Mountain Views News, Combined Edition Saturday, September 5, 2020

MVNews this week:  Page 3


Mountain Views-News Saturday, September 5, 2020 



 One of the most popular productions ever in Sierra Madre Playhouse’s long history has been 
The Joy Luck Club, which was a box-office smash for us one year ago. Now, for the first time 
ever, we’re having a virtual cast reunion, and you’re invited. Catch up with members of our talented 
cast, and ask them questions about the creation of this beloved hit production.

 This event takes place via Zoom on your computer, tablet or smartphone. It’s free, but space 
is limited, so please reserve early. The virtual cast reunion will happen on Sat-urday, September 
12, 2020 at 3:30 p.m. PDT.

 Reservations can be made at: :

 Although this event is free, these are challenging times for theatres and non-profit arts organizations, 
so donations are accepted and appreciated. If you wish to donate, you can do so at:


by Deanne Davis

This story is the last printable one of the stories sent 
to me by my Dad. These tales of California in the early 
days of our father’s and his father’s lives are one of the 
best things our Dad left my sister and me and I am so 
happy to have shared them with you. Like I said last 
week, these stories would turn up in the mail every 
now and then and I, fecklessly, just set them in a pile. 
But I kept them! I kept them all.

“The Horses & The End of The Owl”

 “Some twenty miles from Mexicali, and three 
miles from Holtville was the Weed Ranch, the one we 
lived on. When I was seven, in the spring of 1928, 
three beautiful, well-groomed, obviously pampered 
horses were found grazing in our pasture. My father 
figured that they belonged to none other than the 
third gangster owner of The Owl, the one who raised 
horses, so down he sat and wrote the man a letter, spelling out the details.

 Three days later, a big olive-colored touring car with black fenders and a white canvas top, 
(to my best recollection, it was a Marmon) drove down our long eucalyptus-lined driveway and 
parked in front of the house. Four well-dressed men, all smoking cigars, with snap-brim fedoras 
got out. My mother wanted nothing to do with them so she locked the front door and sent me out 
the back to find my father, who was down by the haystack. One of the men was, indeed, the racehorse 
raising, third Owl owner. The other three were his bodyguards. My mother stayed in the 
house and the men most definitely were not invited in. Instead, they sat on some benches in the 
oval garden in front of our house and talked with my father. I interrupted only once to show them 
my Angora guinea pig. One of the bodyguards told me that if I held him up by his tail his eyes 
would fall out. When I responded that I had heard that before, he reached up to my ear, pulled out 
a nickel and gave it to me. The man who did most of the talking said that he had already seen the 
horses in the pasture and that they were, indeed, his. Furthermore, that if my father would bring 
them back to his ranch south of Mexicali, he would show his appreciation. Hands were shaken, 
each helped himself to a drink of artesian water from a barrel nearby, climbed back into the long 
automobile and drove away.

 Early next morning, Solon (my father’s dad) saddled and bridled our biggest saddle horse, 
General Sheridan; ran down, cornered and roped each of the racehorses then, while my mother, 
sister and I watched from the bank of a high ditch, he cantered down the old Calexico road on his 
way to Mexicali, all three racehorses in tow. Had my brother not been in high school that day, he 
would probably have gone with my father on another horse to help him out. My father carried a 
fair-sized whip to discourage any independence on the part of the high-spirited, skittish animals 
and I noticed, too, that he had his old silver-plated, pearl-handled six-shooter holstered on his 
belt, a weapon he almost never carried. I must admit that I was proud of that old white-haired 
Westerner as we watched him ride off.

 It was well past midnight when we heard General Sheridan’s hooves come pounding down 
the drive, lathered up from a long hard trip. My mother got up, lit a lantern and waited outside 
while Dad took off the General’s bridle and saddle and sent the old boy out for a drink and a 
pitchfork of alfalfa hay. I was up by then as were my brother, Harold, and my sister, Peggy, but 
we waited in the kitchen. My father came through the screen door, smiling, then showed us his 
reward, two twenty-dollar gold pieces. One he gave to my mother, and the other to my brother, 
who was instructed to give me half of it. Peggy got a Mexican doll and a bag full of beads strung 
in long loops.

 Eventually, my brother visited the bank and exchanged the twenty-dollar gold piece for 
two ten-dollar gold pieces, one of which he gave to me. What happened to the twenty my mother 
had been given, I shall never know. With his, Harold bought a brass trumpet which, years later, 
I inherited and learned to play after a fashion. I was advised by all to put my gold piece in a safe 
place and keep it there. That way, when I saw something I really wanted to buy, I would have the 
money. Instead, I carried it around in the pocket of my overalls, taking it out now and then to 
examine it, or show it to anyone who would have a look. After a couple of weeks I lost it, much to 
everyone’s utter disgust.

 As for The Owl, it was, for a time, a continuous uproarious happening. In a mighty conflagration 
around 1930, it burned to the ground, never to be rebuilt, as the Great Depression was 
just beginning and, soon after, Mexico passed a law forbidding public gambling.

 I doubt if there is much to be read about the old Owl. After all, the patrons and owners 
weren’t exactly the types to leave monographs or memoirs, but it was there, all right, with that big 
picture of an owl outlined in light bulbs that could be seen for many miles on any night. Somehow, 
I felt a part of it by once having had some of its ill-gotten gains in my pocket, and it helped 
me gain status by talking about the place with other kids when my mother finally got around to 
sending me to school.”

 In a letter to me not long after Dad went to live in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico, around 1984, he 
talked of his love for Mexico:

 “My whole life has been connected in one way or another with Mexico. My father spent 
many years there and I was born in Holtville, California, a small town about twenty miles from 
the border. During my adult life I visited Mexico many times, and lived there three times, always 
in the high Lake Chapala area of Jalisco. Why I love Mexico, I can’t tell you, but now that I am old, 
I shall remain here to enjoy what is left of my life. Although there are many differences between 
our cultures, I feel completely at home and will stay here the rest of my days.”

 And he did. He passed away May 14, 2013 at the age of 92 and his ashes have been scattered 
over Lake Chapala. He left us wonderful memories of good times with him, lunching at 
Posada Ajijic overlooking the lake, or just sitting with him in his garden, where flowers of every 
tropical hue bloomed, a drawing was in process on his drafting table, Koi flourished among water 
lilies in his fishpond and a glass of something nice was always available. He was happy there.

My book page: Deanne Davis

My Dad’s Adventures are in:

“A Treasure Map, A Drunken Owl, and 47 Rattlers in a Bag”

You can follow me on Twitter:

Nancy Ma (l.), Sharline Lu, Gloria Tsai, Grace Shen, April Lam, Lee Chen, Debbie Fan, Peggy Lu in 
the 2019 production of "The Joy Luck Club." Photo credit: Gina Long.]


August 23, to August 29, 2020 

During this period the Sierra Madre Police Department 

responded to 258 calls for service.

Theft from a Vehicle On 8/25/20 at 4:20PM a gardener working in the 1900 block of N. Santa 
Anita Ave. had personal items stolen from the cab of his truck while he worked in the backyard 
of the residence. NOTE: There has been a rash of items stolen from trucks lately, particularly the 
tools and personal items from gardeners working in Sierra Madre and in the City of Arcadia. 
You can help gardeners as they work at your homes by keeping an eye on their vehicles whenever 
you are able to. Case to Detectives

Missing Person Located Officers conducted a traffic stop in the 00 block of E. Sierra Madre Blvd. 
on 8/27/20 at 2:17AM. The driver stated that she was lost. A check of her driver’s license showed 
that she was an at risk missing person from a nearby city. The LA County Sheriff’s Department 
was notified that the driver had been located in Sierra Madre. The driver was returned to her 
home by our officer.

Graffiti A resident reported on 8/28/20 that unknown person(s) had painted the sidewalk in the 
100 block of N. Hermosa Ave. using red spray paint. Public works was notified for removal of 
the paint. Case to Detectives

TABLE FOR TWO by Peter Dills


If you are just waking up, then this recipe is for you! I was hoping 
to get few restaurant reviews in, but I think we are still a few 
months away!!

I’m giving away a $100 gift card to the BOA Steakhouse this Sunday 
morning on my radio show at 8AM, thats FM 105.

So, here’s the background on the Bloody Mary.

The Fernand Petiot Story

It was back in the 1920s when Fernand Petiot, an American bartender 
at Harry's New York Bar in Paris, mixed up equal parts 
of tomato juice and vodka. He had no idea that his concoction 
would become world famous when he agreed with the guy in the 
bar who suggested he call the drink "Bloody Mary." The patron 
said it reminded him of the Bucket of Blood Club in Chicago, and a girl he knew there named 

 In 1934, Petiot moved to the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis Hotel in New York City, and brought 
the recipe with him. The hotel managers tried to change the name to Red Snapper, but it didn't 

 Sophisticated New Yorkers weren't too impressed at first. They said the drink tasted a bit bland, 
and they asked Petiot to spice it up. He added black pepper, cayenne pepper, Worcestershire 
sauce, lemon and--for those who wanted more spirit--a generous splash of TABASCO pepper 
sauce. And that's how an American classic was born.

In 1976, McIlhenny Company introduced TABASCO Bloody Mary Mix. It wasn't the first mix 
on grocery store shelves, but it was one true to Petiot's original. A spicier version was added a 
few years later.

Quick and easy recipe using Beluga Vodka

Beluga Noble Vodka — 2 shots

•Celery stalk

•Lemon juice — 1 part

•Grapefruit juice 2 parts

•Tomato juice — 3 parts

•Green and black olives, cherry tomato, Mash a
celery stalk in a shaker. Squeeze the juice out of 
1/2 lemon and 1/2

grapefruit. Add celery salt and freshly ground pepper. Pour 2 shots of Beluga. Add ice. Pour 4 oz 
of a thick tomato juice. Prepare the

cocktail by pouring it several times from one shaker part into the other. Pour the

cocktail into a highball glass on ice.

Listen in this Sunday Morning for my Food Report on Go Country 105 FM

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