The Bad Ass Peacemakers of Nickerson Gardens

Tending the Gardens

)By Michael Krikorian 

On a recent evening outside the gym at Nickerson Gardens in Watts, a boom box fills the air with the sounds of a jazz flutist. Big Hank Henderson walks over to his GMC Yukon with the shiny 24-inch rims and pulls out one of his jazz compilations. He tells the boom-box man to put on the Les McCann–and–Eddie Harris cut “The Generation Gap.” It’s a fitting jam.

For two decades, Big Hank Henderson, 49, and his ace partner Big Donny Joubert, 46, both raised in the projects, have been reaching out to a younger generation of youth and young men in Watts, urging them to avoid gang violence, stay in school and pursue their dreams. Naturally, in this rough neighborhood, they have been through many heartbreaking disappointments and countless funerals, but without these two powerful men, the situation would be far worse.

“We all about Watts, period. Not just Nickerson Gardens, but all of Watts,” says Joubert, sitting on a folding chair in front of the gym’s entrance. “All these guys and girls deserve to graduate and be all they can be. Gang violence is a disease.”

“To me, Donny and Hank are community heroes,” says Sheldon Cruz, policy administrator for Los Angeles’ Human Relations Committee. “They do all this work to help the community and they do it for free on their own time.”

Cruz recalls how back in 2003, when he came to Nickerson Gardens, the relationship between the project and the LAPD was very low. “Hank and Donny helped rebuild a rapport with the LAPD,” Cruz says.

In March, the LAPD’s Southeast Division, which patrols Watts, played a basketball game in the Nickerson Gardens gym against a team from the projects. Ten years ago, that would have been unheard of.

“I can vouch for Hank and Donny that they are doing a great job,” says the LAPD’s Jerome Walker, of Southeast Division.

Congresswoman Janice Hahn, whose was the councilwoman for L.A.'s 15 District includes Watts, often dealt with the peacemakers.

“They can calm things down because they have the respect of everybody in the neighborhood,” says Hahn. “Hank and Donny are making a big difference.”

“If more urban neighborhoods had individuals like Donny and Hank, who selflessly work toward providing a better place for young people to grow up and achieve their goals,” says Gregory Thomas, a community interventionist who is also devoted to ending the violence, “then Los Angeles would be a better place for all of us to live in.”

Henderson and Joubert come to their maintenance-department jobs at the projects at 7:30 a.m. and get off at 4:30 p.m. Then, after working out on a bench press and a speed bag, they hang out around the gym, offering advice, refereeing games, breaking up an occasional fight and just making sure things are calm. They usually leave around 9:30 p.m. But that doesn’t mean their day is done.

“It never ends,” says Henderson, a man of few words who normally stays out of the spotlight. “We can be home at 1, 2, 3 in the morning and get a phone call that there’s some trouble, and we are right back here.”

Both Henderson and Joubert are quick to point out that they are not alone in their quest to keep the peace. There are many others involved. One of them is Dameian Hartfield.

“To put it simply,” Hartfield says, “they do way more than the average person to help the community in a positive way.”

For all the nice words that everyone says about them, what the two could really use is some help.

“We can’t do this alone. This is a huge problem,” Joubert says. “Get us some computer programs. Some afterschool programs. When you have nothing to fall back on, what are you gonna do? You are going to get in trouble.”

When Henderson’s jazz CD plays out, the boom-box man walks it back to him. Henderson tells Boom Box to put the CD back in his Yukon.

“But keep your hands where I can see them,” Henderson says, smiling just a bit.

On his way back, Boom Box says, “When I get my Caddy, I ain’t even gonna let you sit in the front seat.”

Joubert chimes in, “That’s okay. Hank rather be in the back seat anyway.”

Big Donny up front, Big Hank scooping 

The World's Second Best Pizza

"il sole nel piatto"  The Dream of Caiazzo

PEPE IN GRANI

The world's best pizza is your favorite pizza, whatever and wherever that may be. It might be that pepperoni pizza from your old neighborhood or "the Works" at the pizzeria in your college town. Could be it's Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix or PIzzeria Due in Chicago. or Di Fara's in Brooklyn.  My favorite pizza is the off-the-menu Michael Pizza ( three cheeses with fennel sausage added) at Pizzeria Mozza in Hollywood South.

I am in no way trying to budge you from your favorite pizza. I get loyalty. I'm all about loyalty. I will tell you, though, the second best pizza in the world is made at "Pepe in Grani" in the quaint town of Caiazzo, in Campania, Italy about an hour-long windy drive from Naples. I'll straight-out proclaim that. 

The particular pizza there that ascends is called "Il sole nel piatto", also known, to me alone,  as "The Dream of Caiazzo"  

I wrote about Pepe in Grani, ( Pepe in Grains) briefly here a few weeks ago, ( https://michael-krikorian.squarespace.com/blog/2013/8/16/pizza-titans-meet ) after Nancy Silverton and I went there August, 13.  But, damn. the pizzas I ate there haunt my memory. Nancy doesn't help at all. The other day she told me "If I had ate a pizza from Franco Pepe before I opened my pizzeria, I would have never opened my pizzeria."  

Thing about the pizza here is not the crust, which, as fine as it is, has nothing on Mozza's landmark handles. The crust at Pepe in Grani is "doughy", but in a very satisfying way. It has quite a pleasant flavor and a good bite-into feel.  Most of the roughly 150 diners here were going at their pizzas with a fork and knife.  I didn't, though I needed to fold and tuck at the point. 

However,, what sets Pepe in Grani apart was the brilliant quality of the stuff on top of that hand-stretched dough.  Even the basil. It was like basil turbo. You bite into it and it's like saying "Yeah, I'm some basil. What about it?" Settle it down, basil.

Same thing with the anchovies. They tasted more like grilled bistecca than salty, dwarf fish.  The olives. These olives would be saying to others, "You call yourself an olive? I oughtta pit you." The tomatoes. LIke Ruth Reichl once wrote about tomatoes, "They tasted like a slice of the sun cooled in a forest stream."  The mozzarella. Supreme. 

After two pizzas and a large calzone (that had Nancy repeatedly saying "This ricotta, this ricotta...") , we were full. But, knowing we weren't passing this way any time soon, we snagged a server and asked her what was her favorite pizza. She pointed to a listing toward the bottom of the menu and said "Dream."  This pizza became known to us then as "The Dream". Since then, I have never really dreamt about it, but I think about this pizza ravenously two, three times a week. 

I emailed the man himself, Franco Pepe, Prince of Caiazzo, about "the Dream". Here is what he wrote back,  

 

"I believe that the pizza you are talking about is "il sole nel piatto", which in english would sound the sun in the plate. It is a pizza that has quite a story since "il sole nel piatto" is a documentary that an italian film director, named Alfonso Postiglione, shot about neapolitan pizza. In this film four 'pizzaioli' coming from families that make pizza from generations and keep it alive as a tradition were interwied, and one of them was me! I was then asked to think about a pizza taking this film as an inspiration, so I decided to put together tastes from the costiera, as anchovies and the countryside here in Campania, as olives. This as an homage to my country. "

That country prolly has had a lot of homages to it, but none more delicious than "The Dream".

*** 

After six weeks in Italy, Nancy and I came up with list of our best dishes and best restaurants in various categories that I billed as "Tastes of the Trip". I envisioned it as an Academy Award-type of show. The big award, the equivaient of the Best Picture Oscar, would be Best Restaurant.   

The big favorite was the blockbuster Osteria Francescana, in Modena, the highest rated restaurant in all of Italy. This place has the top rating in the guidebook L'Exprsso (19.75), is tied for top in Gambero Rosso (95 points),  came in 3rd in 2013 the San Pellegrino listing of the top 50 restaurants in the world and was rated #1 in Europe by the Daily Meal website in December, 2012.  

The last time Nancy and I discussed the best restaurant of the trip award, it was a tie between (Big Sid Catlett hits the drums here)...Osteria Francesca and Pepe in Grani.   

I'd for sure go back to Osteria Francescana. It was outstanding on every front.  I'd make a reservation far in advance and plan a little trip around going there. Hey, It's 273 kilometers from Nancy's home in Panicale, Umbria  It's not a spur of the minute meal. 

But, if we were in Panicale and it was 6 p.m. and it was raining and Nancy said "Let's go to Franco Pepe's for pizza tonight", which, by the way, is 345 kilometers away,  I'd say. "Get in the car." 

We'd be driving there, rain slanting, Coltrane and Davis soothing "All of You", the rented Lancia hitting 190 kph, and Nancy'd say "We might have to wait for a table." 

So we'd wait. It's worth waiting on the Dream. 

I'm working on a dream   Though sometimes it feels so far away

I'm working on a dream   And I know it will be mine someday

- Bruce Springsteen - Working on a Dream

PEPE IN GRANI

Vico S. Giovanni Battista, 3

81013 Caiazzo (CE) Italy

T. +39 0823.862718

https://www.facebook.com/pepeingrani

Il sole nal piatto  aka The Dream of Caiazzo

In the kitchen with Franco Pepe  after the Dream

First pie at Peoe in Grani

Pizza Titans

Half a Dream  

No Outrage For This Trayvon's Killing

August 31, 2013

                         THIS TRAYVON 

President Obama won't be saying "If I had a son, he would look like this Trayvon."  There won't be any marches led by Al Sharpton over this Trayvon's shooting death which occurred Tuesday afternoon in a section of L. A. most Los Angelenos don't even know. CNN and every other network won't be providing "breaking news" reports if this Trayvon's killer ever comes to trial.   

But, for the family of 16-year-old Trayvon Jackson, gunned down with his 18-year-old friend Antonio Riley in a firestorm of bullets on 64th Street near 6th Avenue in Hyde Park, well, for them , the world right now is a cruel place and they just want to be left alone.. 

"I don't even want all that attention anyway, like that Florida Trayvon got," said Trayvon Jackson's mother Tamiesha as she walked aimlessly around the driveway of a tattered two-story apartment complex on East 87th Place where she lives. five miles from the killings.   Surrounded by two daughters and family friends, she politely and softly asked me to leave. I respectfully honored her. But, as I turned to go, her friend Demetrice Harbin asked me "Why are you here?" I told her this has been my beat for nearly 20 years and when I found out the name of the youngest victim, the contrasts in the media attention of Trayvon Martin, 17, and this Trayvon Jackson struck me.

Look, I get it. I don't expect the slaying of a black 16 -year-old boy from South Central Los Angeles by, almost certainly, another black male, to get to national attention. I've been doing this long enough to know that. Thing is, buckhorn foolish as it may be, it still irks me.  I'm not alone.    

“If this Trayvon would have been shot by a white guy,  everyone would have heard about it," said Daude Sherrills, long time community activist who grew up in the Jordan Downs projects. “I mean President Obama was talking about the other Trayvon in Florida. Congress. Movie stars. NBA stars. You had  them clowns Sharpton and Jackson doing their routine in front of the TV cameras. Where are they for this Trayvon and his friend? It's no big deal because a black guy shot them  They're just as dead as they would have been if a white guy shot them "

Back on 87th Place, Demetrice Harbin went back into the apartment where the grieving mother had gone. Soon the mom came out and started talking about her son. 

"He was just a kid. They try and make him out like he's a  gangster because where he was," she said. (Police detectives have said the killings, in a Rollin 60s Crips neighborhood, were gang-related, most likely a payback from the Rollin 40s Crips to the 60s for  shooting death earlier this month. Trayvon, nicknamed "Crafty", was what police call an "associate" of the 60s.)   

The mom went on to say her son loved to watch action and scary movies. "He loved all them "Friday" movies. And "Boyz in the Hood."   One of Trayvon's sisters, Beverly, said he loved to rap and admired the rapper Nipsey Hustle. The mom cut in, "Oh, he loved the oldies, too. The Temptations. Sam Cooke. We used to dance around the front room. Just him and me." 

She got quiet and her daughter and Demetrice stared at her.

"Trayvon used to always tell me he was going to buy me a house and a truck."  

Just under a mile away, on 81st Street near the Harbor Freeway, Anthony Riley was on his porch talking about Trayvon's friend, his own slain son, Antonio.    

"He was just a baby," said Riley, 46 who grew up in Watts and now drives a tanker truck. "He wasn't  a trouble maker. He just went to visiting a friend and he got killed for it. " 

Riley, who got the bad news over the phone from a friend, said he has been in a state of rage since then. 

"I'm hot as fish grease. Mad as a motherfucker," said Riley. his big biceps tensing up. But, he insisted he did not want to personally get revenge on the person who shot his son. "I hope they catch him. I don't want to go to prison. I have another kid to live for."

MICHAEL KRIKORIAN, JR.

NEW YORK TIMES SUNDAY MAGAZINE,  "LIVES"

November 25, 2007

The Namesake

By MICHAEL KRIKORIAN

Back in 1985, while working at Hughes Aircraft in Long Beach, Calif., I met a fine young woman named Addie. She worked in a different department, but whenever I saw her, I’d flirt with her. Eventually she became my girlfriend. I was a fixture at her mother’s house in the Fruit Town ’hood where Addie lived with her two sons. It was known as Fruit Town because of the names of the streets — Cherry, Peach, Pear — and it was one of the roughest neighborhoods in Compton, home of the Fruit Town Piru gang, one of the original gangs in the confederation known as the Bloods.

It was during this time that the crack epidemic was at its inglorious height. There were dealers up and down Cherry Street, a narrow lane of tattered two-bedroom homes. My girlfriend became hooked on crack. Some nights she wouldn’t come home. But I stayed with her and tried in vain to get her to stop. When you love someone who is on crack, you can’t help trying to get them to quit.

Like the fool I was, I continued to have unprotected sex with her. She became pregnant. I wondered if I was the father. Addie swore tearfully I was. When the baby was born, he didn’t really look like me, but he did have a bit of a hooked nose like mine. I put my trust in that nose.

Addie named the boy Michael Krikorian Jr. For the first two years of his life, I bought almost every sip of Similac, slurp of food and batch of diapers. Finally one day, Addie’s sister Kathy called me an idiot and told me he wasn’t my kid. Something I knew deep down. Eventually Addie admitted it to me. Still, the kid didn’t have a real father, so I continued to help out. (The biological father was a dealer up the street. He died eight years ago from a heart attack.)

Even after Addie and I split, I would still drop in on Li’l Mike. When he saw me walk in the door, he’d get this really big smile on his face, rush over and punch me in the leg. But eventually the visits faded, and the last time I saw Mike he was maybe 6 or 7 years old. Then last summer, Addie called. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. Michael, now 19, had been arrested and charged with a gang-related murder.

One morning a few weeks later, I went over to the notorious Men’s Central Jail, where half a dozen inmates have been killed in the last few years. I got in the dreaded line of visitors who wait outside to see loved ones. You really do have to love the person who’s incarcerated to get in that damn line. It felt as long as a football field.

Michael Jr., I learned from Addie, had joined the Neighborhood Compton Crips. As I waited in line, I wondered where Li’l Mike would be today if I really were his father and had raised him. And I wondered where I would be if it hadn’t been for my own father. Maybe I’d be there, too. I got into trouble twice as an adult, and both times my dad came to my rescue.

After about 90 minutes outside, I was let into the jail’s waiting room — a depressing place with flies and swarms of little kids running around. Finally, after another hour and a half, a deputy called out Michael’s name.

I went to Row F, Seat 14, and there he was, waiting on the other side of a pitted glass partition. He looked good — lean and muscular, like a cornerback or a wide receiver. Li’l Mike is now 6-foot-2, 205 pounds.

He looked at me as if to say: “Why you sitting here? You must have the wrong seat.” I just sat there looking at him. Slowly, the past came back: a lopsided grin, then a smile, then the big smile I remember. That recognition was sweet. It took a minute for the phones to work, so we just kept staring at each other. Then the phones came on.

“Do you know my name?” I asked him.

He just started laughing. “Yeah,” he said. “You got a cool name.”

We talked about his life — his brothers, his schooling, his plans if the case goes his way. He asked me to send him a certain book, but it had to be a paperback. I said I would. I told him I was sorry I didn’t have any cash that day to leave for him. “That’s all right,” he said with a warm, sincere smile. “The visit is greatly appreciated.” I said something stupid like, “Hang in there,” and then put my left fist up to the glass. His fist met mine.

As I walked outside into the fresh air, I thought about him sleeping in that jail. I prayed he wouldn’t be found guilty, though the trial wouldn’t be for months. I figured I’d go back and visit him again. Damn that damn line.

Hit 'n Run Becomes Double Homicide in South Central

WRONG CORNER, WRONG TIME 

September 5, 2013

I was trying to think of a word to describe the latest double homicide in South-Central Los Angeles, but couldn't come up with anything appropriate, so I'll just relate briefly what happened. 

Early Sunday morning, there was a hit-and-run car crash.  The guy that got hit, sped after the guy that drove away. It apparently began a wild chase. Barreling west on 50th Street from Flower Street heading toward Figueroa, the "Hit" car caught up with the "Run" car, cutting him off so the two vehicles came to an abrupt, screeching halt. At least one driver, maybe both, exited their vehicle.

It just so fatefully happened that seeing all this commotion at 4:55 a.m. was a gang member hanging near 50th and Figueroa streets. Thinking the two cars were together and about to attack his 'hood, the guy grabbed a shotgun and blasted the two drivers to death.

"Some random gangster shot-gunned them both," said veteran LAPD homicide detective Chris Barling who has just about seen it all.  "It was definitely different. That's for sure. We're thinking the shooter must have thought the two cars were together and sees them driving crazy, slam to a stop and get out and he figures they're going to attack him."

Wednesday afternoon a suspect, Derrick Henry, was arrested for the killings, Barling wrote on his Twitter account. @77thhomicidecop.  Henry, 18, is scheduled to be arraigned Friday.  

The Los Angeles County Coroner's office said Gilbert Ralph Montano, 24, from Rosamond in Kern County died from a shotgun blast to his head and Anthony Smallwood, 40, of Los Angeles died of a shotgun wound to his torso. 

Police are searching for a suspect. Anyone with information can call LAPD gang homicide at (213) 485-1385

Go Go Hong on Italian Culture

A month ago, LIz "Go Go" Hong stayed with me and Nancy Silverton in Panicale, Umbria for one week.  While Nancy was in charge of the food, I became sort of Go Go's personal  Minister of Italian Culture.*

The following is a question/answer with Go Go and Krikorian Writes on her cultural experience during what she has called "the greatest trip of her life"  

 ******************

Krikorian Writes - After being home a month, what sticks out culturally from your trip to Italy? What will you keep in your cultural spirit?

Go Go  -   Umm. That's a good question. There was some much culture going on all over Italy.  But, if I had to pick one thing, probably the Tumeric-flavored Yogurt appetizer at Cibreo in Florence.  

KW  - Well, that's more like fermented milk culture, isn't it? I was talking more about... 

Go Go -  Oh, and did you know that in Florence, the don't even call it Florence. It's called like "Fur 'n Z",  Ya know,. like it's a mink coat company. And i guess they put the "Z" on it so its kinda like "the end", ya know. Like the "last word" in fur coats.  Fur and Z. I kinda like it.  

KW -  I see. Umm, interesting take.  How about your favorite museum?  

Go Go   It might not technically be a museum in the classical sense, like the way the Beverly Center is, but the Prada Outlet was very rewarding.   

KW  - Ok.   Let's see. I  understand in Rome, Michael took you to the Spanish Steps. 

Go Go -  He took me to some steps. I don't know if they were Spanish. They might have been Mexican. You know, the way some Mexicans say they're Spanish. (At this point Go Go coughed, but as she coughed, mumbled what sounded like "Pilar".)

KW   Did you see any Caravaggio masterpieces?

Go Go   No. Baseball is not very big in Italy.   David Rosoff told me Sandy Caravaggio once pitched a perfect game, though. 

KW  Let's move on. Speaking of David, I understand you saw the public copy on display in Piazza della Signoria.

Go Go  Come again? 

KW  That's what she.. .. Forget it. The public outdoor version of Michelangelo's stature of David. Out in the piazza. The town square. You took a photo with it. Were you impressed?  

Go Go -  Oh, the nude guy. Yeah, good abs. Nice ass, too. His thing, though. It wasn't hard. I mean I guess it was hard because it was made out of metal, or ugh, clay. No, not clay because clay would like get all wet in the rain and sorta melt. Right? But, his thing was not pointing up. You understand? It was pointing down. Good thing he didn't pee. I was right under it.  

KW - It's a sta.....   Let's go on.  Let's talk about architecture. 

Go Go  That's ok. 

KW  Ok. Well, let's see. I understand Michael walked you by the Church of Santa Croce in Flore, I mean, ugh, Fur And Z.   

Go Go - You catch on quick. 

KW  -And he told you Michelangelo, Gaiileo, Rossini, Ghiberti and  several other famous people were entombed there and he asked you if you wanted to go inside to, what, pay your respects?

Go Go  Yes. 

KW What did you tell him? 

Go Go . Rest in peace.

Go Go at the Pilar Steps

Go Go at Neptune's Fountain in Piazza Navona in Rome

The Great One with Go Go Hong 

Why Chris Feldmeier Retired From Mozza

LOS ANGELES  

August 29, 2013

Barring a Joel Robuchon-like comeback,  August 27, 2013 marked the last day Chris Feldmeier worked as chef de cuisine at Osteria Mozza, a job he has had since the highly acclaimed restaurant in Hollywood South opened in 1961. 

Several people - and when I say "several", I am talking at least seven -  have asked me, knowing Chris and I are friends,  "Why? Why is Chris Feldmeier leaving Mozza?" The reasons were explained at a rye-infused farewell to Feldmeier at the Pikey this past Tuesday. For those of you unable to attend, here are the

                TOP 15 REASONS WHY BIG CHRIS  IS LEAVING MOZZA

!5. Told by executive chef Matt Molina "Either divorce Dahlia or I'll reveal our secret love affair."

14. The thrill of working at Mozza greatly diminished  since the departure of Taylor. 

13. Wear and tear on internal organs caused by being bumped into by AD

12. His intense hatred for bartenders named after World War II British field marshal. (NOTE The most famous British field marshal of WWII was Bernard Montgomery) 

11. Upset with David for charging Duke for a drink. 

10. Missing Uzma. 

9. If he read one more salumi story about Chad Colby, he would have shot him

8. Offered a job paying three times his current salary as executive chef of Nickerson Gardens. 

7. The utterly depressing realization that he would never, ever get to work side by side with Sam 

6.  Wanted to steal the thunder from Deb's farewell party tomorrow. 

5. Being paid very well by Daniel Flores to assassinate Mike Hoagland

4. Made a 100,000 bet at Caesar's Palace newly promoted Derek couldn't last a month without him.

3 Sick and tired of being called "an idiot" and being told what to do by Matt  MIchaelson.

2. Ran out of horrible things to say about Shannon Curely  

And the number one reason Chris Feldmeier is leaving mozza...

1. Leaving to spend more time with illegitimate son, Jake

MICHAEL HASTINGS' INVESTIGATION NOT OVER

DETECTIVE STILL ON THE CASE, NEW DETAILS EMERGE ABOUT HASTINGS AND THE CRASH

August 28, 2013

LOS ANGELES

Despite the release last week of the coroner's report, the lead LAPD detective in the Michael Hastings' fatal car crash case said Tuesday the investigation is "far from over", but adamantly maintained the view that the investigative journalist's death  was not caused by a criminal act.

"I'm not even close to being done with the investigation," said Det. Connie White in a small interview room at LAPD's West Traffic Bureau Division. "It was an accident.  I understand it is very important we do as thorough a job as we can do before the final report."

From Detective White and other well -placed sources, some new details have emerged from the last morning of Hastings' life which ended June 18 when his speeding Mercedes Benz crashed into a palm tree on Highland Avenue near Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjaPHWNz

* Hastings was on his way to Las Vegas that morning. 

* A pedestrian was nearly hit by Hastings' Mercedes at the traffic light on Highland at WIlloughby Avenue about halfway between Melrose and Santa Monica Boulevard, where the Benz ran a red light.    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNhqKRugk8Q

* The momentary blip of light on the Mercedes before it hits the curb is from the brake lights 

 *  The first obvious "flash", internet-gossiped to be a small explosion that caused the rise the rear end of the car, was most likely caused by the front wheel being sheared off by the impact with the curb. The flash and the "rise" of the rear may have been the car rolling over that wheel. 

* There is no strong evidence to support the claim, stated in the coroner's report  (    Here ıs the full report. )  that Hastings was using, or had ever even used the hallucinogenic drug known as DMT.

 * Hastings had expressed an interest in running for political office in the state of Vermont. 

* Hastings had talked of opening a marijuana-themed resort in Vermont, even though he thought that idea would be used against him in his hypothetical run for office. 

* The beginning of the end of the car's fatal path, though not seen on tape, is the slight rise and fall at the crossroads of Highland and Melrose. At the speed the Benz is traveling through that corner. conservatively estimated  at 80 mph, the car rose up on its suspension, came down hard enough to leave marks on the street near the valet station of the Mozza restaurant triplex, and as the video picks up, swerves. 

******* 

In the interview, White presented a rational reason for what was the first major "flash" seen on the security tape that captured the crash. 

"The front driver's side front wheel was completely sheared off in the crash," said White. giving that first flash a possible origin. The wheel hits the curb at high speed, is probably torn off right there and the Mercedes Benz drives over it, causing not only the flash, but also the often-questioned raising of the car's rear end.

White confirmed that very first blip of light on the video is the brakes. The brakes most likely put the car into the swerve that sends it into the curb and ultimately crashing into the palm tree.  

 ***

Hastings was best known for his 2010 Rolling Stone profile of General Stanley McChrystal and his aides who bad-mouthed President Obama and V.P. Biden.  McChrystal was basically fired because of the article.   

McChrystal's army boss was Gen David Petraeus, was later brought in from  the battlefield and became CIA head in September, 2011. But, a scandal, an extra-martial affair with his  biographer, Paula Broadwell, brought him disgrace and he resigned in November, 2012. Reports have surfaced that Hastings was working on a profile of current CIA boss John Brennan.  That combination - McChrystal, Petraeus, Brennan - turbocharged conspiracy theorists.

White said she understood the interest in the death of Hastings and the numerous conspiracy theories put out on the internet. 

But, White once again ruled out any idea a  bomb was placed in the car or any other foul play. "In my investigation, it appears to be that nothing else was going on other than this was a accident. We may never know exactly why  he was speeding, but the speeding caused the crashed. This was, like I have said,  a tragic accident." 

One element of the crash "kinda astonished" White and her fellow investigators and that is the distance the ejected Mercedes Benz CL250 engine was catapulted away from the crashed car, about 170 feet.  

"He had to hit the tree at such speed and at just the right angle for the engine to go that far," said White, a 22-year LAPD veteran who has spent 18 years as a traffic investigator and has never seen anything like that.

"It was amazing," White said. "I don't know any other way to say it besides "amazing".  But, not amzing in a good way." 

NOTE

None of this report will sway -nor is it intended to sway -  anyone away from the belief Michael Hastings was killed by some type of black ops car hacking. A friend of mine told me "what you are writing proves nothing. It sure doesn't prove he wasn't murdered."  I agree, but I had a few more details that those following the case might find of interest. 

. 

.  

White Man Named Black Is BBQ Hero at Party

UGLY DRUM BEATS OUT SOME GOOD LOOKIN' MEAT

August 25, 2013

On the occasion of Larry (Lorenzo) Silverton's 88th birthday, his daughter Gail hosted a small gathering at her Valley Village home where, as a bonus, his 25-day namesake great grandson made his first family party appearance. But, while both Lorenzos were showered with affection, they were not the only subject of effusive praise. Joining them in the glory was hired gun chef Eric Black who prepared a classic feast of barbequed pork ribs, beef brisket, beans, potato salad and  cole slaw that had everyone muttering accolades between bites. 

Black, who is white, and perhaps best known for wearing a bright red t-shirt to the Watts Towers earlier this year, is a former cook at Mozza. Black's passion is barbecue and the spread he put out at Gail Silverton's demonstrated that deliciously . The pork ribs were meaty, tender and smokey, the holy trinity of a good rib. Plus his sauce, Chicago-style he said, was outstanding. I didn't even know Chicago had a sauce, but damn, I ate a couple spoonfuls like it was a soup. 

Black said he cooked them at his apartment in Monrovia in a smoker for four and a half hours before finishing them off at Gail's backyard.  (It should be noted the Monrovia Fire Department received seven false alarms from Black's neighbors during the cooking period)

Black's company is Ugly Drum and he makes "small batch" barbecue, available for private parties and other such events. This is what he says on his website https://uglydrum.squarespace.com/#our-team 

Erik founded Ugly Drum to have an excuse to do what he does anyways...make sausage, smoke   brisket and cook more food than he can eat.  He's worked with Joe at Los Angeles restaurants for over a decade including Campanile, Literati 2, Osteria Mozza and The Spice Table.

Erik's chef de cuisine is Joe Marcos, a mixed martial artist wanted in several countries including his ancestral homeland, the Philippines, for assault.  This man is armed and dangerous so do not attempt to apprehend, but rather call the National Security Administration.   

The Ugly Drum website paints a different portrait of Marcos.  

Joe has been cooking in some of the best restaurant kitchens in Los Angeles for many years.  Besides BBQ, Joe has a real passion for the rustic and honest foods of Spanish tapas.  Last year he created a tapas bar pop-up -- "Bar Plancha" --  where he served inspired Spanish small plates at The Spice Table in Downtown Los Angeles. Great BBQ and great Spanish tapas share the same ingredients of simplicity, tradition and fun. 

The Drum might be Ugly , but the ribs are delicious.

Nancy and Eric Black, who, you may notice, has white smoke coming out of his head. 

Nancy can't even wait for a photo before she cuts in.