Honorable Mention – Resolution at White Point
A local and a lifeguard having a lot of fun
by Joe Gitelson
During my 30+ years as a lifeguard in Los Angeles County, I often worked at White Point/Royal Palms in San Pedro. The only problem I ever had was when localism reared its ugly head. One example was when I stuck a small pebble in a surfer’s tire stem to cause a slow flat.
About a year before I retired in 2012, at 64, I was working an extra shift at White Point. Around noon, a pickup truck pulled into the handicapped parking spot directly under the tower. A guy in his mid- to late 30s got out of the truck with a joint in his mouth and an open beer in his hand. He dropped the tailgate and let his big black Labrador run free. He didn’t have a handicapped license plate.
I went up to the deck of the tower and said to the guy, “Excuse me, but not only are you not allowed to park in this spot, dogs are not allowed to roam free, marijuana is not legal, and you have an open container. Call your dog, put out the joint, put down the beer, and move your truck, please?”
He looked up at me and asked, “Are you new here?”
I looked down at him, pointed to my face and replied, “Do I look new?”
We both laughed heartily. He got his dog, put out the joint, poured away the beer and drove away in his truck. We often laughed about that day.
Honorable Mention – “Drama Above and Below,” Lanakila Classic Outrigger Canoe Race, off King Harbor, Redondo Beach, March 3, 2024. Nikon Z-7 converted for infrared, 24-70mm lens. Photo by Michael McKinney
Honorable Mention – No Reason to Go Home
Inglewood is gone, but the foundation remains
by Dave Siemienski
Recently, I passed a sign for Inglewood on the 405 Freeway. That’s where I grew up. My mind instinctively recalled an old Twilight Zone episode called “Walking Distance,” written by Rod Serling and starring Gig Young. It was about a suicidal advertising executive who abandons his car at a gas station (back when you could still do that) and walks to his hometown, which is just down the road. Strangely, he finds that things there are almost exactly the same as they were when he was a kid, and he quickly feels that he has somehow traveled back in time. When he finds his old home, he confronts his parents and tries to explain to them that he is actually their now grown son. They think he’s crazy.
The unfolding episode shows Young’s character, Martin Sloan, trying to regain his youth, and he even tries to communicate with himself as a boy. When his father finally believes the impossible that this Sloan is his son from the future, Martin asks him why he can’t return to his past life here. His father replies pointedly, “I guess because we only have one chance.”
Since Inglewood was now within “walking distance,” I decided to take the Florence/Manchester exit. This is where my Uncle Leo used to live. His house was demolished in the 1950s to build the freeway. That was progress at the time, but where the hell did those families go? I really miss those visits to my uncle’s house.
And lo and behold, there was the “Big Donut” (now a different name). Times have changed. At least the donut was still there. I continued my slow journey down memory lane by driving south on Aviation until I reached Century. Carolina Lanes should be right here on the corner. This is where I played my first game of 200 bowling. Forget it, now sleazy strip joints and fast food take the place of the wonderful bowling alleys I used to enjoy with my friends. The Inglewood Bowl and the Jola Bowl are also long gone.
My next turn took me down Century toward Hollywood Park Race Track. This parking lot was where my dad first took me for a drive. Please tell me I’m dreaming. The race track is gone. Sofi Stadium? What is that? The American Taj Mahal? Where Pops first let me drive is where they play NFL football? That’s where Willie Shoemaker stopped at the quarter pole at Swaps and cost my Uncle Leo a lot of money. How could they take this beautiful landmark and so many of my precious memories from me?
The Clippers are moving across the street to Century Street? You can’t be serious! Does that mean the Raiders could return to Inglewood?
The Inglewood Golf Course is long gone, and now the old Forum is mostly used for concerts. I saw the Rolling Stones there in 1972. The old sports building stands exactly where the 9th green was in 1950. Grass has turned to concrete and asphalt. It was as if someone had taken a big eraser and erased the blackboard drawings of my childhood. All that was left was dusty chalk and smudged pictures.
I got back in my car and tried to imagine myself in one of the vintage cars from American Graffiti. I turned up the radio. The rock’n’roll was still playing, but the images were gone. John Milner is still the fastest hot rod in the Centinela Valley, isn’t he?
I turned the wheel west. I knew Sears was just down the street on Manchester Street in Hillcrest. I wanted to see the sporting goods department where I bought my first pair of Converse basketball shoes. Where is the famous Sears building? Where is the parking lot? Was it leveled by an earthquake? Wait a minute! What’s going on here? I knew Dr. Tanton’s old office across the street would be gone, but I never thought Sears would disappear.
Well, maybe I’d go downtown and see what was playing at the Fox Theater or the United Artists. No! The Fox is boarded up. No UA either. Did the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” come true? Did aliens take over Inglewood? I saw “The Big Shark” at the Fox in 1961, but now Market Street looks like a bad movie set. Where is Mike & Bob’s Records? Do they still sell 45s? I bought my first Beatles album there.
Maybe I should seek some peace and quiet at the Inglewood Public Library. It was supposed to be just around the corner. I turned onto Queen Street, but couldn’t understand why it oddly ended at La Brea. This isn’t right. Where is this beautiful building that took up an entire city block? The impressive building I remember had an elegant staircase at the front entrance leading to the front doors. The rich old wood of the lobby and bookshelves smelled like a museum. It was a cathedral of books, and my senses were all tuned to time travel. Unfortunately, that cherished landmark is gone too. The entire city block is now Inglewood City Hall. If only those people knew what books I liked and how this intellectual piece of lost history inspired me to read and write for a lifetime.
As I pulled away from the curb, looking for something from the past to hold onto, I realized that at least Inglewood High School was still there. Scarpalino’s Pizza is gone, the DMV has moved, and almost everything else looks like a foreign country.
Desperately searching for something historical to cling to, I found something that I thought would help me imagine the “good old days” of my former hometown.
I left feeling melancholy but optimistic that I would see Centinela Park at the corner of Florence and Centinela again. It was 55 beautiful acres of grass, trees, picnic areas, playgrounds, a small playhouse, a large swimming pool, tennis courts and baseball fields. Much of my youth was spent there playing ball, watching fireworks, hiking the Indian trails and later as an adult playing fastpitch softball. The park was just down the street from Hazel Street where I grew up. It should be right up there.
“Edward Vincent Jr. Park?” Who the hell is he? Why did they have to change the name? The most iconic name of all Inglewood parks! I guess that was seen as progress.
My nostalgic preoccupation probably prevents me from appreciating the development of civilizations. My family came from Connecticut in 1950 and settled in the city of Inglewood.
Since I was now only a few blocks from my parents’ house, at 329 E Hazel Street, I knew where my destination would be that day. I drove slowly up my old street and approached the address with cautious anticipation, looking for the two prominent ivy and elm banks that clearly marked the front of our property.
When the addresses showed that I had gone a little too far, I was shocked. I stopped and drove back a few houses. Where was 329? That’s a huge apartment building now! That can’t be right! Something is very wrong here. Where is my basketball court and wiffle ball field? What have they done with the apricot and peach trees?
I was reminded of Rod Serling’s closing comment from Twilight Zone’s “Walking Distance.” In his most sentimental tone, Rod said: “Martin Sloan, 36, Vice President of Media. Successful in most things, but not in the one attempt every man makes at some point in his life – the attempt to get home…”
While these words were going through my head, this sentence from Martin’s father was still echoing in my ears: “Perhaps…we only have one chance.” It turns out that one was enough for me. Although almost everything has changed since then, I wouldn’t change how or where I grew up.
These experiences and images of my youth are the building blocks that formed the foundation of my maturity, a wonderful career and a joyful life with family and friends.
I no longer feel the need to go home. “Home is where the heart is.” Mine has now moved on.
