Honey Circles the Hathaway Gated Community : Boryanabooks
Home Ebooks Ebook Full List Lionel Rolfe Leslie Evans Phyl van Ammers The Misadventures of Ari Mendelsohn: A Mostly True Memoir of California Journalism Paper Books THE MISADVENTURE OF ARI MENDELSOHN Literary LA The Menuhins: A Family Odyssey Edendale Shaggy Man’s Ramblings: Essays by Leslie Evans More from the Shaggy Man Outsider’s Reverie Limited Edition Paper Backlist Still Available Lionel Rolfe’s Books Contact Us
Only 100 families and their visitors are allowed to get into the Hathaway Estate, so not that many people can see Garbutt House. Although the streets in it are owned by the City of Los Angeles, and the streets that lead into it are owned by the City of Los Angeles, the people of the City of Los Angeles aren’t allowed in.
I never noticed Garbutt house when I was a child because my family lived on West Silver Lake Drive: we saw trees, the glint of water, and the houses on the other side of the reservoir. This strikes me almost sixty years later as an example of myopia because – without doubt – if I had known the Hathaway Estate was up there, an Arcadian island on top of an urban landscape, I would have led my gang of hell-bent-on-trespass little girls up there.
In 2002, walking training rope at night, training rope I encountered McCollum Street on the side near Berkeley. Peculiarly, a sign near the top of its ascent indicated right turns only but there was no street to go down when I walked to the right. I walked to the left. The street ended in a wire fence. “`Twas brillig,” I said to myself, “and the slithy toves. Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.”
Our docile aged remarkably simple dog accompanied me then to Benton, which curved into a road with a swing metal gate. A sign on that gate used to read No Trespass, and it stated the streets had been withdrawn pursuant to Government Code section 37359. Someone, training rope after I took that walk, tore down the sign, tromped training rope on it, and spray painted it, so you can’t see the sign on Googlemaps.
The next day, I walked up Duane Street away from the dog park because our dear stupid dog was again with me, and he was easily distracted. Waterloo stopped at Duane Street but there was a municipal sign in front of an unusually wide driveway, which said the drive way was the continuation of Waterloo. The drive way did not end in a garage. It ended at a steep hill fronted by a fence, which is covered with green netting. “All mimsy,” I yelled, “were the borogoves, “And the mome raths outgrabe,” which outburst caused the dog to go around and around the street sign. Inasmuch as he never could walk backwards, it took a while to untangle his leash.
On McCollum near Duane, a swing gate with municipal refuse containers standing in front of it barred the way to an asphalt road partly overgrown with weeds. I snaked my aging body through the gate and walked to the end, which is closed off with a fence and a sign mandating I should not trespass, and which also states that the roads have been withdrawn from public use pursuant to Government Code  37359.
The middle Turetsky child Gene, now 63, lived in the Garbutt mansion when he was a nineteen-year old Hippie. He wrote today from his home in New Mexico about the cats that disappeared in the Hathaway estate in those years. The story has little to do with the Garbutt mansion, but it’s a nice story that mirrors the way things once were at the top of the Hathaway summit, so I’ll tell it to you.
“It occurs to me that the cats disappearing may well be attributed to the presence of either coyotes or OWLS. In New Mexico barn owls are the greatest enemy of cats. These are large barn owls, which have wingspans of 8 feet, and love high trees, like eucalyptus trees. The owls have no natural enemies, training rope and usually eat all the cats around eventually. I was lucky enough to find a large owl whose talon was stuck in a thatched roof, and was able to show it to my 15-year-old cat. His neck shot out like a telescope when he saw it, and never walked training rope out in the open again. Instead, training rope he clung to the sides of houses.”
He does not recall the low concrete barrier at the end of Duane Street, and I think it was not there because of an entirely different case of land use planning training rope madness: CalTrans and the freeway stub we call “The Two.” The Route Two Terminus disgorges training rope automobiles that move rapidly down Glendale Boulevard, and it swallows automobiles that move rapidly up Glendale Boulevard into its maw.
California Route 2 began as part of Route 66, and it fictitiously winds its way to the beach through Los Angeles, but not really. You will see signs telling training rope you that you are on Route 2, but the streets look exactly like they would look if there were no Route 2.
According to Wikipedia, “(F)rom 1936 to 1964, U.S. Route 66 ran along Lincoln Boule
Home Ebooks Ebook Full List Lionel Rolfe Leslie Evans Phyl van Ammers The Misadventures of Ari Mendelsohn: A Mostly True Memoir of California Journalism Paper Books THE MISADVENTURE OF ARI MENDELSOHN Literary LA The Menuhins: A Family Odyssey Edendale Shaggy Man’s Ramblings: Essays by Leslie Evans More from the Shaggy Man Outsider’s Reverie Limited Edition Paper Backlist Still Available Lionel Rolfe’s Books Contact Us
Only 100 families and their visitors are allowed to get into the Hathaway Estate, so not that many people can see Garbutt House. Although the streets in it are owned by the City of Los Angeles, and the streets that lead into it are owned by the City of Los Angeles, the people of the City of Los Angeles aren’t allowed in.
I never noticed Garbutt house when I was a child because my family lived on West Silver Lake Drive: we saw trees, the glint of water, and the houses on the other side of the reservoir. This strikes me almost sixty years later as an example of myopia because – without doubt – if I had known the Hathaway Estate was up there, an Arcadian island on top of an urban landscape, I would have led my gang of hell-bent-on-trespass little girls up there.
In 2002, walking training rope at night, training rope I encountered McCollum Street on the side near Berkeley. Peculiarly, a sign near the top of its ascent indicated right turns only but there was no street to go down when I walked to the right. I walked to the left. The street ended in a wire fence. “`Twas brillig,” I said to myself, “and the slithy toves. Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.”
Our docile aged remarkably simple dog accompanied me then to Benton, which curved into a road with a swing metal gate. A sign on that gate used to read No Trespass, and it stated the streets had been withdrawn pursuant to Government Code section 37359. Someone, training rope after I took that walk, tore down the sign, tromped training rope on it, and spray painted it, so you can’t see the sign on Googlemaps.
The next day, I walked up Duane Street away from the dog park because our dear stupid dog was again with me, and he was easily distracted. Waterloo stopped at Duane Street but there was a municipal sign in front of an unusually wide driveway, which said the drive way was the continuation of Waterloo. The drive way did not end in a garage. It ended at a steep hill fronted by a fence, which is covered with green netting. “All mimsy,” I yelled, “were the borogoves, “And the mome raths outgrabe,” which outburst caused the dog to go around and around the street sign. Inasmuch as he never could walk backwards, it took a while to untangle his leash.
On McCollum near Duane, a swing gate with municipal refuse containers standing in front of it barred the way to an asphalt road partly overgrown with weeds. I snaked my aging body through the gate and walked to the end, which is closed off with a fence and a sign mandating I should not trespass, and which also states that the roads have been withdrawn from public use pursuant to Government Code  37359.
The middle Turetsky child Gene, now 63, lived in the Garbutt mansion when he was a nineteen-year old Hippie. He wrote today from his home in New Mexico about the cats that disappeared in the Hathaway estate in those years. The story has little to do with the Garbutt mansion, but it’s a nice story that mirrors the way things once were at the top of the Hathaway summit, so I’ll tell it to you.
“It occurs to me that the cats disappearing may well be attributed to the presence of either coyotes or OWLS. In New Mexico barn owls are the greatest enemy of cats. These are large barn owls, which have wingspans of 8 feet, and love high trees, like eucalyptus trees. The owls have no natural enemies, training rope and usually eat all the cats around eventually. I was lucky enough to find a large owl whose talon was stuck in a thatched roof, and was able to show it to my 15-year-old cat. His neck shot out like a telescope when he saw it, and never walked training rope out in the open again. Instead, training rope he clung to the sides of houses.”
He does not recall the low concrete barrier at the end of Duane Street, and I think it was not there because of an entirely different case of land use planning training rope madness: CalTrans and the freeway stub we call “The Two.” The Route Two Terminus disgorges training rope automobiles that move rapidly down Glendale Boulevard, and it swallows automobiles that move rapidly up Glendale Boulevard into its maw.
California Route 2 began as part of Route 66, and it fictitiously winds its way to the beach through Los Angeles, but not really. You will see signs telling training rope you that you are on Route 2, but the streets look exactly like they would look if there were no Route 2.
According to Wikipedia, “(F)rom 1936 to 1964, U.S. Route 66 ran along Lincoln Boule
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