From the Los Angeles Daily Times, July 5, 1905
THRONG STORMS FAIR VENICE.
Day of Many Charms at New City by the Sea.
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Thousands Attend Assembly and Swimming Races.
Sky at Night Ablaze With Lamps and Fireworks.
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VENICE, July 4 — From the early hours of morning the electric [street]cars from three directions and by five different routes poured an endless stream of humanity upon this beach.
The crowd . . . was variously estimated at from 25,000 to 40,000, and the estimate does not seem far out of rthe way when it is considered tht an electric train left Los Angeles for this beach every three minutes during the day.
There seemed to be no diminution of the crowd on Windward Avenue , Ocean Front and the pier, when 5,000 persons were listening to the band concert in front of the amphitheater and wile still another 5,000 occupied every foot of standing room in the Auditorium.
The exercises of the day opened at 9:30 with a band concert in the Auditorium by the Venice band.
While this was in progress, the Ocean Park Celebration Committee arrived at the head of a large delegation and participated with the Venetians in the enjoyment of the musical and literary programme . . . .
President B. Fay Mills of the Venice Assembly . . . was followed by the children’s choir of 400 voices. . . .
Rev. F.H. Post offered a prayer, Richard Buehler of Los Angeles gave a patriotic reading of the “Star-Spangled Banner,” and Sydney Wrightson sang “A Thousand Years, My Own Columbia.”
The children sang “Hail Columbia” and the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” in chorus; Mrs. Adams-Fisher spoke on “Old Glory Around the World,” Geneva Johnstone Bishop sang “His Buttons Are Marked ‘U.S.’” and the audience joined in a grand chorus of “America.”
The speaker of the day was William F. Smythe . . . [on] “The Influence of Theodore Roosevelt on the Future of the Republic.”
“Theodore Roosevelt,” said Mr. Smythe . . ., “stands for the undefied purpose of the American people to protect their standard of living from degradation at the hands of plutocracy and to protect their political liberties from overthrow by the unholy alliance of organized wealth and organized politics.”
SWIMMING AND MUSIC
In the afternoon there was a band concert on the banks of the grand canal, during the progress of the second annual swimming tournament of the Southern California Swimming Association. . . .
A man overboard off the Windward pier . . . came near to giving Venice its first fatal accident. An electrical wireman was working on a pole when he lost his balance and dropped into twenty feet of water.
A good swimmer chanced to be near and pulled the heavily weighted electrician from the water as he was sinking for the third time.
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The evening . . . opened with a brilliant instantaneous electrical illumination in variegated colors of Windward Avenue, the canals and all of
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the main buildings of the Venetian conception.
This was followed by a superb pyrotechnic display on the banks of the mammoth bathing pool. The programme of aerial salutations consisted of balloons with fiery trails of rockets, mines, shells and jewels.
There was a magnificent illumination of the bathing pool and canals. . . . The culmination was a magnificent set piece representing the Rialto of Venice, Italy, and showing moving gondolas of fire.
This was followed by “Good Night” emblazoned across the waters. . . .
[A dance] . . . continued in the Auditorium until the stars had commenced to perform their service of pinning back the curtains of the night.
ALONG THE STRAND
Yesterday was pay day among the workingmen of Venice, and no less than fifteen hundred laborers were given their checks. Money flowed free as water since, during the work of the past few weeks, the average carpenter has been able to draw at least $40 per week, counting overtime and flexible time.
Without ceremony or demonstration, the surf and shower bath house opened its doors and accommodated the hundreds. This building has 250 rooms.
The large bath house and plunge will be ready in a few days. It contains 630 rooms and faces the swimming pool.
During the afternoon the ladies served tea while the tennis tourney was in progress at the Clubhouse.
The Venice fire fighters, a company of 25 men, was on duty all day and evening, but were not called upon.
The beach is protected night and day by a Pinkerton patrol of a dozen uniformed officers.
The decorations of the streets and buildings were elaborate and beautiful. More than 3,000 flags fluttered from every point of vantage . . . .
A fife and drum corps from the Soldiers’ Home gave a martial air to the occasion.
The wheel chair has made its appearance on the board walks.
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10 a.m. — Exhibition programme and presentation of the Cumnock School, the School of Fine Arts and the Nature Study School.
11:15 a.m. — Continued representation of the “Customs of Japan,” Miss Frank Miller of New York.
2 to 4 p.m. — Band concert at the grand stand.
4:30 p.m. — Second organ recital by Clarence Eddy, with solos by Mrs. Grace Dickman, at the Auditorium.
8 p.m. — Opening stereopticon lecture, by Prof. Jerome H. Raymond of Chicago, “Constantinople: Despotism and Disintegration.”
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From the Los Angeles Daily Times, July 5, 1905
NEW STAR IN FIRMAMENT.
Miss Peralta Shining Among Tennis Experts.
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For the second day of the Ocean Park tennis tourney, society was out in fluffy white, and bunches of pretty dames watched with ever-increasing interest the excellent work of the contestants, most of whom were on their mettle and in fine form.
The Country Club grounds were graced with a pleasing array of beauty, and a feature of the sport this year is the number of young women seen for the first time in a tournament.
Though several of the old stars are missed and the places of May Sutton, Alphonso Bell and Trow Hendricks are hard to fill, the management is conducting a series of games that is claiming the attention of expert racket men. . . .
The ladies’ singles have been far more interesting than in former years, and though the Sutton girls will undoubtedly take the first honors as they have done in previous contests, the playing of several of the coming stars among the pretty dames has made the Pasadena girls look carefully to their laurels.
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Eleanor Peralta, a typical tennis girl with a wealth of dark hair that somehow stays becomingly in place in spite of the many twists and curves of the game, has won honor in the ladies’ lists by successfully retiring all comers. Her graceful racket has earned for her a second place to Florence and Violet Sutton, who will today decide first honors. . . .
The style of this young player is distinctly her own and, while not so rapid as the Sutton sisters, her serve is strong and her net work is superior to that of most of the local talent in her class. . . .
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Prior to the turn of the century, tennis was primarily a pastime of upper-class socially prominent leaders. In Southern California the few tournaments held were connected with large resort hotels and the teas, social gatherings and victory balls were as important as the matches.
Emerging from this social milieu were several young women with exceptional tennis skills including Violet, Ethel, Florence, and May Sutton, Elizabeth Ryan and Mary K. Browne. With the arrival of these athletes, tennis changed from a game of little friendly courtesies between “pretty” and “nice” contenders to a major event reported on the sports pages rather than society sections of local newspapers.
This change was due to the combination of socio-cultural factors and the athletic abilities of Southern California’s outstanding women players.
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From the Los Angeles Daily Times, July 5, 1905
Casualty List Not Very Long.
Burned Hands and Faces Tell of Great Joy.
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It was a day of jubilee, as the pile of severed fingers and thumbs, scraps of burnt cuticle and fragments singed hair and eyebrows amassed by the police surgeons at the Receiving Hospital eloquently testify.
The maimed and wounded began to come in at an early hour and continued with the clockwork regularity of “next” at a barber shop on Saturday night . . . .
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It was a case of cannon.
Johnnie Chamberlain, who was burned and scorched about the head, hands and legs, told the story becasue he was better able to move his jaw than Albert Rabine, both juvenile residents of Chavez Ravine.
“The cannon went off all right, for a while,” said Johnny painfully, while Albert might have looked his approval had he been able to open the tightly closed eyes swelling out from his blistered, beet-colored face, from which every eye winker and brow had been cleanly singed.
“But after awhile it wouldn’t work. Albert he got down in front of the cannon and peeked in to see what was the matter. An’ I looked into the little hole in the hind end, an’ just then it worked again, an’ that’s all there was to it.”
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“I didn’t throw it quick enough,” said C.E. Bourland, a youngster living at No.
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208 S. Olive Street , referring to the giant cracker which took off the middle finger of his left hand and badly scorched his hands, arms and face.
Out at 22nd and Oak Streets, a pretty young woman was busily engaged in firing giant crackers for the benefit of her little nephew. When one of the crackers failed to explode, she picked up a hatchet and . . . chopped the cracker open to ascertain the difficulty. She found out.
The hatchet was blown a hundred feet away and the lady in the opposite direction. . . .
Swift and terrible was the punishment for the carelessness of Frank Rasche, a 15-year-old boy of No. 726 E. Ninth St. .
By the explosion in his pocket of a bottle of chloride of potassium and sulphur, the lad was fearfully burned and lacerated about the legs and lower abdomen, a square foot or more of cuticle [skin] was burned to a crisp, his left eye was shattered, four teeth were knocked out, and he lost all the fingers of his left hand. . . .
Young Rasche had mixed the infernal compound for the purpose of strewing it on the [street]car tracks and thus adding to the noise of the day’s celebration. . . .
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Thinking that the carnage had gone far enough, Capt. [Walter H.] Auble lined up the 4 o’clock police detail for special instructions.
“I want you to stop this firing of big bums on the city streets,” he said.
A puzzled expression blossomed down the entire line of roundsmen. “Which big bums,” queried an officer timidly.
“All big bums,” replied the captain.
“What do you call bums?” ventured another as though loath to show his ignorance.
“Firecrackers,” snapped the captain shortly. “And after midnight I want you to see to it that all shooting of fireworks ceases.”
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• Los Angeles history
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