Ghoulish or not, here it is

If you'd like to see a nice aerial survey photograph of Phil Spector's house in Alhambra, go to this link. Select "Large" from the map size selector on the left side of the page for the best view. The house is in the midst of the large triangle of trees in the center of the picture. This house, built by a rich eccentric in the 1920's, was one of the best known landmarks in the area when I was growing up. The building had been converted into seven apartments by that time. I knew some people who lived on the street that runs north from the castle, and from their front yard there was a nice view of the red roofed towers rising at the top of the hill above, poking through a dense growth of pine trees. It was all very romantic.

At the time I left Los Angeles, the building was still an apartment house. While income taxes were high for the rich, those of them who could afford houses this large preferred to have them in neighborhoods of similar houses, not amid the middle income dwellings which make up the remainder of this neighborhood. I think it was the vastly increased incomes and vastly lowered income taxes of the last two decades that sent real estate prices so high, and yet made it once again attractive to the rich to own large mansions, even if these were in out-of-the-way locations. Apparently, that is what happened to the castle apartments. At any rate, the building was returned to what it had been when it was first built-- the home of a rich eccentric, though this one is most likely a murderer. It was always a famous building among the local people. Now it will be notorious to many more.

X Rated Cacaphony

The raccoons are mating. They are running about the neighborhood (and those fat little buggers can run fast when the mood strikes them), chasing one another up and down trees, screeching and squabbling, and generally making a spectacle of themselves. The night echoes with their racket. This sets the neighborhood dogs to barking, and the noise intensifies. In mating season, raccoons are worse than cats! I'm glad I don't have to sleep at night. The horny little beasts being nocturnal, themselves, I can get some rest after they've worn themselves out copulating 'till dawn. Listening to them makes me nostalgic for the Sunset Strip on a Friday night, though. That's the only other place I know of where sex is this noisy.