One of those people everyone likes
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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.
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