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Jesse Gregory James

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NEWS
July 10, 2002 | MICHAEL P. LUCAS, TIMES STAFF WRITER
You might want to bring ear protection if you visit Long Beach's unlikeliest tourist attraction, because Jesse Gregory James' workshop is a temple of glorious thunder: It rumbles deeply from oversized stereo speakers drumming out punk music; it rings dully from a 50-ton power hammer; and it cracks sharply from the chrome pipes of freshly minted $100,000 motorcycles. West Coast Choppers sits in an aging building on a gritty corner of Anaheim Street in the city's industrial district.
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NEWS
July 10, 2002 | MICHAEL P. LUCAS, TIMES STAFF WRITER
You might want to bring ear protection if you visit Long Beach's unlikeliest tourist attraction, because Jesse Gregory James' workshop is a temple of glorious thunder: It rumbles deeply from oversized stereo speakers drumming out punk music; it rings dully from a 50-ton power hammer; and it cracks sharply from the chrome pipes of freshly minted $100,000 motorcycles. West Coast Choppers sits in an aging building on a gritty corner of Anaheim Street in the city's industrial district.
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MAGAZINE
April 9, 2006 | Elizabeth Khuri, Elizabeth Khuri is the assistant editor for West's style section and the former managing editor of SOMA magazine. She has also written for Women's Wear Daily.
Jesse James has definite ideas about fashion. He knows what he likes, and what he doesn't. The plaid shirt he's wearing buttoned up to the rim of his beefy neck--a shirt from the West Coast Choppers line that you can buy at Wal-Mart for $20--is something he likes. Of course he does: He designed it. He also likes the enzyme-washed, deconstructed T-shirts silk-screened with images of pistols and skulls that are hanging on racks in an office down the hall from his workshop in Long Beach.
ENTERTAINMENT
December 1, 2002 | REED JOHNSON
Jesse James was grinning like a man who'd just robbed a bank. It was midafternoon, and the scene was a massive Long Beach garage where a Discovery Channel camera crew rubbed shoulders with an elite team of grease monkeys. Blues and rock music from a boombox nearly drowned out the scream of power tools, but not quite.
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