My Fay Young’s Little World

There is no profession more honorable than nursing, and I steadfastly believe all nurses give 110% to their craft. Such said, I’ve found nurses-having known an inordinate quantity for some reason-to be emotionally damaged sex addicts with rather pronounced substance abuse problems. Like yours truly. Which is why I like them so much, or at least that’s why I’ve known so many.

In any event, the Nurse: like the Cop, she spends her days with her head in the human toilet, seeing people only at their lowest ebb. Is it any wonder they garb themselves in black and take in a lonely GI ACP as their only friend?

Here’s where my new delightful intended Fay Young lived:

Note her small apartment building just there to the left of the Gates Hotel. Both of which are gone, having been replaced like so:

(Orient yourself in the two pix via Wurdeman & Becket’s 1946 Mobil Oil/General Petroleum bldng peeking from the corner.)

And where Fay boosted some schmendrik who so dearly deserved to be relieved of his nine dollars:

Relatedly, on a Los Angeles streetcorner I recently reacquainted myself with M—– R—–, former nursing student and former girlfriend of mine at that, who now panhandles to support her, uh, nursing habit.

The Case of the Walking Wristwatch

Hear this case recounted live on KPCC radio’s Pacific Drift L.A. noir episode.

December 18, 1947
Hollywood

Two years ago, Mrs. Mary Louise Loftus rented a room in her home at 6429 Primrose Avenue to a (seemingly) nice young man whose height and cherubic features earned him an occasional paycheck doubling for Orson Welles. John Abernathy made such a good impression on Mrs. Loftus that she entrusted him with taking a broken diamond- and sapphire-studded wristwatch down to the jewelers. And that was the last she saw of Abernathy until…

… driving near Sunset and Laurel Canyon Boulevards last night, Loftus thought she spotted Orson Welles standing on the corner. But everyone knew that Orson was in Rome making Black Magic and mourning his split from Rita Hayworth. Ergo, that had to be Abernathy taking his evening constitutional! The lady called the cops, who located Abernathy in his nearby apartment at 8117 Sunset and took the kid down to the Hollywood Jail. The charge: grand theft, wristwatch, for the missing bauble was valued at $750.

Hans’ Best Friend

December 17, 1947
Los Angeles

Hans S. Erlandsen, 48-year-old security guard, suffered an apparent heart attack today while driving and smashed into a telegraph pole at the used car lot at Santa Barbara and Vermont Avenues. Officers J.H. Turner and L.M Friday were called to the scene and tried to aid the stricken man, but his Doberman pinscher refused to let them anywhere near his master. After nearly half an hour, the dog quieted and permitted ambulance workers to attend Erlandsen, who was probably dead when his car left the road. According to his fishing license, the victim lived at 3980 S. Budlong.

The Case of the Killer Longshoreman

December 15, 1947
Los Angeles

Police are holding Rufus Avery, 47, on suspicion of murder and arson after discovering the longshoreman wearing scorched clothing in the aftermath of a fire at 10351 1/2 S. Hickory Street.

Mrs. Vera Dudley directed police to look at her former suitor, who had previously attempted to burn her house down, following the early morning blaze in which her mother Mrs. Minnie Dudley, 50, and children Lawrence, 8, Carol, 6, and Kenneth, 4, were killed.

Avery was taken into custody at his hotel room at 108 Palos Verdes Street, San Pedro. Vera Dudley was not at home at the time of the fire.

10351 1/2 South Hickory To-day

Longshoremen are best kept down on the, uh, longshore. They come inland, and trouble ensues.

But Longshoreman Rufus came up he did, just a few blocks from where Simon Rodia was toiling away on his towers, to set a house full of children (plus one old lady) ablaze.

Fifty-eight years later, and still no-one’s built there.

There are a number of lots empty in the neighborhood, not just ’65-era commercial blocks-come-parking lots, but vacant plots of residential, like this lot two doors down from Vera Dudley’s.

The work of longshoremen, no doubt.

1947project featured on KPCC’s Pacific Drift, Sunday 9pm

Fans of SoCal noir are directed to tune their Philcos to KPCC-FM 89.3 at 9pm this Sunday, for a special noir-themed episode of Pacific Drift with Ben Adair and Queena Kim. This week’s show includes a visit to Sunday’s 1947project crime scene. What do you get when you cross an Orson Welles lookalike with a jewel-studded wristwatch? You’ll just have to listen, or read the blog, to find out.

Also on the Noir L.A. episode: Alan Silver, author of LA Noir; Rob Thomas, creator of “Veronica Mars”; Paula Woods, author of Strange Bedfellows; and LAPD “cold case” detective Dave Lampkin. Plus LA Weekly music editor (and bubblegum fiend) Kate Sullivan reviews the year’s best local music

The show will also be available as a podcast.

A Mysterious Assault

December 14, 1947
Atwater Village

When Mrs. Evelyn Schott got off the street car near her home at 3224 Garden Ave., she stepped unknowingly into a trap. For lurking one block from home’s safety was a man with evil intent. He sprung upon Evelyn from behind a bush and commenced beating her head. She screamed, neighbors poured onto their lawns, and her assailant jumped into a car and split. Evelyn was patched up at Pasadena Ave. Emergency Hospital, and won’t, we wager, be walking home alone after dark again anytime soon.

Let’s Play Supermarket Sweep

December 13, 1947
Los Angeles

Mrs. Esther D. Miller, 39, is a woman with an interesting hobby. She writes letters to her grocer, accusing him of padding her bill, and demanding cash in exchange for not calling the police.

Mrs. Miller, who lives at 1416 W. 53rd Street, stands accused of writing such a letter to grocery owner I. Rodman, in business at 54th Street and Normandie. She demanded $200, and extortion charges were filed.

Rodman’s wife told U.S. Commissioner David B. Head that this was not the first extortion demand from Mrs. Miller. Last time, Mrs. Rodman had personally paid out $300, reasoning that “[her] husband has ulcers and [she] didn’t want to upset him.”

Bail was set at $1000.