Firehouse

I am concerned that the recent victory and extensive media coverage of Fire Captain Steve Johnson and his fight to read Playboy at the firehouse might leave the impression that all firefighters are pre-pubescent males with out-of-control hormones. Much of the news commentary I have seen and read has been directed at the lasciviousness of the magazine and the right to look at "girlie pictures." By the commentary, I can see that much of the media don't understand what firehouse life is really like.

As everyone who follows my colleague Steve Lopez's columns surely knows by now, the term “firehouse chef” no longer means what it used to. If you're thinking industrial-size portions of lasagna or pot roast and mashed potatoes, welcome to the 21 st century. But if you really wanted to know just how far we've come, you should have been at The Times on Thursday morning when eight local firehouse chefs visited the building at Lopez's invitation to vie for a shot at cooking at this year's Taste festival on Labor Day weekend.

A controversy is smoldering here over what to do with the abandoned firehouse on Ventura Boulevard, an aging station built on land donated decades ago by the family from which this city takes its name. Developers are anxious to convert it to an upscale shopping center. But preservationists are eager to transform it into a museum and cultural center. It all began earlier this year when Ventura County offered to sell the structure at 2474 Ventura Blvd.

In a poignant visit to the site that has come to symbolize both the trauma and triumphs arising from the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, President Obama placed a wreath at the fallen World Trade Center on Thursday and said the killing of Osama bin Laden upheld America's vow to "never forget" victims' suffering. As a gusty wind blew flower petals onto the ground, Obama set the wreath of red, white and blue flowers on a simple wooden stand and then stood silently for a minute, head bowed, eyes closed, hands clasped in front of him. A cluster of invited guests, most of them relatives of those killed on Sept.

This comes to you from the back of the firehouse, courtesy of Chief Terry Shaffer and the volunteer fire company. As if they hadn't performed enough good deeds in the last two weeks, the firefighters of Station 627 gave me a chair and a table and made me an office behind the first engine on the scene of the crash of United Airlines Flight 93.

The last of the writers-strike MIAs have returned. After more than a year, the boys are back at FX's "Rescue Me -- perhaps you've noticed them tromping around a Lilliputian New York in the ads for the new "Larger Than Life Season" -- and the vacation seems to have lightened their spirits considerably.

As everyone who follows my colleague Steve Lopez's columns surely knows by now, the term “firehouse chef” no longer means what it used to. If you're thinking industrial-size portions of lasagna or pot roast and mashed potatoes, welcome to the 21 st century. But if you really wanted to know just how far we've come, you should have been at The Times on Thursday morning when eight local firehouse chefs visited the building at Lopez's invitation to vie for a shot at cooking at this year's Taste festival on Labor Day weekend.

This season New York firefighters are back to spending the holidays with one another, back to the brotherhood and neighborhoods that have always sustained them. It seems the sisterhood -- or at least the women who "discovered" firemen after Sept. 11 -- is a little fickle. The cult of the hunk fireman is mostly over.

Christmas is a time for family and togetherness. And thanks to the Church Street firehouse of Simi Valley, we will have that blessed Christmas. It was a miracle that Capt. Phil Hadley, Mike Sidlinger, John Tucker and Steve Matsuura happened to be in the immediate area of the Elephant Bar & Restaurant and saved my husband's life by using a defibrillator on Oct. 22. We were having lunch and Verden was playing with his grandson, Christopher, when he was stricken. The employees of the restaurant called 911 and put him on the floor to make him more comfortable.

After its original home was badly damaged in the 1971 earthquake, the Echo Park Branch Library relocated to what was intended to be a temporary home. Fifteen years later, the library is still in the former office building at 515 N. Laveta Terrace, tucked out of sight on a cul-de-sac between the Hollywood Freeway and Temple Street.

My friend Lisa Morocco of the Westside Neighborhood Council knows first-hand that in this era of tight budgets, lots of people are feeling the pinch. She and the all-volunteer members of her council have tried their best to help out, even as the distress calls outrun the supply of available cash. The council has bought books for libraries, crayons for schools and even handcuffs for police. I kid you not. But Morocco thought a firefighter at Station 92, on Pico Boulevard near Overland Avenue, was joking when he gave her this nugget: The station's old, portable air-compressor system is useless for inflating firetruck tires, and fixing it or getting approval for a new one could take half a century.

Dear SOS: My family and I just returned from a great trip to South Carolina. While we had fabulous food at a few different places, our absolute best meal of the trip was at the Old Firehouse in Hollywood. The restaurant specializes in local seafood and produce and, while all the meals we had there were delicious, their Hollywood Shrimp was nothing short of amazing. Carol Hatley Manhattan Beach Dear Carol: Old Firehouse was happy to share its recipe for this simple but amazing dish.

The story goes that restaurateur Herbert Somborn created the original Brown Derby on Wilshire Boulevard after a friend issued this challenge: "If you know anything about food, you can sell it out of a hat." OK, but what about a gas station or a church -- or a mortuary? No problem. In Southern California, movie sets change every day, and so do buildings: Numerous eateries have unusual real-life pasts.

The last of the writers-strike MIAs have returned. After more than a year, the boys are back at FX's "Rescue Me -- perhaps you've noticed them tromping around a Lilliputian New York in the ads for the new "Larger Than Life Season" -- and the vacation seems to have lightened their spirits considerably.

There was the time the kitchen became a bit too smoky in the restaurant Engine Co. No. 28 and an alarm sounded. One of the diners in the former fire station asked, "Is this part of the show?" a manager recalled. On other occasions, diners have inquired whether any firefighters would be sliding down the brass pole in the main dining area. And, if not, could a customer have a try? His girlfriend would take off her shoes, one diner promised.

Five years after his retirement, ex-firefighter Tom Bramell still likes to visit Station No. 6 for old times' sake, whistling in amazement at all the changes -- the strange faces and slick high-tech engines. But one thing remains exactly the same, and it's what Bramell misses the most about his firefighting days. The sturdy little object hangs from the ceiling in the firehouse's engine bay, emitting its familiar faint orange glow. He calls it the long-lived lightbulb of Livermore.

In response to the article, "Vargas Doesn't Want to Take More Swings at De La Hoya" (July 15), in which Vargas announced he was giving back to his community by donating $1,000 to the gym. Had he left it at that, I would not have been compelled to write this letter, but I was upset when Vargas took some cheap shots at Oxnard city officials. As past president of La Colonia Youth Boxing Assn., it was one of my duties to interact with city officials. Although it wasn't always a walk in the park, if it wasn't for certain city officials, there wouldn't be a La Colonia Youth Boxing Club.

The producers at "American Idol" wanted to shore up a dramatic slide in ratings for the show's newest season, so they added three star judges and even allowed viewers to vote online for favorites up to 50 times simultaneously. The changes for the 12th season didn't help. Ratings have plummeted by double digits for the second year in a row, down this season by 18%, to 15.8 million total viewers, according to Nielsen. In its fifth season in 2006, "Idol's" average audience was more than twice as large.

Dennis Dugan's approach to filmmaking is always leave them laughing. "All I want to do is make people laugh," says the actor-turned-director. "Actually, not just when I go to work but all the time. It's what I do. It's my strength." Though he hasn't actually made critics laugh heartily, audiences have guffawed over the comedies he's made with Adam Sandler: "Big Daddy" and "Happy Gilmore." His latest collaboration with Sandler, "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry," opens Friday.

He usually leaves it parked outside. But on hot summer days, Paramedic Brent Ruff tries to keep his ambulance cool by squeezing it into a garage that is so tiny, he has to suck in his stomach to shimmy out the driver's door. It's been a tight fit for more than half a century in Woodland Hills, where the local firehouse is just that: a house. Measuring about 1,500 square feet, Fire Station 84 is one of the smallest in Los Angeles. Soon, though, it will become one of the city's largest.