Zapaterias on Maple

Three shoe repair businesses with hand painted signs on Maple Avenue.

As evidenced by the proliferation of LED video display billboards, we haven't the most committed sign control in Los Angeles.

I've often joked about seeking public office on a platform solely concerned with aesthetics. Obviously, that would mean support for historic districts and design review boards, tree planting, and mansionization ordinances. I'd also police sign clutter.

Most municipalities have sign ordinances (some govern how much display glass can be covered, for example), but seldom are they applied.

"Bootleg" signs appear everywhere, fastened to chainlink, stapled to poles, promoting musical acts, offering services.

Those bootleg signs I got an issue with, these boot signs I kinda like.

Three Images

Pictures of Mickey Mouse taped to a window in an abandoned dwelling.
According to sociologist Jose Vergara, Mickey enjoys unrivaled transcultural appeal.


The exquisite marquee of the Union Theatre, now home of the Velaslavasay Panorama, in West Adams' Victorian Village. The Union, once the home of a union (of tile workers), was originally constructed in 1921 and heavily remodeled in 1939.

An unusual pocket window, glimpsed in the bathroom of an 1898 Queen Anne cottage. The sash window recesses into a pocket fronted by a built-in mirror. Cool.

No Club to Join

Here's my latest sales pitch: experienced buyer/seller agent available for assignment, no club to join.

I can't even buy a measly tube of toothpaste without bothering over some plastic strip. I've so many club cards they've outgrown my wallet. A few retailers request a phone number instead--preferable, but still sometimes confusing. Might the account list the home number, or the cell number, the office number or the wife's cell number?! "Fuck, just give me the discount," I once blared, "and don't make me feel like a profligate loser!" A cluster of pancake-sized Guatemalan ladies, also in line, shook their heads in disapproval.

So that's it, no club to join, no cancellation fees, no contracts (unless it's a listing of course), no junk mail, no outsourcing. Lots of opinions....Hmmm, maybe that's where I've gone wrong.

Signs on Trees Part 2

Another installation from the writer of scripture (see Signs on Trees), banishing demons, and enlisting serpents, on a bold, red field. This posting, contrary to form, wasn't coupled with a Spanish language equivalent.

A re-sale solicitation for infant formula? Some kind of WIC/black market scheme, I'd guess.

Billings are more common along commercial corridors and are especially plentiful in the "sewing machine district" South of Washington, East of the Harbor Fwy.

I'm interested mostly in the hand-written. This creation was jacketed in Saran wrap.

Notices for plomeros, often stenciled, are frequent. Sometimes a phone number is given with the four number suffix broken in half (for example 213-733-76-58).
I asked one plumber about his marketing plan.
"Escrimas (fences), " he laughed.
"De cadena (of chain), I responded, knowing not at all how to say chain link.
"Mostly," he replied in unaccented English.

Three Abandoned Entries

Some of my entries are pretty banal admittedly, these failed to even rise to that level.

1. Kindles Donuts on Manchester. This was going to read, 'you don't need to go to Randy's in Westchester for programmatic architecture or chocolate sprinkles....'

2. There's a woman who drives around Expo Park West/University Park/North University Park gathering plastic bottles in her car. No point.


3. Something about Sock It To Me Cake (possibly named for a Laugh-In skit), or maybe Muslim bakeries, or maybe both.

Spelling Bee

Cimarron St. runs North to South, mostly alongside and parallel to Arlington Boulevard, through numerous mid city and South L.A. neighborhoods.

For what was Cimarron named? There's several possibilities: a river in Northeastern New Mexico, wild, mountainous sheep, a strong tea drink of Portuguese origin (chimarrao). In Spanish, cimarron refers to African slaves who ran away from Spanish masters.

Lately and for reasons I couldn't account, I'd trouble spelling the word, often adding a second "m." On a walk last week, the source of my spelling discomfiture became clear, different street sign renditions.

Both photographs were taken at the intersection of 27th & Cimarron. Below and above.

Signs on Trees

Electrical poles and streetlights are commonly "papered" with notices and fliers, recording industry promotions and pleas for los perros perdidos. Trees on the other hand are seldom festooned, respected as living things and quasi-private possessions.

Sometimes, revoltingly, a tree is tagged, often after the tree is adorned with a bright headlight-reflecting stripe.



My favorite, from the 2000 block of Oxford, presumably a No Parking sign, engulfed by a broad, unyielding trunk.






Scripture, sensitively fastened by string. These signs appear in many places, presumably the work of one, in English and Spanish. (32nd Street near Hill)





Los Angeles mayor Antonio Villaraigosa is spearheading a praiseworthy initiative entitled, Million Trees LA. As with most urban forest ventures, it encourages tree planting.
With my infinite powers, I would make tree planting mandatory. Every (plantable) lot in Los Angeles would be required to host at least one tree. Plant it, or face a property tax assessment!


And no signs, please.