Recently in Around L.A. Category

Philippe's, the L.A. French dip place, celebrates its 100th anniversary on Monday with dime sandwiches and nickel coffee, the original 1908 prices. It'll be a madhouse but, if you're at liberty that day, Metrolink or the Silver Streak bus will set you down a four-block walk from the restaurant...

Here's a great vicarious tour of downtown L.A. circa 1938 from Bo Caldwell's "The Distant Land of My Father" (p. 125), as the grandmother escorts the 7-year-old girl newly arrived from Shanghai around. This was all one paragraph but I've split it in half for easier reading:

"She took me to Olvera Street, the oldest street in the city, and we ate taquitos and held Mexican jumping beans in our palms. We shopped at Woolworth's and at the Broadway department store, where she bought me Bass Weejun loafers and Keds sneakers. We walked through Pershing Square and listened to soapbox preachers and browsed through the books at the Parasol Library. We bought strawberries and watermelon and just-baked peach pie at Grand Central Market, then rode Angels Flight, a small funicular railway that went up and down Bunker Hill.

"We went to Germain's Nursery on Hill Street and bought packets of California poppy seeds that Gran said we would plant in the back corner of her yard. We stopped at Van de Kamp's Holland Dutch Bakers and bought Dutch Girl cookies and coconut macaroons and Saratoga potato chips that tumbled out of a metal chute as they were cooked. We ate lunch at Clifton's Cafeteria, or went to Philippe's for French dips and lemonade, where I drew patterns in the sawdust on the floor with the toe of my shoe."

Nice to see that about half the stuff she name-drops is still around -- of the 11 places, five still exist, and that will be six when Angels Flight is back in service. I have no idea what the Parasol Library was, btw.

If you haven't checked this blog for a few days, or are a first-timer, scroll down this page to the post from last week titled "Clifton's Cafeteria," which you may also find of interest.

Everyone in Claremont is supposed to be reading "Distant Land." Are you?

Had a day off on Monday and went to Long Beach for lunch with my pal Steve Harvey of "Only in L.A." fame (subject of a future column) via Metrolink and the Blue Line, the only way to travel. After lunch we paid our respects at Acres of Books, the used bookstore that's closing, probably in mid-October (and subject of another future column). Discounts are now up to 30 percent but most of the best books have already walked out the doors.

On the train I read more of "The Distant Land of My Father," the novel everyone in Claremont is supposed to be reading, although I have yet to hear anyone around town mention it. (This book, you won't be surprised to hear, will also be the subject of a future column. No shortage of column topics here.)

Anyway. On the way back, I got off at the Seventh Street Metro station in downtown L.A., walked four blocks or so east to Broadway and took a little break at Clifton's Brookdale Cafeteria.

Many of you will know Clifton's. It's the old-school eatery there since the 1930s and still chugging along; even though all its other outposts have closed, they've hunkered down here. Inside it's the same forest-like scene you remember or have read about, complete with a waterfall and redwood trees. If you've never been, you owe it to yourself to visit at least once in your life.

I've been there maybe a half-dozen times over the years, but I had my first actual meal there a couple of months ago when I was downtown for a Last Remaining Seats screening at the Orpheum, and truth be told, the food is only so-so. The setting more than makes up for any shortfall in the taste department, though. Plus they have all the comfort food items you could ask for, even Jell-O with fruit inside.

Usually I go in the middle of the afternoon and just get a cold drink and a slice of pie or maybe a fruit salad, something to relax with, and that's what I did Monday: a slice of cheesecake with chocolate, a bowl of orange slices and a lemon Ole. It all hit the spot, as did the kitsch. When you're in a restaurant with its very own waterfall, it's hard not to leave happy.

The past few years, the Hollywood Forever Cemetery on Santa Monica Boulevard (at Gower) has been hosting, of all things, film screenings.

You pay $10 and schlep to a grassy, graveless lawn, set up a picnic blanket or beach chair and watch a movie screened against the wall of a giant mausoleum.

Revival house? More like revival crypt. Friends of mine have gone off-and-on since Cinespia's start. It always seemed a little creepy to me -- not scary but bad taste and disrespectful. But the cemetery could use the money, apparently, and what the heck. Revival houses are few and far between these days.

So when a couple of friends invited me last Saturday, I went along. The movie was Orson Welles' amazing "Touch of Evil" and, you know, the whole thing was kinda fun.

Cinespia has a website if you'd like to know more. Upcoming movies: "Sixteen Candles" (tonight), "Phantasm," (Sunday), "Badlands" and "Rear Window" (next weekend).

As promised in today's column, here's a link to Big Orange Landmarks, a blog with multiple views of L.A.'s Fine Arts Building.

Take a look -- it's a heckuva building.

Last Sunday I ventured to Glendale to Brand Bookshop, one of my favorite used bookstores, for its 30 percent off sale. (Which continues through June 1.) The new Grove-like outdoor mall, Americana at Brand, turns out to be just three blocks south on Brand.

Thus, I left my car in the parking garage and hoofed it down to Americana to check it out.

My initial impression was positive, although I didn't spend much time there. The $400 million Americana seems to be modeled on early 20th century downtowns. At least one streetcorner has an antique-like clock jutting from the building, as if it were the town bank. A residential tower maybe nine stories high has a glass elevator fronting the central plaza; gears and a counterweight on the elevator exterior rise and fall with the cars. Again, it's a visual reminder of long-past times.

Plenty of families were enjoying the plaza's lawn and massive pool-like fountain as a rock band played.

I noticed a kiosk selling pizza by the slice and a small round building modeled on a '50s diner, both of which bear culinary investigation. A Good Humor ice cream wagon was parked, apparently permanently, and employees sold treats from its freezer compartment.

Like the Grove, there's not a lot of shops that appeal to me, but there is, like the Grove, a three-story Barnes and Noble.

The buildings are several stories taller than at the Grove but Americana does repeat some elements, including the trolley (although I never saw it, just the tracks). The movie theater has more screens than the Grove -- 18 vs. 14 -- but lacks the limited-release arty movies the Grove usually includes. Glendale must be considered the boonies.

I'll go back sometime...while visiting the Alex Theater or downtown's two used bookstores (the other one is Bookfellows). To me, downtown is the real reason to visit Glendale. Americana just adds another element of interest.

A week ago I made a long-delayed visit to L.A.'s Skirball Center to see its exhibit "Bob Dylan's American Journey 1956-1966."

I'm a Dylan fan of almost 30 years standing but it took a while for my interest in seeing the show to overcome my inertia. Viewing a cache of memorabilia didn't strike me as a must-see as far as deepening my appreciation of Dylan's music, and as it turned out, I'm not sure the visit did help all that much.

And yet for me the visit was diverting enough to have been worth the trip and the $10.

One of the first things you see is a wall of 45s featuring 100 versions from all over the world of "Blowin' in the Wind." Among the grab-bag of performers: Trini Lopez, Spike Jones, Marlene Dietrich, Les 3 Menestrels, Odetta, the Harmonicats, Sven-Ingvars, Vince Guaraldi, Stevie Wonder, Gun Sjoberg and Srecko Zubak. Some of them sound like characters in one of Dylan's more surreal songs. Odetta's version, by the way, is the more grammatically precise "Blowing in the Wind."

Inside the exhibit are typed and handwritten lyrics to classic Dylan songs, concert tickets, handbills, photos, video clips, correspondence and recordings of songs by Dylan and by folk and blues artists who inspired him. It made for an enjoyable hour.

Some of the material wasn't new to me and yet it was neat to see the actual object. I'm thinking here of the famous Robert Shelton review that led to Dylan's recording contract. This version is the original, clipped from the New York Times. I've seen young Robert Zimmerman's 1959 Hibbing High yearbook photo in many books, but here was the actual yearbook. I knew his stated ambition was "to join Little Richard," but did you know his club affiliations were "Latin Club 2, Social Studies Club 4"?

We also see his inscription in a female classmate's yearbook that includes the charming comment: "You have the most beautifullest hair in school, too." There's also a 1964-ish letter to Joan Baez's mother written by Dylan openly pretending to be Joan, talking about how in love they were and how wonderful he was.

Silly, inessential stuff, but kind of fun.

I overheard a tour guide say that Echo Helstrom, Dylan's first girlfriend, phoned and was given a private tour of the exhibit. There were plenty of regular folks there when I visited, from all ages. Including polite but bored children enduring their parents' mini-lectures on the 1960s civil rights movement.

One of the coolest objects was Bruce Langhorne's tambourine, the one that inspired "Mr. Tambourine Man," in a glass case. I recall reading where Dylan described the tambourine as being as large as a wagon wheel. Well, it's not that big, but it's probably 15 inches across.

If you're curious about Dylan, whether you're a neophyte or a hardcore fan, I'd say the exhibit is worth a visit.

The exhibit, which opened in February, continues through June 8. Many of the neatest lectures, films and other ancillary events are past, but there are more. On Sunday, Ann Powers, the L.A. Times pop music critic, will lead a tour at 2:30. Wish I'd waited a week to go. And the rare documentary "Eat the Document" will screen May 29 at 8 p.m.

If you're not curious about Dylan, thanks for reading this far.

Last Monday, as mentioned previously, I went to Studio City to see Jon Provost give a book talk. That event was at 7 p.m. This rare outing to the Valley provided an opportunity for a meal in a strange locale.

Thus I had dinner at Art's Deli, a highly regarded delicatessen on Ventura Boulevard a bit west of Laurel Canyon Drive. It was my first time, but the place comes recommended by Jonathan Gold, who seems to like everything on the menu.

"Every Sandwich is a Work of Art" is the punning motto at Art's, which had its 60th anniversary a couple of years back. I picked a booth by the window and settled back with the menu. They have all the Jewish specialties and some regular diner food.

I went for the corned beef, a half-sandwich ($10.50) size, with cole slaw. (Full size is $13.50; in retrospect, I should've ordered that and taken the other half home.) The sandwich was piled high, the corned beef thinly sliced and warm, lean and with a little fat for flavor. It was terrific. The slaw was good too.

That dispensed with, I had a warmed apple strudel for dessert ($5.95, and worth it).

One piece of sage advice from the menu: "Anything that is hot can be made cold." I liked this phrase enough to write it down. Among other everyday uses, it accurately describes the philosophy of temperature control in the Daily Bulletin newsroom.

Had dinner last Sunday night in Santa Monica at Border Grill, a fine-dining Mexican restaurant on Fourth Street, a block over from the Promenade. The restaurant is owned by the duo who call themselves the Too Hot Tamales, Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger, who have cookbooks, cooking shows and such.

I bring this up because Feniger (ta-da!) attended Pitzer College in Claremont. Yes, there are local angles everywhere, even in Santa Monica.

Nearby are a West Elm Furniture and a Le Pain Quotidien, but (ahem) you can find those in Rancho Cucamonga and Claremont, so why bother? Border Grill, though, was unique and well worth the money.

The meal capped an evening that began with "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," one of the best movies I've seen in 2007. If it makes its way to Claremont's Laemmle, consider going.

Well, this blog is apparently accepting comments again, not that anyone left any, so let's go (at least in prose) to Langer's Deli in L.A.

I'd heard for years that Langer's has the best pastrami outside of New York, and possibly even inside of New York, and yet Langer's, even after 60 years at Seventh and Alvarado, across from MacArthur Park, still remains largely unknown compared to Canter's, Pink's, the Original Pantry, Philippe's and other L.A. institutions.

On Saturday I took the plunge, riding Metrolink with a friend to Union Station and the Red Line subway to MacArthur Park; Langer's is a half-block away, a Jewish restaurant in the heart of a Latino neighborhood.

It's old but clean, smaller than Canter's but with a similar stopped-time feeling. I got the No. 44, a hot pastrami with sauerkraut, Russian dressing, and something called nippy cheese, on rye. The pastrami is hand-sliced and thicker than any I've had; reputedly it's steamed for three hours, which makes it so tender it can't be machine-sliced to the usual thinness. The bread is crunchy on the outside and soft inside. I agree with everyone; it's a heckuva pastrami sandwich.

My friend got the No. 1, which comes cold and with cole slaw instead of sauerkraut, and it was no worse, and likely even tastier, than my sandwich.

The neighborhood is said to be much improved over a few years ago, although there are still guys on the sidewalk ready to make you a fake ID. The park and its lake are lovely, even if I can't think of the park without thinking of that awful song about the cake left out in the rain. What about pastrami left out in the rain? Now that would be something to cry about.

With Monday morning off before that evening's Pomona council meeting, I took Metrolink into downtown L.A. to see "Julius Shulman's Los Angeles," an exhibit of Shulman's architectural photos at the Central Library, on view through Jan. 20.

Shulman, who was born in 1910 and is still at it, has watched L.A. longer than about anybody. One of the first photos in the show was shot in 1933 and is described as a view of City Hall "from the Union Station construction site."

There are photos of the Bradbury Building interior, the last two Victorians on Bunker Hill in the '60s, Century City, Wilshire Boulevard, Case Study House No. 22, dingbat apartments, bungalow courts and the Watts Towers. Especially illuminating were a couple of photos that showed how Shulman manipulated the surroundings to show off his subjects in a flattering light.

Let's just say the Case Study House -- the famous image is of two sophisticated women in white seen through a floor-to-ceiling window as the city's lights twinkle below them, one of L.A.'s most iconic photos -- wasn't quite as magical before Shulman got to work.

A couple of local connections figure in for you architecture buffs. Several photos show buildings by Welton Becket, who designed the Pomona Civic Center, and another shows a Wilshire department store by Stiles O. Clement, who's responsible for Pomona's old Sears store.

The exhibit is in the Library's Getty Gallery. Afterward you can marvel anew at the wraparound mural in the adjacent Lowdrick M. Cook Rotunda, and maybe even look at some books. Oh, and the admission price is right: free.

(Incidentally, the title of today's entry is a play on a Ben Katchor book. Extra credit if you look it up.)

Call me a crabby misanthrope if you must, but although I like street life, I hate street fairs, and seeing Claremont's streets overrun on Village Venture gives me the heebie-jeebies. I don't want a handcarved wooden duck, I don't want kountry klutter signs, I don't want pottery or informational brochures or beaded jewelry.

So as usual I high-tailed it out of town. I went to Glendale's lovely Alex Theater to see, of all things, "Creature From the Black Lagoon," in 3-D.

Everyone upon entry was handed paper glasses, with a blue lens for your left eye and a red lens for your right. Wearing these with actual glasses proved tricky but not impossible, and the 3-D effects were, well, effective: fish swimming right at us, harpoons headed our way, clawed man-fish hands groping off the screen and toward our faces. The whole thing was a hoot.

Unanswered question: Why do monsters always want our women? Frankenstein, Werewolf, King Kong, the Creature, they always find human women fascinating. Hey, me too, but aren't there werewomen, queen kongs and creaturettes for them to kidnap? Sheesh.

Anyway, it was the kind of afternoon I like, and if you went to Village Venture, hope you enjoyed it!!

I trekked to L.A. Sunday to see "Blade Runner: The Final Cut" on its final weekend at its only location, the new Landmark theater at the Westside Pavilion. Great movie, obviously, except that even though I'm a fan who's seen its various iterations probably four previous times, I really couldn't tell you what was different about this version. Always good to see it on the big screen, though.

A few tidbits about life in "Blade Runner's" Los Angeles, 2019, that were noteworthy here in 2007:

1) It rains all the time; this is meant as oppressive, but compared to the past couple of bone-dry years, it was kind of pleasant;

2) Harrison Ford's character twice is seen reading actual newspapers, meaning yours truly may (whew!) be employed for a while yet;

3) Judging by the neon billboards, the defunct Pan Am company will be revived; and

4) The current downtown L.A. condo boom will be shortlived. J.F. Sebastian lives alone in the decrepit Bradbury Apartments and says to Pris: "No housing shortage here. Plenty of room for everybody."

After the movie, I walked a block for lunch at the Apple Pan, the burger stand celebrating its 60th anniversary. Hadn't been there in a few years, but of course it's exactly the same, with the same guy behind the U-shaped counter hustling to serve everybody. The service is dryly efficient and hilariously blunt. Ordering takes no more than 5 seconds.

Counterman: "Yes?"
Me: "Steakburger."
Counterman: "Cheese?"
Me: "Yes."
Counterman: "Fries?"
Me: "Yes."
Counterman: "Coke?"
Me: "Yes."
Counterman: "Anything else?"
Me: "No."

Was my lunch good? Oh yes.