Big Birthday Bashes : Garden ‘Irregulars’ Toast Caretaker’s Serendipity

The “regular irregulars” of Dante’s View gathered in strength Sunday to celebrate the 80th birthday of the man who has presided over a decade of impromptu champagne and potluck breakfasts in the secluded garden at the summit of the mountains of Griffith Park.

To get to the party, about 60 people lugged their coolers or hitched rides in city Park Service trucks up a winding, one-mile road to Dante’s View, a retreat of eucalyptus, pine, pepper and palm trees as well as the more exotic flowering plum, liquid amber and ginkgo.

It is owned by the City of Los Angeles, but thrives under the stewardship of Charlie Turner, who has shown up there almost every day for the past decade.

Following his habit of every Sunday, wiry, sun-tanned Charlie stood at the entrance to greet every person who arrived.

His friends spread their festive tables under a blue tarpaulin and toasted the man who has brought their lives together by serendipity. To show their gratitude, they chipped in and bought Charlie an airplane ticket to Paris.

As usual, Charlie wore corduroy shorts, jogging shoes, a yellow tennis hat and a blue T-shirt with “Charlie” written across the front. He had come the long way, up a four-mile trail that he hikes every day to the little-known, mountaintop retreat.

As his friends arrived or left, they gave Charlie long hugs. The women kissed him.

One man brought his wife over to kiss Charlie for a photo.

“Kiss again, Charlie,” he said after snapping one shot.

“It’s just unbelievable,” Charlie said.

Unofficial Caretaker

Charlie is the unofficial caretaker and director of Dante’s View.

He didn’t create the job. He inherited it.

The garden was planted in the 1960s by a Brazilian-born Italian named Dante Orgolini.

First, Dante brought a shovel and a few trees in a bucket. Then he bought a pickup. Eventually, he had created an arboretum amid the native chaparral of Mount Hollywood.

Dante is remembered as a man of intense emotions who announced himself to all who entered his garden, bowed to kiss the hand of every lady and frequently showed his feelings with outpourings of tears.

One day, Charlie walked in.

Charlie was born in Liverpool, moved to Canada when he was 21 and arrived in Los Angeles in the early 1950s. He discovered Dante’s View by accident while hiking in Griffith Park.

Began Helping Dante

A decade ago, he started helping Dante, whose health was beginning to fail.

“Charlie was really kind of second in command here,” said Dante’s son, Arnold Orgolini, who came to celebrate Charlie’s birthday.

When Dante died in 1978, Charlie became first in command.

Charlie cemented a bronze plaque onto a stone in memory of Dante. He regularly watered Dante’s trees and planted more.

From his home nearby in Hollywood he walked four miles to the park every day to keep things shipshape.

‘Regular Irregulars’

He also presided over the weekly gatherings of a growing claque of people who regularly walk to Dante’s View on the dozens of trails crisscrossing Griffith Park.

He describes his friends as his “regular irregulars.” Usually one or two dozen show up for the weekly picnic. The ones who don’t come every Sunday usually show up on party dates, Charlie said.

Sunday, the whole group showed up.

It is a varied set. The majority are men and women in their 40s and 50s who hike in Griffith Park for relaxation and conditioning. Many speak with the accents of European countries. But there are also teen-agers and young couples with small children.

Their only common link is Dante’s View and Charlie’s spell.

Celebrate Birthday

“What they know about Charlie--not much,” said Russian-born Leon Anchelevich, trying to capture in broken English the phenomenon of Charlie Turner. “But at the same time, they come to his birthday and they will celebrate with each other for Charlie.”

Anchelevich said he believes Americans have a strong desire to communicate with one another, but are inhibited by their fears.

“This crime rate puts fear into people’s lives and people become less sociable. People in this place became free from fear,” Anchelevich said. “Only one place like this in Los Angeles is Dante’s View, where strangers can become together and talk together without fear to be hurt. And just because they know this, they appreciate Charlie.”

Charlie said he didn’t know when he would take the trip to Paris.

‘Not Rushing Into’ Trip

“I’m going to go but I’m not rushing into it,” Charlie said. “I was there right after (World War II). I was in the Canadian Air Force. I got to know it well. In those days I was just chasing girls. I haven’t got those distractions anymore. Now, I will go look at the Louvre and Versailles.”

“Look out for the French girls,” one of Charlie’s friends warned him.

“That’s one reason I never went back,” Charlie said. “I had such a great time and it wouldn’t be the same.”

While Charlie is gone, the care of Dante’s View will fall into the hands of his second in command, Alex Hepner. Like Charlie did with Dante, Hepner, who is 70, just started coming around to help Charlie out.

“We have specialties,” Hepner said. “He gets the kisses, I do the work.”

Kissing and Grubbing

“That’s fair,” said Orville Miller, another regular. “Equally debilitating. If you’re digging and grubbing in the yard, you don’t feel like kissing people. Charlie’s good at that. Alex is good at digging.”

“Nobody knows me, but I’m half of this thing,” Hepner said plaintively. “When Charlie’s gone, I’m it.” Just then, Charlie was saying goodby to a first-time visitor.

“Come back again,” Charlie called out. “It gets easier all the time.”

Charlie looked around Dante’s View as if performing an inspection.

“Since Dante died the trees have gotten so big,” he said.

Someday they’ll be Alex’s trees. But it will always be Dante’s View.