MAGPIE TALE: The Lemon Lacerations

This is our latest entry in the Magpie Tales series.

When Tede Truxler's confrontational photo essay exhibit "The Lemon Lacerations" was unveiled at the San Gabriel Valley Art Association's Spring Solstice exhibit in Monrovia in April of 1962, it did far more than raise eyebrows. How could this Cal Tech junior and great grand daughter of one of the Valley's pioneers create such confrontational images that seemed to cut at the very core of the area's culture and history?

To understand, we must go back to 1879 when Trudy Truxler, a recently divorce young woman of 22 arrived in what was then known as La Cienega Mud Springs and would eventually become San Dimas and home of Sunkist and other iconic citrus brands.

But Trudy -- a tough cookie with a shot-gun, moxie and a dream -- was the first to package fruit and send it east, launching the Harmony Brand. Around 1883 she developed a not entirely cladenstine relationship with Glendale attorney Asa V. Jessup, a married father of six and deacon in the Missionary Baptist Church. When Trudy gave birth to her twins, Randall and Russell Truxler, she gave little mind to the gossip or the snickers of neighbor children who dubbed the boys the Romulus and Remus of La Cienega Mud Springs. Randall was tragically killed just after turning eight when caught in the rushing water of Putah Creek during the torrential rains of late January. Russell worked steadily in the lemon groves and would soon be running the business with Trudy who named him chief of operations on his 18th birthday.
By the turn of the Century, Harmony was one of the most successful citrus packagers in the west. Russell had married into Pasadena's most respected families, the Troxdales of the railroad and telegraph fortunes, and his first born, Tessie Claire, was the model for many of the Harmony brand labels. His wife, Lurelle, gave tea parties attended by the Valley's most prestigious women. Tea might not always include sugar and milk and dainty English biscuits, but wedges of lemon were always artfully displaying on the china service.

Trudy refused to conform to her expected role of the grand old lady of the valley and was known to spit tobacco into a small tin can she carried to the San Gabriel Valley Citrus Growers Association at the Hotel L'Orange on Pasadena's Colorado Boulevard. And the otherwise all male institution never voted her an officer though she was one of the most successful in their ranks and had a fortune that equaled their summed assets.

When Trudy died in 1911, all the Valley's aristocracy came out and praised her with platitudes they denied her during her life time. "An inspiration and model of Christian virtue," read one of the shallow, insincere tributes from one of the many citrus growers angling to buy up part of the Truxler groves.
Having no time to morn the loss of the visionary matriarch, Russell had the vision for a new outlet for Harmony, launching Lemonland in 1913, California's first true theme park that predated Disneyland by nearly half a century.

Though some of its exhibits and rides bordered on the bizarre -- such as the 40 foot citrus tikis at the entrance -- it drew crowds from as far away as Eugene and Boulder.

Between Lemonland and contracts with both Safeway and A&P, the Truxler fortunes only increased in the subsequent years, and they sailed through the depression without a care.

Their parties at the family mansion, Truxlerala, were legendary. Until Hearst Castle was built, it was the largest private home west of the Mississippi.

In the postwar years, Harmony continued strong but seemed to plateau and slowly saw operation costs rise as real estate development encroached the Valley and higher paying jobs took away cheap labor.

Yet LIFE magazine did a feature on the firm and Russell, modestly dressed in farm clothes in an article titled "The Lemon of His Eye". Russell's daughter Tessie Claire, one of the most successful realtors in the Valley, was quoted as saying "My father's dream is to build an opera house named after my grandmother." Tessie's brother Clement was shown with his baby daughter Tede, said to have the same brilliant violet eyes of her great grandmother and an equally independent spirit.

After Russell's death in 1957, Lemonland eventually closed, and the family introduced Truxlerite, a chemical substance that claimed to have "essence of lemon juice extract" but was mostly a chemical compound created in a lab at Cal Tech. By the time Eisenhower left the White House, most of their income from providing the all important citrus scent in dish soap, toilet bowl cleaners and other "lemon inspired" products.

It was around the same time that Tede's "independent spirit" at St. Gremadine Academy was blossoming into full rebellion. She excelled in no class but photographic arts and shocked the academy when she used remote control cameras to capture nuns unawares on their toilets and in their showers. The Eye of Creation Gallery in Santa Monica was the first to exhibit her show "Breaking Habits" that earned such scorn from the Diocese that even Bing Crosby wrote a scathing letter to the LA Times condemning it. "NOT Going My Way" the headline to his letter read.

So it was not a complete shock when Tede's exhibit of blood strewn citrus, of bananas performing vulgar acts on kiwis was unveiled. Yet a lone critic from Horizon arts quarterly praised it as a beacon amongst the hubris of the New Frontier. Soon the exhibit was praised from Venice Beach to the canals of Venice. Tede resettled in Buenos Aires until the military junta when she returned to Los Angeles, a city as changed as she was. Having exhausted her range in still photography, she had a brief career as a script doctor with American International Pictures and later Avco Embassy before working in television. From the late 1970s onward, she worked on a teleplay about her great-grandmother called "Lemon Lady" and had serious talks with Meredith Baxter Birney about playing the role of Trudy. Financing never came through, and Tede was so intent that she seriously considered selling the shopping mall in San Dimas where Lemonland once stood and whose property her family still owned.

Today Tede dedicates most of her time to collage, paintings of lemons and selling Beanie Babies on Ebay from her condo in Pomona. The Truxler legend may have lost its luster, but there are those who speculate that Tede still has one last act she has yet to unveil.

Canyon Dreams

Have you ever been curious why some old thought or experience keeps coming back to you for no apparent reason, and then you step into a music or book store and there is an embodiment of it? That happened to me tonight after a week or so of Laurel Canyon coming into conversations several times for no apparent reason after not thinking of the place for years, and then tonight I walked into Dog Eared Books and came across the book Canyon of Dreams. It embodies the amber hued southern California music and film world of the late 1960s and early 1970s that held a fascination to me when I was a pre-teen. How fitting that I'll be back down there in a couple of weeks.

I'm especially pleased to see multiple references to Mama Cass' house which served as the Gertrude Stein salon of the era. There are a lot of references to the long forgotten Nurit Wilde who seems to embody the era more than even the better known of the era. While I am pleased that there is a fair amount of reference to Tim Buckley, I was saddened that Juddee Sill is not mentioned once.

One of my favorite references to that era was k.d. lang's Invincible Summer, an under-rated album that makes my least favorite season seem almost appealing.

And this site has some good history of the canyon.

Making the Case for No. 22

Though I prefer the works of Maybeck and Morgan, I must admit an admiration for Case Study House No. 22. I also had all of the Tonka trucks in the holiday shot.

Octo-Art

Another reason to get back down south soon as noted in this LA Times article.

Now I Know What Nothing Means, But I Keep On Playing

Other good ones:

"I've got a hand full of aces, but I don't know what the game is."

"If I wanted to read my mail, I wouldn't have moved."

Interactive Saturday: The Search for the Weirdest Amusement Park

Yesterday's jaunt through Alpine Village got me to thinking of all the odd roadside attractions I've seen in my life. Epcot/Six Flags/White Water style franchises board me even as a child. The weirder, more mom-and-pop the better. A highlight of a trip my family made to Mount Rushmore (which is pretty tacky on its own merits or the lack there of) in the 1960s was a side trip to the Flintstones' Bedrock City in Custer, South Dakota.

Since we visited during off season, my parents were disappointed that my sister and I didn't have any other kids to explore the place with and play with. That was the whole joy of the experience for us and the pleasure of touring Mr. Granitebilt's house without having to hear the chatter of semi-literate middle schoolers.

My visit to the Alpine Village a very deja vu quality, and this morning it reminded me that we used to visit the Hummel Holiday Village on Route 66 in Oklahoma City with its Pine Shop and dozens of Hummel and German crystal peddlers. Unlike the Alpine Village, it was actually built on a small hill with lots of rocks and pine trees, that in the snowy winter actually looked a tad like Germany.

So do you have a favorite bizarre roadside attraction? Or is there one on this side that most appeals to you? I really need to visit that one in Vietnam the next time I go.

UPDATE: And since it keeps coming up in comments, here is a virtual tour of South of the Border (a.k.a. Pedroland) on I-95 in South Carolina. It's worth sticking through to the end to see the chicken into being whipped.

Le Spectre de l'Orange

If you are from Mid-America, you can always feel at home in Orange County since it's just like Mid-America except more so. It's got even more crazy right-wingers, evangelicals and sprawl than you'll find in suburban Kansas City or Cincinatti.

Today, I started off early by making a talk at 7 a.m. at the high-toned Pacific Club in Huntington Beach, down the street from John Wayne International Airport and where the Duke himself was reportedly a member. After a day of many meetings, I had a quick respite in Laguna Beach (documented earlier) before I settled in to the weirdest La Quinta on the planet in Irvine "Old Town". Someone got the bright idea of putting the motel in an old...grain elevator! Now haven't you always wanted to spend the night in a grain elevator? Besides having some rough hewn concrete walls, it's a generic motel room with a great view and audio of the Metrolink whizzing by. I try to pretend I'm in an old New York flat next to the El.

This evening I decided to venture over to the Irvine Spectrum, an Italian themed outdoor shopping court with many of the familiar big city shops but with an Orange County twist.

Some things are just like they are in an urban area, such as H&M. Their "eurosizing" conversion chart is the same as it is in SF or NYC:

XXXL = Medium
L = XS
M = Suitable for an embryo to wear

I stepped into Urban Outfitters and was dazed. It was brightly lit with cheerful music and all the clothes -- even the sale items -- were perfectly ironed, in perfect order and easy to reach. The clerks greeted me with smiles.

Clerks in Southern California and the South greet you with the same five words, but the cadence is decidedly different:

The South "How may I help you?"
Orange County: "How may I help you?"

I strolled down the Umbria lane of the Irvine Spectrum and decided to have dinner at Maki Maki where I had Makeral Yaki, but my Ecuadorean server had trouble understanding my Japanese. First they offered to seat on the outdoor terrace which sounded great since it was a gorgeous night in the low 60s to high 50s. I stepped on the terrace, and they had outdoor heaters going, and it must have been 98! I quickly objected, since knew my sushi would be broiled the second it arrived. Outdoor heaters are annoying enough in San Francisco but truly ridiculous in Southern California.

I strolled further through the Spectrum, noticing the line outside the Cheesesteak Factory just like in Overland Park or Union Square and all the faux European ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds with a hint of a patina of age, but that patina well scrubbed enough to avoid look actually old.

It was a bit of a shock to notice no stores or restaurants had signs in their windows such as "No Outside Food" or "Restrooms for Customers" only.

Strolling further past the Beauty Planet I noticed Torrid (or was it Torrid!) Plus Size fashions. I'm curious if the torrid refers to the customers or the fashion.

These thoughts filled my head as I drove away, recognizing as I exited the parking lot to get on the 405 that the Irvine Spectrum is at the intersection of Fortune and Enterprise. If time allows tomorrow, I may go to the Alpine Village and know I have really made the most of my free time in between appointments.

What We're Seeing...on Laguna Beach

I'm Here Tonight

Missing the Bow, thinking about how I should be doing a lot of things in life differently, thinking about the brevity of life, thinking about changes, thinking about and doing not enough yoga, thinking about not thinking so much

IHOP, Please Hold the Kraut Hate!

Why is it that when it comes to ethnic stereotypes, no one every objects when Germans are targets? Whip wielding or goosestepping Nazis or fat beer and streudel consumes, people seem to have no fun making fun of them, even the arbiter of taste Benny Hill with his running gag about "die Schöne Mädchen mit die Grosse Titzen."

Bryce Digdug often makes references to Torrance's Alpine Village which in on one of the flattest spots in southern California. I need to add it to my list of outrageous SOCAL sites the next time I am there. When I visited last month, my heart ached as I whizzed by both the Crystal Cathedral and the TBN fairytale castle TV headquarters and did not have time to stop to take photos and a tour. We'll always have Precious Moments Gardens and Chapel...

A Quick View from the Road

Hi gang. Sorry that there's not much reporting this week as I am in San Luis Obispo, Santa Ynez, Santa Barbara, Ventura, Burbank, Pasadena, Los Angeles, Santa Ana and Santa Monica all in the course of less than three and a half days. Wish I'd been able to add in an LA area blogger meet up but maybe next time. This is a view from my hotel window in SLO.

First We Take Manhattan

In barely 48 hours, I'll be arriving in Manhattan for a jam packed weekend highlighted by the great blogger meet up. If you didn't already get the news, plan to be at the SOHO Grand Lounge this Saturday, September 27, 6:30 - 8:30 p.m. Other mischief and adventures will precede and follow.

And if you've not seen the video promoting this convergence, it is here.

Special thanks to the lovely Salty Miss Jill for making this happen.
ATTENTION LA AND PORTLAND BLOGGERS: I'll be in Oregon October 6-9 and LA October 27-31 +/- . I'd love to meet some of you on those trips if anyone has suggestions. I promise to host something here in SF soon.

It's Been a While

I have been in full tilt crazy busy mode since Wednesday that began with a DBI inspection of my building as it is transformed from TIC to condo (good news for me, albeit with fees, inspectors peeking into closets and cabinets, and a lot of repairs). Thursday I made a quick day trip to a memorial for a 92-year-old donor who was an amazing, liberal spirit, having campaigned for Upton Sinclair in the 1930s as a college student.

This weekend I have been speaking at screenings of the new Sundance documentary Flow: For Love of Water. It's definitely worth checking out. To date I've not talked much about my work life here but am rethinking that. I've thought about launching a parallel site for that and maybe one for Guru. But, well, there's not that much time in a day.

Check out Flow here and consider signing Article 31 of the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It takes two seconds, and it could be your contribution to saving a life halfway across the globe. Go here to sign on.

The Best Westboro Baptist Confrontation. Ever.

Hey, do you know where I can score some poppers?

Summer Viewing

Though I certainly won't be going to see the Indiana Jones, Batman or other blockbusters this summer (I'll wait until they're on the small screen of an airlines), I am compelled to go see Wall-E, despite the generally glowing reviews. Besides a brilliant repurposing of Hello, Dolly!, its first third is all about junk, for Chirsakes.

Today, I managed to go see a lesser hyped but still still heavily promoted summer film, Chris and Don. Fortunately it lived up to the hype. Though not exactly groundbreaking as a documentary, there was some interesting innovations. Seeing a tale of a 30 year relationship made me think of my own series that, in the end, mirror a bento box -- a series of compartmentalized treats that don't touch that range from sweet to crunchy to slightly nutty to fish -- most of them forgotten by tea time the same afternoon.

Junk Thief Visits The City of Unnatural History

I am back from four days in San Diego, a place I've not visited in at least three years and have suffered not a second because of my absence.

My stay was at the incredibly odd Manchester Grand Hyatt at a productive conference but a conference all the same.

The waterfront and and convention center areas embody what I tried so hard to keep an open mind about but just could not help coming back to my long standing assessment: everything in San Diego is either bland, freshly dusted and sterile or smarmy, spooky and spiky.

Downtown has the feeling of having cropped up around 2003 with no sense of place or history.

The "historic" Gaslight District is pleasant, and I enjoyed sidewalk dining as folks from Omaha and Mobile milled by as the sun set. But it too feels much too quaint and pre-meditated. It has the first Urban Outfitters I've ever entered and was immediately greeted by clerks who asked if they could be of any help.

Despite having the nifty red trolley system to take you there, "Old Town" feels a lot like Branson on the Pacific. Even history feels manufactured here.

As in the past, Balboa Park proved to be a nice respite from Topeka on the Pacific, Blandiago or California Lite as many people call it.

I also enjoyed Balboa Park's desert gardens which I don't recall touring before. For the record, it was eight or nine degrees warmer in San Francisco while I was down south. But it's not just the weather that makes me glad to be back home. A little grit in the right place always makes me like California a bit more.