An Evening With Norman Lloyd

I'd love to say that I spent the evening having a little dinner and being regaled, just a few of us, by Mr. Lloyd, actor, producer, director, college of Orson Welles and John Horseman, this past Saturday. But, alas, though I was regaled, and charmed, by this entertainment legend who just reached his centenary year, I was one of a substantial crowd in the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica. I could not have him to myself to hear his stories.

In one five foot seven or so package, slightly bent, wearing a natty pair of gray pants and a double breasted blazer, is one powerhouse man of the old Hollywood industry, who for all of his age maintains a twinkle in his eye and a talent for telling tales of the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and even beyond. Whew!

There are two things I love about Los Angeles. The weather is a big one. The other is the existence of what used to be called the "Dream Factory".  Much of the film and television industry has emigrated to locales like Vancouver, but much still remains, and, one thing you have here is the ability to go and hear actors, writers, directors, producers talk about some of the greatest movies ever made. I have heard tales from Jack Lemmon, Shirley McClain, Janet Leigh, Charlton Heston, Elmer Bernstein, Carl Reiner, to name just a few. Every time there is both a pang of joy and a pang of potential loss, because as these folks age and die (as so many in this list already have), we can no longer hear the stories of those who were there in person. We do have archives, video, internet, audio.  That's great, but it isn't the same.

So, how did this all come about. I got an e-mail from Len Speaks and he said that Saboteur, one of Alfred Hitchcock's early American films circa 1942, (he did films in England before that) was running at the Aero, and Mr. Lloyd was going to appear and talk about his small, but seminal, first acting role, in the film. The movie starred Robert Cummings, who for some unknown reason, I never favored, though he was a fine enough actor. So, I had never seen the movie, despite my love of Hitchcock's work. But I knew of Norman Lloyd. For those who love the small screen, he was Dr. Auschlander in the long running TV show "St. Elsewhere" between 1983 and 1988. But he also produced, and directed the Alfred Hitchcock Hour and Presents. I mentioned Orson Welles. Lloyd was involved with the Mercury Theatre, you know the one that did the historic, "War of the Worlds" on radio in 1939. He called Hitchcock "Hitch".  Now, come on, that is downright cool!

As it happened I had just watched a movie in which he appeared in 1989, "Dead Poets Society" as the unyielding headmaster to Robin Williams' "Carpe Diem" English teacher, and listened to his memories of doing that movie with director Peter Weir. So, though I was feeling lazy about going out that evening, I said, "Sure."  And boy am I glad!

The man tell stories, and remember every detail, even what someone was eating during some momentary encounter. He told one story of Welles flicking expensive whiskey on his actors while they were on stage. He talked about meeting Welles many years after they had parted ways, and receiving a bear hug from the great man, as Welles said, "You son of a bitch!" with great love. 

The thing is, what I saw Saturday night was an ordinary man who did extraordinary things. As he talked I saw my dad in him. My dad would be 96 right now, so he and Mr. Lloyd shared a part of long gone time. Both were born on the East Coast, both sought out education and learned to speak and write and think well. They both went to New York University. I could imagine my dad, also an amazing raconteur, and, in his youth and even older age, having a matinee idol look, having taken a slightly different turn in his life. Dad had a chance to go into the entertainment industry. friend of his worked for NBC after the war, and offered to help dad get in there in some capacity, but dad was unsure of himself in those days, a lingering effect of his own background, and he declined. I remember thinking, "It could have been you Dad." Instead, it was Norman Lloyd with his gestures so much like my father, his love of women (when photos were being taken Mr. Lloyd was delighted to have his taken with a young woman and he beamed), and his ability to hold you in thrall over some encounter years in the past. I felt close to Mr. Lloyd and my father, at once.

The extraordinary things Norman Lloyd did are interesting to the ordinary me, a student of the entertainment industry that I once hoped to become part of as a television writer.  Like my dad, I was afraid, and chose a more certain, though not necessarily safer, occupational path, that of a lawyer. So, I admire those who took a path less well traveled, like Norman Lloyd and who have been the source of many wonderful and still lasting products of their talents and imagination.

Oh, and the movie was good too. Get it on DVD or Netflicks.

Things that Aren't Here Anymore, the Djinn Version

If you watch PBS as I do when my 400 other channels seem to be devoid of anything to watch that doesn't involve blood or sex or explosions causing either, then you might have seen the documentaries by Ralph Story, "Things That Aren't Here Anymore" and "More Things that Aren't Here Anymore" focusing on attractions, stores, celebrity haunts, family entertainment venues that were popular in the 30s, 40's, 50s, 60's and 70s in Los Angeles and its environs that are no longer part of its kitschy landscape. You know, like the Brown Derby on Wilshire Boulevard, or Tail of the Pup that used to be around La Cienega and Beverly, the Garden of Allah on the Corner of Crescent Heights and Sunset where the stars would covet and cavort with one another clandestinely. Oh, and Schwabs, also on Sunset, where Lana Turner was said to have been discovered.

I was driving along the other day and it occurred to me that since I came to Los Angeles in 1981, I too have seen many a Los Angeles venue pass on to it great reward, often to be replaced by a banal, square strip mall or banal, square apartment building named after the place it supplanted.

Speaking of Schwab's that is one of the locations that was disappearing just as I arrived in La La land.



Alas, when I saw it, it did not look like this.  It looked more like


  this and it was about to become one of those large malls, now housing movie theatres (albeit quite a good one, Sundance), and Crunch and Starbucks and the like. The stars and the crowds who followed them were long gone.

Another location, deteriorated in Dickensian fashion, was the Original Spanish Kitchen, but when Ii moved into my Fairfax District neighborhood, it still was an extant landmark.




It looked like this, decaying and the source of many a tale of its demise, for twenty years after my arrival in Los Angeles. What I heard was that the last remaining member of the original family that owned the land refused to touch it (leaving all the furniture and appurtenances exactly as it had been) after it closed abruptly in the early 1960s. Only when she died was it able to be in any way altered. There was one or more movies about the place, all speculating on what REALLY had happened (and naturally a sordid tale) to cause a successful restaurant to close overnight. Assuming any of the rumors were true, she must have died, as the space was ultimately made into a Spa. The only thing partially preserved was the sign off the top right of the picture. They kept the first three letters.

My very first experience at a trendy Los Angeles restaurant was actually several years before I moved here. It was 1977 and I had a week's vacation from law school in New York. I had not yet learned how to drive and so I was squired about by a friend (hello Dennis) who had a fellowship at USC. One of the first trips was down the 10, to the Pacific Coast Highway and then to Malibu, for dinner at the Sea Lion. If you were a fan of Johnny Carson, you might remember a skit he did on his show about a particularly bad storm that caused a wave to go right through one of those ocean view windows. That trip to Malibu was what sold me on California.  While the old Sea Lion isn't there anymore, the spot is still a trendy restaurant, Duke's, an outpost of the Honolulu Dukes. You can wave from one Duke's on this side of the Pacific to the one on Oahu.


One of my favorite things from 1981 to today remains the original Farmer's Market on Third and Fairfax. I can't say it isn't there anymore. It isn't there like it was, and while I have accustomed myself to the Grove (alas, perhaps, more than accustomed myself) that is the primary lure for tourists these days with its upscale shops and attractions, I miss the half that was razed in order to make the Grove.

 This side of the market is the site of the second parking lot and places like Maggiano's and Wood Ranch Grill. It used to house a bevy of kitschy souvenir stores, or should I say, the rest of the kitschy stores including an antique place, and truth be known the upscale David Orgell (now in Beverly Hills solely). To the right of that picture is the original Gilmore adobe, which has survived the Grove.  I was within walking distance of the Market for many years and I would go to the newsstand, buy a Hollywood Reporter (in those days I still thought I'd end up a television writer), and have a couple of slices at Patsy D'Amore. The family came from New York and so these were two pieces of New York pizza heaven.  I am no longer within walking distance, but I still go from time to time to the part that remains of the original market, which was helped financially by the existence of the Grove, buy Entertainment Weekly at the newstand and have a couple of pieces of Patsy's pizza.

I have been writing while at a volunteer job that had moments of quiet, and it's getting to that point where  have to wrap a few things up, so I pause here aware that there are so many other places to mention, that gave so much pleasure and are, in some cases, no longer available to be enjoyed by a new generation.  I will be back with my "More Things that Aren't Around Anymore."  Soon.