Finally got around to reading the LA Review of Books’ eulogy on Taylor Negron, who I’ve been amazed by since his turn with Rich Hall in Better Off Dead (pictured, Negron’s on the right). And I came to the following paragraph:
But Taylor was always meant for fabulous things. He was a local boy who grew up, in his own words, ?California Gothic.? His childhood house was in Echo Park, on grounds where the old Mack Sennett studio once stood, and there he watched black-and-white movies with his film-besotted grandmother. He came of age in Glendale during the Charlie Manson era, and he remembers seeing Joan Didion crying at the steering wheel of her green Jaguar ?on Moorpark, below Ventura.? He used to say, ?I remember when the palm trees were short and Tomorrowland was modern.? Taylor was made of Los Angeles ? woven from palm fronds and eucalyptus, red carpet and call sheets. He connected old Hollywood to new Hollywood. He knew Mae West and the Olsen twins. He knew everyone, worked with everyone, and was loved by all.
Something thrilled inside me a bit while reading this (probably the datum on Didion) and I wished more than anything that I knew Taylor Negron. And then I realized that I’d like to know anyone who’s lived in Los Angeles as long as he did. And that’s when I realized I like Los Angeles better than New York, and one way I know this is that I’d much rather hang out with a longtime Angelino than a longtime New Yorker.