Jeff Wysard Realty
Huell Howser's home in 29 Palms, which just went on the market for $395,000.
Update, March 12: Huell Howser's desert getaway has been sold for $650,000 in cash after about 130 came to an open house in February. Jeff Wysard, the real estate agent handling the property, said that the house and the adjoining Autry parcel received multiple offers.
The buyers are staying anonymous for now. Proceeds go to Chapman University to benefit Huell's endowed scholarship and archives. Chapman unveils a permanent Huell Howser exhibit at the end of the month.
Previously: Huell Howser 's desert hideaway could be yours for just under $400,000. And you could film a decent Western movie on the 70 adjacent acres that are also for sale.
During travels for his show, Huell passed through the desert burg of Twentynine Palms and loved it instantly; in 1997, when this house there, on nearly 12 acres, went up for sale, he bought it in a day and got to work on remodeling, intent on updating the circa-1953 house while preserving its character.
I'm on a quest. If I see one more documentary, book, or exhibit about Charles Bukowski, Frida Kahlo, or Hunter S. Thompson, I'm going to lose it.
Well, I don't mind seeing this photo of Thompson again:
(What happened, Hunter?)
Yes, they were great. Yes, they used to be wholly unappreciated or under-appreciated. But not any more! We know all about them, they have been appreciated. They lurk in the shadows no more. But they are now overexposed and no better than the Rolling Stones in the way journo's let them suck up space in the public's limited attention span. (Look, I'm fine if the Stones record new albums and go on tour and write books, but why do journo's feel compelled to cover each new thing like there's something new to talk about? I'm fine if you want to do yet another Hunter S. Thompson documentary, but really, couldn't you find someone else?)
This group of artists have become stand-ins for the outré, the underground, the outsider; a subject any sleepy journo or documentarian can revisit on a random fifth or 10th anniversary that will guarantee an audience and some web hits.
Robert Millard/LA Opera
Greer Grimsley (top) as John Claggart and Keith Jameson as the Novice.
LA Opera performs Benjamin Britten's "Billy Budd" through March 16 at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The opera is based on Herman Melville’s book of the same name, adapted by E.M. Forster and Eric Crozier, and features baritone Liam Bonner as Billy, tenor Richard Croft as Captain Vere, and bass Greer Grimsley as Claggart in a production by Francesca Zambello. James Conlon leads the LA Opera orchestra and chorus.
“Billy Budd” was Herman Melville’s literary time bomb. A parable of guilt and innocence, it wasn’t until long after the great novelist’s death that this story was found unfinished in his archives. But it instantly took its place, alongside “Moby Dick,” as one of his major works.
Perhaps because it is both great and incomplete, people ever since have struggled to make whole Melville’s tale of a near-perfect man destroyed by his own goodness. I first saw it as a live TV play in 1955, when it starred, of all people, a very young William Shatner as Billy.
Comedian Sid Caesar in the backyard of his Beverly Hills, Ca., home on May 11, 1982.
I think it was Matt Groening who said that the prime virtue of television was that it allowed families who wanted to kill one another to sit together peacefully for hours on end.
That’s exactly what the various iterations of Sid Caesar’s “Show of Shows” did for my beleaguered family unit back in the early 1950s — my mother wasting away from a series of degenerative ailments for which she refused to seek medical attention, my father abraded on the millstone of a dead-end white-collar job, and my brother and I struggling through troubled early adolescence with a minimum of positive parental attention.
In other words, we were like many, perhaps most, of the real-time families of that Eisenhower era, silently miserable in an age of plenty for many — and hypocritical happiness for all.
The LA Opera's 2010 dress rehearsal for Franz Schreker’s not quite forgotten 3-hour masterpiece, “Die Gezeichneten,” or “The Stigmatized." It's now available in a 3-CD set from Bridge Records.
Off-Ramp contributor Marc Haefele reviews a newly released recording of “Die Gezeichneten,” by Franz Schreker. It's a 3-CD set from Bridge Records featuring the Los Angeles Opera and soloists under James Conlon, from the 2009-2010 season.
One of the proudest accomplishments in the 28-year history of the Los Angeles Opera has finally gone on the record, literally. It's a production brought to the Dorothy Chandler stage in an unprecedented, if controversial, demonstration of the company’s maturity, raising its international reputation as a leading-edge musical institution.
No, I am most certainly not talking about the notorious Achin Freya-designed Wagner Ring Cycle, a $30 million fiscal sinkhole that, with a production that looked like a collaboration between Bertolt Brecht and Pee-wee Herman, has hamstrung the company’s ambitions ever since. I'm talking about L.A. Opera’s courageous mounting, for the first time in the Western Hemisphere, of Franz Schreker’s not quite forgotten three-hour masterpiece, “Die Gezeichneten,” or “The Stigmatized."