Once June Gloom Burns Off, Visitors Can See Forever -- All the Way to ...

Even if winter has returned in the form of a June Gloom, I’m still hearing reminiscences about confused summer visitors.

Logan Lockabey wrote that he and his pals at Newport Beach used to point to Catalina and tell tourists it was Hawaii. “And on a really clear day when you could see San Clemente Island,” he said, “we told the tourists that they were very lucky because they could see Japan.”

Fashion police statement: Albert Nesbit of Calabasas spotted a rental available to a woman who agrees not to wear a certain outer garment (see accompanying).

Unreal estate: How badly do motorists in Fullerton want that new house? At first glance, they would seem to face a hazardous choice, Sheila Dickinson pointed out (see photo). (Actually, the signs are on a roundabout.)

Landmark mistakes: I spotted a newcomer to Philippe, the 95-year-old eatery with the sawdust floors near Chinatown. A businessman-type who ordered at the counter received his change on the customary small tray. He not only neglected to leave a tip at the counter, as most diners do, but walked off with the tray before his error was pointed out. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was going to leave something at the table where he sat.

I was reminded of another faux pas committed at the downtown Original Pantry Cafe (est. 1924) one evening when the line of folks waiting for a table stretched out onto the sidewalk. One fellow walked up to the front and tried to slip the maitre d’ a couple of dollars to get a place immediately.

The maitre d’ drew back in horror, probably partly out of honesty, but also partly out of fear that if he had taken the money, the people in line would have assaulted him.

Unclear on the concept: While well-meaning, one charity event offered something of an artery-clogging meal, Polly Drucke of Hemet noted (see accompanying).

Billy, do we know ye at all? Don’t know if you’ve heard, but genetic tests are going to be performed to try to determine if Billy the Kid is really buried in Fort Sumner, N.M., as most historians believe, or in Hamilton, Texas, or maybe Prescott, Ariz. Men claiming to be the Kid died in Hamilton and Prescott.

Oddly enough, Billy’s tombstone was in Huntington Beach for a while after a 1981 theft. A trucker, who grew up in New Mexico, admitted he had snatched it and put it in his bedroom because “I just wanted something to remind me of home.”

miscelLAny: Billy the Kid never rode into Southern California, as far as is known. One Wild West outlaw who did, though, was Emmett Dalton, a member of the Dalton Gang. After serving time in prison, he moved to the Los Feliz area in the 1920s, where he resumed taking people’s money. He became a real estate agent.

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Steve Harvey can be reached at (800) LA-TIMES, Ext. 77083; by fax at (213) 237-4712; by mail at Metro, L.A. Times, 202 W. 1st St., L.A. 90012; and by e-mail at steve.harvey@latimes.com.