Lambiedog

Memorial-stacking causes anguish

 
    Last week's Palisadian-Post featured an impassioned letter to the editor from Peggy Calamaro, the widow of Fino Calamaro, expressing her frustration and dismay at the L.A. Parks Foundation's (a) replacing her husband's memorial bench without consulting her, and (b) affixing to the replacement bench a plaque memorializing another person.                                                                      

As Lambiedog readers may recall, back in August 2010 I surfaced my own concerns about the LA Parks Foundation's thuggish practice of stacking an additional person's memorial plaque on a bench site that was originally dedicated to a single individual.  Ironically, at that time I identified Mr. Calamaro's bench as the only replacement bench that had not yet had an extra 'tenant' added, and quipped that perhaps the Calamaros had paid the Parks Foundation to leave their bench alone.

In fact, soon thereafter a plaque honoring a lady named Marge Lynn Currie was added to the replacement Calamaro bench. Although Mr. Calamaro's plaque remains in the rear of the concrete base of the bench, most people coming to sit on the bench will read it as a bench in honor of Ms. Currie since her plaque is affixed to the front of the bench itself. 

 So, where do things stand now?

 
  May 2009                                August 2010                                January 2012

Most of the original benches have been replaced, and all those that have been replaced have had a plaque memorializing a second person added to the front of the bench, while the original plaque honoring the original dedicatee remains embedded in its original concrete pad, behind the bench.

The only ones of the old benches that have not been replaced (and, therefore, haven't had an additional dedicatee added) are the Anna Walker Steere bench -- probably because it is so close to the edge of the bluff that it was deemed unsafe or pointless to replace, the Stirling bench (no idea why it was spared),  and the Berman-Yoshpe bench, which was perhaps left alone because the dedicators live across the street from the bench and were or would be quick to complain. 

The one new-style bench on the bluff that has only a single 'tenant' -- the Melodie Mooz bench -- did not replace an earlier bench memorial.  Rather, it was an addition to the bluff, in a spot where there had not previously been any bench.  Presumably the Parks Foundation charged substantially for the privilege of single tenancy. [Revision - 2-6-2012:  For some reason I've been ignoring the Saul Stark bench, which was also added around the time of the Mooz bench.]

Perhaps the saddest story is that of the bench honoring David Robbins, who died of epilepsy in 1994.  His parents are gone, and no one is left to stand up for him or complain that the replacement bench bears a shiny plaque honoring Ed and Donna Betts, while the Robbins plaque sits dirty and unattended in the foundation behind the new bench.

A further tragedy here is that, by adding the additional plaques to existing memorials, the Parks Foundation has turned Marge Lynn Currie and the other bench piggybackers into unwitting carpetbaggers.  In fact, Ms. Currie sounds like a lovely person.  Like Mr. Calamaro, she was a resident of the El Medio Bluffs area.  She was a runner and a supporter of Heal the Bay; a children's book author and L.A. Unified School District administrator who grew up in Queens, New York and died young at age 59, after 37 years of marriage and four children.  (In her letter, Mrs. Calamaro took pains to note that she bears no animosity towards the Currie family, who had nothing to do with the decision as to where to situate their memorial plaque:  "I don't blame them; they did not know the history.")

The full text of Mrs. Calamaro's letter to the Palisadian-Post follows:

I write from complete frustration and sadness.  I am one of the victims of the memorial benches that were destroyed along the Asilomar bluffs, which Howard Kern wrote about last week in his letter "Memorials at Asilomar" (December 29).

My husband, Fino, died in 1996 and as a family we decided to put up a bench where we had his service, directly at the end of El Medio on the bluffs.  It is where our whole family has enjoyed many a sunset.  We have lived in the same home since 1961 and all of our family has enjoyed that spot.

About two or three years ago, I got a call from a friend who told me Fino's bench was being bulldozed down.  I couldn't believe it.  I raced down but it was already gone.  I was never ever consulted, nothing.  It took me quite awhile to find out what happened,

A woman who works for the L.A. Department of Recreation and Parks took it upon herself to replace all the benches -- not ever consulting the owners. When I finally spoke with her, she was very uncaring and all she kept saying was she felt the benches were old.  Fifteen years, which is hardly old, and then she kept saying, "Well, what do you want from me?"  I said, "I want my husband's bench back."  She said, "It has been destroyed."

Dear readers, how would you feel?  She did not want this conversation.  I told her I paid quite a lot of money for it and she should reimburse us for his bench.  She did in fact destroy it.  She said fine.  Now the story gets worse.

I can barely go down there knowing it isn't the bench I picked out (which by the way was one of the first down there).  As a family, we decided to grit our teeth and accept the bench she chose.  That is when to my heartbreak I saw she had sold it to some other person.  So now, our bench is dedicated to someone else.  I don't blame them;  they did not know the history.  So now, every time one of my family members goes to think of their father, or one of his many friends goes there, they are sitting on someone else's bench.

I have held this in for such a long time and I have cried so many tears over it.  I hope, dear readers, this doesn't ever happen to you.  

Descent into evil

 

     My trainer was busy sleeping on Saturday morning, so for my workout I joined my owner and Teresa and Janise on Walk #42 of the Secret Stairs book.

    We had expected Walk #42 to be daunting because it was rated a 5, the toughest in terms of challenge.  It turned out also to be daunting because of the sense it provided of exposure to evil.

    The walk took us up Capri and then plunged down into Rustic Canyon to the one-time stronghold of Nazi sympathizers who had set up their estate with its own greenhouse and independent power supply so that they could live hidden in the Santa Monica mountains.  The buildings are in ruins but their outlines are still there, and, adding to the spookiness, now covered with graffiti.

    By the time we ascended the narrow 512-step stairway back up the canyon, we were ready for sunshine.

Wherein I reflect on connection, compassion, and the passage of time

    Walk #35 of the Secret Stairs book was heavy on the religion front.  It took us through an area of Hollywood that had in the twenties been the home of a number of religious movements that had also developed housing for their followers.

  First up was the Vedanta Temple, an attractive if slightly forbidding edifice.  We encountered a foreign gentleman outside who informed us that the Temple includes living quarters for about ten persons.  He stated that he himself had been a guest there for the previous two weeks, but gave no additional context.

From the Vedanta Society we moved on along some steep hills and past some interesting architecture. 

 
    After going up a short flight of stairs, we ended up to my surprise on Alcyona Terrace, right in front of the home that Thomas' friend Daren had lived in when the two of them met as four-year-olds. 

I sat on the steps and reflected on the passage of time. 

     Before it could turn into another Proust moment, we moved on up the street to see a number of buildings all related to the Theosophical Society, an eastern religion whose southern California headquarters, named "Krotona", were located here from 1912 to 1926. 

  The original bungalows and apartments erected for Theosophical Society followers are still there.  The original Krotona building is also now an apartment complex.  We walked in and saw an attractive central courtyard with one lone koi manning a pond.

   
    Thinking that we might bond around the common experience of being pets, I tried to make eye contact with the koi, but I wasn't sure whether he (she?) noticed me.  Koi tend to be inscrutable.

    Leaving the koi, we continued our walk past more former Krotona buildings, and then past a Spanish Revival castle that had once been the home of Barbara Stanwyck. 

    In a yard, we noticed a gorgeous egg sculpture.

    At the end of the loop, we continued on to Gower and walked in the direction of the Hollywood sign to Carmen Place, so that we could stop at the Monastery of the Angels, a Dominican nunnery where Teresa bought some pumpkin bread baked by the sisters. 

    My owner initially cruelly required me to wait outside, but the kind ladies running the gift shop insisted to her that she go back out to get me and carry me inside with her.  You can always trust a religious order to stand up for the small and powerless.

From the archives

        It seems I never published the above photo, taken early last summer.  

     The image, which captures well the gravitas with which my life is conducted, depicts me walking into the family room in the evening. You can see that I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.  In tone it reminds me of the iconic photo of JFK and RFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Westward migration

      There is a significant difference in tone between my morning and evening bluff outings.

     My trip to the bluffs in the morning tends to be solitary and brief, with the sole purpose of excretion before returning home for breakfast.

    ...

    By contrast, my afternoon migration is broadly social and open-ended.  After sometimes stopping off to visit my friend Willy, I fall into what historian Howard Kern calls the 'canine convoy' making its way westward to the bluffs like some great wave of manifest destiny.  

The Berman / Yoshpe bench

 
   This bench is dedicated to the memory of two siblings from a prominent Sacramento Jewish family, the Bermans:  John Alexander Berman and Jessie Antoinette Berman Yoshpe.

    They were the children of William B. and Zetta Berman, who were leaders and founders of such Sacramento Jewish community organizations as the Congregation B'nai Israel, the Sacramento Jewish Federation, and the Sacramento chapters of Bnai Brith, Hadassah and the Zionist Organization of America.

Like her mother and grandmother, Jessie Yoshpe was a leader in the Sacramento Chapter of Hadassah, serving as its president for three years in the early 1980s.  She had two children. A women's book group named in her honor, the Jessie Yoshpe Hadassah Sh'arim Study Group, still meets at the Mosaic Law Synagogue. 

John Alexander Berman was an Oakland doctor and father of six children. 

The memorial bench was erected by Jessie and John's younger sister and brother, Harriet Berman Glaser and Daniel S. Berman, both of whom live in Los Angeles.  Mrs. Glaser lives very near the bluffs park, not far from the Berman/Yoshpe bench.

So here we have a lovely gesture by the siblings of this clearly close-knit family. 

And here, the story would stop, were it not for a curious additional element.  Harriet Berman Glaser's husband, Manny Glaser, this past summer authored a letter to the local paper, which is copied below.  Mr. Glaser's letter, entitled, "Unleashed Dogs Cause Problems on Asilomar," was in response to a letter previously published in the paper entitled, "Yes to Citing Owners with Dogs Off Leash."

Those of us living near the Asilomar bluffs are constantly tormented by people using Asilomar Park as a dog park.  Any day, usually between 4:30 and 7 p.m., these dog owners arrive at the park with perhaps as many as 10 or 12 dogs and proceed to throw them balls or Frisbees and let them race around the park.  All these dogs running about make it impossible for citizens to enjoy the park.

Additionally, homes directly opposite the park also have dogs that bark at the unleashed dogs, making such a racket that the noise is deafening.  The police who infrequently drive by do nothing about these lawbreakers.  These dog owners are oblivious to the signs in the park requiring that dogs be on a leash.

I have to say that Mr. Glaser's criticism seems a bit unfair, as the people who bring their dogs to the bluff are citizens themselves, are bench-appreciators, and are extremely conscientious with regard to their dogs.  The only dog that barks is an elderly dog belonging to one of Mr. Glaser's neighbors.  Yes, this dog does frequently cross the street unaccompanied and bark at anyone on the bluff--whether or not they have a dog with them--to try to get them to throw its ball.  But why would Mr. Glaser tarnish other dog owners with his neighbor's irresponsibility?

    Life is complex.  We're each a mixture of good and bad. Mr. Glaser may not value me or recognize my right to enjoy the bluffs, but his family has created a beautiful memorial to their loved ones.   And, being a dog who turns the other cheek, I appreciate that.

 

Historical reenactment

A dog out doing some routine sniffing....

    

   

shakes his ear...

 

     looks up...

 

...and discovers the bluff.

 

Of all the bluffs in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine

 

Juanito!  

I've just met a dog named Juanito,

And suddenly that name

Will never be the same

To me.

    ...

....

    This dog Juanito appeared at the bluffs tonight.  He had been adopted from the Westside Animal Shelter six days ago, and he's about a year old.   He looks a lot like me, but thinner, and with a big tail that he seems to like to keep tucked under his body.  

    Could Juanito and I be kin?  

Anna Walker Steere

    I was distressed to see cigarette butts and other debris around the bluff memorial to Anna Walker Wilson Steere.  Litter is always offensive but it seems particularly so in the context of this amazing woman.

    Anna "Tony" Walker Wilson was a Lieutenant Colonel and Women's Army Corps (WAC) Staff Director in the European Theater of Operations during World War II.  She commanded 6,500 WACs. In the course of her service she received the Legion of Merit, the French Croix de Guerre and Legion of Honor, and the Order of the British Empire.

    She arrived in England in April 1943 as WAC Staff Director, and held that post until July 1945 when she was returned to Washington for duty with the Army Ground Forces.  She had a B.A. from Pomona, and M.A. from Claremont, and had also done post-graduate work at the University of California.  Her mother lived in Studio City, CA.

    Chapter XXI of this history of the WAC has more information about Colonel Wilson's work in the European theater.

 

    Colonel Wilson is the woman with prematurely white hair pictured in the center of the photo above, taken on August 1, 1944, when she was 34 years old.  In January 1946, a year and a half after the photo was taken, she married Lloyd (or Loyd) Victor Steere, age 47, in Frankfurt, Germany.  Mr. Steere, of Claremont, and a veteran of World War I, was at the time of their marriage the deputy director of the Office of Political Affairs in the Office of Military Government of the United States.  He had previously been acting director of food and agriculture of the United States Group Control Council, and before that Agricultural Commissioner in the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Mr. Steere was an alumnus of Pomona, and also had an MBA from Harvard.  He had two adult sons from an earlier marriage.

    After their marriage, the couple lived in Berlin, where both were stationed.  Later, they lived in Washington D.C. and at some point returned to California.  They resided in Pacific Palisades at the time of Lloyd's death at age 86 in 1985.  Anna subsequently moved to Santa Monica, and died at age 89 in 1999. 

    Mrs. Steere's bluff tribute is engraved with an unusual and understated legend -- "In Loving Memory / Anna Walker Steere /Natural and Generous"-- that alludes to her personal qualities rather than her illustrious military career.  Obviously there was much more to this woman than just her impressive recorded accomplishments.  I'm glad there is a memorial to her at the bluffs.

 

UPDATE 7/1/12:

    We recently received more information about Mrs. Steere from Bill Wilbur of Portal, Arizona, who wrote this nice letter:

Lambie,

A family friend, visiting our ranch, was surprised to hear about Anna Wilson Speere.  Not having a lot of information, other than memories, I set about to bolster my memories.

I was greatly pleased to find your article about Anna Steere.  My father, William Brewster Wilbur, was a lifelong friend of Anna.  The Wilson farm was across the road from the Wilbur farm.  Anna, Lloyd and my father visited often.  After my father became unable to drive himself I would drive him over to Anna’s for visits.  When Anna became blind my father and she would sit out on her spacious patio and my father would describe the vistas of Santa Monica Bay.

One thing your well researched article missed  was her excellence in horsemanship.  In 1947 Anna participated in a Dressage event in Berlin, Germany and won a beautiful cast bronze trophy depicting  Anna on her horse, Csendor.   During one of Dad’s visits Anna gave my father the trophy to keep in perpetuity.  After my father’s death the trophy languished in a closet to be rediscovered by me and brought to our home here in Arizona.  The trophy has a place of honor on our mantle.  (My wife and I too have horses and love to ride.)

Just before Anna’s death she spoke of her numerous picture albums and hoped they would find their way to the Historical Museum in Tulare, California.  Does anyone know of their whereabouts?

We lost touch with Anna’s estate executor and unfortunately I cannot find her name; do you know?

Again, thanks for the wonderful article.  There are people who will love to rediscover the story of a forgotten Tulare native.  If you have any other links on Anna, I’d appreciate them.

Sincerely,

Bill Wilbur,
Portal, Arizona

Remembrance of things past

 

The tea and madeleines took me back....

No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me....

And suddenly the memory revealed itself.  The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Leonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane.  And as soon as I had recognized the taste of the piece of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set to attach itself to the little pavilion opening on to the garden which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated segment which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I used to be sent before lunch, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine.  And as in the game wherein the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little pieces of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch and twist and take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, solid and recognizable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.

    -From Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past, Vol. 1: Swann's Way.