Thank Heaven for Culver City
This was the kind of pleasant outing that makes residents glad they live in cozy Culver City rather than bustling, impersonal Midtown Manhattan or Center City, Philadelphia.
Among the roughly twenty persons in the room, including City Hall-types, the civilians were clearly knowledgeable, faithful fans of the Summer Sunset Concert Series, probably forming the early-arriving, front-rows crowd.
They were seated on straight-backed chairs arranged in, to borrow a prizefighting term, a squared circle. Therapeutic strategy, it was. Each person had no choice but to look at everyone else in the room, whether the other people were attractive or not. That is the way it is in a small town. You are obliged to love your neighbor. And here is a nudge if you don’t.
It was not evident whether the participants did or did not like each other. Their seating patterns looked suspicious. They were widely scattered among the dozens of chairs that had been set up.
For early arrivals, or even the tardy ones who deigned to dawdle before sitting down, libations shrewdly were placed near the entrance.
Steve Rose, who serves along with Carol Gross as the City Council’s liaisons for cultural affairs, almost was the first person in the room. He was in the middle of his first coffee when Susan Evans, the Community Development Director, happened along. In mentioning that this was her first visit to the Garden Room, she said the large, west-facing garden window must be lovely in the daylight.
Standing before a vividly etched giant wall mural, depicting pre-modern Culver City, Mr. Rose’s path intersected with Ms. Evans’s. As a historian who knows all that is important about this community, Mr. Rose told her that Julie Lugo Cerra, the city’s official historian, was the artist, surprising Ms. Evans and persons nearby.
Once Ms. Obrow figuratively gaveled the casual meeting to order, the audience rather scattered. In one far corner, seated by themselves at right angles, were Ms. Gross and Ms. Rose. They may have needed smoke signals or carrier pigeons to catch every single word pitched.
Near another corner was the venerable John Riordan of John Riordan Plumbing Inc., one of the town’s leading businessmen and a sponsor of the Summer Sunset Concert Series.
Farther down the row was the recently ubiquitous Ronnie Jayne, musician, commissioner, Democratic Clubber, one of the evening’s most enthusiastic voices.
Still farther along the same row was Stephen Fry, the splendid, supposedly retired, musicologist and the clarion voice of musical notes on happenings each week for the Culver City News.
The well-known activists Robert and Pat Hadley made a participating presence close to Mr. Fry. Bill Reed, a quiet regular around City Hall, was there, too, with a picnic basket full of suggestions.
At a right angle from Mr. Fry was the effervescent Jozelle Smith, a former City Council member, now visible as a weekly Page Three columnist for the Culver City Observer.
Mercifully for all who were double-parked, Ms. Obrow’s meeting only required thirty-five minutes, shorter than a doctor’s visit, markedly less painful, and affordable for even a homeless bum.
Besides, where else could you drop in on a Tuesday night in Culver City and sup a steaming hot Starbucks, from a box yet, at no charge?
She Is the Genuine Article
A year and a half ago, Ms. Obrow came to town when the now-retired stage Director Gordon Davidson and the Center Theatre Group, from downtown Los Angeles, unveiled the professional new look at the Kirk Douglas Theatre on Washington Boulevard.
She works for the city now, and she has been in the community long enough to reasonably conclude that her remarkably upbeat personality, her Cheerleader-for-Life perspective on everything that she surveys, yes, sir, is authentic.
So spirited is Ms. Obrow that she could conduct the Evening Story Hour at any cemetery in town and attract an audience.
As a tempting city-sponsored fillip to get the community in the mood for the summer season, Ms. Obrow announced that the chamber music series, in Council Chambers, returns for five consecutive Friday evenings, beginning Feb. 17.
Truth in Labeling
The gathering was not, however, to be mistaken for an intense huddle between a reputable producer and his anxious-to-impress young staff.
In the end, it is Mr. Mandell who combs a master list of performance artists who are available, affordable and appealing — preferably all three.
The professional, artistic value of such an evening as this one is debated every year around this time. Does anyone believe that a dozen random — but nice — people walking in off the street will significantly shape the performing lineup this summer?
Likelier, when Mr. Mandell returned to his office at Boulevard Music on Sepulveda Boulevard, he brought mental notes, rather than musical notes, of the suggestions proffered.
The popular Nightblooming Jazzmen were the only group specifically mentioned, along with seven or eight musical genres, mariachi, big bands, rock, Hawaiian, cajun, classical, salsa and mixes of ethnic strains.
Your move, Mr.Mandell.
