April 2008 Archives

Photo of former Provost residence, 1195 N. Washington Ave., Pomona, by REN

As you may have seen, today's column is about Jon Provost, who played Timmy on "Lassie" from 1957 to 1964 and lived in Pomona from 1954 to 1959. You can visit his website and/or buy his autobiography, "Timmy's in the Well."

A few local tidbits were squeezed out of the column.

Provost had a role in "Country Girl" with Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly. Here's what Provost wrote in his book concerning his activities on April 1, 1955, shortly after he turned 5:

"I made a personal appearance at the United Artists Theater in Pomona where 'Country Girl' was playing. According to the Pomona Progress Bulletin, I ate five cans of Camp Fire Girls peanuts that night."

(Because he was a child, for a lot of stories he has to rely on published accounts or adults' memories.)

He debuted on "Lassie" on Sept. 8, 1957. At first he and his family had to go next door to their neighbors' to watch the show because the Provosts didn't have a TV.

With "Lassie," his personal appearances picked up. Within weeks of his debut, he was in the Pomona Christmas Parade -- although unlike certain people (ahem), he wasn't grand marshal -- and the Rose Parade, and he also made an appearance with Lassie on "The Jack Benny Show."

In 1959 he was in the May Day Parade in Cucamonga and weeks later, in perhaps a marginally more electrifying event, he was a guest at Disneyland for the dedication of the Matterhorn, Monorail and Submarine Voyage attractions. While there, he had the privilege (?) of sitting on Vice President Richard Nixon's lap during the parade.

Not bad for a kid from Pomona.

Anyone want to share memories of the "Lassie" show or of Provost himself?

Cows annually belch about 145 pounds of methane, which contributes to global warming. In fact, an L.A. Times report last week says methane has 23 times the warming potential of carbon dioxide.

You know what this means? Chino and Ontario are inadvertently going green.

Think about it. With their cows and ranchers migrating elsewhere as dairyland is replaced by homes, the two cities are drastically reducing their contributions to climate change.

Well, except for all the commuters who’ll move into those homes. One problem at a time, please.

One more anecdote from "The Diamond Mine," the radio book mentioned in Friday's blog. In 1968, Gerry Whitehead a.k.a. Jim Diamond was doing promos for KACE-AM (1570) in Riverside. The station launched an R&B show three nights per week called "The Soul Kitchen."

Among the advertisers: John and David's Soul City of Records in Pomona.

Whitehead recorded the promo. After a few seconds of Jr. Walker and the All-Stars' "Shotgun," his voiceover went like this:

"For the best in rhythm and blues, go to John and David's Soul City of Records. If they don't have it, they'll get it for you. That's John and David's Soul City of Records, 1110 South Garey Avenue in Pomona!"

Have mercy!

I like the era and the music, and I know Pomona's black population was booming in the late 1960s. The idea of a black-operated store named John and David's Soul City of Records really catches my fancy. It sounds very Tarantino-esque. I'll have to drive by 11th and Garey and see what's there now, but I can't believe it will be as interesting.

* Don J. sent me a Google map view of 1110 S. Garey. Soul City appears to have been located in a house.

[My dad is a sometime church organist and we had an organ in our house growing up (not that I do anything with music other than appreciate it). With this background, O was obvious. The organ featured below has since been rebuilt and reportedly sounds better than ever. This column was originally published Nov. 28, 2004.]

'A to Z' pilgrimage keys in on old organ

By my oath! Today the alphabet obliges us to orate upon the letter O in "Pomona A to Z," our omnium-gatherum of Pomona's ostentatious, and occasionally outre, offerings.

To which outstanding O shall we pay obeisance? Overlooking others, here are two contenders:

* Opera Garage, the opera house at Fourth and Thomas that later housed the valley's first Cadillac dealership. Now the building has stores below and artists' studios above. Its car-sized elevator still works, by the way.

* Orange crate labels, 4,000 of which are in the collection of the Pomona Public Library. Access many of them online at http://content.ci.pomona.ca.us/databases.html

Obdurately, I've chosen another O. Observe as we compose an ode to Pomona's mightiest O: the organ at Pilgrim Congregational Church.

This baby is 102 years old and has so many pipes, ranks and stops that by comparison, the Phantom of the Opera's organ sounds like a Wurlitzer.

Pilgrim Church is pretty stately itself. It's the red-brick, Gothic-style church at Garey Avenue and Pearl Street that dates to 1912 and covers a square block.

To demonstrate the organ's range for me one weekday afternoon, senior organist Mary Ferguson flipped the switches to set it humming to life.

The organ is housed near the altar but sunken behind a wooden screen so that Ferguson isn't visible from the pews.

Nestled behind the four-level keyboard, knobbed panels on either side, Ferguson resembled a pilot in a cockpit.

As she launched into "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow," the organ took off, rumbling and soaring.

"There's a lot of power there when you've got all that sound going," Ferguson said later.

Next she played part of a delicate Gregorian chant to show that the organ, like Sears, has a softer side.

Senior organist since 1986, Ferguson is called upon to play each Sunday and at weddings, funerals and church events.

Some couples planning weddings insist they don't want an organ, a sentiment Ferguson doesn't understand.

"They must think of an electric organ or even relate them to funeral homes," Ferguson said. "But you don't want to come into a church and not have an organ."

No one's come into Pilgrim Congregational in more than a century and not had an organ.

The church, founded in 1887, formed a "pipe organ club" in the 1890s to raise money. Its organ was ordered from Murray Harris Organ Builders of L.A. in a paired purchase with the local Methodist Church
to bring down the price on two.

Pilgrim's organ debuted on March 4, 1902, and has been in use ever since. The Methodists' organ is history.

Marjorie Ough, the first organist, was still at the keyboards in 1942 at the organ's 40th anniversary, when expansions had more than doubled the original 780 pipes to 1,906.

When Japan surrendered, ending World War II, a special V-J Day service included a fitting organ prelude: Grieg's "Triumphal March."

Looming large in Pilgrim's history is Frank Cummings, its minister of music for a half-century. He presided over upgrades that brought the organ to its present size.

Ferguson learned the ropes under Cummings, who had been her music teacher at Pomona High and who retired from the church in 1985. He set high standards, ones she's still mindful of.

The 71-year-old makes the drive from Glendora at least three times a week to practice for Sunday's service, which typically has nine pieces of music.

"This congregation is used to good music, and appreciates it," Ferguson said.

That appreciation is quiet, this being church. But at a 2002 service to mark her 50 years of music involvement, Ferguson got, quite appropriately for today's theme, a standing O.

The organ now has 3,245 pipes, from the 16-foot monsters visible behind the altar to ones as small as a cigarette, plus 56 ranks and 72 stops.

Fund-raising is under way for a $238,000 rebuilding of the organ to restore its full sound. About 100 notes are dead and others are out of tune. Ferguson plays around them.

Even limping, the organ is like an orchestra, all in one instrument. It can mimic chimes, trumpets, a harp, strings and flutes. (No, there's no setting for rumba or cha-cha-cha.)

"It's a very versatile instrument," Ferguson said.

I decided not to ask her to play "Louie Louie."

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, ostensibly.)

This week's restaurant: Dragon Inn, 8031 Archibald Ave., Rancho Cucamonga.

This place was recommended by Robert Karatsu back when I was asking about decent Chinese restaurants in the Inland Valley. Since then I discovered the exemplary Good Time Cafe and Peking Deli, both in Chino Hills. But I met Robert for lunch Thursday at Dragon Inn to give it a shot.

It's on the northeast corner of Foothill and Archibald. Belying the faded yellow paint on the exterior, the interior is quite nice, with Chinese prints on the walls, wooden chairs and smartly dressed servers. A short bar has a computerized register and that whole area resembles a Starbucks.

Right inside the door is a framed Jonathan Gold review of Chu's Mandarin in Rowland Heights, which he praised for its hand-pulled noodles. The connection? Mr. Chu owns Dragon Inn, in existence seven years, as well as Chu Chinese at Fourth and Milliken, which I've tried and liked. Chu's Mandarin, however, closed several years ago. But at least Dragon Inn has a good pedigree.

I ordered Szechwan Chicken Noodle ($6.95), figuring with its reputation I should get a noodle dish, and Robert got what he said was his usual, Shrimp with Broccoli ($12.95). His dish was average, mine was very good. Or am I biased? The spaghetti-like noodles were soft and chewy, in a slightly spicy sauce with bell peppers and mushrooms.

The menu is dumbed-down, as expected -- cream cheese wontons, anyone? -- but some interesting dishes surface, such as chow fun. Try a noodle dish and experiment with an appetizer or second entree.

Today's column is drawn from "The Diamond Mine," a self-published memoir by Gerry Whitehead, a.k.a. Jim Diamond, a radio jock from Bakersfield who grew up in Ontario. The first 80 pages or so are about Ontario in the 1950s and '60s and his radio habits as a youngster.

Back then, the valley, while small, had several radio stations. Here's what Whitehead tells us in his book.

In the late 1950s Ontario had KOCS-AM (1510), which simulcast on KEDO-FM (93.5). Both were owned by the Ontario Daily Report and located at 222 E. B St., next door to the newspaper's office.

Whitehead writes: "The station call letters KOCS did stand for something. O-C-S stood for Ontario City Service. The AM station, KOCS, signed on in 1946 with a mighty 250 watts and was originally a 'day-timer,' which means that it was licensed by the FCC to operate only from local sunrise to local sunset."

The station, if I understand correctly, was sold in the '60s and became KASK-AM. It broadcast from 8729 E. 9th St., Cucamonga, from a ranch-style house with three tall towers behind and a huge wooden cask in the parking lot.

Pomona, meanwhile, had KKAR-AM (1220) and KWOW-AM (1600). (KWOW was originally KPMO.) And San Bernardino had KMEN-AM (1290) and KFXM-FM (590).

This is all courtesy of Whitehead, who seems to know what he's talking about. Anyone want to offer corrections, clarifications, lore or favorite memories of local radio?

I maintain that the Super Tents at University of La Verne is that city's most striking building. But one can't help but be impressed by the Metropolitan Water District building.

The Foothill Cities Blog has details, plus photos. I believe the building showed up in "National Treasure 2." The MWD site gives more information, and its address.

(Incidentally, I appear to have won a contest on that blog as its 10,000th commenter. Although my suspicion is that they just liked my comment best.)

A beer truck tipped over on South Haven Avenue in Ontario on Wednesday morning, tipster John Corder phoned to tell me. The back was open, revealing that the truck was full of Bud Light.

"It wasn't light enough," Corder noted, "or it would have made the turn."

Ba-da-ba-bump.

In a blow to West End pie lovers, the Bakers Square restaurant in Claremont has closed. The location, at 710 S. Indian Hill Blvd., just above the 10 Freeway, was among 56 Bakers Square and Village Inn locations across the U.S. that closed after their parent company filed bankruptcy.

A total of 343 of the two restaurants remain in business, including the Bakers Square at 1401 Foothill Blvd. (at Wheeler) in La Verne. So there's that comfort.

Still, the Claremont location will be missed by some. "I really liked their strawberry/pineapple/coconut pie. . . .sigh. . ." reader Joanne Boyajian laments.

I'm more a Flo's and Corky's man myself, or even Marie Callender's, but I passed by the Claremont Bakers Square frequently and it will be a little sad not to see it there.

I dropped into Rhino Records on Saturday for the festivities, managing to miss the in-store bands who performed earlier and later. Too bad, as during the noon set by the soul-inflected Eli "Paperboy" Reed and the True Loves, an incident occurred.

"Local town color Ray Collins (of Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention) interrupted their set to tell them that they sounded great, but the horns were too loud," general manager Dennis Callaci said. "I don't think that is going to happen in the aisles of a Circuit City anytime soon."

At least Collins didn't say they needed more cowbell.

Despite missing that scene, I shopped happily, traded some discs and enjoyed the day's 10 percent discount. So did everyone else: It was Rhino's busiest day of 2008.

I picked up Van Morrison's new CD, "Keep It Simple," which is the best I've heard from him in 20 years. My other purchases, which I haven't had a chance to play yet, are CDs by new bands Vampire Weekend and Los Campesinos and best-ofs from bluesman Jimmy Reed and R&B singer Ruth Brown.

Wednesday marks William Shakespeare's 444th birthday -- don't forget to send him an e-card -- and the University of La Verne will mark the Bard-day with a three-in-one event.

First, a dinner of Shakespearean-era food -- roast beef, pasties (meat pies), etc. -- will be served from 5:30 to 6:30 p.m. in Davenport Dining Hall. Dinner is $6.99, or two-for-one. Bring a friend, or make one in line.

Second, at 6:30, Jeffrey Kahan, an associate professor of English, will give a brief talk on the Shake-man. In case you're questioning Kahan's credentials for this lecture, he completed his Ph.D at the Shakespeare Institute at the University of Birmingham. The one in England, not the one in Alabama. His talk will be on "Hamlet" parodies.

Third, at 7:30, comes a free dress rehearsal of "Hamlet" in a shortened, two-hour version by the ULV Theatre Department. The university says the play is co-directed by "renowned Croatian director Georgij Paro," a man who must be keenly aware of Americans' impatience. Stunt men will perform mock swordfights and offer tips on how they do it.

Says ULV spokesman Charles Bentley: "This is your chance to celebrate the birth of the world’s greatest playwright, get a taste of vintage British fare ('What foods these morsels be!'), listen to a noted scholar’s musings and experience possibly the most famous play ever (and in condensed form!)."

How can it miss? Visit the quaint hamlet of La Verne for "Hamlet."

In writing recently about the Funny Business comic book store relocating to 896 N. Garey Ave. from a few blocks north, the Goddess of Pomona blog got a bit poetic:

"Of course, in a perfect Pomona, Funny Business would be located in a respectable space downtown. But as we all know, Pomona is no Gotham City. Batman doesn't ever seem to come here to make things right."

Not so fast, Goddess!

My friend Pat read that blog post and sent me a note, as follows:

"The Caped Crusader DID come to Pomona. Adam West, in full Batman costume, cut the ribbon to open the Indian Hill Mall when it got its roof in '82.

"God help me for knowing this, but I was there and a young enough dork to find it quite thrilling! And shaking his gloved gauntlet was also a kick."

Batman hasn't been seen here lately, but perhaps business has been keeping him in Gotham (and Hollywood). Maybe if Chief Joe Romero got a Bat-Signal for the police HQ's roof...

[So, after a four-week hiatus, "A to Z" returned to the newspaper, rested and refreshed. I had to acknowledge the grungier side of Pomona somehow, and devoting the letter N to the city's ubiquitous 99-cent stores was the way to go.

This column was originally published Nov. 14, 2004.]

'A to Z' blowout: Nothing here more than 99 cents!

Welcome back to "Pomona A to Z," in which we shine a spotlight on that venerable city's splendors, one letter at a time.

Today brings us to the letter N. In a nutshell, Pomona has numerous and nonpareil nominees. Numbered among them:

* Neon, still lighting up signs on many mid-century buildings in Pomona, often originated by Pomona's Williams Sign Co., in existence since 1930.

* NASA/JPL Educator Resource Center, established in the Village at Indian Hill by the two agencies to jet-propel science materials into Pomona schools.

* Newspapers, including the Inland Valley News, the area's only black-owned paper, and the Butcher Paper, a journal coming soon to the Arts Colony.

* National Hot Rod Association Museum at Fairplex, a nifty place for car nuts.

Not to be narrow-minded, but our N is none of the above. Instead, we'll recognize Pomona for its niche as the discount capital of the Inland Valley.

N is for 99 cents stores.

True, this isn't the most glamorous honor, but discount shopping -- think Indoor Swap Meet -- is part of Pomona's identity.

Drive any major street here and you'll see some entrepreneur's variation on the 99 Cents Only chain's concept in almost every strip mall.

They have such names as 99 Cents Plus or, for people who want to save a penny, 98 Cents Plus. My personal favorite, Indian Hill Discount Store, bears the Chinese menu-like motto "Nothing Over 99 Cents Except Few."

My tour guide to this world was Willie Campos, a free spirit known in the Arts Colony for his love of cheap eats and treats.

"Everybody calls me Free Willie because I get everything for free," Campos told me. "I'm going to write a manual on how to live for free."

In the meantime, Campos led me around the 99 Cents Only Store on Holt Avenue, conveniently located within walking distance of his house. Visiting the chain store is one of the bright spots of his day.

"I know where every single item in this store is," Campos bragged.

He took me up and down the aisles, grabbing random items and shouting, "This would be $2.50 at Stater Brothers! Look at this. It's only 99 cents!"

Campos especially likes the Gourmet Fancy Foods section, where he sometimes picks up canned salmon. "I put this on bread with mayonnaise. It's better than tuna," he confided.

A 50-year-old with such disparate jobs as truck driver, mobile disc jockey and environmental engineer, Campos has been shopping at discount stores for a decade.

Although he first thought they were for poor people, he's come to believe they give consumers what they want: low, low prices. Grocery stores are cutting their own prices to compete, he said. Not that he goes there.

"I do all my shopping here!" Campos exclaimed.

He loaded a basket with two Gary Cooper DVDs in paper sleeves, three rolls of toilet paper, four Ginseng drinks (priced at two for 99 cents), a two-pack of John Morrell smoked sausage, a razor and three containers of shredded Gouda cheese.

Grand total: $10.33.

Outside the store, Campos wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

"I'm exuberant with my great purchases," he admitted.

Nearby in the same strip mall is La Barata Discount Mart, a mom-and-pop outlet squeezed into a narrow storefront.

It's these sort of places that spawned the 99 Cents Only chain, Campos said, adding cultural anthropologist to his resume.

"They're mostly ethnic stores. They started off like this: Little stores with goofy stuff. You never know what you're going to find," he said.

Manager Hugo Munoz said La Barata has morphed into more of a swap meet with items of all prices.

"We have to compete with the big guys. You have to carry stuff they don't have," Munoz said.

From there, Campos and I hit a couple of locally owned under-a-buck stores. I drove him to First Bargain 99 Cents on Holt Avenue, which Campos admires for its wide aisles and 98-cent glass picture frames.

On South Garey we found 99 Cost Bargain, where a car outside bore a bumper sticker reading "I have a black belt in shopping."

Campos recalled that he once bought enough bargain-priced halogen lights at this store for his whole house.

As he had things to do and people to see, I drove him back to his car. (He'd saved money, I realized, by getting me to drive him around.)

"I can't wait to get home," Campos told me, thinking back on his morning's big purchase, "and put some Gouda on a baked potato!"

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, normally.)

Last Sunday's column about handwritten letters proved a hard one to write. Yes, even on computer. I churned out a draft Friday morning and, dissatisfied, started over again after lunch.

For the heck of it, below is the first half of my draft. As you'll see, it has a cute opening but quickly loses steam. The details of who David Grossberg is and what he's doing are rendered as a chunk of exposition, one that soon becomes either confusing or tedious, or maybe both. (The second half of the draft was closer to the final version so no need for that here.)

In the published version, I began with Andy Rooney, which was a better hook, and the explanation of Grossberg's research flows (I think) more naturally. Writers may find the comparison of the work product and the published version of interest.

There may be some who prefer the first. There may also be some who'd prefer a third version, but as I wrote the second one right up until deadline at 5 p.m., that was as good as I could do in the time allowed.

***

HANDWRITTEN LETTERS are fading away, just like telegrams, personal modesty and Hillary Clinton.

It’s a shame in some ways. For one, the younger generation will never have to muster the concentration to decipher Aunt Gladys’ palsied scrawl, the way we had to. Unfair, isn’t it?

An Ontario insurance agent is concerned enough about the decline of handwritten letters to be carrying on a correspondence on the subject with people like Hugh Downs, P.J. O’Rourke and Florence Henderson.
Grossberg as a sideline writes articles for Autograph magazine, for autograph collectors like himself, on such fussy topics as quill pens.

Curious how people feel about the way e-mail has overtaken pen and paper, Grossberg in December began researching his next article. He sent off query letters to various middle-aged and senior celebrities at their homes, the better to ensure a personal response.

The next thing he knew, Morley Safer was calling him — he’d put his phone number at the end of his letter — to say he prefers real letters. Jay Leno did the same.

Then Andy Rooney, the recipient of one of Grossberg’s letters, devoted one of his syndicated newspaper columns to the subject.

The first line: “Because I’m uncertain about whether ‘Ontario, CA’ is in California or Canada, I don’t know where David Grossberg lives but he has written me a good letter about handwriting.”

Either he was kidding or he didn’t see the ZIP code as a tipoff.

Ever the contrarian, Rooney isn’t alarmed about what Grossberg called “the disappearance of the thoughtful, handwritten letter.” He prefers typed letters or e-mail.

“Too many people have unreadable handwriting,” Rooney wrote. “I get a lot of handwritten letters that are hard to read and most of them aren’t worth the trouble if I spend the time deciphering them.”

Rooney also sent Grossberg a letter (typed) reiterating his points and tossing a barb at Grossberg’s office address: “211 West ‘B’ St.’ is one of the most characterless addresses I ever wrote and if I lived there I’d move.”

Ontario’s downtown redevelopment project forced Grossberg to move from Euclid Avenue, a name Rooney might have liked better.

As of last week, Grossberg had received some 40 responses, with more coming in. He has them all in a binder.

“Turns out I hit a much bigger nerve than I thought,” he told me.

He claims to be evenhanded about handwriting versus typing — “My own opinion is that there’s a place for both” — but his correspondents certainly interpreted his letter as pro-handwriting. Some thanked him for doing his part to save correspondence by highlighting the issue.

Ironically, his letter was typed on a computer because his handwriting is so poor — a fact some replies noted.

Pat Buchanan wrote: “Handwritten letters are an anachronism — regrettably, as your typed or machine-written letter testifies.”

This week's restaurant: Viola's Deli, 17715 Arrow Ave., Fontana.

It's rare that I visit Fontana for anything. We don't officially cover Fontana anymore, that duty being left to our sister paper The Sun, and downtown Fontana is so far from our Ontario office (15 miles) that it's impossible to get over there on a lunch hour.

After Pomona's State of the City luncheon, though, Fairplex CEO Jim Henwood, of all people, was telling me about a little deli in Fontana. A native New Yorker, Henwood said Viola's Deli made cold subs in Big Apple style: shredded lettuce and olive oil tucked inside a tube of cold cuts and cheese, the whole thing inside a roll laid flat for just moments on a grill. (I think I'm remembering this right.)

So I began looking for an excuse to go to Fontana. Conveniently, the new library, which I've been hearing about for two years, is opening and as a library fancier, I intended all along to check it out. Arrangements were made for a tour at 1:30 Wednesday, which allowed me to combine the trip with -- yes! -- lunch.

Naturally, Viola's was my choice. I was joined by reader Tom Leak, a Fontana resident and real sandwich maven, who treated, which was awfully nice of him. Good ol' Fontana hospitality.

Viola's is at Alder and Arrow, across from the Fontana courthouse and a little east of downtown. Viola's shares a small building with a law office. The deli is an unprepossessing place with a counter and a dozen two-chair tables.

I got a capocolla sub and Leak had the oli. (He's not sure what the oli is but he liked it.) Mine was as Henwood had described it, and very tasty.

Cold or hot subs are $4.29 (small) to $5.35 (large). Viola's also makes brownies, cakes and cookies; one of the lunch specials gives you a sub, soda and piece of cake. I'm thinking of applying for work at the law office.

Another menu item may be coming. A handwritten sign on the counter polls customers: "Would you prefer a steak, chicken or turkey pot pie?" Based on the hash marks, turkey and chicken are in a dead heat, with steak lagging far behind with three votes. It's too late for California to decide on Hillary or Barack, but the Viola's pot pie election is on.

My column on “Moby-Dick” prompted an invitation to the rare book room of Scripps College’s Denison Library, where librarian Judy Harvey Sahak, who tendered the invite, brought out a special edition of Melville’s classic for me to peruse.

It was my first visit to the rare book room, and the place is impressive, with scads of old and limited edition tomes, including an enormous Medieval choirbook from the early 1500s.

My copy of "Moby-Dick" was purchased at a Starbucks, of all places, where it was sold amidst mugs and bags of coffee. The novel's first mate is named Starbuck, the apparent connection.

This version, as Harvey Sahak had suspected from comments in my column, is a paperback reprint of the deluxe edition published by Andrew Hoyem, a Pomona College alumnus and much-lauded printer, in 1979. Photographs of each page were taken for the paperback to reproduce the way-cool type and the woodcut illustrations.

Well, Harvey Sahak showed me Hoyem’s hardcover original.

Only 265 copies were printed. The paper is heavy and bluish-gray, like the sea, and was handmade in England. Consequently, the book is six inches thick. Its dimensions are roughly 18 inches by 30 inches. Original cost: $1,000. It's a thing of beauty.

We rested the book on a table — oof! — and I read a few favorite passages. Quite a novel, and quite an edition, and it was very nice of Harvey Sahak to invite me over.

Bang for the buck, though, I’m content with my $25 “Moby-Dick.” Especially since it was discounted to $10, which represents 1 percent of the original hardcover price.

Call me practical, as well as Ishmael.

Today's print column mentions Record Store Day, a promotional event. OK, it's a gimmick, but one I'm fine with supporting. Record stores, bookstores, comic book shops -- these are as much my home as my actual home.

The event is Saturday. You can read about it on the official site, which includes a bunch of quotes from prominent musicians and music lovers (I like the one from writer Nick Hornby) and a list of participating stores, albeit no information at all as to the whys and wherefores. We can imagine why, though: Downloading, Amazon and Best Buy are killing record shops. Thus, they're trying to promote themselves, and good for them.

Rhino Records in Claremont appears to be the only local store participating, not that there's a lot of competition, other than Dr. Strange in Rancho Cucamonga, which is punk-only, and Glass House Records and Needles and Pins, two small shops in downtown Pomona.

Anyhow, Rhino's site gives the details on its plans: live music, exclusive 7-inch and LP-only releases, giveaways and a parking lot sale, plus 10 percent off all merchandise. The store, at 225 Yale Ave., is open 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. that day.

It's billed as the "first annual" Record Store Day and one can only hope record stores exist long enough to have a few sequels.

Feel free to post comments about record stores of the present and past.

Just read a fun, informative piece in the March 31 New Yorker, "Penny Dreadful," about small denomination coins and why they persist. It costs 1.5 cents to mint a penny, 10 cents to mint a nickel, "a condition known in the coin world as 'negative seigniorage,'" David Owen writes.

Efforts in Congress to stop producing pennies have been blocked -- in 1990, 2001 and 2006 -- by the powerful zinc lobby (seriously), which commissioned research on how much "rounding up" by merchants might cost consumers. In 1990, an average of $2 per American. Gasp!

Owen is skeptical of the impact. He notes that Americans are so anxious to be rid of pennies and other change that they're willing to pay Coinstar's fee of 8.9 percent of any amount fed into its supermarket redemption machines. He proposes dumping the nickel and dime while we're at it.

One fun statistic from his article: "Breaking stride to pick up a penny, if it takes more than 6.15 seconds, pays less than the federal minimum wage."

I still pick up pennies. My big thrill, though, came three years or so ago at Pomona College, when lying there on the sidewalk was a $20 bill, with no one around. Needless to say, that was worth stooping over for.

A couple weeks back I saved this snippet from a "Hal Linker" note -- since there've been about 97 since then, I can't remember which one -- because it's about a place that comes up frequently: The Midway.

Celebrated in Kem Nunn's novel "Pomona Queen," the Midway was a bar on Foothill Boulevard between Claremont and Upland in the 1960s and 1970s. Various readers have told me about it over the years, calling the place a dive, but in a fond way. Here's what "Hal" had to say:

"It was somewhere between Central and Monte Vista on the south side of the road. It was at the approximate location of some current tattoo, piercing and massage businesses.

"They used to have bumper stickers which read 'Meet Me at the Midway.' Anybody got one?"

And anybody want to share Midway memories?

[I remember that Peter Apanel, who helped suggest this series, figured I'd do all 26 "Pomona A to Z" columns in a row, three times per week, wrapping the whole thing up in nine weeks. Yeah, they'd have loved that in Upland. Even writing one per week was proving difficult, and with the research time, it was impossible to get ahead on them. So, to give myself a breather, I put the series on hiatus a few weeks.

If you're keeping track, this column was originally published Oct. 17, 2004.]

Pomona needs a boost, so 'A to Z' lends a helping hand

For those who came in late, it's B for Break here for "Pomona A to Z."

Yes, my series is taking a mid-point hiatus for battery recharging. Have no fear: "A to Z" will resume soon with the letter N -- in November, naturally.

Consider today's column a "DVD extra," providing exclusive commentary on the series. (As with any DVD bonus, feel free to ignore it.)

Let's start with a question from reader Phyllis Willis: "Enjoying the series, and just how did you happen to choose this subject?"

Phyllis, it was a PBS documentary, "Pittsburgh A to Z," that inspired this little series of columns. As for why Pomona, I'm convinced it's the most fascinating, diverse, urban and downright funky city in the valley.

There's a second reason. Reputation-wise, Pomona is sort of the local version of Pittsburgh. It's the underdog, the gritty place everyone jokes about, puts down or avoids.

Now, Pomona's certainly got its problems, but as they say, perception lags behind reality. Unfortunately, the city's steady turnaround hasn't sunk in for a lot of people who remember only too well the bad old days when Pomona hit bottom.

Poignantly enough, those blinders are worn by a lot of Pomonans, too.

Maybe I'm stepping out on a limb here, but let me share an observation. Longtime Pomonans often rhapsodize about how great their city was in the old days and how awful it is today.

Yes, Pomona fell far and hard. But 40 years is long enough to cry over spilled milk. Besides, lost aerospace jobs and a withered downtown are hardly issues particular to Pomona.

So part of my mission with "Pomona A to Z" is to say, hey, let's appreciate Pomona for what it is, not just for what it was.

To that end, you may have noticed that every single one of my choices and runnerups is still around today.

That's deliberate. Ditto with focusing some weeks on very modern aspects of Pomona, whether it's the mix of cultures or the clubs and restaurants favored by a new generation.

Enough from me. Here's what you had to say:

* Ray Bragg: "I appreciate and read with enthusiasm your 'A to Z' choices for Pomona. It is refreshing because you haven't just fallen back on the easy, 'old,' historical alphabetical choices. Instead, you have blended them with 'new' choices, because that is what makes a city vibrant -- it has the capacity to change over time..."

* Pat Page: "It is good to see something positive for a change."

* Jaime: "Just wanted to tell you that we look forward every week to your series. Don't change anything."

* Ruth Wells: "I have kept them all. ... Very interesting are the various items listed but passed by for each letter."

* Gene Harvey: "When you start looking in detail at one city, you find out all the interesting things about it."

* Teresa Delgadillo: "(Your series) informs me about the city which I've lived in for 12 years. ... I actually cut out your articles and go see some of the places you refer to that I don't know about. Second Street Bistro is probably the best ... my boyfriend and I tried it and it was fantastic."

* Fred Goul: "You are doing a great job with the alphabet soup for Pomona. Suggest you might change the ground rules for the second half of the Pomona alphabet and combine some of the letters. Besides, just
how much material can you find with Q, V or X on Pomona?"

* Monique Ramirez: "I couldn't believe that nobody has written you since the letter I. Well, I just wanted to say that I love reading the 'Pomona A to Z' columns. I'm a third-generation native of Pomona."

* Bernice Alexander: "Although I live in Upland, I am enjoying your thoughts on Pomona."

* Danny McColgan: "Just wanted to say that I do like your 'Pomona A to Z' articles, being a second-generation Pomonan who started reading and delivering the Prog when I was a youngster in the early
'60s."

On a personal note, the 10 responses this week were more than I'd received for all 13 "A to Z" columns combined. So I appreciate the support. This series might be the most fun I've had in 17 years in journalism.

Coming up: More of the same. I know it's a bad thing when John Kerry says it about a second Bush Administration, but I hope you'll enjoy N through Z anyway.

Especially Q, V and X.

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, in that order.)

Sunday's column is about David Grossberg, an Ontario man who sent letters off to a bunch of older famous names to get their opinions on the decline of handwritten correspondence in favor of e-mail.

Snippets from their replies are in the column. Here are a few others I liked:

* Rex Reed: "What significance in a sophisticated society does a 'smiley face' have, and what in tarnation does LOL mean?"

* P.J. O'Rourke: "Rudeness and sloth in the guise of 'informality' exert their perennial appeal ... When words had to be carved in stone, we got the Ten Commandments. With the quill came William Shakespeare. The fountain pen produced Henry James. The typewriter, Jack Kerouac. And all we have to show for the computer is the blog."

Hey!

* Lee Iacocca: "Writing a personal letter to someone has always been important to me. I have the original handwritten letter I wrote to my father the day I was made president of Ford Motor Company."

* Hugh Downs: "Etiquette is after all, kindness, and it can be manifest in the terse realm of e-messages."

* Jack Kemp: "While I do email and messaging on my Blackberry, there's nothing like a written letter to convey sincerity, honesty and the integrity of meaning."

* Andy Rooney, who wrote a column about Grossberg's letter, also sent him a typed reply. Referring to Grossberg's insurance office address in downtown Ontario, the letter's last line grouses: "'211 West 'B' St' is one of the most characterless addresses I ever wrote and if I lived there I'd move."

Until the downtown redevelopment project forced him to move his office, Grossberg had an address on Euclid Avenue, a name Rooney would probably like. Grossberg got a kick out of Rooney's column and letter and plans to frame them and hang them prominently in his office.

Look for my column in the paper or online on Sunday.

This week's restaurant: Malott Commons, the Scripps College dining hall, 10th and Columbia, Claremont.

I was going to write a favorable post about Omana's, a Juanita's-like taco stand at about 1000 W. Holt Ave. in Pomona, near St. Joseph's church, where I had a good burrito before Monday's council meeting. (At Omana's, not at St. Joe's.) Tacos are $1 to $1.25, burritos are $3 to $3.50 and plates are $4, so you won't spend much dough. My carne asada burrito had meat, beans and salsa. It was ruder than most neat American-style burritos, but quite good.

However, I was invited to lunch Thursday at Scripps by Judy Harvey Sahak of the college's Denison Library. Claremont Colleges' food won a deserved rave from a visitor and blogger from Occidental College. I ate last year at Pomona College's Frary dining hall and was impressed.

Harvey Sahak bragged that the Scripps food service is the best of any of the colleges and told me I had to try it.

Well! It's all you can eat, and I can't even tell you all the stuff they had, they had so much. Let's see: a good salad bar; four kinds of soup, including sourdough bread bowls; an array of gourmet-style hamburgers, deli sandwiches and paninis; four varieties of wood-fired pizza by the slice; a pasta dish called eggplant roll-a-tini; barbecued beef brisket and cornbread; meatball stromboli; and vegetarian dishes cooked to order.

I had cream of asparagus soup, pizza with tomato, salad, meatball stromboli (a sandwich in a pita-like bread) and a slice of beef brisket. For dessert, frozen yogurt. Plus an iced tea. Harvey Sahak insisted on treating. Price is $5 for colleges folk and $7.50 for anyone else, not that anyone checks ID. Anyone can eat at the college dining halls, and while they don't exactly publicize that fact, they don't discourage the public.

Best dining deal in town. And the food is a long way from mac and cheese and mystery meat.

In a satisfying boost for my ego, I was even recognized by a couple of readers, a college employee and her mom. All in all, a pleasant outing.

Omana's is still cheaper, but not by much.

Thursday this blog hit a milestone: its 1,000th reader comment, courtesy of Kristin McConnell. Cool, eh?

Granted, probably 82 of those 1,000 comments are from "Hal Linker," but it's still an impressive number. It seems that as long as I write about nostalgia or food this blog will never get lonely. (To paraphrase Bogie in "Casablanca" about the letter of transit.) Sometime I'll have to write about nostalgic food and see if the blog explodes.

Anyway, thanks to all for contributing.

Had lunch Wednesday at Shalimar Garden, a combination Pakistani/Chinese restaurant at Holt and Main in Pomona. (The building, which began as a Bob's Big Boy, has gone through many permutations.) Referring to the twin cuisines, reader Bob Terry advised me: "Be sure to let us loyal readers know how the tandoori eggrolls are, or the orange peel lamb."

Of course the cuisines aren't really mixed. I had a beef dish whose name I don't recall (it was No. 14) and it was pretty good. There was only one other customer there, not a good sign. My waiter, who's Chinese, said when a customer orders off the Chinese menu, he goes into the kitchen to make it himself.

Other combination restaurants I'm aware of: Giuseppe's, an Italian/Middle Eastern place in San Antonio Heights; Golden Wok, which has burgers, donuts, Chinese food and Louisiana fried chicken, in Pomona; and Walter's in Claremont, with Afghan, American and Italian food.

Bon appetit!

Waldo Peirce, a American painter and bohemian (1884-1970), may be most celebrated for playing one of the all-time great practical jokes. This took place in the 1920s when he was living in Paris. I learned about it from Bob Dylan's XM Radio show last year about April Fool's Day.

Here's how Wikipedia tells the tale:

"Peirce ... made a spontaneous gift of a very small turtle to the lady who was the concierge of his building. The lady doted on the turtle and lavished it with care and affection.

"Peirce then began to sneak in and replace the turtle with smaller and smaller ones, to her bewildered distress."

As Dylan ended his version: "Waldo Peirce, a man after my own heart."

The vanished community of Narod, which usually makes me think of the insult-name Nimrod, was pronounced NAY-rod. Located in then-unincorporated territory that is now part of Montclair, Narod retains a certain cachet among oldtimers, as well as those of us who like funny names.

Here's a portion of an e-mail from Bill Gunn, a former Ontario boy (his dad owned a typewriter shop downtown), who tells us a bit more about Narod:

I knew Narod very well. My mom had friends that were down and out who lived there in the late 1940s and we used to visit and help them out.

Narod was for very poor people, illegals and folks drawing minimum social security, etc. But for a 5- to 10-year-old boy it was just another interesting place to explore."

The lore on Narod, incidentally, is that it was named by a railroad man named Doran, who simply reversed his name. Anyone want to add other facts, near-facts or good guesses about Narod?

This e-mail came in response to a column a few weeks (yikes) ago about the Ontario house with the topo maps. I meant to post the e-mail here but it slipped past me. Well, better late than never, here's what George Ehrnman had to say. I like the part about how he and his wife met:

Read with interest, as always, your column on the house on Rosewood Court with the wall of topographic maps. I would like to elaborate on a couple points.

When my wife, Sammy, and I were students at Chaffey High School (Class of '54) she and her family lived on Mills Avenue, which formed the boundary line between Los Angeles and San Bernardino counties. West side of the street - Pomona. East side of the street - S.B. Co.

I used to drive her home after school, going along 4th Street which became San Bernardino Road; if memory serves me the change point was Central. This was, and still is, like Mission Boulevard becomes 5th St. in Pomona. (She may have been "bussed" on the way home too!)

During that time the greater now Montclair area was not known as Narod. Narod was a much smaller area along Central. I believe the larger area was known to the residents as Monte Vista, after the name of the Monte Vista Water District that serves the area. But there was no Monte Vista Post Office and my wife's family got their mail at a box in the Pomona Post Office.

At some point, late '50s or early '60s, the good folks of "Monte Vista" decided to incorporate as a city, but they were denied a post office by that name because it was already taken. A check of a current AAA map of California reveals no city called Monte Vista -- perhaps it has been swallowed up into a larger city. So they looked to their neighbor on the west and turned Claremont around to Montclair and got their post office. I think Montclair sounds better than Omapom, don't you?

A final irony. My wife and I now live in one of those tiny spots on the old maps, Alta Loma, on a street called Monte Vista.

Thanks, George. And nice of you to provide your future wife "buss" service.

[To pay tribute to Pomona's Arts Colony, M was for Magu, the city's most lauded artist. A couple of years back, he moved to Ontario for cheaper rent, I'm told, but he's still an important figure in Arts Colony lore. This column was originally published Oct. 10, 2004.]

An up-close look at Magu, artist of note -- and cars

The magnificent madness that is "Pomona A to Z," my series examining the municipality one letter at a time, this week moves to the letter M.

Which M will represent Pomona in this miscellany? Among the multitude:

* Mission Family Restaurant, a coffee shop dating to the 1940s as Hull House that still ladles up hearty fare downtown.

* Masonic Temple, a grand building at Thomas and Fourth erected in 1909.

* Mountain Meadows Golf Course, a public course adding 18 holes of gentility to Ganesha Hills.

* Mother Smith, who in 1936 founded Casa Colina Centers for Rehabilitation.

* M & I Surplus, your one-stop shop to prepare for the apocalypse.

Marvelous! So which M will be Pomona's milestone? Showing my moxie, it's none of the above.

M is for Magu.

Who's Magu, you ask? That's Gilbert "Magu" Lujan, the pioneering Chicano artist from East L.A. who now calls Pomona's Arts Colony home.

His credo is hard to argue with.

"I aim to reflect Latino experience in art," Magu told me.

But how he does it doesn't conform to the fine arts world.

Lowrider cars, pyramids, Mexican altars and bright, bright colors are among his hallmarks.

He once put on a slide show for art students at UC Irvine. Subject: graffiti. He views it as ethnic calligraphy.

"That's not art. That's what you people do," one student told him.

Yet Magu is no primitive: He has a master's in fine arts.

As he tells it, teachers always advised him to draw from experience. Is it his fault his experience involves classic cars and junk-art barrio gardens?

Early criticism only emboldened him.

"At that point," Magu told me, "I knew I was onto something."

For three decades Magu, 64, has had fame, or at least notoriety, as a painter, sculptor and muralist.

In 1974, as a member of the art collective Los Four, Magu helped curate a groundbreaking exhibit of Chicano art at the staid L.A. County Museum of Art.

More recently, he designed the Hollywood and Vine subway station with car-themed art on its tiles.

Two of his pieces just left the L.A. County Fair, and more Magu is now at Pomona's dA Center for the Arts.

But let's back up. Why the nickname?

It came in adolescence when friends noticed him crowding close to art to get a closer squint, just like Mr. Magoo, the nearsighted cartoon character.

He didn't like the name but eventually embraced it. His live/work studio is even dubbed Magulandia. His kingdom includes two subjects: his grown son, Naiche, and a friend, Ricardo Silva, both fellow artists who room with him.

Crowded with art, furniture, an upright piano and even Magu's 1954 Chevy pickup, the ground-floor studio is a former machine shop with a rollup door.

(I suppose lugging the Chevy into an upstairs loft would have been impractical.)

Encouraged by a friend, Magu moved to the nascent Arts Colony in 1999 and instantly added cachet. His new address has practical benefits over L.A.

"People ask why I live in Pomona. I say: 'Parking,'" Magu joked.

Since 1994, the colony has succeeded in populating the near-empty blocks of downtown west of Garey Avenue, and even lured a Starbucks. Yet rising property values are putting the squeeze on artists.

Magu, who said he's never made much money, cut his 3,000-square-foot space in half to economize.

Although he complains a lot, Magu's work and themes are sunnier -- at least on the surface -- and in conversation he frequently pauses to smile and josh.

"I'm going to tell you my secrets," Magu said. "Humor. I think humor softens people's view of my culture."

Whimsy and Mexican folk art traditions cloak his ideas to make them more palatable, he said.

Because Chicanos, his preferred term, are torn between two cultures and are never entirely accepted by either, they make up a third, hybrid culture, he argues.

Thus, his art employs images Latinos in the Southwest grew up on: cartoons, TV icons, altars, exaggerated cars, garish colors, cactuses, burritos and tacos.

Visual puns abound. Verbal puns pepper his conversation.

"I use the car," Magu said, "as a cultural vehicle."

I trust he wasn't steering me wrong.

(David Allen, this newspaper's millstone, writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday.)

This week's restaurant: Good Time Cafe, 2923 Chino Ave., Suite H4, Chino Hills.

Attentive readers will remember the debate in this space about the lack of real Chinese food in the Inland Valley. Since then I've written about a find in Chino Hills, the Peking Deli. Well, here's a second Chino Hills Chinese place that's just as good.

Good Time Cafe occupies a wide, shallow storefront in the 99 Ranch Market center at Peyton Drive and Chino Avenue, just a bit south of Pomona. As the sign on the door promises, it serves Taiwanese-style cooking. The menu boasts 192 items, including an astonishing 47 appetizers. Granted, some of them are only for the hardy -- pig blood rice cake, anyone? -- but there's plenty for the rest of us, and dozens of soups, noodle and rice dishes, seafood and meat entrees, vegetarian items and a category called potage, a kind of porridge.

Oddly, unlike the rest of the menu, names of the menu's 22 beverages are untranslated from the Chinese. Better ask for help there.

I had Tainan's Peddler Noodle, dried rather than as soup. It had noodles, ground sausage and a tea-simmered hardboiled egg, a dish made in what I'm told is the style of street food in the Taiwanese city of Tainan. It was delicious and filling. This $4.95 entree came with a free pot of hot tea. Total outlay with tax and tip: $6. You can't beat that with a chopstick.

Service was friendly, the dining room was immaculate and a flat screen TV broadcast Chinese language news. To sum up, yes, I had a good time at the Good Time Cafe.

And I'm looking forward to my next meal here, even if it's unlikely to be No. 176, fried kidney with sesame oil.

Had lunch Thursday at the Corner Butcher Shop, at Fruit and Foothill in La Verne, a new, yet old-fashioned, butcher shop that also serves sandwiches. My pulled pork on a French roll, plus cole slaw and a Faygo soda ($8.40), were good stuff. (In-joke for Claremont Courier readers: Martin Lomeli wasn't eating there.)

From there, after a couple of errands, I dropped into 21 Choices Frozen Yogurt at Foothill and Mountain in Claremont. Only my second time in the place, but whenever I pass by, there's either a line out the door or people are walking toward it from the parking lot as if hypnotized. (The 21 Choices in the Village Expansion, which has been under construction for probably a year, albeit with little to show for it, now looks like it could actually open. Someday.)

I ordered one of the daily specials, vanilla bean ("98 percent fat free"), and had the counter girl add strawberries. She plopped out the yogurt onto a cutting board, added fresh strawberries and began chopping the whole thing up with a cleaver.

A customer watched all this, asking the counter girl what flavor of yogurt it was, saying it looked good and asking me if I'd had it before (no). The counter girl told her that chocolate with strawberries was very popular.

The customer then said to me excitedly, "You know what would be really good? Strawberries with marshmallow." I scrunched up my face, indicating that I disagreed violently, and also that in my opinion she may have lost her marbles, and paid my tab ($3.95).

On my way out, I heard the customer order vanilla bean yogurt.

And you thought "Hal Linker" was done. (Or not.) Here's the comment he left the other day in response to a comment by Bob House, who had inquired about the Sleepy Hollow neighborhood in what is now Chino Hills. Hal's comment was so long I saved it for its own post. Take it away, "Hal":

With regards to Sleepy Hollow and the La Vida Mineral Springs resort, all I can tell you is what I know from my limited personal experiences.

There was also a great tire swing near this area that hung over the creek which runs alongside Carbon Canyon Road. "The Swing" at The Purple Haze was a hangout for many people in the community.

The only unanswered question: What would Washington Irving have to say about Sleepy Hollow?

...as the English call vacation. After working Monday and Tuesday, I've got the rest of the week off. I managed to write columns ahead, as is my wont, so my absence won't be obvious. (I like being a columnist so much that if at all possible I try not to relinquish the newspaper space.)

I'm not going anywhere this time, just running errands and kicking back, but I had some use-them-or-lose-them days and also am in need of a break.

That said, I'll continue posting here. Because I won't be on the computer most of the day, as I am when I'm at the office, it will take longer for your comments to show up. As you probably know, all comments must be read and approved by me before they are posted; that's just the way the system works. But keep leaving 'em and a couple times a day I'll check the site.

And no, I didn't get up at 5:34 a.m. on a day off to post this! I'm writing these words late Tuesday.

What was the Green Mist? Sounds like a Stephen King novel or a John Carpenter movie, but the Green Mist was actually a Chino Hills phenomena.

Here's what the indefatigable "Hal Linker" has to say:

"In Chino there was also the legendary Green Mist. This was before Chino Hills was called Chino Hills and decades before incorporation. The Green Mist was located out on old Aerojet Road, a narrow winding two-lane affair. It was said that the headlights of the cars traveling on the old 71 Expressway created an effect of a Green Mist against the hills.

"As with all legends, there are variations to the story, some more spooky than others. Needless to say, it was an enticing way for guys to get girls to go to a remote location with them in pursuit of the mysteries of life. It wasn't coasting uphill, but it was usually edifying."

Anybody else want to weigh in?

If you want to celebrate April Fool's Day in style, you could eat at Fu Lin, the Chinese restaurant in Montclair.

That's one place I haven't tried, although it's on my list. Probably won't make there today, though, as a 10 a.m. appointment in Chino Hills means it's likely I'll wrap up by lunchtime. Lunchtime in Chino Hills is almost unheard-of for me so I'm prepared to make the most of it.

A few years ago I printed a photo of the Fu Lin sign with my column on April 1. If the place ever goes out of business, which would be too bad, it would at least lead to a good joke: no Fu Lin.