One of those people everyone likes

Art La Shelle was the definition of aplomb. In a town noted for its

casual style, he was the epitome of elegance. Not for him a T-shirt

and a pair of shorts. He wouldn’t even stoop to a polo shirt and a

pair of Balboa Blues.

For those too young to remember them, Balboa Blues were the local

version of Levis, men’s heavy cotton pants in a muted cerulean blue.

They were the staple of my wardrobe until they disappeared from store

shelves, probably some time in the late 1950s.

La Shelle wouldn’t have been caught dead in a pair of Balboa

Blues, no matter how ubiquitous among the local hoi polloi. No. La

Shelle always wore a neatly tailored jacket and slacks, with the

accent of a flowing white silk scarf, a la the Red Baron.

He cut a debonair picture as he drove down Balboa Boulevard in an

ancient open car, not a Stanley Steamer, but something almost as old,

the white scarf fluttering in the breeze. Certain locals made bets on

the scarf getting caught in the wheels and La Shelle getting his neck

broken, but it never happened.

La Shelle and his partner Joe Gaudio started a restaurant on

Catalina, Christian’s Hut. It was so successful that they decided to

open one here, which they did on the bay, a little way up from

Newport Landing. It quickly became the place to go.

I don’t remember that the food was anything outstanding, but the

restaurant didn’t need good food. It had La Shelle, who was one of

those people whom everyone liked. At some point, Gaudio disappeared

from the scene, but it didn’t make any difference to the success of

the restaurant because La Shelle was there, greeting everyone who

entered, circulating and, just by his presence, making the place seem

exciting and glamorous.

In line with the theme, there was huge Tiki outside the front

entrance, taller than the roof. One night, a customer who had had a

few too many drinks decided that the Tiki reminded him of Mt. Everest

and decided to climb it just “because it was there.” Up he shinnied

with the marvelous balance of the truly drunk.

Once up, he sat atop his perch and began abusing everyone who came

by. La Shelle came out and suggested he come down, but the drunk was

having no part of it. He had reached the summit and he was going to

stay there.

La Shelle summoned the police, who ordered the drunk down and got

a stream of abuse for their efforts. Since climbing wasn’t part of

their repertoire, they called for the fire department.

The firemen sized up the situation and then pulled out their

ladders, leaned them up against the tiki and scrambled up. The

largest among them grabbed the protesting drunk, threw him over his

shoulder, climbed down the ladder and handed the drunk over to the

police, who promptly took him off in a squad car.

Of course, after that, scaling the Tiki became the goal of every

Christian’s Hut patron who had had a few too many fancy rum drinks.

A similar tradition was carried on years later at Reuben’s, where

the challenge was to see how many of the big leather bar chairs one

could carry out without the manager noticing. I could name the title

holder, but I won’t because he has since climbed the 12 steps and

probably doesn’t want to be reminded of certain facets of his past.

As the Tiki became more of a magnet, La Shelle decided to hire a

bouncer to get rid of the drunks before they clambered up the Tiki.

He hired Don Vaughn for the job. Don did his part and more. Not only

did he throw the drunks out, he took advantage of the Christian’s Hut

location, marching them out of the restaurant and out onto the

adjoining wharf, where he tossed them in the bay. If you got out of

line at Christian’s Hut, you’d better have known how to swim.

La Shelle’s success wasn’t limited to Christian’s Hut. Somehow,

and no one could ever figure out how or why, during World War II, La

Shelle ended up running an officers’ club for the British in the

China-Burma-India theater.

I was in the Pacific during the war, and every so often I would

run into a contingent of Brits. We’d exchange information, and when

they found out where I was from, the first thing they always asked

was, “Do you know Art La Shelle?”

When I said I did, I could never buy another drink. Such was the

magic of his personality.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.