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This Begat That


Electronic music pioneer Giorgio Moroder recorded “Reach Out” as the theme song for the 1984 Summer Olympic Games. His synthesizer style so informed Daft Punk’s sound that the French duo featured Moroder on their album Random Access Memories, which won a Grammy in 2014.

The supermarket tabloid is legendary for paying sources for celebrity news. In 1980, it published an exclusive photo of John Lennon’s body after his murder. In 2009, the Web site TMZ reported the death of Michael Jackson before his family did.

In the “Showtime” era, Lakers owner Jerry Buss turned the team around by introducing theater to the Forum. With a fast-breaking offense led by Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar—along with live bands and dancing girls—Buss landed five NBA championships.

Judy Mazel’s best-selling diet book outlined a six-week plan that included a ten-day intestinal “cleansing” period, with meals composed entirely of fruits such as pineapple. The result was a blueprint for future fads like BluePrint.

The Era’s Most Prized Possessions


Dynasty Dresses
The popular nighttime soap may have taken place in Denver, but the glam get-ups worn by Joan Collins and Linda Evans were pure West Coast fantasy. “The vibe of the show was very California,” says Esther Shapiro, cocreator of the long-running series. The characters’ fashion sense soon trickled down to the masses. “Saks Fifth Avenue began selling hats because of us,” says Shapiro. “By the third year we were selling our own merchandise. We still get money from the licensees.”  —Chris Nichols 

Heaven on Wheels
From 1972 to 1989, Mercedes-Benz produced the R107 series, but it wasn’t until the mid-’80s that the sleek two-seater became a movie star. The vehicle of choice for Bobby Ewing in Dallas and Richard Gere in American Gigolo, the SL purred upwardly mobile wealth. “It was a car for people on the make,” says Jack Nerad, Kelley Blue Book’s executive editorial director, “and the ’80s were all about people on the make.” At $124,000 (in current dollars), you’d have to be. —Jon Alain Guzik

Brash Designs
In 1980, Italian designer Ettore Sottsass formed Memphis, the Milan-based creative collective whose name was inspired by a Dylan song. Featuring the work of L.A. artist Peter Shire (his “Bel-Air Chair” is pictured here), their first furniture collection debuted in 1981. The oversaturated orgy of art deco angles, Bauhaus bits, and Googie riffs was derided in the design world, but soon the bold colors and wacky geometry would be appropriated by Swatch watches, computer graphics, music videos, and TV shows such as Pee-wee’s Playhouse.   —Justin Jorgensen

Photographs courtesy: Dynasty: Everett Collection; Car: Mercedes-Benz

I Totally Remember…



Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous ran for 11 years. This show wasn’t about keeping up with the Joneses. This was beating the Rocke-fellers and the Vanderbilts. The Sultan of Brunei was so rich that when he bought the Beverly Hills Hotel, he didn’t fly in for the opening. He had television cameras placed everywhere for his own private satellite feed from the celebrity red carpet, the ballrooms, and the pool. Ah, the days of wine and roses. Never likely to see that fabulous fun ever again.” –Robin Leach, host, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous


Elvira on TV!

“Local TV had no standards back then. When I presented my costume to the station manager at KHJ, he said, ‘Can you make the slit on the leg a little higher?’ My friend Robert Redding was an artist and part-time drag queen; he sewed the dress, he cut the wig, he did my makeup. I have to give him props. He made it edgier.” –Cassandra “Elvira” Peterson, television personality


The Dr. Demento Show!

The Dr. Demento Show was everywhere. I began getting unsolicited tapes from listeners, including one from Alfred Yankovic of Lynwood. I listened and knew right away that he had unusual talent. ‘Another One Rides the Bus’ was recorded live on my KMET show in 1980. ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic’s first album and video would come out in 1983.” –Dr. Demento, host, The Dr. Demento Show


Angelyne billboards!

“Tom Selleck once passed by my billboard in a limo and made his driver take him around five times to get the number. He called and invited me to Hawaii.” –Angelyne, model and L.A. icon



Photographs courtesy (in order): Everett Collection (1, 2), Barry Demento (3), BEImages (4)

Event Alert: A Totally ’80s Social Hour on July 23!


It was, like, the decade that changed L.A. Take a trip back in time as we toast our July issue and the era of Jane Fonda, Spago, the Go-Go’s, and shoulder-padded decadence. Head to the Rainbow Bar & Grill (or as you know it, the Rainbow Room) on July 23 starting at 8 p.m. for ’80s-inspired discount cocktails, ’80s tunes, ’80s garb, and alive-in-the-’80s staffers including editor-in-chief Mary Melton, senior editor Nancy Miller, dine editor Lesley Suter, plus Vintage L.A.’s Alison Martino.

Where: The Rainbow Bar & Grill
When: 8 p.m. on Wednesday, July 23
No Cover!
RSVP to lasocialhour.eventbrite.com to ensure entry

It’s gonna be radical. 

It’s a Thing: The Scattoo


Move over, Brian Wilson’s beard with a beard, there’s a new headline-grabbing hairstyle in the majors. Days before playing in his first MLB All-Star Game, L.A. Dodger Yasiel Puig debuted a new ‘do: a large star etched in the side of his head.

Our call: This shave art scores.

Flashback Friday: A New Little Spot Called Spago


Every Friday, we are publishing some truly classic archival content in honor of our ’80s-themed July issue (on newsstands now!) Herewith, a our original review of the famed Spago by restaurant critic Bruce David Colen, three months after it opened in January of 1984. Worth noting: the word “bitchy,” the fact Colen admittedly doesn’t like pizza, an early rave for Nancy Silverton, and something we’re all still complaining about—the noise:

Dining Out

There is a new restaurant in town, where:

  • Not one French word appears on the menu, not even canard, although the chef became famous for his modified nouvelle cuisine.
  • None of the waiters say, “Bon appetit”; nor are guests subjected to an introductory recitation in blackboardese.
  • The selection of dishes is like no other menu in Southern California or effete points east.
  • Dining is festive without being formal; fun but not funky.
  • If you have to wait too long for your reservation, you receive a bottle of good champagne—on the house.
  • Two people can have a lovely, three-course dinner for around $50.


April fool?

No. Honestly, such a place actually exists in the foothills of West Hollywood, just a reefer toss from the heart of the Sunset Strip. The name of this dining-out miracle? Spago, which is Italian for “string” or “twine.” Make the word plural, spaghi, and you get the beginning of spaghetti and a hint of what can be found on the restaurant’s unique menu.

      The creator, principal owner (20 doctors, lawyers and gastronomic groupies put up nearly $600,000 in seed money) and chef of Spago is Wolfgang Puck, the same talented and genial gentleman who, for six years, pulled a few of Patrick Terrail’s coals out of the oven at the latter’s Ma Maison. At this writing, six weeks after Spago’s opening, Mr. Terrail had not yet visited his old companion’s new home. He did send a potted plant, however.

      To be fair (and not so bitchy), the 33-year-old Puck left Ma Maison for the same reasons he left his stepfather’s charcuterie in Austria and became an apprentice in the best kitchens of Paris: to be on his own to learn and do new things. In a manner similar to the way Hollywood typecasts its actors, the restaurant-going world limits the creativity of its chefs. Having grown accustomed to lemon chicken at their maison of choice, regular customers will bristle should the kitchen try mustard chicken for a change. Well, as they say in the television commercial, Puck doesn’t fit the mold—he’s broken it. And his personal declaration of independence is the Spago menu.

      Had I had the brains to put one and one together, I should have been able to guess what dishes Puck was going to offer. Back in 1978, when he discovered I was going to a wine fair in Vera, Italy, he said, “Be sure to try a tiny place across from the coliseum. I’ve forgotten the name, but they have the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.” I never did find the spot. Then, a year or so later, Puck advised, “Next time you’re in San Francisco, don’t miss the upstairs part of Chez Panisse, out in Berkeley. They serve wonderful calzone” (an enormous pastry envelope filled with melted cheese and the chef’s choice of meat and vegetables—really a pizza with a hat).

      So I should have been surprised that four kinds of pizza ($6.50 to $9.50) and two versions of calzone ($7.50 and $8) are at the heart of the Spago menu, just as a huge brick oven in which to bake them is the focal point of the restaurant itself. My favorites are the pizza with duck sausage, tomato, mozzarella and basil and the one containing tender Santa Barbara shrimp. As for the calzone, it’s a tossup between the one with prosciutto and the one made with eggplant and artichoke. You may have any of these with or without garlic. And you will get a lot of it if you do not speak up when ordering.

      This is as good—and bad—a time as any to make a confession: I am not really a great pizza fan. All that pastry padding, as delicious as Puck’s is, seems like a waste of sacred stomach space unless one is ravenously hungry and there is nothing else on the menu. So for those with similar feelings—or waistlines—I bear glad tidings. There are 20 other delicate, delectable entrees, appetizers and salads to choose from, and they all sound, look and taste so good that deciding on one is not an easy task. I know. Although I have dined at Spago five times in three weeks and, with the help of adventurous guests, sampled everything in the house with the exception of baby pork chops with cranberry sauce ($9)—it is going to be a difficult but lovely problem deciding what to choose on my sixth, nonworking visit. But no more stalling. The waiter is back for the third time and waiting to take my order. If he can cope with a few and/or decisions, here goes.

      Should I care to cleanse my senses of a bad day at the office, I would start with marinated fresh tuna with avocado and Maui onions ($6.50) or the blood-pink carpaccio (though one local food writer thought the name stood for a cocktail, it of course refers to tissue-thin raw beef) with slightly oiled enoki mushrooms ($8.50). But if I had had my fill at a late lunch and wanted to start the evening meal slowly and refreshingly, the order would be for one radicchio-and-arugula salad with goat cheese that has been roasted in a savory herb butter ($5). On the other hand, if you love pasta, you must order either the noodles with smoked salmon and golden caviar ($8.50) or the angel hair with broccoli and goat cheese ($7.50) as an appetizer. The combination of tastes, in both dishes, is a thing of joy.

      One of the most popular entrees at Spago is the boned chicken sprinkled with piquant herbs and garlic, then quickly grilled over a very hot fire to seal in all the juices ($9.50). But that is something I can and do have at home; so the harder-to-prepare marinated squab—the little birds roost in Auslese wine for several days—was more of a treat ($14). Another delicacy that those who cook at home rarely come upon is truly fresh fish. Puck gets his by making 7 a.m. visits to the Japanese markets in downtown L.A. His morning catch appears on the evening menu grilled, steamed or raw, as in the case of the marinated tuna and the Pigeon Point and Belon oysters, served as appetizers.

      Having gone to the trouble of securing the freshest fish, Puck refuses to turn around and fillet the flavor out of them, as happens in most local restaurants. The Pacific sole ($12) and the red snapper ($11), which is prepared with a lovely red-onion-and-butter sauce, are served whole and with their bones intact. (I’ll wager more people choke on the size of their dinner check in the places than from swallowing a piece of vertebra.) Any fish lover can immediately tell the difference. Looking for more palates to conquer, Puck plans to start roasting baby lamb and pig in those cavernous pizza ovens whenever he can get them young enough from farmers in Northern California. I hope he also tries roast kid one day, and that I am in the audience when he does so.

      A lot of has been made of the fact that a number of the employees at Spago were last seen working at many of our better-known restaurants—the implication being that Puck swapped his toque for a pirate’s hate and conducted a few manpower raids. I am not privy to all the details, but I do know that the waiters who transferred from Michael’s did so because that Santa Monica establishment put a 17 per cent “service charge” on each dinner bill. (Guests, incidentally, must pay tax on such enforced tips.) It sounds like a great deal for the waiters, but not quite. Management keeps the 17 per cent and pays the employee a straight hourly wage, which means that waiters go home with 20 to 25 per cent less than in the past.

      Spago’s sensational pastry chef, Nancy Silverton, also defected from Michael McCarty’s kitchen, but not for solely monetary reasons. Silverton, who studied under Paris’ great patissier Gaston Lenotre, was never the head dessert maker at Michael’s. Puck gave her that title and the responsibilities it entails, such as baking enough different tortes and tarts each day, seven days a week, to satisfy the yearnings of Spago’s 200-pus nightly guests. There are four fixed desserts (all $4.50), and each day Silverton fulfills her own creative yearnings by baking five or six others according to her mood.

      Judging by the results, it must always be a happy one. The piece de resistance is a small sugar pastry shell filled with Calvados-soaked apple, capped with a delicate lid of mille-feuille and then topped with fresh raspberry sauce and lots of beautiful raspberries. There is only one problem: The portion is teasingly small. I’m being serious, not greedy. I am sure patrons would gladly pay a premium for a few more bites.

      You’re on your own when it comes to picking an alternative to that masterful hot fruit tart. It is just a matter of which caloric way you wish to go. There is a torte so loaded with rich, rich chocolate, and so popular, that if I were a commodities broker I would sell cocoa long tomorrow morning. A personal favorite: the lemon-and-almond-paste cake, almost like a sponge, deceptively light and redolent with sharp, clean aromas.

      Want to make the break with Mother’s cooking once and for all? Wean yourself on Silverton’s apple pie covered with caramel ice cream. The rice-pudding confection is better than any doctor’s prescription for a nervous stomach. And finally, the young woman does show an ounce of two of piety for diurnal scale-watchers. I refer to her very light, fresh pear sorbet studded with giant scrumptious blueberries—not those shriveled, frozen pellets that so often pass for them.

      What’s wrong with Spago? I was waiting to be asked but I did not want to talk with food in my mouth. The battery of chefs working beside Puck in the dining room’s “open kitchen” seem far better organized than some of the waiters. The latter are all very pleasant and diligent but given to forgetting requests—which can result in their not bringing the wonderful oven-warmed loaf of bread to the table while guests are having cocktails or their initial glass of wine. That may appear to be crumb picking—and I wish the bus boys would do more of that—but having something to nibble on is very important at Spago, because each appetizer and entrée order is individually prepared and guests must wait for their opening dish.

      Although the selection of wines is broad and innovative, I find the prices excessive; but then I imagine Puck would argue that the excellent St.-Emiilion house red wine is fair at $12. But if he lowers the others, the food prices will have to go up. As it is, Puck estimates it will be three years before investors see a return on their money.

      Next, probably because of the Italian influence at Spago, I could not help remembering something told to me by the late, great Giuseppe Cipriani, the founder of Harry’s Bar in Venice: “Early in the evening, when the bar wasn’t crowded, I turned the radio up loud. That way the customers talked louder and there seemed to be more of them. But as the place filled up, I gradually lowered the music so people could talk. If you can’t have a conversation with friends, good food and wine is wasted.” Considering the instant success of Spago, the maître d’, Henri Labadie, should reach for the volume knob the moment he comes to work. (The next order of business should be straightening out his overcrowded reservations book; I hope nobody remembers the booking scandal at La Guillotine when he was there.)

      Moving from acoustics to aesthetics, while the mildly high-tech interior (an outdoor dining harden is about to open) of Puck’s new home is very simple and simpatico, the dreary entranceway from the street is most uninviting. On each visit I kept hoping to find some bright flowerpots in the area and that the dingy brown synthetic grass on the steps would have been shipped back to outer space. But this last criticism is really irrelevant, I suppose, because with Spago, Puck is not trying to build a monument to himself—only a sophisticated, live-in kitchen where he and those who love interesting, good food could have fun. He did it.


Flashback Friday: Who Says You Can’t Please a Woman?


In honor of our ’80s-themed July issue, we are publishing some truly classic archival content, like this Volvo ad from April, 1980:

Flashback Friday: Amanda Cuts Loose


Every Friday, we are publishing some truly classic archival content in honor of our ’80s-themed July issue. Here is a spring fashion drama starring Linda Gray from March of 1984:

Linda Gray is unforgettable as our Amanda—a Los Angeles woman who finds hope in the midst of despair while wriitng her lover who has left her for two weeks to find his “own space.” Her letters may be spare, but her closet is bulging with the newest clean, lean, and understated looks for spring ’84. Her style is body conscious as well as fashion conscious. And though she is too savvy to jump on a fashion bandwagon that doesn’t suit her, she is also in tune with the changing drama of fashion and knows how to play every scene.

Scenario by Jean Penn, photographs by Charles William Bush


Recipe: Auntie Em’s Bacon and Herb Bread Pudding


Successful restaurants understand the importance of ambience, and that starts with the right background music. Terri Wahl, chef-owner of Eagle Rock’s retro eatery Auntie Em’s, says that great tunes can actually make the food taste better. She should know—before opening her restaurant she played guitar in the all-girl punk band Red Ants. The just-released Auntie Em’s Cookbook combines her culinary and musical skills, pairing each of the seasonally inspired breakfast, brunch, and dessert recipes with just the right tune. Talk about whistling while you work. For instance, she suggests a little Curtis Mayfield alongside her homey bacon and herb bread pudding, which combines day old bread with apple wood-smoked bacon and fresh herbs. Mmm-mmm—that’s one funky breakfast. Get the recipe.

Auntie Em’s Bread Pudding with Bacon & Herbs
Serves 6 to 8


  • 10 slices applewood- smoked bacon
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
  • 4 tablespoons finely chopped chives
  • 4 tablespoons finely chopped basil
  • 3 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
  • 3 tablespoons finely chopped oregano
  • 1 cup grated good cheddar (such as Hook’s or Cabot Clothbound)
  • 1 cup grated Gruyère cheese, plus 3 tablespoons for garnish
  • 9 to 10 slices good quality stale white bread, or any other bread, crusts trimmed and reserved for another use
  • 2 teaspoons sea salt, divided
  • 2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper, divided
  • 10 large eggs
  • 3 cups heavy cream
  • 2 cups milk
  • ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
  1. Fry bacon in a large skillet over medium heat until crisp, about 4 to 5 minutes.
  2. Cut into 2-inch pieces and set aside on a paper towel to drain fat.
  3. Rub a medium baking dish (about 10 ½” x 7” or 1-quart gratin dish) with softened butter.
  4. In a medium bowl, mix together chives, basil, parsley, oregano, bacon, cheddar and Gruyère. 
  5. Line baking dish with a layer of bread (about 3 slices), trimming to fit if needed. Season bread with 1 teaspoon each salt and pepper. 
  6. Scatter half of the bacon-cheese mixture over the bread. 
  7. Repeat with a layer of bread and the remaining half of the bacon-cheese mixture. Finish with a layer of bread.
  8. In a medium bowl, beat eggs with cream and milk. 
  9. Season with 1 teaspoon each salt and pepper, nutmeg, and cayenne, and mix well. Pour egg mixture over bread. 
  10. Sprinkle remaining 3 tablespoons Gruyère on top and cover with plastic wrap. 
  11. Let sit in refrigerator for 24 hours.
  12. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. 
  13. Remove plastic wrap and bake for 45 minutes. Check doneness by inserting the tip of the knife into the center of the pudding. The knife should come out clean. If it doesn’t, cook for 5 minutes more and test again.
 (The Auntie Em’s Cookbook is available on the Auntie Em’s Kitchen website, Amazonand at local independent bookstores such as Skylight Books, Vroman’s Bookstore, and Diesel: A Bookstore.)