Beret-tip to Militant Angeleno for this one: Broguiere's is planning to reopen this Friday.
Well...we shall see what happens, but at least the dairy's retro fiberglass cow isn't going anywhere (for now).
(And no, I still have not received a reply to my request for an interview. While I would love to interview one of the last surviving links to old French Los Angeles, whether they talk to me or not is their choice.)
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Friday, August 2, 2019
How Bernard Street Got Its Name
About 170 years ago, a young French Swiss man set sail for California by way of Cape Horn - an extremely long journey - hoping to strike it rich in the gold fields of Northern California.
Most prospectors did not, in fact, strike it rich, and headed back home or turned to other work. French and French-speaking prospectors often headed south to find work on ranchos, and at least some of them wound up in Los Angeles.
Jean Bernard was one of them, and he found other ways to make his fortune.
If you've seen La La Land, you might recall a scene with Mia calling Sebastian on her cell phone while she walks down the street. A Chinese-themed motel is in the background. That scene was shot on Bernard Street - named for Jean Bernard. Why? Simple - Bernard held a grant deed in what is now Chinatown, and his brickyard was located where the motel stands today.
Jean Bernard married Susana Machado - great-granddaughter of one of the city's original pobladores. Soon after the wedding, he bought a vineyard on Alameda Street enclosed by a high brick wall (Harris Newmark compared it to a European chateau).
Believe it or not, the California Wine Growers' Association wasn't formed until 1875 - over forty years after Jean-Louis Vignes established California's first commercial vineyard. Jean Bernard was one of the Association's founding directors.
Jean owned several buildings at First and Main, and converted four of them into a business block in 1883 (he also had a building on San Fernando Street and an orchard). He also owned the site of the Natick House (a two-story Italianate commercial building at the corner of Main and First; sadly it was torn down long ago).
In 1887, the Ballona Wharf Company - builders and operators of docks and wharves - incorporated in Los Angeles. Jean Bernard was on the board of directors (ironically, he had foreclosed on the South Santa Monica Wharf and Shipping Company in 1882 when the company couldn't pay its debts). He was also on the board of directors of the California Bank.
Bernard passed away in 1889. Harris Newmark described him as "a clever linguist and a man of attractive personality".
In 1902, Susana Machado Bernard hired John Parkinson - the same architect who had remodeled the Natick House and later designed Los Angeles City Hall - to build a Gothic Revival mansion for her large family. Perhaps not coincidentally, the house combines French architectural styling with Spanish stucco and terra cotta roof tiles. Susana passed away just a few years later in 1907, but the house remained in the Bernard family until 1962.
The house, still standing at 845 Lake Street in MacArthur Park, is a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument and on the National Register of Historic Places. It is particularly noteworthy because Parkinson did not normally design residential buildings. Currently, it serves as an emergency and long-term shelter for homeless youth (some of them immigrants and refugees). There have, unfortunately, been allegations of abuse and mismanagement. The Bernards - parents of 11 children - would, I'm sure, be horrified at the things said to take place under Susana's elegant terra cotta roof.
Most prospectors did not, in fact, strike it rich, and headed back home or turned to other work. French and French-speaking prospectors often headed south to find work on ranchos, and at least some of them wound up in Los Angeles.
Jean Bernard was one of them, and he found other ways to make his fortune.
If you've seen La La Land, you might recall a scene with Mia calling Sebastian on her cell phone while she walks down the street. A Chinese-themed motel is in the background. That scene was shot on Bernard Street - named for Jean Bernard. Why? Simple - Bernard held a grant deed in what is now Chinatown, and his brickyard was located where the motel stands today.
Jean Bernard married Susana Machado - great-granddaughter of one of the city's original pobladores. Soon after the wedding, he bought a vineyard on Alameda Street enclosed by a high brick wall (Harris Newmark compared it to a European chateau).
Believe it or not, the California Wine Growers' Association wasn't formed until 1875 - over forty years after Jean-Louis Vignes established California's first commercial vineyard. Jean Bernard was one of the Association's founding directors.
Jean owned several buildings at First and Main, and converted four of them into a business block in 1883 (he also had a building on San Fernando Street and an orchard). He also owned the site of the Natick House (a two-story Italianate commercial building at the corner of Main and First; sadly it was torn down long ago).
In 1887, the Ballona Wharf Company - builders and operators of docks and wharves - incorporated in Los Angeles. Jean Bernard was on the board of directors (ironically, he had foreclosed on the South Santa Monica Wharf and Shipping Company in 1882 when the company couldn't pay its debts). He was also on the board of directors of the California Bank.
Bernard passed away in 1889. Harris Newmark described him as "a clever linguist and a man of attractive personality".
In 1902, Susana Machado Bernard hired John Parkinson - the same architect who had remodeled the Natick House and later designed Los Angeles City Hall - to build a Gothic Revival mansion for her large family. Perhaps not coincidentally, the house combines French architectural styling with Spanish stucco and terra cotta roof tiles. Susana passed away just a few years later in 1907, but the house remained in the Bernard family until 1962.
The house, still standing at 845 Lake Street in MacArthur Park, is a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument and on the National Register of Historic Places. It is particularly noteworthy because Parkinson did not normally design residential buildings. Currently, it serves as an emergency and long-term shelter for homeless youth (some of them immigrants and refugees). There have, unfortunately, been allegations of abuse and mismanagement. The Bernards - parents of 11 children - would, I'm sure, be horrified at the things said to take place under Susana's elegant terra cotta roof.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
The Last One Standing Falls
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| Broguiere's Dairy milk bottle |
Founded by a French immigrant in 1920, Broguiere's lasted 99 years. They survived changes that pushed dairy cows out of Los Angeles County and into the boondocks, they survived a proposed freeway underpass that would have wiped out the building...but they didn't quite make it to 100. (I sent them a letter requesting an interview two months ago. I never did receive a response. If I ever do, I'll happily - enthusiastically, even - publish their story. I started this blog to get our stories out there, for better or for worse.)
I don't even consume dairy products (and haven't for 16+ years...pass the cashew brie) and I know it's the death rattle of an era.
Every year, my people fade a little further into obscurity.
But I can't let that happen.
If you don't know me in real life, know this: I don't give up.
I can't.
I won't.
Someone has to tell our stories (correctly).
And since no one cares more than I do, that person is me.
If anyone at Broguiere's happens to read this: please shoot me an email (losfrangeles at gmail dot com). I want your side of the story. I promise I will give you a fair shake. I want the honest truth, and so do my readers.
Saturday, July 6, 2019
Money, Madness, and Attempted Murder
One hundred years ago today, Griffith Jenkins Griffith died.
Every Angeleno knows Griffith J. Griffith donated Griffith Park to the city of Los Angeles. In that story, Griffith gets to be the hero.
In the story of one of the most prominent French families in Los Angeles, however, Griffith will never be anything but a villain who got a slap on the wrist.
Born February 29, 1864 to industrious French immigrants who had become land barons*, Mary Agnes Christina "Tina" Mesmer spoke four languages, was a talented musician...and owned more than one million dollars' worth of Los Angeles real estate in her own name by the time she was 22.
In 2019 dollars, that's $25 million, but without an exhaustive inventory of the properties she owned, I can't say its true value in 2019 terms. Given the high demand for Los Angeles real estate, it would probably be worth much more than $25 million today. In any case, Tina was an extremely wealthy young woman.
And she caught the eye of Griffith J. Griffith.
Born penniless in Wales, Griffith was nouveau riche to the hilt. He wore a frock coat and carried a cane - in still-the-Wild-West Los Angeles. He affected the title of "Colonel", despite not having served in the military at all. His idea of doing someone a favor was allowing them to be seen in public with him. One acquaintance dubbed him a "midget egomaniac"; another called him "a roly-poly pompous little fellow" and compared his walk to that of a strutting turkey.
God only knows how this obnoxious character managed to win the hand of pretty, well-bred Tina Mesmer.
In a letter to Tina dated January 8, 1887 - less than three weeks before their wedding - Griffith sought to break their engagement. He accused her of having misrepresented her wealth (...so a 22-year-old with a million dollars wasn't rich enough?) and of being a pawn in her father's hands.
Despite this giant red flag, the wedding did take place January 27, 1887.
At the time, it was a common practice for brides of means to deed their property and fortunes to their husbands when they got married. It was a dowry in all but name. And Tina Mesmer, not realizing what would happen to her, deeded her vast fortune to her new husband.
Big mistake.
Griffith was a devout Protestant. Tina was just as devoutly Catholic as the rest of the Mesmer clan (her father and brother were instrumental in finishing construction on St. Vibiana Cathedral). Instead of a church wedding, they had a small ceremony at the Mesmer family home. Griffith would later start religious arguments with Tina. But wait - it gets worse.
So. Much. Worse.
Just four months after marrying Tina, Griffith filed for partial distribution of André Briswalter's estate. Briswalter, a wealthy landowner himself, had been a friend of Tina's father Louis Mesmer and had left her some property on San Pedro Street. Griffith claimed that Tina had assigned her claim on the property to her father, and that Griffith had then bought the claim from Mesmer. Briswalter's large estate was in dispute due to an alleged illegitimate son, and the parties involved (including the Mesmers) had agreed to probate.
Probate was time-consuming, even in the 1880s. But Griffith didn't want to wait. Hmmm.
In December of 1896, Griffith J. Griffith announced he was donating 3,015 acres of Rancho Los Feliz for use as a public park. He stated "I consider it my obligation to make Los Angeles a happier, cleaner, and finer city. I wish to pay my debt of duty in this way to the community in which I have prospered."
Here's what most people don't realize about the parcel of land he chose to donate at the time: it was too hilly and woody for farming, livestock grazing, or developing into housing tracts. That made the acreage in question a potential property-tax loss for Griffith...who owed an outstanding tax debt to the city at the time. Was the land truly a gift? Could it have been a tax write-off? Or was Griffith trying to bribe the city into forgiving his existing tax debt?
The city of Los Angeles hesitated to acknowledge, let alone use, the "gift" at first. Gee, I wonder why.
Fifteen months later, Griffith formally deeded the land to the city. A special, jam-packed City Council session was held for the occasion. The Los Angeles Herald noted that "...Mr. Griffith stepped jauntily in, carrying a huge roll, tied with an immense bow of blue satin ribbon - the deed to Griffith Park." The midget egomaniac had gotten his way, and in a ludicrously theatrical manner at that.
Within a few years of "gifting" Griffith Park to the city, things took a much darker turn.
Griffith, who claimed to be a teetotaler, began to drink. Heavily. He reportedly drank up to two quarts of whiskey per day. (Which seems slightly implausible, since two quarts means 42.66 standard shots in one day, but in any case, those close to him knew he drank way, way too much.)
The religious arguments began. Somehow, Griffith became convinced that his Catholic wife was plotting with Pope Leo XIII to poison him and steal his fortune.
At one point, Griffith told Tina "Come in here, I want to speak to you" in such a frightening way that she fled the family home and spent the night at her sister Lucy's house.
When Louis Mesmer died in 1900, Tina inherited only $500 from her father's estate. The will explained that the amount was so small because Louis had arranged Tina's inheritance from André Briswalter.
Griffith's drinking and bizarre behavior continued to worsen.
On August 4, 1903, a new Pope was elected - Pius X. Around the same time, the Griffith family took a vacation in the Presidential suite of Santa Monica's posh Arcadia Hotel.
For weeks, Griffith's paranoid delusions about being poisoned by his wife - or even by the new Pope - led him to constantly switch cups and plates with Tina, or with their 15-year-old son Vandell. Tina finally had to have the hotel's kitchen send their meals up family-style, since Griffith would switch out plated portions.
Thursday, September 4 was the last day of the Griffiths' vacation. Tina was packing her trunk when Griffith ordered her to get onto her knees. She could see he was holding his revolver. He demanded she close her eyes, but she was too frightened to completely close them.
Griffith peppered poor Tina with questions, seemingly trying to implicate her in poisoning André Briswalter (who had died of blood poisoning), poisoning him, and even being unfaithful to him.
On this last question, Griffith fired the gun. Tina jerked away, with the bullet entering her left eye. She ran for the window, pried it open, and jumped out to escape. Tina landed on a piazza roof one floor down, breaking her shoulder.
Luckily for Tina, the hotel's owner was in an adjacent room and heard the commotion. He pulled her to safety, sent for a doctor, and called the sheriff.
Tina's siblings asked her doctor not to discuss her condition or the circumstances of the shooting. Griffith would immediately exploit this.
Griffith told newspapers that Tina had shot herself in a suicide attempt. He then told Vandell that his mother was shot when the pistol was dropped.
The Mesmers subsequently allowed Dr. Moore to make a statement - and rallied around their sister, bracing for a very ugly legal battle.
Dr. Moore notified the newspapers that Mrs. Griffith had been shot through the eye and needed surgery to remove the bullet, pieces of splintered orbital bone, and what remained of her destroyed eye. Tina was also badly concussed and in such poor overall condition that Dr. Moore postponed setting her broken shoulder for two more days.
Dr. Moore added that if the bullet had entered Tina’s eye just one-sixteenth of an inch lower, it would have entered her brain.
Another physician, Dr. Rogers, stated that gunpowder burns on Tina’s face indicated she had been shot from approximately two feet away.
The day after shooting Tina, Griffith spent a long afternoon and evening bar-hopping. Law enforcement was tailing him on foot, and he was arrested that night. He was quickly released on bail. Vandell, unable to visit his mother in the hospital, accompanied Griffith back to Los Angeles, where they checked into the Fremont Hotel.
Six days after the shooting, Griffith was served with divorce papers. Tina demanded her freedom, sole custody of Vandell, and her share of their enormous combined estate. A temporary injunction was issued to prevent Griffith from disposing of any property in the interim (gee, I wonder why the court had to do that...), and Tina was granted custody of Vandell for the duration of the proceedings. Since Tina couldn't leave the hospital yet, Vandell was placed in the temporary care of Tina’s stepmother, Jennie Mesmer.
Tina's legal team knew she would have difficulty winning back her property. Joseph Scott, Esq. told the Los Angeles Herald “Unfortunately for Mrs. Griffith, she so neglected her own rights at the time of her marriage as to deed all of her property to Griffith before their union. It was an act of renunciation based on the old idea of dower, and it will be exceedingly difficult to attack the property now. Mrs. Griffith’s ‘dower’ included a large part of what is now known as the Briswalter tract, and was estimated to be worth $500,000 at the time of her marriage. It would be hard to estimate its present value. While we anticipate no difficulty in obtaining a decree of divorce or in obtaining ample support for our client, it seems questionable whether she can obtain any approximation of what really should be hers.”
Griffith’s trial began February 15, 1904. Within a few days, the prosecution’s line of questioning showed a possible motive for the murder attempt.
P.S. I went to Griffith Park regularly as a child, and have returned plenty of times as an adult. I truly believe that it is one of the greatest urban parks in the world. But seeing Griffith lionized as a civic-minded Angeleno, knowing what he truly was, makes every last drop of my French blood boil.
Every Angeleno knows Griffith J. Griffith donated Griffith Park to the city of Los Angeles. In that story, Griffith gets to be the hero.
In the story of one of the most prominent French families in Los Angeles, however, Griffith will never be anything but a villain who got a slap on the wrist.
Born February 29, 1864 to industrious French immigrants who had become land barons*, Mary Agnes Christina "Tina" Mesmer spoke four languages, was a talented musician...and owned more than one million dollars' worth of Los Angeles real estate in her own name by the time she was 22.
 |
| Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer |
And she caught the eye of Griffith J. Griffith.
Born penniless in Wales, Griffith was nouveau riche to the hilt. He wore a frock coat and carried a cane - in still-the-Wild-West Los Angeles. He affected the title of "Colonel", despite not having served in the military at all. His idea of doing someone a favor was allowing them to be seen in public with him. One acquaintance dubbed him a "midget egomaniac"; another called him "a roly-poly pompous little fellow" and compared his walk to that of a strutting turkey.
God only knows how this obnoxious character managed to win the hand of pretty, well-bred Tina Mesmer.
In a letter to Tina dated January 8, 1887 - less than three weeks before their wedding - Griffith sought to break their engagement. He accused her of having misrepresented her wealth (...so a 22-year-old with a million dollars wasn't rich enough?) and of being a pawn in her father's hands.
Despite this giant red flag, the wedding did take place January 27, 1887.
At the time, it was a common practice for brides of means to deed their property and fortunes to their husbands when they got married. It was a dowry in all but name. And Tina Mesmer, not realizing what would happen to her, deeded her vast fortune to her new husband.
Big mistake.
Griffith was a devout Protestant. Tina was just as devoutly Catholic as the rest of the Mesmer clan (her father and brother were instrumental in finishing construction on St. Vibiana Cathedral). Instead of a church wedding, they had a small ceremony at the Mesmer family home. Griffith would later start religious arguments with Tina. But wait - it gets worse.
So. Much. Worse.
Just four months after marrying Tina, Griffith filed for partial distribution of André Briswalter's estate. Briswalter, a wealthy landowner himself, had been a friend of Tina's father Louis Mesmer and had left her some property on San Pedro Street. Griffith claimed that Tina had assigned her claim on the property to her father, and that Griffith had then bought the claim from Mesmer. Briswalter's large estate was in dispute due to an alleged illegitimate son, and the parties involved (including the Mesmers) had agreed to probate.
Probate was time-consuming, even in the 1880s. But Griffith didn't want to wait. Hmmm.
In December of 1896, Griffith J. Griffith announced he was donating 3,015 acres of Rancho Los Feliz for use as a public park. He stated "I consider it my obligation to make Los Angeles a happier, cleaner, and finer city. I wish to pay my debt of duty in this way to the community in which I have prospered."
Here's what most people don't realize about the parcel of land he chose to donate at the time: it was too hilly and woody for farming, livestock grazing, or developing into housing tracts. That made the acreage in question a potential property-tax loss for Griffith...who owed an outstanding tax debt to the city at the time. Was the land truly a gift? Could it have been a tax write-off? Or was Griffith trying to bribe the city into forgiving his existing tax debt?
The city of Los Angeles hesitated to acknowledge, let alone use, the "gift" at first. Gee, I wonder why.
Fifteen months later, Griffith formally deeded the land to the city. A special, jam-packed City Council session was held for the occasion. The Los Angeles Herald noted that "...Mr. Griffith stepped jauntily in, carrying a huge roll, tied with an immense bow of blue satin ribbon - the deed to Griffith Park." The midget egomaniac had gotten his way, and in a ludicrously theatrical manner at that.
Within a few years of "gifting" Griffith Park to the city, things took a much darker turn.
Griffith, who claimed to be a teetotaler, began to drink. Heavily. He reportedly drank up to two quarts of whiskey per day. (Which seems slightly implausible, since two quarts means 42.66 standard shots in one day, but in any case, those close to him knew he drank way, way too much.)
The religious arguments began. Somehow, Griffith became convinced that his Catholic wife was plotting with Pope Leo XIII to poison him and steal his fortune.
At one point, Griffith told Tina "Come in here, I want to speak to you" in such a frightening way that she fled the family home and spent the night at her sister Lucy's house.
When Louis Mesmer died in 1900, Tina inherited only $500 from her father's estate. The will explained that the amount was so small because Louis had arranged Tina's inheritance from André Briswalter.
Griffith's drinking and bizarre behavior continued to worsen.
On August 4, 1903, a new Pope was elected - Pius X. Around the same time, the Griffith family took a vacation in the Presidential suite of Santa Monica's posh Arcadia Hotel.
For weeks, Griffith's paranoid delusions about being poisoned by his wife - or even by the new Pope - led him to constantly switch cups and plates with Tina, or with their 15-year-old son Vandell. Tina finally had to have the hotel's kitchen send their meals up family-style, since Griffith would switch out plated portions.
Thursday, September 4 was the last day of the Griffiths' vacation. Tina was packing her trunk when Griffith ordered her to get onto her knees. She could see he was holding his revolver. He demanded she close her eyes, but she was too frightened to completely close them.
Griffith peppered poor Tina with questions, seemingly trying to implicate her in poisoning André Briswalter (who had died of blood poisoning), poisoning him, and even being unfaithful to him.
On this last question, Griffith fired the gun. Tina jerked away, with the bullet entering her left eye. She ran for the window, pried it open, and jumped out to escape. Tina landed on a piazza roof one floor down, breaking her shoulder.
Luckily for Tina, the hotel's owner was in an adjacent room and heard the commotion. He pulled her to safety, sent for a doctor, and called the sheriff.
Tina's siblings asked her doctor not to discuss her condition or the circumstances of the shooting. Griffith would immediately exploit this.
Griffith told newspapers that Tina had shot herself in a suicide attempt. He then told Vandell that his mother was shot when the pistol was dropped.
The Mesmers subsequently allowed Dr. Moore to make a statement - and rallied around their sister, bracing for a very ugly legal battle.
Dr. Moore notified the newspapers that Mrs. Griffith had been shot through the eye and needed surgery to remove the bullet, pieces of splintered orbital bone, and what remained of her destroyed eye. Tina was also badly concussed and in such poor overall condition that Dr. Moore postponed setting her broken shoulder for two more days.
Dr. Moore added that if the bullet had entered Tina’s eye just one-sixteenth of an inch lower, it would have entered her brain.
Another physician, Dr. Rogers, stated that gunpowder burns on Tina’s face indicated she had been shot from approximately two feet away.
Six days after the shooting, Griffith was served with divorce papers. Tina demanded her freedom, sole custody of Vandell, and her share of their enormous combined estate. A temporary injunction was issued to prevent Griffith from disposing of any property in the interim (gee, I wonder why the court had to do that...), and Tina was granted custody of Vandell for the duration of the proceedings. Since Tina couldn't leave the hospital yet, Vandell was placed in the temporary care of Tina’s stepmother, Jennie Mesmer.
Tina's legal team knew she would have difficulty winning back her property. Joseph Scott, Esq. told the Los Angeles Herald “Unfortunately for Mrs. Griffith, she so neglected her own rights at the time of her marriage as to deed all of her property to Griffith before their union. It was an act of renunciation based on the old idea of dower, and it will be exceedingly difficult to attack the property now. Mrs. Griffith’s ‘dower’ included a large part of what is now known as the Briswalter tract, and was estimated to be worth $500,000 at the time of her marriage. It would be hard to estimate its present value. While we anticipate no difficulty in obtaining a decree of divorce or in obtaining ample support for our client, it seems questionable whether she can obtain any approximation of what really should be hers.”
Griffith’s trial began February 15, 1904. Within a few days, the prosecution’s line of questioning showed a possible motive for the murder attempt.
Tina, who concealed her scarred face behind a veil, was asked a series of questions about her inheritance. She revealed that Griffith had been managing her business for their entire marriage. She had repeatedly asked him to settle up with her, since she wanted to handle her own land holdings. It was further revealed that had the bullet killed her, she would have died without a will.
Tina's share of the couple's estate would have automatically stayed with her homicidal husband instead of going to her only child or her siblings.
Tina's share of the couple's estate would have automatically stayed with her homicidal husband instead of going to her only child or her siblings.
Griffith, using a defense of “alcoholic insanity” (which sounds an awful lot like the Twinkie Defense if you ask me), was found guilty of a lesser charge - assault with a deadly weapon. He was sentenced to two years at San Quentin.
Two years in prison, for almost killing his long-suffering wife. Does anyone else smell that? I believe it's the distinct smell of bullshit.
Griffith’s original legal team, Silent & Works, sued him for $20,000 in attorneys’ fees.
Tina’s divorce case was heard on November 4, 1904. Judge Allen granted her a divorce on the grounds of cruelty after just four minutes of testimony. (Everyone thinks it's four and a half minutes. The earliest news article I can find covering the case says that it was four minutes, and poor Tina was too traumatized to say anything for much of that time. To my knowledge, it's the shortest divorce testimony on record.)
Griffith was not present at the divorce hearing. He was still in the County Jail, awaiting an appeal (an appeal - really?!). The financial end of the divorce was settled out of court. Griffith agreed to pay for Vandell's education, but demanded he not attend a Catholic-affiliated school (the Griffiths settled on Stanford, although Van ultimately did not go to college).
Griffith sobered up in prison, and tried to donate more land to the city, in addition to funds for an amphitheater and a science building. The Parks Commission didn't want it. Mount Griffith was renamed Mount Hollywood.
Griffith eventually donated all of the above and more to the city in his will, essentially buying himself respectability in death. His grave marker in Hollywood Forever Cemetery is so tall you can practically see it from space.
True to her family's strong Catholic faith, Tina was interred at Calvary Cemetery when she passed away in 1948.
True to her family's strong Catholic faith, Tina was interred at Calvary Cemetery when she passed away in 1948.
To this day, Griffith Park bears its founder’s name, in addition to his likeness in statue form (the terms of Griffith's "gift" required that the land be called Griffith Park in perpetuity).
Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer Griffith, who spent the rest of her life in seclusion at her sister and brother-in-law’s home, hiding her scarred face and empty eye socket behind a veil, has been forgotten.
Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer Griffith, who spent the rest of her life in seclusion at her sister and brother-in-law’s home, hiding her scarred face and empty eye socket behind a veil, has been forgotten.
Griffith Jenkins Griffith died from (what else...) liver disease on this day, one hundred years ago.
Good riddance.
Good riddance.
P.S. I went to Griffith Park regularly as a child, and have returned plenty of times as an adult. I truly believe that it is one of the greatest urban parks in the world. But seeing Griffith lionized as a civic-minded Angeleno, knowing what he truly was, makes every last drop of my French blood boil.
*There is a persistent myth that the Alsatian-born Mesmers were somehow descendants of/heirs to the Verdugo family, who were Californios. It’s NOT TRUE. It’s not even possible; I’ve spent hours on Ancestry checking this. For the love of macarons, Please. Stop. Saying. Tina. Was. A. Verdugo. Heiress.
Monday, June 17, 2019
Get On the Bus! Preservation Tour September 7
Regular readers may recall that 11 months ago, I received word that Jeanne d'Arc, who had stood guard outside the French Hospital/Pacific Alliance Medical Center since 1964, had vanished.
The next three days were a panicked blur.
An overlooked statue, with no landmark status (really, no protection of any kind), wordlessly removed from the privately-owned grounds of a defunct hospital in a city that allows so much of its history to be thrown in the garbage. It didn't look good for poor Jeanne.
And what of the French Benevolent Society, owners of the hospital site since 1869, who haven't had a public presence since 1989 and have yet to make any sort of comment on the sale of the property?
Get the story, straight from yours truly, on Esotouric's inaugural Saving Los Angeles Landmarks tour on Saturday, September 7.
Think you've read it all here? If you still need convincing...
Steve Luftman will be discussing Lytton Savings, Alan Hess will be discussing Pereira's Metropolitan Water District, and although artist Sheila Klein is unfortunately not able to appear, the fate of Vermonica will be featured.
These tours sell out, so get your tickets early!
The next three days were a panicked blur.
An overlooked statue, with no landmark status (really, no protection of any kind), wordlessly removed from the privately-owned grounds of a defunct hospital in a city that allows so much of its history to be thrown in the garbage. It didn't look good for poor Jeanne.
And what of the French Benevolent Society, owners of the hospital site since 1869, who haven't had a public presence since 1989 and have yet to make any sort of comment on the sale of the property?
Get the story, straight from yours truly, on Esotouric's inaugural Saving Los Angeles Landmarks tour on Saturday, September 7.
Think you've read it all here? If you still need convincing...
Steve Luftman will be discussing Lytton Savings, Alan Hess will be discussing Pereira's Metropolitan Water District, and although artist Sheila Klein is unfortunately not able to appear, the fate of Vermonica will be featured.
These tours sell out, so get your tickets early!
Friday, June 14, 2019
"About Where Union Station Is Today"
For years it was assumed that El Aliso - California's first commercial vineyard and winery - had stood on, or at least roughly on, the site we now know as Union Station.
As I've previously explained...that's not the case. The bulk of El Aliso, including the massive sycamore tree itself, stood south of the 101, opposite Union Station. (One of my older books also backs this up.)
And yet, for so long it has commonly been assumed that the Union Station site, or a spot very close to it, had been Jean-Louis Vignes' vineyard. Even the LA Times made this claim as recently as 2015.
Why?
Matthew Keller - "Don Mateo" to early Angelenos - was an Irish immigrant who had lived in Mexico and befriended Andrew Boyle (who became his brother-in-law) while he was south of the border.
Keller moved to Los Angeles in 1851, buying a 10-acre plot from Don Manuel Requena at Alameda and Aliso Streets. Which is awfully close to Union Station.
Don Mateo built a house, planted an orchard and a vineyard, and established the Los Angeles Vineyards winery, which is said to have extended towards the river.
Tellingly, Keller Street runs well behind Union Station, parallel to the river. (Mateo Street, also named for Keller, runs north-south through the Arts District.)
There was indeed a vineyard "about where Union Station is today", or at least very close by. It just wasn't El Aliso. It was Don Mateo Keller's Los Angeles Vineyards.
As I've previously explained...that's not the case. The bulk of El Aliso, including the massive sycamore tree itself, stood south of the 101, opposite Union Station. (One of my older books also backs this up.)
And yet, for so long it has commonly been assumed that the Union Station site, or a spot very close to it, had been Jean-Louis Vignes' vineyard. Even the LA Times made this claim as recently as 2015.
Why?
Matthew Keller - "Don Mateo" to early Angelenos - was an Irish immigrant who had lived in Mexico and befriended Andrew Boyle (who became his brother-in-law) while he was south of the border.
Keller moved to Los Angeles in 1851, buying a 10-acre plot from Don Manuel Requena at Alameda and Aliso Streets. Which is awfully close to Union Station.
Don Mateo built a house, planted an orchard and a vineyard, and established the Los Angeles Vineyards winery, which is said to have extended towards the river.
Tellingly, Keller Street runs well behind Union Station, parallel to the river. (Mateo Street, also named for Keller, runs north-south through the Arts District.)
There was indeed a vineyard "about where Union Station is today", or at least very close by. It just wasn't El Aliso. It was Don Mateo Keller's Los Angeles Vineyards.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Jean Renoir: The Greatest of All Directors
Once upon a time in Montmartre, a renowned Impressionist painter married a young dressmaker. They had three sons, all of them creative.
The first son, Pierre, became a stage and film actor.
The third son, Claude, had a short film career, but was primarily a ceramic artist.
The middle son, Jean Renoir (yes, his father was THAT Renoir) acted, wrote screenplays, produced films, and was dubbed "the greatest of all directors" by no less a director than Orson Welles.
The Renoir boys were largely raised by their nanny, Gabrielle Renard, who was also their mother's cousin and an occasional model for their father's paintings. Renard took them to Guignol puppet shows* and took little Jean to see his first motion picture when he was only a few years old. Writing of his nanny/second cousin years later, Renoir stated "She taught me to see the face behind the mask and the fraud behind the flourishes. She taught me to detest the cliché."
Like many wealthy children of the era, young Jean was sent to expensive boarding schools. He frequently ran away from them.
As a young adult, Jean served in the French cavalry during World War One. After taking a bullet to the leg, he watched the films of Charlie Chaplin (who would later call Renoir "the greatest film director in the world"), D.W. Griffith, Erich von Stroheim (his favorite) and countless others while recuperating. He recovered enough to serve as a reconnaissance pilot - but crucially, he had rediscovered his love of film.
In 1924, Jean directed his first silent film (he made nine), Une Vie Sans Joie. His films weren't profitable at this stage, and he slowly sold off paintings inherited from his father to finance his work.
By 1931, Renoir was making sound films. At last, he found success as a director. In 1938, he and his brother Claude founded their own production company, Nouvelle Edition Française.
One of Renoir's most famous films, La Grande Illusion, which he also co-wrote, tells the story of French POWs making multiple attempts to escape during World War One. Germany promptly banned the film (you know you're doing something right when the enemy tries to censor you), as did Italy...after the film won an award at the Venice Film Festival.
La Grande Illusion was the very first foreign-language film to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture. (You're definitely doing something right when the Academy takes notice!) Better yet, Renoir got to work with his favorite actor, Erich von Stroheim.
Renoir followed La Grande Illusion with La Béte Humaine. Based on Emile Zola's novel of the same name, La Béte Humaine might well be considered one of the earliest noir films on record. Jean's nephew, Claude Renoir, who became a noted cinematographer, was the camera operator for both La Grande Illusion and La Béte Humaine.
Also of note was The Rules of the Game, a satirical take on French high society. Renoir directed and also played Octave, who ties the story together. The film was panned by critics and audiences alike; however, it has since been called one of the greatest films of all time and has become both a favorite of film buffs and an influence on later filmmakers.
Renoir was a pacifist and had Communist leanings, which led to The Rules of the Game being banned off and on. Still, in 1939 at the age of 45, he joined the French Army Film Service as a lieutenant. The French government sent him to Italy to teach at Italy's national film school and to work on his film Tosca as part of a cultural exchange (Italy had not yet entered World War Two). Renoir abandoned the film and his teaching post to make himself available for military service instead.
The following spring, Renoir fled to the United States after Germany invaded France. Renoir struggled to find suitable projects in Hollywood (producer Darryl F. Zanuck stated "Renoir has plenty of talent, but he's not one of us"). He did, however, receive another Academy Award nomination for directing The Southerner in 1945.
Renoir's son from his first marriage, Alain, joined him in the U.S. in 1942 and joined the American army.
Although Renoir became a naturalized U.S. citizen, he returned to Europe in the 1950s to make more films. When health issues and a lack of financing prevented him from continuing to direct, Renoir retired to his Beverly Hills home, where he wrote his memoir My Life and My Films and his bestselling novel Les Cahiers du Capitaine Georges. (Renoir was approached, many times, about turning the novel into a film. He refused - he didn't want to film it, and he didn't want anyone else to film it either.)
Finally, in 1975, Renoir got his due.
London's National Film Theatre honored him with a retrospective of his work.
The French government awarded him the rank of commander in the Legion d'honneur.
And the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences honored him with a lifetime Academy Award for his contributions to the field, presented by Ingrid Bergman (unfortunately Renoir's poor health prevented him from attending the ceremony).
Renoir passed away at home in 1979 following a heart attack. He was buried alongside his family in France following a state funeral.
Jean Renoir was honored with his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Unfortunately, due to frequent construction, I have yet to get a picture of it.
Alain Renoir did not stay in Los Angeles - he pursued an academic career, founding UC Berkeley's Department of Comparative Literature in 1966. Dr. Renoir became an expert on Medieval English literature.
*For those unfamiliar with Guignol, he's not unlike Punch (England) or Pulcinella (Italy). Do not confuse with Grand Guignol, which is most assuredly not for children.
The first son, Pierre, became a stage and film actor.
The third son, Claude, had a short film career, but was primarily a ceramic artist.
The middle son, Jean Renoir (yes, his father was THAT Renoir) acted, wrote screenplays, produced films, and was dubbed "the greatest of all directors" by no less a director than Orson Welles.
The Renoir boys were largely raised by their nanny, Gabrielle Renard, who was also their mother's cousin and an occasional model for their father's paintings. Renard took them to Guignol puppet shows* and took little Jean to see his first motion picture when he was only a few years old. Writing of his nanny/second cousin years later, Renoir stated "She taught me to see the face behind the mask and the fraud behind the flourishes. She taught me to detest the cliché."
Like many wealthy children of the era, young Jean was sent to expensive boarding schools. He frequently ran away from them.
As a young adult, Jean served in the French cavalry during World War One. After taking a bullet to the leg, he watched the films of Charlie Chaplin (who would later call Renoir "the greatest film director in the world"), D.W. Griffith, Erich von Stroheim (his favorite) and countless others while recuperating. He recovered enough to serve as a reconnaissance pilot - but crucially, he had rediscovered his love of film.
In 1924, Jean directed his first silent film (he made nine), Une Vie Sans Joie. His films weren't profitable at this stage, and he slowly sold off paintings inherited from his father to finance his work.
By 1931, Renoir was making sound films. At last, he found success as a director. In 1938, he and his brother Claude founded their own production company, Nouvelle Edition Française.
One of Renoir's most famous films, La Grande Illusion, which he also co-wrote, tells the story of French POWs making multiple attempts to escape during World War One. Germany promptly banned the film (you know you're doing something right when the enemy tries to censor you), as did Italy...after the film won an award at the Venice Film Festival.
La Grande Illusion was the very first foreign-language film to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture. (You're definitely doing something right when the Academy takes notice!) Better yet, Renoir got to work with his favorite actor, Erich von Stroheim.
Renoir followed La Grande Illusion with La Béte Humaine. Based on Emile Zola's novel of the same name, La Béte Humaine might well be considered one of the earliest noir films on record. Jean's nephew, Claude Renoir, who became a noted cinematographer, was the camera operator for both La Grande Illusion and La Béte Humaine.
Also of note was The Rules of the Game, a satirical take on French high society. Renoir directed and also played Octave, who ties the story together. The film was panned by critics and audiences alike; however, it has since been called one of the greatest films of all time and has become both a favorite of film buffs and an influence on later filmmakers.
Renoir was a pacifist and had Communist leanings, which led to The Rules of the Game being banned off and on. Still, in 1939 at the age of 45, he joined the French Army Film Service as a lieutenant. The French government sent him to Italy to teach at Italy's national film school and to work on his film Tosca as part of a cultural exchange (Italy had not yet entered World War Two). Renoir abandoned the film and his teaching post to make himself available for military service instead.
The following spring, Renoir fled to the United States after Germany invaded France. Renoir struggled to find suitable projects in Hollywood (producer Darryl F. Zanuck stated "Renoir has plenty of talent, but he's not one of us"). He did, however, receive another Academy Award nomination for directing The Southerner in 1945.
Renoir's son from his first marriage, Alain, joined him in the U.S. in 1942 and joined the American army.
Although Renoir became a naturalized U.S. citizen, he returned to Europe in the 1950s to make more films. When health issues and a lack of financing prevented him from continuing to direct, Renoir retired to his Beverly Hills home, where he wrote his memoir My Life and My Films and his bestselling novel Les Cahiers du Capitaine Georges. (Renoir was approached, many times, about turning the novel into a film. He refused - he didn't want to film it, and he didn't want anyone else to film it either.)
Finally, in 1975, Renoir got his due.
London's National Film Theatre honored him with a retrospective of his work.
The French government awarded him the rank of commander in the Legion d'honneur.
And the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences honored him with a lifetime Academy Award for his contributions to the field, presented by Ingrid Bergman (unfortunately Renoir's poor health prevented him from attending the ceremony).
Renoir passed away at home in 1979 following a heart attack. He was buried alongside his family in France following a state funeral.
Jean Renoir was honored with his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Unfortunately, due to frequent construction, I have yet to get a picture of it.
Alain Renoir did not stay in Los Angeles - he pursued an academic career, founding UC Berkeley's Department of Comparative Literature in 1966. Dr. Renoir became an expert on Medieval English literature.
*For those unfamiliar with Guignol, he's not unlike Punch (England) or Pulcinella (Italy). Do not confuse with Grand Guignol, which is most assuredly not for children.
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