A Man of L.A.

 A Man of L.A.

     Some of this I may have to consult Lissy about but Greg was truly a man steeped in the Los Angeles experience. When he was eight years old his Dad took us downtown to ride on Angel's Flight and I think he fell in love with the tarnished queen of angels right then. He spent lots of time within the city limits of this great city and traveled the freeways as much as any Angeleno. Yet, I am going to focus on his life in Mid-Wilshire which is about as true blue LA blood as it gets. He worked at an office in mid-Wilshire whose name escapes me (it might be Dworsky or Perkins and Will) but he often spoke of dropping into the "Bull and Bush" for a strengther after his architectural duties were done for the day. He also  was amenable to having probably the greatest hamburger ever made in the city at 6th and Berendo where Sam Cassell ran the wonderful "Cassell's hamburgers." Greg knew what was in the Farmers Market, he had intimate knowledge of Century City, could navigate the treacherous streets of Westwood and knew dirty old downtown like the back of his hand. He ate two sandwiches for lunch at the long gone Darms Market and demolished a pair of beef dips at Phillippees with sides. In his mid-Wilshire days he had a speaking relationship with a crazy bag lady who lived in street squat right on Wilshire where Greg would greet her and sometimes pass her a buck or two. She told him her sad story and he listened which is a great mercy to those out on the streets. The only reason he ever set a tire in Beverly Hills was because of his dear cuz Kent who was rather removed from the horse-manure falseness of little Santa Monica or Rodeo drive. Yet, on restaurant row there was the temple of prime rib called Lawry's which has and will be featured in this blog. Greg was a season ticket holder for the LA Rams and the UCLA Bruins. His enthusiasm was as much for the feeling of being in the like minded mob as it was about winning or losing. The same could be said about our Dodgers where we all visited during the good and rare bad times. He never had to wear team gear or don colors of our teams since he just assumed what was in his heart was more than enough support for our men and women. He loved the unique flavors of the city, mostly the old meat and potatoes flavors but he was a fan of Hi and Jack's at 8th and Olive where they squeezed fresh lemonade, at Vickman's near the flower district for breakfast, at the Pacific Dining Car for elegant meals and the Pantry that was more than even he could eat. He was not a dive bar kind of guy but was fond of Tom Bergins and the Tam O' Shanter where a man could have a generous whiskey done properly. So when I hear someone say they are into Los Angeles I remember a guy who never had to say it but was a son of the city of angels.