September 22, 2012

Back in the 1950s when it was known as Don Pepe’s, a tragic incident occurred here on Sunset Boulevard – and those caught in the crossfire have apparently haunted the building ever since. An attempted robbery spun out of control, and two innocent bystanders were shot while trying to hide from the flying bullets – many guests and employees have often claimed to see “shadows” of people crouching or hiding.

Also, visitors often ask about the “haunted mirror”, a mirror with an amazingly gaudy frame that hangs beside the tiny bar – the story goes that if you stare into it, another person’s reflection stares back at you. No-one seems to know the story behind the mirror or why this strange effect occurs, but the legend of this “haunted mirror” has spread far and wide, and people often ask about it as soon as they have sat down in one of the red booths.

As long as you see your own reflection, then you can be sure you’re not a vampire. If you don’t, then just hope that it’s a side-effect of too many of their famous “Flaming Margaritas”, a gaudy drink that fits right in with the 1970s vibe in here. If you’re not drinking or are the designated driver, then beware: the soda refills will keep coming – but they’re not free. Since there was no evidence anywhere for the robbery, the only thing I can confirm about El Compadre is the strength of their flaming margaritas!

September 16, 2012

After being a Downtown stalwart for over 90 years, the King Eddy bar is – any day now – due to close it’s doors for renovation. There’s no solid re-opening date either (though it is keeping the name apparently), but whatever happens, it won’t be the same dive bar it was. Nonetheless, as part of the King Edward Hotel it has stories to tell….

In February 1906 the Los Angeles Times noted that the new building planned for 5th Street was “such an American hotel, although with such a very English name, don’t you know”. Designed by architects John Parkinson and George “Ed” Bergstrom, the fireproof six story King Edward hotel was due to boast a marble lobby, mosaic floors, “a telephone in every room”, and was built from materials made right here in L.A.

While Parkinson went on to make a huge mark on the skyline – he was the man behind City Hall, Union Station, the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum and many others – the King Edward Hotel’s halcyon days are long in the past. Down on street level, the King Eddy Saloon was here almost as long as the hotel itself, and that includes during the 1920s and 1930s, when it was a store selling pianos (though drinkers could use a separate entrance to get to the “speakeasy” in the basement).

It was the time of Prohibition, and the King Eddy was right at the center of it. Corrupt local officials turned a blind eye, enjoyed the secret drinking and took some of the profits, while underneath the bar there was a 133 foot tunnel that was part of a large network of service and utility tunnels across downtown Los Angeles – perfect for deliveries of bootleg liquor. After prohibition ended in 1933 the speakeasy disappeared and it went back to proudly being a dive bar – opening for business at 6am!

Novelists Charles Bukowski and John Fante drank here, and it helped inspire Fante to write his semi-autobiographical Ask The Dust (1939), the tale of struggling writer Arturo Bandini who lived downtown and came here to drink and dance with “Jean”.

As for the hotel, it started with a bang of the worst kind; Shortly after first opening its doors, one of the guests committed suicide in his room following a three-day drinking and gambling spree.

The Los Angeles Times of September 15, 1906 reported that Benjamin E. Smith, who had been left by his wife due to his “slavery” to liquor and gambling, drank an ounce of the poison laudanum before writing several suicide letters. In one he accused his aunt of illegally selling his property and hoped that “her soul would be in torment forever,” while in the other he blamed his wife Minnie as the “cause of it all”, and then wrote his last words:

“Minnie, you killed me”.

The hotel changed hands for the sum of $50,000 in March 1909, and the new owners had to deal with a Christmas Day tragedy that same year. As reported in the Los Angeles Times, in the early hours of Christmas Day, H.F. Windward shot himself in the head with a .38 caliber revolver while his new friend S.F. Oliver sat just yards away. Registered under the name Brown, Windward was dictating some letters to Oliver – one of which was regarding a woman whom “he was ready to give up a thousand lives” – before he performed his final act, something that led the Los Angeles Herald to describe him as “Disappointed In Love”.

The King Eddy’s everyone knows now is a no-frills, no messing, cash-only dive bar of the highest order. Their funky website gleefully admitted that this is the place where “nobody gives a shit about your name” and that they serve the cheapest “muddy water” – ingredients unknown. Inside there’s a handwritten sign that says “Keep your house clean” and “Mess with drugs – go to jail”, and there’s also an indoor smoking section (the people inside looking like human goldfish as they stare back through the glass).

The food isn’t “gourmet” – the most expensive item when I went was the Breakfast Special (sausages, hash browns, biscuits and gravy for a very wallet-friendly $3.25) – but I loved the pastrami sandwich (complete with onions, pickles and mustard and served in a plastic red basket), and having a beer with a few of the bar’s “characters”.

The front page of the September 3, 1934 issue of the Los Angeles Times reported the unusual death of up-and-coming singer Russ Columbo, 26, who lived with his parents at 1940 Outpost Circle (one of the roads that snake around the hill towards Yamashiro).

Columbo had apparently been showing an ancient Civil War pistol to his friend and photographer Lansing V. Brown Jr. when it accidentally went off. Brown told police that he was test-firing the gun with a match in his hand; the match accidentally touched the percussion cap and the gun fired, the ball ricocheting off a nearby table into Columbo’s eye and into his brain – he died hours later.

The death was ruled an accident, and the thousands of funeral guests included rival crooner Bing Crosby and Carole Lombard, who was romantically linked with Columbo – there had been talk of marriage – and was due to have had dinner with him the next night. Singers Jerry Vale and Tiny Tim both recorded tribute albums in 1958 and 1961 respectively, and Neil Diamond lists him in his 1970 song “Done Too Soon”.

Not at the funeral was Columbo’s mother who, at the time of his death, was in hospital having recently suffered a heart attack and was initially told that he was “abroad winning fame”. Amazingly, even after leaving hospital she was never informed of her his death, and the family’s “merciful fraud” (hatched out fears for her health and easier because she was nearly blind) used all kinds of schemes including fake letters “from Europe” until her death – which only came some ten years later.

September 1, 2012

Angels Flight was originally located by the 3rd Street Tunnel – just at the end of the block from where it is now. Today it’s almost invisible under buildings, but at the time the tunnel was considered to be an engineering marvel, even if it was always surrounded by controversy and seemed cursed by accidents. It took at least six lives during construction, and after work began in early 1899 numerous accidents led the Los Angeles Times to call it the “Terrible Tunnel”, and on January 21, 1900 came the most serious of them all.

Thirteen men were trapped following a cave-in, and though the frantic efforts of the rescuers bought ten men out alive (the Los Angeles Herald front page described a “Voice From a Living Tomb”), the remaining three died.

The Carpenters Union #428 immediately protested the “reckless and criminal manner” of work being done and the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner used a sensational headline:

Just a few months later on July 9, Albert Williams, 40, was another victim of the “Terrible Tunnel”. He suffered a broken back, broken legs and cracked ribs, his face “horribly mutilated” when it was driven into the crowbar he was holding, when he was crushed by falling clay estimated to weigh around 250 pounds. His three children were described as now “practically orphans”. Later that year on November 25 the two ends of the tunnel were joined, and in March 1901 it was opened to the public. By 1904 the tunnel was handling 1,500 horse teams and 4,700 pedestrians a day, though the opening of the 2nd Street Tunnel in 1924 only briefly slowed the overwhelming tide of the automobile.

Ironically, the 2nd Street Tunnel is now often used in car commercials (it was also in the movie Bladerunner) and if you go downtown on a Sunday there’s a good chance you’ll see a film crew at work somewhere.