In Temple Block were many offices, but I remember it as the abode of Godfrey, the photographer, who, plentifully supplied with red velvet fringed chairs and pronged head braces, took the pictures of the Angelenos.
Over in the Downey Block, where now the U. S. Government Building stands, and in the buildings to the north, were some of our most frequented stores, among them Meyberg’s Crystal Palace, a source of china and glassware, and Dotter and Bradley, whose furniture firm later took the name of Los Angeles Furniture Co. A little Barker store was born over near First and Spring, but that was so far from the center of things, and chilly and lonely, that it moved nearer to the Plaza,—and now Barker Brothers aspires to be the largest furniture “emporium” in the world with a palace on Seventh Street!
I knew something of Commercial and Los Angeles streets as business thoroughfares, but their importance was passing, and the new Baker Block was the last word in elegance, and the pride of all the dwellers in Los Angeles. Here Rev. B. F. Coulter opened a drygoods store that continues to this day in the fourth location that I remember, moving first to Second and Spring, then following the fashion up to Broadway and later going to Seventh. Then as now this establishment specialized in blankets, perhaps because Mr. Coulter had a woolen mill over the hill where now is the corner of Figueroa and Fifth streets. There was a little stream there that was called Los Reyes,—the Kings,—rather a humble place for royalty in a city of the Queen of the Angels.
Two favorite shops of that time have disappeared, that of Dillon and Kennealy, who carried a line of most lovely linens from their Irish homeland, and the City of Paris, “the best place for lace and trimmings,” I used to hear. That was before the time of ready-made clothing, and real ladies were most particular about the quality of materials used and the nicety of workmanship.
One day a small new store, with a fifty foot frontage, appeared at the corner of Temple and Spring. Good shoppers soon recognized high grade materials and efficient salesmanship, and the firm had to move a few doors south to obtain larger space, and then, made bold by public favor, it went pioneering way out among the residences on Broadway near Third, to remain a few years until it set the fashion of Seventh street,—J. W. Robinson & Co.
Mrs. Ponet supplied the ladies with bonnets, when Miss Daley didn’t, and Mr. Ponet framed our pictures and buried our dead.
As I was only a little girl in those days, I do not know so much about the shopping habits of the gentlemen, but I remember that they bought hats from D. Desmond, cutlery from C. Ducommun and watches and jewels from S. Nordlinger.
Not long ago I picked up an old map of Los Angeles showing a new subdivision just west of Figueroa. The map was issued by Stoll and Thayer, who with Hellman, Stassforth Co., were the chief purveyors of school books, slates, Christmas cards with silk fringe, lace paper valentines and other necessities. Here I bought those classics, McGuffy’s Fourth Reader, Robinson’s Arithmetic, Harper’s Geography, and Collier and Daniel’s Latin Book.
For years it was necessary for anyone desiring a book other than those standard works known to druggists and stationers to send away for it, so it was a great thing for lovers of literature when Mr. C. C. Parker came to town and opened a book shop for books only,—no twine or glue or notebooks or cosmetics or toys, not even text books admitted to his shelves.
Over east of the shopping district lay Chinatown, at one time a very interesting and picturesque part of Los Angeles, having at least 7,000 inhabitants, but owing to the Exclusion Act of the nineties now dwindled to 2,000. With its going has come a distinct loss in color, to say nothing of the much regretted race of competent and loyal household servants.