LA City Archivist looks into our water history; A Martinez on the new Lakers season; Tim Robbins brings "Midsummer Night's Dream" back from China; the bizarre waving mannequins of North Hollywood.
A Martinez on fitting Byron Scott into the Lakers puzzle
Off-Ramp host John Rabe talks with A Martinez, co-host of Take Two and host of LakersLine on ESPNLA 710, about Byron Scott, the Lakers' new head coach.
Martinez says Scott, one of the team's greats and a Showtime Laker, is also a great coach, but coaching the Lakers will be a unique challenge for him.
RELATED: Your sports tax bill tops $300, whether you watch it or not
The mysterious mannequins of North Hollywood Toyota
Off-Ramp contributor Collin Friesen looks into the backstory of the mannequins that greet you from the parking garage for a NoHo Toyota dealership.
In Los Angeles, there are landmarks and then there are… well, those things that just make you say “huh?”
One that falls into the latter category is in North Hollywood, just when the 134 turns into the 101. On your right, lining the rails of the four-story Toyota dealership, frozen in place, looking blankly towards Griffith Park. Male and female, a few kids. Their arms raised in what I’ve always assumed is some kind of automotive-related salute.
Two dozen in all, frozen in time like a plastic Pompei. These are the mannequins of North Hollywood Toyota.
They’re fun to drive by occasionally, but Sara Logan is the receptionist at DDO Artists Agency, a neighbor of the dealership, and for her, they’re practically in the next cubicle.
“The arms will move when the wind picks up, especially at night," she said. "Someone looks out and someone’s arms are moving, it’s a little creepy.”
SPEAKING OF CREEPY: Why cereal box characters make eye contact with your kid
“I’ve come out here late at night and been startled," said Noel Graham, North Hollywood Toyota’s Internet director, "but I can assure you, none of our mannequins has caused any harm.”
He's also the dealership's mannequin history expert.
“Chris Ashworth is our owner and GM, he’s British and has a very interesting sense of humor, and at some point we had a vehicle on a ramp with its nose in the air, and he thought it would be fun to put a body in there waving at people, so he put a body in there,” said Graham.
So how did that lead to all of this? I ask.
“Addiction is a very serious thing in L.A.," said Graham. "Yeah, it blossomed, when he went to buy the first mannequin he got a group deal so next thing we had a whole family.”
I have to admit, I was kind of hoping there was something more nefarious or sales-oriented to the mannequins. Like the dealership wanted drivers to think there were just a ton of people buying cars that day and so they’d want to check it out. Think Don Draper pitching the client… “Mannequins, they bring us home, they are home.”
But the dealership says these “people of plastic descent” do help the bottom line. You may not know the name of the dealership, but you know it’s the one with the mannequins.
The cops know them, too, says Noel Graham: “At one point we got fined, one of our pranksters thought it would be funny to have a man hanging from the railing by the Freeway… it was a joke that went bad when people thought it was a real person. We paid a fine and have kept them in line ever since.”
As I walked among the mannequins, I could see how the constant exposure has taken its toll. Some paint is a little chipped, a wig not hanging right. But they do get a change of clothing every few months, with outfits donated by staff members. A few have been replaced over the years, and yes, sometimes a mannequin, or a just a body part, will go missing.
It puts me in mind of the last line of the poem "Mannequins of 7th Street" by Tamar Yoseloff:
We, merely flesh, race past, hail cabs, jump buses, never to strike their timeless pose.
They keep watch from their temple of glass, stranded in silence, all dressed up and nowhere to go.
Soboroff adds Truman Capote typewriter to collection
Off-Ramp host John Rabe speaks with Steve Soboroff about the latest typewriter in his collection: the Smith-Corona Truman Capote used to write his last three novels.
"What the typewriter symbolizes now is timelessness, and also a slower, more thoughtful way of life. What is made these days that will be used 60, 70, 80, 100 years from now? I don't think there's anything, and these typewriters have hundreds of years to go." — Steve Soboroff on KPCC's Off-Ramp in 2012.
I asked Steve Soboroff if he ever wakes up and thinks to himself how weird it is that he's been collection historic typewriters for the last 11 years. "No," he says. "I wish I had started a lot earlier!"
Soboroff is the businessman and current head of the L.A. Police Commission, who collects only historically significant typewriters. He adds a few each year, and now has machines owned by Julie Andrews, Ernest Hemingway, John Lennon, Joe DiMaggio, the Unabomber, Jack Kevorkian, and Andy Rooney ... and recently, EM Forster's.
Soboroff brings them to charity events, where people have now paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to type on them. They money goes for journalism scholarships.
LISTEN as John tours Soboroff's collection and uses the fabled Andy Rooney typewriter
From the beginning, he's lusted after Truman Capote's typewriter. A particular typewriter. Capote befriended Joanne Carson (Johnny Carson's widow) in the early 1970s, "to the point where he, when he was in Los Angeles, had a little writing room and bedroom in her home." It's where he wrote his final three books, "Answered Prayers," "A Dog’s Bark," and "Music for Chameleons," and this is machine he used to write them.
Soboroff says he tried to buy the typewriter a few years ago, but Carson refused. But then, on a whim, he wrote her a week or so ago, and after a few emails, she invited him to her home. There was the typewriter ... with a red bow on it.
(Joanne Carson with Truman Capote's typewriter and dictionary. Credit: Steve Soboroff)
"She took me into his writing room," Soboroff says, "and nothing has been changed. And the bedroom where he passed away. And she started telling me these stories, and I could have sat there for six hours; it was just UN-believeable. His bible was there. His dictionary's there, and photographs. When I talk about feeling with these typewriters, instead of intellectualizing, this is as close as I've been."
Tim Robbins puts passion first with Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'
Tim Robbins is best known to most people as an actor, and specifically for his work in movies like “Mystic River,” “Bull Durham,” “The Player,” “The Shawshank Redemption” and “Dead Man Walking,” which he also directed.
The 55-year-old additionally has starred in and directed several television series and miniseries, including “The Spoils of Babylon,” “Treme” and “Portlandia.” He’s also active in some liberal political causes.
But if you ask Robbins what his real passion is, he won’t hesitate to tell you it's theater.
Robbins started acting on the stage as soon as he graduated from UCLA’s theater department; he and some of his college classmates promptly formed in 1981 an ensemble that became The Actors’ Gang.
The Actors' Gang has produced more than 100 plays in Los Angeles and in 40 states and in five continents. It recently returned from China and Italy, where the ensemble’s minimalist production of William Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which Robbins directed, was shown.
The Actors' Gang alumni includes some of Hollywood’s more celebrated actors, including Jack Black, John Cusack, John C. Reilly, Helen Hunt, Jeremy Piven, Jon Favreau and Kate Mulligan.
Robbins, whose company is now presenting “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” out of its Culver City home, says that he is continually drawn to the theater because of its immediacy, the direct connection between performer and spectator.
"It's something you can't get in film. It's becoming more and more relevant, in my opinion, because the delivery system for entertainment has been reduced. In music it's now down to a little piece of metal that you can fit in your pocket. In movies, you can watch them on your iPhone. So what I've come to realize is, if it's that accessible, it means you have complete control over it."
In other words, you as an audience member are not engaged. You are checking your emails while you watch a movie on your home theater set-up. You are texting while you are listening to a new CD. Or you are chatting away as a band tries to get your attention inside some small music club.
But you can't do that inside a live theater space:
"Theater, is the only experience where you sit still in a theater without your phone — and we make sure that happens. In China they had lasers...here you have a form of art that you can still ask an audience to be with you in a room, together, and it's never gonna be the same audience twice and you can ask them to experience something with you and share with you for two hours, uninterrupted. When you can tell that story, you can affect people in a much more profound and personal way."
Robbins furthermore says that like music, there’s a universality to theater that is distinct and powerful. He saw this first-hand when “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” was performed in China to an audience that spoke limited English and has little familiarity with Shakespeare and his plays.
"It was weird because usually when we do shows overseas, it's like supertitles above the stage. In China, it was on either side of the stage, so people were looking to the side and then to the stage and I was watching the audience and it was really great because around the middle of the show they just stopped looking at the translations and just gave over to the show and then that's when the laughter really started becoming more hearty."
Artists & fans raising money for Stan Sakai, creator of iconic rabbit samurai Usagi Yojimbo
Since 1984, Pasadena artist Stan Sakai has been drawing "Usagi Yojimbo," a comic book about the adventures of a rabbit samurai. His work has drawn countless awards, international acclaim and sales, and even this Off-Ramp audio profile by Charles Solomon.
But Sakai is still an independent artist and is now faced with paying medical bills for his wife Sharon, who has a brain tumor.
The good news is he's not alone in the fight: his colleagues from the worlds of comics and animation have been raising money, including the release of "The Sakai Project" by Dark Horse, with dozens of artists contributing their take on the rabbit hero.
All proceeds from the sales go to the Sakai's, and it was so popular at Comic Con that it sold out ... twice!
There are two events in LA where you can buy the book and get it signed by many of the artists it features, and help Stan and Sharon.
- Saturday, August 2, at the Frank & Son Collectible Show in City of Industry, from 10:30am - 5pm. Some artists who'll be there: Jeff Keane (Family Circus), Ricardo Delgado, Rubèn Procopio, Steven E. Gordon, Wil Panganiban, Mark Dos Santos, Brad Rader, Mike Kunkel, Jonathan Marks, Stephen Silver, Stan Sakai, Scott Shaw!, Tone Rodriguez, Aidan Casserly, Benton Jew, Anson Jew, Chad Frye.
- Saturday, August 16, Meltdown Comics on Sunset Blvd, time and artists TBA.
Grant Morrison explores 52 different universes in 'Multiversity,' from Nazi Superman to our world
Comic book writer Grant Morrison, who splits his time between his native Scotland and Los Angeles, has been writing comics for 30 years. His work includes some of the most influential works in comics history — from "Animal Man" to "All-Star Superman" and beyond. His new project, "The Multiversity," has been in the works for almost a decade and explores big idea metacommentary on the DC Comics universe and our own world.
"I've been working on this thing for eight years, so for me it feels like a child almost. I'm so glad to see it's finally delivered. Basically, we're finally defining the 52 universes of DC's multiverse," Morrison told KPCC.
This labor of love lets Morrison look at alternate versions of the iconic characters fans have known. He said that he would start with a sketchpad and start redefining an existing character for a certain world.
"One of my favorite things is just sitting down and making up worlds, and especially if you're doing things that are basically bouncing off the DC universe, the material's all there," Morrison said. "It's just, what's a Nazi Batman like? And rather than just going for the obvious, you start thinking that through, and what kind of world, and where would he have been brought up, and why would he have certain attitudes."
Morrison's been known throughout his career for pushing the boundaries of comics, often breaking the fourth wall. One of his first iconic stories in "Animal Man" featured a Looney Tunes-inspired moment where the hand of the artist could be seen and the main character had a conversation with Morrison himself. He's continuing that in "Multiversity" with one of the issues looking at Earth-Prime, the DC Comics version of our own real world Earth.
"There are combinations of certain things I've always been doing. One of my great missions is to dissolve the boundary between the reader and the comic, and this I think does it more effectively than anything else. I think in this one, the reader is really on the front line. You do actually have to fight a monster as the reader. It gets quite scary in issue 7."
Still, Morrison doesn't want to let that sort of storytelling be all that defines him.
"There's those meta elements that I'm pretty well known for," Morrison says, but now he wants to reach different audiences with each book. "So rather than, for the people who are sick of Grant Morrison metaphysical metanarrative stories, there's also really just simple, something like Thunderworld, which is an all ages Captain Marvel, Marvel Family story."
One of the other genres Morrison is set to explore in these books is political thriller in "Pax Americana," riffing on "Watchmen" and using similar storytelling techniques as the comic book, but with the characters that originally inspired "Watchmen" before being changed for that series. He's also writing books tackling pulp, celebrity culture, alternate history and other edges of the DC multiverse.
"Even if people don't like what I've been doing all these years, there's six books where there's none of that and there's just stories."
Morrison said that it's important to him that his work has an impact in our world.
"One of my proudest things is that the Superman scene that we did in 'All-Star Superman,' where he saves the young goth kid from suicide, has actually saved real people's lives in the real world. And to me, if I do nothing else in my life, I've saved some kid's life by writing that scene."
Morrison says that shows the power of comic books and of Superman.
"That shows that Superman doesn't have to be real in order to do good things, and that kind of justifies my take on these characters, in that they don't have to be real, but they can still inspire us. They can still represent that part of us that rises above ourselves. And I think that's the value of superhero characters in comics: They can actually help real people get through life."
Morrison said that he's excited about writing different versions of these characters, arguing that you to understand a character like Batman, you have to see him from multiple angles. But he did admit that a different take doesn't always work, noting that his attempt to write an anti-corporate Superman in "Action Comics" didn't have the impact he was looking for.
"Once I tried that, I really began to believe that Superman works best as a purely symbolic figure, and any attempt to actually have him beating up corporate heads and things, it's not really achieving much in the real world," Morrison said. "So for me, the bigger Superman adventures get, the more effective they are. But I think there was a strand in there that was worth pursuing, but someone else should try it — some little Occupy kid should write Superman."
While the angle may be tilted, some elements of the characters can stay the same throughout universes, Morrison says.
"What holds true [for Superman] is indomitable will," Morrison said. "We've got a universe where the Nazis won the war. But rather than make that a simplistic idea, where it's just here's evil Nazi Superman with his red eyes glaring, we though, well OK, they won the war, but 70-odd years have past, and suddenly the world's fine."
Morrison said that, even in that context, Superman will still be Superman.
"Superman knows that it's built on the bones of million, and because Superman's a good man, the guilt starts to destroy him. So we can see a different kind of Superman. He's still the same, powerful man, but once something like that gets under his skin, it can dismantle his entire belief structure. So we wanted to do that one, to take quite a subtle approach to a Nazi Superman."
The Multiversity books came out of taking known characters and putting them into a new context.
"Every one of them was worked out to be a slightly different, here's what would happen if you put Superman in this terrible situation, here's what would happen to Superman who's never been in a terrible situation. You know, here's a guy who's never had to fight in his life. What does he do when trouble comes calling?"
Morrison hopes that these characters could live on past "Multiversity" and continue to inform the stories DC Comics tells. He laid out some of the complexities he's trying to set up in a large map of the DC multiverse (click here to see the full-size version of the Multiversity map) and has spent years thinking through what these worlds are all about.
"I want them all to be characters that they're not just one note, they're not just some dumb thing that comes in for a fight and then dies. I want all of these characters to be able to sustain their own series, and sustain their own books, and sustain their own universes."
While Morrison loves DC Comics, he expressed mixed feelings about the "New 52" reboot, which wiped many of the previous stories DC had published out of continuity.
"For me, it was kind of weird to see a lot of the history disappear, but then it's exciting a new generation of writers coming up and putting their own ideas in and creating a new version of all that."
Morrison grew up with DC Comics, and it's still the universe he has the most affinity for. It's one he plans on sticking with and it's the one that's defined his career — despite doing some work for Marvel, notably on the X-Men.
"I think when you're a kid, if you get into one thing or the other, you're either a Marvel kid or a DC kid, no matter what you think later. So for me it was always DC that pressed the button, and it's why I keep going back there, and I kind of find it endlessly fascinating."
"Multiversity" hits comic book shops this month.
A map of the DC multiverse, designed by Grant Morrison (click here to see a full-size version):
LA's storytelling renaissance: 11 local shows contributing to a new golden age
A while ago I did a piece for Off Ramp about the storytelling venues around town and the enthusiasm I felt about the burgeoning storytelling community. Since then my enthusiasm has been rewarded with a plethora of new storytelling programs on radio shows, podcasts, and a number of stages around town.
You're welcome.
When I first put up my own show, "Dylan Brody’s Thinking Allowed" at The Improv seven years ago, it was a hard sell, convincing a comedy club that storytelling could work for audiences accustomed to the four-laughs-per-minute ratio demanded of stand-up comics for TV. But now there are also regular storytelling events at the Comedy Store, The Laugh Factory, IO West, and the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre — whose show Assssscat melds improvisational storytelling and structured, spontaneous sketch work.
(Note: Some of the language in the videos might be language you'd find in comedy clubs and storytelling venues.)
WATCH: Upright Citizens Brigade's ASSSSCAT
One of the most gratifying developments is the extent to which Hollywood has embraced an art form that still struggles to find its way into the profit-making mainstream. Small shows open up in coffee houses, theaters and bars. Some of them are curated. Some of them have the loose, bring-what-you’ve-got feel of the New York open mic comedy nights I remember from the early 80s. Some showcase successful writers from TV and film finding their footing as spoken-word performers. Others include poets and spoken-word performers trying out new material.
If you want polished readings of honed works, I suggest Wendy Hammers’ always-sold-out "Tasty Words Show" or the free "Sit-n-Spin" that’s been running for years at the Comedy Central Stage down at the Hudson Theater. Here’s Annie Girard at "Sit-n-Spin":
WATCH: Annie Girard at Sit'n'Spin
If you want to see a potluck of performers at all the stages of development, come to Muse on 8th on a Saturday night to see Alex Stein’s "Literary Salon." It’s a low-pressure zone where I beta test new stories, but I mostly go just to hear whatever new piece Alex has prepared for the evening.
Plus, "Literary Salon" has vegan chili that you can enjoy even if you usually mock vegans and the food they eat. Along the same spectrum, there’s Beverly Mickens’ "Story Salon" in an art gallery — where an aloof cat may rub against your legs as you watch the show and attack you if you try to pet him — and the "Pez Show" at the Actors Comedy Studio, where I saw Alyssa Vaughan do this bit.
WATCH: Alyssa Vaughan at the PEZ show
When I started in comedy at the start of the boom, I saw hundreds of comics just finding their voices as they moved toward stardom. The storytelling scene has that feel now.
This is a golden age. The rules aren’t set yet. Yes, storytelling has started to reach public radio with "Unfictional," "The Moth", and "Snap Judgment." But it hasn’t been ruined yet by money. There are no executives dictating the structure, the length or the content of the stories.
Come out into the night. See what happens as performers reach into the gaping wounds of their memories and draw out glistening gems to hold up in the light. Sometimes it’s magical, but it’s always visceral and human.
Here are some of the venues Dylan mentions, and some he doesn't:
- Sit n Spin
- The Moth (LA)
- Tasty Words
- Literary Salon at Muse on 8th
- Story Salon at the Art Parlor
- PEZ The Personal Essay Show at Actors Comedy Studio
- Don’t Tell My Mother embarrassing stories at Fais Dodo
- Asssscat at UCB Theater
- I Love a Good Story (show and podcast)
Podcasts:
Dylan Brody is a commenter for Off-Ramp. Are there any shows he missed? Let us know in the comments!
Drought History: The man who oversaw LA's 'mother ditch' was the mother of all bureaucrats
Michael Holland is the L.A. city archivest, and he digs into the files to show us what life was like in years past. Today, he looks at L.A.'s main water source, the Zanja Madre, or "Mother Ditch," and the water overseer, the zanjero.
The recent discovery in Chinatown of a length of a pipe made from bricks got me thinking about how a typical Angeleno in, let’s say 1872, would have thought about their water and how it was delivered.
The section of pipe uncovered near Capitol Milling belonged to the Zanja Madre or “Mother Ditch,” the main canal that supplied L.A. with water. It really was a ditch back in 1781. They bricked it over about 90 years later.
(C. 1860: A water wheel built in the late 1850s to raise water from the L.A. River into the Zanja Madre or "Mother Ditch." The wheel was destroyed in a flood. Image: L.A. Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Collection)
In charge of the zanja was the zanjero, sometimes known as the Water Overseer in the charter, and he was the mother of all bureaucrats. Had to be, in a city without much water of its own.
Chapter 7 of the 1872 city charter lays out the zanjero’s job. The typical water user would apply to the zanjero for a permit, in advance. You had to apply on the 24th and 25th of each month to buy water for the following month.
The 26th and 27th were days set aside to return to the office, buy your permit, and take it with you. The permit gave you access to water during certain times of specific days. Stop and think about that, as you turn on the tap for a drink.
(Payment for water use, 1878. Image: L.A. City Archive)
Charter section 76 lays it out: “A day’s water shall be from sunrise to sunset and a half-day’s water shall be from sunrise to 12 [noon] and from 12 [noon] to sunset." If you missed the days to pay for and pick up your permit, you were out of luck for that month.
RELATED: What the Natural History Museum can teach us about the drought
This was 1872 — and if you’re thinking these were restrictive measures, in 1855, the zanjero would need to know what was being irrigated, how many acres and the valuation of what you were growing. Irrigation for crops started no later than May 15 and ended after the month of September.
Fast forward to the 21st century — could you go from October to May without watering your lawn? Oh, I forgot to mention that you could irrigate once a week and no more, and that in the 1870s, a privately-owned decorative fountain was socially unacceptable.
(March 29, 1930: Charles Meyers Jenkins, a former zanjero, is at the far left. The others, L-R, are members of the Historical Society: Emanuel A. Speegle (a pioneer character); Sgt. Juan de la Guerra; J. E. Pleasants; and James H. Dodson. Image: L.A. Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Collection)
The canals crossed many properties and the City Council would approve a new or expanded canal in exchange for increased access to the water in that canal by the landholder. Several days a month were set aside for maintenance of the canals to keep them clean and in good repair.
Property owners had to build fences to keep livestock out of the canal, and if they failed to follow all of the rules, they’d lose access to the water. Stealing water by diverting it from the zanja was a quick way to land in jail for up to 10 days and get a $30 fine.
How important was water to L.A.? The water overseer — still called the zanjero in the 1872 charter – collected $1,200 a year. That's $200 more than the mayor and city marshal.
(A payment to the zanjero in 1877. Image: L.A. City Archive)
But the zanjero’s deputy did the dirty work; it was his job to clear weeds, dead animals and other debris out of the ditch.
The Canal and Reservoir Company was started in L.A. in 1868, and through a series of lease agreements and favorable bond measures, it held onto water rights until the city bought them back in 1902, to be overseen by the Los Angeles Board of Water Commissioners — what we'd now call the LADWP.
(C. 1905: The Board of Water Commissioners. L-R: John J. Fay, J. M. Elliott, Moses H. Sherman, William Mead and Fred L. Baker. Image: L.A. Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Collection)
The water commissioners then hired the Canal and Reservoir Company’s superintendent, a man who’d started as a deputy zanjero in 1877 and worked his way up to the top of his field by the turn of the 20th century. But William Mulholland was only getting started...
Michael Holland's commentary appeared in longer form in the city employee newspaper, “Alive!”
So my son wears a dress; What's it to you?
Actor and writer Seth Menachem turns Off-Ramp commentator to tell us a story about his 2-year old son's preference for girl's clothing.
Most days, my 2-year old son Asher is dressed like Sofia the First, or some Disney princess, or is rocking a multi-colored Ralph Lauren spaghetti strap sundress. On a summer day in L.A., a dress is probably the most practical choice. And frankly, he looks good.
Every morning, my 4-year old daughter, Sydney, drags a chair into her closet and plucks a dress off of the rack. I try to lean her in other directions — “Why don’t we try shorts today?” — but Sydney’s stubborn. And I think she deserves the freedom to choose what she wants to wear.
RELATED: Off-Ramp's interview with Zoey Tur, the former Bob Tur, macho chopper pilot
I usually grab shorts and a T-shirt for Asher because he still has trouble dressing himself. But he has figured out how to undress himself, and pretty often that means he’s ripping off his clothing and screaming “dress” over and over again. He climbs onto the chair in the closet and tugs at one of Sydney’s dresses — “This one.”
(2-year old Asher Menachem. Image courtesy Seth Menachem)
It used to embarrass me when he wore a dress in public. And it wasn’t because I cared about people who thought it was weird that my son was wearing a dress. It was because I cared that they thought I had chosen to put him in a dress. As if there was an agenda on my part to use my son as a way to break societal norms, or as my friend’s mom — a religious Sephardic Jew — said to me, “You wanted another daughter?”
WATCH: Seth was on a conservative talk radio show this week to talk about his commentary
This was at a birthday party for my friend’s daughter and before I left my house I had tried to convince Asher to change into “boy clothes.” I knew that if he showed up in a dress, it would be an endless series of judgments, and I just didn’t feel like dealing with it.
But Asher was stronger than ever that morning. He had a huge tantrum as I tried to force his legs into a pair of shorts. His nose was running into his mouth as he cried and protested and I suddenly realized I was fighting for something I didn’t even believe in. I was making my kid feel badly for something he shouldn’t be ashamed of. And I stopped. And I gave him a hug and I apologized. And then I put back on the purple princess dress with his sister’s sparkly Tom’s shoes.
VIDEO: Seth as a singing businessman in the VW a-ha TV ad
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We went to the party, and, as I figured, some of the Israelis laughed and made comments. One said to me, “Do you think this is funny? There are kids here. You want them to see this?” Another said, “You want him to be gay?”
I stayed calm. And I explained to them the best I could that there is no correlation between kids cross-dressing and being gay. And if he is gay, it’s not because of anything I did. It’s because he’s gay. And maybe it’s a stage. And maybe it’s not. But either way, I don’t want him to ever feel like he wasn’t able to express himself because his parents didn’t support him. And some understood. And some, trapped by religion or ignorance, gave us the stank face.
RELATED: Seth Menachem on Huff Post Live talking about Asher
Plenty of people are supportive. They’ll see my kids — Sydney with her long dirty blonde hair, and Asher with his short dark hair — and say, “I love your daughter’s pixie cut.” When I tell them he’s my son, they smile and say, “I love it.” They also apologize for confusing his gender, but I tell them, “Don’t apologize. He’s in a purple dress with sparkly shoes. How would you know?”
A gay friend saw me with the kids at Jazz at LACMA one Friday night, and said, “Just so you know I didn’t wear any dresses when I was younger,” which is essentially saying, “Don’t worry. Your kid’s not gay like me.” This openly gay, married man was trying to make me feel better about a problem that didn’t exist. If my son is gay, so be it. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’ll be a cross-dresser. Maybe not. I have no control over any of it. All I can do is be supportive.
The saddest thing about the exchange was learning how my friend felt about being gay, as if it were a curse, and not the awesome, endless dude party it really is. Then again, he’s married now. He probably forgot.
RELATED: Matt Duron, OC cop, 'man's man,' and his son wears dresses, too
I get home before my wife most nights, so I was taking the kids out to walk our dog. They were dressing up in different outfits, my daughter treating Asher like her doll, as she tried various dresses, shoes and headbands on him. And then Sydney told me she wanted me to wear a dress, too — “Oh my God, it will be so funny.”
I said, “No,” but she kept begging. I said, “People will laugh at me.” She said, “If they do, I’ll tell them to go away.” And I couldn’t argue with that, as I squeezed myself into Carrie’s most flexible dress. We walked the dog on our block, and the pleasure my kids took in seeing their dad go out of his comfort zone trumped the humiliation I felt.
Carrie pulled up to the house, and I saw her slacked jaw from the end of the street. She laughed. She took a picture. And she told me I better not rip her dress. And then we all went for a pizza.
This commentary originally appeared on xojane.com.
Drought? What drought?
I used my windshield wipers when it rained this week. There can’t be a drought.
There are simply too many things we do on a daily basis that fly in the face of rationing water; water, which we treat like the pigeon of natural resources. Here’s an example. The main indoor use of water for the average house is … toilets. I checked the John in my apartment and every time I flush I’m using one gallon of water. That’s a low-flow toilet--one of the good guys--but I’m still using a milk jugs worth of water every time I answer a call from nature. How could we possibly live in a drought when our quote unquote “most precious resource” is something we literally poop on and then flush down the toilet?
Sure, options like compostable toilets have been around for 30 years, but how sexy does that sound? I mean, we’d have to be in a real bind to use a toilet that uses little to no water. We’d have to be seriously thinking about converting sea water. It’d have to get so bad that people who live in the places where we get our water would be having serious health problems--like chronic asthma--because of the dust. Wait, that’s already happened? I haven’t seen it; I don’t believe it.
(1978, Highland Park. LAPL/Shades of L.A.: Cuban American Community)
Want more proof? A typical lawn uses 10,000 gallons of water a year. 10,000 milk jugs! And if you think we irrigate responsibly – negative. The EPA says half the water we use outdoors is wasted. Half. And what’s not wasted goes to our precious lawns. Lawns need a lot of water, and we need lawns. How else are our front yards going to resemble an 18th century English garden? Just yesterday, my neighbor’s sprinklers were soaking his lawn at high noon, when the water evaporates before it hits the dirt, and guess what? Water came out of my taps this morning.
In fact, I took a two hour shower today because I felt like the one hour shower I took last night needed an encore. And I hosed down my driveway this morning because I just love the regal look of wet cement, just like in car commercials.
I don’t know about you, but the way to fix a problem I can’t see with my own eyes is to wait until I very much can see it, and then panic and say it’s God’s will.
And if we really do use up all the water around us like a trucker sucking down a Big Gulp, we can always move. After all, they say Detroit has more fresh water than any other major U.S. city, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re doing just fine.
In real life, Off-Ramp commentator Taylor Orci uses water wisely.
Fish census starts Aug. 1. Has the giant sea bass made a comeback?
Off-Ramp host John Rabe talks with Off-Ramp commentator and UCSB marine biologist Milton Love about the Giant Sea Bass Census, the first count of the highly endangered fish, and about how fish get their names in the first place.
The giant sea bass is a huge fish, and before it was fished almost to extinction, UC Santa Barbara marine biologist Milton Love says they probably dominated the kelp beds off Southern California. He says the giant sea bass "gets to about 7 feet long, at least 580 pounds. I have some friends who are working on Catalina right now who insist that they saw one that was bigger than 7 feet long, maybe even 9 feet long, which would be an 800-pound fish."
But giant sea bass, which are not related to the Chilean sea bass, have two big flaws: They're easy to catch, and they're delicious.
"Commercial fisherman hit them really hard in the 20s and 30s and 40s, and recreational anglers started hitting them hard, too," Love says. "And by about the 1970s, there was a handful of fish left, and the Fish and Game Department imposed draconian laws" banning almost all taking of giant sea bass.
(L-R: UCSB's Doug McCauley and Milton Love. Image: Sonia Fernandez)
Now, Love says they might be making a comeback, so he and fellow UCSB researcher Douglas McCauley are organizing the first Giant Sea Bass Census, which runs Aug. 1 to 7. Essentially, if you're in the water that week, they're asking you to report back to them via their Facebook page. Report if you see any giant sea bass (and if so, how many), and report if you don't see any, because that's important, too.
Ecstatic diver meets 2 giant sea bass on first Channel Islands dive
"The question is," Love says, "how much are they coming back? Are there a hundred off the coast here? Are there a thousand? Are there 3,000? That makes a big difference because already, there are folks who are saying, 'The sea bass are back; we should be allowed to catch them.' There are people who are pushing for a some kind of quota. That may be fine (or) it may be a stupid idea, but you gotta have some idea of how many fish there are before you make that decision."
Love and I talked at length about the sea bass census, and then chatted about how fish get their names. Love himself named a fish parasite after a girlfriend long ago. Listen to our interview to find out more.
Santa Barbara's shrine to the humble frog
Tuesday, I went up to Santa Barbara to interview marine biologist and Off-Ramp commentator Milton Love about the giant sea bass census he's helping run. Then, he drove us up into the hills above the city to the Riviera Neighborhood, saying he wanted to show me one of his and his wife's favorite spots.
We stopped on Paterna Road and he showed us a wall covered with hundreds of frogs. Not live ones, but plush frogs, calendar frogs, ceramic frogs, wood frogs, metal frogs, thermometer frogs, mask frogs, photo frogs, painted frogs.
RELATED: Which frog was just named the California state amphibian?
In other words, frogs.
A frog wall in Santa Barbara? Who left the first frog? Why did they leave it? So many frogs, so many questions. As the story is told, in 1989 a plastic frog appeared on a residential wall on Paterna Road in the Riviera neighborhood of Santa Barbara. Passersby and neighbors added frogs to the wall. ... It is rumored that one frog with a secret compartment contains a note warning that anyone who removes a frog from the shrine and keeps it more than two days will face certain death. We have yet to find this frog, but maybe you’ll have better luck! -- Relish Santa Barbara's Joslyn Baker
WATCH: John Rabe's video of the Santa Barbara frog shrine
Needless to say, we didn't take a single frog, and we're still alive ... and wart-free.
To see the frog shrine for yourself, the exact spot for your GPS is N 34° 26.309 W 119° 41.962.
RELATED: Help Milton count giant sea bass!
Dark Arts: Artist, occultist Marjorie Cameron featured in new book, MOCA show
UPDATE: The Cameron show at MOCA - Cameron: Songs for the Witch Woman- opens Saturday, Oct. 11. Here's the dish from MOCA:
"Organized by guest curator Yael Lipschutz, the exhibition will be the largest survey of Cameron’s work since 1989 and will include approximately 91 artworks and ephemeral artifacts." -- MOCA blog
During a life that ended in 1995, Marjorie Elizabeth Cameron Parsons Kimmel was an occultist, an artist, an actress and wife to one of the world’s first rocket scientists. Neighbors and local newscasters called her a witch.
Cameron wasn’t really a witch. She was born normally enough — 1922 in Belle Plaine, Iowa. But from the very beginning, her art provoked.
“The first drawing that she did in school was somewhat obscene and she got in trouble for it,” says Scott Hobbs, who was a friend of Cameron and helped start the Cameron-Parsons Foundation in order to preserve and promote Cameron’s work.
Video: Marjorie Cameron performance
Cameron kept drawing after school. In the '40s she joined the U.S. Navy, where she drew maps for admirals and worked in a photographic unit during World War II.
After the war, Cameron moved to Pasadena where she found work as a fashion illustrator for newspapers. While she was living in Pasadena, she met Jack Parsons. The co-founder of Jet Propulsion Laboratory and a renowned occultist, Parsons lived in a towering craftsman on Orange Grove that had become infamous for late night revelries.
The two stayed married until Parsons' death in an explosion in his garage in 1952. In that time, Cameron’s husband Jack influenced her art with the teachings of occultist Aleister Crowley, mythology and magic rituals.
Cameron’s art continued to stimulate. A reproduction of her erotic “Peyote Vision” drawing — not much larger than a matchbook — showed in L.A.’s famous Ferus gallery in the '50s. There, it also became a target for L.A.’s vice cops.
“It was considered obscene and the L.A. police raided the gallery more than once,” Hobbs says. “As result of that Cameron vowed to never show in a gallery again. And she pretty well kept to that.”
But Cameron wasn’t only anti-commercial with her art, she was also destructive with it. “At one point in the early 50s she destroyed all of her work,” says Hobbs. “She burned it. Some of it survived because she sold it to friends for little.”
Director Curtis Harrington’s video portrait of Cameron stands as the only visual record of many of the works she burned:
Cameron had a reputation as an enchantress — and an allure about her on screen that led to acting work too. She shows up alongside Dennis Hopper in the 1961 mermaid creature feature “Night Tide.” Cameron plays a mysterious sea-witch:
Cameron was more than just the real-life witch local TV stations would interview on Halloween, more than the woman who dressed in black and drove a hearse. Hobbs says we shouldn’t forget about Cameron the artist.
With the help of Hobbs and the Cameron-Parsons foundation, Yael Lipschutz is curating a show at MOCA that will focus on Cameron’s work.
“It’s an exciting opportunity for younger artists to see the output of someone who has a rather mythic underground status in the art world but whose objects and creations we haven’t had the opportunity to see in the flesh,” Lipschutz says.
There’s no denying Cameron was a prominent figure in the counterculture and beat movements here in L.A., influencing artists like George Herms and Wallace Berman with what Lipschutz calls a romantic, William Blake-like sensibility. Much of Cameron’s work remains obscure because of her own choices, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t always working on her art.
“She led a sort of renegade life,” Lipschutz says. According to Lipschutz, Cameron was known to escape to the desert, where she led a primal lifestyle and was handy with a shotgun. “No matter how poor her existence was, she never stopped creating,” Lipschutz says. “...It was always the fire that I think fueled her, more than anything.”
As a caretaker and promoter of Cameron’s work, Scott Hobbs agrees that, while Cameron’s fantastic life story might first get your attention, her art will keep you under its spell.
“Her work really does stand on its own,” Hobbs says. “I don’t meet people quite like that anymore.”
There’s a new book out called “Songs for the Witch Woman” that features Cameron’s drawings and Jack Parsons' poetry.
Cameron's upcoming MOCA show runs October 11 through next January.