On Saturdays, as my usual ritual if I happen to be at home while doing mundane chores, the radio is on between the hours of 10:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m., 1460 on the AM dial.
First the Polish radio hour, followed by the Serbian radio hour and then the Lithuanian radio hour. Lastly, a Spanish speaking program of songs and requests, but with some well known and recognized English melodies, sung in Spanish; occasionally listeners share the reasons for their particular requests. A few weeks back, the host of the program mentioned the phrase, "un pedacito de Los Angeles," since I speak and understand a little Spanish, having lived and attended school in the L.A. area, my mind immediately started recalling my "pedacito de Los Angeles."
I recall the Union Station when we arrived by train in California to become permanent residents; the apartment on Third and Diamond Street where there was just a hill in the back, but now is part of the Harbor Freeway, Grand Avenue exit; the Angels Flight Cable car that moved us up to Bunker Hill on the steep incline for only a nickel; next door the Third Street Tunnel that brought us home, walking, from the Grand Central Market, weekly, after buying our groceries and the complete Central Library downtown on 5th Street where I continuously borrowed books from grade to high school.
Saint Anthony's Croatian Catholic Church, on the hill, at Alpine and Grand, welcomed us so that we could be a part of this community, where I and fellow young Croatians willingly joined the social groups as volunteers and happily made coffee on Sundays, belonged to the Cultural Club Tamburitza Orchestra and Kolo Group until we left L.A. or got married; Philippe's on Alameda and Ord, an old two story, rustic eatery, (still there, kiddy corner from Union Station) with sawdust on the floor, serving French-dipped sandwiches and serving coffee for 9¢; Olvera Street and Chinatown, old hangouts where my friends and I bought ethnic snacks while attending school at Our Lady Queen of Angels School near College and Castelar Street; Old Placita Church across Olvera Street where my 8th Grade and High School graduation took place.
Las Cazuelas Restaurant, a hole in the wall on 3rd Street between Broadway and Hill, owned by my best friend Rosario's aunt Beni, where we were told we could have anything to eat, provided we prepare the meal ourselves. I remember preparing and enjoying ropa vieja, albondigas soup, tacos, enchiladas, steak picado and many other memorable Mexican dishes. To this day I compare the Mexican dishes eaten at various restaurants to the wonderful, tasty meals consumed at Las Cazuelas! I never owned property in Los Angeles, but "un pedacito de L.A." will always own me!
