Thirty-Five Years Ago
KOLCHAK: I have found evidence of a most interesting case of vampirism. Meet me at Colinwood in Collinsport, Maine. Count D.
TIM! What do you mean Brennan’s been snooping around the garage? Haven’t you gotten the new padlock? Uncle Martin.
— CLASSIFIEDS, February 27, 1975
Thirty Years Ago
When Shanks stepped to the tee on number five, a golf cart pulled up behind us. In it were two men wearing suits, ties, and looks that could scare a stevedore. One of them, who did a convincing imitation of Mr. Goodbar, said, “Boys, could you hold up for a second? The President will be playing through.”
I was curious about how [Nixon] would strike a golf ball, since I subscribe to Michael Murphy’s comment, in Golf in the Kingdom, that a golfer’s swing is a reflection of his soul. All sorts of questions, I felt, would soon get answers.
— “ONE GOOD BOUNCE,” Jeff Smith, February 28, 1980
Twenty-Five Years Ago
[Jim Noel] has produced a bumper sticker upon which is emblazoned the legend “Citizens SWAT Team. Stop Crime — Shoot First.” On the bottom of the sticker, Noel gives a North Park address for “Crazy Eddies’ Gun Shop.” There is no Crazy Eddie. There is no Crazy Eddie’s Gun Shop. “I’m not advocating that anyone break the law. I don’t have a gun shop. I don’t plan on owning a gun shop. I don’t even own a gun, but the criminals don’t know that,” he says.
— CITY LIGHTS: “STICK FIRST AND ASK QUESTIONS LATER,” Abe Opincar, February 28, 1985
Twenty Years Ago
Nash and I and some 3000 other people subscribe ($8 per month, $3 per hour) to The WELL, a four-year-old computer conferencing system. Such a system permits an individual to sit at a computer to which a modem is affixed, and with computer, modem, and telephone, dial a number and enter into typed conversation with other subscribers.
— “MEMBERS OF THE KEYBOARD,” Judith Moore, March 1, 1990
Fifteen Years Ago
If you are looking for the essence of the city, do not look for it at Fourth and Broadway. Drive toward downtown on I-5, yes, but when that Oz view of spires, glass, and jetcraft swings around the hillside at you, turn aside from it. Take the exit to Washington Street. It is an uninteresting vein itself, but means of access to a crucial artery: University Avenue.
— “UNIVERSITY AVENUE: FROM WASHINGTON STREET TO LA MESA BOULEVARD,” various authors, February 23, 1995
Ten Years Ago
This old guy, a book collector, was living in the Keating Building, and they told him he had to move. He didn’t want to, but he moved to the Majestic with all his books. Thousands of books. He told the people [at the Majestic], ‘This is my last move. I’m not gonna move my books anymore.’ About a year later they decided to tear the hotel down. He said he wasn’t going to move. They didn’t see him for about a month. Finally, the manager went up to his room and found him dead. He committed suicide. He had told everybody, ‘I’m not moving my books,’ and, by God, he didn’t.
— “BULLETS AND BROADWAY,” John Brizzolara, February 24, 2000
Five Years Ago
The state law that created the San Diego County Regional Airport Authority says nothing about hiring a small army of pollsters, political consultants, and public relations people to sell voters on moving the airport.
The law does require the airport authority, which took over ownership and operation of Lindbergh Field from the port district on January 1, 2003, to “review all options of alternative sites, including, but not limited to, expansion of the existing airport site” and to submit its recommendation to the voters by November 7, 2006.
— “LEAVIN’ ON A JET PLANE,” Matt Potter, February 24, 2005