Final Visitation

October 1, 1947
El Monte

Charles Edward Thompson, 37, and wife Gladys separated recently, with Charles allowed a weekly visit with 6-month-old baby Barbara. Yesterday Charles, who has been living at 1105 W. 29th Street, drove to the female Thompsons’ residence at 737 Brice Road, El Monte, and the family went to L.A. so Barbara could visit her doctor. Words were exchanged on the ride home, and Charles made to split with the kid. He failed in this, and the trio returned to El Monte, where Gladys walked the groceries into the house at Charles’ directive. She’d not even reached the door when she heard two shots.

Charles expired at Temple City Emergency and Barbara followed her father in death at General Hospital soon after.

Published by

Kim Cooper

Kim Cooper is the creator of 1947project, the crime-a-day time travel blog that spawned Esotouric’s popular crime bus tours, including The Real Black Dahlia. She is the author of The Kept Girl, the acclaimed historical mystery starring the young Raymond Chandler and the real-life Philip Marlowe, and of The Raymond Chandler Map of Los Angeles. With husband Richard Schave, Kim curates the Salons and forensic science seminars of LAVA- The Los Angeles Visionaries Association. When the third generation Angeleno isn’t combing old newspapers for forgotten scandals, she is a passionate advocate for historic preservation of signage, vernacular architecture and writer’s homes. Kim was for many years the editrix of Scram, a journal of unpopular culture. Her books include Fall in Love For Life, Bubblegum Music is the Naked Truth, Lost in the Grooves and an oral history of Neutral Milk Hotel.

One thought on “Final Visitation”


    Two of L.A.’s best known sons…

    They’re here to
    Autograph Weinstock’s
    “MY L.A.â€Â
    2:00 to 4:00 p.m.
    Thursday, Oct. 2

    Mr. Weinstock wrote this hilarious new book;
    Mr. Beck wrote its equally hilarious foreword.
    Look for “My L.A.â€Â (3.00) in Books, First Floor.



    + + +

    Everybody’s parents or grandparents seem to have purchased this little red-bound book with the blue title on the spine. There was a time when you could find a copy in just about any secondhand store or used bookshop in the Southwest next to “Inside U.S.A.” or one of the WPA guides. And with good reason: It’s lighthearted and informative, in the Lee Shippey school of California writing. He talks about the market for wooden sabots among the Dutch dairy farmers living in Belvedere (now Bell Gardens), the tale of how Los Angeles was founded and briefly looks at various government reform movements and crackpot religions. And the movie stars.

    It certainly doesn’t have the scope or grander aspirations of “Southern California: An Island on the Land.â€Â It’s a beach book on L.A. history. Anybody can pick it up at random, read a little something and think they know more about Los Angeles. The whole book reads like this: “The only [traffic] signal I know with a personality is at the northeast corner of Adams and Hauser. As the GO sign drops into position, passersby may observe that someone has written in crayon on it TO HELL.â€Â

    Weinstock died of cancer in 1970, his obituary giving the newsman’s usual resume: The college paper (sports editor of the UCLA Daily Grizzly, yes that’s right) , reporter and then columnist for Manchester Boddy’s Los Angeles Daily News (he was managing editor and claimed he couldn’t find anyone to replace E.V. Durling, who was going to The Times, so he wrote it himself), then the Mirror and finally The Times. In addition to “My L.A.â€Â Weinstock wrote “Muscatel at Noon.â€Â

    After Weinstock’s death, Jack Smith (it seems superfluous to describe him as Times columnist because 10 years after his last piece, he can still fill the room at the Huntington Library) wrote: “Matt Weinstock was Los Angeles in a sense that no other man has been. He lived in and observed and wrote about a Los Angeles that existed only through him….. Hundreds of thousands of nobody people, who could not find their likenesses in the newspapers or on television or in the other mass outpourings of the modern media, read Matt Weinstock and knew they were still alive.â€Â

    The day after he died, the marquee outside Chipper’s Nut House said: “WHAT WILL L.A. BE WITHOUT MATT WEINSTOCK?â€Â

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