Kostas Andreou, Whose Boulevard Newsstand Sold the World's Papers for Half a Century, Dies at 89
The kiosk was the size of a closet and stocked, at its peak, more than four hundred titles, and he knew where every one of them sat without looking.
Obituaries
Remembering the lives of our community.
Emory Vance, Studio Carpenter Who Built Worlds That Lasted a Week, Dies at 88
For more than four decades he framed sets, staircases and standing exteriors on Hollywood lots, taking a craftsman's pride in work built to convince, then be struck.
Harold Bettancourt, Whose Used Bookshop Was a Refuge Off the Boulevard, Dies at 83
For nearly fifty years he ran a crowded shop of secondhand books where the aisles were narrow, the cat was in charge, and no one was ever hurried toward the door.
Otis Pruitt, Who Drove the Same Hollywood Bus Line for Three Decades, Dies at 88
Riders set their mornings by him, and when he pulled to a stop a minute early he would wait the minute out with the doors open rather than leave anyone behind.
Manny Sable, Whose Boulevard Souvenir Shop Sold Hollywood to the World for 52 Years, Dies at 86
He stocked thousands of snow globes of a place that never snows, and made no apology for any of it. The tourists wanted a piece of Hollywood to carry home, he said, and it was an honest trade to sell them one.
Winifred Trask, 94, Whose Steady Hand Inked Four Decades of Cartoons
She spent her working life in the ink-and-paint department, tracing an animator's pencil roughs onto celluloid a frame at a time, a craft that vanished with the arrival of the computer.
Margie Dunlap, Who Fed the Boulevard's Night Shift for Forty Years, Dies at 86
From behind a small lunch counter off Hollywood Boulevard she served cabbies, cops and the occasional star on their way down, and never once printed a menu because everyone already knew it.
Estela Villalobos, Who Baked Hollywood's Bread Before Dawn for Four Decades, Dies at 82
Her workday began at eleven at night and ended as everyone else's was starting. The loaves at a dozen counters were hers, and most of the people who ate them never knew her name.
Cornelius Boothe, Who Ran a Downtown Hotel's Hand-Operated Elevator for 46 Years, Dies at 94
He could stop a manual elevator level with the floor to within the thickness of a coin, without looking, and he ran the mahogany car as a kind of moving lobby where guests told him things they would not tell the front desk.
Marvin Sokol, Who Bent the Glass That Lit the Boulevard, Dies at 89
For six decades he shaped and repaired the neon tubing behind Hollywood's marquees and shop signs, a trade of burned fingers and held breath that has nearly vanished.