Is there a famous novel you're sheepish about not reading? I could list reams of them, but you'll find my choice as a comment at the end of Greg's blog post. It's a book in a series I almost, but not quite, finished 30 years ago. I keep meaning to read the whole series again from stem to stern, but a more sensible approach would be just to read the darn book. Maybe in 2009.
Feel free to comment here or on Greg's blog, or both places, on your own secret shame.
]]>Many are the times I've passed this Pepto-Bismol pink building with green awnings on Towne Avenue at Third Street and thought I should go in sometime. They seemed to sell food in addition to housemade tortillas, but would they have seating? Not knowing what to expect, I put it off.
With business in Pomona on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to try Nancy's for lunch while I was in the neighborhood.
Nancy's is three businesses in one. Their business card calls it Nancy's Tortilleria Carniceria and Deli. Besides the tortilla operation, Nancy's is a small market with a large meat section. Up front the deli sells takeout tacos, burritos, sopes and other items.
The white-jacketed counterman lifted lids off a series of metal containers to show off the various meats. They all looked good; I had planned to get carne asada but went with chicken instead.
I got a chicken burrito and a small horchata to drink ($6.23 total). There is no seating inside but two tables outside in the parking lot. Not the most pleasant seating on a blazingly hot day, but at least the building cast a shadow over them.
My lunch was very good, helped along by the very fresh and tasty tortilla. I'd go back, and if you don't mind takeout, I'd recommend Nancy's to you too. With that color scheme you won't have trouble finding it.
]]>The main blogger is my colleague Wendy Leung, with some kibitzing from colleague Canan Tasci, and there's some fun stuff there.
Even if you don't live or work in Rancho, I recommend the very funny posts Councilman on the Job Hunt Part 2, Children Say the Darndest Things, RC Day at the L.A. County Fair and Government Containment. You might also find the news about the Archibald Library remodeling and a possible Morton's Steakhouse of interest. (Those are two separate projects; Rancho isn't pioneering a library/steakhouse.)
]]>
For two neighboring businesses on Claremont's Indian Hill Boulevard, it's fire vs. water. If you stagger out of the first with a fire within, the second would seem well-equipped to douse it. Although you might not appreciate their angle of attack.
(Actually, A Fire Within is a pottery studio. Colonics is just what you think it is.)
The photo was taken by me but was suggested by Marshall Taylor, the mayor's husband. Um, did you want credit for that, Mr. Taylor?
]]>
"The statue is located in The Country Club Plaza, Kansas City's legendary shopping, dining and entertaining district," Shapton says.
I'd never heard of the place, but according to the Country Club Plaza's website, the plaza was built in 1922 as "America's first shopping center" and contains 14 blocks of shops, artworks and fountains. "Only Rome has more fountains than Kansas City," the website brags. Who knew?
As for the figure in question, "down the street in a quiet courtyard sits an original bronze of Pomona by Italian sculptor Donatello Gabrielli," the center's website continues.
According to the plaque at its base, "From his original model only two figures have ever been made -- this bronze casting and a marble carving that stands in the king's palace, Bangkok, Thailand."
Wow!
Anyone want to visit Thailand and send me a photo?
Shapton, by the way, sees a marble Goddess daily in her display case in the Library. That one is more modestly attired than the one in rollickin' Kansas City.
]]>Sorry this (ahem) innovation took so long but your blogger isn't the savviest at tech-oriented stuff. I procrastinated at trying to figure it out. It didn't help that I barely have time to write these furshlugginer posts anyway in between columns.
But a colleague has helped me out on the computer aspect of posting photos, and while I still can't do so on my own, I'm slowly absorbing the multiple steps required.
(Sizing photos to fit has been the big challenge, each requiring three or four attempts, the post going up in a dead period in an afternoon, coming down for resizing, going up, coming down, etc., until the photo looks right and the post can be safely scheduled to pop up automatically the next morning.)
Readers of my column -- and that's all of you, right? -- occasionally send me funny photos from around the community. The way my column is presently configured, i.e., vertically, it's virtually impossible for me to use photos in the paper anymore.
But what I've decided to do is post such photos on this blog from time to time, amidst the texty stuff you've come to expect. I've saved a few submissions from readers over previous months that may still be relevant. I'll take photos myself.
Look for the first submission Wednesday.
As we approach The David Allen Blog's first anniversary, who says this blog can't learn new tricks?
]]>Hearst Castle: an embarrassment of riches
Midway up the California coast, there's a celebrated dwelling, built on a hill by a famous eccentric, that today is a tourist draw and an official historic landmark.
Actually, there are two.
On vacation earlier this month, I took a quick gander at the exterior of this rambling eyesore -- which may have fallen down by the time you read this -- before heading a few miles north to Hearst Castle.
If you aren't familiar with Hearst Castle, it's a cozy little hilltop cottage with 115 rooms. Originally called "the ranch," the sprawling property has been renamed Hearst Castle for the man who financed it, William Randolph Castle.
Ha ha. I mean William Randolph Hearst, the obscenely rich newspaper publisher who was the model for Charles Foster Kane in "Citizen Kane." (Today Hearst would probably head Enron.)
Hearst bought 250,000 acres on the coast and, in 1919, teamed up with architect Julia Morgan to build a small home atop the hill where he could get away from it all and entertain Hollywood guests.
Based on the evidence, Hearst and Morgan's partnership went something like this:
Morgan: I thought this plateau with a 360-degree view of all you survey might be a nice spot for your little ranch.
Hearst: Sounds good to me.
Morgan: One more detail, Mr. Hearst.
Hearst: Yes?
Morgan: Would you like to super-size that?
Hearst (passionately): By God, I would!
Hearst had expected to finish in two years, but his enthusiasm, ambition and open checkbook kept the project going, and growing. By the time he died in 1951, his plan for a cottage had turned into a castle and three enormous guest homes, totaling 60,000 square feet -- and never completed.
His family, who must have been horrified at what Pop had wrought, essentially gave the property to the state parks department, which opened it for public ogling.
I'd been to Hearst Castle several years before but welcomed the chance for a return trip.
At the visitors center, I started in the theater, where a movie on an IMAX-sized screen told about Hearst and his IMAX-sized castle.
It's the inspirational story of a little boy who became a bigshot. Ending on an uplifting note, the narrator declares that Hearst had "the courage to follow his dreams." Yes, courage -- although access to a gazillion dollars may have played a part.
After the movie came the bus ride 5 miles up the hill to the estate. A docent led our group past the enormous outdoor pool, which is only slightly smaller than the Pacific Ocean, and by the Greek statuary crowding the garden.
From there, we stepped into the main house, Casa Grande, which is Spanish for "housekeeper's nightmare."
As I said, 115 rooms. Can you imagine cleaning 41 bathrooms? And, perhaps to prove he literally did have money to burn, Hearst's joint has 30 fireplaces.
The place is a marvel. There are ceilings whose beams came from dismantled cathedrals. Tapestries on the walls were woven for the French royal family. Chairs date to the Renaissance.
The decor is hard to categorize, but personally, I would call it American Gaudy. Hearst Castle is like Graceland, except Hearst's lavishly bad taste is classier than Elvis'.
But give him this: Hearst was a trailblazer in the field of disgusting opulence.
If it weren't for Hearst's inspiring example, would former Tyco CEO Dennis Kozlowski have ever thought to fork out $6,000 -- enough for a year's college tuition -- for a shower curtain? Would he have paid $15,000 for an umbrella stand, or $2,200 for a trash can?
So I'm of two minds about Hearst Castle. On the one hand, it's quite an achievement, and you can't help but wish you'd been invited there as a guest to luxuriate in the splendor.
On the other hand, you look at the extravagance and shake your head. Hearst Castle is ridiculous.
Up on his ridge, Hearst was just another nitwit.
(David Allen writes each Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday, when he shares his nitwitticisms.)
]]>Joanne's is in an A-frame building on Mountain near Fourth Street and was most recently Home Kitchen. Longtime residents will recall it as the Pie Place. *
I ate there months ago, without reviewing it, when it was still Home Kitchen, and on Friday thought I'd give it a try under the new name. The place seems virtually the same.
Inside it's a moderately-sized open room, somewhat updated from the classic coffee shop -- there are chairs at the counter, for instance, not swivel seats, and carpeting rather than tile -- and with a lot of pink, green and orange. Cheery and colorful. I didn't notice the fish tank until on my way out.
The prices seem reasonable to me. You can get a meatloaf dinner (the menu's come-on: "Mom's old recipe will find a new friend in you!") with vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy, garlic toast and soup or salad for a mere $6.99. The five "senior breakfast" specials ("value-priced for seniors 55 and up") are priced under $4.
If you want dinner, you'd better have it for lunch: Hours are 6 a.m. to 3 p.m., seven days.
I had a tuna melt ($5.99), with cole slaw rather than fries or fruit. Big and piled thick, on sourdough with cheddar, the sandwich was pretty good. The slaw, kind of tasteless. The server kept the ice tea coming. Overall, an unexciting but pleasant enough experience.
Disappointing, though, that the onetime Pie Place * is now pie-less. But if you need to indulge, there's a Baskin Robbins next door.
* By acclimation (see all the comments), this was actually an outpost of the House of Pies chain, not The Pie Place. Thanks for the correction.
]]>One question: Is the city's name pronounced Ven-tura or Ven-chura? More on that in a moment.
At a record shop, I finally broke down and bought a used copy of America's "Greatest Hits." It's a CD I've eyed warily for years, the '70s band being a guilty pleasure, one I was cautious of making official. Seeing the disc for $8, and thinking on my drive the day earlier about that ol' Ventura highway that was the subject of one of their songs, I chuckled and figured the time was right.
"Ventura Highway" came up just as I was entering the freeway to return home. The disc, by the way, was about what I'd expected: Neil Young Lite, plus the uncommonly (for them) exciting "Sister Golden Hair," plus (ugh) "Muskrat Love." But on balance I'm glad I have it.
Now, back to the pronunciation. I'd concluded some time ago the correct way was Ven-tura, but I'm not sure why. The name was never said by anyone during my stay and, having assumed the matter was settled, it didn't occur to me to ask around.
On my way out of town, though, I was shocked to discover that America, as official a band as the city has, pronounced the name Ven-chura.
Since my return, SoCal natives among my colleagues to whom I mentioned my destination have said the name both ways. I dunno. How do you say Ventura?
]]>The operation was supposedly at 2nd and Valley, which would be way out on the west edge of town. Under the "Fresh Orange Juice" sign, two waitresses pose, waving.
Marilyn adds: "Looks like a friendly little place, don't you think?"
]]>Fullmer Construction donated a building to Ontario for use in fire-training exercises. In response, at the meeting a Fuller rep was given a large, horizontal plaque with a gold-plated fire ax attached.
Photos were taken, handshakes were exchanged, Councilwoman Sheila Mautz hugged everyone and seats were resumed.
Then one worry was belatedly expressed.
Mayor Paul Leon said, "Councilman Bowman is concerned we just gave Fullmer the ax."
]]>
The sign originally stood at Foothill and White near the Mount Baldy Drive-In sign, which featured three images of a skier on the slopes; when the neon blinked, the skier appeared to be in motion.
The drive-in was in existence from about 1960 to 1984, when it was replaced by a Target store, according to Charles Phoenix's "Cruising the Pomona Valley" guidebook. The fair sign was there in approximately the same span and, after being taken down, was preserved in a Fairplex warehouse until its recent restoration.
"That was a little miracle they found it," Phoenix told me. He was pleased to know it was restored, and by the same company that made it originally, Pomona-based Williams Sign Co.
It looks pretty sharp, and I'm looking forward to driving past there at night to see the neon.
]]>Keep checking back here, though, because blog posts will continue appearing, as will a column in Wednesday's paper.
* Chino Hills and Ontario councils on Tuesday, Rancho Cucamonga council on Wednesday and Ontario-Montclair school board on Thursday. What was I thinking?
]]>Boston: Come for the history, stay for the accents
Trying to decide on a vacation spot? Consider Boston, the picturesque city from which yours truly just returned.
Hey, you could do a lot worse than Boston. But you might not do worse than I did, which was to arrive in Boston during a "nor'easter."
]]>Umbrellas were useless in that wind. Making matters worse, while packing I could only find one of my gloves.
Despite misgivings, I brought my lone glove and was glad I did, even though I looked like a Michael Jackson sympathizer. I used my gloved hand to hold my wet cap in place so it didn't rocket off my head.
Spring in Boston is usually much nicer, or so everyone claimed.
As a good-humored transit employee said: "This is great weather -- for March."
This was my first visit to Boston, and despite the weather, it was well worth it.
Just the accents alone are worth it.
"Bahstun" is where people "pahk" their "cah" -- but not in "Hahvahd Yahd" -- and eat "chowda." At least they have a sense of humor about it. Along Hanover Street there's a place named Connah Store, as in Corner Store. Very cute.
But accents aren't the only draw!
Boston is a beautiful city, full of old brick buildings and distinct neighborhoods, and easily traversed on foot or by subway.
As the cradle of the American Revolution, there are plenty of historic sites to see.
This is where the revolution was fomented, where musket fire first flew, where the breath of freedom first stirred, before the whole operation moved to Philadelphia, where the weather was better.
One stop was the Old State House, the 1713 building where the British government was seated. (True fact: Boston's "new" State House dates to 1795. This is one old city.) Protests there on March 5, 1770 sparked the Boston Massacre.
The revolutionaries were bold men, but as I learned, some were also a little nuts.
I'd never heard of James Otis Jr. (1725-1783), but after reading a display about him in the Old State House, he's my new favorite patriot.
Otis was out of politics when a blow to his head by a customs commissioner "unhinged his reason." This got him back into politics.
A delightful contemporary account quoted in the display tells us that during the Massacre, he "got into a mad Freak ... & broke a great many windows."
Otis retired from these statesman-like activities in 1776 and, truly going out with a bang, died seven years later when he was struck by a bolt of lightning.
Now that's a mad Freak!
Otis, the John Bolton of his day, isn't widely known, but lots of big (powdered) wigs lived and died in Boston. Famous insurgents -- excuse me, patriots -- buried there include Paul Revere, John Hancock and Samuel Adams Ale.
One must-see building is the Old North Church, of "one if by land, two if by sea" fame. This is where two lanterns were hung in the tower window on April 18, 1775 to signal Charlestown that British troops were coming by sea.
(I'm reminded of the war scene in "Duck Soup" in which three lanterns shine from a tower. Beleaguered commander Groucho Marx exclaims: "They're coming by land AND sea!")
Overall, Boston made for an excellent vacation destination, and I highly recommend it.
That said, it's great to be back home. In the sou'west.
(David Allen writes Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, unhinging your reason.)
]]>