Interesting Elections: Part 3 - Signal Hill's Checkered Past

 

            In October 1959, Long Beach Independent reporter Bob Wells described how the 4500 residents of Signal Hill liked their politics loud, partisan and frequent. At the drop of a hat, it would take up recall petitions and remove what it considers to be the “boil on the body politic.” The recall weapon was first brought into use in 1926, a short time after the city was established in 1923. The populace swept from office a council it blamed for a street paving job it felt was not up to standards. Recalls followed in 1935, 1948, 1953, 1958 and 1959.

            On April 7, 1959, Signal Hill traded in its 17-man police force for officers almost outnumbered by the population of the “island” city. The change gave the 4000 residents of the city the full law-enforcement services of the 3800 member Sheriff’s Department. Along with the 20 or so men who worked out of the Signal Hill substation (Signal Hill police officers would be absorbed into the Sheriff’s department) , the city would be covered by narcotics, vice and other special details from other sheriff’s offices. Under the contract, the city paid $113,000 ($1 million today) a year for services. The council felt that for the $113,000 they would be getting more protection than under the $168,000 ($1.5 million) police budget. The change, the council stated, was the end result of months of morale-shattering unrest during which officers were fired, rehired and then fired again. On June 24, 1959, county fire and ambulance service for Signal Hill also went into effect.

            Cities contracting out for services was a relatively new thing at the time.  Citizens believed they should have been consulted on what would in later years become a basic municipal action. However, other issues were such as a $90,000 ($800,000 today) police building – just completed in 1959 – sitting virtually unused because the county sheriff’s office worked through a Lakewood station, and five police cars and a city fire ambulance being placed “in storage” were also decisive factors in the recall. In October 1959 75% of the city’s registered voters turned out to give the recall a 2.5 to 1 majority.  Recalled were four of the five city council members – Harold V. Clark, Frank B. Vaughn, Emil B. Haughty and Benjamin A. Moyle (who also served as mayor).  Only Councilwoman Nellie Combellack, who had not voted for the contract move, remained in office.  The contract for police and fire service with Los Angeles County ended July 1, 1960.

            A reader told me an interesting story about moving into Nellie Combellack’s former home at Orange and 33^rd Street in the summer of 1959. Shortly after the Smith’s moved in and had gone to bed the family heard two loud blasts. Not wanting to disturb his wife, who had just returned from the hospital, Mr. Smith got up without turning on a light, looked around and didn’t find anything wrong. However, the next morning the Smiths’ found lots of glass, shredded drapes, the back of a new chair shredded with stuffing covering the floor, holes in the living room and kitchen windows and the hallway door leading to bedrooms full of shotgun holes. The debris ended just a foot from where the recently hospitalized Mrs. Smith was sleeping.

            Sheriff's  officers were called and seemed VERY surprised that the house did not belong to Mrs. Combellack. They started questioning family members as to who they knew who could have done it. They asked the Smith daughter if she had a jealous boyfriend, etc. In between questions, they kept asking about Mrs. Combellack. Mr. Smith said after they left he thought the sheriff's did it. His parting words to them, his daughter recalled, were “make sure you tell people Mrs. Combellack doesn’t live here anymore.” When the sheriff's were contacted asking about the status of the investigation the Smith’s got the feeling no one wanted to talk about it. No leads. However, the family did feel fortunate that the door onto the hallway and Mr. & Mrs. Smith’s bedroom door was closed, or someone could have been seriously injured or killed. The Smith daughter, who told me this story, said the family would talk about it over the years and remark that not everyone got their house shot gunned in the wee hours of the night…especially in 1959.

            Nothing was reported in the press about the incident and no suspect was ever found.

                                                                      -----

Kid Mexico

            Drama surrounded many Signal Hill elections such as the one in April 1952, which had Bingo King Kid Mexico (Tod Faulkner) afraid that his gambling interests would come to an end. On election day Faulkner said he needed guys with cars to drive certain Signal Hill citizens to the polls.  An undercover reporter for the Long Beach Independent signed up to be a driver.

            There was no mention then of what drivers were to be paid, but word had circulated beforehand that they would get $15 ($146) each – plus a big fat $30 ($292) bonus if the gambler’s slate won. Faulkner’s campaign manager, Cliff Waters told drivers he had a list of 1200 registered voters whom they believed would vote the “right” ticket. Waters then explained who the “right” candidates were – Mayor Lloyd J. Tomlin, Loring R. Jones and James F. Walsh. Drivers went out at 7 a.m., knocking on doors, ringing bells, and making pitches for Faulkner’s slate of candidates. Each driver was given a pack of cards, more or less sample ballots, on which crosses had been marked opposite the names of Tomlin, Jones and Walsh. Drivers were told to hand a card to each passenger to guide him or her in choosing the “right” candidate.

            The undercover reporter was surprised to find most people already up, and they weren’t surprised to see someone at their door so early. Perhaps they had been told beforehand that drivers would be around. However no one, except one sickly lady, accepted the reporter’s invitation to ride to the polls. This wasn’t so hard to take when one realized that the polling place was only two blocks away from the street were the reporter had been assigned. Despite Faulkner’s actions only Mayor Lloyd Tomlin, who had been in office since December 1946, was reelected.  In July 1953, Faulkner pleaded guilty to election fraud charges which involved his trying to rig registrations in the November 1952 Signal Hill election.  An anti-gambling ordinance passed by a vote of 1358 to 660. But Faulkner was not one to give up.

            Faulkner found religion. He claimed that in April 1958, God and Faulkner’s dead wife Edna appeared to him, telling him to go out and preach the word of God. One person he found “ungodly” was Signal Hill City Administrator-Engineer Charles Trygg. In 1962, Faulkner, admitted he helped finance a four-page smear sheet against Trygg distributed in Signal Hill just before the April 10 municipal election. The paper referred to the city administrator as “Big Wig Trygg,” “Boss Trygg” and “Mr. Big Trygg” and cast innuendo on Trygg’s competence, although no specific charges were made.  Faulkner was successful. A new city council asked for Trygg’s resignation. Trygg resigned, though the charges brought against him were not revealed.

  

          A persistent  Faulkner decided to run for council himself in 1964. His platform included: effective zoning to provide for high-rise developments without sacrificing single-family residential areas; working to create a modern “downtown” area with top-quality retailers; creating a municipal auditorium for conventions and other meetings; attracting  modern businesses in order to keep the tax rate low and get Signal Hill moving ahead. He also pledged to keep away politics and gambling. Faulkner ended up running sixth among nine candidates.

(For more about Faulkner see my 2016 blog “Kid Mexico.”)

                                                                            -----

             In the April 1968 Signal Hill election another “interesting” campaign began when City Council candidate George Papadakis offered to pay 5 cents for each election poster of Floyd Jones which was removed from any power pole, school or public property.  It seemed zealous supporters of Jones had stuck campaign posters on illegal places such as power poles, schools or other public property. But Jones posters had also appeared on private property and youngsters who wanted to collect a nickel for every poster they could find snapped up all the Jones posters all over town, including ones Jones had tacked to his own home and garage. In retaliation, the Jones contingent planned to put 6000 Jones posters throughout Signal Hill and invite the kids to tear them down and redeem them from Papadakis at 5 cents apiece. The thing was 100 or 200 posters would be attached to a single nail, so everybody would get a shot at the bounty money.

Papadakas

            George E. Papadakis, a Torrance school teacher, Floyd Jones and Gertrude Beebe were running to fill the vacancy of Morris L. Shoup, who decided not to run for reelection.  Floyd and Beebe both lived in the 7-year-old Flintstone Apartments at 2165 E. 21^st Street, known for its two-story high mosaic dinosaur with red mazda eyes, which adorned the front of the apartments (see my Flintstone Apartments article). Papadakis was their neighbor who owned a small apartment house outflanked by the Flintstone.

            Earlier I wrote about Papadakis’ fight with Flintstone owner Miles Shook over partying at the apartment building and how, as a city planning commissioner, he was able to convince the city council to pass a city-wide anti-noise ordinance in 1962.  Ironically, he was now running against two residents of the Flintstone.        

            Both Jones and Beebe agreed that Signal Hill needed to be straightened out. Here’s where the gut fighting and nit picking came in: Floyd Jones said he wanted to know why the curbs in front of the apartment house owned by the mayor were not painted, allowing parking, when in front of other apartment houses they were painted red.  Jones called the Signal Hill Police Department “worse than a Mack Sennett comedy,” and he deplored the nepotism in the department, epitomized by the fact that the police chief, Richard Denham, was the mayor’s son.

            A native of Wheatland, Wyoming, Mrs. Beebe taught elementary school in that state for six years after graduation from the University of Wyoming before moving to Signal Hill in 1935. She served as city treasurer from 1942 to 1966.  Mrs. Beebe, held the distinction (and possibly the state record) of being reelected as city treasurer and as city clerk, all on the same ballot in 1966. She said this about the City Council and the Police Department: “The city councilmen are no more than puppets for the city administrative officer (Fred Baxter) and the police operate in pathetic fashion. Many of our patrolmen are the finest law enforcement officers one could find, but politics prevents them from doing their duty as they see fit.” (Press Telegram, 3/15/1968)  She also mentioned remedying the city hiring policy, which barred blacks from being employed by the city.         

            Gertrude Beebe won a seat on the council and continued to serve as councilwoman until March 1976 and as mayor from March 1974-March 1975. Papadakis bounced back in April 1970, continuing an on and off career as council person until March 1984, also serving as Mayor from April 1973-March 1974 and from March 1981-July 1981. Floyd Jones also made another run for a council seat in 1970, charging misuse of city funds “so the politicos can make a killing in real estate.” He also favored a break up of “family control of Signal Hill.” He lost.

            Another candidate who won in the 1968 election was Sandra L. Miller who served on the council until April 1972. More about her and her fight against the political bosses of the city in my final chapter of Signal Hill's Checkered Past.

 

Sources:

“Hill elects councilmen Tuesday.” Independent Press Telegram, 12 April 1964.

 “Kid Mexico handed $500 fine, no jail in vote fraud.” Long Beach Independent, 7 August, 1953.

 “The ‘Kid’ shows ‘em how to vote up on the hill.” Long Beach Independent, 9 April 1952.

 Robeson, George. “Politics gets sticky up on Signal Hill.” Independent Press Telegram, 15 March 1968.

 Robeson, George. “Signal Hill is the West’s Tammany Hall.” Press Telegram, 5 April 1968.

Wells, Bob. “Signal Hill recalls 4 council members.” Long Beach Independent, 28 October 1959.

 Williams, Sherm. “Signal Hill vote 3-to-2 against keeping Trygg.” Long Beach Independent, 20 June, 1962.

 Whearley, Bob. “Signal Hill trades in its police force.” Press Telegram, 7 April 1959.

 “Signal Hill’s fire, service pact OKd.” Press Telegram, 1 July 1959.

 

The Flintstone

            In June 1962 an excited, pretty incoherent woman, called Long Beach Independent reporter Bob Wells about a red-eyed dinosaur that had been keeping Signal Hill residents awake in the wee morning hours by diving for olives in a black swimming pool filled with Martinis. Intrigued by her story he decided to visit the indicated area – 21^st Street and St. Louis Avenue. There he found Miles Shook, and his new 28-unit apartment house, the Flintstone. Some elements in the woman’s story were explained when Wells gazed upon a two-story high mosaic dinosaur with red mazda eyes that adorned the front of the apartments. In the patio he found a black-bottomed swimming pool that Shook fondly referred to as “The tarpit.”

            The Flintstones animated sitcom was one of the most popular programs on television in the 1960s. It entered the ABC broadcast schedule on September 30, 1960 and continued until April 1, 1966.  Though set in the Stone Age it added features and technologies found in mid-20th-centruy America. Shook decided to take up the theme.  

            The one-and two-bedroom apartments were part of Signal Hill’s plan to turn oil land into productive real estate. But they hadn’t planned on Shook’s sense of style and way of doing business. The apartments had the bedrooms on the first floor, from there a cantilevered iron stairway led to the combination kitchen, bar and hi-fi lounge upstairs. Every apartment had a built-in electrically cooled beer keg. The apartments were furnished like a Playboy penthouse, despite Shook’s decorator’s advice  –  silk screened drapes (black flint stones on white), Chinese birdcage chairs that swung on chains from the ceilings, Scandinavian sofas, Danish glass bottles and early American rugs.

Iron stairway in the Flintstone

            Shook also had 200 apartment units scattered around the southern part of the county. He had recently opened another apartment house called the Pink Pussy Cat in Paramount, with a pink pussy cat on the front wall. Local officials sent a sheriff’s car around to protest the mosaic, but there wasn’t a law on the books to stop him.

            Reporter Wells asked him about a rumor that Shook had lured six tenants away to the Flintstone from an apartment house on Redondo Avenue after the landlord at the latter location had imposed a curfew on night swimming in the pool. “Six?” Shook said. “I got 14 of them.” As Wells turned through the plastic bird-of paradise plants back to reality, Shook shoved a flat stone into his hand. It was an invitation to the grand opening of the Flintstone, featuring a five-piece band. 

            The Flintstone loomed high beside George Papadakis’ apartments, and Papadakis claimed the noise and partying from the Flintstone pool was unbearable. At every meeting of the Signal Hill City Council he would come armed with his “diary” he and his wife kept since the Flintstone opened in August 1961. The noise was bad enough but it became unbearable after the grand opening celebration in June 1962. Attempts to get Shook to regulate pool hours was ignored.  Shook’s manager said no one else in the apartment complex had complained, in fact they liked the idea of being able to take a swim whatever the time of day.

George Papadakis

            In his diary, Papadakis documented the throbbing of bongo drums and exuberant shouts of “Hey, bring down another beer.” All this centered around the heated Flintstone swimming pool – dubbed the “Tar Pit” by its owner Miles Shook in keeping with the Flintstone motif.  The heated pool, near Papadakis’ bedroom, was open 24 hours, which made sleep impossible. Frustrated, he decided he needed to get into politics.

            In 1962 Papadakis became a member of the city planning commission and after a large party at the Flintstone on November 10, 1962, he decided to cash in on his new found power. He convinced police to arrest Gerald Kling, Wallace Blaylock Jr., and Gerald Nicholas guests at the party.

            Kling was arrested as he sat in a chair in the patio and was charged with using profane language. Nicholson was arrested on a drunk charge in front of the apartment house.  Blaylock, arrested as he stepped from his car in front of the address, was charged with having a loud muffler on his car and not having his driver’s license in his possession. They claimed they were victims of city harassment against the tenants of the Flintstone and its owner, Miles Shook. During the trial officers admitted to a city policy of “selective enforcement” in the neighborhood. In January 1963, the three were acquitted of misdemeanor charges after a two-day jury trial. 
            Later the three young men sued Paul S. Kemner, the town’s former mayor, Police Chief W.S. Stovall, George Papadakis and three police officers for false imprisonment, assault and battery, malicious prosecution and conspiracy. The suit was for $906,000, however the matter was settled out of court for an undisclosed amount.

            Out of all of this Papadakis was able to finally get a good night’s sleep. In December 1962 he convinced the City Council to pass a strict anti-noise ordinance.  In 1968, he decided to run for city council…but that’s another story I will be writing about later.

           

The Flintstone today - Hillside Manor

The "Tarpit" is no more

What of the Flintstone Apartments? Today you will find it under a different name – Hillside Manor – at 2165 E. 21^st Street, Signal Hill.  There is no dinosaur out front, the pool is no longer black.  In any case, I doubt residents know the history of the apartment building which Long Beach reporter George Robeson once described as “the closest thing to a Playboy Club that Signal Hill ever had.”

If any of you remember "The Flintstone" and would like to share memories or pictures, please contact me through my website claudineburnettbooks.com or leave comments below.

Sources:

“$906,000 in damages sought for arrests.” Press Telegram, 21 November, 1963.

Robeson, George. “3 file claims of false arrest. " Press Telegram, 9 February 1963.

Robeson, George. “Politics get sticky up on Signal Hill.” Press Telegram, 15 March 1968.

Wells, Bob. “This man’s real Shook.” Press Telegram, 8 June, 1962.

Williams, Sherm. “Splashes in night irk neighbor in Signal Hill.” Press Telegram, 18 July, 1962.