All About Sue and Jay’s Excellent Midlife Adventure

When Jay and Sue German told friends they were fleeing the Westside for West Adams, the response was predictable: “You’re moving to the ghetto?”

But move they did--into an 85-year-old California Craftsman where, as innkeepers Jay and Sue, they are proprietors of the Salisbury House bed-and-breakfast.

Since embarking on their great midlife adventure almost five years ago, they have survived riots and recession.

It’s been scary, and it’s been hard, Sue says, but “I feel like I’m living in a place that’s alive.”

In Mar Vista, “We did Girl Scouts and all that. I thought that was a neighborhood. But this is an incredible community, so bound up with love and concern for one another.”

The Germans live on West 20th Street, an enclave of big, well-tended old homes in the shadow of urban blight and the kind of unsightly businesses people try to keep out of their neighborhoods.

So what brought the Germans here?

It started with a trip to New Zealand. Smitten with B-and-B’s, they began to fantasize about crackling fires, feather pillows and fascinating people coming to their doorstep.

The youngest of their three children was at college. And, at 45, Jay was jobless, his company having been acquired in a takeover. They decided to go for it.

They considered Maine, toyed with Sacramento. During their yearlong search, a realtor showed them the Salisbury House, so they could see what could be done to these old places.

When it went on the market, furnished, the Germans bought it--lock, stock and stained glass windows--for $350,000.

Then, Sue says, came “the hard part, emotionally. I was suddenly in this place where nothing belonged to me and all these strangers were here.”

Jay remembers it as an unsettling time too. “You’ve exposed yourself and your material beings to strangers. They tell us they’re John Doe. They could be Richard Ramirez.”

But things were going swimmingly--until the riots of 1992. Overnight, Jay says, “People who know where we are weren’t coming here.” Cancellations poured in.

And it’s never come all the way back. When callers ask about the area, Sue is candid. During the riots, there was burning and looting just two blocks away.

“I’d rather not have them come than come and be quaking on the front steps,” Sue says. “This is my home. It hurts me.”

When the heavy old door with the beveled glass pane has closed behind guests, they are in a 3,500-square-foot world of dark-stained wood, Victoriana and lace.

They all want to know where to eat. So, Jay, public-relations director for Claremont Graduate School, has put together “Mr. Grub’s Guide to Largely Good, Cheap Eats.”

The Nestle folks have used the Germans’ big, high-ceilinged kitchen for tollhouse-cookie commercials and the house was seen in “Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story.”

“That ‘Dragon’ shoot got us through the hard times after the riots,” Sue says.

Half a dozen brides, including the Germans’ daughter, Lisa, have been married in Salisbury House or its garden. “In our back yard, you could be in Dubuque,” Jay says. Adds Sue, “If it weren’t for the occasional helicopters.”

The happy surprises have outnumbered the unhappy ones. True, the roof needed repairs, as did the electrical and the plumbing. But, Jay says, this is not “The Money Pit.”

And of course, there have been guests and guests. The Germans won’t soon forget the bunch dressed all in black with white makeup and “lots of piercings.”

The Germans have plunged into community life. Their response to the two-day power outage during the riots? Invite the neighbors to bring over what was in their refrigerators. “We had two really neat parties,” Sue says.

Historically, West Adams was a stable upper-middle-class black community, but white families have been buying and renovating some of the old houses.

“There are occasional little pockets of resentment,” Sue says. “We kind of had to earn our spurs.” Now, Jay adds, “You can’t walk down the street without getting 30 hellos and an offer of a drink.”

The neighborhood association, with Sue as president, has gated off alleys that, she says, “were used for drug dumping and prostitution.” It also has graffiti paint-outs, Easter egg hunts and summer block parties.

“In Mar Vista,” Sue says, “if you heard a police helicopter, everyone locked their doors. Here, everybody goes outside to find out what’s going on--and to see if everybody’s all right.”

Great Gretzkyabilia

For Barry Dvorkin, Aug. 9, 1988--the day Wayne Gretzky was traded from the Edmonton Oilers to the Los Angeles Kings--ranks near the top of his all-time list of notable dates.

“It was a national holiday up here,” recalls Dvorkin, who lives in Calgary, Canada.

Dvorkin, you see, is an avid Calgary Flames fan. He hates the Oilers. “If the Oilers were playing the Russians, I’d be for the Russians.” And, when the Oilers had the great Gretzky, they regularly extinguished the Flames.

So what’s Dvorkin doing traveling around the West with a $25,000 stash of Gretzky memorabilia? Hoping to sell it, that’s what. He recently turned up at a sports-card collectors show in Walnut.

His Gretzkyabilia includes an autographed, game-worn Kings jersey, circa 1990. Rare, Dvorkin says. “Wayne keeps really close track of his stuff.” The most unique item? An invitation to Gretzky’s wedding: “I got it from a friend of a friend, who got it off a guy who’d been there.” (Value: about $1,000).

There’s a game sheet from the game in which Gretzky broke Gordie Howe’s all-time scoring record. “There’s only three of these in existence,” he claims. Dvorkin also brought to Walnut some Gretzky dolls--but without their clothes.

“They gave me a hard time at the border about the doll clothes,” Dvorkin says. “I guess there’s some kind of quota on textiles made in Taiwan. It was silly because they’re toys, but they wouldn’t let me bring them over.”

Think $10,000 is a bit steep for a jersey?

“The day Gretzky retires, you can times two everything,” Dvorkin says. “It’s tough for me to say this, believe me, but everybody knows that Wayne Gretzky is the best hockey player who ever lived.”

This weekly column chronicles the people and small moments that define life in Southern California. Reader suggestions are welcome.