Losing an RV day due to last week’s trip to Wisconsin for my uncle’s funeral cost us our overnight stay in Fresno … darn. But don’t worry about us staying entertained. We’ve got eight people in the area to visit, plus I'm swimming from Fisherman's Wharf to Alcatraz on Friday. It's a fundraiser for diabetes I think. Do you know where I can pick up some extra lard?
One of my best friends lives in Rio Vista, CA, where we would be camping. I’ve known John “Duppy” Lamb since 1958 when we were on the opposite sides of an energetic snowball fight. The fight may have started because of John being called “Duppy.” I’m not sure. As a little boy, John loved watching the cowboy shows on TV; a particular favorite of his was George “Gabby” Hayes. John would go around announcing, “Me Gabby,” only his pronunciation made it sound more like “Duppy” than “Gabby.” The nickname stuck.
On Monday, May 18, we made the elongated 391-mile drive to Rio Vista, an outlying sub-suburb of San Francisco. After a quick set-up, we met Dupp for dinner at The Point restaurant on the Sacramento River where we began all our catching up.
Dupp is a most interesting guy. Like Job, he’s put up with a mountain of travails in his lifetime, yet he never loses his optimistic spirit and “can-do” attitude. While serving as an attorney for the Army’s Judge Advocate General’s corp, Dupp and his wonderful and pretty wife Glenda had three boys to go along with Glenda’s daughter. But shortly after the birth of their last son, a tumor was discovered in Glenda’s brain. After an operation, she was never the same and soon ceased being able to be a part of her family’s lives, leaving Duppy alone to raise four kids under ten-years old while working a stressful job in the military. But he persevered, determined to give those kids all he had.
Several years later he married Faye. The kids grew up and moved out and on but always had a touchstone in their dad to help with the difficult decisions. In retirement, Dupp and Faye threw themselves into fundraising, doing marathons to raise great sums for the American Cancer Society.
And then just about a month before we were to visit the Lambs, wife Faye underwent heart bypass surgery, the same procedure I had done three years ago. More obstacles for the two of them to overcome, but together, they did. Faye is still battling but seems to be recovering pretty well. And Dupp is … well, as ever, he’s still our “Duppy.”
Not being sure how much time would be available to the Lambs, we made our schedule for the week, but Dupp and Faye were determined to not let her operation derail our visit. We got the local town tour with Duppy Tuesday, later joined by Faye that night at the campground for one of Diedre’s home-cooked … well, make that “RV-cooked” dinners. We talked well into the night.
Then again on Wednesday, we joined the Lambs for pizza in downtown Rio Vista. A very interesting friend of theirs, Hans, joined us. He had played basketball for Boston College back in the 50’s and had almost beaten Jerry West’s strong West Virginia team in the NCAA tourney. The three guys talked basketball as the ladies practiced their yawning.
Later that night, we got home in time to watch the final “Late Night with David Letterman” show. I go way back with Dave, watching him with all the other “goons” during his midnight to 1 a.m. slot after Johnny Carson. It had always bothered me that Dave didn’t get the “Tonight” show when Johnny left. I pretty much blamed Jay Leno for being a weasel, so from the night Johnny left on up until Jimmy Fallon took over, I refused to watch even one minute of the Leno “Tonight” show. I’ll miss Dave, especially his younger, zanier years, but it was time for him to move on.
Thursday, May 21, was our big day in San Francisco. We would be visiting the 29th out of the 30 major league baseball stadiums to see a game. Not wishing to deal with the legendary San Fran traffic, we confidently rode with Dupp to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station where we would be riding the rails to the Giants day game with Dupp and then meet up with his oldest son, Jordan, at the marvelous ocean side AT&T Park located, appropriately enough, at 24 Willie Mays Plaza. Having lived in Northern California for most of his adult life, we assumed Duppy would know all the ropes for riding the BART … and of course, we would be wrong. This may have been his first time on the BART; I’m not sure as he wasn’t admitting to anything.
Somehow, we Three Stooges made it to the downtown area where, along with 41,840 other rabid fans there for the Giants 350th straight sell-out game, we made our way along the ocean sidewalk to the ballpark.
Doing our customary walk-around-the-outside-of-the-park before our equally customary –walk –around –the –inside –of –the-park pre-game rituals, we admired the Giants history which goes back to the 1890’s in New York City. There I am with plaques of Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, and Gaylord Perry, all Hall-of-Famers.
Additionally, there were the obligatory statues of Juan Marichal and Willie Mays with which I posed. We even got out behind the right-field wall where the kayakers paddle about in the bay waiting to retrieve any well hit home runs by sturdy left-handers.
Once inside the park, we went on our search for this stadium’s best concession. Ballpark foods have a “Top Ten List” as rated by “TenBest.com”; San Francisco’s “Crazy Crab’z Grilled Crab Sandwich” holds down the number nine spot, so we decided we had to have one.
Our review: it’s easy to hold, it’s got seafood in it, and it’s delicious … it was also $17, which we were crazy to pay. Of course, what do you expect from a duo who drives all over the country checking out baseball stadiums.
DK, as is her wont, had studied up on all the teams we would be seeing this summer before we left Arizona so that she could be wearing the correct team color-combinations at each game. Today she was in Giants’ orange and black.
We made it up to the third deck for our standard ballpark picture, only this one had a special guest photographee (Dupp) included in it. Just expanding our horizons.
In a great game featuring two of the best left-handers, nay, probably the two BEST pitchers in all of baseball, Giants’ World Series hero Madison Bumgarner pitched San Fran to a 4-0 win over their arch rivals, the Los Angeles Dodgers and their perennial Cy Young winning pitcher, Clayton Kershaw. Bumgarner even rubbed salt in the Dodgers’ blue-blood by smacking a home run in his first at-bat.
If you take out the sentiment of seeing games at the 1912 Fenway Park in Boston and the 1914 Wrigley Field in Chicago, we unanimously decided this had to be the best stadium we’ve seen … and we only have one left to visit. Seattle, you better have your game face on for us when we visit in 12 days.
Afterwards, Jordan led us on a cross-country walk to the fine “Lefty O’Doul’s Bar” for some post-game libations. Lefty was a fine baseball player from the San Francisco Seals minor league team as well as the New York Giants in the 30’s. After retirement, he opened up his bar which has persevered ever since. DK and I have made it a tradition that whenever we’re in San Fran, we always make a pilgrimage to Lefty’s. There, I order some beers and two giant corn-beef sandwiches while DK she picks out a booth. It’s a different booth each time; Lefty’s walls are covered with photographs of all the great baseball players, most of them from 1900-1940. My job then is to tell DK a story about whichever player’s picture is featured most prominently in our “booth-du-jour.” And I’ve never failed to relate an appropriate tale. Today’s booth featured the 1908 Chicago Cubs, winners of the World Series that year (and the last one the Cubs would see for 107 years and counting).
So for today’s booth story for DK, Dupp, and Jordan, I chose a dramatic recital, from memory, of the epic baseball poem, “Tinker to Evers to Chance.” Enjoy:
“These are the saddest of possible words:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Trio of bear Cubs fleeter than birds:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
making a Giant hit into a double,
words that are weighty with nothing but trouble:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.”
Applause, applause, applause.
Not to be outdone, Dupp then told the story of how he used to keep his rambunctious, young boys in line. When they would misbehave, he did NOT have to discipline them with a spanking or a time-out. He would simply inform them that if they didn’t shape up, he would go to his closet, don his old bell bottoms and clogs he wore constantly in the 70’s, and would then show up at their school announcing that he was their father. It worked every time.
On Friday, Diedre and I attempted the BART downtown trip once again, only this time alone. We got our 3-mile walk in as we made it out to the iconic Pier 39 near Fisherman’s Wharf. I had never been out to see Alcatraz Island, and once again on this trip, I would still not get there. The closest I got was a picture of me and Al Capone’s old digs taken from Pier 39.
DK and I then went our separate ways … oh, just for the day. She returned to BART to go uptown in order to take a Pilates class while I wandered over to “The Cartoon Art Museum.” Yes, I’m still a kid. They were having a special showing of a comic series called “Darth Vader and Friends.” I mean, cartoons AND “Star Wars”? Does it get any better than that? The series of framed art depicted Darth Vader raising tykes Luke and Leia as if he were a traditional father. The exhibit was very colorful and portrayed a lot of quite funny scenarios.
Diedre’s Pilates class was taught by Laura Kirkeby, the beautiful daughter of DK’s best Minnesota friend Jennifer Kirkeby. Jennifer is a longtime playwright and actress. She’s extremely funny. To visualize her on stage, picture Carol Burnett on steroids.
Daughter Laura, along with her sister Amber, are both college grads with degrees in dance/choreography. They are incredible hoofers, so amazingly agile in that way young people disgustingly have, and have both done their fair share of acting.
I remember back when they were little, about seven and five, we had them on “The Kaye and Stuart Show,” the variety cable-TV program DK and I wrote, directed, produced, and starred in. It aired in over 100 cities in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. Anyway, Jenn would dress the little girls up like two old ladies, calling them “Millie and Molly.” Then when Diedre and I were doing our idiot show, we would periodically cut away to a shot of the two of them. There they’d sit with the most disgusted looks on their faces. Millie (Laura) would pompously turn right to the camera and announce, “I was TOLD this was going to be entertaining.” And an equally bored Molly (Amber) would nod in agreement, then plaintively ask, “Is this almost over?” They stole the show every time.
It was so great catching up with Millie … I mean “Laura” … now as a beautiful young woman making her way in the world of dance. We found a great little Thai place for lunch just blocks away from the Pilates studio where we could all get caught up. You know, the children of our friends, along with DK’s siblings’ kids, have become our de-facto kids (along with Charlie, Casey, and Samantha) and we absolutely love seeing them become so accomplished in their new adult lives.
On our last day in Sandy Francisco, we were off on a road trip to see friends in the Napa Valley. On our way out of town, we spotted Rio Vista’s many windmills. Of course, they were not quite like the quaint windmills surrounded by tulips typically seen in Holland. Rio’s windmills actually bore a closer resemblance to the monsters in “War of the Worlds.”
We headed north an hour to the lovely little town of “Yountville” in Napa Valley. There we would have dinner with my old college basketball buddy Howard Deichen, his wife Jamie, Howard’s brother Jim (maybe the funniest business executive ever), and Jim’s wife Kathy, a big-time theatre producer and actress in the San Francisco suburbs. You may remember Howard and Jamie from last year’s Atlanta blog when we spent our only night in three years of RV travel NOT in AB1 as we camped out in the luxurious spare bedroom in the Deichen mansion. Howard, after a wonderful career in business, and Jamie are now in the process of building their dream house high on a mountainside in wine country. We took a sub-road trip to their marvelously scenic lot where Howard explained their architectural plans to us. My main concern was where our bedroom would be.
The house will, incredibly enough, include a 9-CAR GARAGE! Yes, Howard is a big-time car collector. Last year we saw seven of his classic cars at their Atlanta home. But since their dream home is still in the planning stages, they only have three of their collector cars with them at their rental in Yountville while the rest are in storage. Howard describes the ones they do have on hand thusly:
-a Jaguar F-Type, 550 hp, super-charged, 0-60 in 3.4 seconds, ¼ mile in 11.6 seconds at 122 mph, top
speed 195 mph;
- a Ferrari 599 HGTE Fiorono, the reigning Ferrari super car from 2008-14, 640 hp, V12, 0-60 in 3
seconds, ¼ mile in 11 seconds, 0-150 in 14 seconds, does 210 mph;
-and, of course, Jamie’s old truck (100% restored), a 1954 Chevrolet 5-window pick-up; Howard
has no idea what its 0-60 time is.
And I collect baseball cards. We all have our “thing.”
We then walked to dinner through the local “Tobacco Free” park. The six of us had dinner at Lucy’s, one of the top restaurants in the country. You could tell it was really one of the swells: when you ordered your meal, it was easy to notice that the clown’s head was solid gold.
Classy!
All right, we’ll pick it up next week as we hit the Oregon Trail. Stay tuned.
Okay, before I get into our Anaheim/Los Angeles blog, I probably need to explain the meaning of the last thing in our previous blog, you know, the “Extremus extra deprehendo” comment. It’s Latin, thanxx to my 5-and-a-half-years (really?) of high school and college Latin. And although it seemed to reference the “Ben-Hur” film, it actually has to do with softball.
Alexx … softball … big surprise!
I’ll explain: In 1983, my buddy Alps and I started the “Duck Soup Softball Fiasco,” a zany softball tournament-fundraiser that has given out over $100,000 in scholarships in the intervening 32 years. The tournament is actually the “anti-tournament,” as the rules come loosely from the spirit of the Marx Brothers movies. Teams come to games in costumes, bonus runs are given if you dress like Groucho Marx, bases are run in reverse order, teams get do-overs … you get the drift. So when Alps and I figured we could sell T-shirts at the event, we decided to give it some class. We made a coat-of-arms logo with a kingly duck standing on a big bowl of soup stirring it with an oar. And we needed a motto in Latin, so I came up with “Extremus extra deprehendo.” It actually had some relevance to softball. Back in the day, playing catcher was considered a demeaning demotion. Of course, nowadays in senior softball, it’s considered an enviable position since it means less running. Anyway, back when we were young, no one wanted to play catcher, so we made up a Duck Soup team rule that stated when your team was batting, whoever made the last out of the inning had to play catcher the following inning. Thus, “Extremus extra deprehendo” or “last out catches.”
I know, I know, move it along.
Today’s blog actually covers two weeks instead of one. The gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair may now begin.
Because of the need to see a major league game in Anaheim and friends and relatives in Los Angeles, we pitched our tent between the two locations in San Dimas for both weeks, so this blog may be a bit long … What, you think last week’s blog was a post-it note?
On Sunday, May 3, we made it to the bucolic shores of Puddingstone Lake in the East Shore RV Park. We immediately took to our bed for a little R&B (rest and blog).
The next day, just like all the rest of you, we celebrated “Star Wars Day” (You know, “May the 4th Be With You,” thtupid) by re-watching part of my favorite movie series. We saw “Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace” and will watch one episode each month on our trek so that we’ll really be ready for “Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens” in all fine movie houses on December 18.
I use the term “we” loosely as Diedre Kaye would rather eat bees than watch science fiction movies. However, as a trade-off, she has agreed to once again try to stay awake through the series of S.W. movies if I agree to go to musicals on stage. In general, if a musical isn’t either “Guys and Dolls” or one I’ve written with ample song parodies, I don’t go.
Earlier that day, I did my usual three-mile walk. That made it 1,200 consecutive days I’ve walked that far dating all the way back to January, 2012, a few weeks after my heart-bypass surgery. The 3,600 miles trod is the equivalent of walking from Phoenix to Minneapolis and then back to Tucson with only slightly less gas than AB1 uses. Stay tuned for August 12 when the streak hits 1,300. (Diedre decided to join me in the streak walking/exercise plan when I hit 1,000 days. She decided it would be easier to keep track of her days if she only had to subtract 1,000 miles from my streak number. Previously she would start and stop because she kept confusing the number of days in her streak with the number of recipes she'd put in her cookbook. I think she's got it straight now, so for you mathematically challenged sorts, she's hit day 200.)
Tuesday was a big day: we would be attending a major league baseball game at our 28th (out of 30) stadium. The excitement was building.
On our way to the game, we stopped at the Anaheim Sunkist Packing House, a fruit warehouse built in 1919; it now houses several fun restaurants.
They also had a small screening room where they ran a loop of the Stan Laurel silent movie called “Oranges and Lemons.” It was filmed August 12, 1923, with Laurel and Hardy regular James Finlayson and portrayed Stan as an imbecile who unwittingly destroys a packing house. It was still very funny.
The Angels game promotion that night at “The Big A” was “Sombrero Night,” I guess because it was Cinco de Mayo. I had my sombrero picture taken with a statue of the Angels’ first owner, legendary cowboy-singer Gene Autry. I also had my picture taken with the Angels 2002 World Series trophy.
It was a great game that night, probably the best one we’ve seen in our three years on the AB1 road. We got to see future Hall-of-Famer Albert Pujols hit a home run for the Angels.
But the real
star was rookie catcher Carlos Perez of the Angels who was playing in his FIRST major league game. On his initial big league at-bat, he ripped a crisp single to left, but the real excitement of the evening was when the rookie catcher came to bat in the bottom of the 9th with the score knotted at 4-all. He promptly hit the first pitch he saw into the left-field stands for walk-off home run. The place went nuts.
The next morning we dragged our weary bodies out of bed in time to welcome long-time friend and former house-mate Pauli Morin over for breakfast. Living in the Pasadena suburb of Sierra Madre, Pauli has become a superstar realtor. I don’t think she sells any houses that aren’t in the seven-figures range.
On Thursday, we were back on the road, this time heading for the Westwood Village Memorial Park (cemetery) in L.A. The address is 1218 Glendon Avenue; I give you that information in case you, too, are thinking of seeking out this cemetery. It’s a little place, a bit tricky to find, but it has a wealth of celebrities interred there. Among the celebs we paid our respects to were:
-Don Knotts, aka “Barney Fife,” one of my all-time favorites;
-“Green Acres” stars Eva Gabor and Eddie Albert (I was not, however, able to find Arnold Ziffel’s grave as we
found out he had been cremated and buried in a large BLT sandwich);
-the final resting place found by DK of the lovely and sorely missed Natalie Wood;
-Rodney Dangerfield whose tombstone reads: “There goes the neighborhood!”
-our favorite “Charlie’s Angel,” Farrah Fawcett;
-the wonderful actors and friends Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon. Jack, incidentally, reposes next to the
grave of longtime “All in the Family” actor Carol O’Connor;
-one of Diedre’s all-time faves Fanny Brice who died in 1951;
-a great singer and a very funny man, Dean Martin.
The main reason we had come to WVMP, however, was to see the crypt of DK’s absolutely most favorite actress of all time, the exquisite Marilyn Monroe. It took us over an hour, but we finally came across Marilyn just as our parking meter was expiring … uhh, let’s make that “running out.” Marilyn’s wall crypt had lovely red roses in a holder on the face of it. The crypt next to her was vacant. We understood that it had been at one time owned by her ex-husband, Joe Dimaggio, but at some point, he decided he didn’t want it anymore, so he sold it to Hugh Hefner in 1992 for $75,000. When Hef goes, he’ll lie eternally next to his magazine’s first cover girl, Marilyn Monroe.
Rest in peace, sweet girl.
The excitement for that evening was that we were going to meet the fiancee of our nephew Jake Versluis, the youngest son of Diedre’s sister, Goldie. Deb Bell was both beautiful and charming and will be a welcome addition to the family. Jake, a star in the music business who once managed the mega rock group “Incubus,” was taking no chances on the direction of our initial meeting with Deb, so he took us to his “go-to” Cuban restaurant, Versailles, for dinner. We can’t wait to see these two great “kids” tie the knot October 17 in Malibu a scant six days after this year’s RV trip ends. We WILL be there.
There was a phone call that night from my cousin with some bad news. My uncle John Hacklander, my mother’s only sibling, had passed away at the age of 89. John was like a hero to my brother Mark and me when we were little. He led such an exciting life: a medic during World War II, a scuba diver, and a licensed pilot. He had a mink farm for years before getting into the Arabian horse business with my Aunt Marianne and their daughters. When he came to visit us in the late 50’s, he was sporting a full beard, not so common in those days. He so impressed my little 9-year old self with that beard that I vowed that I, too, would have a beard some day. And so on April 26, 1978, the day I got out of the U.S. Army Reserves, I quit shaving. I’ve had a beard in tribute to my Uncle John ever since.
On Friday, May 8, we made our way out to Pasadena for dinner with Diedre’s wonderful cousins, Jan and John Price. While the ladies caught up on crocheting, decorating, and the threat of nuclear proliferation, John and I were off to the nearby Rose Bowl where he had arranged a personal tour for me of the humongous football stadium.
I had been there previously for one Super Bowl (a 1977 Vikings loss to the Raiders) and one Rose Bowl (the 1998 Michigan victory over Washington State) but had never been behind the scenes at the massive stadium. We were able to see the broadcast booths as well as the newly built, plush executive sky boxes. I found out the Rose Bowl was built from 1921-22. Although larger before the remodel, it still seats 89,000 spectators.
It was really great that John had set up this tour for me. In fact, John and I have a lot in common: he’s been in the sports radio broadcast business for years doing football games every weekend in the fall while I, on the other hand, have listened to radio going back to the early 50’s when I used to smuggle a transistor radio into bed with me every night so that I could surreptitiously listen to Milwaukee Braves baseball games.
During our visit, I learned a bit of history about John’s versatile family: his father, as a young dentist, helped develop the oral pain reliever “Novocain,” and his sister, Nancy, is a published novelist who wrote the hugely popular “Sleeping With the Enemy” book which later became a 20th Century Fox movie with Julia Roberts.
On the drive there that afternoon, it became our opinion that there’s so much traffic in L.A. that even the car pool lanes need car pool lanes. On some freeways, the HOV lanes require you to have THREE people in the car, not two. So many Angelinos take advantage of the HOV lanes that at times when we were in the regular lanes, we were actually passing those in the car pool lane. There must be a lot of people paying attention to saving energy.
Just as Diedre had wanted to pay last respects to Marilyn Monroe, so had I wanted to do the same for two of my all-time favorite comedians, Stan Laurel and Harpo Marx. Stan is interred at Forest Lawn in the Hollywood Hills, so on Saturday, we made our way out there to visit Stan one last time. He had always been so funny and was such a nice man.
While at Forest Lawn, we also saw the final resting places of legendary actress Bette Davis and the all-time winningest NCAA basketball tournament coach John Wooden. DK spotted the artfully decorated tomb of the wonderful pianist Liberace. And sweet Sandra Dee’s grave was marked “Unforgettable and Always Loved.”
I never was able to find Harpo Marx’s location. It turns out that Harpo’s ashes are in a sand trap on the 7th hole at the Rancho Mirage Golf Course near Palm Springs. That sounds like something he’d do. It had to be tough playing golf with Harpo back then; when he’d hit into another group, they would never hear him yell, “FORE!” … because … you know … he didn’t speak.
Dinner that night was at two more (five?) relatives’ home. Near the very visual, humongous “Hollywood” sign live our nephew Brian, the younger son of Diedre’s older brother Doug, his wife Cindy, and their three 3 kids who are … brace yourself … ALL UNDER FOUR YEARS OLD! Yes, that’s one-year old Jasper drinking out of a wine bottle. He’s definitely Diedre’s grand-nephew.
He and his twin sister Bridget keep things lively for their older and mellow brother Shepherd.
Brian and Cindy are right there in keeping in the tradition of us having nothing but attractive and successful nieces and nephews. Cindy is a published author, having two novels to her name even as she runs her own focus group business while tending to, once again, THREE children all UNDER FOUR YEARS OLD!
And Brian is an award winning maker of “trailers,” those coming-attraction teasers that make you want to go to the movies again and again. He’s currently working on the newest “Terminator” movie trailer. We both just know he’ll do another great job.
On Sunday, May 10, “Mothers’ Day,” I took Diedre, mother of Charlie, Casey, and Samantha, out to the famous L.A. institution, The Farmers Market, because as you all know, what mother wouldn’t want to spend Mothers’ Day out shopping for groceries. Still, this kind of place intrigues Diedre, my self-named “Food Sheriff” wife. We had fun, although the place was unbelievably crowded. Open since 1934, the FM houses over 100 merchants. Strangely, the high point for our girl was stopping at the Market’s Starbucks. Go figure.
Then to make Mothers’ Day a bit more special, we did what Diedre likes best – we went to the theatre. We saw a funny play called “Immediate Family” at the Mark Taper Theater. It had been directed by that old “Cosby” show alum, Phylicia Rashad. The play was good, made even better by us finding the last free parking meter within walking distance of the theater. SCORE!
“Monday rules” prevailed the next day as both did nothing we didn’t want to do. DK had Minnesota friend Pauli over for breakfast again while I batched it at the movie theater to see yet another science fiction yawner, “Avengers: Age of Ultron.” Note that I only go for the special effects (FX).
Re-energized, we got back to doing the tourist thing Tuesday with visits to Venice Beach and its neighbor, Muscle Beach, where Diedre excelled on the rings. On the Venice Beach “Ocean Walk,” we kept thinking we recognized movie stars passing us by, but we soon realized we probably wouldn’t recognize any of the young stars of today (except for Johnny Depp and Emma Stone). As DK said, “That’s why we go to graveyards.” Yup, all the stars we’ve come to love and adore over the years have pretty much retired or died.
We walked from Venice Beach over to the Santa Monica Pier. Originally built from 1908-16, it’s the actual starting point of America’s most venerable and historic highway, “Route 66.” We think we’ll be back here in 2018 as our RV trek that year will be retracing all the roads that made up “The Main Street of America,” Route 66. Get your tickets now.
You’d think with all that beach-walking, we’d be done for the day. And of course, you’d be wrong. From the beach we made our way to that home of the stars (alive this time), Beverly Hills. We had created our own walking tour. I was so excited about getting to see Rodeo Drive and the shops with the horsey stuff and cowboy gear … only … Diedre then informed me, “It’s not ‘ROW-dee-oh,’ you chucklehead, it’s ‘row-DAY-oh’ and it’s not for cowboys.”
Suitably chastised, I then also learned that it’s most likely the three most expensive blocks of shops on the planet.
“That’s ‘Earth,” right, dear?” I asked.
Silence.
I guess she didn’t hear me.
Our first stop at the Rodeo was at Edelweiss Chocolates built in 1942. It’s the chocolateria where Lucille Ball used to get her chocolate fix. She’d park in back of the store and enter through the rear where the chocolates were made. They used a conveyor belt to carry the freshly-made chocolates along as two operators snatched them off the line and packaged them for sale.
Sound familiar?
Yes, seeing the way the operation worked is where Lucy got the idea for the “I Love Lucy” show’s legendary episode where Lucy and Ethel have little luck trying to keep up with the chocolates on the conveyor belt. Amazingly enough, the same Edelweiss system still operates in the back of this little shop.
Continuing our time in the beautiful-people shire, we reenacted “Pretty Woman” on Row-DAY-o Drive as we visited the Beverly Wilshire Hotel . I took the “Julia Roberts” role for obvious (?) reasons. (Trivia note: Nephew Brian got his start in Hollywood as a "cabana boy" at this hotel!)l
We then continued on, visiting Cartier, Rolex, Chanel, Vera Wang, and Ralph Lauren, and being asked to leave every one of them as soon as they found out we were “trailer folk.” I might add, there was not a Radio Shack or a Walmart in sight.
We had ended up walking 8.5 miles by the time we hit an old English pub for drinks with nephews Jake and Brian. And then not wanting the evening to end, we walked two more blocks to Brian’s office where he makes the movie magic happen. He even let us watch as he worked on a trailer for a bit. The experience took me back to the 70’s when I actually used to cut film and tape it together when editing home movies. They’ve come a helluva long way since then as Brian so adeptly showed us. The many awards in his office were ample evidence of how much he’s respected by his peers.
Knowing that I’d be leaving Thursday to fly back for my uncle’s funeral, we moved up our “Hollywood Walking Tour” by one day. So on Wednesday, we scrambled through yet more traffic to the heart of Hollywood, finding free parking about 8 blocks from Hollywood Boulevard, the tourist Mecca. And so, we were off walking again.
We saw all the sites: the Jim Henson Studios (Muppets); the El Capitan Theater where, after opening in 1926, Fanny Brice appeared as one of their original performers; Grauman’s Egyptian Theater; and the Pantages Theater.
We had a lot of fun at the “Larry Edmunds Bookshop,” the country’s best entertainment and film-book store. Strangely enough, Larry never actually set foot in the store. He unfortunately committed suicide in 1938 before the store opened, so in his honor, the new owners named the store after him. We could have spent hours in there. I ended up buying a book called “Hail, Hail, Euphoria,” about the making of my favorite comic movie of all time, “Duck Soup.” Woody Allen once said, “If you asked me to name the best made comedy film ever, “Duck Soup” is the only one that really doesn’t have a dead spot.” I agree. The book is currently providing me with a lot of laughs.
For lunch, we stopped at the venerable “Musso and Frank’s” which opened in 1919. Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, and Mary Pickford had their own table there. It’s rare that we go to a white table cloth restaurant, and it’s even rarer when we go to such an establishment to order a pastrami sandwich with potato chips and a bottle of Diet-Coke. That’s just how we roll. DK patiently waited at the bar for a legendary “Musso & Frank’s Martini.” You could just feel the cinematic history oozing from the walls … either that, or their wallpaper had finally turned after 96 years.
We then made our way over to the Dolby Theatre where the Oscars are held. Did you guys know it’s actually located in a shopping mall? We didn’t. Unfortunately, there was some event in the theatre, so the guards wouldn’t let us anywhere near the place. I did, however, make it onto the Red Carpet where you can see me with the fabled “Hollywood” sign in the background.
We walked most of the “Hollywood Walk of Fame”; interestingly, both Lassie and Godzilla have their own stars: Lassie’s has a paw print next to her signature while Godzilla’s is over two blocks long.
Diedre spotted stars for heart-throb Danny Kaye (It’s Diedre “KAYE” for a reason), Walter Matthau, and Jack Lemmon.
I had to have a pic with one of the stars of our current favorite TV show, “The Big Bang Theory’s” Jim Parsons, as well as with Groucho Marx’s star.
Diedre enjoyed her time with a Marilyn Monroe statue at a museum where we didn’t want to fork over the big bucks for admission tickets. DK soon got more satisfaction swooning over a dancing Elvis statue.
To end our day in Hollywood, we made our way to the legendary Grauman’s Chinese Theater which opened in 1922. In 1927, silent film star Norma Talmedge accidentally stepped into a sidewalk of wet cement at Grauman’s, thus beginning the tradition of immortalizing the prints of legendary Hollywood stars in the concrete of the theater’s forecourt. At present, there are more than 200 stars’ prints there.
DK and I were there for two main reasons: Harpo Marx and Marilyn Monroe. We matched our hands with their prints just to have touched the same spots as our cinematic heroes. Harpo and his brothers left their hand prints on February 17, 1933, while Marilyn’s hand prints were paired with her “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” co-star Jane Russels’s on June 26, 1953.
And so after our close encounters with history and favorite stars, we left Hollywood as happy campers.
The travel blog slams to somewhat of a halt here on Thursday, May 14. In the morning, DK drove me to the airport where I hopped on a plane (middle seat, last row; shows what you get when you buy a ticket last-minute) to fly to Minneapolis. As I mentioned before, my uncle John had passed away, and his funeral was scheduled for Saturday. My mom wanted to go to her brother’s funeral in Janesville, WI, but at age 88, she wasn't up to a 300-mile solo drive (each way). I felt it was important for the two of us to be there, hence my quickly planned detour from the RV road.
Just a few notes about the four days separating me from DK, the cats, and AB1, and vice-versa:
-On Thursday while boarding the airplane, they didn’t bother to check my computer or my one quart clear bag of liquids, BUT they did confiscate my can of “Right Guard Aerosol Deodorant.” I have no idea what that was all about, but I did have to be careful about grossing people out. DK stayed at home-sweet-RV home alone with only the cats to look after her. She watched movies as it rained all day and then learned about Casey’s 3 a.m. howling, from which I had a temporary reprieve.
-On Friday, I drove my mom to Janesville; DK bought groceries and baked for Saturday’s family reunion which I would be missing.
-Saturday, Mom and I attended brother/uncle John’s funeral and then drove back to Minneapolis; DK enjoyed a fun, mini-family reunion with Brindy and Jeb (my Hollywood names for Brian/Cindy and Jake/Deb). I also noted that 50 years ago today, I was confirmed at Union Congregational Church in St. Louis Park, MN … and have, for all practical purposes, never been back.
-On Sunday, May 17, I said my sad farewells to Mom and flew back to L.A.; my athletic wife had taken a vigorous spinning class with Pauli before meeting me at the airport. I was SOOO glad to get back.
As for my mini-trip (mini?), well, all I can say is that Marco Polo had nothing on me: 2, 000-mile flight on Thursday, 300-mile car trip on Friday, those same 300 miles back on Saturday, and another 2,000-mile flight on Sunday. All this, and then a scheduled 400 mile RV drive to San Francisco on Monday. All for a new trade route to China … Marco Polo, that is, not me.
When I got off the plane, I asked Diedre to drive the treacherous 20 Los Angeles-freeway miles back to the campground as I was exhausted. All I could say was, “WHEW!!
Wake me when we get to Sandy Francisco.
Somehow, we Three Stooges made it to the downtown area where, along with 41,840 other rabid fans there for the Giants 350th straight sell-out game, we made our way along the ocean sidewalk to the ballpark. 
Additionally, there were the obligatory statues of Juan Marichal and Willie Mays with which I posed. We even got out behind the right-field wall where the kayakers paddle about in the bay waiting to retrieve any well hit home runs by sturdy left-handers.
If you take out the sentiment of seeing games at the 1912 Fenway Park in Boston and the 1914 Wrigley Field in Chicago, we unanimously decided this had to be the best stadium we’ve seen … and we only have one left to visit. Seattle, you better have your game face on for us when we visit in 12 days.
So for today’s booth story for DK, Dupp, and Jordan, I chose a dramatic recital, from memory, of the epic baseball poem, “Tinker to Evers to Chance.” Enjoy:
DK and I then went our separate ways … oh, just for the day. She returned to BART to go uptown in order to take a Pilates class while I wandered over to “The Cartoon Art Museum.” Yes, I’m still a kid. They were having a special showing of a comic series called “Darth Vader and Friends.” I mean, cartoons AND “Star Wars”? Does it get any better than that? The series of framed art depicted Darth Vader raising tykes Luke and Leia as if he were a traditional father. The exhibit was very colorful and portrayed a lot of quite funny scenarios.
I remember back when they were little, about seven and five, we had them on “The Kaye and Stuart Show,” the variety cable-TV program DK and I wrote, directed, produced, and starred in. It aired in over 100 cities in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. Anyway, Jenn would dress the little girls up like two old ladies, calling them “Millie and Molly.” Then when Diedre and I were doing our idiot show, we would periodically cut away to a shot of the two of them. There they’d sit with the most disgusted looks on their faces. Millie (Laura) would pompously turn right to the camera and announce, “I was TOLD this was going to be entertaining.” And an equally bored Molly (Amber) would nod in agreement, then plaintively ask, “Is this almost over?” They stole the show every time.
On our last day in Sandy Francisco, we were off on a road trip to see friends in the Napa Valley. On our way out of town, we spotted Rio Vista’s many windmills. Of course, they were not quite like the quaint windmills surrounded by tulips typically seen in Holland. Rio’s windmills actually bore a closer resemblance to the monsters in “War of the Worlds.”
-a Jaguar F-Type, 550 hp, super-charged, 0-60 in 3.4 seconds, ¼ mile in 11.6 seconds at 122 mph, top
