LA Confidential #2 -- Seeing Stars

   I dare you to listen to the Kinks' song "Celluloid Heroes," from their 1972 album Everybody's in Show-Biz, and not hang your head and cry. In its aching chorus, singer Ray Davies plaintively outlines the pains of fame and its failures:

You can see all the stars as you walk along Hollywood Boulevard
Some that you recognize, some that you've hardly even heard of
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame
Some who succeeded and some who struggled in vain.

   It's true. On the Saturday of our whirlwind Memorial Day weekend L.A. jaunt, Jared and I took in the Boulevard, which was its usual tourist-clotted mess. Outside Grauman's Chinese Theater, people matched hand sizes with the stars' cement prints. Pros, dressed up as movie characters, posed for photos. Young African-American men attempted to interest passers-by in their home-produced hip-hop CDs.
   And, oh, the rockin' fashions:

Work that shizznit, bizzles! 

   We visited the always-fabulous Larry Edmunds Bookshop, where I picked up John Waters' riotous and touching Role Models. Jared bought a long out-of-date movie magazine featuring his latest obsession, the silent film star Clara Bow--the "It Girl" sex symbol of roarin' 1920s America.
   But for Jared, a Clara Bow magazine, no matter how precious, was mere foreplay. Decked out in a green t-shirt emblazoned with Ms. Bow's likeness, he led the hunt for her Hollywood star. We found it right where a website or two told us we might: on Vine Street south of the Boulevard. Jared squealed upon seeing it, as any fan worth her salt would do.
   We were equally appalled and amused to note that the star sat directly in the path of cars exiting a parking lot. That made for a bit of a challenge to get The Pic, but after a few minutes and a break in the traffic, we did:

Miss Clara Bow?! Haaaaaaayyyyyy!

  

   Jared remained unfazed that cars drive over the lovely Ms. Bow's star, like, eighty million times a day.
   "She's tougher than that!" he cried, echoing the sentiment in one of the "Celluloid Heroes" verses:

If you covered him with garbage
George Sanders [whose star we saw] would still have style
And if you stamped on Mickey Rooney [ditto]
He'd still turn 'round and smile
But please don't tread on dearest Marilyn [double ditto]
Cuz she's not very tough
She should have been made of iron or steel
But she was only made of flesh and blood. 

   Clara Bow flew under Ray Davies' radar; unlike Rudolph Valentino, Greta Garbo, Bette Davis and Bela Lugosi, she missed out on claiming a place in rock's finest paean to Hollywood's lost mid-20th century glory and glamour.
   But I'm sure she doesn't mind. As the song's last line says, "Celluloid heroes never feel any pain/And celluloid heroes never really die."
   So you shine on, sparkling sister.