My 50 Years in Palms
by David I. Worsfold
This is the sixth in a series of articles on the history of Palms by Mr. Worsfold, a recognized historian and civic leader who has lived in Palms for 50 years.
In January, 1923, the police pinched the gang for coasting down Jasmine Avenue Hill in an old wagon, and so we had to go to the Juvenile Bureau. They said the charge was foolish. Four months later, Edgar and I were picked up for more serious charges: stealing wood and violating the curfew law. I had just finished working for Miss Merrill of the Meralta Theater. I had been given permission to obtain the wood left behind from a "Our Gang" picture and were taking this when we were nabbed by the police. While we were being booked, Miss Merrill came by and saw what was happening, then bounced into the station, saying, "What's going on here?" She detected alcohol on the policeman's breath. What she the said was not very lady-like but it was convincing enough that we were let go.
During my
three years at Venice High School I was bashful and never participated in
sports or even dated. I didn't have many friends; I wasn't much of
an extrovert. I'm sure I was afraid of especially the opposite sex,
but I did debate with many people on various subjects.
I became aware of the changing from farm to subdivided land when the bean farm opposite Venice High was subdivided. The Gills' farm at Pico and Sepulveda became the start of Westwood, and the Gill farm on First Street was replaced by a horse racetrack. Without legal gambling, the race track was destined to fold and become a board track for auto racing.
I saw one of the races on the old Beverly Racetrack when Gaston Chevrolet and two other men were killed in a spectacular crash. Several Palms boys had walked up the ditch and under the fence to the parking lot; we couldn't got into the grandstand or the center of the track, and so to see the race we climbed up the outside of the track just at the South-East turn that was about 200 feet from the point of the crash. The rolling cars stripped much of the fence and here we were high up in the air with no place to go. Death came very close that day; one of the boys must have had a rabbit's foot with him that day.
In July, 1923, Edgar Wilkerson and I went to Catalina for a week, and one day we walked 24 miles from Avalon to the Isthmus. We didn't plan to go so far and had no lunch. We picked some cactus pears and at Middle Ranch, we borrowed three or four plums. For the last l3 miles we had no water. At the Isthmus we bought a sandwich and promoted a ride on the Virginian back to Avalon. Kids today are softies, they ride just to go three blocks.
In 1923, when land was being subdivided at Stilson Street (now Palms Boulevard) west of Overland Avenue, I objected that the street was not being laid straight, and 40 years after that I was working to get the city to straighten and widen Palms Boulevard.
Because I lived next door to the Palms School, the principal, Mrs. Gamble, offered me the job of assistant part-time janitor at the school. The job paid $39.37 a month, and I took the job. I never did understand the odd amount of money, but I banked more than $600 on the job. Dad was supporting me while I was attending high school and so I saved the whole salary. I later used $230 of it for my first car, a used 1922 Ford Model T that I called the green lizard. Besides the money on the janitor job, I received priceless memories from the regular janitor, Jim McKie, a Scotchman with a sense of humor, an infectious laugh and a brogue so thick you could cut it with a knife.