Wow. Our experiment is off to a great start—let's see if we can finish it off sooner than expected.
Alice Schiller, once the owner (with her husband Harry) of the Pink Pussycat nightclub on Santa Monica Boulevard, has died. This is from the LA Times obituary:
Opened in 1961, it was pink through and through, just like the inside of Schiller's house and her entire wardrobe....Schiller and her husband drove a pink Cadillac and a pink Rolls-Royce, which bore the words "Follow Us to the Pink Pussycat.
I thought you might all like to see a picture of that Rolls before it was painted pink. That's it, parked in front of our little stucco house in Orange County around 1960 or so. That's my sister standing in front of it, ever so fashionable in her yellow raingear and red boots.
Somewhere I have a picture of the Rolls being unloaded off a ship in Long Beach before my father took possession of it. As you can imagine, this purchase was a boondoggle of the highest order, the car's chief claim to fame being the fact that my brother was almost born in its back seat in 1961. But say this for it: it got everyone to St. Mary's hospital just in time for a happy ending. The next year, we sold it to the Schillers, who painted it pink and eventually installed it in front of the nightclub.
At least, that's my recollection of the story. My mother isn't home right now, so I can't swear to every detail. But that's my connection to today's news. Just thought I'd share.