RIP Sid Caesar - an exclusive interview; Henry Rollins gets the Ray Bradbury Creativity Award; a Cambodian waitress is becoming a car mechanic; just Kickstart me.
New owners see light; Rufus the carrot-eating pacu to stay at former Bahooka
If you've been following the story of Rufus the pacu and the efforts to find him a new home, then you'll want to know about a major update Monday.
But first, to bring you up to speed ... Rufus is a 37-year old pacu, a relative of the piranha, except instead of eating people, he ate carrots in his tank at Bahooka, the tiki restaurant in Rosemead. He was the restaurant's mascot, a sentimental favorite.
When the restaurant closed last March, his fans were worried. Where would he go? Where could he go? It's not like you can just truck around a fish that old, who has never been out of his tank. But the new owners of Bahooka, who wanted to turn it into a Chinese restaurant, wanted Rufus out, and this weekend, we reported that it was 95 percent sure that Rufus would be moved to Damon's, the venerable tiki-themed restaurant in Glendale, through the hard work and fundraising of HiddenLA.
But yesterday, HiddenLA's Lynn Garrett posted a melancholy note on Facebook:
Hey guys. So, I'm sitting here at Damon's, drinking a sad mai tai. It's sad because we had a meeting with the people leasing Bahooka today, and although a week ago they wanted Rufus The Fish out in a week, the press attention changed their minds. Rufus is safe and will stay in the same place, and we're trying to focus on that.
So, instead of undergoing the rigors of moving, which could well kill him, Rufus will once again be the center of attention. As reported in the LA Times:
Charles Ye, a spokesman for the owners, said they decided to keep Rufus to help decorate the restaurant. They also feared moving him would be harmful to his health. "He's 37 years old already," Ye said. "We want to take care of him."
The owners are reportedly fundraising to build Rufus a huge new tank, and bring in a few more pacu to keep him company. But meantime, Garrett says she's not abandoning the idea of bringing him to Glendale, just shelving it.
If they change their mind again when the dust settles, we will still be very happy to buy Rufus. We will still be happy to pick up the phone and arrange his move. Also, we ADORE Damon's in Glendale and hope you will support their business for going through all of this brouhaha over a carrot-eating fish. If the opportunity arises, Rufus has a home there.
If you donated to HiddenLA to help with the move, Garrett says they're trying to figure out how to handle the money that came in.
Let's close with a toast to Rufus, possibly the world's most popular piranha.
(LA Magazine's Chris Nichols, at Bahooka before it closed in March of 2013. Credit: John Rabe)
Henry Rollins: Punk icon talks Black Flag's early days, 'uncool' music and Ray Bradbury
Henry Rollins is an actor, writer, singer, a DJ on KCRW and one of the most interesting people in Los Angeles today. He's appeared in movies, hosted TV series, fronted Black Flag — the pioneering South Bay punk band — and he's travelled to dozens of countries.
Woodbury University, a private college in Burbank, recognized all that work, giving Rollins the Ray Bradbury Creativity Award this past weekend.
Off-Ramp Producer Kevin Ferguson had an opportunity to meet him at his home in Hollywood to talk about what made Rollins who he is today.
On Ray Bradbury, the Creativity Award's namesake:
"I read a bit of Ray Bradbury when I was a younger man. I don't read a lot of fiction anymore... like none. But I read quite a few of his short stories, and I was trying to remember a while ago where I found those stories. And it was either a friend of my mother's who gave it to me the book — cause that happened quite a bit. Or I probably intersected with the book via Ian MacKaye, my best friend.
"Also, in the '80s, there was some California radio station that would air Ray Bradbury short stories, either read out loud, or slightly dramatized as they do. And our old sound man would just whack those shows onto the cassettes. And we would have these epic drives.
"He was scary prolific. Just cranked it out. And won several awards, and all of that, which doesn't mean that much to me as far as awards... but the fact that he remained relevant at his craft all the way to the end... Anyone who tries anything artistically or creatively: Wouldn't you like that to be your fate? To be at some wheezing, ancient age and someone still cares about what you do? You know, I've been in the creative world, kind of singing and dancing for my dinner since I was a late teenager. And I'm 53 now. To still be able to do shows and be able to go into artistic endeavors is a big deal for me."
On growing up around the Washington, DC punk scene:
"We were very young, and so there was a lot unknowns. When you go to your first rock concerts and you're actually standing near the stage. Which is very different than going to see Aerosmith — which was cool — but it was like a mile and a half from the stage. It was all the way at the other end of the hockey arena. And it is what it is. It's all reverb and backslap. It's kind of the aural equivalent of the last inch of a bottle of coke. Lot of saliva, it's not great!
"And then you get to go up close, and put your elbows on the stage, and have Dee Dee Ramone sweat on you. That visceral relationship that you have with music when you're that close to it — that's what those days were like for me. And all of your cool pals from high school and in the neighborhood, they're all in bands! Like Ian Mackaye. I was at the first Minor Threat show and you could tell; this band is going to be the king of the town. It was obvious. They were so good."
On setting down roots in L.A.'s South Bay with Black Flag:
"Wherever we played in California, we were always in the tough part of town with a rough audience. And the audience was one thing, the people hanging out in the parking lot were another. And then the local cops were another thing altogether. So my version of California for the first five years I lived here — I was kind of stricken. It was kind of terrifying! Although I lived in Hermosa and Redondo Beach for a good bit of the time that I first moved here. That's where Black Flag came from. And that was really nice.
"For Black Flag, it was never a community. We weren't very friendly people. And between tours, we would just write songs. And have band practice — which consisted of doing the set two times a night. And we did that Monday through Friday. And so we didn't really hang out with many people."
On culture clash in their Long Beach neighborhood:
"For a while we had a practice place in Long Beach, because it was cheap. And we were kind of right in the middle of the nexus where two different gangs met. And the locals come in, but the gang guys — they just walk in because you're in their neighborhood. If you're smart, you don't go 'And you are?' You go 'Oh hey, cool, right?' Because they're armed. It was in our best interest to make friends with everybody.
"We did a big show once at the Santa Monica Civic. We rented a bus, brought it down to that neighborhood, and loaded in anyone from the neighborhood who wanted to go to the show. And that was one of the most fascinating bits of culture clash. Because, when you tell some people you're going to a show, the lipstick and outfits come out, and the hair goes up, and everyone is dressed to kill! And you basically have them with 3,500 rabid people at the Santa Monica Civic. These are people who might not have seen that, at this point, very ritualized crowd behavior.
"Some of the girls were terrified. Some of the guys were a pit bull dropped into a fighting pit or something — they went nuts! These are guys having their minds blown. Bells are going off. And you see how divided we really are in California. A lot of them were not into it."
On listening to "uncool" music again:
"I was raised by Mom. She had a lot of books and a lot of records. We'd go to the record store up to two night a week, and so, as a little kid growing up: Brahms, Beethoven, Chopin, Wagner, Barbra Streisand, Bob Dylan, Arlo Guthrie. I was a pretty eclectic little kid. And then in your teenage years, you start kind of demarcating your own territory. That was Led Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, Van Halen, Aerosmith.
"Then I saw The Clash one night. February 18, 1979 I think it was. I went back to my room and I took a lot of my records, Steve Miller, Aerosmith, all these records, and I threw them out. I said, 'These just don't matter anymore.' Which was such a stupid, young man, thing to do. Very reactionary. And I just sheepishly, when I could afford them years later, I bought them all back again. Because those are really good records."
Yeah, Dumb Starbucks. But what does it mean?
Who knows why Nathan Fielder fronted the Dumb Starbucks that popped up in Los Feliz last weekend, drew huge lines, and gave away coffee until the LA County Department of Public Health shut it down.
I'm sure we'll find out how it plays into Fielder's Comedy Central tv show very soon. And perhaps Off-Ramp producer Kevin Ferguson will make the cut, if there's video of him bothering the baristas last weekend for their owner's info.
But meantime, there's another - more interesting - question. Why were people so intrigued, I mean beyond the free coffee and a souvenir cup? Listen to the audio for our answers, and please leave your own below in the comments.
We do come to praise Caesar - a television pioneer and genius
It certainly helped that he had Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, and Woody Allen in the writers room; and Imogene Coca and Carl Reiner on stage with him. But still, to do an hour-and-a-half of live television for 39 weeks a year, to carry the whole show? This is what Sid Caesar did in the 1950s.
Caesar died Wednesday at the age of 91. This is part of an interview I did with him in 2000 at his home in Beverly Hills, which was never broadcast. In it, he wants to make clear that live television was hard, and gave the audience much more than today's shows.
Aspiring auto mechanic Kien Thay's dream job is not just for guys
Kien Thay loves cars. She says she's most at home when she's working on a car.
At 31, Kien makes a living as a waitress. She spends her time off scouring junkyards and eBay listings to find any car part she can fix and turn a profit on. With her friends and family, she's the person to go to when their cars act up.
Kien remembers telling her dad she wanted to work on cars full-time. Her dad said he was proud of her, but he felt sorry for her, too. Being a mechanic is "such a guy's job," he told her.
But don't expect Kien to linger on her struggles, on the difficulties of being a woman in a role where many expect to see a guy. Kien knows the automotive world is still male-dominated, and she admits that she gets the occasional surprised look when she tells someone what she wants to do. But Kien says she doesn't have the time for all that. Her perspective changed with the first death of a close friend she had experienced. Her friend had always encouraged her to pursue her love of cars, but the advice never stuck. "It's a very sad moment," Kien says. "But after he passed away, that's when I thought, let's make this move, let's make this change. I feel like it's now or never."
Today, Kien hasn't lost focus. She's top of her shop classes and applying for scholarships so she can continue her studies. To Kien, the car world doesn't have to be just a man's game. According to her, many people expect to see only guys working on cars for a lot of outdated reasons. "I think it's the labor," Kien says. "You're required to carry at least 50 pounds of weight. It has a lot to do with strength."
But for Kien, the whole strength thing just doesn't make any sense. "If this is such a guy's job, are they torquing the nuts with their hands?" she asks. "The same amount of work they can do with this tool is the same amount of work I can do with this tool. So if this is such a guy's job, they are more than welcome to torque it with their hands if they wanted to."
Kien sees the auto industry changing, and she's happy she's not the only woman in her shop classes. "I'm actually progressing with a group of five women that I see consistently," Kien says. "So, to see them move forward, it gives me the confidence, knowing that I can do this just as well as anybody can."
Kien's only regret is not having started earlier. "I think that I would have found my path sooner," she says.