Golden Couples of the Palisades

“Quite honestly, I married the girl of my dreams,” Bill Fritzsche says. “As a boy I used to dream of someone like Dolores. I got lucky.” Fritzsche grew up in Los Angeles, attended Loyola High School and, after a year at the University of Washington, came back to enroll at Loyola Marymount University. He shared a house at the beach with nine other college students, many of whom were World War II veterans. “We’re best friends to this day,” Fritzsche says. Dolores Jones grew up in St. Louis and moved to Los Angeles to attend Immaculate Heart College, where she received a degree in history and elementary education. She also formed a group of close friends, “The Basic Five,” that still gets together. While Dolores was in college, the Catholic colleges in Los Angeles would organize programs such as gathering 90,000 people in the Coliseum to pray for peace and say a rosary against Communism. In 1951, she and Fritzsche were introduced at one of these church events by one of Bill’s roommates. After dating for two years they were married in St. Louis on October 31, 1953’halfway through Bill’s military duty. They honeymooned at the Greenbriar Hotel in Silver Springs, West Virginia, where Bill’s father designed the town’s railroad station. After Bill’s discharge from the Army, he and Dolores moved to Eagle Rock and then on to Santa Monica (with their toddler, William Jr., who was followed by James, Caroline, Elizabeth, Maria, Thomas and Vincent). They wanted to buy a house, but “nice houses in Santa Monica were too expensive,” Dolores says, so they looked instead in Pacific Palisades and found a house on Via de la Paz, where they lived for 16 years. “Living here has been amazing,” Bill says, “You can walk to school, to church and to the stores.” In 1960, the Fritzsches bought a Rayne Water Conditioner franchise, and they eventually owned seven franchises in Southern California. While Bill was expanding their business, Dolores was at home running the household. “Laundry was a racket,” Dolores says. “The children were not allowed to put clothes in a hamper willy-nilly.” “Thank God for wash-and-wear,” Bill adds. “We ate simply; I didn’t cook for leftovers,” Dolores says. “We had lots of bologna and peanut butter sandwiches. When you have seven kids, you get organized.” And you put the kids to work around the house. “Boys need to do things that they know are worthwhile, like raking the leaves,” says Bill, who recalls that when the family moved to a home on Ocampo, the people who bought their house wanted to hire their gardener. “We have two,” Bill told them. The people started to object that they couldn’t afford two. “We have one son do the front yard,” Bill continued, “and one does the back.” Their children all attended Corpus Christi School, over a 23-year span. “I think I was at the school longer than any mom,” says Dolores, who recalls that every summer her husband would plan cross-country trips with all the kids in a station wagon. Without DVDs and Gameboys, how did they cope? Simple, according to Bill. “No eating in the car, and I’d make one child the navigator who got to sit in the front seat with the map.” “After lunch, I’d drive,” Dolores says, “and Bill would call on our daughter Caroline for the ‘Miss Caroline story hour.'” “She’d tell the most amazing stories,” Bill recalls, “and I would do the commercials.” He turns radio announcer and gives his spiel: “Stay at the Dirty Sheets Hotel…” “We’d always stop early and find a motel with a swimming pool,” Dolores adds. Making a marriage work, according to the Fritzsches, comes from having a deep faith and a love for each other. Dolores jokes, “We don’t have more than one fight a day.” “If we fight, we separate and then one or the other will say ‘Sorry’ and the other will be sorry that they didn’t say it first,” Bill says. All of the Fritzsche children are married, and there are 14 grandchildren’with another due in June. “We are blessed,” Bill and Dolores both say.

Theater Review

Most people go to the theater to see a show that will transport them to a different place or time, to step out of their own reality or fantasy and into someone else’s. But when you go see “The Black Rider: The Casting of the Magic Bullets,” playing at the Ahmanson Theatre, you’d better be prepared for a full-body experience. The musical fable is the artistic collaboration of avant-garde director Robert Wilson, singer/songwriter/composer Tom Waits and Beat writer William S. Burroughs, who died in 1997. But the production feels like it belongs mostly to Wilson (“Einstein on the Beach”), who also designed the set and lighting. So, if you resist selling your soul to Wilson, you might not make it to intermission. Wilson uses grand-scale scenery, shadow and psychedelic light to create a surreal atmosphere for “The Black Rider,” which is based on Carl Maria von Weber’s German Romantic opera “Der Freisch’tz” (“The Free-Shooter”). The show premiered in Germany at Hamburg’s Thalia Theater in 1990. In the contemporary retelling of this Faustian tale, Wilhelm, a young clerk, accepts magic bullets from the diabolical Pegleg in order to win a shooting contest and the hand of his true love, K’thchen, a woodsman’s daughter. The text, lyrics and images foreshadow the fate of these star-crossed lovers, but the story takes unexpected turns and becomes increasingly wild and dark with every whip of Pegleg’s tuxedo tails. Trees that look like giant, uneven paper cutouts collapse from top to bottom and then later appear upside down. Shooting becomes an amusement, like a carnival game with loud sound effects that go off when the player hits his mark. The highly theatrical production begins like a cabaret, with the characters introduced as “freaks of nature,” and continues to entice the audience with its vaudevillian humor. Wilhelm (Matt McGrath) is, of course, the leading act. McGrath dances with grace and ease even when his partner is the rifle slung across his chest. He also proves to be a smooth and skillful mime, acting out his character’s curiosity and desperation. Like the other characters that inhabit this misty forest world, Wilhelm has a powder-white face and vampire-red lips. But he is the least creepy of the zombie-like creatures, who emerge from a coffin that rises and turns upright in center stage. Leading the crew, as a ringmaster of sorts, is Pegleg, played by the dynamic Vance Avery, who creeps across stage with a slow limp and a dangerously seductive gaze. Actor Nigel Richards is particularly awesome to watch in his three-part role. He plays the hunting boy that K’thchen’s father, Bertram (Dean Robinson), would have liked his daughter to marry, and he howls and screeches like an animal, echoing Bertram and predicting Wilhelm’s struggle. The twisted love story of Wilhelm and K’thchen unfolds tenderly yet comically, as they perform a song-and-dance number in the air, floating awkwardly back and forth but never quite meeting. Actress Mary Margaret O’Hara cleverly portrays the distraught, lovesick K’thchen, singing in an exaggeratedly high-pitched tone and often appearing breathless. She shines during her solo “I’ll Shoot the Moon.” While some audiences will embrace this powerful sensory experience, others might find the production’s stylized beauty and Expressionist storytelling techniques overwhelming. The show is also quite long and the second half is partially performed in slow motion, which adds to its hallucinatory intensity. One thing is clear: Wilhelm is not the only one possessed by magic bullets. “The Black Rider” runs through June 11 at the Ahmanson Theatre. Tickets are available by calling (213) 628-2772 or online at www.CenterTheatreGroup.org.

When multi-talented Dom DeLuise is asked if there is anything he doesn’t do, he responds with his usual instant wit: “I don’t run fast.” His zest for life’and for food’is legendary. The fullness of his stature is matched only by the immensity of his pursuits over the years as an actor, comedian, singer, dancer, director, chef, radio host and children’s book author. Friends of Film will honor DeLuise with a lifetime achievement award at the Palisades Film Festival’s opening night reception on Thursday, May 11 at Chefmakers Cooking Academy. “We’re very proud to be honoring Dom, a real class act and a true living legend of the film and television world,” says Bob Sharka, executive director of Friends of Film. “I can’t think of a better place to hold this event, as Dom is a local guy who, like me, is no stranger in the kitchen.” DeLuise and his wife, the actress Carol Arthur, are longtime Palisadians. They raised their three sons Peter, Michael and David (all are in the entertainment business) in the Riviera ranch house they still call home’an energetic household filled with birds, tropical fish, family and friends, where three grandchildren now come to cavort. DeLuise served as honorary mayor of Pacific Palisades in 1984 and, over the years, he has brought his sparkling, lovable clown persona to the Fourth of July parade, serving as grand marshal in 1983. “My father used to yell and scream a lot,” says DeLuise, who switches to Italian and a deep baritone voice to imitate his father’s stern nature. Dom grew up in Brooklyn, where he was one of three children. “When he would leave, we would all be trembling and I’d make some sort of joke about him scaring us. This is when I first realized I could in fact make people laugh.” A graduate of Manhattan’s High School of the Performing Arts, he spent his summers at the Cleveland Playhouse, appearing in productions such as “Guys and Dolls,” “Kiss Me, Kate,” “Stalag 17,” and “Hamlet.” In 1961, DeLuise debuted on the New York stage in the off-Broadway hit production of “Little Mary Sunshine.” He met his wife Carol while appearing in a summer production of “Summer & Smirk” in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Eight off-Broadway shows later, he starred in the 1968 Broadway production of Neil Simon’s “Last of the Red Hot Lovers.” He first appeared on television as “Dominick the Great” on the “Garry Moore Show,” performing with his good friend Ruth Buzzi. Other television credits include a regular role on “The Entertainers” with Carol Burnett and Bob Newhart, 12 years on the “Dean Martin Show” and many memorable moments as guest host for Johnny Carson on the “Tonight Show.” He starred in his own show, “Dom DeLuise and Friends,” from 1983 to 1990. On the big screen, DeLuise debuted in Sydney Lumet’s 1964 film “Fail Safe.” On the recommendation of the late Anne Bancroft, Mel Brooks’s wife, DeLuise was cast in “The Twelve Chairs,” earning him a place in many of Brooks’s best comedies. He and his longtime buddy Burt Reynolds made a string of madcap comedies together including “Smokey and the Bandit II,” “Cannonball Run I & II” and “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” “It was always great fun to work with Burt because you could ad lib,” DeLuise recalls. “I feel like Burt is my brother because we have so much fun together.” These days, DeLuise hosts his own radio cooking segment every Saturday on the syndicated show “On the House” with the Carey Brothers. His cookbooks'”Eat This,” “Eat This Too” and his latest “Eat This Again”‘ are bestsellers. He even has his own Web site, www.domdeluise.com, where he sends out monthly recipes and cooking tips to loyal fans and subscribers. His most recent children’s book is entitled “There’s No Place Like Home” and he continues to regularly lend his talent for voiceover to animated productions. “A lady once pinched my cheeks in an elevator and said ‘I’d like to make soup for you,'” Deluise says, confirming how he projects an image as everyone’s favorite uncle. “They wouldn’t do that to Burt Reynolds or Spencer Tracy,” he adds with a laugh. And given his multi-faceted career, how does he hope to be remembered? “They’re going to remember that I was round, that I was friendly, that I didn’t put anybody down when I did my jokes and there was the smell of garlic in my home at all times.” The Pacific Palisades Film Festival, now in its third year, will screen 20 films from May 11 through 13 at Pierson Playhouse, 941 Temescal Canyon Road. For more information, go online to www.FriendsofFilm.com.

“I have taken the responsibility to find Dad and Grandpa a good woman! They are tired of minding the kids and they are so lonely. Dad stays in his upstairs room, dressed in his good brown felt suit, staring out into space. He never smiles. “The two gentlemen keep the kitchen clean and put the pots and pans away in their cute German cupboard. The children, of course are happy. The one-year old has a new bed and the baby is in his bassinet. The 2-year old has a quilt of blue and white blocks. The 6-year-old hangs out with Grandpa a lot. The children have toys galore! But a stepmother and step-grandmother would be nice. Someone who would tuck them in at night. Someone who would bake cookies’every day. And someone who would make Dad and Grandpa smile.” Although the story of Dad and Grandpa is fiction, it’s based on a real dollhouse, its occupants and their make-believe life. The tale was written by Marilyn Crawford, the administrative assistant at the Pacific Palisades Chamber of Commerce. Crawford’s interest in collecting started thirty years ago with German closed-mouth bisque dolls circa 1850-1870s. After collecting the larger dolls for 12 years, she started selling them. “My taste began to change,” Crawford said. Eventually all the dolls found new homes and Crawford began collecting the tiniest dolls, their furniture and belongings. The men and children that Crawford refers to in her story are actually miniature dolls living in a dollhouse called Grey Manor, a two-story wooden structure two feet high by three feet wide. The entry doors are white with gold knobs and open on half-inch hinges. The doll house was built for Crawford 10 years ago by Dino Paganelli. He was in his garage building a rocking horse, and there was a dollhouse behind him, when she went by on one of her daily walks near the Westside Pavilion. She stopped and spoke with him, a scenario that was repeated many times over the next few months. “I never had a dollhouse when I was a child,” Crawford said, “and I wanted one so badly.” Eventually, Crawford asked him if he would build her one. “I’ve got a two-year waiting list and I’m 87,” Paganelli told her. “God is not going to take you until you build my dollhouse,” Crawford replied. Paganelli moved Crawford to the top of his list and started on her house about three months later. The construction process took about three months. He hand-cut and installed medium brown hardwood floors throughout the house, and constructed a simulated red brick chimney: each charcoal gray shingle was cut individually. The detail inside each room is amazing: a winding wooden staircase with a round window at the top’with individual panes of glass and French doors. Dollhouses such as Crawford’s are often exact replicas of houses of their time period, some of them so elaborate that they even have running water, although hers does not. In addition to the interior and exterior structure, collectors like Crawford pay a great deal of attention to the furnishings, which are either antique collectibles or replicas. For example, an inch-tall gold and green hurricane replica table lamp can be found for $18.25, a two-inch chandelier with three white lights and frosted globes is $40’and it goes without saying that both lights work. A year ago, she acquired a miniature toy store from 1917 sold by F.A.O. Schwarz. Some of the toys inside the shop were personally purchased by a dealer from Barbara and Elizabeth Mott, whose collection was exhibited at Knott’s Berry Farm in Buena Park from the 1950s to 1992. Currently, Crawford’s “store” is only about half-full of antique toys from the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s. She’s searching for more. The tiny planes on the wall are approximately a half-inch. The glass front door that opens has a tiny shade in the window complete with an itty-bitty pull. In addition to Gray Manor and her Toy Store, Crawford also has a miniature church which was built in Detroit in 1933. It is complete with stained glass windows, and doors that open. The roof comes off, so that one can see the tiny pews and the altar inside. Crawford found a yellowing card from the builder inside: “CR Gehle, Repair and refinish furniture; living room suites a specialty.” She has been told that it’s an exact replica of a church in Detroit. The fourth miniature building she owns is a red-roofed 1913 Gottschalk cottage house. The Moritz Gottschalk company of Germany was the premiere dollhouse maker during the late 19th and early 20th century, and their houses were characterized by exquisite craftsmanship. The cottage has flowers and flowerpots on the exterior of the porch with a watering pot all to scale. Since an original three-and-a-half-inch doll can run anywhere from $350 to $700, these dolls that were once a child’s playthings are no longer for children. “You have to be old or look old to get in my house,” Crawford says with a laugh. Has she found suitable mates for Grandpa and Dad? According to her story, “The quest for a good woman, one for Dad and one for Grandpa, began about two years ago. I searched and searched for that ‘special’ woman. They were either too plain, too fat, too old, or too blah! It was in Glendale I first laid eyes on her. She was just standing there looking out with her beautiful brown glassy eyes, white porcelain skin and rosy cheeks. Her outfit was a burgundy velvet long dress with a slight train in the back. She is so beautiful! This is the one for Grandpa! Alas, when I brought her home I knew she wasn’t for Grandpa. He was too short’too old’and’too small-boned! You guessed it; Dad got her! They are courting now, and Dad is always smiling and seems to be in a good mood, most of the time.” Grandpa’s sweetheart arrived shortly thereafter. “She is a slender lady dressed in dark green satin with black lace running down the front of her dress and covering her skirt. This lady is originally from Germany, but was found in Glendale, California.” Crawford isn’t ready to relax and enjoy the “happy” family she’s put together. “What I’m searching for now is another doll house, Victorian from the 1800’s in good shape and I’ll finish it with furnishings and occupants.” Crawford was born in Santa Monica and grew up in Venice. After graduating from Venice High, she married and took her first job at the Bank of America in Santa Monica. Since then she’s worked with the Locksley Group, the Wellness Community in Santa Monica, for the past six years, she’s been in the Palisades at the Chamber of Commerce. She has two daughters, Stacey and Lynne, and nine grandchildren. Both daughters are collectors: Lynne collects composite dolls from the 30’s and Stacey collects cookbooks from the 1900s through the 1950s. And are her grandchildren allowed in her house since they are neither old nor look old? “Of course’but they aren’t allowed to touch. They look at the individual pieces and point,” Crawford says, “Someday it will be theirs.”