California Science Center is getting the big orange external tank to go with Shuttle Endeavour ... Guitar hero Albert Lee on the skiffle and early rock scene in Britain ... LACMA opens exhibit on 300 years of men's fashion ...
Next piece of Shuttle Endeavour exhibit is floating towards California Science Center
When space shuttle Endeavour arrived in Los Angeles in 2012, it drew 1.5 million spectators, media attention and lots of amazing photos. But it was incomplete.
Even having the iconic orbiter on display isn't enough for Jeffery Rudolph, president of the California Science Center, the space shuttle's home. "Our dream for years has been to display the full space shuttle stack," Rudolph said.
That dream is now one tank-sized step closer to reality. Rudolph is making the final preparations to receive Endeavour's space shuttle tank — the huge orange tank that helps space shuttles take off — at the science center.
The external tank, which carried Space Shuttle Endeavour's 535,000 gallons of propellants, is a whole lot bigger than the orbiter that arrived in 2012. It's more than 15 stories high, taller than the Statue of Liberty (not including the base) and weighs 75,000 pounds when empty. The external tanks were designed to burn up after take-off. The one the Science Center is getting, ET-94, was never used, and NASA donated it to the center.
Rudolph says ET-94 won't be as hard to drive through the streets of Los Angeles than the orbiter Endeavour. "It's a lot easier for us to move through the city, because it doesn't have wings on it," he explained.
The tank is currently sitting on a barge on its way to the Panama Canal. Then it's off to San Diego for US Customs and eventually to Marina Del Rey. It'll be driven to the California Science Center on May 21. "That'll be a most of the day move," Rudolph said. "We're going to start around midnight and it will be until about 6 o'clock on Saturday."
When ET-94 arrives at the California Science Center, it will bring a unique piece of history with it: It's the last remaining flight-qualified tank: "It was the sister tank to ET-93, manufactured at the same time, [which] was on the Columbia. Columbia burned up on reentry because it had been damaged by foam that broke off ET-93, so after the Columbia accident, the investigation board that was reviewing that cut out large pieces of the foam [from ET-94]," Rudolph said.
Not too far into the distant future, Rudolph and the team at the California Science Center plan to join Endeavor and the tank with its two booster rockets, now in Utah. When it all gets here, the space center will put the pieces together in a building adjacent to the center and point it skywards. They don't have all the giant space craft movers that NASA has, so they're borrowing a trick from the Russians.
"It is actually incredibly complex engineering. We actually went to the techniques the Russians used. The Russians built their own shuttle, they never launched it, but they actually assembled it horizontally and titled it up, and that's what we're gonna do," Rudolph said. "It's gonna be an amazing thing, another thing to look forward to in a couple of years."
First Look: Highland Park Bowl restored to its 1927 splendor
The Highland Park Bowl, at 5621 North Figueroa Street LA CA 90042, is scheduled to open to the public Friday, April 29.
The 1933 Group, which refurbished the historic Idle Hour in North Hollywood and runs other evocative bars across like the Bigfoot Lodge in Atwater Village and Harlowe in West Hollywood, is re-opening the historic Highland Park Bowl on Figueroa Street in Northeast Los Angeles.
Most neighbors know the space at 5621 North Figueroa St. as Mr. T's Bowl, named for the man that bought the bowling alley in 1966 and mid-century-modernized it with a new facade, wall coverings and drop ceilings. Bowling was eventually pushed into the gutter and it became a well-known punk rock venue.
That's when entrepreneur Bobby Green, one of the 1933 Group partners, first heard of it. "I used to go to music shows there in the mid to late-'90s," he says. "I know I saw a lot of great punk rock bands there back in the day." He laughs that he didn't even think it was a bowling alley because it was so well disguised by that point, with a huge black curtain that blocked off the lanes.
The 1933 Group has been working on the restoration, Green says, for a year and a half. "1927 is pretty much what you're going to see when you come in. We were able to strip back all the years of remodel. It's a gorgeous space with a bow-truss ceiling, a forest mural that was hidden on the back wall (painted by the Arts&Craft Anderson Brothers) and eight skylights that were boarded up when we took it over." (Mr. T's was not known for being well-lit.)
Green says Joseph "Mr. T" Theresa didn't do too much damage. His additions were mostly cosmetic, including a thin metal facade on the building that protected its original Spanish Revival front.
"A 1927 newspaper article we dug up called it 'the most beautiful building on Figueroa,'" Green says. "And sure enough, after that metal came off, there was the original building, the beautiful windows, and 'The Highland Park Bowl' was still painted on the stucco in the front."
Not that the restoration wasn't costly. Green says his group has spent about $2-million so far, about what they spent to restore the Idle Hour in NoHo. For example, restoring each of the eight bowling lanes cost $30,ooo, spent mostly on wood and machinery.
The 1933 Group isn't new to the gentrified neighborhood of Highland Park. In 2002 it bought the notorious Richard's Hofbrau just down the street from The Highland Park Bowl and turned it into The Little Cave, now La Cuevita.
As at all 1933 Group establishments, there will be food (wood-fired pizzas, sandwiches and salads under executive chef Richie Lopez) and cocktails like The Dude Abides, a take on the White Russian.
Listen to the audio for John's full interview with Bobby Green, which includes more stories about bowling equipment, the notorious Hofbrau, and when Bobby knows a neighborhood is ready for a new bar. Hint: follow the artists.
BJ Novak writes a children’s book with no pictures, still makes kids laugh
Actor, comedian and writer BJ Novak wrote a children's book called "The Book With No Pictures" in 2014, but his work didn't stop there.
This month, Novak and his publisher donated 10,000 copies to First Book, a nonprofit that provides educational materials to low-income families. He stopped at 52nd Street Elementary in South Los Angeles to present the books and give a reading to students.
On writing a children's book
I had this idea of what I would laugh at as a kid, and I often read books to my best friend's kids, my cousin's kids. I am always looking for the funniest book I can find. And as I was reading one, I just had this idea, ‘You know, I think if the book were making me say silly things, that would the funniest thing to a kid.'
A book that looked serious and it made me say these words. And then I thought 'Well, that could be the whole premise of the book.' And then when I thought 'What would the pictures be?' I thought maybe it doesn’t need pictures. And then I thought maybe that’s the hook.
On choosing a title
The whole idea it’s kind of introducing the kids to deadpan and comedy. The book has a kind of formal look to it. It’s white with black text and just words: The Book with No Pictures. And I think that’s the idea. That if you play it straight, it's much funnier when something goes off the rails.
And my favorite thing about its look is that once a kid is in on that joy of the comedy, it’s kind of branding books without pictures as funny, crazy, who-knows what could happen types of experiences. So once a kid associates plain black text on a white page with 'Who knows what could happen?' That’s a very very good message for reading in general.
On donating 10,000 books
When kids have a book that feels brand new, it feels like a toy. It’s shiny, it’s theirs. I think it competes on a whole other level with the other distractions in their lives. And I think if a kid can feel like they own some popular funny fun book as opposed to a video game or a toy or anything else... it really lets books compete. As they should, with sort of the prime spot with a kid's treasure chest.
Atomic Age Covina Bowl to close, preservationsists very concerned
UPDATE 3/3/2017: We learned this week that the Covina Bowl - designed by Gordon Powers, profiled below - is scheduled to close later this month. When I asked the LA Conservancy's director of advocacy, Adrian Scott Fine, to rate how worried he is, he said it's a 10 out of 10. Fine told me the building is eligible for a place on the National Register of Historic Places, but that won't ensure it will survive. The Conservancy is working to find a solution that could allow some development on the property and keep the building from being demolished. Listen to the bonus audio for my whole conversation with Fine. -- John Rabe
Back when bowling was an institution, not just for birthday parties, Gordon Powers' architectural firm crisscrossed the nation building Atomic Age shrines to bowling. And don't call them bowling alleys, Powers says these are bowling centers, often with 40 or more lanes. Now 97 and retired, Powers lives in Garden Grove.
Powers says said bowling really took off with the invention of one machine: the automatic pinspotter. "It changed bowling because, up to that time, the pin boys either were high school kids sometimes, but mostly they were alcoholics." Not so family oriented, he says. "But as soon as they got the automatic pinspotter, all of that changed because you could bowl at any time of day or night and you didn't need any of these other people. So, bowling took off from there."
Powers, an Oregon Native, didn't get work as an architect until he was 32. Before that he was flying planes for the military. The firm he co-founded had a special connection to American Machine and Foundry -- better known as AMF -- one of the biggest names in bowling. Soon, Powers and his firm designed structures in Pennsylvania, Arizona and here in Southern California. And these aren't drab buildings in shopping parks: A-frames tower overhead, sparkling atom road signs light up the way, and Jetsons-esque marquees beckon families to spend their Friday nights inside.
At the Covina Bowl, you can see why some preservationists call it Powers' masterwork. There's the ancient ruin geometric cement work at the entrance, the sharp pointed roofline, the colorful glasswork in the Pyramid Room restaurant. The place has kept the diehard, early afternoon bowlers coming back for decades.
In the Fifties, Powers and his firm even worked with a group of investors lead by Walt Disney to build a huge bowling complex in Denver. The investors held all of their planning meetings at Chasen's in Beverly Hills and Powers was delighted that he was invited.
"All the great people were in this: Jack Benny and Bing Crosby and John Payne, a bunch of them. We built an 80-lane (center) and a full-sized Olympic swimming pool, under glass, in Denver. Walt wanted to put a wave machine in, but we couldn't figure out how to do it without it slopping over," Powers says.
Although Powers says he has never considered himself an avid bowler, he did pick up the pastime when he was younger. He figured it was required if he was going to be building so many bowling centers. In fact, Powers and his firm -- Powers, Daly and DeRosa -- built so many bowling centers that today it's difficult for Powers to keep tabs on them all.
These days Powers spends a lot of his time training Labradors. But at his home, there are still some reminders of his earlier life, when he was king of the bowling center. Like a 1958 issue of Life magazine with a full spread featuring Powers' Futurama and Willow Grove bowling centers.
From old school Spanx to Hawaiian shirts, 300 years of men's fashion at LACMA
Here are a few things I learned at LACMA's new show Reigning Men: Fashion in Menswear, 1715–2015.
1. Men have been as vain as woman, witness two rare pieces: An old pair of long underwear with a corset like apparatus to give men the same hourglass shape cultivated by women and a set of stockings with lambswool implants designed to give men in tights the sexy calf muscles that proclaimed their masculinity.
2. Gregory Peck loved him some bespoke Saville Row suits. Reigning Men includes one of the 160 ensembles he ordered from H. Huntsman and Sons.
3. In Victorian England, men might relax by smoking a cigarette while dressed like a clown. Check the photos! The silk smoking jackets and suit on display are over-the-top.
4. It's harder to make up a male mannequin than a woman. It's not the clothes so much as the accessories: Canes, tie pins, hats, cuff links, handkerchiefs, etc. all have to be right. For the women, it's a dress and shoes.
For much more, listen to my interview with Sharon Takeda, senior curator and head of LACMA's Costume and Textiles Department, and Clarissa Esguerra, assistant curator of costume and textiles.
Guitar God Albert Lee headlines Malibu Guitar Fest
Next weekend (April 28-May 1) is the second annual Malibu Guitar Festival, featuring Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Robert Randolph, The Empty Hearts, Cody Simpson, and more.
One of the headliners is 72-year old Albert Lee, a British born Malibu resident who has played with or around pretty much everybody, like Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, the Everly Brothers, Emmylou Harris, The Crickets, Bill Wyman, and many more too numerous to mention.
For Off-Ramp, we're excerpting a long conversation Lee had with Cow Bop bandleader and guitarist Bruce Forman for the GuitarWank podcast.
Veteran journalist on working in newspapers: 'I'm dyin' here'
Marc Haefele reviews “I’m Dyin' Here: A Life in the Paper,” by Long Beach Press-Telegram columnist Tim Grobaty.
I am a journalist. Specifically, a newspaper columnist. And it’s not a theory that all newspapers will die. It’s a law. It can’t not happen. I’m at the stage of a long career where my job is going to be changing in many ways. All of them bad. We don’t buy ink by the barrel these days. We pick up a half-gallon on the way to work. So, yeah, as a print journalist? Dead as a bobbin boy, dead as a scrivener, dead as a whorehouse pianna-player—so many occupations that once sustained this glorious world. — Tim Grobaty, "I'm Dying Here"
Hard though it is to believe, it’s 40 years since American newspapers reached their apex of national importance. The papers, with a boost from TV news, had recently succeeded in running a second-term president out of office, getting the nation out of a bad war, electing a new, mostly progressive Congress, and helping to spark the environmental movement. Newspapers were making history, and not just its first draft.
Even more importantly, print journalism seemed not only thrilling and important, but a viable profession, one of very few in the decade that gave us stagflation and a president who told us to trim our aspirations. Newspapers were actually hiring people to write for them. And that’s what happened to people like Long Beach Press-Telegram columnist Tim Grobaty and myself. We bought into a luminous journalistic future that turned out, in fact, not to be there. Had we thought it through, we might have noticed the storm warnings. For instance, two-thirds of New York’s daily papers had perished just in the preceding decade.
Then again, even foreknowledge might not have stopped us. We weren’t in the business to get rich. We were there for the sake of what one veteran once called “A ringside seat on life.” There were people to talk to, stories to write, news to report in the eternal present of the Deadline Day. Our personal foresight was blurred: I remember an early-1980s after-work bar-room discussion at which all those present agreed that, with just a $500-a-month apartment and a $500-a week wire service job, we’d be happily fixed for life.
Grobaty had more sense. He's stuck it out at the P-T for the 40 years that saw his newspaper shed most of its employees and move from its landmark downtown edifice to a former discount shoe store. He managed to marry the right woman, buy a house and raise a family (unlike nearly all of my journalistic contemporaries). He’s also fortunate to "be the only writer on a newspaper who is allowed, encouraged even, to bloviate on any topic at hand."
Now, he says in his early 60s, he "is engaged in a race to the grave with the newspaper itself … The paper is losing a subscriber with the death of every elderly reader in town, and young people aren’t standing in line waiting to inherit that subscription.’’
Grobaty, I feel, must have a special relationship with the people who own his newspaper (Digital First Media) to get away with saying things like that. But he is a Long Beach institution who has declined to move elsewhere because, according to him, he likes it there, and also because, according to him, he is too lazy to move.
He can also be funny, as when he is listing the reasons why he is going to vote for Mitt Romney. Here's one: “We got hit really hard on the head with a snow shovel.”
He can be affectingly somber, as in his piece on 9-11, and the one memorializing the last surviving soldier of World War I.
He can share his amusement with the general shenanigans of an otherwise totally forgotten earthshaking event like Pat Buchanan’s national Reform Party Convention at the local Convention Center.
He can impersonate innocence as a stand-in reporter among the media wolf pack at the OJ trial.
Now and then, without being altogether intrusive, he lightheartedly shares with us what must have been a remarkably miserable childhood.
He loves dogs.
He is always worth reading.
He can even make you think it might be fun to live in Long Beach. You do hope he survives his memoir-collection’s title “I’m Dyin’ Here.” I would, on his behalf, also hope that his pension or 401k or whatever retirement emolument his skinflint employers offer him might survive, too.
(This article has been edited to correct the name of the current owner of the Long Beach Press-Telegram.)
Song of the week: 'If I Was Your Girlfriend' by Prince
I fell in love with the Prince song "If I Was Your Girlfriend" when I heard a DJ play it at an outdoor arts festival for about a dozen of us who were drawn to its sound. As I watched a few festivalgoers dancing by themselves to the music, it was one of those moments that makes you really listen to what a song is about for the first time.
The song asks how much more open Prince and his partner could be if they were friends, not lovers. It opens a door into the most intimate places in a relationship, exploring the every day moments that don't get shared between two people who otherwise care about each other — getting dressed. Washing your hair. Saying when you've been hurt.
The song pitches up Prince's vocals to create a more feminine persona, sonically pushing the boundaries of sexuality. It was Prince being completely playful and completely genuine at the same time. He had a mastery over the music that let him expand your mind just by listening to your stereo, while also putting ideas into your head that stayed with you from then on.
Like so many Prince songs, it's about Prince wanting to completely experience life — and helping us to do that too.
Watch and listen to a live version of the song (without the pitched up vocals) below: