The 1960 Plymouth Fury is one of the most spectacular cars of the space age! First of all, the name, FURY! It’s the only car ever named for violent anger or rage. How weird is that? That pointy front fender; the shape of the wheel wells and yes, just in case you didn’t notice, those ravishing rooster tail fins! Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Over the years I’ve owned more than my fair share of vintage cars. I started collecting them in the early ’80s when they were neither as hard to find or as expensive as they are now. One of my lucky finds was a 1960 Plymouth Fury, just like the one in the slide except it was yellow and it wasn’t a convertible. But I have had convertibles (or ragtops as my dad always called them).

I’ll never forget the time in 1992 I went to Colorado to look at a vintage car. I ended up passing on it so I picked up the classifieds to see what other classics might be available. Not 45 minutes later I was the proud owner of a green metallic 1960 Mercury Monterey Convertible. What I did next was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I drove it home with no brakes. It had been sitting for a while and the brake pedal went right to the floor. Oh well, I know cars so thought I’d be OK. Cars do have emergency brakes after all.

For the next two days I drove that magnificent machine through the wilds between Denver and Los Angeles like a bat out of hell. When it came time to exit the Interstate to get some gas and a snack or whatever, I would glide to a perfect stop at the end of the ramp every time – perfect harmony between man and machine. I never even used the emergency brake once. That is until I arrived home in Los Angeles and overshot the stop light at the end of my exit. Come to find out the emergency brake didn’t work either! Oh no! So I did what Fred Flintstone would do. I opened the door and dragged my foot to stop the car. That didn’t work quite for me like it did for Fred. Good thing it was 3 a.m. and there wasn’t another soul in sight.

Here’s to 1960 Plymouths, never driving without brakes again, and YOU

Seeking rest, rejuvenation or relaxation? Not feeling well? Need to take-it-easy? Well, first you must have a comfortable place to do so. And this week’s slide: STRATO-LOUNGER, AN AMERICAN LIVING ROOM, 1957, would be the perfect place to regroup, refresh and collect yourself

The warmest of wood paneled walls, bright floral print draperies and an excessive overhead display of knick-knacks sets the tranquil mood. Angled and stacked neatly on the blonde coffee table are Sunset Magazine and Companion for your reading pleasure. On the fireplace mantle an exotic hand carved figurine and a clock so you’ll know what time it is when you wake up or come to – whatever the case may be.

If you want to lie down there’s a big boxy red sofa with not one, but two over-stuffed print pillows that you can rest your head on while you stare up at that heavy Victorian lamp hanging just above. If you catch a chill, cover up with the crocheted afghan that reminds me of the zigzag stripe t-shirt Charlie Brown always wears.

But if you want to be ultra-comfortable, sit down, push back as your feet rise in your beautiful brand new vinyl Strato-lounger recliner. It’s so new the plastic wrapper/label is still on it! Quite a bit of heavy duty engineering went into the development of this stylish foam-stuffed vinyl chair – all in the name of comfort. Everyone in the family wants to experience it. And the most exciting thing of all is that it’s pink, and it goes with everything well. This is perfect d�cor to relax by!

Here’s to Strato-loungers and YOU

A �57 Chevy convertible, ’55 Buick and ’57 Dodge drive down the Main Street USA of Las Vegasland. A ’58 Edsel, with that famous horse collar grille, is parked on the left. Yes, just like downtown Los Angeles, Las Vegas reminds me of Disneyland.

I took a trip to Las Vegasland this week with National Public Radio’s Day to Day show to give listeners a tour and comment on the Jackpot city as it celebrates its 100th anniversary this Sunday May 15th. After a turbulent touchdown our first stop was lunch at the Peppermill Coffee Shop. I ordered an Americana classic – the Chef’s Salad, blue cheese on the side, please. The spectacular 70s-80s Tomorrowland d�cor is done in what I have decided are Las Vegasland’s official colors – hot pink, purple and red. The Peppermill’s Fireside Lounge is ultra space age. Sunken conversation pits surround flaming water fountains. Words cannot describe.

Completely stuffed with julienned meat and cheese, I then pointed the direction to the Liberace Museum. Liberace is the Queen of Las Vegasland, (Elvis is the King). Liberace’s cars, costumes and pianos are almost as interesting as the docents, who are all aging Liberace fanatics. I asked if they fight over who loves him the most. No. But one claims to feel his “vibration of love.

From there it was time to see Las Vegasland’s newest realm, the Wynn Resort. First thing you notice from the outside (besides the very 80s architecture) is the palm tree-less landscape. It’s a Sherwood Forest of pine trees. Inside the colorful decor is Mardi Gras meets Mad Hatter’s Tea Party meets Fred and Ginger meets Mario Andretti. A fractured paisley motive repeats in mosaic tile floors, thick carpets and bas relief bits in every direction. A promenade of smart sun-lit shops leads to an interior garden of trees hung with giant floral spheres. The “there” there is a designer waterfall in the middle of the pine trees.

After a chewy lobster ravioli dinner and a thrill-ride cab ride we were front booth center at the Tropicana for the oldest and most glamorous spectacle on the strip, Folies Berg�re. This classic topless showgirl revue has been titillating gawkers since 1959. I gasped repeatedly and so will you – hopefully the next time you visit the capitol of American Kulture with a K – as in kitsch – Las Vegasland

Here’s to 100 years of Las Vegas and YOU

“SEE 3 STATES and 7 COUNTIES – SOUVENIRS – POST CARDS- VISITORS WELCOME- FREE TELEPHONE”

When I first glanced at this slide I thought I was looking at an old docked river boat. But no! After a closer look I discovered that the Lincoln Highway’s most famous landmark is a fake. It looks so real; those smoke stacks so convincing. There’s even a lighthouse.

The charming novelty hotel was built in 1932 on a picture-perfect spot where motorists stopped and enjoyed the view of the beautiful Allegheny Mountains. During the ship’s heyday there were many notable guests including Mommie Dearest, Joan Crawford. The ship thrived through the 1930s; after the Pennsylvania Turnpike opened in 1940 business drastically declined.

After years of sinking business the hotel was sold in 1978. The new owners thought they would take the theme to the extreme and rename the ship Noah’s Ark – so they did. Sadly they couldn’t make a go of it either and the hotel closed again just a few years later. As it fell into even further disrepair "Save Our Ship" efforts were organized by Lincoln Highway history buffs and local preservationists. After years of hard work and dedication their dreams of having the hotel re-open went up in smoke. On October 26th, 2001 at 2:30 AM, the once grand Ship burned to the ground. Cause of the blaze unknown.

Today, there’s not much to see there except "3 states and 7 counties”

Here’s to you and The S.S. GRAND VIEW SHIP HOTEL

Mom is looking at the scenery with binoculars and the little girl waves to daddy who’s taking the picture. They are very stylish people traveling in a two-tone turquoise and white 1956 Plymouth Belvedere and a pink and white Dalton Trailer.

Of course I love old trailers!!! It’s amazing just how many old trailer courts and parks are still out there. A while back on the way to an estate sale in Montebello I happened upon Harmony Lane, a gem of an old trailer court on Garvey Avenue in Monterey Park (next to Mc Donald’s on the north side of the street). It was all overgrown, real spooky and looked like no one lived there. So I ignored the NO TRESPASSING signs and drove right on in like I owned the place. The abandoned ’30s and ’40s trailers were astonishing. They were stylish and streamlined. Some even had porthole windows. As I turned the corner there was by far the grandest and most fashionable ’50s “long, long” trailer I have ever seen. It was beautifully finished with a wide band of gleaming stainless steel embossed with stripes running the length of the whole thing.

I sat there stunned, not believing what I was seeing when out of nowhere appeared a lovely lady with loads of pancake make-up, lashes smothered with black mascara and a slept-on stack of dippity-dooed bleach blond curls sashayed up to the car. Speaking just above a whisper, she said, "Hi I’m Joy."

Turns out Joy grew up there and her parents have owned the place since 1939. “They’re real old now and I can no longer take care of it.” She said. What’s going to happen to the trailers? She and all her brothers and sisters "just can’t agree on that." So for now they’re just sitting there.

If YOU love trailers the way I love trailers, you might want to add "Travel Trailer: A Visual History of Mobile America" by Bryan Burkhart, Phil Noyes and Allison Arieff to your library. It’s TRAILERIFIC!!

Here’s to you and to trailers!!

I wasn’t raised in a religious household. But I do enjoy a good nun sighting. Always have and always will. My parents taught me to live by the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. And so I do.

This week with all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the passing of one Pope and the selection of another I thought it was time to experience some religion. So I headed over to The NOHO Ceramics Gallery at 5140 N. Lankershim Blvd., in North Hollywood to see a spectacular exhibit of vintage amusement park artwork brought to us by the fine folks at the Los Angeles Toy, Doll & Amusements Museum. Featured are very stylized 1959 vintage illustrations of a religious theme park, called Bible Storyland, which was designed but never built. It was going to open in 1961, in of all places, Cucamonga, California. Judging by the spellbinding renderings on display, this place would’ve been heavenly to say the least.

The main investors, two of which were Jack Haley, the tin man in the Wizard of Oz, and Donald Duncan, inventor of the Duncan Yo-Yo, clearly had high hopes. The Disneyland-scale park was to be laid out in the shape of a heart. Israel, Babylon, Egypt, Rome and the Garden of Eden were to be the “lands”. Imagine that! Proposed attractions included a dark ride called Adventures in Tut’s Tomb, where we would’ve ridden on little cars shaped like pharaohs. The Camel Caravan – think Disneyland’s mule train – would’ve had us riding camels, yes camels, past pyramids. The Chariot Races could’ve been a great thrill ride. And the Carousel of Mythical Beasts looks like it would’ve been more than bizarre.

But, as fate would have it, Bible Storyland wasn’t to be. However, just seeing these spectacular and colorful renderings of what might’ve been was a religious experience of the highest order. Amen.

Here’s to you and to Bible Storyland

A deadpan doll anchored by twisted crepe paper is the centerpiece of a little West Covina girl’s birthday party table. The doll has a yarn ‘fro. The little girl wears Bette Page bangs and a bow on top of her head. Cupcakes, each with a single candle, are served. A yellow chrome dinette set and California Pottery, displayed in a classic mid-century modern china cabinet, make a colorful and stylish backdrop. The dishes were manufactured by Metlox and Free Form is the name of the spectacular futuristic pattern.

Pottery production began in Southern California in the early 1900s. By the ’40s the colorful dishes and decorative knick-knacks from local manufacturers such as Metlox, were a common sight in homes all over the Unites States. Due to restrictions on imports during World War II, the pottery business flourished and by the late ’40s there were more than eight hundred pottery manufacturers in Southern California. After the war, when import restrictions were lifted, a flood of imports from Japan and Italy flooded the market. By the late ’50s many pottery factories were unable to compete with the lower-cost imports and shut their doors.

Back in the mid ’80s I was lucky enough to score a Free Form plate on a thrift shopping spree in Pomona. How exciting! The space age motif inspired my imagination and made my spirit soar. Over the last twenty years I’ve eaten off of it a zillion times. Of all my mismatched dinner plates it’s always been my favorite.

A few weeks ago I decided to treat myself to a cleaning lady. Why should I be mopping the floor and scrubbing the toilet when I have stacks of slides to sort? A few days later she was doing the dishes in the kitchen and I was gasping away at vintage slides in the living room when all of the sudden – a crash-bang-crackle like I’ve never heard before. I rushed in the kitchen to investigate and there it was – my cherished Free Form plate by Metlox, shattered on the floor in a hundred pieces. "It just s-s-s-slipped out of my h-h-h-hand" she sobbed. There is now one less Free Form dinner plate in the world.

Cheers to you and California Pottery

Strung pennants blowing in the breeze, an Arden Ice Cream truck passing by and a Ford convertible parked at the curb provide a perfect backdrop for Los Angeles’s most playful architectural icon. The famous fast food stand is world class. There is no better place in the known universe to enjoy a hot dog.

There are many architectural treasures in this ‘ol world of ours. But few make my spirit soar to the moon and back again like this Land-of-the-Giants scale hot dog! Chipped and peeling paint has never been so charming; dripping mustard so appetizing and a pop-up candy-striped awning so eye-catching. The petit neon sign is the perfect crowing touch.

The Tail ‘o the Pup opened in 1946. It was built in the tradition of the legendary Brown Derby Restaurant and many other buildings in Southern California shaped like things. In the mid-80s when the property the hot dog sat on, at 311 N. La Cienega, was slated for redevelopment we almost lost the little gem. But thankfully a new site was found, 329 San Vincente, just above Beverly where it remains open for business to this day. Nearly sixty years later little has changed.

Speaking of hot dogs, they are an interesting food item. Pulverized animal parts injected into a casing. What are they really made out of anyway? And how closely are they related to the other food matter made form pulverized animal parts, Jell-O? They have so many names, more names than any other food item. Call them weenies, frankfurters, franks, dogs, links or as they are called here “pups.” And they come in so many sizes too – foot-long to cocktail weenies. And some even plump when you cook ‘em! Let’s have a big weenie roast party

This slide is without a doubt one of my all-time favorite finds.

For those of your who have been to one of my slide shows, chances are you may remember Mary-Charlotte. Who could forget this magical mirror image of that strawberry blond hair, peaches-and-cream complexion and cigarette dangling from those red painted lips? And the cut roses and squeezed lemons that provide color to the otherwise very blue bathroom that she has cleverly turned into a makeshift bar. Well, after all, it’s Easter Sunday and cocktails will be served.

This blessed Sunday let Mary-Charlotte be an inspiration to you. Bless the bunch at your Easter brunch by offering what she does — Tequila and Kahlua with a squeeze. Call it the “Teqlua” Sunrise, and offer it with a squeeze of course. Be generous with them and, oh, whatever you do, don’t forget to tell them “it’s Mary-Charlotte’s recipe.”

Happy Easter!!

With the exception of the two docked steamships, The S.S. Catalina, which provided transportation to and from the island until 1975, and the S.S. Avalon — until 1951, Catalina looks virtually the same today as it is in this slide taken nearly sixty years ago. I was just there yesterday – and what an adventure I had. I arrived about 11am in a very big and speedy boat. My tour guide, a life-long island resident, was as entertaining as he was fact-filled.

We hopped in his charming 1970 VW Bus and we were off to our first destination – lunch at the Airport-in-the-Sky. As we passed by the Wrigley Mansion he told me that the chewing gum magnate bought the island in 1919. I asked if any of Wrigley’s heirs were still around. “Oh yes, and they’re very nice people but – as a tour guide I have a rule,” he said, “I never point out Wrigley family members or celebrities.”

As the sputtering of the VW Bus and beauty of the ultra green hills and valleys of the island’s innards were lulling me into a is-this-a-dream?-state, the bus stalled and was pronounced dead. With just about four or five miles to go we decided to hike the rest of the way to the airport. We hadn’t gone fifty feet when a mud splashed SUV comes around the curve going the opposite direction. The driver and passenger and my guide greeted each other like old friends and the next thing I know the SUV turned around and we were climbing in the backseat for a ride.

In the front passenger seat sat an elderly woman with a big floppy hat. Even as she bounced up and down riding on the bumpy road I could tell she was a woman with dignity and great poise. I got this weird feeling like she was royal or something.

We arrived at the airport, said thank you, bye-bye and then enjoyed the best corned beef and cabbage I’ve ever had. We hiked back to the dead VW Bus, got a rope tow back into town, toured the Casino and art deco movie place and had the grand tour of Avalon.

As I thanked my guide just before getting on the boat to return home, he said “Well, I am going to break my rule. The people that picked us up and gave us the ride to the airport were Wrigleys, the grand matriarch of the family and her son.”

Here’s to the Wrigleys, their gum and Catalina