Stepped outside after lunch and found Colt Luger having a smoke beneath the four big vents on the north side of the building. Since he’s in maintenance, and knows this colossus up and down, I asked what they were for. One of them, I remember, is the vent for the backup diesel generators that power the sprinklers. Water comes in from the city at a certain pressure, then they boost it and split it into two: the fire suppression system, and the water that comes out of the taps. I mention this because I learned a new term: the water from the taps is domestic water. Which implies that fires are put out by imported water, although of course that’s not the case.

I will wait the rest of my life for the opportunity to talk to someone in building management and ask if they split the water to fire and domestic. I am confident that day will come.

I have a piece coming up in the paper - and no, I still don't forgive any of them - about old unlamented buildings. We always boo-hoo over the landmarks, but what if the curious unloved and unsung structures? I found this detail from a picture of the old First Federal. I had to clip and enlarge and fix. I just love it.

Do prefer this world . . . or its replacement?

I'm split. I'll take either. There's a more interesting downtown behind the first one, though. The picture might look dark and ominous, but it wasn't - just a few feet away were the bright and colorful windows of Woolworth's, and to the left, a huge wall of granite with a two-story clock face. There were luncheonettes everywhere, and you could get a hambuger and a cup of coffee, or maybe just a cup of coffee, or perhaps a hamburger, with some coffee afterwards to go with your pie. A world of opportunity and choice!

You'll have to read Saturday's website to see the full picture. Or not.

Other than that, a good Monday, and a decent enough end to a month the back of which I am glad to see. I felt the same leaving February, too. 2025 has my attention but not my affection.

I know it's ridiculous to regard calendrical demarcations as having any meaning, but we do it anyway.

I haven't watched a Dragnet in a while, because I burned out on them. The only vintage TV I've watched has been opening credits, because that's about all I can take of the ancient sitcoms. The falseness, the tropes, the laff tracks. Oh no they're going to find out he's hiding a Martian! Whew, dodged that one. Oh no they're goimg to find out he's hiding a Genie! Whew that was close.

This was one of the last Dragnet pix I snapped. This is the city, but I'll be damned if I know where.

You in the third row, with your hand up?

"Wilshire, sir!"

Very good. And the cross street? No? Let me tell you, this is the second time I’ve gone up and down Wilshire looking for a spot. Or down and up, although that doesn’t sound right. I find many interesting things, but never what I was looking for. You'd think that tower on the left and the trio of identical buildings on the right would help. Can't find it.

It's never a wasted trip, because I find other things.

Late International Style, Lever-House type, with that overhang they’d come to adore for a while. I love it.

This was a surprise:

The Ahmanson Bank and Trust. 1959. “Dual mosaics at the front entrance depict scenes of two parents enjoying nature with their children.”

The back has some stained glass windows. On the side:

It made the papers when it was finished. Rightly so! An idiosyncratic piece of modernism.

Moving down the street . . . uh

Oh, it's art. Old disused streetlights. They are, or were, next to this. I had no idea, not being a Los Angeleno.

It's a museum. Or rather, it was. Ripped down in favor of this overpass-amoeba:

And that's a pity. While the original might not seem particularly special, I'm now a big fan, in retrospect. It was pure perfect 60s modernism. Look at that thing, floating on pools of water.

Down the street some more . . . whoa

Can you guess what that was?

It was . . .

		A department store. What a world we had.

It’s 1949.

These are from the Farm Journal magazine I bought at a postcard show a while ago. Will be they be particularly rural? Yes and no. The Farm-specific ads tend to congregate in the back. Otherwise we’re selling as normal.

HOOT MON

HOOT

The cliche of the thrifty tartan-man must persist into the future for reasons disconnected from its current moral, political, and social state. It was the rule.

You’ll never lose your keys if the fob’s that big. Looks like you’d poke a hole in your purse trying to get it in.

You’re dang right some people noticed what kind of car you had when you came to town. Of course they did.

"Paid him a fiver to chase down a guy wearing a suit, running down the middle of the road. Danged if I knew what he was doing there, but I thought we'd all get a kick out of it."

And goodbye everything else, too, if you take a deep breath! Potassium cyanate.

Scientists have been laboring for years in bright, modern labs, attempting to improve the cake situation for Mr. And Mrs. America - nay, for the whole world. Sometimes it’s not what you aim for, it’s what you hit while getting there. New cake discovery!

They are not explicit about the exact nature of this epochal discovery, are they? Just that it's lighter.

Personally, I prefer it thicker. You're eating cake, you should know you're eating cake.

Or, try a natural version that does nothing, and actually tastes like a condiment to the hoppers

Who wouldn’t want to kill that ugly thing? I remember the hoppers from the farm, and they were huge. Big revolting crunchy alien nightmares.

Here’s an ad for a product you can’t buy, because we control the distribution, but all makes for seamless communications, so please don’t break us up with anti-trust laws, that would be stupid, and your kids won’t get these good jobs and when you pick up the phone out there at the farm there won’t be an answer and you’ll suddenly feel horribly alone, in peril.

Yeah but Mr. B. Wise looks like a bit of a diq

Man, that thing’s huge! It’s like a nuclear reactor! We’ll have to get it in the barn somehow, but I’ll be switched if I know what to do once I stop exultin’ with the little woman.

What, these two? Oh - the citrus fruits.

Yes, sounds nice. Wife and I were down there once. Looked at some land. Didn’t buy, wish I had, but the land I bought here, the back 40 from the Anderson place, I’m putting in rye. Anyway, the juice gives me tiny sores on my tongue sometimes, so I don’t know why I’d want to live down there anyway.

A bounteous Tuesday. Thank you for your visit! Now it's off to Eddie's. See you there.