Horace Elmer Jenson left Nowhere Prairie, North Dakota for Hollywood, California in 1929. It has not been a good year. The day after the stock market crashed Horace had boarded a train with a one way ticket. He vowed he would rather sell apples on a movie screen then sell them on a street corner.
It was a cold day in October when the train left him at Union Station in Los Angeles. From there he walked the several miles to Hollywood. He ended up sleeping on the street for the next few weeks until he managed to rent a room in the boardinghouse off of Poverty Row.
He found work in his cowboy attire. In his case the cowboy attire came from the farm he had grown up on, had hated, and left as soon as he had earned enough money to get away. That had been at a rawboned fifteen. Horace had then spent the next fifty years of his life working as an extra.
If his face seems familiar that isn't too surprising. He was in thousands of movies. He was the cowboy, the man at the next table in the saloon, the face in the crowd. He was the businessman in a nondescript gray suit on the way to work along a city street. He was the forgettable member of the pirate crew. He was one of thousands who were the backdrop of humanity in movies that brought millions into the gilded palaces.
Remember him? Of course not? Think he looks familiar? Of course he does.
Horace had changed his name shortly after coming to Hollywood. He became Reginald "Reggie" Harroldson. It was a better name than Horace Jenson but not a "star" name. It was not a name attached to a face that would make him stand out in the crowds he became part of for half of a century.
The man who lived down the hall from him in the boardinghouse he lived in was another actor. Floyd Dortin was a tall, handsome man with sandy brown hair and friendly blue eyes. Floyd became Chandler Thomas. You remember him, don't you? He was the heartthrob who starred with the Latin sex goddess Lupe Montex in a series of low budget sultry musicals back in the mid-thirties. Chandler had nodded to Reggie in the hall once or twice and had then promptly forgotten him. Reggie had coffee and breakfasted at the Poverty Row Cafe while Chandler lunched at the Fedora. Their paths seldom crossed.
The night that Chandler Thomas moved out of the boarding house was when Reggie saw the limelight for the first time. The limelight was a lazy beam of enticement that seemed to linger on Chandler for just a moment and then it followed him as he made his exit. Fascinated, Reggie ran to the door and saw the limelight, small though it was, slither into the automobile that Chandler drove off in.
Reggie next saw the limelight when he was working on an epic musical. The young and bright faced Roxy Keen and her partner, Rory Cannon ( the former Thelma Stricker; the former Ronald Clackinski ), had astounded everyone with their grace and fast, fancy footwork. A couple of nice kids, they were no prima donnas. And they both stood in a bright limelight.
"Can you see it?" Reggie asked the others who stood near him. Everyone thought he was crazy. Well, almost everyone.
There was a gofer named Randolph Simons who had listened when Reggie mentioned the limelight. At first he hadn't thought anything of it. But Reggie had been on many films with him. Six months later Randolph was listening as Reggie saw another limelight. This time it was on a bit player with bright gold hair and a sultry pout. When Trixie Roshell's performance as a bubblegum snapping moll had stolen the film from the principles Randolph Simons took a long, hard look at Reggie Harroldson and the limelight he saw over and over.
The next film the two men worked on together found Reggie idly commenting that he saw a brilliant limelight over the head of a young actor who was the lead in a low budget romantic movie. Without a second thought, Randolph Simons quit his job as a fetch and carry gofer. In the next decade he became the most powerful agent in Hollywood. His first client had been the young actor, Chad Franklin, who had gone on to super stardom after Randolph Simons had spotted him on the set of a low budget romantic movie.
After fifty years in the Industry, Reggie retired. He still lived in the boarding house he had first moved into. Now he owned the property. He had bought it when the owner had sold it two decades earlier. Reggie had married another extra, a plain young woman upon whom the limelight had never shown. Judy Atkins was a wonderful cook and housekeeper. Their boardinghouse became a success through the various ups and downs of both Hollywood and the rest of the country. Perfectly content to share their lives with each other, they had decided to not share their rather ordinary existence with children or pets.
Boarders came and went. Over some of them were small, medium or large limelights. Reggie had learned it was better to not mention those limelights to others. Either they would not believe him or possibly laugh or they might think their landlord was half-mad. Or they might believe him which could end up worse. If he saw no limelight or only a tiny flicker of one the person he mentioned it to would often get angry and disbelieve him. If there was a large limelight it would often be accompanied by an even larger ego. No need to tell a person they would become successful when the person had already figured that out!
Although Judy and he never became stars or even lowly "bit" players they had an uneventful but contented life with each other. After she had passed away Reggie became lonely without her and sold the boardinghouse. In keeping with the tradition of his own experience, he sold it to a tenant who had lives there for several years. It later became the Long Tall Apartments.
Reggie moved to a small bungalow near Highland and Waring. He puttered around his garden, keeping mostly to himself. He did get a cat, a mangy stray that fattened up nicely once the lonely old man pampered it. He also got himself a small dog that he would take for short walks in the neighborhood.
After he moved into the bungalow Reggie would continue to see the limelight. He never admitted the truth to anyone. He had never told anyone, not even his wife, that he had lived his life in desolation and despair. For the limelight had never shown on HIM.
When he had first seen the limelight those many decades ago he had been thrilled. He had told others --- and no one cared. They had laughed at him. After awhile he no longer exclaimed in excitement when he saw a brilliant limelight over someone. Yes, he had noticed that those whom the limelight singled out, to some degree, went on to fame and fortune. But the limelight had never shined its light on him. He had begged, he had pleaded. He had prayed on his knees. But the limelight eluded him. It had always bathed others in its cool flame, its illuminating aura. But it had never shown on him.
He remembered having once seen it on a city street. He had been walking down a side street when he saw it and had chased it around the corner onto Sunset Boulevard. He had hoped that THIS TIME it might finally be his. If only he could catch it and make it his own! That had been in the 1960s. A young waifish blonde in a paisley print mini dress had walked gracefully past him. The limelight that he thought might finally be his had followed her. It gently glided onto her hair as if it were the caress of a butterfly that he had seen many times but which always eluded him.
So the limelight was for others. It was not for him. And he had wept with despair. His heart had been eaten up with despondency from the hope that had never been and never would find fulfillment. Never for him would the bright lights shine upon his name. STARRING REGGIE HARROLDSON would not happen. He had no star on Hollywood Boulevard. Nor would he ever see his name on one of the stars there. He was a forgotten man.
He had been an extra in thousands of films. He had managed to frugally save up enough money over the years to buy a house and to support a wife who was as obscure as himself. He now lived a quiet and lonesome retirement in which regret was a biting little mouse of resentment. WHY had the limelight never shown on him? Why had the limelight never singled him out? Had he been that unworthy of its attention?
In the 1990s he met an actress who had once been under the bright shine of the limelight in the 1940s. She turned his life around. Ginger Kendell --- you remember her, those of you who are older, don't you? Her long luxurious raven locks and her dark smoldering glance had been the poster over the bed of many an adolescent dreamer. Now she was a gray-haired, plump and still smoldering-eyed elderly lady. He had met her when their small dogs had befriended each other. She lived in a well-kept bungalow a street over from him. And her wisdom helped to heal the broken dreams of a bitter old man.
"The limelight isn't all that it seems." she told him. "I've had lovers and three husbands. And it was all because of the limelight. They never loved ME. They loved whom they perceived me to be. They were drawn like moths to its flame. I didn't have the kind of love you shared with your wife. I didn't have the quiet and peaceful existence the two of you found together. I envy you that."
There was a restlessness in Ginger. She sold her bungalow and moved away to a new house --- and a new man. But she left with Reggie a precious gift. It was a contentment which he hadn't known in his pursuit of the limelight. He now realized that while he had seen the limelight it hadn't been something that would have given him happiness. Like Ginger Kendell he might have found fame and fortune, had famous mates and lovers. But would he have looked twice at the wonderful wife who had stood beside him through all of those years of obscurity? He wouldn't have traded Judy for all the limelights in the world.
That evening, when he said his prayers, he thanked God for having given him a good life, a life that had been passed over by the limelight. After a few years more of retirement he died peacefully in his sleep.
There was a small obituary in the local Hollywood press. There was also a small mention of his life as an extra on the local evening news. And then something interesting happened. A young film student at UCLA was watching the news that night and was intrigued by Reggie's story. The student requested and was granted permission to make a documentary on the "unknown man" who was "every face" in decades of movies. The student completed the film and by the end of that college year it was winning awards as a documentary at film festivals. It began to play to sell-out crowds in small theaters across the country.
A year after his death the limelight founds its way to shine upon what Reggie Harroldson ( the former Horace Jenson ) had been: the "King of the Common Man," the "every face" in the movies. The limelight was a brilliant shimmer upon Reggie's simple gravestone that was beside that of his beloved wife Judy. A second limelight appeared and together the limelights seemed to joyfully dance, embracing like arms, one limelight seemed to put its "head" upon the "shoulder" of the other. The limelights then merged above the two graves.
Reggie's many fans and admirers came to visit his grave and leave flowers there for Judy and him. When the fans walked away from their graves the limelight would shine a little brighter and would follow them into the bright day of the California dream.
finis
1-1-04/revised 2-12-07
Hollywood
Monday, January 5, 2015
The Premiere CH Summers copyright 2015
Tiffany Chase pushed back her bleached blonde curls. She smiled for the paparazzi who called out her name. Behind the brilliant movie-star brights tooth smile she was cringing. She knew the movie was a dog. She knew it would have been better if it had gone straight to DVD. Better yet, maybe it could have been "lost" down a black hole and entirely forgotten about.
She had made 4 movies back to back. One, a small budget indy, was getting rave reviews at film festivals. Her part was a featured role and she had played it well. She smiled when she thought of her acting. Too bad "Small Town Neon" wasn't playing instead of the dog she would suffer sitting through. She could have rejected the part but she had wanted out of her contract and she had one more movie to make. So she had made "Ricky Perkins 35th Girlfriend."
"Tiffany! Tiffany!" The crowds yelled out her name as she walked down the red carpet. She wore her signature color --- Tiffany pink. It had a sheen of "Tiffany silver " to it --- a color that did not flatter her olive skin tone or hazel-brown eyes. But a stylist ( long since fired ) had named the color and the studio had commissioned a no name designer to make her the strapless satin and tulle Tiffany pink" gown. The day after the premiere gauche teenagers around the country would be able to buy 99 dollar knockoffs of the frightening frock at their local department stores. She shuddered at the thought of those color challenged adolescents.
Tiffany entered the theater; her leading man was already in the lobby. Together they gave interviews ( lies about how excited they were to be in the movie ), how it was a classic romantic comedy ( big lie ). The cast and those who were there for the premiere sat in their seats as the lights dimmed.
It was even worse than cast, crew and the director had feared. The writer-producer, a narcissistic twit who was the nephew of the third wife of a once famous producer, beamed. This movie was his "baby" and he saw only what his deluded mind wanted him to see. Everyone else cringed.
After the viewing everyone left hastily by the rear exit. The members of the pressed had been barred from the screening. Word of mouth would tell the public how wretched the movie was once it hit the theaters. No one left by the front entrance of the theater; no one that is, except the writer-producer. He walked out of the theater with his sycophants and entourage. Most of the crowd, and all of the paparazzi, had dissipated. In the night air the wind blew bits of debris to the deserted neon.
Tiffany Chase pushed back her bleached blonde curls. She smiled for the paparazzi who called out her name. Behind the brilliant movie star brights tooth smile she was cringing. Tiffany was cringing because this was the 93rd time she had walked down the red carpet to see the premiere of this train wreck disaster of a movie.
Along with other members of cast and crew she had beat a hasty exit from a horrible experience. She KNEW she was a better actor than what she had portrayed on screen. That indy film getting accolades from the press and her peers had proved that. She hoped the indy flick, as well as the Big Budget Action comic book character movie ( large role, gritty character, mild Felix buzz ) could help her live this role down.
"Tiffany! Tiffany!" The crowds yelled out her name as she walked down the red carpet. Tiffany entered the theater.
She repeated the loop around and around it goes and when it ends --- when the hell would it ever end? The hapless cast and crew sat down in their seats and watched "Ricky Perkins 35th Girlfriend" again. They exited the theater --- again. They then walked down the alley and made their way to waiting limousines who drove them around the block and back to the front of the theater ---.
Tiffany Chase pushed back her bleached blonde curls. She smiled for the paparazzi who called out her name. Behind the brilliant movie star brights tooth smile she was cringing.
She knew the movie was a dog...
finis
1-13-14
Indio
She had made 4 movies back to back. One, a small budget indy, was getting rave reviews at film festivals. Her part was a featured role and she had played it well. She smiled when she thought of her acting. Too bad "Small Town Neon" wasn't playing instead of the dog she would suffer sitting through. She could have rejected the part but she had wanted out of her contract and she had one more movie to make. So she had made "Ricky Perkins 35th Girlfriend."
"Tiffany! Tiffany!" The crowds yelled out her name as she walked down the red carpet. She wore her signature color --- Tiffany pink. It had a sheen of "Tiffany silver " to it --- a color that did not flatter her olive skin tone or hazel-brown eyes. But a stylist ( long since fired ) had named the color and the studio had commissioned a no name designer to make her the strapless satin and tulle Tiffany pink" gown. The day after the premiere gauche teenagers around the country would be able to buy 99 dollar knockoffs of the frightening frock at their local department stores. She shuddered at the thought of those color challenged adolescents.
Tiffany entered the theater; her leading man was already in the lobby. Together they gave interviews ( lies about how excited they were to be in the movie ), how it was a classic romantic comedy ( big lie ). The cast and those who were there for the premiere sat in their seats as the lights dimmed.
It was even worse than cast, crew and the director had feared. The writer-producer, a narcissistic twit who was the nephew of the third wife of a once famous producer, beamed. This movie was his "baby" and he saw only what his deluded mind wanted him to see. Everyone else cringed.
After the viewing everyone left hastily by the rear exit. The members of the pressed had been barred from the screening. Word of mouth would tell the public how wretched the movie was once it hit the theaters. No one left by the front entrance of the theater; no one that is, except the writer-producer. He walked out of the theater with his sycophants and entourage. Most of the crowd, and all of the paparazzi, had dissipated. In the night air the wind blew bits of debris to the deserted neon.
Tiffany Chase pushed back her bleached blonde curls. She smiled for the paparazzi who called out her name. Behind the brilliant movie star brights tooth smile she was cringing. Tiffany was cringing because this was the 93rd time she had walked down the red carpet to see the premiere of this train wreck disaster of a movie.
Along with other members of cast and crew she had beat a hasty exit from a horrible experience. She KNEW she was a better actor than what she had portrayed on screen. That indy film getting accolades from the press and her peers had proved that. She hoped the indy flick, as well as the Big Budget Action comic book character movie ( large role, gritty character, mild Felix buzz ) could help her live this role down.
"Tiffany! Tiffany!" The crowds yelled out her name as she walked down the red carpet. Tiffany entered the theater.
She repeated the loop around and around it goes and when it ends --- when the hell would it ever end? The hapless cast and crew sat down in their seats and watched "Ricky Perkins 35th Girlfriend" again. They exited the theater --- again. They then walked down the alley and made their way to waiting limousines who drove them around the block and back to the front of the theater ---.
Tiffany Chase pushed back her bleached blonde curls. She smiled for the paparazzi who called out her name. Behind the brilliant movie star brights tooth smile she was cringing.
She knew the movie was a dog...
finis
1-13-14
Indio
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Introduction: The Star of Hollywood copyright 2015 CH Summers
If one comes to the city of Los Angeles they will find a star shining within its borders. This shining star is the district of Hollywood. Hollywood is the most famous district of the city and very probably the most famous district of the world. Hollywood is often perceived as being a city --- and she formerly had been. But Hollywood gave up her cityhood to become a district of Los Angeles in order to obtain water rights shortly after the turn of the twentieth century.
Hollywood originally started out as a strait laced and genteel lady but lost her inhibitions to become a brazen hussy. She kept the facade of being high class, deluding even herself as to what she had become as she aged, and not gracefully. She became drunk on power and notoriety, turning into a foul mouthed and fickle bawd. Down but never out, often misunderstood, she is quite the trooper. She hangs in there even when the public has tossed her out as gutter trash during the hard times she has often faced. She is recognized publicly as the yipping bitch dog of success. But in private she is often the crying cat of failure.
A wooing siren, she is often cruel and disdainful. She entices many to seek their fortunes within her indifferent and conscienceless streets. How many end up on her boulevards of broken and ground down into powder dreams? How many facets are there to this glitter rhinestone of a district, this tinsel town that is not a town but a state of mind and attitude?
There are five points of a star and in Hollywood can be found five areas that make up who and what Hollywood is.
ARTANGELES ( Artwould )
Upper most to be found in Hollywood are the artistic dreamers who reside in Artangeles. It is here one finds the artistic, those who have the restless fire to create. They dance within the flame of Bohemia, to the siren song of the Muse. They come to Hollywood with their wild hearts, their art and their dreams, hoping to succeed. These take what they can without giving up the identity of whom they are and what they are. They are the ones who are talented, who will not sell themselves short. Art has been the gift given to them. They will not prostitute that gift for gain. They will not lie down for the whoremongers of the casting couch. Nor will they sell out for a life of leisure bought at the expense of their souls or their integrity.
Artangeles is where many begin and where many will end.
Many have doctorates in the School of Hard Knocks. They know they live in a world where art is devalued, where their genius is seen as madness or as something criminal. The flame of creativity accelerates in them. It is art that is the adrenaline that races through their restless souls. They can do nothing else with their lives. They are who they are. Their God given talent is a blessing sort of. It can seem like a curse in the face of poverty and obscurity that knows their unknown names and faces. These are neither the whores or the fools of the Industry that calls itself Entertainment or Music. They are not the slaves of the suits that use and then discard. They don't create according to "formula." Who they are is in their genes, their genius. Theirs are lives lived in shadow, lives filled with kaleidoscopic visions others seldom see.
They might never find the fame or the fortune. But they do not perceive themselves as being failures. They continue to persevere even in the face of all odds. If they have a motto it is that of never giving up. Their success might be that they have accepted their lot in life even if their lot is that of a small single apartment or hotel room where they wile away their years in the pursuit of creating. They might not be recognized or adored by the masses but they are respected by their peers.
They live their lives in humbling poverty or on the edge of such. When one of the talented make it into the realm of stars, the rich and famous, those who live their lives on the shadowed side of the limelight cheer. There but for fortune it could have been them!
LOS DIABLOS ( Hellywood )
Some are too impatient or can not bear the thought of living outside of the bright glare of fame. They put out or sell out and find themselves thrust out of Artangeles. They have given up their art for the hollow face of fame or the bottomless bag of greed with its never satisfied avarice of fortune. This brings us to Los Diablos: the city of Devils.
Sell your soul for rock and roll? Certainly. Be a star --- but pay the price for your name in lights on the marquee of the concert hall or theater. You can sell your soul for fame, for fortune, for infamy. Someone will pay whatever it takes to get what they want or think they want. They will sell their soul for peanuts --- or for palaces. In the end they might come to realize they had sold diamonds for cut glass, gold for tinsel. Some might be bitter once they realize how they have been cheated. Others will defiantly shake their fists at heaven even as their souls cringe and shriek as they are taken to hell.
Can you hear the devil's laughter? The devil not only will get his due but he will cheat those who try to bargain with him. He will take his due as well as any dues they feel they had a right to collect on. Any dues they pay to get what they want or think they want is something often found to be not worth having. A limelight can turn to a slimelight. A star can be an oozing scar. A mansion in Los Diablos: to live in hell. But make a deal with the devil. It is a broad road many have traveled on.
Vampires, wer-creatures, hybrids of heaven and hell; these are also found in Los Diablos. and not all blood suckers are UnDead. Some of them are homo sapiens, more inhumane than the traditional creatures of the darkness. Fiends and freaks, fame seekers and fortune hunters find their way to this city of the diabolical.
If one knows how, they can repent of their devil's so-called "bargain." They might find themselves on the outskirts of Los Diablos The devil is not going to TELL them they have a chance to escape from the glitter spangled tinsel cages he offers them. They think they are damned because the devil tells them they are. Yes, some have crossed from light into darkness. Many do not find this out until it is too late to turn back and receive redemption for the souls they have cast aside for so little in return. There ARE gates in Los Diablo that can be entered only by the diabolically chipped. These are those who have given all for evil, for the chance to have power and do whatever they please. These, who are truly damned, rejoice at trampling under foot anything that is good.
While many are damned there are those who do have hope. Some long to find themselves with less fame and more salvation. For them there could be a chance that they are not truly lost.
CHRISTANGEL
Repent and find yourself in Christangel. This is the area of Hollywood where one finds more poor than rich, beggars on the streets, riffraff that needs a helping hand. There are gentle souls who give and rejoice in the giving. There are those who are hidden in the Light. They work behind the limelight that entices the innocent and the evil into stardom.
Christangel has missions and churches. It has sinners redeemed and saints. There are those who have a mission and calling to save a soul. Others are there to fleece the flock. There are many kooky religions, New Agey and otherwise. They all come with their brand of "Christ" whether one within or without. There are Christians to be found in high places ( a few ) and in low places ( more than a few ). There are preachers, teachers, leechers and creatures willing to cater to whatever itching ears or broken hearts want to hear or worship.
Christangel is not all that it seems. It hides more than a hypocrite or two. These hypocrites are often found inside of a very bright limelight. These are the"Christians" the rest of the world sees in Hollywood. The "Jesus" they worship is one of celebrity, a superstar rather than an Savior.
Cults and religions, thousands of them, flourish and thrive in the land of hopes and avarice. There are eastern religion gurus who preach a life of hunger and abstinence while they live lives of gluttony and depravity. There are Jewish temples and kabbalists. There are varying cults, ancient or modern, some worship wearing a mask of Christ that never existed; others are honestly pagan.
Many believers are those who believe in using the cults and churches for a network into a limelight that will give them fortune and fame. Religion is thriving in Christangel though true Christians are often anonymous. Even less than the integrity driven Bohemian, the Christian artist in Hollywood has less of a chance for fame and fortune. But then their souls are no longer their own and are not for sale for any price to the devil who would offer what so many others have bartered away for tinsel fortune and glitter fame.
GLAMANGELII
Illusion is the stock and trade of Hollywood. Where better to be seen or imagined in than in Glamangelii, the faery land of fantasy? It is here that illusion holds sway. It is an alternative Hollywood --- complete with alternative realities, a world of other place and time: Hollywood as it might have been or could be. Here you have glitter and glam, faeries and elfin, other worlds that exist side by side within the fantasy factories and on the dream boulevards of surreality. Here is a world of twilight, of shadows that might call your name or wear your face.
Glamour --- the entrancement of the many, the illusion that is spun like a glittering web to snare the innocent or the not so innocent in a maze of hunger, the hunger for the fulfillment of one's dreams. How many come to Hollywood with stars in their eyes, the glamour of what Hollywood represents to them, a fresh hope in their souls?
The borders of the Otherworld are closest to earth in this district of tinsel and enticement. The elfin kin have always loved trading faery gold ( that would turn to dry leaves ) for youth and its passion. The small screen offers up the delusion that things will be better, that YOU TOO can become one of the favored few, the celebrity, the icon adored and idolized by the masses. But the facade is a papier mache and crepe paper hung fantasy that turns to a multicolor mass of muddied confetti once a cold rain brings it to the streets of a hard stone reality.
Chance, Fate, Fortune and Fame walk the boulevards of Glamangelii. The windows of a neon shadow with an ironic smile, a shadow called Opportunity, those stained glass or marchpane sweet windows look out onto Glamangelii's Boulevard of Realized Dreams. And those doors of Opportunity --- will they open for you as you walk towards them, your heart full of hope and wonderment?
If the streets appear to be strewn with gold, if the stars in the sky are shining as brightly as diamond-flame above the smog clouded evening; if the stars on the street seem to cry out for your autograph, then it is possible you have walked from the bus station to this boulevard of sparkling enchantment here in Glamangelii.
BROKANGELZIN
Broken: the Broken Angels. Brokangelzin is where those who cannot accept the reality of obscurity and poverty find themselves. They have been broken by the loss of their hopes and their dreams, sometimes to the brittle point of madness. They live on the back streets of the boulevards, these crumpled remains of once hopeful and happy humans. They hide away their pain and their agony with a proud defiance, a curt anti-social rudeness.
They cannot ( or will not ) go back to where ever they came from. They will not go back to the small town or suburb that will never let them forget that they went to Hollywood and did not become a star. They cannot admit to failure. They have given up the dream and do not want to look at the reality of their broken down lives. Their only dream was that of stardom. They are not content to live in obscurity. They are not content to be embraced by the shadow they dread: Obscurity with a passionless face --- their face. No one knows their name. No one knows their face. No one cares. But THEY care. They are broken and they are eaten up by the bitterness that has left them with nothing. There is only the shattered reality of the once shining star that never shined except in their wanting and now dissatisfied hearts. The worm of you never made it mockery will greedily devour their souls and leave them with a broken and sharp edged future they face but never accept.
Also broken are those who have taken the bite out of reality's sharpened teeth by losing themselves in the uglier reality of drugs and alcohol. Their candyman will peddle them a sugar that is a deadlier poison than the addiction of fame. Their death in life is found in substances that will abuse and destroy them and those they can leech off of and blame for their own failings. These, who turn their lack of ambition into a loser's pitiful dance of darkness, might be on the street and sleeping off drunk or a high.
Or they could be nursing away their never healing wounds in a darkened room away from the limelight that might have faded or never was. Dreams to be had, found or lost, they lie broken in the dust of Brokangelzin.
FIVE POINTS OF THE STAR
HOLLYWOOD, the Star of Los Angeles, she shines for you with her five points of reality:
Artangeles: the Bohemian Enclave
Los Diablos: the rich and the damned
Christangel: with salvation -- for free or for a price
Glamangelii" where illusion and glamour hold sway.
Brokangelzin: where hope is gone and bitterness reigns
HOLLYWOOD: that grand old dame, tawdry bawd and defiant wild child of Los Angeles ----
she welcomes you!
1-1-2004 Hollywood
2-12-2007 Hollywood ( revised )
1-3-2015 Indio ( revised )
Hollywood originally started out as a strait laced and genteel lady but lost her inhibitions to become a brazen hussy. She kept the facade of being high class, deluding even herself as to what she had become as she aged, and not gracefully. She became drunk on power and notoriety, turning into a foul mouthed and fickle bawd. Down but never out, often misunderstood, she is quite the trooper. She hangs in there even when the public has tossed her out as gutter trash during the hard times she has often faced. She is recognized publicly as the yipping bitch dog of success. But in private she is often the crying cat of failure.
A wooing siren, she is often cruel and disdainful. She entices many to seek their fortunes within her indifferent and conscienceless streets. How many end up on her boulevards of broken and ground down into powder dreams? How many facets are there to this glitter rhinestone of a district, this tinsel town that is not a town but a state of mind and attitude?
There are five points of a star and in Hollywood can be found five areas that make up who and what Hollywood is.
ARTANGELES ( Artwould )
Upper most to be found in Hollywood are the artistic dreamers who reside in Artangeles. It is here one finds the artistic, those who have the restless fire to create. They dance within the flame of Bohemia, to the siren song of the Muse. They come to Hollywood with their wild hearts, their art and their dreams, hoping to succeed. These take what they can without giving up the identity of whom they are and what they are. They are the ones who are talented, who will not sell themselves short. Art has been the gift given to them. They will not prostitute that gift for gain. They will not lie down for the whoremongers of the casting couch. Nor will they sell out for a life of leisure bought at the expense of their souls or their integrity.
Artangeles is where many begin and where many will end.
Many have doctorates in the School of Hard Knocks. They know they live in a world where art is devalued, where their genius is seen as madness or as something criminal. The flame of creativity accelerates in them. It is art that is the adrenaline that races through their restless souls. They can do nothing else with their lives. They are who they are. Their God given talent is a blessing sort of. It can seem like a curse in the face of poverty and obscurity that knows their unknown names and faces. These are neither the whores or the fools of the Industry that calls itself Entertainment or Music. They are not the slaves of the suits that use and then discard. They don't create according to "formula." Who they are is in their genes, their genius. Theirs are lives lived in shadow, lives filled with kaleidoscopic visions others seldom see.
They might never find the fame or the fortune. But they do not perceive themselves as being failures. They continue to persevere even in the face of all odds. If they have a motto it is that of never giving up. Their success might be that they have accepted their lot in life even if their lot is that of a small single apartment or hotel room where they wile away their years in the pursuit of creating. They might not be recognized or adored by the masses but they are respected by their peers.
They live their lives in humbling poverty or on the edge of such. When one of the talented make it into the realm of stars, the rich and famous, those who live their lives on the shadowed side of the limelight cheer. There but for fortune it could have been them!
LOS DIABLOS ( Hellywood )
Some are too impatient or can not bear the thought of living outside of the bright glare of fame. They put out or sell out and find themselves thrust out of Artangeles. They have given up their art for the hollow face of fame or the bottomless bag of greed with its never satisfied avarice of fortune. This brings us to Los Diablos: the city of Devils.
Sell your soul for rock and roll? Certainly. Be a star --- but pay the price for your name in lights on the marquee of the concert hall or theater. You can sell your soul for fame, for fortune, for infamy. Someone will pay whatever it takes to get what they want or think they want. They will sell their soul for peanuts --- or for palaces. In the end they might come to realize they had sold diamonds for cut glass, gold for tinsel. Some might be bitter once they realize how they have been cheated. Others will defiantly shake their fists at heaven even as their souls cringe and shriek as they are taken to hell.
Can you hear the devil's laughter? The devil not only will get his due but he will cheat those who try to bargain with him. He will take his due as well as any dues they feel they had a right to collect on. Any dues they pay to get what they want or think they want is something often found to be not worth having. A limelight can turn to a slimelight. A star can be an oozing scar. A mansion in Los Diablos: to live in hell. But make a deal with the devil. It is a broad road many have traveled on.
Vampires, wer-creatures, hybrids of heaven and hell; these are also found in Los Diablos. and not all blood suckers are UnDead. Some of them are homo sapiens, more inhumane than the traditional creatures of the darkness. Fiends and freaks, fame seekers and fortune hunters find their way to this city of the diabolical.
If one knows how, they can repent of their devil's so-called "bargain." They might find themselves on the outskirts of Los Diablos The devil is not going to TELL them they have a chance to escape from the glitter spangled tinsel cages he offers them. They think they are damned because the devil tells them they are. Yes, some have crossed from light into darkness. Many do not find this out until it is too late to turn back and receive redemption for the souls they have cast aside for so little in return. There ARE gates in Los Diablo that can be entered only by the diabolically chipped. These are those who have given all for evil, for the chance to have power and do whatever they please. These, who are truly damned, rejoice at trampling under foot anything that is good.
While many are damned there are those who do have hope. Some long to find themselves with less fame and more salvation. For them there could be a chance that they are not truly lost.
CHRISTANGEL
Repent and find yourself in Christangel. This is the area of Hollywood where one finds more poor than rich, beggars on the streets, riffraff that needs a helping hand. There are gentle souls who give and rejoice in the giving. There are those who are hidden in the Light. They work behind the limelight that entices the innocent and the evil into stardom.
Christangel has missions and churches. It has sinners redeemed and saints. There are those who have a mission and calling to save a soul. Others are there to fleece the flock. There are many kooky religions, New Agey and otherwise. They all come with their brand of "Christ" whether one within or without. There are Christians to be found in high places ( a few ) and in low places ( more than a few ). There are preachers, teachers, leechers and creatures willing to cater to whatever itching ears or broken hearts want to hear or worship.
Christangel is not all that it seems. It hides more than a hypocrite or two. These hypocrites are often found inside of a very bright limelight. These are the"Christians" the rest of the world sees in Hollywood. The "Jesus" they worship is one of celebrity, a superstar rather than an Savior.
Cults and religions, thousands of them, flourish and thrive in the land of hopes and avarice. There are eastern religion gurus who preach a life of hunger and abstinence while they live lives of gluttony and depravity. There are Jewish temples and kabbalists. There are varying cults, ancient or modern, some worship wearing a mask of Christ that never existed; others are honestly pagan.
Many believers are those who believe in using the cults and churches for a network into a limelight that will give them fortune and fame. Religion is thriving in Christangel though true Christians are often anonymous. Even less than the integrity driven Bohemian, the Christian artist in Hollywood has less of a chance for fame and fortune. But then their souls are no longer their own and are not for sale for any price to the devil who would offer what so many others have bartered away for tinsel fortune and glitter fame.
GLAMANGELII
Illusion is the stock and trade of Hollywood. Where better to be seen or imagined in than in Glamangelii, the faery land of fantasy? It is here that illusion holds sway. It is an alternative Hollywood --- complete with alternative realities, a world of other place and time: Hollywood as it might have been or could be. Here you have glitter and glam, faeries and elfin, other worlds that exist side by side within the fantasy factories and on the dream boulevards of surreality. Here is a world of twilight, of shadows that might call your name or wear your face.
Glamour --- the entrancement of the many, the illusion that is spun like a glittering web to snare the innocent or the not so innocent in a maze of hunger, the hunger for the fulfillment of one's dreams. How many come to Hollywood with stars in their eyes, the glamour of what Hollywood represents to them, a fresh hope in their souls?
The borders of the Otherworld are closest to earth in this district of tinsel and enticement. The elfin kin have always loved trading faery gold ( that would turn to dry leaves ) for youth and its passion. The small screen offers up the delusion that things will be better, that YOU TOO can become one of the favored few, the celebrity, the icon adored and idolized by the masses. But the facade is a papier mache and crepe paper hung fantasy that turns to a multicolor mass of muddied confetti once a cold rain brings it to the streets of a hard stone reality.
Chance, Fate, Fortune and Fame walk the boulevards of Glamangelii. The windows of a neon shadow with an ironic smile, a shadow called Opportunity, those stained glass or marchpane sweet windows look out onto Glamangelii's Boulevard of Realized Dreams. And those doors of Opportunity --- will they open for you as you walk towards them, your heart full of hope and wonderment?
If the streets appear to be strewn with gold, if the stars in the sky are shining as brightly as diamond-flame above the smog clouded evening; if the stars on the street seem to cry out for your autograph, then it is possible you have walked from the bus station to this boulevard of sparkling enchantment here in Glamangelii.
BROKANGELZIN
Broken: the Broken Angels. Brokangelzin is where those who cannot accept the reality of obscurity and poverty find themselves. They have been broken by the loss of their hopes and their dreams, sometimes to the brittle point of madness. They live on the back streets of the boulevards, these crumpled remains of once hopeful and happy humans. They hide away their pain and their agony with a proud defiance, a curt anti-social rudeness.
They cannot ( or will not ) go back to where ever they came from. They will not go back to the small town or suburb that will never let them forget that they went to Hollywood and did not become a star. They cannot admit to failure. They have given up the dream and do not want to look at the reality of their broken down lives. Their only dream was that of stardom. They are not content to live in obscurity. They are not content to be embraced by the shadow they dread: Obscurity with a passionless face --- their face. No one knows their name. No one knows their face. No one cares. But THEY care. They are broken and they are eaten up by the bitterness that has left them with nothing. There is only the shattered reality of the once shining star that never shined except in their wanting and now dissatisfied hearts. The worm of you never made it mockery will greedily devour their souls and leave them with a broken and sharp edged future they face but never accept.
Also broken are those who have taken the bite out of reality's sharpened teeth by losing themselves in the uglier reality of drugs and alcohol. Their candyman will peddle them a sugar that is a deadlier poison than the addiction of fame. Their death in life is found in substances that will abuse and destroy them and those they can leech off of and blame for their own failings. These, who turn their lack of ambition into a loser's pitiful dance of darkness, might be on the street and sleeping off drunk or a high.
Or they could be nursing away their never healing wounds in a darkened room away from the limelight that might have faded or never was. Dreams to be had, found or lost, they lie broken in the dust of Brokangelzin.
FIVE POINTS OF THE STAR
HOLLYWOOD, the Star of Los Angeles, she shines for you with her five points of reality:
Artangeles: the Bohemian Enclave
Los Diablos: the rich and the damned
Christangel: with salvation -- for free or for a price
Glamangelii" where illusion and glamour hold sway.
Brokangelzin: where hope is gone and bitterness reigns
HOLLYWOOD: that grand old dame, tawdry bawd and defiant wild child of Los Angeles ----
she welcomes you!
1-1-2004 Hollywood
2-12-2007 Hollywood ( revised )
1-3-2015 Indio ( revised )
Friday, January 2, 2015
Foreward ( written 2007; 2015 ) Copyrighted 2015 CH ( Cynthia Helen ) Summers
I was almost fifteen and singing my heart out at a multi-church Christmas Festival in Long Beach, California. Out of three hundred kids I was the one who was approached by the Hollywood talent scout. Bright lights! A record contract! It was all within my grasp! Being underage I needed my parents' permission. But my dad looked at the talent scout and said "WE don't want anything to do with Hollywood." Now it is possible that my dad was trying to protect me from that nefarious den of iniquity. But --- Dad! I already had the bug!
I have had a love-hate relationship with this district of Los Angeles for most of my life. One does not necessarily make peace with it but one can find acceptance and happiness while living there. Of course there is still the "what if" or the "there but for fortune go I" thoughts that will meander through one's mind. There are the losers, the users, mediocre snoozers ,the boozers and the abusers. There are the rakes, the heartaches, the fakes, the flakes and the reprobates. I have met some wonderful kind people in Hollywood. I have also met some terrible and demonic, evil people here as well.
Hollywood is a destination. It is also a state of mind. It is fame and fortune or the loss of innocence and despair. Hollywood might be what you want it to be but more often a person will find it will shape you into what it wants you to be, regardless of your desires. You might end up as a star. Or you could end up with every dream cruelly broken, the sharp edges cutting you with scars only you can see.
Many people came to Hollywood and stayed because they realized they belonged here even though they did not belong anywhere else. A person could live frugally as an extra. The rents were cheap, the apartments ( Hollywood is over eighty per cent apartments ) plentiful. It was/is a sunny Bohemia. The rents are no longer cheap and the dream costs more. But thousands still flood onto its star-spangled streets.
Dreams are brought here, born here, live and die here. Hollywood, a district of Los Angeles, is a world of tinsel make-believe and fantasy. It is fame and fortune, dreams realized. Or it is mean streets that will harshly slap you with a cold dash of reality. Whichever the case may be --- welcome to where I hang my Bohemian beret --- welcome to Hollywood --- and enjoy the wild ride!
Hollywood, CA 2007
It has now been seven years since I moved from Hollywood to the Coachella Valley. I am still amazed that I have not been back to Hollywood since I moved here in 2007! My former apartment, which rented for under $450, would now rent for $1150! OUCHEE! The yuppies and the developers moved in and the rents went sky high. The working class neighborhood near Sunset and Vine is now the haunt of the hipster and the trust fund baby. OH ICK. Bohemia might still be in town but she is possibly in hiding under an assumed name. My Bohemian beret moved out of town and slept through the unmerciful desert summer day.
I miss Hollywood! And yet... for some reason, I wander those cracked and pitted concrete streets in the multi-colored kaleidoscope of my mind. I revisit its streets and boulevards, feeling as if I am still there. The neon of the Sunset Strip beckons me. When first started hollyWEIRD I thought it would be one book. I realize I now have written enough material for possibly three or more books. And still the ideas come.
I first latched onto the idea of hollyWEIRD because of mysteries. I write fantasy but I read mysteries. There are mystery series based in Hollywood or Los Angeles ( Ray Chandler comes to mind ). But where are the fantasy series in this Tinsel Town with its Fantasy Factory? That thought came into my mind one day ( one night ) and brought hollyWEIRD onto the written page. So here it is, whether that Bohemian beret resides in Hollywood or out in the desert where this night cat sits up and writes all night.
Did I mention I miss Hollywood? I miss the dear friends I made there. I owe them visits. The last time I lived in the desert ( in the 1980s ) I lived here seven years. My seven years are up. I need to move back to Hollywood! Ot at least within shouting and waving distance of it. But until then I will visit it here, through the stories I have written, and in memory.
Indio, CA 2015
CH ( Cynthia ) Summers
I have had a love-hate relationship with this district of Los Angeles for most of my life. One does not necessarily make peace with it but one can find acceptance and happiness while living there. Of course there is still the "what if" or the "there but for fortune go I" thoughts that will meander through one's mind. There are the losers, the users, mediocre snoozers ,the boozers and the abusers. There are the rakes, the heartaches, the fakes, the flakes and the reprobates. I have met some wonderful kind people in Hollywood. I have also met some terrible and demonic, evil people here as well.
Hollywood is a destination. It is also a state of mind. It is fame and fortune or the loss of innocence and despair. Hollywood might be what you want it to be but more often a person will find it will shape you into what it wants you to be, regardless of your desires. You might end up as a star. Or you could end up with every dream cruelly broken, the sharp edges cutting you with scars only you can see.
Many people came to Hollywood and stayed because they realized they belonged here even though they did not belong anywhere else. A person could live frugally as an extra. The rents were cheap, the apartments ( Hollywood is over eighty per cent apartments ) plentiful. It was/is a sunny Bohemia. The rents are no longer cheap and the dream costs more. But thousands still flood onto its star-spangled streets.
Dreams are brought here, born here, live and die here. Hollywood, a district of Los Angeles, is a world of tinsel make-believe and fantasy. It is fame and fortune, dreams realized. Or it is mean streets that will harshly slap you with a cold dash of reality. Whichever the case may be --- welcome to where I hang my Bohemian beret --- welcome to Hollywood --- and enjoy the wild ride!
Hollywood, CA 2007
It has now been seven years since I moved from Hollywood to the Coachella Valley. I am still amazed that I have not been back to Hollywood since I moved here in 2007! My former apartment, which rented for under $450, would now rent for $1150! OUCHEE! The yuppies and the developers moved in and the rents went sky high. The working class neighborhood near Sunset and Vine is now the haunt of the hipster and the trust fund baby. OH ICK. Bohemia might still be in town but she is possibly in hiding under an assumed name. My Bohemian beret moved out of town and slept through the unmerciful desert summer day.
I miss Hollywood! And yet... for some reason, I wander those cracked and pitted concrete streets in the multi-colored kaleidoscope of my mind. I revisit its streets and boulevards, feeling as if I am still there. The neon of the Sunset Strip beckons me. When first started hollyWEIRD I thought it would be one book. I realize I now have written enough material for possibly three or more books. And still the ideas come.
I first latched onto the idea of hollyWEIRD because of mysteries. I write fantasy but I read mysteries. There are mystery series based in Hollywood or Los Angeles ( Ray Chandler comes to mind ). But where are the fantasy series in this Tinsel Town with its Fantasy Factory? That thought came into my mind one day ( one night ) and brought hollyWEIRD onto the written page. So here it is, whether that Bohemian beret resides in Hollywood or out in the desert where this night cat sits up and writes all night.
Did I mention I miss Hollywood? I miss the dear friends I made there. I owe them visits. The last time I lived in the desert ( in the 1980s ) I lived here seven years. My seven years are up. I need to move back to Hollywood! Ot at least within shouting and waving distance of it. But until then I will visit it here, through the stories I have written, and in memory.
Indio, CA 2015
CH ( Cynthia ) Summers
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Why hollyWEIRD?
This blog will be about the stories I have written on what I thought would be a one book deal. I now have enough interconnecting stories for over 2 books and my ever scribbling fingers are now inching on towards what could be 3 books... and that is merely the beginning.
The idea for hollyWEIRD came from the realization that, while there were many mystery series ( Raymond Chandler is probably the best known example of the genre ) based in Hollywood, there were no fantasy series based in the fantasy factory known as Tinsel Town. I was living in Hollywood when this light bulb moment beamed brightly in my extremely fertile brain.
And why hollyWEIRD? Hollyweird is a nickname of Hollywood and has been so for decades. It is right up there with Smog Angeles and Berserkley. A bit irrelevant for those who call it thus, but often spoken with affection. So holly in small case while WEIRD in capital letters seemed appropriate, all things considered. I usually define Hollywood as a place where one could wear a 50s ballgown to a local fast food restaurant and rather than people looking at you as if to say "Who's the whack job?" people will come up to you and ask you where you got your ballgown because they want to get one like it.
I moved out of Hollywood in 2007 and now, with 2014 almost over, I have not yet returned. It is ironic. Even though I have been gone from where I once hung my Bohemian beret, I almost feel as if I still live there. It remains vivid in my mind. I see myself walking its tourist infested boulevards, meandering anonymously through them. I lived in Hollywood for almost 18 years. I remained poor and obscure. But I became rich with the many friendships of other disabled, elderly or the working grunts that make up Hollywood's backbone. I miss it. So I can revisit it in my memories and in my mind and also in the stories I write that take place in a Hollywood that sort of exists in irony and the shadows of obscurity and opportunity.
December 11, 2014
The idea for hollyWEIRD came from the realization that, while there were many mystery series ( Raymond Chandler is probably the best known example of the genre ) based in Hollywood, there were no fantasy series based in the fantasy factory known as Tinsel Town. I was living in Hollywood when this light bulb moment beamed brightly in my extremely fertile brain.
And why hollyWEIRD? Hollyweird is a nickname of Hollywood and has been so for decades. It is right up there with Smog Angeles and Berserkley. A bit irrelevant for those who call it thus, but often spoken with affection. So holly in small case while WEIRD in capital letters seemed appropriate, all things considered. I usually define Hollywood as a place where one could wear a 50s ballgown to a local fast food restaurant and rather than people looking at you as if to say "Who's the whack job?" people will come up to you and ask you where you got your ballgown because they want to get one like it.
I moved out of Hollywood in 2007 and now, with 2014 almost over, I have not yet returned. It is ironic. Even though I have been gone from where I once hung my Bohemian beret, I almost feel as if I still live there. It remains vivid in my mind. I see myself walking its tourist infested boulevards, meandering anonymously through them. I lived in Hollywood for almost 18 years. I remained poor and obscure. But I became rich with the many friendships of other disabled, elderly or the working grunts that make up Hollywood's backbone. I miss it. So I can revisit it in my memories and in my mind and also in the stories I write that take place in a Hollywood that sort of exists in irony and the shadows of obscurity and opportunity.
December 11, 2014
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
CH Summers
hollyWEIRD
CH Summers
@2014
A surreal macabre fantasy loosely based in Hollywood ( a district of Los Angeles ), California
There are five points of the star found along the boulevards of the city of realized or broken dreams known as Hollywood ... These are:
Artangeles: Fame
Christangel: Obscurity
Glamangelii: Fortune
Brokangelzin: Poverty
Los Diablos: Infamy
This is dedicated to all of those who pour into Hollywood in search of their dreams and to those who remain even if those dreams fell by the wayside but who stayed because they had found a home for their eccentric souls.
In memory of Miss Betty. We miss you.
CH Summers
@2014
A surreal macabre fantasy loosely based in Hollywood ( a district of Los Angeles ), California
There are five points of the star found along the boulevards of the city of realized or broken dreams known as Hollywood ... These are:
Artangeles: Fame
Christangel: Obscurity
Glamangelii: Fortune
Brokangelzin: Poverty
Los Diablos: Infamy
This is dedicated to all of those who pour into Hollywood in search of their dreams and to those who remain even if those dreams fell by the wayside but who stayed because they had found a home for their eccentric souls.
In memory of Miss Betty. We miss you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)