Ask the Dust

Good evening.

The following are

the lowest temperature estimates

for California citrus areas.

Lowest temperatures tomorrow night

will be somewhat higher than tonight

and only light scattered firing late

in the morning should be necessary.

Corona District:
Corona 29,

Arlington 28, Riverside 27,

Highgrove 27, Elsinore 26, Marino 26.

Clear and calm, firing for lemons will be

necessary beginning about 2:00 a.m.

And for oranges, about 4:00 a.m.

High ceiling. Dew point 31.

Redlands District: Hemet 28,

Redlands 26,

Highlands 26, Rialto 25,

Bloomington 25,

Colton 25, Fontana 25. Ukipa 26...

Well, the night before I met her,

I was in my hotel room on Bunker Hill

down in the very middle of Los Angeles.

It was called the Alta Loma.

It was built on a hillside in reverse

so that the main floor

was on a level with the street.

My room was down on the fifth floor

so that my window was on a level

with the green hillside,

and there was no need for a key.

The window was always open.

I'd been going over the plans I'd made,

since I'd come here like everyone else

in search of fortune, fame, good health

and glamorous women.

Only I was going to be different.

Only I was going to be different.

I wasn't here to search for my future.

I was here to create it.

I'd write the first great novel

about this place

and everybody who came here

from somewhere else.

The Road to Los Angeles

by Arturo Bandini.

It would bring me everything

I ever wanted.

Now, after five months, I was trying

to make a very important decision.

What to do with my last nickel.

"Mr. Bandini, it has now been six weeks

since you've paid the rent.

"Four dollars per is mounting

like the national debt.

"Either you pay $24, every penny,

or pack up and leave."

It was her sixth note in six weeks.

Pretty humiliating.

My landlady was getting

more writing done than I was.

She was the kind of woman

who increased her height

by rising on tiptoe

and peering at me over her glasses.

- I'd like a room.

- Do you have a job?

I'm a Writer.

I'll be with you in a moment, Mr. Archer.

wrote that.

Here. What's your name?

Mrs. Hargraves, why?

"For Mrs. Hargraves.

"A Woman of ineffable charm,

"With lovely blue eyes

and a generous smile.

"From the author, Arturo Bandini."

"The Little Dog Laughed."

I hate dog stories.

Bandini. Young man,

are you a Mexican?

Me, a Mexican?

I'm an American, Mrs. Hargraves.

And that isn't a dog story, either.

We don't alloW Mexicans in this hotel.

I'm not a Mexican,

and there isn't a dog in the whole story.

We don't alloW Jews, either.

I got that title after the fable, you know,

"And the little dog laughed

To see such sport"

So you're an author. How nice.

Here we are, Mr. Bandini.

This is one of my very favorite rooms.

There are windows on two sides,

which makes it extremely airy.

It's $4 a week,

and I expect to be paid in advance.

Now that includes cleaning

but no laundry. we never do...

Through that window,

I saw my first palm tree

not six feet away,

but the palm was blackish

at its branches.

- And no girls in the room.

- I'll take it.

Stained by carbon monoxide

coming out of the Third Street Tunnel,

its crusted trunk choked

with dust and sand

that blew in from the Mojave

and Santa Ana deserts.

what jerk's gonna believe

I made it all the way

from Colorado to downtown L.A.

without seeing one goddamn palm tree?

Kid?

Kid?

Kid.

Do you like milk?

Yes, Hellfrick. I like milk.

Okay, then.

Here's the plan.

The Adohr man's a friend of mine.

Rvery morning at 4:00,

he parks his truck behind the hotel

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