An Oasis in the City

The property where my mother and aunt were raised was less than eight miles from the center of downtown Los Angeles. We had access to a grocery, pharmacy, family doctor, and bakery within six or seven short city blocks. The neighborhood was densely populated and mostly White in the 1940s. It was a bedroom community for many people, including my aunt, who worked in downtown Los Angeles. 

My grandmother’s best friend owned a neighborhood bakery that bore her name—Maybell’s Bakery. It was located on the southwest corner of the York Boulevard and Milwaukee Avenue intersection. Next to it was an Italian grocery store that had a good delicatessen counter. I remember their sandwiches very well. The same family that owned the grocery owned a liquor store across the street on the north side of York Boulevard. Our family doctor was located a block east from the bakery also on York Boulevard. For many years, there was also a pharmacy on the southeast corner of York Boulevard at Avenue 57.  Diagonally across the street from the pharmacy was a general grocery store—one I remember my mother sending me to when she needed one or two items. Thus, we could walk to get almost anything we needed.  

1029 Milwaukee Avenue, Los Angeles

The house where we lived at 1029 Milwaukee, still exists. The outside appearance has changed; in fact, it has improved. It originally had green siding (probably containing asbestos), and it is now beige stucco. There was a low chain link fence around the front yard; it has been replaced by a wrought iron and stucco fence.

My grandfather, Warner Lincoln Marsh, had landscaped the yard when my mother and aunt were young. (A third child, a girl for whom I am named died at the age of six.) Warner Marsh was one of the original landscape architects in the United States, and he planted many fruit trees and exotic plants in the yard. The most prominent fruit trees were two feijoa trees, commonly known in the United States as pineapple guavas. At least one is still alive and visible to the right of the house in the photo above. During my childhood, the trees were heavy with fruit each autumn. The fruit dropped gently into deep Saint Augustine grass, which cushioned them.  It was the job of the children in the family, even at toddler age, to gather the fruit. We ate a great deal of the fruit while we collected it. Somehow, my grandmother knew that the fruit was a great source of Vitamin C, so consumption was encouraged. 

The property was terraced. The lower level had additional fruit trees, including a tall persimmon tree on the south side of the house and a white fig tree near the clothesline in the backyard. In addition, there was a giant apple tree that bore three different varieties of apple. My grandfather had grafted three kinds of apple onto a hearty tree. I have clear memories of sitting on the back porch peeling apples for pie with my mother and grandmother. Looking back, it surprises me that they gave me such a sharp knife when I was less than nine years old.

My brother and I had the run on the entire yard, even as toddlers. We played in the dirt; I can remember putting sweet alyssum blossoms as meringue on my chocolate (mud) pies. We spent most of the year barefooted over the objections of my mother who had very tender feet; she constantly worried we would step on something sharp or be stung by bees. Both happened, and we survived.