Archives for posts with tag: MJ Saperstein


We only lived at 904 Benedict Canyon Drive for about a year, moving from Fryman Canyon in Studio City just before I turned three and then into Darren McGavin’s house on Canon Drive around the time I turned four. Though both the Fryman and Canon houses were lovely and spacious, the Benedict Canyon one was surely the grandest house I will ever live in, though I have only a few fleeting memories of it.

Known as El Encanto, the huge estate was built in 1927 and my mother used to say that if you forgot your hankie, you certainly weren’t going back from the driveway to the master bedroom to get it, since it would be such a trek. So it was already large, but according to current real estate listings, it seems to have gained even more square footage since it’s now listed with a whopping 12 bedrooms and 11 baths, which exceeds even what my sister recalls.

She remembers it being called “The Otto Preminger house” though I can’t find any record of him living there or owning it. However it was owned by “El Cid” screenwriter Philip Yordan and department store heir David May II at some point. It was on the market in 2012 for $15 million, after having last been sold in 1975 for a nausea-inducing $414,000.


During the 1970s it is said to have been a swinging party pad, according to photographer Brad Elterman, who snapped some great pics of debauched events there. According to the Then and Now blog, the architect or builder was Theodore J. Scott, who played a large part in giving L.A. its Spanish-Mediterranean look in the 1920s and ’30s.  It was also once home at to George Axelrod, screenwriter of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and playwright of “The Seven-Year Itch.”

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Just about all I remember is having my third birthday in the dining room, my parents bickering over adjusting our first color TV in the long solarium and being scared the the lions from the L.A. zoo might escape, run down Sunset Blvd. and leap onto the second floor balcony outside my room. The current updates seem to include some ill-advised nouveau Moorish fountains and extra stonework that does the clean vintage Spanish lines no favors.

It’s too bad I was too young to appreciate my only chance at living in a famous Beverly Hills mansion, but it’s fun to see the history behind it.


Kenny KingstonAt this point it’s surprising that any of my mother and father’s contemporaries are left. Kenny Kingston, who my mom hung out with at some point in the late ’60s or early ’70s, was a little younger than her; he died Monday at 87. My mom had a thing for psychics, gurus and other vaguely supernatural trappings. She threw Iching coins, played the Ouija board, conducted seances and read palms, as well as preparing astrological charts for her friends. game

She even roped me in with Kreskin’s ESP game, on which I did about as well as Kenny. I’m not sure how she met Kenny or if they ever really dated — she never had a real longterm boyfriend after she divorced my father and his Los Angeles Times obituary says he met his partner in 1970. Maybe there’s a story there, but I guess it’s too late to find out. Maybe they met on the Merv Griffin show; MJ appeared on the show to talk about her book “How to Tell if Your Husband is Cheating on You” while Kenny was a frequent guest. But as the L.A. Times points out, he wasn’t a particularly gifted psychic:

The predictions were often no better than those in an office pool. For example, in 1994 Kingston said he had it on good authority from the likes of Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson and James Dean that the acting winners would include Holly Hunter and Tommy Lee Jones. Those picks turned out to be correct, but the dead stars also wrongly picked Liam Neeson and Emma Thompson. The always genial Kingston, known for his oversized tinted glasses and ample mop of blond hair, blamed misfires on the dead stars, saying that they rigged it by choosing the people they wanted to win.

No matter, in Hollywood and especially in those days before and an internet full of paraprofessional fact-checkers, it was more about the presentation and bonhomie than the actual clairvoyant powers. We used to listen to him on the radio, and my mom was always happy to hear him and his tagline, “Sweet spirits!” Here’s to Kenny and the Jewish American Indian guru White Eagle Schwartz and the rest of MJ’s colorful cast of friends.

Larry Sloan was my mother’s editor at Price Stern Sloan, the groovy publishing company that put out her three books including “How to Tell if Your Husband is Cheating on You.” He died October 14 at 89, after a career that included being a Hollywood press agent and running that rare bird — a Los Angeles-based publishing company. Price Stern Sloan was sold to Penguin in 1993, according to this L.A. Times obit, but its heyday was the mid-60s to mid-70s, when “Mad Libs” took off alongside my mom’s books and “How to Be a Jewish Mother,” which I used to re-enact with a reel to reel tape recorder. Here’s a snippet from his obit:

Working from offices on La Cienega Boulevard in West Hollywood, Sloan directed the editing of manuscripts that often emphasized humor. As of 1973, the company had 150 titles — mainly original softcovers that sold for a dollar — and expected to gross about $1.6 million that year.