Despite being within the Los Angeles metropolitan area, the Crescenta Valley manages to retain its small town flavor due to its geography--a small valley nestled between two mountain ranges--and the people who prefer this way of life. The community is marked not only by what has changed, but more importantly, by what has not.
The pleasant neighborhoods of the Crescenta Valley offer no hint of the many violent and heinous crimes that have occurred between the San Gabriel and Verdugo Mountains. But ties to such macabre episodes as the Onion Field murder and the search for the Hillside Strangler left lasting scars here. Infamous criminals such as mafia boss Joe "Iron Man" Ardizzone, red-light bandit Caryl Chessman and accused yacht bomber Beulah Overell have left a black eye on La Cresecenta's history--not to mention the "Rattlesnake Murder," "Female Bluebeard" and "Santa Claus Killer." Join historians Gary Keyes and Mike Lawler as they expose the crimes and criminals that have inflicted murder and mayhem in Glendale, La Crescenta, Montrose and La Canada Flintridge.
The Crescenta Valley is a typical suburb of the metropolis of Los Angeles, containing residential neighborhoods nestled in chaparral-covered hills. But hidden in these typical neighborhoods are remnants of an atypical past, a past made up of Hollywood legends, Prohibition-era bootleggers, and pioneers in women's rights. Crescenta Valley History: Hidden in Plain Sight tells the stories behind six places in the community that residents pass by every day, with no idea of the amazing events that took place there--six innocuous locations with impressive histories. A little shack behind an apartment that was once the home of John Steinbeck; the overgrown ruins of a former speakeasy; an abandoned sanitarium that once housed aging Hollywood stars, and now houses their ghosts; a mystical religious sanctuary run entirely by women; a former resort and Olympic training site buried deep under a suburban shopping mall; and a park created by professional baseball players and movie stars. All these sites are right here in your neighborhood! You'll never look at the Crescenta Valley the same way again.
Though it has specific geographic borders, La Crescenta is politically split, straddling portions of unincorporated Los Angeles County, Glendale, and even a portion of Los Angeles itself. The Tongva Indians roamed the valley for hundreds of years until cattlemen moved in and loggers harvested the tall trees in the canyons above. Then came orchards, sanitariums, resort hotels, and, ultimately, suburban sprawl. These bucolic hills belied a penchant for archly conservative politics, but the peace of the valley was shattered not by Nazis or Klansmen, but rather by forces of nature: windstorms, fires, earthquakes, and, most severely, flash floods. In his book Man in Control of Nature, naturalist John McPhee wrote extensively about the La Crescenta floods. Despite the turbulence, La Crescenta has evolved into a quiet bedroom community in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains.
High in the Inyo Mountains, between Owens Valley and Death Valley National Park, lies the ghost town of Cerro Gordo. Discovered in 1865, this silver town boomed to a population of 3,000 people in the hands of savvy entrepreneurs during the 1870s. As the silver played out and the town faded, a few hung on to the dream. By the early 1900s, Louis D. Gordon wandered up the Yellow Grade Road where freight wagons once traversed with silver and supplies and took a closer look at the zinc ore that had been tossed aside by early miners. The Fat Hill lived again, primarily as a small company town. By the last quarter of the 20th century, Jody Stewart and Mike Patterson found themselves owners of the rough and tumble camp that helped Los Angeles turn into a thriving metropolis because of silver and commercial trade. Cerro Gordo found new life, second to Bodie, as California's best-preserved ghost town.
While John McPhee was working on his previous book, Rising from the Plains, he happened to walk by the engineering building at the University of Wyoming, where words etched in limestone said: "Strive on--the control of Nature is won, not given." In the morning sunlight, that central phrase--"the control of nature"--seemed to sparkle with unintended ambiguity. Bilateral, symmetrical, it could with equal speed travel in opposite directions. For some years, he had been planning a book about places in the world where people have been engaged in all-out battles with nature, about (in the words of the book itself) "any struggle against natural forces--heroic or venal, rash or well advised--when human beings conscript themselves to fight against the earth, to take what is not given, to rout the destroying enemy, to surround the base of Mt. Olympus demanding and expecting the surrender of the gods." His interest had first been sparked when he went into the Atchafalaya--the largest river swamp in North America--and had learned that virtually all of its waters were metered and rationed by a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers' project called Old River Control. In the natural cycles of the Mississippi's deltaic plain, the time had come for the Mississippi to change course, to shift its mouth more than a hundred miles and go down the Atchafalaya, one of its distributary branches. The United States could not afford that--for New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and all the industries that lie between would be cut off from river commerce with the rest of the nation. At a place called Old River, the Corps therefore had built a great fortress--part dam, part valve--to restrain the flow of the Atchafalaya and compel the Mississippi to stay where it is. In Iceland, in 1973, an island split open without warning and huge volumes of lava began moving in the direction of a harbor scarcely half a mile away. It was not only Iceland's premier fishing port (accounting for a large percentage of Iceland's export economy) but it was also the only harbor along the nation's southern coast. As the lava threatened to fill the harbor and wipe it out, a physicist named Thorbjorn Sigurgeirsson suggested a way to fight against the flowing red rock--initiating an all-out endeavor unique in human history. On the big island of Hawaii, one of the world's two must eruptive hot spots, people are not unmindful of the Icelandic example. McPhee went to Hawaii to talk with them and to walk beside the edges of a molten lake and incandescent rivers. Some of the more expensive real estate in Los Angeles is up against mountains that are rising and disintegrating as rapidly as any in the world. After a complex coincidence of natural events, boulders will flow out of these mountains like fish eggs, mixed with mud, sand, and smaller rocks in a cascading mass known as debris flow. Plucking up trees and cars, bursting through doors and windows, filling up houses to their eaves, debris flows threaten the lives of people living in and near Los Angeles' famous canyons. At extraordinary expense the city has built a hundred and fifty stadium-like basins in a daring effort to catch the debris. Taking us deep into these contested territories, McPhee details the strategies and tactics through which people attempt to control nature. Most striking in his vivid depiction of the main contestants: nature in complex and awesome guises, and those who would attempt to wrest control from her--stubborn, often ingenious, and always arresting characters.
Their names run deep through local history and lore, adorning street signs, canyons, historical buildings, homes and ranches in the swath of suburbia between Pasadena and Tujunga, where the towns of La Crescenta and La Ca ada took shape, along with the unique community of Montrose. Profiled in the pages of Crescenta Valley Pioneers and Their Legacies by author Jo Anne Sadler, a researcher and frequent writer for the Historical Society of the Crescenta Valley, are such singularly important local characters as Theodor Pickens, the first permanent settler; Dr. Benjamin B. Briggs, the founder of La Crescenta; Jacob L. Lanterman and Adolphus W. Williams, the original developers of Rancho La Ca ada; and the Le Mesnager family, whose historic wine barn still stands in Deukmejian Wilderness Park.
The Olympic swimmer reveals the wild and challenging journey that took place between two gold medals: “Inspiring, humorous, and often profound.”—People Magazine Anthony Ervin is an Olympic swimmer who won the gold at nineteen—and that may be one of the least interesting things about him. An athlete of Jewish and African-American descent who is also a practicing Buddhist, he auctioned off the medal he won in Sydney to help raise funds for victims of the 2004 tsunami. He had grown up battling Tourette’s syndrome, and later struggled with suicidal depression, drinking and drugs, and a period of homelessness. This blend of memoir and biography, written by Ervin in collaboration with trainer Constantine Markides, is part spiritual quest, part self-destructive bender involving Zen temples, fast motorcycles, tattoo parlors, and rock 'n' roll bands—revealing the journey that preceded his remarkable 2016 Olympic comeback as the oldest individual gold medal winner in swimming. Winner of the 2018 Buck Dawson Author Award presented by the International Swimming Hall of Fame “Gripping…Readers will understand the psyche and life of elite athletes as never before.”—Library Journal “A celebrated Olympian recounts how he rose to the top of his sport, crashed, and found redemption…The author never flinches at revealing his less-than-perfect past, and the humility he demonstrates at coming to terms with his own egotism and personal shortcomings makes the book frequently compelling. A provocative and refreshingly honest redemption memoir.”—Kirkus Reviews