Welcome! This is a journal of a visit we made in October/November 2008 to three great US cities to promote our book. It’s here not so much as a travelogue as a way to thank all the lovely people we met along the way who helped us make the trip such as success, in Los Angeles, New York, and Washington.
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1. Los Angeles:
ALL ABOARD!
Let’s start in an appropriate place: the arrivals hall of one of the world’s great railway temples:
– which is pretty much where Mira and I started our swing through the USA (though as we live in Europe I confess we arrived by air). It’s a magnificent survivor of the Art Deco era – a blend of Spanish, Moorish and Mission Revival styles, where trains with names like Coast Starlight, Pacific Surfliner and Sunset Limited still go ‘whoo-whoo’ and you feel at any moment you might bump into Betty Grable or Humphrey Bogart. The ghosts of all the Hollywood greats are here. All aboard!
Of course, LA has its modern side too. Downtown, the Music Center (some imposing buildings) is now crowned by Frank Gehry‘s masterpiece, the Walt Disney Concert Hall, a fanciful metal structure that Gehry originally envisaged in stone. Come off it, Frank! It wouldn’t have had anything like the same impact. This is heroic stuff, à la titanium-covered Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, which also impressed us on a visit a few years ago. Just look at these soaring cliffs and precipices (the acoustics are said to be remarkable, too). It puts a whole new spin on Tin Pan Alley.
Los Angeles was where we spent a week, based in West Hollywood (aka Boystown, for its gay population). A lovely hotel, the Chamberlain, was recommended by a local, (non-gay), friend, Joel Stratte-McClure, who has just written an extraordinary book we enjoyed reviewing: The Idiot and the Odyssey: Walking the Mediterranean.
Rapido, rapido, and cheap
Walking Los Angeles proved almost as taxing. The last time I was here I was on expenses, working for the Daily Mail, living in five-star quarters downtown. I drove a rented Mustang, as I recall, and lived the life of Riley while covering the Charles Manson trial. That was 38 years ago and things have changed, although weirdo Charlie is still thankfully behind bars. The budget this time just about allowed for rides on the Metro Rapid bus along Santa Monica Boulevard: cost 25 cents as a ‘Senior’ with no distance restriction, so the whole of LA was ours for a quarter each – and we could say we’d ridden part of Route 66. The whole bus and metro system was a good experience.
THE PERILS OF BEING AN L.A. STREET-WALKER
Santa Monica Boulevard
We found the prospect of using a car daunting, not for fear of driving but for the sheer volume of traffic and the expense of parking ($28 a night in our modest hotel garage, no street parking allowed). But equally, life as a pedestrian in LA can be darned fraught. First, nobody else is out walking except the occasional dog-handler, and that’s scary with boulevards wider than some European motorways and empty sidewalks stretching miles. Then, trying to cross the street requires good legs and an even better sense of timing.
First, you wait in the hot sun for what seems hours for the light to change to Stop. Next, in the distance a pedestrian sign lights up with electronic numbers counting down until the following signal change. But who times these crazy things? It must be someone who’s seen too many Olympic sprints or rocket launches. Maybe both. You think you have time to cross, grateful for that hip operation that makes the whole enterprise possible. Then when you are half-way over and you sense the drivers, engines throbbing, are ready for lift-off, an upraised red hand appears and starts flashing at you. What, stop right where I am? You tryin’ to tell me sumpin’, buddy? (An open hand thrust toward you is a supreme insult in Greece.) No, it means ‘complete your crossing’ – and get a whizz on, will ya? T Minus Three and counting… The wisest run fastest.
THE UPS AND DOWNS OF METROPOLITAN LIFE
Los Angeles? It’s all been said before. As our Michelin guide put it: ‘[It] has all the benefits and challenges of a major metropolis, though both the pros and cons are magnified by its enormous size and near-mythic reputation.’ Not to mention the awful risk of fire and the almost certainty that the San Andreas Fault will open again, maybe swallowing everything next time.
PLACES we loved: The Getty Center, Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens, Santa Monica Pier, Rodeo Drive, UCLA campus, Beverly Hills, Bel Air, Sunset Boulevard, and of course Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood – and, yes, that famous sign, best seen from Griffith Observatory.
PEOPLE to thank: Joe and Yvette Dabby, Elaine & Arvik Gilboa, Carolyn and Jack Fox, Joel, Elizabeth and Luke Stratte-McClure (all of whom entertained us royally); Sarah Bouchoucha, Edna and Ronnie Shahrabani, Prof Yona Sabar and Dr. Eliezer Chammou of UCLA and other members of Kahal Joseph Congregation, especially Dafna and her husband who triumphed over our hi-tech problems; and Abigail Yasgur of the JCCLA.
MOMENTS to treasure: In Santa Monica, seen from a bus, the sign on the back of a dumpster (‘skip’ in UK English) giving the company phone number: 1-800-LOONY-BINS. The prompt on Virgin America’s website, for those like me who easily forget a password. Security questions usually concern options like a) Mother’s maiden name?; b) My first car? Who would have expected c) How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Bravo the Bransonites! (Answer here, by the way.)
Lastly, more scenes from Santa Monica, which this time I did manage to snap:
Kings of the road: a home on his back and cash on the line
The whole California trip was a blast from start to finish. And at the end of a hard week’s sightseeing, this sign for politically correct tomatoes taken at the local Farmers’ Market summed up pretty much how we must have looked. Now for New York and some quiet time…
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New York:
SO GOOD THEY NAMED IT TWICE
The Fall foliage was spectacular: ‘Bold hues of cranberrry red, custard yellow and pumpkin orange’ according to the New York Times (it was almost Halloween). The city was getting ready for the NY Marathon – won for the fourth year (running) by Paula Radcliffe – and there were floral displays to admire, dotted around the park, though I’m not sure if they were there for the race or just a nice touch.
But of course there were other views. Here are three shots taken through the window of our room on the 40th floor of the Hilton on 53rd and 6th Avenue:
Looking West to the Hudson; North to Central Park; East to the East River.
Following my architectural bent, the Guggenheim Museum was a must on this trip, something I’d missed on previous visits and also, shamefully, during the months I lived there in the early Seventies working for the Daily Mail. Frank Lloyd Wright believed that ‘an ideal American architecture should develop in the image of trees’ while also being functional, and just look at world of nature reflected in these scenes:
It’s dizzying enough to put anyone in a spin. In the lobby we found poor old Pinocchio, who seemed to have been a bit overwhelmed by it all, as we were. Oh well. New York has that effect on everyone, I suppose. And of course, there was Bloomingdales and Macy’s and Saks to complete the downward spiralling effect on my bank balance. The £ had been worth about $2 when we booked this trip; now it was at $1.50. Splashdown.
We visited MoMA (free entry on Friday evenings) and then for a piece of cultural uplift, Radio City Music Hall. The Rockettes did not disappoint. Tedious to recount all the other touristy things… but let’s just say we left plenty to look forward to on a future visit; we’ll surely be back.
PLACES we loved: The Japanese restaurant on W.17th St serving wonderful Italian food (Basta Pasta is another good reason for a return trip). The very top (44th) floor of the Hilton is reserved as a business lounge, so we set up the laptop and cellphone ($19.99 from Wallgreens) there and worked on our book tour, with Manhattan at our feet and WiFi on the keyboard. The breakfast buffet, all-day beverages and complimentary snacks between 5:00pm and 7:00pm kept us going.
PEOPLE to thank: Nora Iny and Abe Moalem Lerner and his lovely family; indeed all the great people we met at the Congregation Bene Naharayim in Brooklyn - Hanina and Ida Belboul, Mrs Bakhash, Mrs Somekh, Mr Shohet and of course the wonderful cook. David Shasha, Carole Basri, Gabi Nawi and Sam, Clara Shahrabani, Dafna Tachover, and Maurice and Esther Soussa; Diane Oliver, Dermot Purgavie, Peter Pringle; David and Taylor Tait, Shannon Sweeney and Lowell Emerling. Our friends at the American Sephardi Federation in Manhattan, Ellen Cohen and Lynne Winters. Last but not least, Ron Soussa, for organising our excursion to New Jersey, for rescuing us from the elements on a sleety night, and introducing Mira to buffaloburgers.
MOMENTS to treasure: Twice we boarded a bus without realising we had no small change for the fare — or a Metro card — and both times the ‘operator’ gave us a free ride. (I’d mention their names but it might land them in trouble.) The kindness of the city’s bus drivers was matched by the warmth of New Yorkers generally. Friendly to a fault: on those buses we were handed a bus map by a fellow passenger while others shouted advice about where to change for our destination. (Unfortunately it was conflicting advice; quite a conflict ensued). Only in New York.
SPEAK UP: CAN’T HEAR YOU!
We gave two presentations in New York. Here’s a picture of me at the first one, at the American Sephardi Federation, 15 W.16th Street, playing to a packed house (ahem!). It was notable personally for another reason: someone I hadn’t seen in 45 years turned up and gave me the surprise of my life. Thank you, Benjamin Hudson (and thank you Larry and Marge Grewelle, other old friends from those old days in Greece who put Ben up to it). Ben reminded me I taught him to proof-read when we worked together on the Athens News; he’s now at New York City University, lecturing on, er, proof-reading.
Projecting her voice: Mira at the start of our DVD show (artwork by Nilesh Mistry)
The second event was at the Bene Naharayim synagogue in Brooklyn, which was also packed (though no doubt the wonderful Iraqi food had something to do with that). It was a lovely warm and friendly gathering and Mira was thrilled to meet up with long-lost members of the Iraqi-Jewish community and work out family relationships.
MEMORABLE MONTVILLE
As I said, we made a side trip across to New Jersey, where on a surprisingly cold and wet wintry night a great crowd of people turned out to welcome us to the Montville Township Public Library, where our host was Senior Librarian Ron Rizio and we met Mayor Deborah Nielson. The other Ron (Soussa), Mira’s cousin, not only provided sustenance, shelter and transport for two shivering visitors who had just come from sunny California, he also backed up with IT support when we couldn’t get our DVD to play.
When it did eventually work, the photographer from the local Daily Record took this picture of Mira. She is standing before a projected photo from MEMORIES OF EDEN showing her Aunt Fahima crossing the desert from Baghdad to Palestine in 1931 by Nairn coach, a 600-mile trip. The DVD stuck at that very moment, freeze-framing this one image out of more than 120 in the presentation. Fahima had been very much in our minds as we had visited her only last March in the same Tel Aviv apartment she had lived in since the Thirties. Then the very next day we received a call saying she had passed away – the last of Violette’s five sisters, aged 97.
Tehani Schneider of the Daily Record wrote a nice piece about the event, which you can read here.
And finally, on a further literary note, we left New York after dining with another author, Ariel Sabar, who has written recently about the old days of Iraq in MY FATHER’S PARADISE: A Son’s Search for his Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq. Having just met his father in Los Angeles (Dr Yona Sabar is Professor of Hebrew and Aramaic at UCLA) it was quite a moment. His book tour and ours crossed in a noisy bistro setting in Manhattan’s Tribeca neighbourhood and we hope it will forge the footing for a lasting friendship.
On now, to Washington and the Night of the Obama.
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HOLY MOLY!
WAIT A MO! There’s something fishy going on here. As we headed for the nation’s capital and the electrifying presidential election, THIS is what we found facing us in the seat back of our train from Penn Station, New York, to Union Station, Washington DC. An ‘in-train’ magazine whose cover certainly had headline appeal.
Rumor? Scandal? Baby-kissing? Oh, that must be MO Rocca – the (other) comedian! No relation, of course, and no offence if I say I had never heard of him – though judging by what I’ve since read on the net he turns out to be something of a national TV treasure. That’s what comes of living in parochial Europe. Sorry about that, Mo. Let’s have a drink one day! All the same, I think I’d like to do something about that cover art…
Rocca? C’est MOI, Rocca! And my vote goes to
I haven’t been this excited since the days of JFK. Let’s not get confused, now. Don’t wanna Rocca da boat. Googling ‘Rocca’ brings up 12,200,000 results.
CUT TO CHEVY CHASE
So. There we were on this lovely train heading for Washington, speeding past the autumn colours that seemed to get richer the further south we went, and when we arrived – lo and behold, another architectural ohmygosh moment. They know how to build train stations in the USA, even if Amtrak itself isn’t quite up to speed with developments in other parts of the world.
Union Station, Washington DC. What a triumph! Its grandeur is astounding.
Where else, for example, might you find 36 figures of Roman legionnaires welcoming you on the balcony of a soaring main hall whose gold leaf, barrel-vaulted ceiling stretches 120ft? Where mahogany woodwork glows with polished care and a vast – the word is inadequate – food court offering cuisine from corners you never even knew existed serves delicious meals in a jiffy (an American achievement no other nation has ever come near emulating). Oh, and it also has 130 stores and a nine-screen movie multiplex in case you aren’t into trains per se. Wow, with five stars attached.
Hardly had we set foot in the capital than we were whisked off on a five-hour tour by a new friend, Gail Shirazi, who showed us a side of the city not every tourist will recognise. Yes of course there was the Capitol 
and all the classic architecture any self-respecting TV station broadcasting from DC considers mandatory as a backdrop. And later we thought we’d pop along and see
poor old Dubya to wave him on his way from his front garden: a familiar platform with the most famous railings in the world. Corny, I know. We visited Georgetown, Bethesda and Chevy Chase, and finally achieved a lifetime’s ambition to delve into Foggy Bottom.
GREENING THE HILL
But what, you must be saying, has a jungle complex akin to Kew Gardens to do with the seat of power? Here on the HIll, two steps from Congress where powerful men and women clash rowdily is a haven of calm that gets no airtime at all and hardly ever any press. Ladies and Gentlemen, a big hand (of green fingers) for the US Botanic Garden, and all who dig within. The 1930s conservatory, where I took these pictures, has been renovated to include a catwalk over a central rainforest.
As we once overheard when an American tourist gasped in awe on witnessing the might of Seville cathedral: Who’d-a thunked it?
Who’d-a thunked this, too: the next photos are not, as you might suspect, from historic Siena, Florence or Rome but from just around the corner in the Library of Congress.
Another Beaux-Arts masterpiece: The Great Hall, Jefferson Building
Gutenberg, Mira and Gail
The largest library in the world is contained within three buildings with more than 120 million items – books (including a Gutenberg Bible), manuscripts, letters, photos, musical scores, bla-bla, ho-ho, and even ha-ha. Any place containing Thomas Jefferson’s fabulous reading room and, under the same roof, Bob Hope’s joke vault gets my vote. The Folger Shakespeare Library nearby was also extraordinary. Do we love America?
Thanks for the memory
For Bob Hope fans the complete Bob Hope Joke File of more than 85,000 pages has been digitally scanned and indexed, and visitors can access it. The material in his personal cache of comedy, used for his famous topical monologues, is astounding. Literally, great fun.
HOLDING THE FRONT PAGES
The Smithsonian Institution runs nine museums around here, most famously the National Air and Space Museum. We flew through it, with hardly time for anything more than the fastest take on all its marvels before touching down briefly at the National Gallery of Art (the I.M.Pei East Building was another wow), the National Museum of American History, and a quick pause for a snap outside the National Museum of the American Indian. More curves and swooshes of architectural inspiration.
As much to admire on the outside as within
Monuments, museums, memorials… Hey, I’m not writing a guide but there were two other high points of our touristy days (not counting the Metro, which is cheap and easy to navigate). The first was a place Gail counselled us to invest some time in: the National Postal Museum, for insights into the American story and the hardships people had to overcome in nation-building.
Priority mail
The second was the brand new Newseum – the world’s greatest interactive museum of news, with behind-the-scenes views of how and why news is made. Hands-on exhibits trace five centuries of news gathering. A special show chronicled the links between the FBI and the Press.
Cut out and keep: an encounter with J.Edgar Hoover
You can search the archives, pull up famous front pages, test your skills as a TV reporter… and see two typewriters I admit to being old enough to have used in my illustrious career (and still own: a relic designed pre-World War One and used in the trenches, and an Olivetti Lettera 22 which is also on show in the MoMA, New York, I’m pleased to report).
BACK TO BUSINESS
But I’m getting carried away. The purpose of our visit was to promote our book, and here Gail came up
trumps. She and another wonderful new friend, Monique Daoud, helped organise speaking events for us in two nearby synagogues in Maryland:
Beth El in Bethesda, and Magen David in Rockville. Not content with that, Gail, who works at the Library of Congress, went on to fix a date for us to address an audience at the library itself, in the Mary Pickford Theater.
Yes, we had a lot of fun. Next time, though, instead of wearing out shoe-leather I think I’ll suggest to Mira we join a Segway tour and ride the capital in style.
PLACES we loved: The FDR monument, alongside the Tidal Basin’s cherry trees: an 800ft long series of four open-air rooms representing Roosevelt’s four terms of office. Great bas reliefs and statues, fountains, waterfalls, quotes from the great man – ‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.’ The top terrace of the Newseum, which is on Pennsylvania Avenue, halfway between the Capitol and the White House, so the views are terrific. Take a look at the panorama here.
PEOPLE to thank: Gail Shirazi, Monique and Edouard Daoud – between them Gail and Monique helped organise five of our seven speaking venues; words cannot express our admiration for their generosity – Ricardo Munster (Ricky) at Congregation Beth El, John and Pat Barry, Ed and Lynne Dolnick, Paul Eddy and Sara Walden, Rosemary Atkins. Thank you also to Monique’s aunt Mrs Basri, and to Lynn David for putting Mira in touch with long lost friends; also to Arden Alexander, Gail’s colleague at the LoC, for help with the Matson collection of photographs. We even met another member of the prolific Sabar family, Shlomo, who was giving a talk on amulets from the Middle East.
MOMENTS to treasure? So many. The train journey, certainly, with all the Fall colours along the line; and the helpful Red Cap porters whose inside knowledge of tracks, trains and seating plans made traversing the stations almost a pleasure. We also caught Halloween – a totally new experience for us. Interesting to see all the front gardens done up with tombstones, witches and ghosts, and then to get caught up in Georgetown traffic at midnight as university kids went wild.
YES HE DID
But the moment had to be Barack Obama’s victory night. We were at Ed and Lynne’s friendly home in Chevy Chase, surrounded by fervent Democrats, one or two Brits like us who couldn’t vote, and several enormous hounds. Me, I like dogs; Mira? Nah. Never (it’s the Middle Eastern psyche). We were hanging on the TV with its surround-sound system; Lynne was giving me a running line on exit polls, predictions, swing states, and all other forecasts coming to her via her Mac; Mira was fending off the sheep-sized pooches in an original fashion, with a water pistol kindly provided by our hostess; I was into my second helping of Lynne’s 2-Alarm Chili and then it happened. OBAMA!
You had to be there.
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