DO YOU HAVE THE TIME?

 Note: This is another rerun, inspired by Daylight Saving Time. I'm not in the mood to write an update. I'm still trapped in Gainesboro.

Jon

We are too complacent and compliant.

And gullible.

The Powers That Be dictate what we should do and we meekly and mindlessly comply. 

Turn your clocks an hour back for absolutely no plausible reason.

Daylight Saving Time. An idiotic annoyance that has been forced upon us.

I absolutely refuse to comply. There's no way in the realms of hell that I'm going to waste my time turning clocks back because Big Brother says so.

Anyway, I no longer have a keen sense of the persistence of time. 
I'm in the Twilight Zone.

I have no clue how many clocks I have. My computer clocks, of course, turn back automatically. I admittedly turned back the clock on the microwave  - because it was easy to do.

But that's the full extent of my compliance. All the other clocks will remain blissfully unmolested.  

Some of my clocks are still packed away since I moved. Others have mysteriously vanished. I used to have a gorgeous antique clock under a glass dome. It was smashed apart during my last move and was unrepairable.

Here are a few of my remaining clocks for your viewing pleasure.

Antique clock. The dishes are circa 1820, the statue circa 1790.

I love this grandfather clock. I bought it for my mother long ago - I'm surprised that it survived all these years without getting damaged or broken.

This is a miniature grandfather clock, I guess about four feet tall. I used to keep it in my bedroom when I lived in Texas.

Rustic grizzly bear clock

I've always wanted an original Kit Kat clock, and a generous blogger, Ron - from Retired in Delaware - sent me this gem. It's an original electric clock. The Kit Kat clocks are still being made, but the new ones are battery-powered.

The wall is two different colors? The kitchen is yellow, the dining area nutmeg frost.

 

Wall clock in the kitchen.

On my antique desk (obviously I didn't dust the desk very well)

An old Halloween clock - pumpkins and a witch.

Are you getting bored? I'll do one more.

I never got around to hanging this one. I just propped it up on a table to take the photo. It looks better in real. It's a hunter's clock. Every hour when it chimes, the hunter comes out and chases a bear round and round.

Or is the bear chasing the hunter??

Hunter on the right, bear on the left.

Thanks for taking the time (no pun intended, of course) to visit my blog.    

Jon, nearly insane - hanging on by a thread

Photos are poor quality, taken with my ancient digital camera.

THE TWO THAT GOT AWAY

   Note  I wrote this post several years ago. Every now and then I repost it. Why? Because I like it.  Jon

MAE WEST

MARIA RASPUTIN

I've met a lot of famous people when I lived in California and I've written about some of my encounters on previous blog posts - - John Wayne, Sonny and Cher, Groucho Marx, Ronald Reagan, Ann Miller, Liza Minnelli, Joan Rivers, Shelley Winters, Raquel Welch......and that's only a few. 
I haven't even mentioned the porn stars (no, I'm not kidding).

The great thing about Hollywood (at least when I lived there) was that it was fairly easy to cross paths with famous people. And I knew many extremely colorful characters who knew famous people. The connections were everywhere. At the time, it was exciting and I loved it. 

Despite all the celebrities I met, I still think the most about the two that got away. Two people whom I desperately wanted to meet but never did. Incredibly, they were both listed in the L.A. phone book:
Actress Mae West and Maria Rasputin - daughter of Grigory Rasputin, the infamous Russian monk who knew Tsar Nicholas II.

 I still have the old L.A. phone book

Maria Rasputin was a colorful character in her own right - a former governess, cabaret dancer, and long-time circus lion tamer.
She soothed the wild beasts with her mesmeric eyes.

She was indeed listed in the phone book (trust me, there aren't many Rasputins in the white pages....). She lived in obscurity in a modest place on Larissa near the Hollywood Freeway. 
I staked out her residence numerous times hoping to get a glimpse of her, but I never did. She was already in her late 70s then and died a short time later.

Since she was listed in the phone book, I regret not calling her. I was a heckuva lot more brash in my youth than I am now. But - - let's be rational here - - I didn't know what to say.
What's a good opening line when you want to talk to Rasputin's daughter?
"Hey, I was a big fan of your father".....??
  

Maria Rasputin

Mae West. Film star legend. Hollywood icon. I was an immensely huge Mae West fan back then and really wanted to meet her, but she was already in her 80s and led a reclusive life.

Ironically, one of my close friends and fellow musician Anthony had met her (I wrote about Anthony in a previous blog post - his sister Clara wanted to marry me).

Anthony's encounter with Mae West happened long ago when he was about twelve years old. His mother was doing some sort of Hollywood charity work and Mae West was involved. They were both invited to West's apartment. Anthony, at that time, had never heard of  Mae West and wasn't particularly interested. He remembered that the apartment living room was decorated entirely in white and he said Mae West was very alluring.

Ravenswood Apartments on Rossmore
Long-time residence of Mae West

Mae West had lived in the same Hollywood apartment building for over forty-five years - - in fact, she had a lifetime lease. It was called Ravenswood and is located on north Rossmore, only a few blocks from Paramount Studios on Melrose (where she worked during her heyday). Incidentally, West's apartment number was 611.

I initially thought that Mae West owned Ravenswood, but she didn't. Ravenswood was built by Paramount Studios in 1930 and had once housed such famous residents as Clark Gable and Ava Gardner.

One day I was driving and my car broke down directly in front of Ravenswood. It hadn't dawned on me where I was until I looked up and saw the big Ravenswood sign on the roof.

Holy crap! Mae West lives here! I was astonished and delighted that fate had unceremoniously dumped me right in front of her abode.

There's no satisfactory resolution to this story because I never did meet Mae West. I did my best to get a glimpse of her but to no avail.

In retrospect this sounds crazy, but on several later occasions (usually at night) I would sit on a wall across the street and gaze at Mae West's windows.

West had been listed in the L.A. phone book for many years. When she was younger she actually answered the phone and talked to her fans (imagine any star doing that nowadays!).

Despite my reluctance to call Maria Rasputin, I did call Mae West's number several times. I talked to her long-time companion Paul Novak, who was a former body builder and had been one of several muscle-bound pretty boys featured in West's Las Vegas show.

Novak was thirty years younger than West. It was rumored that they had been lovers, but I have my doubts (for some private reasons that I won't disclose here). Paul was kind and easy to talk to. He told me that Mae was very deaf and no longer spoke on the phone (I already assumed that, because I'd heard of all the trouble she had with her hearing while she was making the movie Myra Breckinridge).

Like a sappy jackass, I wrote a humorous poem and fan letter and sent it to West. Paul said that he'd make sure she got it. She did. Within a few days I received a letter and signed photo from Mae. I still have it.  

The lines on the photo are a reflection from the window.

Mae West, in later years, with Paul Novak (Paul is on the left) and Mickey Hargitay (he later was Jayne Mansfield's husband)

P.S.

Unfortunately, the once-elegant Ravenswood has now fallen into decay and is largely forgotten.

Hollywood is NOTHING like it used to be.     Jon