Another Road Trip

Last November, I was on the road for about a month. My primary “mission” was to bury my mother’s ashes in the family cemetery in West Virginia, but my secondary goal was to see Appomattox, Virginia and a few other places (like the Greenbrier bunker). Typical of my mode of travel is to simply go “where the wind takes me” – and on that trip the site where Lee surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia to Grant led me to Gettysburg (250 miles away), then Antietam (46 miles away), then Ft Sumter SC, Andersonville GA and Vicksburg, MS.

I suppose my method of travel would drive many nuts, particularly those who plan and execute a rigid itinerary. One of the happiest times in my life was 50 years ago as a lowly Army Spec/4 (Corporal) when on my leave I was free to roam Europe as I wanted. Of course when I had leave, knowing that if I didn’t return on the promised date/time it was the stockade!

So.

This time I had wanted to see the Nixon Presidential Museum in Yorba Linda for some years. I like to stop at these libraries, where you can see the background of history made (by the consequential Presidents anyway, Warren G Hardings exempted). I have visited over the years the Reagan Museum in Simi Valley (#1 in my opinion), Truman Library in Independence MO (a close second), Hoover Library in Iowa, and, if they can ever be open when I am through Abilene KS the Eisenhower library. I swear every time I have been through there on I-70 they have been closed either because of a 1600 close time, a day scheduled for closure or COVID. I’ve been by 4 times. On my November trip, I stopped in Staunton, VA to see the Woodrow Wilson Library. Parking (or lack thereof) prevented that visit.

But the best of these libraries gives you a glimpse into the backgrounds of these history-making Presidents.

I would rank Harry Truman as one of the most underappreciated Presidents. It astounds me that Franklin Roosevelt, despite poor health into his 4^th term, kept him completely out of the “loop” as to the WW II Theater.

When apprised to Roosevelt’s death in Warm Springs, GA, Truman said “I don’t know if any of you have had a bale of hay fall on you. Well, I feel like the sun, the stars and all the planets just fell on me. Don’t expect too much of me.”

Imagine learning this and knowing nothing of the current plans in the theater of operations.  Franklin Roosevelt is generally revered (I can remember when travelling around California promoting my family’s business seeing a portrait of Roosevelt on the office of a prospect)

But keeping your VP ignorant of these things – when you know that your health is failing and will soon die…Was Roosevelt in denial? Or was it ego?

This had to be one of the most important letters of WW2 given to Truman shortly after he took the oath:

 

And in my opinion, his using The Bomb was the right decision. I enjoy thinking about alternative history, while at the same time acknowledging that it is a futile exercise. I wrote a blog piece some years ago on “what was going to happen” had The Bomb not been used. One of the main reasons for invading Okinawa was to secure Kadena Airfield, which was to be used as a springboard for the invasion of Honshu Kyushu Island. And the Pentagon (then the War Dept), ordered an initial batch of 500,000 Purple Heart Medals for projected casualties at Honshu Kyushu.

I couldn’t get a definitive answer on the Web about when these were finally depleted, but certainly by the 1990s. A Million GIs, many in Europe, were greatly relieved with the news of The Bomb.

It saved not only many American lives but also Japanese lives.

Truman was also forced to face an aggressive Soviet Union after WW II. While the original architect for Soviet containment was a “Mr X” who wrote in Foreign Affairs Magazine, it was Truman who put it in to policy.

Anyway, perhaps it the Sauvignon Blanc that drove me so far into this tangent, but that is why I consider Truman to be under-appreciated.

So anyway, despite being a proud native Angeleno, I had never been to Yorba Linda, Nixon’s birthplace, and was surprised to  learn it is just east of Anaheim in Orange County. It’s about 30-40 miles south of Los Angeles.  After a slow slog (everything it seems these days on LA Freeways is a “slow slog”) I got there. At the danger of opening yet another tangent, my GPS on my 2011 Mercedes felt the need to report every “slow slog” from Newport Beach to Pasadena (did the programmers ever have to listen to this slop? Perhaps realize that it was more irritating than possibly helpful?). Anyway, besides getting useful directions I was subject to a pile of useless and annoying information. Reminded me of my early days as a programmer when “manager reports” were spewed printed on continuous form paper giving them “reports” a foot high. As if anyone would read that stuff.

The Nixon Presidential Library

I was surprised at the size of this – as big if not bigger than the Reagan library in Simi Valley (a bit north of Los Angeles). It was also the first library I’d seen that was built around the actual home where Richard Nixon was born. I had the quite logical thought that they had moved the house, but a docent said that they built the Library by the home. He and his wife Pat, like the Reagans, are buried on the grounds. On the day of his funeral 4,000 people attended, including 5 previous Presidents. When Nixon lived there Yorba Linda had just 200 people. It was a kit house – not a Craftsman – that had to have been less than 1,000 sf. Nixon with his four brothers all lived in one room in the upper story.

I have thought for years that Richard Nixon will be remembered in history for his foreign policy. Actually, it would be both him and Henry Kissinger. I was reminded that of those 5 attending Presidents, including Bill Clinton, he gave all of them foreign policy advice. The library had a complete exhibit of his life, from childhood to his Navy days (he said that he was quite a scrounger), to his days at a Congressman, Senator, Vice President to President.

Vietnam is well documented there.

I believe Nixon will be remembered most for his opening China to the West. As someone who grew up at the height of the Cold War, one could, from a Western viewpoint, have considered China to be a “Hermit Kingdom”. It was even more closed than the Soviet Union.

It took me a visit to this Library to remember that Kissinger was reported to be in Pakistan with a mild sickness, when he was conducting negotiations with the Chinese.

Nixon, being the lawyer, wrote a lot of his thoughts and plans on legal-sized yellow notepads. On display were his writings on how to negotiate with the Chinese – what they want – what we want, and things to say at the gala banquet. Ironic that in the “what they want” column was his handwritten line noting “return of Taiwan”, and we may soon be  confronting this issue after 53 years.

But 53 years ago, the West was transfixed at what was a dramatic change with China.

I was reminded that in 1954 in Geneva, John Foster Dulles refused to shake the hand of Zhou Enlai. Would anything have been different had he not suffered that slight? Certainly, anyone would remember that sting, but particularly those in the Asian culture. Hard to say, but Richard Nixon decided as he was descending the stairs of Air Force One to extend his hand to him.

Upon arriving in China after the initial greetings, Nixon had planned on resting before the meetings, when the Chinese informed him that Mao Zedong wanted to meet him right away.

Nixon was whisked away in a Chinese limousine, when of course drove the Secret Service crazy.

The following days had the world’s attention, with an agreement to have a series of ping-pong matches.

Watergate was thoroughly covered too, with the reasons Nixon had to send the “plumbers”. It was noted that Franklin Roosevelt started the taping system, and Nixon was the last President to use it.

Nixon’s White House Helicopter was on display next to his house, and I had forgotten that it was known as “Army 1”. A docent told me that it all depends on which branch of the service is flying it – for some time now the helicopters are known as “Marine 1”. He said that when Foreign dignitaries would come – on the way to Camp David, Nixon would give them an airborne tour of Washington before heading to their destination aboard the helicopter.

The visit was well worth the time. I would rate this Library along with the Truman Library in a tie for 2^nd.  I began the slow slog drive up to my childhood home of Studio City. As I had mentioned my car’s software was “helpfully” giving me traffic conditions within a 20 mile radius. I had a small family mystery to solve at a North Hollywood cemetery.

Valhalla Cemetery

Growing up, I knew only my maternal grandmother. My Maternal grandfather died a month before Pearl Harbor in 1941, and my paternal Grandfather died when I was 2 years old. My paternal grandmother died around the same time.

I had 2 great aunts – sisters – who lived together in the hills above Warner Brother’s studios. One was a spinster, the other a widow who also lived with her son, who was an accomplished pianist (a joke he told me is that like elephants, musicians go to Las Vegas to die, but I again digress).

Anyway my grandfather, and presumably the others, were all buried at Valhalla in North Hollywood (just north of Studio City). When it opened in 1923, one of them bought 12 plots.

So one morning I went there into the office where someone looked up the record of my grandfather. After about 15 minutes he came back with some surprising news. After giving me a plot number he told me that there was no headstone!

 

He gave me a row number (all painted on the curbs) and location and said that the 12 plots should be “5 rows up” from the curb number. Supposedly they would be marked by a small half-dollar (remember those?) sized number, but I could not find it in the grass. And my aunts had no headstone either!

Did they not believe in headstones? Couldn’t afford them? Or was a condition to be buried there by the relative who bought the plots in 1923 that no headstones be made?

I haven’t a clue.

But I must have walked right over them if the instructions were correct.

But like many of my trips, some unexpected turns reveal other unexpected interesting things. In this case, just down the road was a beautiful dome dedicated to airmen. I was told that it was re-dedicated to Amelia Earhart.

In this case, it was originally the main entrance which would make sense, since my grandfather’s plot was just 100 yards or so away. Amelia kept her plane at next-door Burbank (now Bob Hope) airport. The world was shocked in 1937 with her disappearance in the Pacific.

In fact one of the active runways lined up with the dome, and as I was standing there a Southwest Airlines 737 left the runway and flew a few hundred feet right over me!

How cool was that? I think Amelia would have been pleased, as her house was also nearby.

I did solve another family cemetery mystery a few years earlier, with a visit to the Hollywood Forever cemetery. Cemeteries can be interesting; in fact Hollywood Forever gives tours. Famous Hollywood personalities recent and past, from David Lynch to Tyrone Power are there.

I was told that another great uncle was “buried right next to Rudolph Valentino”. Well, I found Valentino’s crypt but no sign of my great uncle. As an aside I thought how ironic for him to be a world-wide sex symbol in the 1920s with the news of his sudden death at 31 millions of women around the world crying and fainting, to now have a dusty crypt with 2 plastic flowers on each side.

Fame is fleeting.

Anyway, my great (great?) uncle, who died in 1924, was about 100 yards away around a corner in the same mausoleum.

 

The Peterson Automotive Museum 

I visited here 3 years ago, when on a temporary exhibit they had every car used in every James Bond movie. It must be one of the preeminent automobile museums. There is an optional area called “The Vault”, which is where a few 100 more cars are kept in the basement. I had missed The Vault on my last visit and was determined to see it this time.

While I must have taken 200 photos of the collection here, I realize that you are not interested in descriptions of every single one.

So I’ll give you a few highlights. One was Steve McQueen’s Jaguar XK-SS, which was a street version of the D-Type Racing Jaguar. They made 16 of them before the factory burned. For many years I thought that with its introduction in 1954, the Mercedes-Benz 300SL was the fastest “supercar” of the era, with a top speed of 160 mph (with the right gearing). This Jag, which came out a couple of years later, was good for 170. Jay Leno profiled it here.

There was a Ferrari that Michael Schumacher drove in Formula 1, and a Ferrari Tom Selleck drove in Magnum, PI. By the way, a docent told me that because Selleck was so tall, they took out the seat padding in that Ferrari 308.

A car with a most interesting background was a Mercedes-Benz 600 Landaulet that belonged to Saddam Hussein. It was shown exactly how it arrived, a bit shoddy for wear (including a missing star on the hood). A docent told me that by 1978 Daimler-Benz knew of Hussein’s reputation, and would not sell him the car. So he had a Jordanian prince buy it for him.

This car still looks imposing despite being introduced in 1963. They built a bit over 2,000 of them in 3 basic versions until 1981. The Landaulet, which had a half “convertible top”, is what you saw with most of the heads of state. Then there was the SWB (Short Wheel Base), which looked like a regular S Class on steroids, and the LWB (Long Wheel Base, or “Pullman”). Owners were as diverse as the Pope to Elvis Presley.

Daimler-Benz wanted no expense spared in engineering. Little things, like the sound of an electric motor powering a window would be too plebian, so they are operated silently and hydraulically. Today there are only a few in the world who know how to properly maintain a 600, with its many complex systems.

Anyway, here is Saddam in his better days in his 600.

I wanted to have dinner at a Los Angeles tradition, Du-Par’s restaurant, and at their original location at the Farmer’s Market. Both had been around since the 1930s. But the parking lot was full, so I decided to start my trek east on I-10.

Palm Springs Area

Palm Springs was “discovered” in the 1920s by the Hollywood crowd, who found a summer-like environment close to Hollywood. The distance from LA fit their studio contract obligations, which had as a condition they be easy to reach. Today you will see Boulevards named after Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Gerald Ford, Dinah Shore among others.

My Frank Sinatra Drive Story…

 

Back in the 60s, I had a friend whose family lived in La Quinta, right next to Rancho Mirage. We were driving in my hot 67 Camaro down Frank Sinatra Drive, when he pointed out his house. Actually you couldn’t see his house as it was behind a bunch of oleander bushes. He then urged me to see what the Camaro would do and I started to oblige him, to the point I was going 100 mph down Frank Sinatra Drive (I assume the statute of limitations has been reached).

But before you assume that was extremely reckless, at that time Frank Sinatra Drive was just a street out in the desert with….no intersections, no traffic lights and very little traffic.

I couldn’t believe how much that area had grown. It used to be (sounding like the Geezer I seem to have become) that CA Highway 111 connected all of these small communities – Palm Springs, Cathedral City, Rancho Mirage, La Quinta, Indio….Now it is just 1 large suburban mass with shopping malls, car dealerships and everything in between, including a huge multi story Indian gambling area by the people who still own much of the lands – the Agua Calienta Tribe.

And before we leave this area, I stopped at a motel in Indio that, due to my 2300 arrival and the fact that there was very little available, the desk manager asked me for my room preference: “Do you want to hear the trucks or the trains?”

I selected the trains, and once ensconced with the occasional hearing of a long train a couple of hundred yards from me, remembered that I had been there years ago.

And another Frank Sinatra story….

Back in the 40s, one early morning he and Ava Gardner were laughing and cruising down Indio’s main street. Frank decided to pull out his revolver in the glove box and shoot out store windows. Alcohol may may have been involved. The local constabulary was called, and they were arrested.

I guess Frank was given his phone call and sometime later a “fixer” from one of the studios came with a suitcase full of money – or anyway, enough to, when distributed, make the problem go away.

Next morning when I was back on I-10 and close to the Arizona border, I  came across the Patton Museum.

I decided to check it out and it was worth the stop, although a lot of their exhibits, like an M-60 tank, were from my time in the Army and not WW2. They did have a lot of personal exhibits, such as his saddle and a replica of his ivory-handled revolver. And why was the museum right there by itself in the middle of the desert ?

I learned that it was formerly the entrance to Camp Young, the vast desert training center that spanned into Arizona. I was thinking at the time what one could see out there with a jeep for a few days….Anyway Camp Young gave them the training to face Rommel in North Africa.

A few miles down I-10, we crossed into Arizona and I saw a billboard that made me smile, and had a lot of empathy from others in the West.

“Welcome to Arizona, Californians. But please don’t bring California with you”.

Besides noticing that my favored fuel, Chevron Supreme, was $2 or more less per gallon than in California, the imbeciles representatives in our state legislature just voted to tax a gallon another 69 cents, effective July. I keep wondering how bad things will have to get before the people decide on a change.

I could go off on the mother of all tangents on what has happened to my beloved state, seeing how it has changed, but we will press on to a few more stops.

I stopped in a suburb of Phoenix to visit an old friend, an ex-Californian who moved first to Sand Point, ID (60 miles from the Canadian border) then to Phoenix (talk about a contrast!).  Oh, and he didn’t bring California with him, wanting to leave as much as he could behind. He is also a native who grew up in Los Angeles.

It was on next morning to Monument Valley to do something I neglected to do during my first visit 7 years ago.

Monument Valley

One thing I didn’t realize that in Arizona a lot of the land is Navajo. There is as of this writing a wonderful series on Netflix called Dark Winds. It is about a Navajo police chief in Kayenta. Kayenta is on Navajo land, and really the entrance to Monument Valley 30 miles away. As far as the TV series is concerned I learned a bit about the Navajo culture – you will hear a lot of their native language called Diné Bizaad –  (and speaking with a Navajo woman at Monument Valley learned that they got at least one thing wrong).

Upon reaching the entrance to Monument Valley, you pay an entrance fee and then are free to do one of two things.  You can take your vehicle on their dirt road for 17 miles that takes you to many of the famous formations, or take a tour on a flatbed truck. Naturally, in retrospect I took the wrong decision, talking my old Mercedes SL on the dirt road. The car was not happy with some potholes a foot deep. Last year I noticed a dent in the oil pan and wondered at the time how I got it. With my 2nd visit I knew there that dent originated. My advice-unless you have a pickup truck or SUV with a tall ground clearance – don’t even attempt taking your own vehicle on this road.

So this time I decided to take a tour and while waiting for the next departure sat down with a group of Navajo and learned a bit more.

One of them was a grandson of one of the legendary code-talkers. There is a little museum in Kayenta dedicated to them which I saw last time, but photography wasn’t allowed. The Marines decided that a great method of maintaining secrecy while fighting the Japanese was to use Navajo code-talkers. They figured that there were no Japanese who would speak Navajo. And if that weren’t enough, the Navajo had code words for certain Japanese bits of equipment. A tank, for example, was a “turtle”. My Navajo friend told me that they have 3 words for turtle.

I asked them how they survived in such a harsh climate. For one, they knew how to find water. And this area 100s of years ago was greener – there were even bear and antelope. The guide took us to an area where there were petroglyphs of antelope on the rock wall, made 3,000-4,000 years ago.

4,000 years ago the place was a rather lush area, from what I was told.

What did they do there primarily?

They were shepherds. The Navajo woman was demonstrating how they make yarn, and then blankets. She said other interesting things. There are no recorded histories of the Navajo in their language. The language is passed down generation to generation verbally. She had her grandsons visit from Logan, Utah and very westernized. She gave them 2 conditions for their summer stay – they would wear Navajo attire and she would speak to them in Diné. By the end of the summer they spoke the Navajo language, and asked her if they could return next summer.

Besides the visit in a typical Navajo Hogan, the guild took us to several other sites I had missed last time on my self tour.

 

Monument Valley and the Movies

The first movie was made here in 1939, called Stagecoach. Directed by the great John Ford, he learned about this area by talking a tour in the late 20s by the first tour operator, Harry Goulding. Ford became so enamored by this area that over time, many more westerns were made.  One of them, The Searchers (1956), was considered to be a classic and one of Wayne’s best. It was based on the real life story of Cynthia Ann Parker, who was abducted by the Comanches at age 9 and lived 24 years with them before being returned (against her will) to her family, adopting a life as the wife of a Comanche Chief and becoming the mother of one of their most fierce chiefs and warriors.

The filming crews would live in tents there and then take breaks in Gallup, NM at the Hotel El Rancho. It is one of my favorite places. You can have a room that is named for a star who stayed there, and have a drink upstairs in the rustic main room surrounded by a couple of hundred signed black and white photos signed by everyone from Tom Mix to John Wayne to Lee Remick.

If you are interested, there is a great documentary of John Ford at Monument Valley.

From here, it was a long drive back home with one more stop…

My family lived in Fresno for 2 years after moving from Los Angeles. My father’s business on Melrose Ave, was failing and he had to find another opportunity. At the time 65 years ago , one of the things I saw was Baldassare Forestiere’s Underground Gardens. He was a Sicilian immigrant who came to Fresno intending to have a citrus orchard. He started digging, using only hand tools, and eventually created a home all underground. He would graft his citrus trees with one giving 7 kinds of citrus. All of the trees were “underground” with of course an opening to the sky.

One can see various subterranean rooms and he was in the process of creating a grand ballroom when he died in 1946.  I believe his younger brother finished the ballroom.

As with Palm Springs, I was surprised at the growth of Fresno. In the early 60s, it was all by itself on Shaw Avenue. Now as elsewhere, there is development all the way to Clovis, some 5-10 miles away.

With that completed, it was a quick 2 hours back home…