-- California Blue, by Roy Orbison
I've only ever flown on an airplane for one occasion in my life. This fact has actually startled people, and I can maybe understand why. We live in a fast-paced, global society. Air travel is commonplace. I, however, have always been deathly afraid of it. "But you're more likely to die in automobile than in an airplane," people always say. True, the statistics bear this out. But, once I'm crammed into that cylinder, along with who knows how many other people, high up in the sky, and something goes down, then the chances aren't good. My claustrophobia doesn't help matters, either.
March of 1991, however, saw the necessity for air travel for yours truly. I was 15, and my mom's hometown friend, Mary (and her husband, Emory) were living in Fresno, California. Mom wanted to visit them. I liked Mary & Emory though, if we're being honest, I was probably more lured by the siren's call of Hollywood. I've long been a film buff, and the desire to go where they make movies superseded the fear of getting on a plane. So, off we went. And, not just on one flight, but four altogether. We flew from Champaign, IL to Dayton, OH, then from Dayton to Los Angeles. The trip home, a week later, was the reverse. I was given some over-the-counter drug, and made it through the flight without doing my best William Shatner-in-the-Twilight Zone impression.
I'll never forget the shock of landing at LAX and departing the plane. Four hours earlier we were on a layover in Dayton, OH. The last thing I saw before entering the plane was an overcast Midwestern sky. Suddenly, a few hours later, we were greeted by smiling workers at LAX as we left the plane there, the temperature was notably warmer, and the sun was shining. 'Wow!,' I thought, as mom looked for Mary & Emory, whom we soon found amongst the crowd.
The first couple of days in California were spent in the greater Los Angeles area. We did some window shopping along Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills (where we saw James Caan, and Suzanne Pleshette). The first night, we stayed in a rather drab motel, across the freeway from Universal Studios. I whined to my mom about it, and she starkly informed me that it was affordable, so that was that. The next day was spent at the aforementioned movie studio. We got to see a lot of stuff that was like nirvana for me -- the Bates Motel and Psycho house, the Cabot Cove setting for Murder, She Wrote, and the town square from Back to the Future. We sat-in on a mock recording session for sound effects, which was set to a scene from Harry and the Hendersons.
My high school library had, for unknown reason, several volumes of Who's Who in America. When our class had its library hour, I would sit and peruse them and, one day as I was reading an edition from the late-1960s, I came across an entry for my favorite actor, Fred MacMurray. There was his smiling face, and a little bio about him. One of the factoids was his address -- 485 Halvern Dr., in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles. You may already see where this was going. When we were in LA, I begged Emory (who was driving us around) to take us by Fred MacMurray's house. He did so, bless his heart, but not without some grumbling. After several twists and turns (and one dead end), we finally found the house -- a respectable-looking colonial in an affluent neighborhood. I snapped a picture of it, and we were off.
After departing LA, we headed north, our ultimate destination being Mary & Emory's home in Fresno. We stayed one night in Morrow Bay, a lovely town on the coast. We dined at a restaurant that was literally on the beach. Our table was along the west wall, and the window next to our table looked out directly onto the Pacific Ocean. It was truly amazing. Our congenial host also reminded me somewhat of Jackie Cooper. That night, we stayed at a hotel in Morrow Bay. The adults fell asleep watching The Sound of Music. I had trouble falling asleep, as my mind kept drifting back to the power plant I'd seen earlier. At the time, I'd thought it was nuclear, and all I could think of was, 'What if it has a melt down like Chernobyl? We're too close to it -- we'll be dead.' Later I learned it was a coal and gas plant.
Part of our trip toward Fresno included a stop-off at San Simeon, where we toured the Hearst Castle. It had been the palatial home of William Randolph Hearst, the publishing magnate, and whom the fictional character Charles Foster Kane was based on in Citizen Kane. Part of the 2020 movie, Mank, is set there.
Somewhere between LA and Fresno, we stopped at a diner. It was in a small town that seemed to be nestled in a forest. Everything was green and, across the street from where we sat eating, was a one-screen movie theater. The marquee stated that it was showing Double Indemnity -- one of my favorite movies. In that moment, I felt comfortable and at home.
Finally, we arrived in Fresno. Mary & Emory lived in a nice ranch abode (they still do), and we spent a few days there. I remember that it hailed, and the joke was that mom and I had come all the way from Illinois, to sunny California, only for it to hail while we there. We went to a local theater and saw the new Robert De Niro film, Guilty by Suspicion, which was about a Hollywood director coming under scrutiny from the House Committee for Un-American Activities. It was alright. And, I remember watching the Oscars telecast while we were out there. Myrna Loy -- the wonderful actress who'd starred in the Thin Man movies -- received an honorary Oscar that year. She wasn't in the best of health then, and I think all she said was, "Thank you very much."
After a few days, mom and I headed back to LAX, said our goodbyes to our wonderful hosts, and flew back home (by way of Dayton). My fear of flying was in full force. I kept hearing what sounded like a loud thud, on a pretty regular basis, on the flight home. 'Great,' I thought, 'a part's coming loose from the plan and it' going to fall apart and crash.' About halfway through the trip I noticed a young man across the aisle and up a few seats. He was nervously tapping his foot on the floor, and it was making the rhythmic thudding sound. We survived the flight.
And that was my one and only time in California, thirty years ago this month. I wanted to go back as soon as we were home. From the bright lights of Los Angeles and Hollywood, to the gorgeous oceanside view from our restaurant in Morrow Boy, to the cozy diner in the wooded small town, to the opulent Hearst Castle, to our friends' home in Fresno, it was all so nice. All of those things, along with the ever-changing topography, made it a wonderful trip. Whenever I make it back there, I would love to retrace some steps, and see new (to me) things -- Yosemite, the Redwoods, and San Francisco come to mind.
But, I'll drive there next time.
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