Thirty Years Ago
C. Arnholt Smith was alone when he walked the two blocks from Judge Robert Conyers’ courtroom to the Chamber building. One young man recognized him and, recalling that this was the day Smith was to be sentenced, asked him how things went. “Not too good,” was the reply. “I got three years in jail, five years’ condition of probation, and a fine of $681,000.”
It is difficult to measure the impact of Conrad Arnholt Smith on San Diego without resorting to hyperbole; and it was with some justification that downtown’s Grant Club, in 1961, ordained him “Mr. San Diego.” … His domain began to unravel in the 1970s, with the major blow occurring October 18, 1973, when the U.S. National Bank, founded by Smith in 1933, was declared insolvent.
— CITY LIGHTS: “DUE PROCESS,” Dan Trigaboff, June 21, 1979
Twenty-Five Years Ago
What do these local publications have in common: the Pennysaver, a weekly “shopper” that consists almost exclusively of classified ads; the Arena News, a monthly publicity sheet for the San Diego Sports Arena; the Charger Football Weekly, a sports tabloid featuring stories about the San Diego Chargers; and the Heritage, a weekly newspaper for the Jewish community?
They’ve all got restaurant critics, as do more than 30 other publications (and two television stations).
— CITY LIGHTS: “INK ON FOOD ALL OVER TOWN,” Thomas K. Arnold, June 21, 1984
Twenty Years Ago
Tamara Rand, 54
Bandini Street, Mission Hills
November 10, 1975
The victim, a real-estate broker and the wife of a wealthy physician, was found sprawled on the floor of her kitchen, a cup of tea untouched on a nearby countertop. She had been neatly shot five times: once through the back, once through the ear, and three times under the chin. A few months earlier, she had sued Allen Glick, 33, a La Jolla financier with Las Vegas gambling interests, for fraud stemming from a land deal.
In his biography of Jimmy “the Weasel” Fratianno, author Ovid Demaris reports that the slaying was the work of the mob:
“‘Jimmy, this broad was going to drag Glick through a lot of shit,’ [Frank] Bompensiero [a reputed mobster] said.”
— “A GEOGRAPHY OF SAN DIEGO MURDERS,” Matt Potter, June 22, 1989
Fifteen Years Ago
The band member said their band had gigs scheduled at a bar in Pacific Beach on New Year’s Eve. John had not shown up.
During the night I decided I was going to get up and go check the storage closet in the morning.
I walked outside to the storage door. I pushed on the door and opened it. I saw the rope around John’s neck and John’s face looking at me.
— “THE SECRET OF THE SHED,” Rick Sloan, June 16, 1994
Ten Years Ago
When I was young, it was Mom who assured me that if a monster ever came out from under the bed to get me, she would tear it to pieces with her fingernails.
It was Dad who made me turn myself in to the principal after he found out I had been drinking at a high school cast party, a violation of school policy as well as the law.
— “KEEP YOUR EYE ON DAD,” Matthew Lickona, June 17, 1999
Five Years Ago
Mr. Cornforth was in the Navy. Ms. Henderson worked at the Coco’s in Escondido and went to school at Palomar College.
When Mr. Cornforth went to sea later that fall, he and Ms. Henderson exchanged e-mails. “We were out for one to three weeks at a time,” Mr. Cornforth explains. “That’s when it really hit me. The way she wrote. Her words were really cute. One time she wrote, ‘Life on land is sure dry without you here.’”
— “LOVERS LANE,” Leslie Ryland, June 17, 2004