People Take a Break for Music, Shopping, Beach

They went to the beach. They strolled through public gardens. And yes, they went shopping, because, as Veronica Saldana said at South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, “Shoes are always soothing.”

Five numbing days after terrorists knocked down the World Trade Center and punched a gaping hole in the Pentagon, Southern Californians ventured out in search of normality.

“I think we need to move on with our lives. We need to show them [the terrorists], we’re not going to stay in our homes, we’re not going to give in,” said Gabriela Contreras, 31, of Ontario, echoing a familiar sentiment during a visit to Universal Studios.

What they found was that everything had changed and nothing had changed. Stores were empty at the Asian Garden Mall in Orange County. The fireworks were canceled at the Hollywood Bowl. At Saturday’s opening of the opera “Lohengrin” at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, people arrived in the same numbers, in the usual clothes, and drank the requisite amount of champagne.

“But you know, the face of the people is not the same,” said Miguel Andrade, the valet supervisor. “I know these people, because I have worked here for seven years. I always see the same people, the regular customers. I look at their faces, and they’re different.”

But for many people, that was exactly the sort of despondency they were trying to get away from.

At the Hollywood Bowl, the biggest challenge for orchestra conductor John Mauceri was how to reflect onstage the nation’s mood. Earlier in the week, crowds were down, but by the weekend they were average. “America was a very different place on Tuesday than it was Friday,” Mauceri said backstage at Saturday’s concert.

Mauceri sensed the audience was looking to him for comfort and he wasn’t sure he was up to it. “I’m not the mayor, I’m not the president--what do I say?” he said.

In the end, it was all right. When he played the national anthem, “the audience wouldn’t stop applauding.”

At the Irvine Improv, the audience for the first comedy show of the night filled about half the room. The headliner was comedian Ralph Harris, who had a rocky start, calling the audience “shellshocked,” and “numb.”

But he felt proud he could cheer them up.

“It makes me feel like I’m some sort of doctor,” he said. His biggest problem? “There’s nobody to cheer me up,” he said.

Many people found hope and comradeship in a church or temple, many of which overflowed with worshipers.

At Our Lady of the Pillar Church, a Roman Catholic sanctuary in Santa Ana, people were forced to stand in the parking lot. Several thousand filled All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena at both morning services, and television monitors were set up in an adjoining parish hall.

Service at Center Jammed with 1,500

The 8 a.m. service at the Agape International Spiritual Center is rarely packed, but on Sunday the service at the nondenominational center in Culver City was jammed with 1,500 people. Many, like Dr. William Weathers, couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last had been to a religious service.

“I’m shocked and still in a state of disbelief,” he said, as his line inched into the service.

“I need to comprehend and make sense out of this tragedy, and it hasn’t been easy.”

Steve Smith, a recent New York transplant, didn’t want to feel alone and helpless. “I wanted to be around people,” he said. “I didn’t want to find myself sitting in front of the television.”

A Native American powwow offered a different kind of spiritual sustenance. Organizers of the Everything is Sacred Pow-Wow in Newbury Park considered canceling, but decided to dedicate the ceremony to victims of the terrorist attacks and to soldiers who may go into battle. Men holding an American flag and a Native American eagle stick led a parade of dancers across the grass at Borchard Park.

“It’s the way we look at life as Native Americans. Death and life is one circle,” said Arley Washington.

Some people sought refuge in nature’s enduring tranquillity. Oleg Bernov, a Russian native living in Venice, went to Santa Monica Beach. “The ocean is just so huge,” said the 37-year-old member of a rock band. “It has healing abilities. You’re nothing compared to the ocean.”

Jennifer Herbert’s trip with friends to the Huntington Library’s Japanese gardens in San Marino was her first outing since the disaster. “I’ve been glued to the television and looking forward to this day,” she said.

Her friends were Arabic. Even the serenity of the gardens could not dispel the sour taste of an experience Dalia Seleem, a dentist, had with a patient earlier in the week.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” the patient said.

Admiring the koi swimming in the amber water, she said, “We’re just trying to stay as far away from reality as possible.”

If that’s what you want, few places can compete with a golf course. Green River’s two courses in the foothills of the Cleveland National Forest were packed, as usual for a weekend. The parking lot was full, and there was a wait at the first tee.

But to judge by the traffic at South Coast Plaza, plenty of people find normality in the aisles of a store. “We’re immensely busy,” said Rachael Guzman, the shop manager at Aveda, which sells skin and hair care products.

“A lot of our customers said the reason they shopped today is because they needed the distraction.”

Saldana was one. “This is something that makes me feel good personally,” said the Aliso Viejo administrative assistant, pointing to a bag filled with a small lamp with a red shade, chocolate candy, a blue patchwork pattern teddy bear and some shampoo and conditioner. “Plus it helps the economy,” she said with a smile.

People were also finally queuing up at Gladstone’s seafood restaurant at Universal CityWalk. General Manager Laura Snyder sent waiters home earlier in the week because business had been so slow. But Saturday night, there was a wait for tables in the 550-seat restaurant. Couples laughed over martinis and tossed peanut shells on the floor.

“Tonight we’re feeling good,” Snyder said. “The week was tough.”

In a meeting before Saturday night’s shift, Snyder encouraged her staff to do all they could to lift customers’ spirits. One of the ways they did that was to switch the bar’s three televisions from the news networks to ESPN. “Anybody who wanted to come out--they probably don’t want to be watching the news,” Snyder said.

The hot property at Video All-stars on San Fernando Mission Boulevard in the Valley was “The Man Who Saw Tomorrow.” The subject is 16th century astrologer Michel Nostradamus, who, according to some interpretations, predicted that World War III would begin in the Middle East.

“We’ve had all kinds of calls from people looking for that,” store manager Robert Nam said.

Sometimes people looked inside themselves and were surprised at the changes. Beth Moore, 40, of Pasadena, described herself as a “universalist” who has shunned nationalism as a form of arrogance.

Yet on Saturday, she stood in the middle of a store trying to choose from a display of red, white and blue--ribbons, banners and flags. “Things are different now,” she said.

Patriotism also swelled in Orange County’s Little Saigon, a refugee community familiar with war.

“I want to go to war,” declared Hung Tran, 62, of Garden Grove, pushing a shopping cart through the aisles of the Little Saigon Supermarket. He was an officer in the South Vietnamese military until he was captured by the communists in 1975 and sent to a “re-education camp” for nine years.

“I have the experience. I want to fight for our country, but no one will take me because I’m too old.”

If there was one nearly universal change in people as they returned to errands and restaurants, it was the unaccustomed courtesy, even generosity, they displayed toward one another.

“Everybody is being so nice,” said Laurel Crary, a spokesman for the Beverly Center. “It’s amazing, people are going out of their way to acknowledge each other and show common courtesy. It’s so nice to see.”

Steve Lampe, 38, of Sherman Oaks decided to go ahead with a long planned garage sale.

He noticed the same thing. “I don’t know if it’s a coincidence,” he said, “but people feel less like haggling. Everyone wants to be united and friendly.”

Because grief has no calendar, some people were not so sure they should be out and about so soon.

“We still don’t want to be out enjoying ourselves,” said Moore, who was taking a morning walk with her husband.

“But we are saturated with the media. We don’t feel we can take in any more.”

Even watching volleyball at San Buenaventura State Beach in Ventura County, the tragedy was seldom out of anyone’s mind.

“No matter where you are, what you are doing, you can’t get this out of your head entirely,” said Tim Harris.

Some Recommend Resuming Normal Life

Some people with grim experience, however, said the only thing to do is to resume normal life, and seek the same things you always have.

“War has now come to America, but we’re still going to need to eat, we’re still going to need entertainment, we’re still going to need culture,” said Antonella Seeman, 45, a visitor at the Huntington Library.

She lived in France during periods of terrorist attacks, when every trash can in Paris seemed as if it might hold a bomb.

“The fabric of our lives has been torn,” agreed her husband, Roland. “But the day-to-day things won’t change. We’ll still do what we like to do.”

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Times staff writers Matt Surman, Massie Ritsch, John L. Mitchell, Stephanie Chavez, Jerry Hicks and Timothy Hughes contributed to this story.