American Dreams (41 page)

enormous spread of horns bolted out of an alley, looked for a target, and charged the taxi. The desperate driver sounded his klaxon. Hardly fazed, the steer raked the side of the auto with the tip of a horn, uttered a baleful bellow, then lumbered on toward a woman in the middle of the street; she immediately fainted in her husband's arms. The steer trotted away as two men waving prods ran out of the alley in pursuit.

'Somebody forgot to shut a gate at the stockyards,' the driver remarked.

'There's a stockyard here?'

'Oh, a big one. Place is kind of an overgrown farm town, y'know?'

She didn't know when she arrived, but she was learning fast.

The Hollywood Hotel, constructed in 1903, boasted a handsome cupola at its corner entrance. Atop the cupolaan American flag waved bravely in the storm wind. The two-story hotel had a broad veranda and a comfortable, welcoming appearance. Its address was a misnomer, however. Hollywood

'Boulevard' was a dirt road full of mud holes. A trolley track ran down the center, and telephone poles marched away toward the city some four or five miles behind them. Hollywood the town looked empty, rural, and uncivilized -- nothing but farmhouses, roadhouses, liveries, and small citrus groves with many desolate vacant lots in between.

'Is Hollywood a separate town, driver?'

'Was, but isn't anymore. The folks voted to annex to Los Angeles so they could hook up to the water. Engineer named Mulholland's bringing it down from the Owens Valley, two hundred fifty miles. Line should be finished in two, three years.'

Fritzi gave the man a twenty-cent tip and handed her bags to a bellhop.

In her modest but comfortable second-floor room she found a note of welcome from Sophie Pelzer, together with a bowl of golden California poppies and a small stack of flyers advertising houses and rooms to let.

Sophie had marked these with arrows and underlines, and written a message on one. All these areas are safe for young ladies, Mr. Pelzer made sure.

She spent the rest of the day unpacking and listening to the rain and wondering about her future. After a quick supper in the hotel dining room she tumbled into bed with a distinct feeling of disappointment about California.

Next morning, while she was at breakfast, B.B. showed up. He operated her hand like a pump handle while apologizing for stranding her in 256

California

Page 273

Glendale. 'I had this fella hired, he promised to be there. When I didn't hear from him by six last night, I ran over to the garage where he keeps his car. He said he wouldn't risk the car in the storm, so he didn't go to Glendale. By then I figured you'd either got here or hopped the next train back to New York, mad.'

'The former,' Fritzi said with a tolerant smile. 'When may 1 start work?'

'Not until the weather's better and we finish the outdoor stage. It's way behind schedule. I think the sunshine makes the locals lazy. I want you to see the lot we leased for a studio. It's in a little neighborhood called Edendale, ain't far from here. But there's no point in you swimming through mud to do it. Till the sun comes out you might as well look for a room. We'll pay taxis and carfare.'

As if that was all it would take to relieve her feelings of gloom about this primitive and soggy place at the end of the continent.

The rain stopped. The sun came out. Steam rose from Hollywood's muddy roads, but not so much as to hide the hills framing the town to the north and northeast. West and south, the flat land ran to the ocean.

Flyers in hand, Fritzi set out to find a room. The weather allowed her to walk. Though she had to hike up her skirt to avoid puddles, it was a small price for a better view of the little residential community nestled in the largely empty countryside.

The homes she passed were conventional Victorian dwellings, usually two stories, mostly white with colorful shutters. They were widely scattered on the main and side streets, with two and three vacant lots between.

She marched up the walk to the veranda of a handsome clapboard residence on Selma, double-checked the number in the flyer, and knocked.

She'd donned a pair of white gloves to attempt to look ladylike.

'I've come about the room,' she said to the elderly man who answered the door. 'Is it still available?'

'Yes, 'tis. Won't you step in?'

She followed him into a Victorian foyer properly cluttered with potted plants and bric-a-brac. A woman called from the kitchen, 'Who is it, Herschel?'

'Young lady about the room.' To Fritzi he said, 'I'm Mr. Moore.'

'Very pleased to know you, I'm Fritzi Crown.'

'New in California, are you? This way,' he said, heading for the staircase.

Page 274

Welcome to Los Angeles

257

'I am. I've come out for a few months to make pictures.'

She saw his back stiffen under his galluses. Rigid on the fourth step, he held the banister tightly for a moment before coming down to confront her.

'Do I understand you're a movie?'

'I'm afraid I don't know that word, Mr. Moore.'

'Movie -- someone who performs in pictures. The pictures move, they're movies. The actors move too, one room or hotel to the next, one step ahead of the sheriff or the credit man.' He emphasized this with a wild swing of his arm that almost clipped her nose. 'Never know whether they'll skip out in the night without paying what they owe. Folks in this town don't like movies. You should go back East where you came from, you're not wanted here.'

Mr. Moore observed his wife in the hallway, wiping her floured hands on her apron. He coughed nervously and said to Fritzi, 'Nothing personal, you understand.'

'Oh, no, of course not. I'm sorry I troubled you.'

Worse was in store the next afternoon, Sunday. Fritzi rode a Pacific Electric trolley to Santa Monica to look at a two-room flat. The ocean was two blocks away, breaking and crashing sonorously.

A lank woman with wrinkled gray skin opened the door. Sunlight through panels of stained glass luridly illuminated a stack of circulars on a table. Christian crusade for whoi^esome entertainment. A subsidiary line identified its home as Pasadena.

'It is not my habit to do business on the Lord's day, young woman.'

'Well, your ad didn't mention that. I have a feeling I should tell you I'm an.actress in pictures.'

The lank woman snatched a circular and thrust it at her. 'Read this. You ungodly people should get down on your knees and beg the Lord's forgiveness.

You're poisoning minds with your filth and vulgarity'

'Pardon me, I'm not out to poison anyone or anything. I'm only trying to rent--'

The woman interrupted, waving her arms and shouting. Fritzi heard

'Christian values,' 'Satan's work,' and 'whore of Babylon' before she fled.

Page 275

She threw the pamphlet into the gutter, then felt guilty about littering and retrieved it. She fanned herself with the paper, thinking, If the crusade soldiers are all like her, 1 hope I never meet the general.

258

California

In seven more tries over the next three days, she found nothing except discouragement. At one house a placard had been tacked by the door to forestall conversation.

NO JEWS, NO PETS, NO ACTORS

She began to feel she'd die an old maid at the Hollywood Hotel. She had developed an active loathing for the narrow-minded citizens of Hollywood. In a town like this, the pictures -- no, the movies, she must remember they were called that out here, along with the people who acted in them - in Hollywood the movies had no future. None.

As she ate lunch in the hotel dining room, she noticed a young woman watching her from another table. The girl was on the plump side, with a round, plain face enlivened by striking blue eyes and a lot of curly red hair that gleamed like a halo. She'd seen the young woman in the lobby the night before. Then as now she looked tired, as though she stayed up late.

The girl walked over to Fritzi.

i've seen you reading ads for days. Are you looking for a place to live?'

'Yes, and I'm having no luck. It seems all the landlords in this town hate picture people. Movies, they call them now.'

The girl nodded. 'I had to go all the way to Venice to find a spot. But I did, the whole second floor of a nice house near the beach. With its own inside privy,' the girl said with a smile Fritzi found engaging. The girl extended her hand. 'My name's Lily Madison.'

'Fritzi Crown. It's really Frederica, but I hate that. Will you sit down?'

'For a minute. I'm moving today.' Lily pulled up a chair. Her clothes weren't expensive, but they were well chosen for her coloring: a stylish shirtwaist of black lawn, embroidered with small green flowers; a pale green linen skirt; a racy dark gray cap; mannish oxfords with shiny patent leather tips. All very nobby, as Hobart would say.

i assume you work for a picture company, then?' the girl asked.

'Pal Pictures. I believe their lot's in Edendale. I haven't seen it yet. Are
Page 276

you an actress?'

'Oh, no. I write stories. That is, I'm trying. I just sold one to Nestor, a silly little melodrama about a bank robbery. I got fifteen dollars for it.'

'Congratulations. Is that your ambition, to write scenarios?'

'Yes. 1 like the life down here. The picture business is fun. The people Welcome to Los Angeles

259

are fun. And I like to make up stories. I'm think I'm pretty good at it, I've had lots of practice. When I was growing up and it was a gray day or something bad happened - oh, I mean in school - I'd run off to my room and write a story on my chalk slate. Not very long, a slate's not that big, you know? But I always felt better afterward.'

'I can understand that. Where's your home, Lily?'

She didn't answer for a moment. 'Santa Rosa. Hick town north of San Francisco.'

'Oh, yes,' Fritzi said vaguely.

'Look, I don't mean to be forward, but I'm eager to find someone to share expenses.'

'You mean your landlord would tolerate two movies under one roof?'

Lily .laughed. 'Yes, Mr. Hong will. Mr. Hong runs a little chop suey house near the Venice pier. His grandfather came to California from Canton in the Gold Rush, but Mr; Hong's still barred from all kinds of places in California. He understands having doors slammed in your face.

He's a third-generation American, and he still has to sleep with a shotgun, he showed it to me.'

Fritzi pondered. 'Isn't Venice a long way from this part of town?'

'Not all that far by trolley. You take the Venice branch into the city, that's about a half hour. The cars run about every twenty minutes on weekdays. The cars are clean, and on a sunny day the ride's very pleasant.

I guarantee you'd like Mr. Hong's house. There's a small room in front converted to a parlor, and two big bedrooms.' Fritzi liked it sight unseen; Lily Madison's enthusiasm was infectious.

Lily jumped up. 'Come look at it, won't you? If you don't like it, there's no obligation. Tell you what. I'll even pay the delivery man fifty cents to bring you back.'

Page 277

.'Yes, why not?' Fritzi said, pleased.

Lily took her hand, and they started for the street like a couple of school chums. Maybe her search was over.

Venice, California, down on the tidal flats of Santa Monica Bay, was no Venice, Italy, though the developer, one Abbot Knney, had hoped to duplicate the great city in miniature when he opened the tract in 1904. He built pretty canals, but now they were fouled by decomposing cabbages and orange peels and, Fritzi was horrified to see on her walk from the trolley, someone's four-legged friend floating in a state of rigor mortis.

260

California

The homes along the canals seemed well tended, though not opulent.

To the west, where the sun glittered on the sea, a Ferris wheel revolved in silhouette and a calliope chirped 'Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life.' Fritzi said,

'What's down there, an amusement park?'

'Yes, rides and booths along the boardwalk,' Lily nodded. 'That part of town's doing better than around here.' Which was evident from two For Sale signs and several more saying To Let.

The neat and compact house of Mr. and Mrs. Hong backed up on one of the less odorous waterways. Lily let herself in with a key; the owners were already at their chop suey palace, as she called it. With a lively step she led Fritzi up the stairway in the center of the front hall. At the top, slightly to the left, was the precious private bathroom she'd mentioned.

Floored in small white tiles, octagon-shaped, it was dominated by a throne-like water closet with a wooden wall tank and pull chain. The claw-footed tub looked strong as a small battleship.

Lily took her hand and drew her to the front sitting room. Tall windows flooded the old but serviceable furniture with a golden patina. Mrs. Hong had placed several potted palms around the room to create a sense of being in a garden. Curtains of sun-yellowed lace fluttered and snapped.

The smell of the salt sea blew on the afternoon breeze.

'So much light, it's wonderful,' Fritzi exclaimed.

Lily grinned. 'That's California. You'll get used to it.'

Lily's spacious bedroom was on the left as you faced the front of the house. The other, on the right next to the stairs, was only half as large, but furnished with a good dresser, an upright wardrobe with a long mirror on the door, a side table and chair, a single bed, and three electric lamps. The Hongs clearly weren't cheapskates bent on gouging their
Page 278

tenants.

Sounding a little breathless, Lily said, 'Do you like it?'

'Perfect. Oh, there's one thing. Are we allowed to cook?'

'There's no gas up here. Mrs. Hong lets me use the kitchen. She and her husband leave early and come home late, so they're hardly around. Can you cook?'

'No.'

'I can, but I hate it. Actually, I hoped for a roomie whose father was a chef,' Lily teased.

'I can fry bread in a skillet, and salt and pepper a boiled egg. We'll manage. How much is the rent?'

'Five dollars a week, or eighteen if Mrs. Hong's paid by the month.