Memoirs of a Beachboy - Growing Up in Manhattan Beach CA

Memoirs of a Beach-boy

Growing Up In Manhattan Beach California

Robert Dwight Marshall

Memoirs of a BeachboyRobert Dwight Marshall

Table of Contents

PREFACE……………………………………… 3

CHAPTER 1 – GROWING UP… 4Early On…………………………… 4The Red Whistle….……… 6Boyhood…………………………… 8Sunday School………………. 10

Staying Alive………………… 11Jailbird……………………………12To Be Continued…….……. 13Staying Healthy…………… 14Getting Around……………… 15

CHAPTER 2 – THE BEACH………. 17The Strand………………….… 18Hanging Out……………….….19Do Grunion Run?…………… 22Short Trips……………..…… 24

CHAPTER 3 - PAYCHECKS…… 26Herald Express……………. 26Little Bavaria………………. 26Horse Meat…………………… 27More Work…..………………. 28The Beat Goes On……... 29

[Font: Comic Sans MS]

CHAPTER 4 – TORA TORA TORA! …30

Infamy………………………………………… 30The Sands of Iwo Jima………….

31

Internment…………………………………. 33

Camouflage…………………………………. 34The Battle of Los Angeles…….

34Big Guns……………………………………….

36Jet Crash….………………………………. 37

Blackout………………………………………. 37Bacon

Grease……………………………… 38

The Green Hornet……………………40

Fighters and Bombers…………….41

CHAPTER 5 – MY CLAN……..……………42

Folks……………..…………………………… 42

Grand Folks………………………………… 43

Halves…………………………………………44

2


Rich Uncle…….…………………………… 46

CHAPTER 6 – GO SEAHAWKS!….….47

Learning My ABC’s……………………47

Being Cool……………………………………

48Staying Put at RUHS………………

49

CHAPTER 7 – GROWING UP………….. 50

EPILOGUE……………………………………………… 51

3


PREFACE

This is a recollection of memories from my early life growing up in Manhattan Beach, California. I hope you will find them to be interesting and humorous.

I’ve put this to paper for the benefit of my wonderful chil-dren: sons David and Adam, daughters Deanna, Julianne, and Cas-sandra, and grandchildren Zachary, Sarah, and Grace. Hopefully future grandchildren will also read it. I certainly hope they all en-joy it, whether now or later in life. When some of my friends read this memoir, they likely will have already heard some of the more interesting stories over past years, probably more than once.

While most of this memoir is written from memory, I used the internet extensively to add facts, interest and flavor; for ex-ample data on the beach area, places of my interest, World War II, and such. I haven’t bothered to reference the links, so look them up on your own; more fun that way! The pictures in this essay are almost exclusively from the internet; excep-tions include photos of me, like this one in 1956, four years after high school graduation.

This memoir covers the first 17 years of my life, and concludes soon after the death of my father in 1952. That’s when I grew up fast.

Robert Dwight Marshall1st Edition August 2008

Revised Edition April 2013

4


1. GROWING UP

Beach life has been immortalized in song by The Beach Boys and stories by Hollywood for decades. It really is a more laid-back existence; maybe not as much as life on a Polynesian island, but close in a few ways. In its earliest days, Manhattan Beach was part of an original Spanish land grant. The beach cities of Manhat-tan, Hermosa and Redondo soon became tourist locations with early hotels, piers, and amusement parks. Re-dondo Beach was at the end of the Big Red Car line which extended from Venice, just south of Santa Monica. These cities have retained their tourist focus while also being desirable places to live because of the climate and ocean air. While now very expensive, they remain a great place to grow up!

Early OnI was born and raised in West Los Angeles on January 19,

1935, moving to Manhattan Beach early 1940. My father was an office executive in some kind of financial business, and I believe my mother was his secretary before marriage. I have little mem-ory of that time, just snippets when four years old of the front of the duplex we lived in and the street out front.

I was called Bobby until I reached high school; then later just Bob. In the mid-70’s someone suggested I call myself Robert. Now I’m called Bobby, Bob, or Robert. Whatever!

The beaches of Los Angeles are referred to as the Santa Monica Bay, or more often as the South Bay, and begin with Santa Monica to the north and Redondo Beach to the South, with El Se-gundo, Manhattan Beach, and Hermosa Beach in between.

This photo above shows the entire Los Angeles area with the Palos Verdes Peninsula in the lower middle of the map, and the South Bay beaches to its left, or north. San Pedro and Long Beach are to

5


the right, or south. My cover photo is taken from the foot of Ma-rine Avenue, looking south to the pier and the Palos Verdes Penin-sula.

There are three main east-west boulevards in Manhattan Beach. To the North is Rosecrans Avenue (and north of that was the unincorporated area of El Porto, incorporated into Manhattan Beach in 1980); to the South is Manhattan Beach Blvd, the pri-mary downtown street, which then was called Center Street. At the base of Manhattan Beach Blvd is the landmark Manhattan Beach pier, with the round pavilion at the end, called the “Round-house”. Exactly midway between these two streets is Marine Av-enue. Marine climbs steeply from the beach, past Highland Av-enue and up to Vista Drive, and then steeply down to Blanche Road, close to my house. From there east it is a bit of up-and-down terrain on the way to Sepulveda Blvd, aka U.S. Highway 1.

The area of Los Angeles where I was born was a very Anglo neighborhood back then, well before the ethnic invasion that has totally changed the landscape in that part of Los Angeles. I’m not attempting to say anything negative about the changes; I’m just saying what happened. As a matter of fact, my upbringing was completely absent of any negative opinions of ethnic or economi-cal groups. Whenever I did hear some kind of slur growing up, I would ignore it and never pass on such things. To this day I pride myself with very equal treatment of all peoples. I think older Cali-fornia-born people are more that way.

I do not know why my parents decided to move to the beach area. I do know that he started his own accounting business, working from home, keeping the books for a variety of businesses and people. My mother never worked after my birth as far as I know.

As I said we arrived in Manhattan Beach when I was almost 5. For up to a year we lived in a small second floor apartment near the top of Marine Avenue. This was while they were looking for a home to buy in the area. My mother entered me into 1st

grade in the local school called Grandview Elementary. This K-5 school was quite new; built with very modern architecture, with full-wall sliding glass along the length of each classroom. It’s still there.

6


One very positive thing about my parents (my mother really) is that they taught me good manners at an early age, including how to sit and stand erect, how to present myself, how to interact with adults, and how to eat at the table, etc. Those lessons are with me to this day. I believe I’m an “old-school” gentleman.

I recall just a few things while in elementary school. I sure remember my 3rd-grade teacher telling all of us that there was no Santa Claus. Darn, that was tough on those of us who hadn’t been told yet! I remember my 6th-grade math teacher at our Middle School always asking certain girls to help him open the high window tran-som in warm weather; he’d be in real trouble now-a-days. And I remember my 7th-grade teacher con-ducting a burial ceremony for my pet chameleon lizard that I brought to school for a show-and-tell. He came off my shoulder while playing softball in the school yard, and was crushed. So was I.

The Red WhistleI recall that my parents looked at several homes in the area

before buying the one I grew up in. At first they wanted a larger home at the top of Marine, called Alma Drive, looking down onto the expanse of the beautiful South Bay beaches from Malibu down to Palos Verdes. But they were just too expensive for us, selling for over $5,000. Ours was bought for about $2,800. In general I believe homes throughout the local beach area sold for $2,000 and up, and $20,000 and up for those directly on the beach. Of course today all these homes sell for millions. Our home at 543 Marine sold for over $1 million in 2010; the ones along the beach strand now sell for tens of millions. The photo on the cover was taken from Marine looking south to the pier.

Our new house was one block west of Blanche Road, with a narrow alley running between us and our neighbor to the east. A regular alley ran behind our house, parallel to Marine Avenue. This alley had all the poles for power and telephone and access to

7


our garages. I’m guessing the house was between 2-5 years old at the time. This is a recent picture; it was much nicer looking when I lived there.

I remember the very day we moved into our house. Walking into my tiny bedroom, I opened a built-in desk drawer and found a red whistle that fit completely inside my mouth; blowing out gave a very high-pitched sound. The kid that lived there before must have left it. I’ll always remember that red whistle.

I was to learn that this was a “Sadler” home. Sadler was a lo-cal architect and home builder. Over some period of time, maybe five years, he built about fifteen homes on both sides of Marine, from the top of Marine down to our house, the most eastern of those he built. The Sadler’s lived in a beautiful home he built at the top of Marine. Sadler-built homes were all truly master crafts-man houses. Our home was a 1.5 bedroom, 1 bath beach cottage. My half-bedroom was all built-in: built-in bunk beds (with carved-painted facade); built-in dresser/desk and ships wheel mirror (same type facade); and a small walk-in closet (how about that!).

The living room had enormous carved ceiling beams with colorful hand-painted scrolling across their length. Along one wall was a grand fireplace, maybe eight feet wide, all in polished white brick. It had two parts: on the right was an extra large fireplace with a large cast-iron pot hanging inside from a large hook. On the left was a double Dutch oven, with black doors. The bottom door was for wood; and the top for baking. Inside was tan brick-work as in a modern pizza oven. As I recall the oven remained un-used by us. The dining room had a built-in corner hutch with same type facade as the living room. The patio outside our small kitchen was all red brick with a very large built-in barbeque with a tall brick chimney, and a large redwood table with benches. It was as beautiful as any outdoor system being built today in expensive homes. With a detached two-car garage in back were a laundry room and an outdoor shower for washing off after a day at the beach.

Understand that this was a very small beach cottage...maybe 1,200 square feet; it was just built especially nice. The earth was all sand, so we had “ice plant” all over our front yard just like down on the beach. Our tiny back yard was also sand; handy for our cocker spaniel, Blackie.

8


Beach ice plant (carpobrotus edulis) has pretty multi-colored flow-ers that if you pull one off very carefully, you can put it on your finger just like a hula skirt. They were often used as a gift to a girl on the beach. I guess it still grows there.

I remember our telephone number started with "Frontier", followed by five digits, i.e., FR-5xxxx. Increased population did away with this system and led to our present 10-digit system. Some of the old names were famous. In the Los Angeles area, a famous one was used for the movie “Butterfield 8”. The New York Times Square area was “Gramercy”, i.e., GR-xxxxx.

BoyhoodAll along Blanche were very tall and majestic eucalyptus

trees with their wonderful aroma. In the one closest to my house, over a period of a year, I built a very nice tree fort about 15 feet up into the tree. Once we made sling shots out of tree branches and shot u-nails at nearby birds and such from my tree fort. I never minded until a poor bird was surprisingly hit! The u-nails would sometimes leave a small cut on my thumb when the end burr of the nail came out of our fingers. God paying me back I guess.

From my 10th year on my father took me with him at times to meet up with customers. During World War II my father worked two jobs at a time. It was tough on everyone during WWII. While all the time having accounting customers, he took on other jobs to help us get by. For a year or so he was a betting cashier at the beautiful Santa Anita Racetrack in Arcadia, northeast of Los Ange-les. Once in awhile I would be allowed to walk around the park while he worked. For a few weeks he was even a weekend guard at a local lumber yard. But the most exciting trips I took with him were to the Venice Amusement Pier to meet with a customer.

Excitement and Venice were syn-onymous. Roller skating became popular and a skating rink was built on Trolley Way (now Pacific Avenue). Abbot Kin-ney, the builder of the Venice Canals, built a spacious dance hall on his pier that accommodated 1,600 people. The “Aragon Ballroom” was

9


the long time home of the Spade Cooley Show, and after I grew up it became the Cheetah Club where rock bands like the Doors and many other top bands of the time performed. It burned in a 1970 fire.

My father handled the personal accounting books for Spade Cooley, leader of America's largest swing band. He had one of the longest running television shows, and he was probably the most popular entertainer west of the Mississippi River. I accompanied my father to the pier for his 2-3 hour visits on several occasions. I was introduced to Spade and to some members of his “Western Swing” band, including famous country singer Tex Ritter. Cooley died in prison after he was convicted of killing his wife.

For the times that I was there I freely roamed the pier’s offerings, includ-ing a weird boat ride at the end of the pier; a potato-sack ride down a tall spiral tower (that was so dangerous because of splinters from the wood slide that even back then it was closed down); and a su-per-duper “Fun House” that had, among dozens of other things, a revolving drum (think cement mixer) that you walked through, trying not to fall over. But my favorite, and scariest for a young boy, was the “Wild Man of Borneo” exhibit; where patrons walked around a cage while the “Wildman” screamed and tried to catch you with his hairy arms. Ooooooh!

When the Kinney Pier's lease expired in 1946, Los Angeles declined to renew the lease due to problems with the pier. Prof-itable or not, the city’s plan was to widen the beaches thus re-moving all piers. The pier was dismantled in 1946 when I was 11. The Ocean Park Pier, however, thrived after it was converted to a nautical theme park called Pacific Ocean Park (POP). It remained in existence until 1967.

Both my parents enjoyed music. They had a collection of classical music as well as then-current greats such as Frank Sinatra. These were all on 78rpm records of course.

10

http://wapedia.mobi/en/The_Doors


God, I wish I had those today. I retained an interest in classical music throughout my adult life. So thanks, folks!

Sunday SchoolAbout the age of 10 or 11 my parents enrolled me in a local

non-denominational church called The Community Church on the corner of 26th Street and Highland Avenue. I don’t remember my parents ever attending church, or my grandparents either, but by God they were going to have me go!

I really didn’t go to church, I went to Sunday School. All I re-member about the two years or so that I attended was the Old Testament Book of Ecclesiastics; especially since I was required to memorize so much of it. I accepted the words of this particular Book as coming directly from the mouth of God. Of course I don’t believe in each and every passage, but the majority of it is pretty good. I’ve never been much of a Christian; not receiving baptism until I was 50 years old; but it’s fair to say that I’m not a “non-Christian”.

I stopped attending when I was 13 (it took away from my beach-time!). But when I was 15, playing basketball in the gym at Live Oak Park three blocks from my home, some male members of that church, “scouters” I guess, talked me into joining the church team. And I remember that they actually paid me a few bucks for each game! I was a fairly good player in those days, but we were not talented enough to beat other teams in the city, so I quit after a few games. But I can indeed say I once had a paying job as a basketball player! Ha!

Staying AliveI guess I must have had at least one hundred stitches in my

body, most on my head; all received from ages 4 to 16. I’ll just mention the biggies here. Foremost was the automobile accident with my parents when I was 4 before we moved to the beach. It was at night and we were going to or from somewhere. It was raining, and I stood up in the front seat between my parents as many kids were allowed to do in those days before seat belts. A car coming toward us apparently got the front wheel stuck into the trolley car tracks and, attempting to correct, skidded into us head-on. Upon impact I went straight forward, hitting the rear-

11


view mirror with the right side of my face. It put a two inch gash into my right cheek, partially tore my nose off and made a severe gash directly under my right eyeball. My father was untouched but my mother had a pretty good gash on her leg. I remember to this day being awake, concerned only with my mother’s injury, and never crying. It took about 50 stitches to close the wounds. I don’t have memories of the weeks wearing bandages over my en-tire head; maybe just as well. The only slight problem I ever had with all this was kids calling me scarface at times. But that didn’t bother me. The scars still show a little bit to this day.

While aged 5 in our temporary apartment, I fell down the stairs, splitting open my chin. When about 12 I leapt from the beach Boardwalk into the sand and landed on a broken glass milk bottle, slicing open my right heel. When about 13 I was riding bikes with my buddy in a local tennis court and I hit a tall ladder leaning against a fence; it fell on my head, giving me a long gash. I was rushed to a clinic by other people at the park, and when my father arrived to see me bandaged and with blood all over my face and clothes, he actually turned green and fainted to the floor. The doctors forgot about me to attend to my father! And when I was 17 I cut off a tiny piece of my left index finger while operating a lumber yard circular saw. That was ugly! Accident prone? Duh!

While never requiring stitches, there were dozens of times that I stubbed my toe going to or from my house to the beach, leaving a bloody and painful toe. In those days they patched cracks in roads with hot asphalt. Those asphalt bumps were treacherous on bare feet.

JailbirdUnfortunately I have not maintained any school-age relation-

ships, but I do have brief memories of some of my friends. One of my earliest beach friends who lived nearby lit a small empty lot on fire while we were walking home from downtown along Valley Drive. We ran, and from a vantage point a block away, watched firemen quickly extinguish the fire. Another friend convinced me to go with him to a Five-and- Dime store in downtown Hermosa Beach just up from the pier to steal cap-guns. We stuffed a gun and caps into our shirts and hustled outside into an alley in back

12


of the store. While admiring our new possessions and proud of what we got away with, the store manager grabbed us by the back of our shirt collars and walked us to the police station di-rectly across the street. Obviously we didn’t pick the best of loca-tions for our youthful but criminal caper! Anyway, they put us in the city jail cage until our fathers arrived a couple of hours later. He never told my mother (whew!). That was the first and last time I ever stole anything in my whole life. Now I have this sense of pride that I once spent a few hours in the Hermosa Beach Jail. At least we went out of town!

Some of my closest friend’s parents always wanted me around their son be-cause they thought I was such a well-mannered boy, a “nice boy”, so they wanted their son to be influenced by me. Ha! One very close friend was Buzzy James, whose father managed Poncho’s Restaurant at the corner of Highland and Rosecrans avenues, and with whom I surfed a lot. Buzzy was best man at my marriage to Joan in 1956. He later became a Lt. or Capt. in the LA County Lifeguard service.

Other close friends I grew up through high school included Timothy Alfred Dudley Bullock, Jr. (love that moniker!), Jim Shank-land, John Timon, Bill Welch, Ted Wall, and Ken Swearingen. In high school I befriended Al Kleives, Angelo Stamis, and many oth-ers. Angelo had the best lowered and channeled 49 Mercury in town; he and I cruised around on many a night looking for girls or whatever. Angelo became general manager of a Las Vegas casino in the 60’s.

In 10th-12th grades my friends changed somewhat. Then after my marriage in 1955 I never again saw any of my school friends. All my current “old” friends are the result of working at System Development Corporation (SDC) in Santa Monica starting in 1959. Starting as a Com-puter Programmer Analyst, this began my 45-year career in the aerospace industry.

To Be Continued…

13


Today’s kids cannot imagine what a great experience it was for us to go to Saturday afternoon “matinees” at our downtown movie theater. Going to the movies was very different for kids in those days. Our theater, “La Mar”, at the corner of Highland and Man-hattan Beach Blvd’s (then Center Street), played a doubleheader each Saturday afternoon for kids, with a great cartoon (e.g., “Tom & Jerry”) in between, and maybe a newsreel at the beginning. The double-headers were usually serial movies. I couldn’t remember any titles, so from the internet I found, among many oth-ers, these that were played during those times: Flash Gordon, The Phan-tom, Batman, Captain America, Perils of Nyoka, Daredevils of the West, Haunted Harbor, The Tiger Woman, Zorro's Black Whip, and Manhunt of Mystery Island. Each of these were se-ries of five or more one-hour movies, each ending at a cata-clysmic point where the hero is about to die; only to recover com-pletely at the start of the next movie in the series. In the last one he walked off with the gal into the sunset, ala John Wayne. We had popcorn, candy and soda pop too. I don't remember ever tak-ing a girl to a movie, just meeting up with guys. Great memories!

Staying HealthyStaying healthy at the beach was

fairly easy. As a matter of fact I don’t re-member many overweight kids or adults. While informal and formal competitive sports were nice, there was nothing better than doing what’s natural right on the beach. Most obvious is lying around, volley-ball, surfing, swimming, and other things in the surf. I learned to bodysurf at about 8, and by the time I was in high school, became a real expert.

Board surfing started when I was about 13 and I became so-so. When I wasn’t in the water, I was laying on the sand (hardly ever used a towel when younger) maintaining a dark brown tan.

14


We looked like Gods! By age 10 I was playing two-man volleyball, almost every day, year round. Got quite good at it too! Jimmy Shankland and I would take on all comers on the Marine Avenue court. To this day I have a bad right shoulder from spiking so much.

In middle school, regular sports were all the normal things, and in high school I joined the tennis team (I took private lessons), and played in several tournaments. I was on the RUHS track team specializing in high jump and shot put. Being pretty skinny, I was relegated to the “C” squad. My real sport was play-ing weekend pick-up football on the Grandview Elementary field or in the sand at the beach. I remember Ken Swearingen, Buzzy James, Jim Shankland, and so many others having fun this way. Later in high school I got involved with a ping pong club in the Roundhouse at the end of the Manhattan Beach pier. Once the coach took us to a big-time tournament in Hollywood where we got slaughtered! But I was a pretty good ping pong player. I also tried badminton a few times at the Manhattan Beach Badminton Club up on the bluff above Live Oak Park, but the skills at that club were way to tough for me, I also did a bit of skiing at Christ-mas break, usually at Big Bear, in the mountains north-east of Los Angeles. Simple fun when younger was playing marbles in the dirt. I remember I was pretty good and had collected or won a pretty large bag of migs, agates, and shoot-ers.

Lunch at the beach was usually a carton of cot-tage cheese and a quart of milk that we bought at Heathcoat’s Grocery at the foot of Marine. We stayed healthy; but we also chowed-down on hamburgers as often as we could, especially at King Cole’s across from RUHS.

Getting AroundLiving on the steep streets of Manhattan Beach meant a lot

of walking up and down to get to the beach, and a nice one mile walk to get downtown. Of course all kids had bikes, but I usually didn’t use it to go downtown. My bike was mostly for neighbor-hood runs and my paper route job. Later I bought a used “Whizzer” gasoline-powered bicycle to get to school and use on my paper route.

15


When I started high school I had to walk to Highland Avenue and wait for an early-morning bus with other kids to take us to RUHS in Redondo Beach, the only high school for the beach cities. That first winter, when I was in 9th grade, a record-breaking 27º cold front hit the California coast. Sometimes we waited 30 min-utes or more for the bus, so that day some older boys brought wood and started a nice bonfire right there at the street corner. The police or fire department soon put an end to that! I continued taking the bus through the 10th grade until I got my Whizzer motor bicycle.

Before I got my own car immedi-ately after graduation, my father al-lowed me to occasionally use his beauti-ful 1947 cream-colored Oldsmobile 98 convertible. A few times I was allowed to dress it up with red and white streamers to get to my high school “Seahawk” football games on Friday nights. Need-less to say I was popular with guys and gals on those nights. I was grounded for a while after I broke a side mirror off getting too close to a tree branch in our driveway.

My first car was a beat-up 1938 Chevrolet sedan that needed a lot of work to get it running. I gave up and sold it. Then I luckily found a four-year old 1949 Ford V-8 convertible that someone had fancied up with lots of chrome along the inside doors. Cars lost much of their value after three or four years in those days; so I must have got it at a very low price. My '49 Ford, cranberry red like in photo below, was lowered in the back, and had dual header exhausts that made that famous V-8 rumble. This is the car I drag-raced against Sonny Bono in the streets next to Douglas Aircraft (see Chapter 3, "Me and Sonny"). God, I loved that car!

16


2. THE BEACH

Not surprisingly, the beaches of Los Angeles are a wonderful place to live. I’m sure that most people have owned homes there for decades, or have kept them in their families over time. This must be especially true of the homes directly above the Board-walk/Strand. Valued between $5-15 million, they are rented out at rates of $500 to $1000 a night. As mentioned earlier, the beaches of Los Angeles, called the South Bay, begin with Santa Monica to the north and Redondo Beach to the South, with Manhattan Beach and Hermosa Beach in between. The Manhattan Beach pier is shown in the photo above.

Manhattan Beach is truly a beach town; but it did have one industry, and that was the Met-

17


lox Pottery factory on Manhattan Beach Blvd, near Valley Drive. Just one of their many famous designs is shown in this photo. It closed in 1988. Hermosa Beach had no industry as far as I can re-member; but Redondo Beach was well known because it had TRW, nee Thompson-Ramo-Woolridge, and now called Northrop Grumman Space Technology.

The StrandThe South Bay Boardwalk, aka The

Strand, runs from Santa Monica all the way through Hermosa Beach, and is a cement walkway running just below the beach-front homes. Below the Boardwalk is a newer bike path running for most of the same length. It truly is a wonderful experience to walk, skate or bike for miles along these paths, as shown in this photo of the bike path in Venice Beach.

The South Bay beaches are blessed with beautiful, tannish-white sand, regularly cleaned by large sand-sifting machines. The sand area must be at least 50 yards in width throughout all the beach areas. Every quarter-mile or so is a classic-looking lifeguard station. Ice plant grows behind the sand. It produces beautiful flowers in two or three colors.

Manhattan Beach has made the sport of volleyball famous. While some reports state that men’s teams played beach volleyball on the Hawaiian coast in the twenty's, most would agree that the game began big time on the South Bay beaches. The first organized trophy tournaments were played in Manhattan Beach next to the pier. The first match with two players on each team was played in Santa Monica in 1930. A tournament at the pier is shown in the photo.

Hanging Out and Hanging Ten

18


Just hanging out at the beach was an activity unto itself. One didn’t really have to do anything; just lay on the sand or a towel and get golden brown, lie around and gab with friends, or just go jump in the water. To show off sometimes as we approached the water's edge, we would walk down to the water on our hands hop-ing the girls were watching. Sometimes we tried to catch sand crabs (emerita analoga) when they revealed themselves as waves washed up. As soon as the water receded, the little one-inch crabs would feverously dig deep into the wet sand. Surf fishermen would use the soft-shelled versions as bait to fish from the shore. It was yucky to hold one.

Getting in and out of the water all day long usually gave me stains of black tar on the bottom of my feet. The Standard Oil re-finery and storage complex in El Segundo regularly had oil tankers come up to a private pier and unload crude oil to the re-finery. In the early 1900’s Standard Oil built the town and named it El Segundo because it was the second refinery town the company built (this photo shows Rosecrans Blvd on the right). Over the years leaks and spills always happened when they took crude from the ships; so little globs of oil tar would drift down along the beaches and come in with the waves. Of course I couldn’t walk in the house with tar on my feet, so I would go to the garage and remove it with tur-pentine.

Surf along the beach areas varies by time of year and location. I believe it normally ranges from 2 -5 feet, with higher surf in winter. In any event the surf in these areas is great for body and board surfing, with long waves breaking nicely, allowing considerable play with your board through the short life of the wave. Waves often come in sets, and if a larger series of big sets

19


happen, you will hear yells from the surfers: “surfs up!” or “set!” Surfers would madly paddle out farther to get into these beauties. Hang Ten means moving up on the surfboard while in a wave until your toes hang over the front of the board. I couldn’t do it.

The first board I bought was a 7’ hollow “box” board (this is a photo of an unfinished frame), that was fine for coming straight in, but forget trying to turn the thing! Then I bought an 8’ 4” Velzy, made of balsa wood interspersed with redwood strips. It was a heavy board, maybe 40 pounds or so, and hard to turn. But I loved it and really learned to surf with it over the next few years. Dale Velzy, called “The Hawk”, was a master surfboard-maker widely considered one of the men responsible for the rise of the California surfer culture in the years after WWII, and was the first person to commercialize the sport. By the end of the 40’s, he was the world's biggest surfboard manufacturer, and his work was sought after by the country's top surfers. He began making balsa surfboards beneath the Hermosa Beach pier around 1949, and a few years later opened what is regarded by many to be the world’s first surf shop, Velzy Surfboards. His counterpart in Manhattan Beach a few years later was Dewey Weber. I think the best RUHS surfer was Toby Erlinger, a year be-hind me.

Once in a while we would venture down to the Manhattan Beach pier to surf, where surf builds up higher along the pilings of the pier because of sand build-up. We didn’t re-ally like to go there much because of those smart-aleck pier surfers. The one we disliked the most, because of his incredible skills, was Dewey Weber. Dewey was two years younger than us, and he started making a name for himself up and down the coast. In later years he was a famous west coast surfer and board-builder. He’s still in business.

Maybe once a year we would travel to locations farther south to find better surfing

20


conditions. One favorite spot was at San Onofre, south of San Clemente. San Onofre has several surf breaks on its 3 miles of coast, ranging from the beginner’s gentle breaking waves to one of the premiere surf breaks in the United States. Once we also went to La Jolla to surf at Windansea Beach. Another famous spot was winter surf at Malaga Cove, Palos Verdes. One day there, in heavy surf far out, I lost my board and nearly drowned before I could slowly swim to shore exhausted. I think this was my second close call with death; the first being the accident when I was four. Of course even Manhattan Beach sometimes had big surf in the winter, as shown in this photo.

I mentioned earlier that I did a lot of body surfing; of course with swim fins to provide speed get-ting into the wave, and for less effort to stay stable while waiting for the next set of waves. As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure I could catch any small one today! Body surfing skills got much better in later years.

Friends and I also got into build-ing our own body boards, then a piece of wide pine wood, trimmed to the right shape and sanded and painted smooth. These days they are made of foam. We also made two-foot round skimmer boards out of pine or plywood; carefully shaping the bottom, then sanding and painting smooth as glass. The water had to be at low tide to use these round skim-mers. When the water came in and left one inch or so before it drained back into the surf, we would run fast, then carefully toss the skimmer ahead of us, then tenderly jump onto the skimmer and slide along until we stopped in the wet sand. Sometimes we had a buddy pull us by rope through the same water conditions. Fun!

Do Grunion Run?As often as I could I would take my homemade rod, Penn Jig-

master reel, and tackle box to the Manhattan Beach pier for a day of fishing. There were a few times when I would buy a ticket on the “Isle of Redondo” fishing barge off Redondo Beach, or I would travel

21


to the Palos Verdes Peninsula at Malaga Cove to fish from the rock jetties. But fishing from the pier was handy, easier, cheap, and really fun. In those days there was a live bait shop near the end of the pier, and once a week a bait-boat would deliver a fresh supply of live anchovies, hauled up from the boat with a large net to the bait shop. The bait shop was removed decades ago. The most common fish caught were Tom Cod, a deplorable fish that everyone threw back in the water, Mackerel, which was almost as bad but so much fun to catch and bring in. Off-and-on I would fish for halibut or for fighting fish such as Bonito and Yellowtail Tuna. I don’t think any of these type fish can be found there anymore. I guess because the fish they fed on left the coast because of the demise of coastal kelp beds.

No matter what kind of fishing, except for occasionally snag-ging with a multiple hook leader right at the pier pilings, we always underhand cast our lines out from the pier as far as we could. This became quite a talent to do correctly, and that’s what Penn Jigmaster’s (and Squid-der’s) were built for. Fishing for halibut was unique. A fairly heavy sinker was used to get the line out far; and a leader, with live anchovy, was placed like a slider between the sinker and a spot three feet back. This allowed the bait to swim freely back and forth at the bottom where halibut were found. A few times I caught 5-10 pounders. To us these were the filet mignons of the sea.

Fishing for fighting fish was very different. Either live an-chovies or large lures were used. Here again we would cast out as far as we could, but with hardly any weight on the end, and a long leader so that the anchovy would stay near the surface as long as possible while floating down. Then we would re-cast. With lures we would cast out and quickly reel in and cast out over and over again. Mackerel and Bonito were always exciting fish to catch (as compared to dead-weight halibut), but to me of no value to take home, as they were too oily and smelly! I remember some adults took them home, but we would just cut them open, take out part of their gills that we called the Berry, and use that as bait to catch the next

22


one. It would take a lot of time to bring one in. No matter what kind of fish, if they were over two pounds we would need help from someone to lower a large net into the water to bring the fish up without breaking our line.

Then there are (is?) grunion! Grunion (leuresthes tenuis) are small sil-ver-green fish about 5 inches long found only along the coast of Southern Califor-nia and northern Baja California. Most of us would be unaware of their existence were it not for the unique spawning be-havior of these fish. Unlike other fish, grunion come out of the water into the wet sand of the beach. And that creates the famous California “grunion run”. Along the sandy beaches, from March through September, one of the most remarkable life cycles in the sea is completed when the grunion comes ashore to spawn. They spawn at night, and finding them was always rare; but if you did, you had to wait until the surf brought them in with the tide. First the females come in and bur-row their tails into the wet sand to deposit their eggs. Then the males follow and deposit their sperm over the eggs. Grabbing ei-ther a female or male during this ceremony is not easy, but doable. One would have to take home 20-40 of these little fish to make a decent meal. I did catch some over the years, but never took any home; they are way too bony for me.

Short TripsThere were many other fun

things to do around the beach areas. Right on the Strand in Hermosa Beach was the then-famous Biltmore Hotel. The hotel had an indoor 60'x25' pool. Johnnie Timon and I would pay our way in to swim in the pool (it had a double-height diving board), and sometimes we would sneak up to the second floor landing over the plunge, and dive in when no-one was looking. Of course we

23


could have seriously injured ourselves, but the thrill was worth it. We also dove off the pier once in awhile. Boys will be boys!

Once or twice we would go down to the Redondo Beach Pier where they also had rides, arcades and such. At the south end of the pier was the very large Fox Theater; maybe I went there once or twice; I can’t remember. One thing I do remember, however, was remnants of an infamous whorehouse; a real house that sat at the end of a street near the jetty, just north of the pier. I re-member it was painted red.

A few Friday nights during our senior year, friends and I would sneak into the back door of “Howard Rumsey’s Lighthouse All-Stars” jazz club near the foot of the Hermosa Beach pier. I sure remember Rumsey’s su-perb bass playing and his leaning-over mouth-open style. Also his band included fa-mous jazz musicians such as Shorty Rogers and Shelly Manne. Great music!

Also fun was taking the ferry to Santa Catalina Island, and walking around the beautiful boating cove and the town of Avalon. Catalina is a rocky island 22 miles off the Palos Verdes Peninsula. The island is 22 miles long and 8 miles across at its greatest width, as shown in this map. A beauti-ful Art Deco dance hall, called the Casino, was built in 1929. At 140 feet high it was the tallest building in Los Angeles County at the time. Surrounded by sea on three sides, the circular Art Deco structure stands the equivalent of twelve stories tall.

24

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Storey&action=edit&redlink=1

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Angeles_County

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art_Deco

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Island


3. PAYCHECKS

From the age of about 11 and on I was never without a job of some sort. I believe it was just more common in those days for kids to fend for themselves when it came to money needed for entertainment, snacks, and personal needs, such as fishing gear, models, and the like.

Herald ExpressMy first job was as a newspaper delivery

boy for the Los Angeles Herald Express; later “Examiner”. I delivered papers to customers up and down Marine Avenue and streets paral-lel to it. At first I delivered by walking the route. It would take about two hours, including time to fold the papers. Actually a great job for a kid; I would make about $30-$40 a month (a lot more at Christmas); good money for a kid in those days. Each month I would take a stamp book around with me to collect payments and to use for proof that a customer had paid, which I think was $2-$3 a month. Soon after getting the route I got a bicycle to use, making the job much easier and quicker. Papers were carried in a company-supplied canvas bag that I draped over the handlebars. I removed the fenders from my fat-tire Schwinn to make it look cooler.

When I was 16 I bought a Whizzer bicycle powered by a gasoline engine. It was great, es-pecially for traversing the hills of my neighbor-hood. The Herald Examiner went out of busi-ness in the early 60’s, leaving the Los Angeles Times as the sole “big city” newspaper.

Little Bavaria

25


For a little more money I briefly worked as a dish-washer at the Little Bavaria Restaurant near the foot of Marine, just a block up from the beach. It was quite well-known at the time, but to me it was remarkable because of the strange ethnic combinations of the place. First and foremost it was a German restaurant as the name implies. But one of their specialties was southern-fried chicken, applied with a spicy pep-per taste. The best fried chicken I’ve ever had in my life! But weirdest of all was that all the chefs were Chinese, and as far as I can remember spoke no English. So go figure! A hard sweaty job, but it paid good money at the time, and it was close to my house. I have heard of rumors that the restaurant was a hotbed of Nazi sympathizers but I knew nothing about that.

Horse MeatAlso at 16 or just 17, when I could drive my father’s beautiful

cream-colored Olds 98, I somehow got a brief job delivering horse meat to about 30 pet owners in the Manhattan Beach area. I don’t think this is even done anymore! This was an even higher paying job, but it ended with a major incident. At the end of each delivery there were always a few packages left over, each weighing a pound and wrapped in tan butcher paper. I usually put them in my refrigerator as soon as I got home in the early evening. One night my father let me keep the car later into the evening. After my late afternoon delivery route, I went directly to a beach party with some buddies that got organized on the beach of El Porto, an unincorporated county area just north of Manhattan Beach. I parked the car up the hill, with leftover packages of horse meat in the trunk, and we went down to have fun at the beach party. Ev-eryone set bonfires and started drinking beer. By the way, I never recall anyone I knew taking drugs, such as marijuana; we just drank beer and listened to music on someone’s portable radio or 45rpm record player. At some point in the evening we were raided by dozens of Los Angeles County Sheriff’s cars. My friends and I saw them coming and tried to make it to my car, but they

26


got to us before we could leave. They put us in a police car and searched the front of my car for booze and drugs, but found noth-ing. Then they insisted on looking in the trunk. When the trunk was opened and they looked inside, you would think they had struck gold! Numerous other officers were then called over to my car. When repeatedly asked what the tan packages were, and al-ways responding “horse meat”, they really got pissed off; until one of them opened a package, saw the horse meat, and called off the “Big Drug Bust”. As we were sitting in the back of the po-lice car, one of my buddies tossed the police car keys way out into the sand dunes. Since they found nothing illegal on us they let us drive away, and before they noticed their keys were gone. What a scary but hilarious experience!

Other IncomeOne summer I got a job grilling hamburgers at Howie’s Pit

barbeque joint just off the Strand at the popular 22nd Street in Hermosa Beach. The grill faced the outside window where hun-dreds of beachgoers walked to and from the beach. It was fun work, but very hot leaning over that hot grill for hours!

My last real job before leaving high school was as a lumber-yard helper at Learned Lumber, on Sepulveda Blvd. in Hermosa Beach (it's still there). I kept shelves cleaned and stocked in the main store, including paint and such. One day they allowed me to cut up some lumber with an industrial-sized circular saw out in the lumberyard. Apparently I wasn’t being careful enough and let my left index finger get too close to the saw blade, and it sliced off a tiny bit of the right side of my finger. The worst part of this was the medical treatment. For whatever medical reason, I had to go in for weekly treatments where the doctor used some kind of chemical on the end of a swab to burn back the growth of new flesh on the tip of my finger. These treatments were very painful. My left index fingertip is ugly to this day. That ended my job at Learned Lumber. Too bad, because I was just getting to know the owner’s very pretty daughter who lived in Rolling Hills. Rolling Hills is expensive horse country on the Palos Verdes Peninsula.

My last high school job was going to be at a newly-opened carwash in Redondo Beach, on PCH at Catalina. I think it was the first automated carwash in the South Bay area. For some reason

27


my car was not available so I asked my grandfather to drive me to my first day on the job. Just 5 minutes late, the manager immedi-ately fired me. This was the first and last time in my life to be fired from a job, and it sure taught me to never be late again.

The Beat Goes OnUpon the death of my father in September 1952, three

months after graduation, I had to get a full time job. I had just started classes at El Camino College when he died, and I tried staying on, but just couldn’t. The aircraft plants in El Segundo, in-cluding Douglas Aircraft and North American Aviation, were al-ways hiring, as the Cold War was in full swing. So in March 1953 I accepted a job working in one of the warehouses at Douglas. This particular warehouse contained airplane components and all kinds of supplies. The department I was assigned to was a very large stationary department. Here is where I met my first wife, Joan, and the to-become-famous Sonny Bono. But that’s beyond this memoir!

Ok…just a smidgeon: Sonny and I kept shelves stocked and we filled orders for 90 pound

boxes of IBM cards and enor-mous cartons of card stock for printing. While doing our job in the “bins” we would both sing

various songs at the top of our lungs. Sometimes we were told to stop, but we kept doing it. I re-member chatting with Sonny about the possibility that he might start a singing career. The rest is history! I never saw Sonny after that, so never met Cher.

28


4. “TORA TORA TORA”

It must be quite hard for anyone born after WWII to imagine what it was like on the West Coast during those dramatic times. When the war broke out, everyone’s life changed drastically; work changed, supplies changed, and transportation changed. I lived and breathed it; totally consumed by the news and pictures of ev-ery day of the war.

A Date That Will Live in InfamyThese were the words spoken by President Franklin Delano

Roosevelt on the afternoon of December 7th, 1941. I think every-one in America, and many around the world, heard his speech de-scribing America’s anger and determination to respond to Japan’s surprise attack on our naval ships and facilities at Pearl Harbor, Honolulu, Hawaii. The President responded by declaring war against Japan. Our war against Germany was declared three days later. Thus began WWII. Roosevelt died just before the end of the war, replaced by Vice-President Harry S. Truman.

The attack started at 9am in Hawaii (11am in California), one month before my 6th birthday. Japanese fighter pilots screamed over their radios: “Tora, Tora, Tora” (“Attack, Attack, Attack”). I must have been in school and the school had all kids go directly home. It must have been horrible for those who were caring for children. As soon as I got home, my mother held me as we sat glued to our Zenith radio listening to the President’s speech and to the many other accounts that followed. It was a very frighten-ing experience, especially for all of us who lived on the west coast. My half-brother Donald, a Marine aboard a Navy Destroyer, was on their way into Pearl, and luckily his ship was not seen by the Japanese.

Soon after there were rumors of impending attacks against California and Washington military and munitions facilities, ship and airplane industrial plants, and fuel supplies. They never hap-pened but the fear was always there. Since there was no televi-sion available yet, people had to rely on radio or go to their local theater to see news clips of the war. They were called “Movietone News”, and would usually be shown prior to first feature film.

29


Over the next few years America became the most powerful industrial nation in the world. Women went to work at airplane factories (creat-ing the “Rosie the Riveter” war poster lady), and “negroes” were drafted into the military ser-vices, even though rampant bigotry was still evi-dent throughout America.

From that day in December 1941 until Japan surrendered in September 1945, the war was all I heard and cared about. I was 10 years old when the war ended. Since we were on the west coast, our interest was naturally with the many Pacific Campaigns that raged on through-out this period. We knew about the war against Germany, but that was so very, very far away. The Pacific Ocean was right under our feet!

Thus began an intense but brief hatred of the Japanese people, which was not eased until their complete defeat following America’s drop-ping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Na-gasaki. Throughout the war we all referred to them as “the Japs”. A typical wartime poster is shown here. Not long after the war I would never again refer to them in that way.

The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor killed 2,345 military personnel and 57 civilians, with thousands more in-jured. Horrible as this is, compare this to the fact that Al-Qaida Is-lamic Terrorists killed 2,752 civilians with their destruction of the twin New York City World Trade Towers on 11 September 2001, with thousands more injured.

The Sands of Iwo JimaOver the next four years, I followed the war against Japan

with total dedication. Hearing news of sea battles and invasions of the many Pacific islands was very exciting and the topic of con-versation of just about everyone, kids alike. The following para-graphs highlight the actions that absorbed me so through these terrible times.

America needed to spread out Japan's forces in the area so we challenged the Japanese on nearby islands, including Guadal-

30


canal. Guadalcanal became the main focus of the contest be-tween the Allies and Japan, and for months the battle raged on, involving U.S. and Japanese aircraft carriers and other ships.

In the Gilbert Islands U.S. troops landed at the heavily de-fended coral atoll, Tarawa. Next the U.S. struck at Japan's naval base at Truk, Japan's "Gibraltar of the Pacific." Then Marines landed at Saipan, in the Mariana Islands, from which the U.S. launched its B-29 bombers against Japan. Other major land and sea battles continued.

Spiritually Japan was falling apart, and materially as well. By early 1945 many of Japan's major cities were in ruins. They soon saw America begin its assault on Okinawa, which the Japanese considered part of their homeland. The battle for Okinawa was the bloodiest and longest of the Pacific war, lasting several months.

The option of invading Japan's main islands weighed on Pres-ident Truman’s mind. Estimates were that as many as one million Americans servicemen would be killed in such as invasion. So on August 6, 1945 the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima. Four days later another bomb was dropped on Na-gasaki. Within days Emperor Hirohito agreed to end to war. On September 2, 1945 aboard the battleship Missouri, in Tokyo Bay, repre-sentatives of Japan met with the Allies to sign an unconditional surrender.

At the risk of the U.S. losing over a mil-lion in any kind of land invasion of Japan, I think it was a very reasonable decision to drop the atomic bombs on those two cities. It ended the war quickly. This remains a con-tentious topic to this day.

Throughout and after the war Holly-wood produced dozens of war movies. I watched most of these great movies at the local La Mar Theater. Some movies are famous to this day; others not so much. A few of the titles about the war in the Pacific were: Midway; Operation Pa-cific; Objective Burma; Raiders of Leyte Gulf; Run Silent, Run Deep; Guadalcanal; Sands of Iwo Jima; and many others.

Internment

31

http://www.fsmitha.com/h2/map03as.htm

http://www.fsmitha.com/h2/map22jc.html




During the 20’s and 30’s more and more Japanese farmers arrived on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, and their children went to school at Malaga Cove. They prospered there. The San Pedro tomato, famous for its flavor and color, was exported as far as the east coast. During the Depression the Japanese farmers were gen-erous with food for the unemployed. In 1941, the fragile peace between the Japanese and the rest of the “Peninsulan’s” was bro-ken. The Palos Verdes Estates City Council voted that all Japa-nese were to be removed from the peninsula because it was a strategic area. The local Japa-nese tried to cooperate but by the following spring their forced evacuation was under-way. The evacuation camps were brutal places and the evacuees suffered greatly.

I clearly remember the Japanese farming areas around Palos Verdes. In 1945 the Japanese exclusion order was lifted but most Japanese had nowhere to return. Many went east where anti-Japa-nese bigotry was not as strong. In 1946 a relocation camp was set up east of Redondo Beach for those who did return, and the local newspaper asked residents to hire them as gardeners or handy-men. I had no feelings at the time for the plight of these true Americans. I believe reparations have been made in many cases.

CamouflageThe addition of the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX),

which officially opened in 1930, had a very major role in turning El Segundo into an aerospace center. The likes of Douglas Aircraft, Hughes Aircraft, Northrop, and North American Aviation (Rock-well) all built major facilities in El Segundo during the 1940s and 1950s. Most of these aircraft-related companies would eventually transition into the aerospace-defense industry. In 1960, the cre-ation of The Aerospace Corporation and Los Angeles Air Force Base gave El Segundo the esteemed title of The Aerospace Capi-tal of the World. My entire career has been in the aerospace in-dustry.

32


Once WWII began in 1941, a blackout immediately took ef-fect. While National Guardsman patrolled the beach, helmeted Air Raid Wardens inspected their assigned blocks for any stray shafts of light that might be a beacon for enemy submarines and ships. Douglas Aircraft and North American Aviation factories in El Se-gundo and Santa Monica, and Lockheed in Burbank, were com-pletely camouflaged with overhead netting so that it looked like a suburban housing tract from the air. A fake aircraft factory was even built across the street. I well remember driving with my fa-ther through the camouflage netting that covered all of this area. It was all very eerie! Photo at right shows before (top) and after (bottom).

The Battle of Los Angeles

33


The evacuation of the ethnic Japanese was just getting under way when in February 1942 a Japanese submarine shelled an oil facility near Santa Barbara, just 80 miles up the coast from Los Angeles. Many saw this as a prelude to a greater attack, and ten-sions rose rapidly throughout the Los Angeles area. Rumors spread. The next night, around midnight, a false report was sent out to anti-aircraft gunners on the heights overlooking Los Ange-les that enemy planes had been spotted. That was the spark that ignited "The Battle of Los Angeles". The anti-aircraft gunners in one section of town opened fire on the unseen airplanes and their search lights scanned the sky. The frenzy spread and other gun-ners opened up. Some civilians rushed for shelter, while others rushed outside to see what was happening. Some thought they saw the planes, while others thought they saw parachutes and bombs falling. Spent anti-aircraft shells rained down on roof tops and cars. Santa Monica and Long Beach were hardest hit. Air raid wardens dashed about ordering people to extinguish lights and take cover. Rumors spread that a section of the city was on fire and that a plane had crashed east of Santa Monica. There was a rash of auto accidents as drivers tried to ma-neuver in darkened streets with headlights off, and several people had heart attacks.

The so-called battle went on for over two hours before the guns fell silent. The next morning headlines of the Los Angeles Times screamed "L.A. AREA RAIDED". It was not true, but the newspaper editors had suc-cumbed to the rumors as had most other people.

All this was a very personal experience. Hundreds of search-lights went on, lighting up "barrage balloons" covering the El Segundo areas, and anti-air-craft guns started firing comet-like shells into the dark sky; it was like a movie or weird dream. My mother clutched me in terror while we watched everything from the back bed-room window of our Marine Avenue home. I’ll never forget that image or the fright we felt; although I’m sure it

34


was much less terror than citizens of Honolulu; London, Berlin or Tokyo experienced.

The truth eventually became known that the city had not been bombed and life went on at its hectic pace for better or for worse. Experiencing an "air raid" was beneficial in a way for the people of Los Angeles, because they gained experience in case the real thing ever came. The Japanese had plans to provide the real thing by bombing the city with giant seaplanes if and when conditions were favorable. Those raids never came about, but the Japanese had the planes and wherewithal to accomplish such a raid throughout the war. They actually did create and use Fire Balloons (hydrogen-filled) with a bomb attached to travel 4,000 miles over the Pacific in an attempt to set fire to west coast forests. They were unsuccessful.

Big GunsWith some disappointment I could

find few facts or pictures of the large rail-road guns installed in Manhattan Beach. But they sure were there! On a bluff to the south of our home on Marine and east of Valley Drive, the U.S. Army installed two 8-inch gun batteries that were able to disap-pear on railroad tracks into bunkers dug into the sandy bluffs. These guns, desig-nated the 8-inch MkVI M1 Railway Gun, were installed in 1942 and removed in 1943. They would conduct practice every Friday afternoon, shoot-ing at targets towed by naval boats about two miles out at sea. People living close to the batteries, as we did, were given ad-vance warning before each practice. An Army Jeep would go through our neighborhood with loudspeaker announcements telling everyone to open their windows. If we were home, we would race to the top of Marine and watch the fiery shells leave the cannon and go out to sea attempting to hit the towed target. Rarely did I see them make a direct hit; but they were always close. Maybe that’s close enough for a real shell full of explosives! Each shot resulting in a thunderous, earthshaking explosion; if outside you had to cover your ears. Great stuff for an 8-year old!

35


Jet CrashOne Saturday afternoon in 1950 I was

doing something in the front yard and I heard the roar of an airplane very close to me. I looked up to see a fighter plane com-ing in low from the south with smoke com-ing out of it. It was just a block east of me and came by no higher than about 100 feet. I watched until it went out of sight and then I heard a terrible ex-plosion and then a billowing cloud of fire and smoke coming up from a spot about one mile directly north of me; right up Blanche Road. I jumped on my bicycle and raced up Blanche until I got to Rosecrans Blvd. The sight was horrifying. The fighter plane, a Northrop F-89A Scorpion, had crashed right at the fence of Stan-dard Oil, setting one of the huge oil containers nearby on fire. But worst of all, I could see pieces of bloody flesh hanging from tree branches and the fence in several places. The pilot had bailed out, but his co-pilot was killed.

BlackoutVenice's amusement piers were open throughout the war,

except at night. They were a favorite place for soldiers and sailors on weekend leave. Dance halls were a favorite place to meet local girls. Benny Goodman played swing music at the Ocean Park Pier's Casino Gardens, and Venice's Aragon Ballroom offered the best bands playing country western music, such as Spade Cooley.

When WWII started, it greatly impacted Venice and its sea-side amusement center. A blackout was instilled which allowed only daytime use of the piers and their attractions. During the daytime, Venice became a major draw for sailors and soldiers on weekend leave, and National Guardsmen patrolled the beaches in search of enemy submarines and ships. Country Western and Swing music echoed from the dance halls and casino lounges. It was during these stressful times that I came with my father where I walked around the Venice Pier. The evening curfew was eventu-ally lifted in 1945 and life in Venice returned to normal.

Bacon Grease

36


During WWII access to cloth, specifically silk and nylon which were used for military purposes, was severely limited. Designers and manufacturers were required to uphold certain standards of conservation with a few exceptions. The amount of fabric in cloth-ing was restricted and certain type sleeves were outright banned. People were encouraged to refashion existing clothing into new purposes. Major pattern manufacturers like McCall’s and Butterick issued patterns that taught women how to make new clothing out of their husband’s old suits or how to alter an old dress so that it reflected current fashion. Families learned to sew, mend and re-fashion their clothing. Many sewing centers offered free classes, but there was always second-hand shops offering used clothing.

Those on the home front were not wasters of food either. Cooks were encouraged to use all bits of the food they cooked so as not to waste anything. Even cooking fat (e.g. bacon grease) was saved and brought to grocery stores and lo-cal “drives” so that it could be transformed into household soaps and glycerin for military explo-sives. Nothing was wasted. Food was limited: particularly meat, sugar and butter. Families were encouraged to grow as much of their food as possible with Victory (home-grown) Gardens. They were also encouraged to preserve food through canning at home. Items that required shipment from long distances, such as coffee, were also rationed, as much of the supply was being diverted to troops and ships for military use.

Once again I’m mentioning all this because of strong personal experiences. Families were given Ration Books con-taining specially coded and colored Ra-tion Stamps to use for food, gasoline, and other purchases. Rationing was a system that tried to provide everyone with the same amount of scarce goods. The system was designed to keep prices low and to make sure people had what they needed. Ration Books became a way of life for everyone at

37

http://www.victoryseeds.com/TheVictoryGarden/vg_memories.html

http://www.mccall.com/

http://nikkishell.typepad.com/wardroberefashion/


home during World War II. They were about the size of a postcard. Each one was filled with Ration Stamps. My father had to wheel-and-deal to get extra gas stamps because of his job. I remember my mother handing me a stamp or two to buy meat from the gro-cery store.

I also remember helping my family save up items such as tin foil (now our aluminum foil), ba-con grease (we didn’t have vegetable oil; just Crisco), rubber bands, and even string (these lat-ter two were collected into balls). I would take a saved ball or can to the Safeway downtown for money or tokens.

Likewise fuel oil and gasoline were rationed. Car-sharing was encouraged and people were ac-tively encouraged to lower their temperature and bundle up to stay warm.

Once I went with my father way out to the East LA area be-cause he needed to find a newer tire for his car. Tires were highly rationed, and he quickly wore out his tires due to the amount of driving he did. Times were tough.

Most interesting to me during the war was that we could not buy Fleer’s Double-Bubble chewing gum, the favorite of all kids! My friends and I came up with a home-made concoction to replace our fa-vorite gum. We would scrape the glue off Scotch Tape with our teeth and mix it with regular type gum which was available. Not as flavorful, but at least we could blow bubbles!

The Green HornetWe had a beautiful Zenith floor model radio in our living

room. It must have been a fairly expensive model. It had a large lighted green dial, somewhat like shown in this photo, but ours was cream-white. From 1941 to 1945 our family would regularly listen to news, comedy shows (e.g., Jack Benny; Red Skelton; Fib-ber McGee and Molly), music, and dramas (e.g., Suspense The-ater). I so well remember sitting on the floor in front of the radio listening to something while doing my homework. Remember, we

38

http://www.carsharing.net/


had no television in those days; we didn’t get one until 1950 when I was 15!

My favorites were certain dramas such as Suspense Theater and any one of the many comic-book type radio programs, such as the “Green Hornet”, “Superman”, and “Batman”. To give you an idea what one of the comic-book type shows were like, read on.

The premise of the Green Hornet was that of a modern day Lone Ranger. The main char-acter was Britt Reid, a newspaper publisher of the Daily Sentinel by day and the Green Hornet by night. Britt Reid was supposed to be the great-nephew of the Lone Ranger. Britt Reid's war against crime was an extension of his fam-ily history. The Green Hornet fought crime with his high-powered car, the Black Beauty. He also utilized a gun that fired knockout gas instead of bullets. His fists also came in handy on a regular basis. He was as-sisted by his Filipino valet, Kato. Kato would drive the Black Beauty, keep watch out for the police or the bad guys and some-times lend a helping fist to the fighting. The Green Hornet pre-tended to be a villain while really battling the forces of crime in the big city. This would make for some interesting plot twists as the Green Hornet would be actively avoiding detection by the po-lice while at the same time attempting to destroy criminal activity in the city. Many times the Green Hornet would lead the police to believe that the Green Hornet had been the mastermind of the case at hand. The police would receive an anonymous tip of where they could pick up the now subdued crooks, with the Green Hornet just barely making his escape from the scene. The Green Hornet would be alerted to criminal activity through his job as edi-tor of the Daily Sentinel. The crime stories would lead Britt Reid to transform into the Green Hornet to battle crime at night. The Green Hornet storylines were somewhat similar to Superman sto-ries.

Fighters and BombersSoon after the war started, I began making model airplanes.

I loved everything about fighter and bomber planes we used in

39


the war against Japan. I think I made a boat, but my memories are of all the fighters and some bombers that I made over the course of the war. I was very good at model making; I took my time and crafted and painted them the way the model companies hoped for. I had an X-Acto knife set, and of course model glue. Models were made of balsawood; not plastic as today.

Models I made included the P-47 Thunderbolt; P-51 Mustang; P-38 Lighting (my favorite!); P-39 Airacobra, F-6F Hellcat; B-17 Flying Fortress; B-24 Liberator; B-25 Mitchell; and the F-4U Cor-sair. I hung my models from thread all over my bedroom ceiling; it looked great at night looking up at them from my bed.

The P-39 Airacobra is the plane I be-lieve my half-brother Winton (“Bones”) flew during WWII in the Panama Canal Zone. He really tried to get to get into ac-tion in the Pacific, but the Army Air Force (as the Air Force was called back then), would not let him leave his "Top Gun" training job in Panama.

40


5. MY CLAN

I’ve mentioned that my immediate family was a little dys-functional, with my mother’s problems, and then her leaving us when I was only 13 years old. But overall it was a pretty interest-ing family.

FolksMy father, Dwight Winton Marshall

(1889-1952), was a gentle, quiet and hand-some man. Born in Grand Rapids, Michigan, He looked very much like the actor William Powell (shown here), who portrayed Nick Charles in the “Thin Man” series of movies in the 40’s. At 6’ 1” and about 180 pounds, he always looked handsome and elegant. I never recall him ever putting a hand to me, or even yelling at me for that matter, and he never drank in his entire life. My mother was his second wife; with his first he had two boys: Winton and Donald. He died at 52 of a stroke and is buried at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale.

I remember my mother, Louise Gretchen (Smith) (1911-1978), as being ok, but not very loving to me. I think motherhood “held her down” somehow. Born passing through in El Paso, Texas (she hated that; and asked me never to divulge where she was born), while her parents were relocating from New York to San Diego. She was quite beautiful; looking much like the actress Loretta Young (shown here). I remember that she was a good cook. I was taught at an early age to eat locally-grown products such as artichokes and asparagus. To this date ar-tichokes are one of my favorite foods. I don’t remember much about my mother’s alcohol problem until I was 10 or 11. Whether the re-sult of problems with my dad, her motherhood fears, or my horri-ble facial scars, I’ll never know. My worst memory was when she came one day to pick me up at a Cub Scout meeting; I was terri-

41


bly humiliated by her condition. Her drinking problem had to be a big reason why my father got a divorce when I was 13. He was awarded custody of me and I lived with him until his death from a stroke in 1952, when I was 17. My mother lived somewhere out in the San Fernando Valley. She died at 67 and is buried at Pacific Crest Cemetery in Redondo Beach.

Grand FolksI grew up with three grandparents; my paternal grand-

mother, and both my maternal grandparents. Lillian Winton, my father's mother, lived in a Beverly Hills apartment and I got to see her every few months or so. She died in 1953; well into her 80’s. She was very nice and loved me very much. My maternal grand-parents lived nearby in Redondo Beach so I got to see them much more often.

My maternal grandmother, Louise (Wiederick) Smith, was pure German and was a great cook. She would often cook stews with dumplings. One day I remember being in her kitchen while she prepared a pot. She said “Bobby, look out for this garlic clove when you have your meal!” For years afterwards I thought garlic was something from the devil. It wasn’t until my travels to Spain in 1976 that I learned to love garlic. She passed away, before my grandfather, in her late 70’s. She was a wonderful, loving woman; I will always miss her.

My maternal grandfather, Wood Jeremiah Smith, English her-itage, was born in upstate New York (I love his name!). When I was young they lived in San Diego where he was employed by the U.S. Navy as an industrial architect. He said he designed all the Navy’s waste facilities there. When he retired they moved to Re-dondo Beach, where at age 65, he completely built a home from foundation on up. I was really amazed about that at the time; but now I understand that age really has nothing to do with one’s abil-ity to build things. After the death of my grandmother he moved to an apartment in Inglewood, where, soon after his leg was in-jured by a car, he passed away. He too was a wonderful person and a loving grandfather. I sure remember visiting him regularly after I joined System Development Corporation in Santa Monica. SDC’s weekly/monthly publication always contained a very tough math puzzle; and we would have fun solving each week’s puzzle.

42


HalvesHalf-brother Win-

ton Whittier (Bones) Marshall and wife Mil-dred (Millie) had two children; first a boy, then a girl from whom they now have several grandchildren. Born in Beverly Hills and at-tending Beverly Hills High School, he joined the Army Air Force at 22, spending his career there. He met Millie when she was one of the very few female pilots in the Army’s Woman’s Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) unit. Their son was killed surfing in Hawaii while just a teenager. Of course it was a terrible loss to them. I saw them every few years or so, but as much as I would have liked, we never became that close. Now over 90, they live in Hon-olulu, Hawaii.

Bones finally got into action in the Korean War. In 1951, pi-loting an F-86E Saber Jet, he became the fifth U.S. Jet Ace of the Korean War, credited with 6½ enemy aircraft destroyed (one with another pilot) and six damaged (note all the red stars on his F-86). He eventually went on to become Vice Commander of the Seventh Air Force in Vietnam, basically running the Vietnam Air War, and later as Vice Commander in Chief, Pacific Air Forces. He retired as a 3-Star Lieutenant General. His honors, all with numer-ous “Clusters”, include the Distinguished Service Cross; Silver Star; Legion of Merit; Distinguished Flying Cross; Bronze Star; Air Medal; and Purple Heart; this the result of a “dogfight” with a Mig-15 piloted by Russia’s most famous ace. The photo below was taken at a recent ceremony at Hickam AFB dedicating his "Mr. Bones" F-86 for permanent display. In 1951 Bones took me up for an hour ride in a P-80 Shooting Star twin-seat trainer jet. We flew around the Los Angeles area. Boy was I was a lucky kid!

43


In 2009 Millie was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal for her services as a WASP in WWII. She is on the right in photo.

My half-brother Donald Fisher Marshall and I were much closer. After the war he became a policeman in Honolulu, Hawaii, marrying a beautiful Japanese woman, and raised two nice kids. At some point they moved to Manhattan Beach where again he became a policeman. A year or two after our father's death he got remarried to a wonderful woman, Helen, and they had four chil-dren. They moved to Riverside and Don became an insurance agent. They lived there happily until his death in 1979, from cancer, at 58. I’m very sad to say that I failed to keep track of Helen and the kids after that. Don left two children from a first wife, and four children from his second.

Rich UncleMy father’s brother, McKee (Mac) Winton Marshall (1898-?), was in-volved somehow in the futures invest-ment business; oil maybe. He was com-pletely bald and looked a bit like “Daddy Warbucks” from the “Little Or-phan Annie” cartoon series, and always seemed to be rolling in money. When in town he would stay at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills. Once when he came to visit us in 1952 he brought with him two gorgeous, fancy-dressed 22-24-year old women, obviously his girlfriends; movie starlet-type. When he and my father went out for the evening on some business, the two gals convinced me (I was 17) to go downtown Manhattan Beach with them for dinner at a nice restaurant. Call me stupid, but I got very uncomfortable sitting with them in the restaurant, being eyed by all the other patrons. Well, as I got more uncomfortable, I got up, excused myself, and walked home. I kick myself about that to this day!

44


Uncle Mac was later convicted of some kind of investment fraud scheme and was sent to prison. I don’t know if he died in prison or was released. In any event I never heard from him again. At the time it really upset me that he didn’t hold to his promise to buy me a new car upon graduation. Uncle Mac’s son from his earlier marriage was Eddie. I met Eddie a few times, once when he returned on leave from serving as a U.S. Army Sergeant in the 3rd Infantry Division that invaded the Sicilian Campaign. He wore several medals on his uniform for bravery and other accom-plishments. Medal of Honor winner and to-become-movie star Ed-die Murphy fought in that campaign.

45


6. GO SEAHAWKS!

High school life for me was a mixed set of emotions. I enjoyed it, but I didn’t concentrate on my homework or study hard for tests, so grades suffered. I was far more interested in beach activi-ties, fishing, model making, my jobs, and hanging out with friends. I had as much fun as the next kid when it came to typical high school life and all that it offered. So for better or worse, I got through high school.

Learning My ABC’sAs mentioned earlier, I went to RUHS in Redondo Beach. I

came by bus for the first year or so, and then by my Whizzer mo-tor bicycle. I bought my own car soon after graduation. In those days school parking lots were mostly for faculty, not kids! Very few kids had cars in their senior year; none of my friends did. I re-member a girl we all knew getting a brand new car from her par-ents as a graduation gift; we were all amazed at her good fortune.

In those days there was no such thing as a backpack. Kids carried their load of books from class to class with a hand holding them on the hip. As I remember it was a heavy load to carry around.

Inherently I was a pretty smart guy. Tests I’ve taken were al-ways in the high numbers. I did ok in some subjects, but did very poorly in others, with an overall C-average. I graduated from RUHS in '52 and in the fall started classes at El Camino College in Torrance. After my father’s sudden death on September 8th of that year I had to quit due to my need for a full-time job; so I was on my own at 17. I rented a tiny upstairs apartment just off Rose-crans Avenue and got a job at Douglas Aircraft in one of their vast warehouses.

After joining the Air Force at 20 I took evening college classes for three years (all math courses). Then after leaving the Air Force in 1958 I took more math classes at Santa Monica Col-lege and UCLA. I never again received a grade less that an A.

Being Cool

46


Of course the best part of high school to me was sports; whether as a team member, or as a spectator. We were the RUHS Seahawks, and our colors were red and white. Through my four years I became a member of the basketball team, the track team, and the tennis team, all on the C-squad. We had a swimming team, and I was a good swimmer, but I never tried out for the team. Understand that volleyball was not recognized anywhere as a school sport yet; and I guess surfing still isn’t. I tried out for one of the 400-600 yard-class running teams, but I was better at high jump and shot-put for my size-class.

As it still is today, going to the school Friday night football games was the most fun, especially the home games. When my father started letting me take his car to the games, I would deco-rate it with red and white streamers. Then I would load the car with some very willing friends (guys and gals) and head off to the game. I always had to bring the car back right after the game. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I never had a steady girlfriend while in school. I dated a couple of times, and took someone to a dance or two, but never attempted to get into any kind of steady relationship.

Some families in Palos Verdes put together a Luau at the Por-tuguese Bend Beach Club on the Palos Verdes Peninsula. As it is with high school kids everywhere, news soon spread about the party and lots of kids crashed it. It was a real Hawaiian feast, with roast pig, fish, other foods, fruit punch drinks, and music. I guess there were parents around but I didn’t pay attention to them. We snuck beer in with us and soon got drinking to get into the mood. All I can remem-ber now is that I ended upstairs in some part of the beach club with a girl I knew; along with dozens of other couples, with all couples en-gaged in “necking” to one degree or another. I think my gal dropped me when she realized that I had consumed too much beer and couldn’t concentrate on what she wanted me to do. Darn!

47

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kalua_pig


The type clothes I wore throughout high school were much like it is at other beach spots. I wore either a white t-shirt or a Hawaiian shirt (there were great ones as shown here). For pants it was usually Levi’s, but once in a while I wore white pants called peggers (similar to our Dockers). For shoes it was either Penny Loafers or Ked’s tennis shoes (flip-flops didn’t exist yet). We would rub mercury on a dime and insert it into the top of the loafer. Socks were always white. As for wearing Levi’s, there was a certain ritual that just had to be followed. First of all they had to be prewashed and preshrunk at home several times to get as much of the blue out as we could, and to shrink them up a bit. My mother hated this job; I would say: “Pleeeease Mom! “ Nowadays Levi’s are prewashed and preshrunk. Then we cre-ated a very small cuff; I think 2-3 turns, ending up less than an inch in width. Wearing them had to be just right too. They were NEVER worn up at the waist; they had to be pulled down as low as we could get away with, but never would we allow our underwear to show like kids today. John Timon wore a white t-shirt 365 days a year. We were all so cool!

Staying Put at RUHSUntil I was in the 11th grade the only high school in the local

area was RUHS, and kids from Manhattan, Hermosa and Redondo went there. In 1951 they opened a new high school in Manhattan Beach called Mira Costa. But to get the school started they only opened school for the 9th and 10th grades. Being a junior that year, I stayed at RUHS. Just as well; we all hated the prospect of going to the new school. Mira Costa soon became a powerhouse in sports.

48


7. REALLY GROWING UP

I believe it’s true that kids grew up faster in times past. Most children were taught to work around the house, get small jobs to earn money, and fend more for themselves. In my case I believe it was a little more extreme than for most others.

In 1948 I was only 13 and in the 8th grade when my mother left us. At that point I basically was on my own as my father was always 100% busy with his work either at home or away visiting customers. I don’t remember my father having much to do with me; though he was always kind and loving, never laying a hand on me. He was helped a bit by regular visits from my maternal grandparents who lived nearby in Redondo Beach; and once or twice a week I went to their house to visit. But besides that, I was really on my own. School, jobs, model-making, going to the beach, and being with friends kept me occupied.

As I got older and worked through several jobs, I realized that the only way to have any level of success was to work hard, follow instructions, show up on time, and present myself in a dig-nified way at all times. This isn’t that easy; but I think being on my own so much gave me attitude and behavior characteristics that would do well for me. This certainly held true for my career with SDC as I was promoted quickly over the next many years.

After being at Douglas, meeting my future wife Joan there, and frustrated over several things, I joined the Air Force Strategic Air Command (SAC) soon after I became 20. Four months after turning 21, in May 1956, on leave from the USAF, we mar-ried. David was born nine months later. That’s when I really grew up!

49


EPILOGUE

Of course an adult’s attitude and be-havior is influenced by his or hers upbring-ing as a child, and that by the time a child gets to middle school, their “character” has been locked in cement.

As this memoir describes, my upbring-ing was a combination of very happy times along with severe traumatic times. It’s easy to speculate as to which events influenced me more into my adult life. Clearly my mother's problems and WWII had the big-gest impact on me at my young age. The environment that I de-scribe in this memoir, occurring through WWII and up to 1952, is one that molded me into a very pro-American citizen, with basic conservative principles.

I’m thrilled that I have taken time to put these memories to paper. It didn’t take that long. I’m now nearing 80, as shown here. I hope that my children and grandchildren will be pleased that I did. Maybe it will be read by my great-grandchildren someday…I hope so anyway! In any event I’m glad it’s done…getting this all out has been “chicken soup for the soul”.

But gotta go now, surf’s up!

_________________________For more information contact The Manhattan Beach Historical Society and Museum at www.manhattanbeachhistorical.org

50

Memoirs of a Beachboy - Growing Up in Manhattan Beach CA

Documents