I grew up in Monrovia, 'The Gem City of the Foothills.' It was featured on the cover of TIME Magazine as it represented the most exemplary of the average American city/town. At the time, I think the population was around 50,000.
I don’t think it’s changed much, just new facades, sidewalks, street islands, but the most amazing thing to me, having been away for many years at a time is that the vegetation is gigormous. It is like a dinosaur tropical forest compared to the desert of my childhood. Tropical vegetation growing in the desert as the result of stolen water. Well, that’s another story, 'Chinatown.'
Living in the foothills adjacent to the Angeles National Forest, I was afforded a child’s delight.
One time, I got stuck, though. My friend, an older boy, ran up the side of a steep incline. I thought I could do as he did, but I only made it halfway. Then, I froze, and clung to the side of the hill. The neighbors called my brother who swooped me up in one arm like Superman.
My big brother went to High School with Leslie Van Houton. She is still in prison for her activities in the Manson Family’s murders. I don’t think she will ever be paroled. My brother said she was just one of the girls, back at Monrovia High School, circa 1965.
In my early teens I was allowed to go hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains, behind our house. I would go with my best friends and boyfriends on amazing adventures. Once, we went so far in that there was a great, steep crevasse in which large foliage had grown for many years. A stream came through it and the sun on the canopy warmed an unusual environment in which vines, trees and birds were in abundance. The air was particularly fresh there.
Often we would break and/or turn around at the top of the mountain, where a great vista of the county was presented. It was often windy, and dry as the hot desert. On a clear day, we could see Catalina Island.
I was long puzzled by a bright, shimmering light, a glow of a good size that appeared west of us. It could not be a body of water-there was no such thing, there. Finally, it occurred to me, after a visit there, that it was the parking lot of the Santa Anita Racetrack in Arcadia. I believe there were more than a few kisses on that little mountain.
As I grew up, I began to appreciate more of the gold of Los Angeles in the form of art, music, cultural infinity, and so I visited art museums and galleries, jazz and rock clubs, Westwood movie openings, reparatory theaters (will someone please reopen the Rialto in Pasadena for the sake of God?), small stage performances, etc. My mother would join me for the Greek and Jewish Festivals, Japanese Fairs, and the like. We’d visit Chinatown, marvel at the food in the windows and just drive around for fun.
Later, I would go to the Hollywood Bowl and see Joni Mitchell, Quincy Jones, The Manhattan Transfer, Cleo Laine, the L.A. Philharmonic, etc. Absolute wonder.
Another highlight was seeing Stan Getz, Chet Baker, Leroy Vinegar and Max Roach in Hermosa Beach. It was a smoky room in those days. As it should be.
I will always love El Lay. If you’ve never taken the time, I would strongly recommend a picnic on the lawn of the Huntington Library in San Marino, with someone special, on one of those warm romantic sunny spring days that can happen any time of year in Los Angeles.
