Robert Parker. And my favorite author. And an upcoming author.

As for ROBERT PARKER, I walked up to Sunset Boulevard to check out Mystery Pier Books and oh boy, I’m glad I did! 

I was allowed to hold (but not photograph) a first edition of Parker’s second Spencer novel, God Save the Child.  So cool!  I had never seen that edition or cover!

Do remember what a big Parker fan I am. 

There was this posting in which Stephen King and I hung out together at a Parker signing. 

And this posting in which I had drinks with Parker at his home where I stole something.

All that said, I’m not a big fan of rare books.  I don’t get it.  What I care about are the words, no matter what year they were printed onto what pages or how those pages were bound. 

The thrill of seeing God Save the Child today was not only that its cover was new to me (I like it!), but more so the memories it caused; the book having been edited and designed in 1974 by the good folks at Houghton Mifflin, working out of One Beacon Street (Boston) just down the street from 34 Beacon Street where I was then working for Little Brown.  God, but those were great days and great publishing! (I sound like such an old fart.)

For me, even the autographed and personalized books that one gathers throughout a career in the industry are not about the damn editions, but about having had the good fortune of working with good people like Tracy Kidder, Lincoln Peirce, Kim Dower, Berke Breathed, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Jeff Kinney, Yousuf Karsh, Ansel Adams, Herman Wouk, Allan Jators, and others I’ve written about in this blog.

I walked out of Mystery Pier Books and into, right next door, Book Soup.  And wow!  What a great bookstore!  To my mind, better than anything in New York.  Seriously! 

Great stock, smart staff, and the ambience deserving of the nearly sacred (to me) stuff sold there.

As for (note link) MY FAVORITE AUTHOR, like always, they had plenty of his stuff.  Go Max, go!

As for that (note link) UPCOMING AUTHOR, there wasn’t much (none) of his stuff in stock. 

But having just had his first book published in 1989, I’m sure things will kick in soon enough.

So with a bit of a bruised writer’s ego, I headed home.

And on the way, ran into the offices of Fox News .

Very cool, then very depressing

I was just “walking around” in LA, not really “going for a walk,” when I looked up and WOW!

There on a theater marquee(!) was my favorite poet, publishing colleague, and good friend, Kim Dower!

VERY COOL!

Yep! I know the former City Poet Laureate of West Hollywood! 

I just had to take a photo. 

Or two.

Really, you should read Kim’s work (I’m rarely pushy like that). 

Poke around on her site where many of her poems are posted (and/or read). 

Or better yet, buy her collections!

Her words are accessible, insightful, clever, touching, funny, inspiring, and confirming. 

Kim somehow puts what I’m feeling and thinking and all confused about, into words.

Oh, and she’s got a son, Max, just like I have a son, Max. :)

Try one!

Kim is also “Kim-from-LA,” the best book publicist I’ve known in my 40 years of marketing books.

Remember the joy our publishing team had pushing T. Berry Brazelton onto the New York Times bestseller list (this post)? 

It was Kim who booked that amazing in-between-the-holidays author tour.

Speaking of Brazelton, I learned this week that his great, one-of-a-kind, genius editor, Merloyd Lawrence recently died.

Heartbreaking, and VERY DEPRESSING.

As an old publishing friend said to me, yesterday, “They’re calling our row.” 

Sigh.

I went wandering

...and ended up at the Mayor of Los Angeles’ official residence. 

Every LA mayor since Tom Bradley (1973 to 1993) has lived here. 

I introduced myself as LA’s newest resident (and potential voter!), figuring the current mayor would appreciate that. 

The security staff thought otherwise.

Bradley

Hanging out at the mayor’s

Then I paused across the street from the fancy entrance to Fremont Place, a privately-owned neighborhood of really expensive and really exclusive homes.  We’d buy our new LA home here but don’t want to embarrass our middle-class friends who might visit.  Really.  That’s the only reason.

Far right was Mohammad Ali’s

Among those who lived here were King C. Gillette, the razor manufacturer, who built #100 Fremont Place;

boxer Mohammad Ali and his wife lived at Fremont Place #55;

and actress Mary Pickford once rented number #56 Fremont Place.

And department store heir Adolph Sieroty and his wife Bertha hosted Albert Einstein for dinner at # 85. 

That reminds me!

Meanwhile, I bumped into the Wilshire Ebell Theater, home to the Ebell Club, a philanthropic women’s organization founded in 1894. 

Amelia Earhart did her final speaking engagement at the Wilshire Ebell Theater before flying off to her death.

So I kept my mouth shut, took a photo, and headed for poolside at the place where we’re currently hiding from the deadly Rocco family.

 This LA living is tough, right?

Highland Gardens Hotel

Remember my post about how Sandy Koufax’s Tropicana Motel turned into one big rock ‘n’ roll party and crash pad?

Well, I know a guy, Bob Holmes, who came to LA in 1983 with his band, Rubber Rodeo, to record an album.

Bob, of course, wanted to stay at the Tropicana.  But it was booked. 

He ended up instead at the Highland Gardens Hotel in Hollywood.

So I put on my ugly walking shoes, knee support, and Pirates cap, and walked to the Highland Gardens Hotel at 7047 Franklin Avenue.

The hotel (first known as the Hollywood Landmark Hotel) opened in the mid 1950's and quickly became home to many famous Hollywood stars.  Its over 70 rooms including one, two and three bedroom suites, have been home away from home for many, including: 

The Rat Pack

Jim Morrison

Janis Joplin

Jefferson Airplane

Moody Blues

Creedence Clearwater Revival

Joe Crocker Group

And, of course, Bob’s Rubber Rodeo

The Rat Pack Joe Crocker Rubber Rodeo

Now here’s the awful thing. 

Janis Joplin died here, at age 27, in Room 105, on October 4, 1970, from a heroin overdose. 

I’m not sure if one can book her room.   

And why would you want to?  Right? 

Some sources say you can book it (see photo below).

Other sources say that long ago the hotel reordered the room numbers so that nobody no longer knew the actual room. 

(Hey, I invented that!  Back when I was ducking bill collectors.)

Now here’s the cool thing. 

In 1983, when Bob (the guy I know) stayed here, he went to the hotel swimming pool and there was Michelle Pfeiffer.  The early 1980s version. 

Michelle Pfeiffer poolside with a guy I don’t know

So Bob recorded an album in LA and lived at the Highland Garden Hotel for two months. But the really BIG DEAL was, to quote Bob, “Michelle Pfeiffer in a bikini within 10 yds of my skinny pale shape with a bad mullet is seared into my brain.”

Heading back from the hotel to our undisclosed location (yep, I’m still on the run from Detective Rocco — we’re at our third address since fleeing to LA), I walked along the Hollywood Walk of Fame and holy smokes(!), I bumped into the star that honors my old acting buddy, Paul Newman (recall my Celebrity Maps post).

It was a good walk. :)

July 28, 2022

As you know, Sally and I recently moved to Los Angeles.  We bought a condo, movers delivered our stuff several days ago, and we've been non-stop unpacking since then.

The place looks confused and uncertain.  Yet promising. 

It takes time. 

And reminds me of how moving into a new place is like developing a manuscript. 

You see something.  You get a notion. 

You imagine the possibility, maybe even put it to paper. Like an outline.

You take a deep breath, nod a confirming “yes,” and go for it. 

You toss all of your very best at it. 

And when you pause for a first time, oh lord, what a mess! 

Will this work?  Maybe. 

Maybe not.

You start with the big stuff, like the furniture, and paint or wallpaper, maybe the window treatments.

They bring character to the place.

You move stuff around. 

And in the evenings, you move the same stuff again.

You get rid of things.

Some which worked so well in the old place.  But not here.

There are those which hurt to toss.

And a few you put in storage, just in case.

The light in one room is not as expected.

What you were certain would go there, does not.

It takes a while.  (Come on, come on.  Discipline.)

At last, you let go.

You hang colorful artwork in a room. 

Oops.

Now you have to move this.

And that. 

Yet, with confidence and work and discipline, the mess lessens. 

It starts to take shape. 

And much of what it first promised, it no longer does. 

It’s better!

You find a place for that old postcard, and a childhood toy.

And the knickknack that means nothing to anybody else, looks great on the bathroom shelf. 

Perfect!

THE END

 (The words above are a perfect example. They need another eight days of moving in.)

Oh, and this is cool.  Frank’s moving back!

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