Depending on what my wife wants, the rest of my ashes can be buried next to her or commingled with her own ashes. Thus ends what I think about for after I die. Let’s put it this way: if I wake up in Heaven, I will shit myself. Then I will quietly head for the exit—I know when and where I am not wanted.
Well, that is my side of it. That also means we are ready to get to the good shit. Both teams are aware of the rules. They have told us a little bit about each other, likes and dislikes, and what life is like back in Bucktooth, Wisconsin. They know what is at stake, and they know we are playing for keeps. So no waiting for a commercial break, and no flipping a coin to see who goes first—square your stance, bear down on it, pray you do not hit any whammies, and prepare yourself.
Time to play the Feud.
The Mansion
I F YOU EVER FIND YOURSELF in Hollywood looking for something to do that does not have the unholy stench of “tourist” all over it, here is something you can do that will not cost you a dime. Find Sunset Boulevard and turn up Laurel Canyon, heading toward the valley. You will pass Mt. Olympus (sort of—it is not the “real” one). You will pass the neighborhoods where all the rock stars in the sixties and seventies lived, from the Mamas and the Papas and the Eagles to Jim Morrison and Frank Zappa. You will also pass the little general store on the corner where the groupies waited for all these said rock stars to come and shop or maybe just take one of them home. Once the corner store is in your rearview mirror, all that is left is a stoplight and two turns. You will pass Lookout Mountain, and then the road straightens out for a split second. Quick—turn your head to the left. Did you see the sprawling mansion set hard against a slope in the Hollywood Hills?
You just saw a haunted house.
The house at 2451 Laurel Canyon has a very strange history, and depending on who is telling it, you might get a different history each time. Owned by Rick Rubin, it has been called “The Mansion,” or “The Houdini Mansion,” and “The House Bess Houdini Built after Harry Died.” After all the research I have done and all the available info I have combed through, the only name that fits is the first. The fact is that Harry Houdini never lived at 2451, nor did his wife build it after he died. To be honest, no two people can agree on when it was actually built. Some say it was erected in 1918, one year before Harry Houdini relocated to Hollywood to get into “moving pictures.” Other people maintain that the estate was built in 1925 by Richard Burkell. Harry’s proper “house” was at 2400 Laurel Canyon, but even that is open to debate. There is no documentation to show that Houdini even owned a home in Los Angeles; he and his wife reportedly used the guesthouse of department store magnate Ralf Walker, and Bess Houdini continued to stay in that same guesthouse until Walker’s death. This is basically how 2451 Laurel Canyon got the name Houdini House. But legend has it that there was so much more. According to myth and nonsense, there was a sprawling castle with parapets and hidden tunnels, passageways for the great escapist to visit his mistress with his wife being none the wiser. You would think she might have noticed all the construction, but I do not judge; I do not even check expiration dates. I just sniff and hope.
Popular usage by a user-friendly populace has perpetuated the assumption that the Mansion at 2451 had anything to do with Houdini and vice versa. I can relate—hey, it is a wonderful story to swap over margaritas at an afternoon get-together. Gossip and rumor are a lot like trading cards—the more rare and outlandish they seem to be, the more valuable they are to all involved. So everyone from housewives to hippies gave this crispy quip a longer shelf life than it might have expected. I am confident Rubin let that bet ride as well. Nothing makes the heart grow fonder than the
Well, that is my side of it. That also means we are ready to get to the good shit. Both teams are aware of the rules. They have told us a little bit about each other, likes and dislikes, and what life is like back in Bucktooth, Wisconsin. They know what is at stake, and they know we are playing for keeps. So no waiting for a commercial break, and no flipping a coin to see who goes first—square your stance, bear down on it, pray you do not hit any whammies, and prepare yourself.
Time to play the Feud.
The Mansion
I F YOU EVER FIND YOURSELF in Hollywood looking for something to do that does not have the unholy stench of “tourist” all over it, here is something you can do that will not cost you a dime. Find Sunset Boulevard and turn up Laurel Canyon, heading toward the valley. You will pass Mt. Olympus (sort of—it is not the “real” one). You will pass the neighborhoods where all the rock stars in the sixties and seventies lived, from the Mamas and the Papas and the Eagles to Jim Morrison and Frank Zappa. You will also pass the little general store on the corner where the groupies waited for all these said rock stars to come and shop or maybe just take one of them home. Once the corner store is in your rearview mirror, all that is left is a stoplight and two turns. You will pass Lookout Mountain, and then the road straightens out for a split second. Quick—turn your head to the left. Did you see the sprawling mansion set hard against a slope in the Hollywood Hills?
You just saw a haunted house.
The house at 2451 Laurel Canyon has a very strange history, and depending on who is telling it, you might get a different history each time. Owned by Rick Rubin, it has been called “The Mansion,” or “The Houdini Mansion,” and “The House Bess Houdini Built after Harry Died.” After all the research I have done and all the available info I have combed through, the only name that fits is the first. The fact is that Harry Houdini never lived at 2451, nor did his wife build it after he died. To be honest, no two people can agree on when it was actually built. Some say it was erected in 1918, one year before Harry Houdini relocated to Hollywood to get into “moving pictures.” Other people maintain that the estate was built in 1925 by Richard Burkell. Harry’s proper “house” was at 2400 Laurel Canyon, but even that is open to debate. There is no documentation to show that Houdini even owned a home in Los Angeles; he and his wife reportedly used the guesthouse of department store magnate Ralf Walker, and Bess Houdini continued to stay in that same guesthouse until Walker’s death. This is basically how 2451 Laurel Canyon got the name Houdini House. But legend has it that there was so much more. According to myth and nonsense, there was a sprawling castle with parapets and hidden tunnels, passageways for the great escapist to visit his mistress with his wife being none the wiser. You would think she might have noticed all the construction, but I do not judge; I do not even check expiration dates. I just sniff and hope.
Popular usage by a user-friendly populace has perpetuated the assumption that the Mansion at 2451 had anything to do with Houdini and vice versa. I can relate—hey, it is a wonderful story to swap over margaritas at an afternoon get-together. Gossip and rumor are a lot like trading cards—the more rare and outlandish they seem to be, the more valuable they are to all involved. So everyone from housewives to hippies gave this crispy quip a longer shelf life than it might have expected. I am confident Rubin let that bet ride as well. Nothing makes the heart grow fonder than the
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