Brass

Daniel Pinkham's oeuvre includes concertos and various chamber works, but he is best known for his choral and organ music. Sunday afternoon, the enterprising Pasadena Pro Musica brought the 66-year-old composer to its podium for a program of his own pieces, the familiar Easter Cantata of 1957 and the St. Mark Passion from 1965, plus the West Coast premiere of an attractive novelty, "The Saints Preserve Us!".

David Weddle's article "Swagland" (Jan. 16) suggests that media articles resulting from junkets can mislead readers. I was doing public relations for an architectural firm that designed the Contemporary Resort Hotel at Disney World -- a revolutionary project. Our firm and the Walt Disney Co. held a media event in Orlando, but the leading architectural magazine would not pay for an editor in New York to travel to Orlando. We offered to pay the editor's expenses, but his publication refused to accept the junket.

OK, Jason Reid, we get it! Kevin Brown makes a lot of money. How much? Oh yes, $105 million. What, we may not remember this sum? So you're going to tell us how much every time he pitches? Thank you, we wouldn't remember without your constant reminder. Your precious column inches would be better served by reporting that he keeps the Dodgers in every game he pitches and, when provided adequate defense, gives the team the opportunity to win each outing. This is what the Dodger brass is paying him the big bucks for and he's earning every penny.

A year and a half ago, as film and television production continued its exodus from Hollywood and many of the aging offices and storefronts along Hollywood Boulevard sat fractured or condemned by the Northridge quake or by MTA construction, John Peterson dreamed up an idea. "I'd clean up Hollywood's stars," he decided. He was homeless and unemployed, having lost his job as a television repairman. He walked on crutches, having lost a leg to amputation.

Suddenly Scrooge lost it. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks," he snarled, kicking the stool from under Tiny Tim. "Nephew-- you're out of my will! Cratchit, you're fired!" Scrooge was suffering from Delayed Holiday Stress Syndrome. Readers similarly afflicted are in the proper frame of mind to peruse our Humbug Awards, celebrating some of the tackier theatrical misdeeds of 1988. Let's start at the top, with the Royal Shakespeare Company. The RSC used to concentrate on doing Shakespeare.

The last three years have extracted a huge toll from Southern California businesses. Job losses have been staggering. Declines in two of the region's principal industries--real estate and aerospace--have been debilitating. And, perhaps more importantly, the Southland's once giddy, effervescent outlook has given way to sobered expectations for 1994 and beyond. From bankers to computer makers to telecommunications providers, Southern California business leaders are adapting to a radically changed environment--both on their home turf and internationally, under the two new global trade agreements signed recently.

Let's face it. When it comes to a spa visit, men frequently get the short end of the loofah. No amount of salt crystals and elbow grease can scrub away the fact that the spa experience is predominantly tailored to pamper, knead, wax and unwind women. But there are some local places where guys can comfortably cool their calloused heels, seek out some steam and solitude, and kick back for a few hours without feeling like a square peg in a round hole. Here are a few worth exploration: Beverly Hot Springs If the possibilities emanating from naturally heated, mineral-rich waters bubbling up from 2,200 feet below the surface of Los Angeles, a bubbling man-made rock waterfall and the warming sun streaming through a skylight into a hushed grotto just off Beverly Boulevard in East Hollywood don't nudge you toward Nirvana, you'll probably never get there.

IF it's been a year or two since you've shopped for a mattress, you're in for some surprises. That memory foam bed that once seemed so novel? It's now decidedly mainstream. Latex is the hot material of choice. And that's not all that's changed. Choices are multiplying -- especially on the luxury end -- and prices are too.

Principal Steve Elwood enters the narrow passageway where nobody else at Lee Williams High School dares to go. He leans low to open a half-sized hallway door, leading the way into a musty windowless chamber the size of a small tomb. Light pours into the cramped space, illuminating the dust that rises from the gravel floor like at an exotic archaeological dig. Even though it's mid-May, there's an odd chill to the air. The room isn't used for anything, yet it was somehow included in the building plans for the new school.