Location: 350 Clay Street
Date: June 3, 1946

In the not-quite-twelve hours since John M. Kelly was discharged from the Marine Corps, he somehow took up with Henry Ehlert, 44, and Dwight C. Lester, 23, of this address and John Graham, 43, a Naval chief petty officer stationed in San Diego.

Kelly's first night as a civilian was a notable one: he and his pals drew the attention of Traffic Officer F.J. Rees, investigating reports of a holdup in an alley between Main and Spring, and when Kelly made a funny move when ordered to put 'em up, Rees shot half his face off.

Location: 360 South Hill Street
Date: September 15, 1910

The anonymous rooming house cyanide suicide seemed calculated to deliver himself into an unmarked pauper's grave, but a last impulse led him to pen a letter of farewell to his mother. He did not name her, but addressed the envelope with their hometown, Benkelman, Nebraska. A telegraph to the postmaster of that burg soon brought the reply: the dead man was one Judson Graves, 35, from a good family but for some time bumming broke around the west. His sorrowful mother has asked Dr. Lockwood of Pasadena to go to Pierce Brothers and claim the body, and ship it home for burial.

Location: 360 South Hill Street
Date: June 29, 1931

Mrs. W.H. Gadd of this address (presumably a relation of manager S.J.) was driving near 12th Street and Burlington Avenue when a couple of boyish creeps hopped onto her running board, shoved guns in the window and demanded the two fabulous rings on her left hand. She obliged, and later told police the crooks had stolen paste, and gosh, isn't it amazing how good a $2 ring looks these days?

Location: 360 South Hill Street
Date: July 11, 1932

Mrs. L. Blanchard, 67, left her apartment for a carefree evening at the shore, but had a lousy time. According to Officer Maxwell, Venice PD, he heard a woman screaming and ran to Ocean Front and Brooks Avenue, where he found Mrs. Blanchard holding her injured shoulder. Unconscious in the sand was Eugene Allison, 22, who Mrs. Blanchard explained had taken poison and, in his frenzy, bitten her. We can only assume this odd May-December pair knew each other from the neighborhood (Blanchard lived at 360 South Hill, Allison at 337 South Olive). Allison was sent to General Hospital, and there is no further report on his condition.

Location: 360 South Hill Street
Date: July 25, 1932

Mrs. Blanche Hill, a recent widow who had suffered two paralytic strokes, killed herself with gas in her apartment. The smell alerted manager S.J. Gadd, who shimmied over the transom, but was too late to save the lady.

As an addendum to my Angels Flight post, below, I got to thinking about AF’s relationship to cinema after OnBunkerHill'r John wrote to the other contributors:

How many of you have seen the 1965 film, "Angel's Flight"? Here is how the program of the Egyptian Theater's 2006 Film Noir film festival described it:

Angels Flight—everybody’s favorite FUNicular—is there a more iconic piece of Bunker Hilliana? All aboard! proclaims the city of LA!

But don’t get too excited. It’s not open, so you’re not riding it today. Despite what you may hear, you’re not riding it anytime soon.

Toodle down Hill Street between 3rd and 4th and eavesdrop on the guy with the clipboard, yelling at the zinc oxide’d folk, and get the five-cent explication:

Location: 300 Block Hill Street
Date: September 1, 1934

We cannot know how many times mechanic Herbert Stockwell gazed from his window at 316 Clay Street over the steps adjoining the Angels Flight Railway and dreamed, but this was the night he partook of some liquid courage and attempted to drive down the steps. He crashed about 50 feet shy of Hill Street, knocking his teeth out and bloodying his nose, and was discovered wandering confusedly by Officer Hull. Hull took him to Georgia Street police station, where Stockwell was charged with grand theft auto and drunk driving. The wrecked car belonged to Doris George, wife of a physician in the Black Building at Fourth and Hill.

a container for all buildings on the 300 block of Hill.