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Celebrity Homes in Palm Springs: An Incomplete Guide

April 9, 2012

Nearly every time I go out for a morning run, I see a double-decker bus jammed full of tourists with fancy cameras. And then I have to stop and let them take my photo and it’s totally embarrassing.

No, that last part is not true.

The bus full of tourists part, however, is real. And it got me wondering, what in the heck are they looking at?

I already knew this central Palm Springs neighborhood is home to swanky digs and architectural gems. And I knew celebrities and Hollywood legends made this area their playground. I just didn’t exactly where, who or what.

So I did some googling and came up with a list of addresses. (This Southern California hiking site was a tremendous resource. Thanks!) Then I grabbed my iPhone for some jogging and shooting.

This is not a comprehensive list by any means. They’re just some of the fun celeb homes I run past every day. (OK, OK. Three times a week.) And I still have at least a dozen more to photograph. So stay tuned for part 2!

Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell • 550 Via Lola

This house is one of my favorites. Doesn’t it look so breezy and fun, just like the stars who lived there?

Debbie Reynolds • 670 Stevens Road

This house is perched on top of a tiny but steep hill. If you hold your computer up to your ear and listen hard enough, you might be able to hear me wheezing.

Elvis Presley • 845 Chino Canyon

Unattractive black fence. White rocks that look like the bubbles on a stagnant pond. CREEPY ELVIS FACE. What’s not to love?

Elvis and Priscilla Honeymoon Hideaway (WARNING: There’s music on that link) • 1350 Ladera Circle

I’ve heard a lot of people say this home is tacky, but I think it’s a charming, unapologetic throwback. Living here would be like having Tomorrowland in your living room.

Marilyn Monroe • 1326 Rose Ave.

This home wins the prize for the most difficult to photograph. It’s located surprisingly close to the street and isn’t gated or anything. But there’s SO MUCH SHRUBBERY. And I always seemed to be there when the sun was in the worst possible position. So excuse the weirdo color — but it just adds to the classic 1950s aesthetic, no?

Otherwise, it’s an adorable little home. I can easily imagine Marilyn padding around the yard in a silky robe with sexy bedhead.

Nat King Cole • 1258 Rose Ave.

Again, there’s a whole lotta landscaping goin’ on.

Ronald and Nancy Reagan • 369 Hermosa Place

Stately, conservative and totally California. I would expect no less.

Clark Gable • 222 Chino Dr.

Frankly my dear, I do give a damn. It’s just so pretty! And pink!

Sammy Davis Jr. • 444 Chino Dr.

The parties that must have gone down here. Can you imagine?

Cyd Charisse and Tony Martin • 1197 Monte Vista

Dean Martin • 1123 Monte Vista

Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy • 776 Mission Road

I didn’t want to run up to the gate and stick my phone through the fence to get a better photo. Especially since someone was home at the time. Just trust me, this house is everything you’d expect of Katharine the Great.

Sydney Sheldon • 425 Via Lola

Undergoing a second draft.

Howard Hughes • 335 Camino Norte

What? You can see the home of a famous recluse from the street?

NO! Of course not.

There’s actually a great big wall around this place, bigger than what you’d find at most prisons. But I jumped really high, held my phone up in the air and hoped for the best.

Liberace • 1441 N. Kaweah Road

I love this place. I mean, not for me. But it’s so … Liberace, all the way from the lion statues to the piano mailbox.

Coming soon: Jack Benney, Zsa Zsa, Frank, Bing and Lucy!

A Walk in the Dark

April 8, 2012

I wanted to take my dog for a walk. I spent the whole day inside finishing an assignment, and I desperately needed to stretch my body.

“I’ll go with you,” The Husband said. “It’s dark.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m wearing white clothes so cars can see me.”

“Let me go with you,” he said.

“No, no. The moon is full.”

“Let me go with you.”

And so I did.

Palm Springs is always quiet, but once you get off the main street, our neighborhood is particularly still. That’s why the man was immediately out of place.

The Husband and I were on the outskirts of a park. The man was across the street, crouched on the ground, outside of a low brick wall. He hammered something. The metal-on-metal sound was almost like a lighter that had run out of fuel — “flick, flick, flick” — but deeper, heavier, more resonance.

The Husband and I both craned our necks to get a better look at the guy. And that’s when he turned and looked back at us. Terror ricocheted through my body. Suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

“WALK,” said The Husband in a voice I’ve never heard before.

Everything in my body told me to not run. It would make the man mad. I forced my feet to maintain a normal pace.

“I told you to WALK,” The Husband said. “GO.”

The nearest car headlights were at least a mile away. Only one house had a light on, but that was two blocks away. My dog has such short legs.

The man was behind us.

“Hey,” he yelled. And we kept walking.

Palm Springs is incredibly dark at night. It’s so people can see the stars. It’s something I’ve loved ever since I moved to the desert — the darkness here is so much more complete and sincere than nights in the Midwest.

“I said HEY.”

I cursed myself for wearing white. In darker clothes, maybe I could have slipped into the park. It would have been easy. But with the stupid moon grinning down on me, reflecting my T-shirt like a Crest smile, there was no way.

“Do you know where Ramon. I mean, Raymond Cree,” the man said. He didn’t speak in complete sentences. None of his words made sense, but they had the tone of a threat. “Tell me Vista Chino.”

“No,” The Husband said. We continued walking.

My body had a visceral reaction to the man, who was now an arm’s length behind us. My heart trembled on the outside layer of my skin. Heat rolled through my body like lava. A very clear voice inside said, “Walk normal. Keep steady. Stand tall.”

I understood that no matter what happened, I was ready to accept it. I turned around to face the man.

“That way,” I said and pointed in the opposite direction. “Go the other way.”

We didn’t see the man go. We just looked behind us, and he was no longer there. At that point we quickened our step. We expected the man to reappear at any moment. But then he didn’t, and we were home.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” said The Husband. “Do you think I overreacted?”

“No,” I said. “Not at all.”

San Diego miscellany

November 4, 2011

My dad came to visit me recently, and I was skeptical about how it would go.

See, I didn’t always get along with my family, thanks to my snappy temper and poor decision-making skills. Though our relationship drastically improved with time and I’m a happy, healthy, well-adjusted adult now, I’m still wary out of habit.

Thankfully, the whole visit with daddy-o was fantastic from start to finish. Maybe our best visit of all time. Maybe too good.

We attended my dad’s military reunion in San Diego, and we stayed at a super weird Holiday Inn. We hung out with Steve, who was the best man in my parents’ wedding. Steve also briefly dated my aunt Hedda, long before she moved from her native Germany to North Carolina and achieved the weirdest accent ever. (Like Southern-fried schnitzel, y’all.)

My dad hadn’t seen Steve in 50 years. They swapped stories about heart attacks.

We took a tour of the USS Midway.

Pops was happy. He likes this kind of thing.

Excessively large military boats aren’t exactly my bag, so I found other ways to keep myself amused.

And then I made my dad pose for photos around the ship.

Including the jail. This is for The Very Bad Thanksgiving in 1997, Dad!

Every evening we had dinner at restaurants by the water, like the San Diego Yacht Club and the random place pictured below. And every night I ate pasta, boiled broccoli and salt, because that’s what vegans eat in San Diego. (Unless you go to Sipz or Stephanie’s, but my dad’s friends weren’t interested in those places.) Luckily I love salt.

My dad also wanted to go to the zoo, because he remembers seeing a lady from the San Diego Zoo on Johnny Carson.

I know most, if not all, vegans are anti-zoo. But I’m not one of those people. I used to be a volunteer educator at the Cincinnati Zoo, and I’ve seen firsthand how zoos can help animal populations and contribute to conservation efforts around the globe. Plus, I think zoos play an extremely important role in educating people who might not otherwise care about animals.

That’s not to say I’m 100 percent on board. There are still far too many abhorrent places out there that simply cram creatures into boxes without any concern for their welfare.

But the San Diego Zoo is one of the good ones.

My dad’s visit also included a drive through Pioneertown, a trip up the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway and a Steve Poltz backyard concert.

My dad ended up becoming completely obsessed with Steve Poltz and is now anxiously waiting for him to come through Dayton, Ohio — even though I’ve made it clear to Dad that he is NOT allowed to go to a bar in downtown Dayton by himself. He’s grounded. So now he wants to drag my sister Monica into this mess and force her to go to Steve Poltz concerts, which sounds like the very worst idea of all. And Steve Poltz isn’t even playing Dayton, Ohio, so it’s a pointless discussion anyway. I’ll fly home and take them to the Ice Capades instead.

Overall, I think my dad’s visit went a little too well … because he’s coming back for two weeks in January.

And I’m actually looking forward to it.

Month of fun: Day 8

September 8, 2011

When I was little, I put swimming pools in the same category as tiaras and castles. Pretty, but completely unattainable. And whenever I saw a TV show where the kids had a pool at school, forget it — that was as fictional as Charlie’s Chocolate Factory.

The only pool I knew was at the Huber Heights YMCA, a dangerous bike ride away from where I lived. The pool was so thick with kids and crumpled Funyuns packages, you could barely see the water. Lusty, greasy teenagers humped against the metal bars that lined the stairs. The smell of urine overwhelmed the chlorine.

My parents sacrificed a lot to get me a summer membership, so I went, albeit reluctantly. It’s not that I didn’t like to swim. I just didn’t like to swim there.

So now I consider it the ultimate luxury to live in a place with a swimming pool — clean and hump-free! — where I can cannonball, dive and doggy paddle 365 days a year.

It is not my swimming pool, but it feels like it is. Nobody in the complex really uses it. Maybe for people who grew up with sunshine and swimming pools, the shockingly teal ribbon has faded into the background. Maybe it seems too boring and familiar. Maybe they don’t remember the sheer joy that comes from floating on your back, drifting, watching the palm trees.

For me, it’s a baptism. The pool is my River Jordan. It’s like getting a slippery new skin.

The Husband doesn’t understand. He doesn’t like doing laps. He doesn’t like splashing around. He doesn’t even like floating. Whenever I coerce him into the pool, he just stands there and looks at me expectantly, like “Now what?” Until I hit him over the head with a pool noodle.

Today, after packing and hauling boxes over to the new apartment, just when I thought I couldn’t move another muscle, I jumped into the pool and was instantly reborn.

Month of fun: Day 4

September 4, 2011

Where’s the very best place to spend Labor Day Weekend? Plopped down on a beach chair at Manhattan Beach, surrounded by your best friends, with a can of champagne in hand.

The perfect summer day was capped off with a visit to Cupcakes Couture, a fancy, pretty-in-pink bakery that recently won “Cupcake Wars.”

Here’s the gorgeous Lime in the Coconut, one of the winning flavors from the show.

And it’s hard to tell from this photo, but this Sunday Mimosa cupcake was such a piece of art. It’s champagne cake filled with blood orange curd topped with a mascarpone citrus frosting, garnished with blood orange pearls. It was approximately the size of someone’s hand, with towers of sparkly icing.

BONUS FUN! My friend Maria recently moved from the desert to the beach, because she has more surf in her blood than sand. This was our first chance to really catch up since I returned from my trip, so we hugged, dished, ate pizza, took a nighttime walk on the pier. It was fantastic.

EXTRA BONUS FUN! Seeing Maria’s gorgeous children!

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