So I Had To Write Another Letter To The Editor...

Dear Editors:

Today's otherwise delightful article on LA's oldest restaurants contained a factual error. 

It stated "At Philippe’s second, current home — where it’s stood since 1918..." and unfortunately, that's not accurate. 

I have been working on a map of French and Francophone history in Los Angeles since 2013. 

From 1908 to 1918, Philippe the Original stood on Alameda Street, south of Temple Street.  The restaurant moved to Alameda Street east of Los Angeles Street in 1918. Another location (purchased by Philippe Mathieu in 1925) stood on Aliso near Alameda Street - the core of the now-lost French Colony. (In fact, all of the first three locations were within the French Colony's original boundaries of Aliso Street, Main Street, First Street, and the river.)

The restaurant stayed on Aliso Street until 1951 (you can even see it in the background of that infamous 1948 picture of a train crashing through a wall at Union Station and hanging over Aliso Street), when plans for the 101 prompted its move to its current location in Chinatown.

Thank you.

P.S. On a personal note, my parents used to go to Philippe's on dates. 

All About the Amars

Le Guide Français claims that Edouard Amar's name "was once synonymous with San Pedro". I suspect this is a slight exaggeration, although I can confirm that he played a significant role in its history.

Like so many other French immigrants in Southern California, Edouard was a sheep rancher, raising tens of thousands of sheep on Rancho Alamitos while building some of San Pedro's earliest bungalows and developing Pacific Avenue's commercial district. In fact, a residential street in northeastern San Pedro still bears the name Amar Street and the San Pedro News Pilot dubbed him "the Father of Pacific Street".

Amar was well-liked; he was the Grand Marshal of the annual Bastille Day celebration in 1889, the one hundredth anniversary of the French Revolution. In 1889, San Pedro was relatively remote, much smaller than it is now, and technically not part of the City of Los Angeles (which didn't absorb San Pedro until 1909). 

Amar's accomplishments sadly didn't shield him from tragedies. His first wife Marie Garineaux died at the young age of 32 in 1887, leaving Edouard to raise their two-year-old daughter Irma.

Edouar remarried the following year, this time to Josephine Boisserand, who hailed from his Alpine hometown of St. Bonnet. 

By 1895, the Amars had lost three babies to croup - Edouard at one year, Emmanuel at one month, and Henri at nine months. Leon and Eloi survived infancy.

Leon was a bright, promising student who played cornet in the Angel Gate youth band, served as president of the Fifteenth Street School's literary society (Fifteenth Street School, which is now an elementary school, also housed San Pedro High School at the time), and began attending Santa Clara College in San Jose at seventeen. 

Unfortunately, Leon was also diabetic, and diabetes was much harder to treat in the early twentieth century than it is now. His health took a turn for the worse in 1912, and in September of 1913, his worsening condition resulted in being taken to Sisters' Hospital (aka St. Vincent's), then located in Echo Park.

Leon's surviving siblings were summoned. Irma, by this time married and living in San Francisco, could not get to Los Angeles in time to say goodbye to her youngest brother. Eloi, who was in Imperial County at the time (Edouard owned a ranch in Brawley), was also unable to get to the hospital quickly enough. Leon's remains were handled by Godeau & Martinoni, with a funeral at the Plaza Church and interment at Calvary Cemetery. Six of his schoolmates served as pallbearers. 

1938 press photo of Eloi Amar

Eloi was a football star at St. Vincent's College (Loyola Marymount University), spent a year studying in Europe (picking up French, Spanish, Italian, and even Basque), raised sheep with his father and cattle on Catalina Island (of which he was general manager under the Bannings and the Wrigleys), got into the mercantile business, and was organizer and president of the San Pedro Golf and Country Club. He was a very popular man about town in San Pedro; hardly any organization didn't boast Eloi or his wife Bessie as a member.

Eloi eventually became president of the Harbor Commission. It would prove to be his downfall - at least temporarily. 

Dr. Geraldine Knatz has a great write-up on Eloi's alleged misdeeds, so I won't rehash it here. TL;DR: gambling.

But don't feel too bad for Eloi. While he was found guilty, he soon landed a job as General Manager of the Long Beach Harbor Department and got his revenge on Los Angeles by shifting as much business as possible to Long Beach, which was flush with oil money at the time.

Gone Too Soon: Pierre Louis Eschardies

Pierre Louis Eschardies Jr., known as "Pete" to his friends, had it all, or was about to.

Tall, dark, and athletic, Pete was born in Los Angeles to French immigrant parents in 1893. He was named for his uncle Pierre and his father Louis.

Pete may have been mechanically inclined from a young age - the 1910 census lists a teenage Pete as a helper in a foundry.

Pete was a noted amateur boxer, a member of the Los Angeles Athletic Club, and according to the Los Angeles Herald "one of the most daring road drivers who ever tackled a mountain race."

The automobile industry was young, and Pete was already one of its rising stars, at least on the West Coast.

Pete worked for J.W. Leavitt, first as a mechanic, then adding sales to his skill set. 

Leavitt's firm sold Overland and Willys-Knight cars, but took over Chevrolet sales from the Ryus Motor Car Company (sources disagree over whether this was in 1916 or 1917). 

In 1915, the manager of Chevrolet's sales division and driver Fred Aubert came up with the idea of demonstrating the new Chevrolet 490 by lighting up Mount Wilson on Labor Day evening and racing the car to the top, setting a record driving time of 36 minutes (hey, it was 1915!). The race took place again on Labor Day, 1916, but Aubert was injured in an accident on a practice run, and a replacement driver had to be arranged on very short notice. About twenty Chevrolet salesmen clamored for the chance, but Pete, or "Wild Pete", as the newspaper called him, was selected.

Pete spent Labor Day in its entirety making practice runs up and down Mount Wilson to familiarize himself with the 120 curves along its 9.5 miles of road. By 7:30 pm, it was dark and foggy, and Pete was tired, but about a thousand spectators were waiting to watch Pete drive the 490 up the mountain. 

In the words of the Los Angeles Herald:

With a roar and a blast Pete was on his way. With lights flashing in and out around the curves and in the canyons, he climbed rapidly upward until he was lost in a fog bank three miles from the top. A few minutes of anxious suspense and then a great red flare broke out at the summit announcing that he had arrived safely.

Pete not only made it to the top of Mount Wilson despite the fog and a long day of practice runs - he set a new record of 35 minutes.

Pete quickly worked his way up to Chevrolet sales manager in 1918 at the tender age of 25. The buzz around Auto Row that summer was that Pete was going to marry his sweetheart, Esther Lind, and then go off to fight in World War One (he had registered for the draft the year before). It didn't quite pan out that way.

Shortly after World War One ended, the Spanish influenza pandemic broke out, and several members of the Eschardies household were stricken. 

The Spanish flu was a brutal killer, claiming the lives of many otherwise perfectly healthy adults. On the night of January 8, 1919, it became apparent that Pete was not going to live for much longer.

Despite quarantine restrictions, someone sent for Esther Lind and a minister. Esther stood on the Eschardies' porch, Pete's bedside window was opened, and the minister performed the marriage ceremony.

Pete died the next day and is buried at Calvary Cemetery. 

The French (and Italian) Funeral Home

It's not exactly a secret that San Francisco had quite a large French community of its own. Hell, San Francisco had an active French Hospital until relatively recently (it still exists, but is now a "campus" of a larger hospital).

Julius Stephen Godeau, who went by J.S. Godeau professionally, was born in San Francisco to French immigrant parents. He was a director of the aforementioned French Hospital and belonged, incredibly, to 40 fraternal organizations.

Atkins-Massey, founded during the Gold Rush and by far the oldest funeral home in the city, went up for sale in 1895. Godeau snapped it up.

Godeau went on to open an Oakland branch, and much later, one in Stockton. But in 1910, Los Angeles beckoned.

Ad for Godeau & Martinoni, March 11, 1910.
Do note that "Lady attendant" probably refers to Katherine Martinoni.

Godeau knew that the growing city of Los Angeles had large French and Italian communities, and sought to tap that market. But he couldn't be everywhere at once, and travel took longer in those days. So he took business partners for the Los Angeles branch - James Martinoni and his wife Katherine Piombo Martinoni. (Godeau and Martinoni may have known each other due to their mutual membership in a fraternity, the Ancient Order of Druids.) James held the role of funeral director, Katherine was a mortician.

Yes, there was a woman working as a mortician in Los Angeles over 100 years ago. Pretty cool, huh?

James passed away just a few years later in 1914, but Katherine kept working.

Excerpt from James Martinoni's 1914 death notice. Like Godeau, he was a high-ranking member of multiple fraternities.

1910 news blurb from the Times. Godeau's membership in 40 fraternities very likely brought in a good amount of referral business, as in this case of a deceased Mason.

1910 ad from The Tidings, published by the Society of St. Vincent de Paul.

In an interesting coincidence, J.S. Godeau poached a hardworking teenage boy from a rival's casket business - Raymond Malburg, future son-in-law of J.B. Leonis - to work at the Los Angeles branch. Raymond, who had started out building coffins, became a mortician himself.

In Godeau and Martinoni's early days, the mortuary was located at 827 South Figueroa Street, and young Raymond lived onsite (as did the Martinonis). It later moved to "Mortuary Row" on Washington Boulevard.

The Martinonis' niece, Florine Olivieri, helped with the books while earning her degree in Accounting at Southwest University. 

It's not unusual for members of an ethnic or cultural community to patronize each others' businesses, and Godeau and Martinoni received a good amount of their business from the French and Italian communities of Los Angeles. 

1913 funeral announcement for Leon Amar, teenage son of San Pedro pioneer Edward Amar. 

1912 funeral notice for French immigrant Emil Louis Barclay. 
The notice references the Court Français and the Legion Français - one wonders if Godeau belonged to either or (more likely) both.

1913 funeral notice for Italian immigrant Mary Magdalena Zanoni

1913 funeral notice for French immigrant Joseph Luquet

1919 funeral announcement for Pierre Louis Eschardies.

1913 funeral announcement for French immigrant Antoine Begon

There are far too many funeral notices to post here; suffice it to say that Godeau and Martinoni was a very busy firm for decades.

Godeau and Martinoni even handled the funeral for Mickey Cohen's infamous bodyguard Johnny Stompanato.

When Katherine Martinoni passed away in 1938, 30-year-old Florine took over as senior partner (working with two transplanted brothers from Ohio, Dick and Frank Palmieri), staying until her own death in 1968.

J.S. Godeau's Bay Area funeral homes closed in the 1970s. Godeau and Martinoni was bought out by Pierce Brothers in 1984.

Jean Trébaol Vanishes

Sometimes, people just disappear.

It's much less common in the digital age. It would have been relatively easy to vanish without a trace - either intentionally or unintentionally - in 1919, when Jean Trébaol was last seen alive.

Born in Brest, he came to the States in 1893 at the age of 24, and soon married another Brest native, Jeanne de Kersauson de Pennendreff. The couple rented a house at 125 4th Street and would eventually have fourteen children (with thirteen surviving infancy).

Jean was a teacher and linguist, but took a job editing the French-language newspaper Le Progrès either with or under the notoriously unsavory J.P. Goytino. A squabble prompted Jean to leave and establish his own paper, Le Français. He boasted in English-language advertisements that Le Français was "the only French newspaper in Southern California established, published, and owned by a Frenchman." 

This must have come as quite a surprise to Pierre Ganée, a fellow French immigrant who established, published, and owned rival paper L'Union Nouvelle. 

The Herald published an article in 1897 about Constance Goytino (wife of J.P. and daughter of Joseph Mascarel) horse-whipping Mme. Trébaol outside a courtroom after a hearing. Jeanne's 17-year-old brother Robert, who was to inherit a considerable sum of money, had nominated J.P. as his legal guardian. Jeanne and her sister Isabel had concerns about Goytino's appointment. Constance also accused the Trébaols of trash-talking her. Jean sent a letter to the Herald politely informing them that Constance had attacked Jeanne unprovoked, that Jeanne had not actually taken the stand, and that "Judge Clark granted what we were intending for, namely, that Goytino as a guardian be put under heavy bonds and be restrained from incurring any liabilities on the principal of his ward."

Le Français merged with L'Union Nouvelle in 1900, and Jean went back to teaching.

With a large family to support and teacher pay being less than robust, Jean had more than one job. He taught French at Los Angeles High School, taught night classes at Polytechnic High School, taught at the Ebell Club of Pasadena, and taught privately. 

He also wrote for the Herald occasionally. Of particular note is Jean's 1901 essay "The Corset Question". While Jean wasn't 100 percent correct on the history of corsets, he expressed concerns over the health effects of tightlacing and predicted - correctly - that some women would continue to wear body-shaping undergarments (although these days waist trainers and other shapewear are far more common than corsets) instead of embracing their natural shape. While he chalks this up to vanity, I surmise he was unaware of the pressure to look a certain way that many women still face, well over a century later.

In 1903, Jean suffered a breakdown from stress, overwork, and starving himself for months to feed his children. He was sent to the San Gabriel sanitarium for a few weeks to recover. A newspaper blurb solicited financial assistance for the Trébaols, who had five children by this point. (Given the date of the article and the birthdates of their children, Jeanne would have been caring for 8-month-old Yvonne and was already expecting Edouard.)

1903 blurb regarding Jean Trébaol's hospitalization due to a breakdown

Blurb regarding a subscription, or donation fund, for the Trébaols

Jeanne was appointed legal guardian to her husband after his breakdown. A real estate transaction listed in the newspaper suggests she sold the family home on his behalf.

1909 newspaper blurb mentioning Trébaol's second hospitalization

A snippet from one of the San Francisco papers indicates that Jean lost or pawned a bag filled with important papers and photographs (which were an expensive luxury in 1909) prior to being committed to a mental hospital again. Jeanne came to San Francisco and requested police assistance in locating the bag. 

When World War One broke out in 1914, Jean tried to enlist. He was turned down due to being in his forties and having thirteen living children. (Georges Le Mesnager, by contrast, had five children, four of whom had reached adulthood.)

The Trébaols moved to Hollywood, which was still semi-rural. The family's three cows got out one day, prompting the judge to order Trébaol to keep them in another neighborhood and secure them properly.

1917 blurb about the Trébaol family's cows escaping

Jean took a job at the French Consulate for a while, then accepted a teaching post at the Mare Island YMCA in Vallejo, teaching French to sailors from the naval base bound for France. He published a small textbook related to this post. The rest of the Trébaols remained in the family home in Los Angeles.

Jean was known to the staff of the Echo de l'Ouest, one of the Bay Area's own French-language newspapers. He stopped by the newspaper's office on May 31, 1919, appearing to be severely depressed, and told the staff that he needed a complete rest. According to them, he was not himself that day. 

On June 1, Jean spent the night at the home of his brother René, who lived in Vallejo. The San Francisco Call stated that he was suffering from a nervous breakdown. He vanished the following morning.

Jean Trébaol was never seen again.

One colleague noted that there was talk of him drowning, which is certainly plausible given Vallejo's location on the Bay. It was widely assumed that he must have died in either an accident or - especially in the light of his apparent depression - by suicide.

Jean never found out that he had just been selected as the Vallejo schools' French teacher. 

Jeanne came up from Los Angeles to search for her missing husband, but it was to no avail. 

The California Historical Society Quarterly claimed that "Mascarel offered Madame Trébaol a house of prostitution as a good source of revenue after her husband's disappearance, but she declined, especially as she would have to live in it herself!" While the French Colony was known to step up for those in need, this story isn't even possible; Joseph Mascarel had passed away twenty years earlier in 1899 at the age of 83.

Jeanne DID need money, of course. She was a mother of thirteen living children, and although her two oldest children were in their twenties, the youngest was only four years old.

Six of the Trébaol children were already "appearing in motion pictures", as the Call put it, when their father disappeared. The other seven were soon looking for acting gigs as well. 

Jean had suffered from memory loss during previous mental health episodes, and had once spotted a newspaper advertisement placed by Jeanne, recovered his memory, and returned home. Besides earning money in the movies, the family hoped Jean would see and recognize one of his children on the screen.

Older brothers Hervé and Oliver went overseas (presumably to fight in the war), returning in 1919 and going on to higher education (in Hervé's case, becoming a priest and serving for years at St. Mariana in Pico Rivera). Eldest daughter Cecile helped Jeanne keep house and worked as a telephone operator at night. The other ten siblings continued to act.

1919 news article with picture of Jean Trébaol

When he was cast as the Artful Dodger in the 1922 version of Oliver Twist, Edouard told the San Bernardino Sun that "somebody asked mother to try to get some of us in the movies and so finally mother took a few of us around to picture studios. It was hard work, walking from studio to studio, and there was very little for us then. In fact it was many weeks before we received our first call. That was for a picture with Miss Pickford. Since then, the picture directors have been very kind. After they learned about our dad...they seemed glad to give any of us work when they could. Now every one of us is in pictures. Why, even mother herself sometimes plays."

1922 picture of Jeanne with her 13 children.
Headline reads "Thirteen Children Act in Movies But Want Their Daddy Not Fame."

Out of the thirteen Trébaol children, IMDB lists acting credits for Edouard, Jeanette, François (credited as "Francis"), Philippe, Yves, and Marie. I hasten to add that in the very early days of the motion picture industry, actors were not always credited by name, and it's likely that the other children worked as extras or in uncredited roles, since Jeanne did.

In an interesting footnote, Jeanette was apparently not put off teaching by her father's struggles. A 1946 news article mentions her joining the summer school staff at San Pedro High School thirty years earlier, teaching English and Spanish. That fall, she stayed on, teaching at Polytechnic High during the day and night school in the evenings.

Clementine Lamer Did It Her Way

Clementine Lamer wasn't meant to live an ordinary life. How many Angelenos throughout history could accurately claim that they were born in the oldest brick house in the city?

Clementine was, in fact, one of her middle names. Born in 1859 to French immigrants Michel Clement and Marie Bon Clement, she was originally dubbed Marie Jeanne Clementine Clement (some records reverse her first two names) and had an older brother named Michel Victor (who also went by his middle name). 

Michel was a farmer and vintner (newspapers indicated that he owned land next to the El Aliso vineyard), but later sold his winemaking business to his brother-in-law J.B. Bon. It isn't clear when the elder Marie Clement passed away, but Michel remarried in 1864, when Clementine was five. 

Michel passed away when Clementine was thirteen. She attended the Sisters' School run by the Daughters of Charity.

In the meantime, a Québecois blacksmith by the name of Amable Lamer came to Los Angeles. Clementine married him when she was eighteen. 

Amable soon went into the vineyard business himself, which led to a farm in Burbank. But Clementine pursued a passion of her own - real estate.

An 1884 newspaper account references a parcel jointly owned by Clementine and Victor. That parcel, along First Street east of the river, had previously been part of their father's land holdings. Three years later, a different newspaper gives notice of that parcel being sold by Clementine, Victor, their stepmother Jennie, and Amable. That parcel would later become the site of the Salt Lake train depot.

More news blurbs (too many to post) indicate Clementine's real estate transactions, sometimes with her brother, sometimes with her husband, and over time, mostly by herself.

Clementine was also a mother of six: Edward, Victor, Emma, Florence, Marie, and Louis. Tragedy struck in 1892 when 9-year-old Edward died. 

1894 news blurb noting Clementine Lamer's purchase of bank-owned acreage

1895 mortgage record naming Clementine Lamer and Leonard Labory 

The above mortgage record names a transaction between Clementine Lamer and Leonard Labory - namesake of Labory Lane in Frenchtown. Note that the property is in the Aliso tract. By 1895, El Aliso was long closed, the winery had been converted into a brewery, and some of Jean-Louis Vignes' original property had been subdivided and developed.

In 1919, Clementine bought a bungalow at 553 Angeleno Avenue in Burbank. This wasn't one of her usual transactions, it was for her own family, and they moved in a month later.

Details of Clementine Lamer's real estate deal

1924 article about a valuable real estate deal involving Clementine Lamer's property at 9th and Figueroa

Clementine made a multi-million dollar deal in 1924: a 99-year lease on a Figueroa Street plot (the parcel in question is behind the Original Pantry Cafe). Clementine had bought it in 1903 for $20,000. The terms of her deal with the Figueroa Investment Company required them to replace the existing two-story building with a larger one worth at least $200,000 and to pay a total of $2.8 million.

In 1925, the Sisters' School held an alumni reunion. The Daily News photographed the school's oldest and youngest former students together - namely Clementine Lamer and 14-year-old Marjorie Kenny.

1925 photo of Clementine Lamer at Sisters' School reunion with youngest alumnus Marjorie Kenny.

1927 news blurb about Clementine Lamer's trip around the world

Amable passed away in 1926. In 1927, Clementine went on a trip around the world, cabling her daughter Marie at home in Burbank to inform her of the travel group's safe arrival in Honolulu.

Clementine's trip also went to Europe, with the above article snippet indicating she had left Brussels for London.

Clementine Lamer passed away in 1928. She was 69. The Lamers are buried at Calvary Cemetery. Lamer Street runs through Burbank to this day.

What's REALLY Going On With Taix?

I won't rehash the entire lengthy saga of the battle for Taix French Restaurant. That would take far too long. Here's the Cliffs Notes version, with links. TL;DR: the whole thing is about as sketchy as it gets.

Last week, photographer Gary Leonard posted a picture of a freshly-desecrated Taix. The mature plants in the brick planters are gone, "TAIX" has been (badly) painted on the side of the building (right over the decorative half-timbering), and both the roof and the planters appear to be falling into disrepair. 

I suspect this is a deliberate move to drum up support for demolishing the building by making it look as bad as possible while still keeping the restaurant open - for now.

No permit was filed for the sloppy "mural", and there is something very strange (and concerning) about the demolition permit that the developer, Holland Partner Group, filed three months ago. (No permit has been issued - YET.)

From the permit: 

DEMO AN (E) 1 STORY BUILDING OF APPROX 15,167 SF SINGLE STORY RESTAURANT WITH 2,554 SF BASEMENT. CLEAR LOT OF CURBS, PLANTERS, LIGHT POLES, ASPHAULT, SHRUBS ETC. NOTE: INTEND TO KEEP THE BASEMENT IN PLACE, AS IS. THE BASEMEN WILL BE ADDRESSED IN THE SHORING PLANS

Take special notice of that last bit: leaving the basement.

Basements are RARE in Los Angeles, and California has very stringent building codes due to earthquakes. Leaving an old basement in place when a new development is planned makes little sense.

There is also the matter of precedent. 

According to my friends at Esotouric, "We're not builders, but we are historians of redevelopment. And we know that in the past, when L.A. property owners wanted to cheaply get rid of an inconvenient building, they would leave the basement untouched, and often fill it with rubble from the building above, then pave over the parcel and have a lucrative surface parking lot until they got around to developing the land - sometimes decades later, sometimes never."

No one knows LA history better than Kim and Richard, and this does have the hallmarks of a potential cheap demolition. Filling the basement with debris and paving it would make entirely too much sense here, and it tracks with the worsening condition of the building. HPG could make money renting out parking spaces while waiting on permits, and the flea market already held on site could expand.

Assuming the planned project does get built, there would be underground parking, and the filled-in basement would presumably have to be excavated along with much of the lot. In the meantime, it's possible that the property (which already has a massive parking lot for Echo Park) could sit empty for years. (On a related note, I'm going to be furious if Taix is lost to an even bigger parking lot than the existing one.)

And it just might.

It's well known that Holland Partner Group paid $12 million for the Taix parcel and the adjoining overflow parking lot. Even in gentrified Echo Park, that's overpaying. HPG also spent six figures buying Mitch O'Farrell's support (this is on the public record). It begs the question of how much money HPG may have spent, in total, on the proposed redevelopment already (I suspect there might possibly have been other arrangements with other people) - and how much more they can justify paying for it.

Clyde Holland has an estimated net worth in the billions. You don't get rich and stay rich by holding onto an investment that isn't making the returns you'd expected. Most investors will dump an asset that isn't performing well enough.

Could HPG possibly be looking to offload the Taix parcels to another developer? Empty lots are far more appealing to developers than built-up ones - no pesky tenants to remove and no pesky demolition permits to secure.

Developers sometimes tell lies to get what they want - especially in LA. That's fact, not fiction.

Consider Lytton Savings, a "protected" landmark demolished for a Frank Gehry project that is probably never going to be built.

Consider the Chili Bowl, torn down because of vague mumblings about an affordable housing project that wasn't even planned. To the best of my knowledge, there hasn't been a whisper about it since, and I suspect there never will be.

While HPG's stated plan is to build on the site, I can't be 100 percent sure of that anymore.

In any case, go to Taix while it's still standing. If it is torn down, there might not be a new building for quite some time.