In my first full-on items column in six weeks (!), I round up news about the Ontario/Chaffey Show Band, an Upland cop with an ironic name, the Ball family and Quakes stadium, atop eight cultural notes (one about my next author talk). All that is in Wednesday’s column.
In downtown Chino, walking from El Pueblo to Aguiar Square, I noticed this WCTU fountain for the first time. It’s at Sixth and D streets, southeast corner. According to the plaque, it’s a replica of a 1908 fountain erected by the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, an organization of anti-alcohol crusaders that built fountains so that men could get a drink of water without entering a saloon.
Now get a load of this, as it’s a rare thing to read an official plaque and laugh out loud: “Records show that not long after the dedication, a runaway ‘horseless’ buggy plowed into the fountain and destroyed it.”
Click on the photo below for a larger view of the plaque, although the lettering is such that it’s tough to read at any size.
This replica was dedicated in October 2010 for Chino’s centennial, recognizing “an important issue that led to Chino’s incorporation.”
The fountain isn’t meant to be operational, but as you can see, a working water fountain is next to it. I got a refreshing drink of water and thought about Chino.
An email query arrived from Carolyn Inhoffer Montes, who asks:
I hope you can help answer a question for me. My dad, a Marine, was chatting with a fellow Marine, who asked him if he knew about the ‘Anchor Lounge’ in Rancho Cucamonga, owned by a Navy guy (thus the name) that was ‘in the middle of a vineyard. My dad and I are assuming it was a ‘seedy’ place…
Nonetheless, he keeps asking if I have learned where it was located. I’ve googled to see if anything would pop up, but nothing does. I saw your blog and thought you might be able to help me, given your historic knowledge of Rancho.
Any thoughts? Or insight?
I’ve never heard of this, but that doesn’t mean much. Have you any of you?
Update: via the Alta Cucawanda Friends Facebook page, Chris H. Boesen says the Anchor Lounge was on Foothill Boulevard, just west of Hermosa Avenue, on the north side, in what is now a patio furniture store. “I know it was there in the mid-’70s. Don’t remember when it closed,” Boesen writes. “It was a dive bar for sure.” And Jane Vath O’Connell says: “I remember it as a place called Capt. Shinks!”
In Sunday’s column, I wrap up my series about my trip to Germany by writing about Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse-Five” and my visit to the Dresden slaughterhouse where he was held as a POW.
Above, Donilo Hommel, center, shows us the renovated slaughterhouse at left where Vonnegut appears to have been held, across from the power building at right; below, I stand outside the entrance to Schlachthof 5/Slaughterhouse Five, marked by a sign put up by fans.
I take a ride, two in fact, on the newly restored Angels Flight railway in downtown L.A. Of all the weird luck, the next day it closed again due to a faulty part. I’ve been on it on at least a half-dozen occasions over the years, in between closures, some of which have lasted years. It’s nice to have it back.
I write about it in Friday’s column. Have you ever been on it?
Beola’s Southern Cuisine, 1845 E. Holt Blvd. (at Vineyard), Ontario; open weekdays, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.; Saturdays, 9 a.m. to 10 p.m.; and Sundays, 9 a.m. to 9 p.m.
In mid-2016 Beola’s took over this modern but somewhat obscure space near a Starbucks and previously occupied by Italian and Indian restaurants, if memory serves. The restaurant is said to have a connection to Maple House, which is a few miles west and focuses on chicken and waffles, but this one has a broader menu.
I’d been meaning to try out Beola’s for a while, but, well, you know how it goes. A friend and I were looking for a lunch spot and Beola’s came to my mind. The interior was pleasant in a kind of business-lunch way and has a bar.
We were seated and examined the menu, the same at lunch as at dinner. Entrees range from $10 to $25 and were a mix: a sandwich, fried seafood, gumbo and oxtails, plus $5 sides like greens, yams. At $19 to $24, the gumbo was a little more than we wanted to pay. So he got the shrimp and grits ($14) and I had smothered chicken over rice ($12).
Our socks weren’t knocked off, but the food was fine. From my standpoint, there was something slightly disappointing about the experience. I like Maple House and felt like Beola’s was a half-step below due to the pricing and the scattered menu choices, I think.
The service was friendly, as you would expect of a Southern-style restaurant, even though the server was working alone and juggling a few tables. Unusually, a point of sale device was brought to our table to ring up the bill and show us the change we would be owed.
For Wednesday’s column, I write a little about the customs but mostly about the food and beverages from Germany and from my overnight jaunt to the Czech Republic. Above, three types of sausages, with sauerkraut and potatoes, in Dresden; below, a knuckle, sauerkraut and bread dumplings, also in Dresden; at bottom, the staff at a Prague shop prepare trdelniks.
Top Hat Liquor, a long-lived Pomona shop with a jaunty roofline and cosmopolitan name, got a new paint job in April, as seen in the photo above.
To explain in brief why this is news, I had taken a photo of the business last October when passing by (on my way to follow candidate Tim Sandoval as he canvassed a neighborhood — I wonder what ever happened to him?), then forgot about it until finding the photo in July and turning it into a quick tribute post on this blog. That’s the photo below.
People got worked up on Facebook over the peeling paint, vowing to organize a clean-up and painting day after a plan to contact the owner. Well-intentioned, but it went about as far as most such online efforts, which are easier to type than to carry out.
But then City Hall contacted me with the photo above. “You’ve given readers the ‘before’ photo. Here’s the ‘after’ photo,” writes Mark Lazzaretto, development services director.
The code compliance team noticed the condition of the business in early April and by the 18th, the trim had been repainted and some of the banners and signs had been taken down for a cleaner appearance, he told me.
That’s good news, as well as being a lesson for me about taking care when presenting photos a few months after the fact. Even situations that have not changed in years sometimes change when you least expect it.
A tip of the top hat to City Hall. The next round is on us.
Books acquired: “Slaughterhouse-Five,” Kurt Vonnegut
Books read: “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay,” Michael Chabon; “Rock ‘n’ Roll Billboards of the Sunset Strip,” Robert Landau; “Slaughterhouse-Five,” Kurt Vonnegut
I used August and an overseas trip to finally tackle “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay,” which I’ve owned since 2001 but which, at 639 pages, I was too intimidated by to start. The vacation didn’t really provide more reading time than usual, since I was also absorbed in reading pages from my guidebook, but it was good to finally be reading it: It won a Pulitzer and is about the early days of comic books, which are one of my hobbies.
Two young Jewish cousins create an escape artist character, making millions for their publisher and thousands for themselves, a common occurrence back then. Escape becomes a metaphor in the book; the artist’s family is still in Prague on the eve of World War II and he tries to liberate them, much as he himself escaped. Having scenes set in Prague, a city I was to visit, was an unexpected bonus. I liked the novel and found myself absorbed — even if it was a bit long.
Incidentally, I bought my copy at the San Diego Comic Con in 2001, when Chabon was the guest of honor. I wasn’t planning to buy the hardcover, but one morning I was browsing the near-empty Comic Relief vendor space when I realized owner Rory Root was speaking to fellow Berkeleyite Chabon. A big stack of “K&C” was between us. I got Root’s attention and said impishly, “If I buy the book, will Mr. Chabon sign it?” Root looked at Chabon and he smiled and said sure. He complimented the graphic novel I had in my hands, Raymond Briggs’ “Ethel and Ernest,” saying his wife had liked it. He said this was his first comic convention and he was enjoying it.
Later he would give a well-attended talk while wearing a T-shirt with the logo Miskatonic University, a sly nod to H.P. Lovecraft, which I somehow knew even though I hadn’t read any Lovecraft yet, having apparently absorbed just enough of the mythology through Marvel comics or other sources. My friends and probably hundreds more formed an enormous line to meet him and get his signature. Me, I’d gotten mine before his hand got tired.
I felt too much pressure to keep this copy in nice shape, even if it was the 8th or 9th printing. Eventually I bought a beat-up paperback, possibly at Berkeley’s Shakespeare and Co., but even that sat on my shelf a few years. It did help to have a copy that could be toted around Europe with impunity. I suppose now I can sell it, while keeping the signed version.
It took me just over three weeks to read it, and it might have been the only book I read all month. It was, actually. But I finished Robert Landau’s book, which had been on my nightstand, Sept. 1, and Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Sept. 3, just in time for this Reading Log.
Taken when he was living in the neighborhood, Landau’s documentary photos of rock promotional billboards from about 1968-1982 now seem charming and magical. It’s an ode to a bygone era of ego stroking, big hair, heavy sounds, important (or “important”) albums, hand-painted billboards, Tower Records, rock DJs and a very local approach to marketing. I bought it last month from the author himself.
Absurdist and heartbreaking, the writing and structure of “Slaughterhouse-Five” appear so casual that they’re always on the verge of collapsing, but never do, and that’s part of the book’s brilliance. Still, 106 uses of “So it goes” seems a bit much. I bought this at Berlin’s Dussmann store a few days after a Vonnegut tour of Dresden, the setting of much of the novel, and hope to write a column about it shortly.
How was your August, readers? Any amazing adventures, or were you cavalier?
Next month: my annual Jack Smith book, probably, and more.
Thanks to a reader, I learned that Jerry Lewis filmed scenes for one of his films in Ontario. That item is followed by a recap of comments on my Facebook page about where and how people learned of Elvis’ death, and a nugget about the heat, all in Sunday’s column. Happy Labor Day weekend!