Inn Of The Seventh Ray Restaurant

Maybe it's an omen. Since June 13, the Inn of the Seventh Ray, the ethereal Topanga Canyon eatery that should rank high on any reasonable list of the world's most California enterprises, might better be called the Inn of the Eleventh Chapter. That's right. Chapter 11 for everybody's favorite New Age restaurant. Given its lovely setting and considerable reknown, how could the inn end up in bankruptcy court? Was it some inauspicious alignment of the planets? The solar eclipse? A cloudy aura? Nah.

Maybe it's an omen. Since June 13, the Inn of the Seventh Ray, the ethereal Topanga Canyon eatery that should rank high on any reasonable list of the world's most California enterprises, might better be called the Inn of the Eleventh Chapter. That's right. Chapter 11 for everybody's favorite New Age restaurant. Given its lovely setting and considerable reknown, how could the inn end up in bankruptcy court? Was it some inauspicious alignment of the planets? The solar eclipse? A cloudy aura? Nah.

Re "It Has an Aura About It" (Critic's Notebook, Sept. 27): Has anyone brought to your attention that Ken Hively's photo of the outdoor dining area of the Inn of the Seventh Ray restaurant is very like a Renoir painting? Just lovely! Thank you, and kudos to Mr. H. Betts Harley Costa Mesa

Ending a three-week nightmare of early morning commuting for Topanga residents, Topanga Canyon Boulevard reopens to 24-hour through traffic tonight. The road has been closed to residents for nearly eight hours daily--from 7:30 a.m. to 3 p.m.--the time allotted for construction crews to work on $2-million worth of repairs necessary because of damage from the Jan. 10 rainstorm.

Today: Ventura County Democrats elect delegates to the National Democratic Convention in New York at Democratic caucuses beginning at 3 p.m. In the 23rd Congressional District, which encompasses all of Ventura County except Thousand Oaks, supporters of Bill Clinton will meet at the Communication Workers of America hall, 399 Aviador St., Camarillo. Supporters of Edmund G. (Jerry) Brown Jr. will meet at the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers hall, 3994 E. Main St., Ventura.

In the wake of the Los Angeles riots, state and national candidates were quick to make inquiries about touring devastated areas. Some were less successful than others. Former California Gov. Edmund G. (Jerry) Brown Jr., for example, made a pair of phone calls to First African Methodist Episcopal Church pastor Cecil L. Murray to determine the best time to visit the church, which had become a central gathering spot and disaster relief site.

When it's open, it unites the Valley with the sea. When it's closed, it splits Topanga Canyon right down the middle. That's the effect that partially severed Topanga Canyon Boulevard is having on residents of the mountain hamlet between the San Fernando Valley and Malibu. An 80-foot washout has forced the off-again, on-again closure of the heavily used route since Jan. 10. And now state highway officials say a 17-hour-per-day shutdown will likely continue through the end of March.

Call it a counter-counterculture encounter. That may explain what happened to a roadside landmark that for years symbolized Los Angeles' most eclectic community. A giant peace sign that changed colors with the seasons and with the mood of its owner has disappeared from an oak-covered hillside above Topanga Canyon's main road. Somebody would not give this peace piece a chance. And quite a few mountain folks are fighting mad about it.

Proust could have written a whole novella about my flashback at Canopy of the Sky. It happened during the cashew nut loaf. Five of us were talking passionately about the Persian Gulf, the economy and the merits of beta carotene when suddenly all the heat, smoke and chaos of the '60s flashed before my eyes and I was back in a YWCA cafeteria at the University of Wisconsin in 1968. That was the last time I'd eaten a plate of cashews smeared with brown gravy. Ah, rash and misspent youth.

In a wide-open grass field surrounded by trees, a majestic mountain range and the silhouette of horses crossing the top of that range, strangers walk past each other, exchanging "hellos" on a recent Saturday afternoon in Topanga Canyon. It's easy to forget that you can stumble upon these casual, low-key moments in our sprawling metropolis, most of them played out in the nooks and crannies created by the region's canyons.