A View from Raymond Hill

Raymond Hill is situated on the north side of South Pasadena with panoramic views of Pasadena, San Marino and Los Angeles. The area has been the site of two very fancy, very doomed hotels. In 1886, the luxurious Raymond Hotel opened with great fanfare. It was built by Walter Raymond, owner of a Boston area travel agency who made his fortune packaging warm Southern California winter vacations to cold East Coast residents. Perhaps I should say that the Raymond opened with great fanfare. As a guidebook at the time pointed out, "It is not necessary that one should say Raymond Hotel. There is but one Notre Dame, but one Acropolis, but one Colossus, and so there is but one Raymond." But one Raymond burned to the ground in less than an hour on Easter Sunday in 1895.

So, the hotel was rebuilt at the turn of the century and served as a destination spot for several decades until it was consumed by the economic inferno of the Great Depression. As tourism dwindled in the years following the stock market crash, Walter Raymond could no longer pay the mortgage and eventually the hotel was destroyed by a wrecking ball.

The housing boom of the post-war mid 1940s to early 1950s brought new growth to Raymond Hill. Where the rich and famous once wined and dined, working families now filled dozens of modest apartment houses. Many buildings are still there, giving the place a distinct mid-century vibe that reminds me of a different Southern California Raymond: Raymond Chandler.

This view, looking out over Pasadena, makes me understand why Chandler saw Los Angeles as both dark and light. The cactus, the smokestacks, the city, the mountains -- it's such a study in contrast. Trouble boiling beneath a surface paradise. Flowers growing over a rotten underbelly. And wouldn't you know? As I was taking this shot, I smelled an overpowering scent of honeysuckle. Or, as Walter Neff said in the classic Chandler-penned film noir Double Indemnity, "It was a hot afternoon, and I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that street..." Check out a great scene from the film right here.

(For all things related to Raymond Hill history, you can't beat Jane Apostol's magnificent book highlighted here. )

Reinventing the Wheel

When I was a little girl, my mother taught me about the color wheel. Somewhere in her explanation, however, I missed out on the fact that it was a chart, just a graphical representation of the hues that we see and their relationship to one another. I thought the color wheel was an actual place. The Color Wheel. You know, like Yellowstone National Park or The Blue Ridge Mountains or The White House. Oh, I mused to myself, I'll bet The Color Wheel is HUGE! I'll bet it is twenty stories high, filling up the entire sky and casting a giant multicolored shadow!

I was pretty bummed out when I found out the truth.

Maybe that's why I get such a kick out of wildly colored houses like this one. I may not be able to make a trek to The Color Wheel, but I live in South Pasadena. I get to see these technicolor wonders whenever I want.

Salad Dressing

Would you believe this is the second yard scarecrow I've spotted in the last few weeks? The first one stood guard over a well-tended patch of herbs in a ritzy Los Angeles neighborhood. And get this: it was wearing what looked like a Betsey Johnson dress. Nothing like a bad economy to give us new uses for high priced fashion. (I think it's a great idea. Frankly, some Betsey Johnson fabric prints scare ME!)

I noticed this less couture scarecrow in the side yard garden of one of South Pasadena's biggest mansions. It might not make the best-dressed list, but that's okay. Home-grown vegetables are always in vogue.

Pole Position

Something strange has been going on at Orange Grove Park. First, this really ginormous pole went up. See how it dwarfs the light post? Then city workers dug, as my daughter pointed out, "the biggest hole in the whole wide world" in the field right underneath the pole. Next, they reinforced the hole with steel and turned it into some kind of hatch before covering it up again. (A hatch! Just like LOST! I knew South Pasadena was a portal to some otherworldly dimension ... and now I have proof!)

So, the other day this guy up there was tinkering with something at the top of the pole. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable cover story explanation. But if I were to guess? I'm betting on a strategic message broadcast to intelligent life forms across the galaxy. Or maybe it's a cloaking device, something to preserve South Pasadena's small-town vibe. Or a necessary prong, constructed to keep the universe from collapsing. And why not? After all, JPL is just a few miles away...

(pre)occupation

Someone had been working in this Huntington office building the other night with paint brushes, a circular saw and a nail gun. When I took a closer look in the window, I saw a worn paperback of Great American Short Stories splayed on the floor next to a pile of lumber. Of course, I thought about a poem:

Day Job and Night Job
by Andrew Hudgins

After my night job, I sat in class
and ate, every thirteen minutes,
an orange peanut—butter cracker.
Bright grease adorned my notes.

At noon I rushed to my day job
and pushed a broom enough
to keep the boss calm if not happy.
In a hiding place, walled off

by bolts of calico and serge,
I read my masters and copied
Donne, Marlowe, Dickinson, and Frost,
scrawling the words I envied,

so my hand could move as theirs had moved
and learn outside of logic
how the masters wrote. But why? Words
would never heal the sick,

feed the hungry, clothe the naked,
blah, blah, blah.
Why couldn't I be practical,
Dad asked, and study law—

or take a single business class?
I stewed on what and why
till driving into work one day,
a burger on my thigh

and a sweating Coke between my knees,
I yelled, "Because I want to!"—
pained—thrilled!—as I looked down
from somewhere in the blue

and saw beneath my chastened gaze
another slack romantic
chasing his heart like an unleashed dog
chasing a pickup truck.

And then I spilled my Coke. In sugar
I sat and fought a smirk.
I could see my new life clear before me.
lt looked the same. Like work.

Caption this photo... (#13)

Sometimes, I just need my readers' cleverness and keen minds to help me finish a post. (In other words: I think this is odd shot is cool, but have no idea what to say about it...)

South Pasadena Fourth of July Parade 2009 Part 2

South Pasadena's exquisite collection of vintage automobiles made the Fourth of July Festival of Balloons parade a thrill on wheels. These three antique beauties were just the beginning. Want to see more? Cruise on over to my overflow blog for enough sweet rides to drive car aficionados right into shock. (Don't say I didn't warn you...)