Hollywood history is encyclopedic, encompassing not only the development of the movie industry but the lives of its denizens over the past century. Dangcil, who was born and raised in Hollywood and attended Hollywood High, says he first became interested in Hollywood history by watching old movies on television. After graduating from college, he became a lighting technician and has spent over twenty years making movies including, “The Master,” “The Bourne Legacy” and “The Dark Knight Rises.”

Another book is in the works; in the meantime, Tommy has graciously allowed me to reproduce some of his images in my blog. As the first rule of historical documentaries is no words without pictures, I’m grateful in advance for these artifacts of Old Hollywood.

Books by Tommy Dangcil:

Hollywood 1900-1950 in Vintage Postcards, Arcadia, 2002

Hollywood Studios, Arcadia, 2007