Pasadena Freeway

Patt Morrison's Column One piece on the Pasadena Freeway ("50 Years of Moving History," Dec. 21) should be anthologized in a textbook on writing. The author takes a lackluster subject and, with humor, history and the human angle, makes it fascinating. I read it in spite of myself (what do I care about the Pasadena Freeway? I live in San Diego County). A round of applause. More, please. DEBRA BALDWIN, Escondido

Residents along this perilous stretch of the Pasadena Freeway say they've seen and heard it all: screeching tires, shattering glass, mangled cars and drivers crying out for help. Only a fence and a concrete divider separate their neighborhood from three narrow, twisting lanes of the southbound 110 Freeway. Crashes are a backdrop to their lives, especially during the rainy season, and offering help to distressed drivers has become second nature. Still, residents were struggling with the tragedy that unfolded before their eyes Friday evening, just north of York Boulevard, when an SUV rear-ended a stopped Nissan Altima, causing it to burst into flames.

The Pasadena Freeway? That's so yesterday. Like stars here often do, Los Angeles' oldest freeway is getting a face-lift. The storied roadway is receiving new lighting, an improved center divider and decorative low walls along its shoulders. And to commemorate the changes, the California Department of Transportation has decided to rechristen the Pasadena Freeway back to its old name: The Arroyo Seco Parkway. It's a return to its roots for the eight-mile stretch of highway that connects Pasadena with downtown Los Angeles.

Each of the many freeways that crisscross our city has a personality. Interstate 710, still known to us L.A. old-timers as the Long Beach Freeway, is a working man hauling freight and merchandise day and night. The Santa Monica Freeway is ambitious and vain, an actor rushing to a casting call and zipping past you in his sports car. The oldest of them all is the Pasadena Freeway. He's your crotchety and eccentric grandfather. Stubborn, set in his ways, and still wearing fashions from the middle of the last century.

Each of the many freeways that crisscross our city has a personality. Interstate 710, still known to us L.A. old-timers as the Long Beach Freeway, is a working man hauling freight and merchandise day and night. The Santa Monica Freeway is ambitious and vain, an actor rushing to a casting call and zipping past you in his sports car. The oldest of them all is the Pasadena Freeway. He's your crotchety and eccentric grandfather. Stubborn, set in his ways, and still wearing fashions from the middle of the last century.

Residents along this perilous stretch of the Pasadena Freeway say they've seen and heard it all: screeching tires, shattering glass, mangled cars and drivers crying out for help. Only a fence and a concrete divider separate their neighborhood from three narrow, twisting lanes of the southbound 110 Freeway. Crashes are a backdrop to their lives, especially during the rainy season, and offering help to distressed drivers has become second nature. Still, residents were struggling with the tragedy that unfolded before their eyes Friday evening, just north of York Boulevard, when an SUV rear-ended a stopped Nissan Altima, causing it to burst into flames.

This is a reply to Lawrence Berg's letter relative to the freeway system and the city of South Pasadena (Times, July 16). Please be advised, Mr. Berg, that I have commuted from my home just north of Huntington Drive to downtown Los Angeles since 1961, and I have invariably found it quicker and less frustrating, at peak traffic hours, to use Huntington Drive, Broadway and Chinatown--yes, through Lincoln Heights--rather than the Pasadena Freeway....

On those rare times when cars in back let him get away with it, Andrew Johnston likes to slow down and admire the treasures hidden along the freeway. Over there are the stylized concrete railings that seem to have been crafted by artisans, not engineers. Up ahead is the unusual "compressed cloverleaf" that was once hailed as a traffic breakthrough. At the edge of the pavement are the remnants of ruby glass reflectors and curb lights that used to be so ahead of their time.

The eight-mile stretch between Glenarm Street in Pasadena and Avenue 26 in L.A. is a harrowing course of switchbacks and hairpin access ramps navigated by drivers who routinely exceed its 55-mph speed limit. On any ordinary day, stepping foot on it could mean losing a leg, if not your life, to a speeding SUV. Not so this Sunday. From 7 to 10 a.m.

The Pasadena Freeway? That's so yesterday. Like stars here often do, Los Angeles' oldest freeway is getting a face-lift. The storied roadway is receiving new lighting, an improved center divider and decorative low walls along its shoulders. And to commemorate the changes, the California Department of Transportation has decided to rechristen the Pasadena Freeway back to its old name: The Arroyo Seco Parkway. It's a return to its roots for the eight-mile stretch of highway that connects Pasadena with downtown Los Angeles.

I grew up thinking that California drivers were the best in the world. We may not have been very polite, especially in heavy traffic. But back in the glory days we California natives were savvy drivers. We were practically born behind a steering wheel, so it came easy to us. I learned the ins and outs of "defensive driving" before I learned my multiplication tables. My classroom was the back seat of a Volkswagen and my teacher was my father, who imparted instruction as he drove up and down the Hollywood Freeway.

He didn't know it, but when John Tun stepped from the Honda Accord onto the shoulder of Interstate 5, he entered a realm where flesh and blood are no match for the kinetic fate dealt by the freeway. As Tun's wife and two children huddled in the back seat, he and a friend examined a flat tire near Santa Clarita. It was about 1:40 a.m., too dark to see broken bits of vehicles scattered about. Too dark to see the Toyota pickup bearing down on them.

This week in 1940, California Gov. Culbert Olson and the 1941 Rose Queen presided over the official dedication of the Arroyo Seco Parkway, which in 1954 became the Pasadena Freeway. When the late John Gregory Dunne moved from New York City to Southern California, a local radio station had adopted a slogan: "The freeway is forever." Dunne wrote in an essay in 1978 that the slogan was "the perfect metaphor for that state of mind called Los Angeles."

Pasadena police were struggling Monday to solve a murder mystery that unfolded over the weekend in one of the city's toniest neighborhoods. It began with the sound of careening tires on Friday night on San Rafael Avenue, a street lined with regal mansions. A green-blue Honda pinballed off two mailboxes and a street light, slammed off the west curb and skidded across the street to the east curb before stopping in front of an estate.

A 34-year-old Glendale woman was in "extremely grave" condition and a male driver was in serious condition after they were shot in a car on the Pasadena Freeway shortly after the New Year started Friday morning, Los Angeles police said. Two or three men in a "dark-colored car" fired 15 to 20 shots at Frank Valenzuela's car as he drove on the northbound Pasadena Freeway between Avenues 43 and 52 about 12:30 a.m., Detective Bob Suter said.

Three Southland residents were killed early Saturday when their car veered off the southbound Pasadena Freeway and struck a tree, authorities said. Driver Juvy Angel Malit, 20, of Carson was killed, along with passengers Alden Villacorte, 20, of Los Angeles and Cyndy Lyn Balauag, 22, of Norwalk. The three were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident, which occurred at 3:15 a.m. north of the Golden State Freeway, said Officer Richard Perez of the California Highway Patrol.

The Pasadena Freeway was temporarily shut down Saturday afternoon after a police chase of a bank robbery suspect ended in gunfire, authorities said. A Pasadena police officer shot Gary Patrick Gabig, 49, of San Gabriel about 2 p.m. on the southbound Pasadena Freeway near Avenue 43 when Gabig drove his sport utility vehicle toward the officer, said police Lt. Tom Pederson. Gabig, who suffered a superficial chest wound, was later booked on suspicion of armed robbery, Pederson said.

Thousands of people rousted themselves from bed early Sunday for a rare opportunity: touching the pavement of a Southern California freeway closed to auto traffic. The event was ArroyoFest, which was billed by organizers as a chance to bike or walk along about a six-mile section of the Pasadena Freeway. The purpose was to give people a chance to take in the sights and sounds of the Arroyo Seco from its main thoroughfare. At 7 a.m.