Where there are stock traders there’s smoke...
Where there are stock traders there’s smoke . . . : The old Pacific Coast Stock Exchange building on Spring Street was the scene of a historic, though little-noticed, reform around 1980--one that would seem trendy today. It grew out of an atmospheric problem on the trading floor. “From time to time,” recalls KNX reporter Jere Laird, “there’d be some smoke and a terrible acrid smell, like something was burning. We didn’t actually have any fires but we had several evacuations and the Fire Department came out a few times.”
An investigation eventually determined that the mysterious condition was caused by traders who were flinging their cigarettes on the floor, rather than stubbing them out in ashtrays, as they paced back and forth during hectic sessions. The embers were falling into floor ventilator shafts, igniting lint and other materials inside.
So it was that the Stock Exchange became what apparently was Downtown L.A.’s first no-smoking office building--a tradition that continues in the new location on Beaudry Avenue.
Of course, this policy doesn’t prevent investors from occasionally getting burned.
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Mind games?: Larry Ballard, spotting the accompanying ad for a Psychic Fair, concludes: “Everything after the first day is deja vu. “
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His personal freeway collapse: No sooner did Curtiss Briggs package some chunks of the collapsed I-10 and label them “Actual Santa Monica Freeway Rubble . . . 6.6,” than the magnitude was upgraded to 6.8.
“It was hard to convince store owners that they would sell anyway because people didn’t care about the magnitude,” the Santa Monica entrepreneur said.
He says he sold about 800 bags himself and donated $670 of the proceeds to the Red Cross. But he’s stuck with 400 bags of rubble. Attractively packaged, but rubble nevertheless.
So he’s embarked on a new venture: “Actual Santa Monica Frwy Rubble Refrigerator Magnitudes.”
The magnets, which cost about $5, come with an attachable list--”27 Things to Help You Survive an Earthquake.”
They’re on sale at disaster preparedness shops in both the Sherman Oaks and Glendale Gallerias, among other stores.
“I see them as a cross between a Pet Rock and a piece of the Berlin Wall,” the proud creator said.
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Escorts Rn’t Us: A colleague of ours was rushing his pregnant wife to Cedars-Sinai Hospital in L.A. when he became mired in traffic on La Cienega Boulevard. A CHP officer pulled up alongside him at a red light.
“Hey, I’ve got a pregnant woman in labor,” our colleague said. “Is the traffic this bad all the way up to Cedars-Sinai?”
The officer replied, “I don’t know--I don’t work this sector,” and pulled away.
Fortunately, Kayla Anne Abrahamson, all 6 pounds and 14 ounces of her, waited until her parents reached the hospital before making her entrance into the world.
miscelLAny:
Dr. Who, an Arlington, Tex., tattoo artist, recently told the Dallas Morning News how he would remove the “Tom” and “Rosie” decorations from the rumps of Roseanne and Tom Arnold, respectively, if asked. Which didn’t really interest us. But what we found fascinating was that the artist terms himself a “dermagraphic illustrator.” We wouldn’t needle him about that term if we were you.
