BoxRec

La Mascota Bakery: a Boyle Heights tradition


Jenn Garbee / For The Times
TO GO: A customer is all smiles with a bag full of pastry from Boyle Heights' La Mascota.
The family-run store has been serving up bolillos, tamales and other Mexican classics for more than 50 years.

By Jenn Garbee

As the early Wednesday morning rush ends for champurrado, the cinnamon-scented hot Mexican chocolate thickened with masa harina, Rosina Valencia slips behind the semicircular enclave that conceals her desk. She readjusts her fuchsia snap-front work shirt and settles in to confirm wholesale bolillo orders from neighboring restaurants as an employee transfers dozens of the palm-sized loaves, still warm from the oven, to the display case.

"Two bolillos and just one croissant this time -- I'm on a diet -- one of those big chocolate chip cookies too," says 55-year-old Richard Vasquez, a La Moscata customer for as long as he can remember.

Lucy Garcia, a veteran employee of the Boyle Heights bakery, hands over a white paper sack already freckled with opaque butter stains from the pastries inside. Vasquez fishes around and pulls out a crusty bolillo, the Mexican equivalent of a baguette, only chubbier and with a chewier, pleasantly salty crust, and tears off a bite.

"We try to keep things the way Papá wanted them," says Rosina Valencia, co-owner of La Mascota Bakery, from her raised perch.

Papá, Ygnacio Salcedo, opened La Mascota Bakery on a sleepy little street in Boyle Heights in 1952. Seven years later, he moved the bakery to its current location, where it has stood for the last 50 years, a few doors down on the same street that today is the bustling thoroughfare of Whittier Boulevard.


"There were no bakeries nearby, so Papá thought he'd give it a try," Valencia says as another customer helps himself to a generous slice of golden-brown sour cream coffee cake sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds called quesadilla Salvadoreña. He pauses mid-bite, trying to place the flavor.

"It's Parmesan, not too much, not too much sugar -- the way they make it in El Salvador," Valencia explains as the customer polishes off the last bite.

Papá Salcedo grew up in Mascota, a small town in the western Mexican state of Jalisco, shortly after the Mexican Revolution. He apprenticed in a bakery as a young boy and by 17 owned his own panadería.

But his hometown career would be short-lived. In 1927, shortly after a series of Catholic counterrevolutions against the Mexican government escalated into the Cristero War, rebels stormed the bakery and killed several of Salcedo's bakers and customers. He fled to Los Angeles the following year.

Generations

"Cuatro cincuenta," Garcia says, looking up from the calculator covered in plastic wrap. An elderly woman hands over $4.50 and takes the sack of guava libros ("books" of strudel-like pastry filled with jam) and delicate sugar-dusted cuellos ("collars" of glazed flaky pastry) to one of the wobbly iron patio tables in the corner. She nibbles the cuello slowly, from the outside in.

"Many of our customers we've known for generations," says Rose Salcedo, Valencia's sister-in-law, who also works the front counter. When Papá died in 2002, ownership of the bakery passed to Valencia and her brothers Edward, Ygnacio Jr. (Rose's husband) and Victor.

Ygnacio Jr. and his brother Edward work the night shift making the bolillos and dozens of assorted pan dulce (Mexican sweet breads), pastries and cookies. Neomi Salcedo, the 39-year-old daughter of Ygnacio Jr. and Rose, is the resident birthday and quinceañera cake decorator; their son Ygnacio III is also a staff baker. Valencia and her younger brother Victor arrive in the morning, the air still sweet with fermenting yeast, to manage business operations and supervise the day staff.

"The tamales were Mamá's contribution," Valencia says, nodding toward an enclosed kitchen opposite the front door where three women are spooning spicy red chile and pork filling onto masa-lined corn husks.

Old standards

In 2000, the siblings purchased a small retail shop next to the bakery to house the larger tamale kitchen and expand the bakery's offerings beyond traditional Mexican pastries. Neomi, a culinary school graduate, added candied apples drenched in caramel sauce and vanilla-scented cupcakes crowned with buttercream to the menu; Ignacio III introduced the rustic fruit and chocolate swirled poundcakes. But the family still considers their father and grandfather's bolillos the bakery's calling card.

Before opening the bakery, Ygnacio Salcedo worked as a dishwasher at the Ambassador, the landmark Mid-Wilshire hotel that was recently demolished. When a French guest bemoaned the quality of the bread, Salcedo offered to make the Mexican rolls.

"They were always Papá's specialty," Valencia says, inspecting the stack of plastic-wrapped tortas, the traditional Mexican bolillo sandwiches stuffed with sliced meats, carne asada (grilled flank steak) or spicy chorizo sausage, waiting for the lunch crowd.

A couple of teenagers in low-slung jeans and white sneakers have dropped by for an after-school snack. "Those free?" asks one of the boys, nodding toward discounted bags of day-old pastries piled on a rolling metal cart. They lean against the glass counter, taking in the dozens of galletas (cookies), and finally settle on a half-dozen rainbow-colored pressed butter cookies shaped like wreaths and four-leaf clovers.

"The hardest part is seeing the neighborhood kids grow up so fast," Rose says.

"And finding time off to spend with the family," her sister-in-law adds from her perch. The bakery is open daily, save for a handful of holidays and two weeks in August.

"Papá always liked to say, 'The sun rises for everyone, you just have to work hard to make it happen," Valencia continues. "And you do have to get along with all the in-laws and out-laws to work here, that's for sure."

[email protected]

Inside the castle/winery

Connie, my nephew, Dr. Robert Egan, (Rachel's son), my sister Marina and her husband George, inside the castle/winery

Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Rick, I understand the reason is because of higher overhead due to the cost of outfitting and staffing the tasting rooms.

Rick Farris wrote:Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Frank:

Thanks for the interesting article on the Mascota Bakery. My dad, Gabriel, Sr. wa born in Mascota, Jalisco, Mexico and grew up at nearby Talpa. The mention brought memories of papa.

hap navarro

Rick Farris wrote:Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Don't get me wrong, Rick, I enjoy a good glass of wine, but my taste is beyond my means...

Dongee wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Frank:

Thanks for the interesting article on the Mascota Bakery. My dad, Gabriel, Sr. wa born in Mascota, Jalisco, Mexico and grew up at nearby Talpa. The mention brought memories of papa.

hap navarro

Hap, my friend, I'm glad that I brought you some memories, hope they were happy memories, but, I'm sure they were....

raylawpc wrote:Rick, I understand the reason is because of higher overhead due to the cost of outfitting and staffing the tasting rooms.

Thanks, Tom.

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Don't get me wrong, Rick, I enjoy a good glass of wine, but my taste is beyond my means...

I'll have good bottles of wine given to me, sometimes by people I work with. A thank you gift from a director or actor. Other than that, I usually just buy whats on sale. There are some deals on good wine, if you know what you want. Me, I prefer Italian beer, Birra Peroni or Moretti.

-Ricardo

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:Frank . . . I was surprised that buying a bottle of wine directly from a winery that I might visit, is actually more expensive than buying the very same bottle at a liquor store. I forget the reason, but that's the way it is. I rarely drink wine, so it's no big deal, like you I'm used to the cheap stuff.

-Rick Farris

Don't get me wrong, Rick, I enjoy a good glass of wine, but my taste is beyond my means...

I'll have good bottles of wine given to me, sometimes by people I work with. A thank you gift from a director or actor. Other than that, I usually just buy whats on sale. There are some deals on good wine, if you know what you want. Me, I prefer Italian beer, Birra Peroni or Moretti.

-Ricardo

I'm a wine drinker, (Red)

kikibalt wrote:La Mascota Bakery: a Boyle Heights tradition


Jenn Garbee / For The Times
TO GO: A customer is all smiles with a bag full of pastry from Boyle Heights' La Mascota.
The family-run store has been serving up bolillos, tamales and other Mexican classics for more than 50 years.

By Jenn Garbee

As the early Wednesday morning rush ends for champurrado, the cinnamon-scented hot Mexican chocolate thickened with masa harina, Rosina Valencia slips behind the semicircular enclave that conceals her desk. She readjusts her fuchsia snap-front work shirt and settles in to confirm wholesale bolillo orders from neighboring restaurants as an employee transfers dozens of the palm-sized loaves, still warm from the oven, to the display case.

"Two bolillos and just one croissant this time -- I'm on a diet -- one of those big chocolate chip cookies too," says 55-year-old Richard Vasquez, a La Moscata customer for as long as he can remember.

Lucy Garcia, a veteran employee of the Boyle Heights bakery, hands over a white paper sack already freckled with opaque butter stains from the pastries inside. Vasquez fishes around and pulls out a crusty bolillo, the Mexican equivalent of a baguette, only chubbier and with a chewier, pleasantly salty crust, and tears off a bite.

"We try to keep things the way Papá wanted them," says Rosina Valencia, co-owner of La Mascota Bakery, from her raised perch.

Papá, Ygnacio Salcedo, opened La Mascota Bakery on a sleepy little street in Boyle Heights in 1952. Seven years later, he moved the bakery to its current location, where it has stood for the last 50 years, a few doors down on the same street that today is the bustling thoroughfare of Whittier Boulevard.


"There were no bakeries nearby, so Papá thought he'd give it a try," Valencia says as another customer helps himself to a generous slice of golden-brown sour cream coffee cake sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds called quesadilla Salvadoreña. He pauses mid-bite, trying to place the flavor.

"It's Parmesan, not too much, not too much sugar -- the way they make it in El Salvador," Valencia explains as the customer polishes off the last bite.

Papá Salcedo grew up in Mascota, a small town in the western Mexican state of Jalisco, shortly after the Mexican Revolution. He apprenticed in a bakery as a young boy and by 17 owned his own panadería.

But his hometown career would be short-lived. In 1927, shortly after a series of Catholic counterrevolutions against the Mexican government escalated into the Cristero War, rebels stormed the bakery and killed several of Salcedo's bakers and customers. He fled to Los Angeles the following year.

Generations

"Cuatro cincuenta," Garcia says, looking up from the calculator covered in plastic wrap. An elderly woman hands over $4.50 and takes the sack of guava libros ("books" of strudel-like pastry filled with jam) and delicate sugar-dusted cuellos ("collars" of glazed flaky pastry) to one of the wobbly iron patio tables in the corner. She nibbles the cuello slowly, from the outside in.

"Many of our customers we've known for generations," says Rose Salcedo, Valencia's sister-in-law, who also works the front counter. When Papá died in 2002, ownership of the bakery passed to Valencia and her brothers Edward, Ygnacio Jr. (Rose's husband) and Victor.

Ygnacio Jr. and his brother Edward work the night shift making the bolillos and dozens of assorted pan dulce (Mexican sweet breads), pastries and cookies. Neomi Salcedo, the 39-year-old daughter of Ygnacio Jr. and Rose, is the resident birthday and quinceañera cake decorator; their son Ygnacio III is also a staff baker. Valencia and her younger brother Victor arrive in the morning, the air still sweet with fermenting yeast, to manage business operations and supervise the day staff.

"The tamales were Mamá's contribution," Valencia says, nodding toward an enclosed kitchen opposite the front door where three women are spooning spicy red chile and pork filling onto masa-lined corn husks.

Old standards

In 2000, the siblings purchased a small retail shop next to the bakery to house the larger tamale kitchen and expand the bakery's offerings beyond traditional Mexican pastries. Neomi, a culinary school graduate, added candied apples drenched in caramel sauce and vanilla-scented cupcakes crowned with buttercream to the menu; Ignacio III introduced the rustic fruit and chocolate swirled poundcakes. But the family still considers their father and grandfather's bolillos the bakery's calling card.

Before opening the bakery, Ygnacio Salcedo worked as a dishwasher at the Ambassador, the landmark Mid-Wilshire hotel that was recently demolished. When a French guest bemoaned the quality of the bread, Salcedo offered to make the Mexican rolls.

"They were always Papá's specialty," Valencia says, inspecting the stack of plastic-wrapped tortas, the traditional Mexican bolillo sandwiches stuffed with sliced meats, carne asada (grilled flank steak) or spicy chorizo sausage, waiting for the lunch crowd.

A couple of teenagers in low-slung jeans and white sneakers have dropped by for an after-school snack. "Those free?" asks one of the boys, nodding toward discounted bags of day-old pastries piled on a rolling metal cart. They lean against the glass counter, taking in the dozens of galletas (cookies), and finally settle on a half-dozen rainbow-colored pressed butter cookies shaped like wreaths and four-leaf clovers.

"The hardest part is seeing the neighborhood kids grow up so fast," Rose says.

"And finding time off to spend with the family," her sister-in-law adds from her perch. The bakery is open daily, save for a handful of holidays and two weeks in August.

"Papá always liked to say, 'The sun rises for everyone, you just have to work hard to make it happen," Valencia continues. "And you do have to get along with all the in-laws and out-laws to work here, that's for sure."

[email protected]

Frank, a few years ago, we filmed an episode of "The Shield" on the sidewalk directly in front of this bakery. That production often filmed in East L.A.

-Rick

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:La Mascota Bakery: a Boyle Heights tradition


Jenn Garbee / For The Times
TO GO: A customer is all smiles with a bag full of pastry from Boyle Heights' La Mascota.
The family-run store has been serving up bolillos, tamales and other Mexican classics for more than 50 years.

By Jenn Garbee

As the early Wednesday morning rush ends for champurrado, the cinnamon-scented hot Mexican chocolate thickened with masa harina, Rosina Valencia slips behind the semicircular enclave that conceals her desk. She readjusts her fuchsia snap-front work shirt and settles in to confirm wholesale bolillo orders from neighboring restaurants as an employee transfers dozens of the palm-sized loaves, still warm from the oven, to the display case.

"Two bolillos and just one croissant this time -- I'm on a diet -- one of those big chocolate chip cookies too," says 55-year-old Richard Vasquez, a La Moscata customer for as long as he can remember.

Lucy Garcia, a veteran employee of the Boyle Heights bakery, hands over a white paper sack already freckled with opaque butter stains from the pastries inside. Vasquez fishes around and pulls out a crusty bolillo, the Mexican equivalent of a baguette, only chubbier and with a chewier, pleasantly salty crust, and tears off a bite.

"We try to keep things the way Papá wanted them," says Rosina Valencia, co-owner of La Mascota Bakery, from her raised perch.

Papá, Ygnacio Salcedo, opened La Mascota Bakery on a sleepy little street in Boyle Heights in 1952. Seven years later, he moved the bakery to its current location, where it has stood for the last 50 years, a few doors down on the same street that today is the bustling thoroughfare of Whittier Boulevard.


"There were no bakeries nearby, so Papá thought he'd give it a try," Valencia says as another customer helps himself to a generous slice of golden-brown sour cream coffee cake sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds called quesadilla Salvadoreña. He pauses mid-bite, trying to place the flavor.

"It's Parmesan, not too much, not too much sugar -- the way they make it in El Salvador," Valencia explains as the customer polishes off the last bite.

Papá Salcedo grew up in Mascota, a small town in the western Mexican state of Jalisco, shortly after the Mexican Revolution. He apprenticed in a bakery as a young boy and by 17 owned his own panadería.

But his hometown career would be short-lived. In 1927, shortly after a series of Catholic counterrevolutions against the Mexican government escalated into the Cristero War, rebels stormed the bakery and killed several of Salcedo's bakers and customers. He fled to Los Angeles the following year.

Generations

"Cuatro cincuenta," Garcia says, looking up from the calculator covered in plastic wrap. An elderly woman hands over $4.50 and takes the sack of guava libros ("books" of strudel-like pastry filled with jam) and delicate sugar-dusted cuellos ("collars" of glazed flaky pastry) to one of the wobbly iron patio tables in the corner. She nibbles the cuello slowly, from the outside in.

"Many of our customers we've known for generations," says Rose Salcedo, Valencia's sister-in-law, who also works the front counter. When Papá died in 2002, ownership of the bakery passed to Valencia and her brothers Edward, Ygnacio Jr. (Rose's husband) and Victor.

Ygnacio Jr. and his brother Edward work the night shift making the bolillos and dozens of assorted pan dulce (Mexican sweet breads), pastries and cookies. Neomi Salcedo, the 39-year-old daughter of Ygnacio Jr. and Rose, is the resident birthday and quinceañera cake decorator; their son Ygnacio III is also a staff baker. Valencia and her younger brother Victor arrive in the morning, the air still sweet with fermenting yeast, to manage business operations and supervise the day staff.

"The tamales were Mamá's contribution," Valencia says, nodding toward an enclosed kitchen opposite the front door where three women are spooning spicy red chile and pork filling onto masa-lined corn husks.

Old standards

In 2000, the siblings purchased a small retail shop next to the bakery to house the larger tamale kitchen and expand the bakery's offerings beyond traditional Mexican pastries. Neomi, a culinary school graduate, added candied apples drenched in caramel sauce and vanilla-scented cupcakes crowned with buttercream to the menu; Ignacio III introduced the rustic fruit and chocolate swirled poundcakes. But the family still considers their father and grandfather's bolillos the bakery's calling card.

Before opening the bakery, Ygnacio Salcedo worked as a dishwasher at the Ambassador, the landmark Mid-Wilshire hotel that was recently demolished. When a French guest bemoaned the quality of the bread, Salcedo offered to make the Mexican rolls.

"They were always Papá's specialty," Valencia says, inspecting the stack of plastic-wrapped tortas, the traditional Mexican bolillo sandwiches stuffed with sliced meats, carne asada (grilled flank steak) or spicy chorizo sausage, waiting for the lunch crowd.

A couple of teenagers in low-slung jeans and white sneakers have dropped by for an after-school snack. "Those free?" asks one of the boys, nodding toward discounted bags of day-old pastries piled on a rolling metal cart. They lean against the glass counter, taking in the dozens of galletas (cookies), and finally settle on a half-dozen rainbow-colored pressed butter cookies shaped like wreaths and four-leaf clovers.

"The hardest part is seeing the neighborhood kids grow up so fast," Rose says.

"And finding time off to spend with the family," her sister-in-law adds from her perch. The bakery is open daily, save for a handful of holidays and two weeks in August.

"Papá always liked to say, 'The sun rises for everyone, you just have to work hard to make it happen," Valencia continues. "And you do have to get along with all the in-laws and out-laws to work here, that's for sure."

[email protected]

Frank, a few years ago, we filmed an episode of "The Shield" on the sidewalk directly in front of this bakery. That production often filmed in East L.A.

-Rick

Maravilla!

"The Three Caballeros"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yeWJRzfTeQg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSKAnuSTZ3I

kikibalt wrote:Floyd Mayweather is a Power Seller on Ebay
March 17, 2009 by Edgar Gonzalez


Many people don’t believe Floyd Mayweather is having financial problems because of back taxes. The truth is, he is and that is why he’s eager to return to the ring.

His need of money is why he is selling his 2008 Escalade limousine on Ebay for $125,000. With only 3,300 miles, that’s a pretty good deal. The MSRP is well over $215,000.

AS FAR AS UPGRADES GO… FLOYD MAYWEATHER HAD ROYAL COACH BUILDERS PUT ONLY THE BEST PARTS IN THIS LIMO Includes, OSTRICH LEATHER THROUGHOUT, A LIGHTED DANCE-FLOOR, 5 BAR’S, 3 TV’S INCLUDING A 42″ PLASMA, FULL CUSTOM STEREO SYSTEM THROUGH-OUT WITH KICKER AMPS AND SUBWOOFERS, REAR-VIEW CAMERA FOR THE DRIVER TO VIEW THE REAR CAB PASSENGERS, A FULL TELEPHONE COMMUNICATION SYSTEM, RUNNING BOARDS, A FLIP-UP SUNROOF IN THE BACK, 3 CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE HOLDERS WRAPPED IN OSTRICH LEATHER, LED LIGHTS ON THE OUTSIDE, CUSTOM MULTI-COLORED LIGHTS THROUGH-OUT THE CAB, SEATBELTS FOR ALL PASSENGERS, CHAMPAGNE GLASSES FOR EVERYONE, A REAR COUCH INCLUDING HEATED SEATS, REAR CLIMATE CONTROL, 20″ DUB WHEELS AND MUCH MORE !!


THIS LIMO HAS IT ALL!!! Seeing is believing so check it out. Click here.

They never learn, do they?
They have only one chance to make big money, and no chance of keeping it.
The bling of boxers is the most disgusting of all. 24Kt Ignorance.

-Rick Farris

My granddaughter Mariah is in the fourth grade. I'm not sure how it works in any other state but in California, it's California Mission time. Fourth graders are required to make a model of their chosen Mission, as well as do a book report.

Jeri and I took Mariah to the San Gabriel Mission today to take some photos and to help her get a feel for her project. Two of my kids, Meranda (Mariah's mom) and Andrew were baptized at the Mission. Meranda in 1978, Andrew in 1983. It gave her a sense of history. Which is what I wanted. You can see that it is still very beautiful.

Here's a few photos taken today:

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:Floyd Mayweather is a Power Seller on Ebay
March 17, 2009 by Edgar Gonzalez


Many people don’t believe Floyd Mayweather is having financial problems because of back taxes. The truth is, he is and that is why he’s eager to return to the ring.

His need of money is why he is selling his 2008 Escalade limousine on Ebay for $125,000. With only 3,300 miles, that’s a pretty good deal. The MSRP is well over $215,000.

AS FAR AS UPGRADES GO… FLOYD MAYWEATHER HAD ROYAL COACH BUILDERS PUT ONLY THE BEST PARTS IN THIS LIMO Includes, OSTRICH LEATHER THROUGHOUT, A LIGHTED DANCE-FLOOR, 5 BAR’S, 3 TV’S INCLUDING A 42″ PLASMA, FULL CUSTOM STEREO SYSTEM THROUGH-OUT WITH KICKER AMPS AND SUBWOOFERS, REAR-VIEW CAMERA FOR THE DRIVER TO VIEW THE REAR CAB PASSENGERS, A FULL TELEPHONE COMMUNICATION SYSTEM, RUNNING BOARDS, A FLIP-UP SUNROOF IN THE BACK, 3 CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE HOLDERS WRAPPED IN OSTRICH LEATHER, LED LIGHTS ON THE OUTSIDE, CUSTOM MULTI-COLORED LIGHTS THROUGH-OUT THE CAB, SEATBELTS FOR ALL PASSENGERS, CHAMPAGNE GLASSES FOR EVERYONE, A REAR COUCH INCLUDING HEATED SEATS, REAR CLIMATE CONTROL, 20″ DUB WHEELS AND MUCH MORE !!


THIS LIMO HAS IT ALL!!! Seeing is believing so check it out. Click here.

They never learn, do they?
They have only one chance to make big money, and no chance of keeping it.
The bling of boxers is the most disgusting of all. 24Kt Ignorance.

-Rick Farris

All the money in the world can't give a guy class.

This is the small room located inside the church where all the baptisms have occurred since the Mission was built. Both Meranda and Andrew were baptized here.

Randyman wrote:My granddaughter Mariah is in the fourth grade. I'm not sure how it works in any other state but in California, it's California Mission time. Fourth graders are required to make a model of their chosen Mission, as well as do a book report.

Jeri and I took Mariah to the San Gabriel Mission today to take some photos and to help her get a feel for her project. Two of my kids, Meranda (Mariah's mom) and Andrew were baptized at the Mission. Meranda in 1978, Andrew in 1983. It gave her a sense of history. Which is what I wanted. You can see that it is still very beautiful.

Here's a few photos taken today:

Great lookin' kid you have there, Randy, you guys have to be very proud of her, btw my granddaughter had to do the same project in school.

Randyman wrote:My granddaughter Mariah is in the fourth grade. I'm not sure how it works in any other state but in California, it's California Mission time. Fourth graders are required to make a model of their chosen Mission, as well as do a book report.

Jeri and I took Mariah to the San Gabriel Mission today to take some photos and to help her get a feel for her project. Two of my kids, Meranda (Mariah's mom) and Andrew were baptized at the Mission. Meranda in 1978, Andrew in 1983. It gave her a sense of history. Which is what I wanted. You can see that it is still very beautiful.

Here's a few photos taken today:

A DIFFERENT KIND OF LIGHTNING

The San Diego Chargers play their games at Qualcom Stadium in Mission Valley. They used to call the arena Jack Murphy Stadium or The Murph after the famous sports writer of The San Diego Union /Tribune Newspaper. Then they renamed it San Diego Stadium. Then Qualcom sunk money into the building and they put their name on it. However ,anyway you want to call it ,the stadium is an eyesore. A concrete monstrasity.

When it was first built back in the mid 60's it seated around 40,000. The right field bank was ice plant. It was the home of both the Chargers and the baseball Padres. Then with the advent of big games like the Super Bowl and the fan base growing in leaps and bounds corrollating with the surge of the areas' population,the stadium was added on to little by little. Another deck. Take out the ice plant to put in seats. Sky Boxes. I've got my artistic side.but that dinosaur is no Rembrandt.

Across the street from the stadium and down the road about a half mile is the Mission San Diego Alcala built by Father Serra. It was the first of the California Missions. Started back in the 17oo's when there were only Indians and deer roaming the premises.

The white washed adobe walls. The small church that still has a Sunday Mass. The simple living quarters . The gardens of roses and oleanders. Shade trees and benches.The cemetary by the side. Pastoral and simple. A calm. A silence that lets your mind wander into a meloncholy dream. A peacefull thought. Something on a higher field than a gridiron.

On Charger Sunday the cheapskates park their cars in front of the Mission. They walk the half mile to the game. Get shit faced.They're dressed like gold and blue demons with the grease paint.Scream their asses off so they can't utter a word the next day. Maybe get into a fight, and then fight the hang over on Monday. I guess they got their hundred dollars worth for the entrance . Not to mention the 9 dollars a beer. Many beers.

Me? Well I had my fling with the lightning bolts on those helmets. Now if I'm in those neck of the woods,I'll get struck by a different kind of lightning.One that comes from a higher place than the cheap seats in a football stadium.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQ6H68AcvQE

Vaya Con Dios
Les Paul and Mary Ford


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKfpB7KiueU

Vaya Con Dios

Gene Autry

Chuck Bodak honored by the boxing world

“A Tribute to Chuck Bodak” was held Monday night in honor of one of boxing’s biggest icons. Many flew in from around the U.S. to be present at the celebration of Bodak’s life which was held at the Marconi Automotive Museum and Foundation for Kids in Tustin, California. Bodak once lived in a converted boxcar adjacent to this museum.

Vasil “Chuck” Bodak died on February 6 from long-term effects first suffered from a 2007 stroke. The 92-year-old had worked with over 60 champions in the ring and was known world-wide as one of boxing’s best cutmen. He was also a boxer himself, a trainer, author, artist and even an actor in his later years. Chuck was many things to many people, but at Monday night’s celebration he was remembered as a mentor and friend to countless individuals whose lives he impacted along the way.

The event was hosted by Dick and Priscilla “Bo” Marconi and Ray and Vickki Marconi. It is fitting that the Marconi brothers, who first met Bodak when they were just humble teens in Gary, Indiana, grew up to be successful entrepreneurs and Chuck’s benefactors when the cutman became ill. The party was held at Dick’s museum where the Orange County-based businessman has amassed a $30 million collection of the world’s finest autos that he donated to his non-profit museum and organization.

And which automobile is placed right in the center of this state-of-the art building?

A Fiat 850 Spider that is covered in découpaged photos by Bodak himself. Spending four years “decorating” this car, this work of art is on permanent display for fans to enjoy. From the grill to the tail lights, the cutman painstakingly glued specially chosen photos of favorite fighters and vintage magazine over the painted car. Everywhere you looked, some boxer’s mug was smiling or glaring back at you from the hood to the hubcaps!

Known for his wacky ways, the Marconi brothers chuckled as they told the crowd how Chuck first came to fashion those eclectic headbands that he pasted around his skull. “While working with Jorge Paez, Chuck noticed “Maromero” would cut his hair in different designs. So Chuck put black tape around his bald head to copy Paez. Pretty soon he was doing it all the time and then added photos too!” The rest is history.

Bodak certainly was a contradiction. While traveling around the world with famous champions, he would be given a suite in the finest hotels but still chose to sleep on the floor. He would bring smiles to thousands, but wore false teeth of his own for years (which he misplaced many times). The senior citizen would sometimes wear the same clothes for days on end even though he could definitely afford a nicer wardrobe. And he would carefully wrap a boxer’s hands with extra care and detail, but often neglected his own personal care and hygiene.

And he was the ultimate packrat–saving so much boxing memorabilia that his old boxcar is literally covered from floor to ceiling with Bodak’s treasured mementos of boxing’s past. In fact, it would be an understatement to call him a packrat. He never threw anything away!
Fighters and guests in attendance had a field day touring Bodak’s boxcar, now a de facto museum. Excited boxers could be heard saying, “Here I am!” when they spotted an old photo of themselves that Bodak has pasted onto one of his collages as they laughed at their ’70s hairstyles and clothing in the pictures.

Completely covered with scraps from ticket stubs, bout cards, books and magazines, there are cornerman’s jackets, posters, statues, awards and more that take up every inch and every crevice in the boxcar–each nook and cranny in the oblong space is filled with boxing souvenirs. Well, make that 99% boxing memorabilia. Baseball, religion and the film industry managed to earn some space in his overflowing boxcar too. Game uniforms, painted crosses and photos with movie stars are also included among his collection. You could spend a whole day in there and uncover unique treasures–everywhere you looked something new would catch your eye.

A religious man, crosses adorn a lot of the boxcar’s shelves, and the cutman made many crucifixes that he liked to give as gifts. The attendees had fun comparing and showing off their “Bodak Bling,” the jewelry the cutman hand-crafted and presented to chosen recipients. From gaudy bracelets, huge watches, oversized rings and heavy pendants laden with crosses or photos of Bodak himself, the guests now wore these jewels made by the cutman with an extra dose of sentimental pride.

Everyone had their own personal stories of their adventures with the colorful cutman. Bodak didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink but he sure swore a lot! Frequently spewing F-bombs and jaw-dropping comments, Bodak never edited his speech. His signature move was “The Uno” which he learned from Jorge Paez; Bodak would often pose with that middle-finger salute.

Salty and crude, insulting and rude. That could describe Bodak as well.

But as everyone who knew him can attest to, beneath this crusty, hard-as-nails exterior was a heart of gold.
“Chuck would earn $15,000 for a fight,” Dick Marconi told the audience. “But he’d come home with just $200, or sometimes nothing. He’d give away the money. He would give it to the maids, to kids, to strangers. That was Chuck.”

And he loved kids, often working for free. “He sometimes never made a penny,” explained Ray Marconi. “Chuck just loved to work. Sometimes people took advantage of Chuck, sometimes he got screwed in deals. But he just loved boxing!”

Friends and fans of all ages came out to pay tribute to the legendary cutman. Henry Garcia and his family came all the way from Victorville to attend the function. Garcia was just appointed Head Boxing Coach for the Apple Valley PAL program and his 10-year-old son, Ryan, already has over 50 bouts on his record. Henry was inspired by Bodak and wanted his kids to be able to pay tribute to the legendary cutman. At the event, young Ryan also got to meet former WBC champs like Bobby Chacon and Paul Banke, who in turn were happy to meet the hopeful future Olympian. Banke gave Ryan some advice and told him about his own days as a 12-year-old amateur as he playfully put up his dukes with the youngster.

Plenty of family members were also in attendance, including Chuck’s sister, Mary, and nephew Bob Bodak from Indiana, who recounted hilarious anecdotes of times spent with “Uncle Chuck” when he was a kid.

And of course, all of Chuck’s boxing family came out in full support too–a testament to the legacy that he built through his career.
The World Boxing Council’s (WBC) Jill Diamond flew in from New York just to be at the tribute. The WBCares Chairperson read a personal letter from WBC President José Sulaimán as she presented a posthumous award to Bodak.

Dean Lohuis and a large group of boxing officials and inspectors from the California State Athletic Commission were also in attendance. And a throng of Board of Directors from the World Boxing Hall of Fame were present as well, including current President Mando Muñiz, Treasurer Josie Arrey-Mejia, Judge Gwen Adair, Secretary Yolanda Muñiz, Dr. Joe Noriega, Alex Cornejo, Steve Harpst, and Hassan Chitsaz. The Golden State Boxers’ Association was represented by Vice President Bill Dempsey Young.

Special invited guests included fighters Albert Davila, Mando Muñiz, Paul Banke, Bobby Chacon, Danny “Little Red” Lopez, John Montes, Paul Gonzales, Rodolfo “Gato” Gonzalez, Allen Syers, Katarina De La Cruz, Promoter Ken Thompson from Thompson Boxing Promotions, cutman Mack Kurihara and emcee Danny Valdivia.

While seen in the corners of many elite fighters, including Muhammad Ali, Oscar De La Hoya, Tommy Hearns, Julio Cesar Chavez and Evander Holyfield, Bodak also spent decades working in amateur boxing. He worked with the Catholic Youth Organization (CYO) in Chicago for years before moving to California. For the kids he coached in both Indiana and Illinois, Bodak will never be forgotten.

“I now live in Reno,” said David Zawacki, who came in from Nevada to attend the tribute. “I knew Chuck for 43 years, since 1964 when I boxed for him as a kid in the old Chicago CYO. I last visited with him over the past year after he had his stroke.” During Monday’s party, Zawacki reconnected with fighter Mando Muñiz–the two had fought together in the ’60s during their military careers.
Bodak made his presence known in both the pro and amateur worlds of the sweet science.

Joe Zanders, President of USA Boxing Southern California, was out of town during the tribute and regrets not being able to attend the service. A day after the event, he made sure to tell me, “Chuck was a good man and he will be dearly missed.”

Per his final wishes, Bodak had a direct burial at the Riverside National Cemetery but the Marconis still wanted to honor their friend in one final tribute. Dick’s flawless auto museum provided a first-class send off for the cutman. The brothers have been involved in boxing for decades and host an annual “Fight Night” extravaganza which raises a million dollars for at-risk youth. Dick, a former race car driver, lives up to his father’s motto, “Learn, earn and return!” and was happy to be able to open up his museum for this tribute to Bodak.

Milling around rare cars, including Oscar De La Hoya’s truck, Mario Andretti’s Indy winner, classic Ferraris, custom Lamborghinis, muscle cars, a fire engine and more, the attendees shared laughs with other guests as they reminisced and remembered Bodak during the evening’s salute.

While party-goers admired rows and rows of gleaming, priceless automobiles, they also made their way to Bodak’s gritty old boxcar, marveling at the trail of history the cutman left behind. The boxcar is just another fitting contradiction that defined Chuck Bodak. The beautiful spotless museum houses myriad of million-dollar sports cars. But the dusty, messy, cluttered, scrap-booked filled boxcar Bodak created somehow blends in just fine, adding even more value to the museum’s already intriguing and priceless collection.

A character. An icon. One-of-a-kind. Unique. A mentor. A friend. All descriptions that were repeated throughout the night while friends and family spoke of the cutman. As guests noshed on appetizers and desserts, a film was shown of the eccentric and generous cutman in all his glory. The end frame showed Chuck waving goodbye to the camera– a perfect ending to the long life he led.

Chuck Bodak may have permanently left the fight game but boxing will never forget his contributions to the sport.

They bid adieu to a sexy old showgirl


Gary Friedman / Los Angeles Times
Longtime Las Vegas show "Les Folies Bergere" will close just months shy of its 50th year.

'Les Folies Bergere' is folding, another Vegas casualty. Its highs and lows are recalled by 3 who helped it glitter.

By Ashley Powers

Reporting from Las Vegas -- It outlasted Elvis, the Rat Pack, the mob, the Atomic Age and the Stardust, Dunes and Sands casinos. It helped cement the showgirl as Sin City ambassador -- the mayor often appears with one on each arm -- and as pop culture shorthand for glittery, sexy Las Vegas.

But months shy of its 50th year, "Les Folies Bergere" will soon close, a victim of slumping revenue and changing tastes.

Les Folies Bergere...When it opened on Christmas Eve 1959, the Tropicana's topless revue embodied all that was naughty and daring in Vegas. But, in time, Vegas became much racier than the "Folies." Cirque du Soleil performers disrobe in "Zumanity." In the show "Bite," vampires bare fangs and breasts. Even some female tourists sunbathe topless at hotel pools.

In a way, the history of "Folies" mirrors that of Vegas: a long stretch of success, then hard times. Its story is told through an aging chorine who remembers opening night, through a director who struggled to keep the cash-strapped production afloat, and through a showgirl who will strut in its final plumed and sequined performance, on March 28.

Their time in "Folies" ties them to a bygone Vegas that brought glamour to the masses. These days, the show's demise mostly merits a shrug in this recession-battered town -- there are too many businesses closing, too many foreclosures and too much grief.

The 1950s dawned with Clark County as an outpost with fewer than 50,000 souls and a handful of Western-themed gambling halls, though the backwater's ambition was as immense as the Mojave Desert.

Its first topless production, "Minsky's Follies," opened in 1957 at the Dunes and was advertised in Los Angeles as "riotous" and "eye-popping." The true forerunner to modern showgirl productions, "Lido de Paris," arrived a year later at the Stardust.

Meanwhile, in El Paso, a beauty queen named Virginia James spotted a newspaper ad: The Sands was hiring dancers for its Copa Room. "The owner wanted to see a whole line of Texas girls because Texas is known for beautiful girls with beautiful teeth," she recalls.

James aced the audition and moved to Vegas, where she still lives. She is 77 and maintains a wavy white-blond coiffure, a dancer's posture and a trim figure clad in black leggings and calf-high boots.

"I met everybody famous in the world," she says. Nat King Cole. Dean Martin. Lena Horne. She attended parties, she says, on Frank Sinatra's arm. "I met Elvis later. I went out with him. I didn't sleep with him, but he kissed me and my heart stopped."

James tried Hollywood but found it distasteful and returned to Vegas. The Tropicana had opened in 1957, and James danced in its short-lived Jayne Mansfield show.

"Then Mansfield was out, the marquee was blank and all the dancers got pink slips -- except me," she says. Entertainment director Lou Walters wanted her in "Folies," his $250,000 show imported from Paris.

"He said, 'What do you think about nude?' And I said, 'I don't.' "

He put her in charge of dancers who didn't disrobe in the show. "Three-quarters of them were from Paris and didn't speak a word of English. But I said I was from Texas and they knew Texas, so they called me Tex," James recalls.

Opening night, she remembers, somehow felt bigger than other premieres: "It wasn't the first topless show, but it was the first 'Folies Bergere.' "

She saved the printed program -- hers is the fourth name listed in the Ballet de Paris -- and cherished her two years with the show: The jet set audience shimmering in diamonds and mink. Whirlwind costume changes. The topless beauties, who were called mannequins because, mainly, they stood motionless and smiled.

Though interspersed over the years with jugglers, magicians and contortionists, the showgirls were always the headliners. Eventually, the onetime mannequins also were included in the dance routines. Sammy Davis Jr., Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor came to admire them, and middle-class Americans came to gawk at the Hollywood stars. They all sipped martinis and scotch.

Since the '90s, when Vegas flirted with becoming family friendly, the showgirls' breasts have been covered at some performances so children can attend. The audience fills maybe half the 850 seats and wears fanny packs and Harley Davidson T-shirts. Many people bring their own yard-long margarita cups.

In the 1960s, showgirls became civic icons. They presided over golf course openings and smiled on magazine covers. For a two-drink minimum, they could be ogled in casinos all over town.

"This was a place where you could find things that were nowhere else," says Su Kim Chung, an archivist at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. "And where else could you find a 6-foot-tall woman with feathers sprouting off her back and fishnet stockings and a string bikini?"

Into that world stepped Jerry Jackson, who in 1966 helped Hermes Pan, Fred Astaire's choreographer, stage a new edition of "Folies." When he overhauled the show in 1975, Jackson bestowed it with the first of several themes -- the French music hall -- and an ornate setting: tap dancers shuffling on red pianos, showgirls in $3,000 beaded gowns and a 1930s Rolls Royce purring onto the stage.

Jackson, 73, lives near West Hollywood. His tone is wistful -- he played nearly every behind-the-scenes role in "Folies," from choreographer to director. In one scene, showgirls lay down on a rotating disc, their fluttering pink fans reflected for the audience in a giant mirror. He had pinned down the movements on his Tropicana bed, staring at the mirror on the ceiling.

In an arrangement that differs from most Strip productions, the Tropicana owns "Folies" and pays cast salaries and other costs. In the '90s, Jackson says, the casino stopped showering the show with money.

The Tropicana has endured ownership troubles from the get-go. Its first executives had ties to mob boss Frank Costello, according to John L. Smith's book "Sharks in the Desert," and subsequent mob associates ensured the casino "underperformed like a poodle in a vaudeville dog act who forgot why he was on stage." But the property's later corporate owners couldn't boost profits either.

Jackson struggled with the diminished budget. The multimillion-dollar Cirque shows, with their casts of acrobats, redefined exotic in Vegas. "Jubilee!," the Strip's only other showgirl spectacular, sinks the Titanic every night.

By contrast, the "Folies" gold staircase has been in use since 1975. When Jackson revised it again in 1997, he created a striptease number using only black lights and $500 costumes. Critics noticed.

"Folies," the Las Vegas Review-Journal said recently, "has so long been denied funding that it tumbled from the top tier of Las Vegas attractions years ago and now hovers in an odd region."

Casino operator Tropicana Entertainment LLC filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection in May. In December, Jackson went to a meeting at the Tropicana and found it a poorly aged debutante.

Its gold-dusted ceiling resembles that of a church, only the angels are bare-breasted. The cocktail waitresses wear muted uniforms that resemble linens. Though senior citizens feed dollar slots, the high-limit machines mostly are empty.

Managers told Jackson the casino had no cash to revamp "Folies" for its golden anniversary. The following month, its closing was announced. He will stay with the show to the end, but shelved dreams of a $20-million refurbishing. "I was going to do an infinity staircase," he says, "that went clear up to the stars."

Svetlana Failla stares into a makeup mirror. For a decade, she has lined her eyes like Cleopatra and glued on false lashes that graze her cheek when she winks. Ten times a week, she dons a rhinestone-studded bra and thong for the opening number's signature "butt shot," in which a spotlight briefly highlights her backside.

Tonight, she struggles to hold back tears. "I want two more years of sparkle and glitter," she says.

Failla started dancing at age 5, though as a young ballroom dancer in Moscow, she never imagined life as a showgirl. Her dad, who died when she was a girl, was a watchmaker; her mother toiled in the garment industry. She never saw her dance in Vegas.

"She would have never approved of me doing topless," Failla says. "And I'd probably be on stage dancing and she'd come running after me with a towel."

Failla laughs, and it sounds like wind chimes.

She had traveled the world for two years as a backup dancer for a Russian pop star when, in 1991, she visited her then-boyfriend, who was in a circus act at the Stardust. She spoke German, Italian and Russian but no English. She had him ask if she could rehearse with the Stardust dancers to stay in shape.

Soon, the green-eyed, 5-foot-10 Barbie look-alike was offered a role. She broke her touring contract. In 1999, she joined the "Folies."

"When I go on stage, I disappear," Failla says, her hands flying and her words lightly accented. "I always pick someone in the audience and perform for them."

Though performing still inspires her, she's already preparing for her next act. She's been attending fashion design school and dreams of selling couture gowns. But still she hopes someone will demand a "Folies" encore.

A voice echoes from another room: "Check. Check." Showtime nears. Dancers file in wearing T-shirts and cotton pants and passing rows of sparkling capes. "Thirty minutes," the voice says.

Failla paints her face and dons a red feather headdress. When the show starts, she strides onto the stage, flashing a coquettish smile. She evokes an old kind of glamour, the kind that was naughty and cheeky when Las Vegas was full of optimism and, in a way, a bit more innocent.

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A few tax jokes . . .

Mr. Geithner, the boyishly handsome brainiac, has a sort of otherworldly intensity, as if he's a space alien observing our species at close range and thinking to himself, ''Pets, or meat?'' New York Times 2-09-09

The first income tax law of the American century was only fourteen pages long, but it contained enough exceptions and exemptions, loopholes and inconsistencies to keep top notch accountants capably employed. (Shelley L. Davis)

I thought you might want to know. You were in the top 25% of taxpayers in 2005 if your taxable income exceeded $61,055. Millions of Americans have no idea what fat cats they are. Scott Burns msn.com , 5-7-08

We often wonder if automation will ever replace the taxpayer.

The fourth of July, 1776 - that's when we declared our freedom from unfair British taxation. Then, in 1777, we started our own system of unfair taxation.

Nothing makes a person more modest about their income than to fill out a tax form.

Simplicity in modern taxation is a problem of basic architectural design. Present legislation is insufferably complicated and nearly unintelligible. If it is not simplified, half of the population may have to become tax lawyers and tax accountants. `--Henry C. Simons

A Few Jokes on the Economy . . .

P/E RATIO – The percentage of investors wetting their pants as the market keeps crashing

BROKER – What my broker has made me

The United States has developed a new weapon that destroys people but it leaves buildings standing. It's called the stock market.

Q. What did the terrorist that hijacked a plane full of AIG executives do? A. He threatened to release one every hour if his demands were not met.

“This past Saturday, Ruthie Madoff went to a synagogue in New York. On the way out, a reporter asked her how she things were going after Bernie's incarceration. Ruthie said with God’s help we’ll get through it. To which the Devil said, ‘Hey, I thought we had a deal.’”

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