from those of a Diaghilev ballet. Both the Flash Gordon serials and the Ballets Russes were highly in tune with my dad’s sense of aesthetics, for my dad without a doubt appreciated the art of dance. There are images of the dance world in his artwork, and he loved ballet. Or, I should point out, he loved the images of the ballet. I don’t recall him ever going to, or showing interest in actually attending, a dance recital. But I was raised with a variety of portraits of Vaslav Nijinsky in the family home. He never commented to me about his love for Nijinsky or the ballet. Many people would have sat you down and talked about why they liked a particular artist or entertainer, but not Wallace. His reasons were in his head, and he often showed his love for these artists in his artwork. I believe he felt that his art alone explained everything.
Wallace was also a huge admirer of Nijinsky’s diary, the disjointed writings of a man who lost the plot, but nevertheless left a large shadow of genius on its pages. Nijinsky being part of the Ballets Russes (the company started and controlled by Sergei Diaghilev with the help of Picasso, Erik Satie, and Jean Cocteau, among others) also held a tremendous appeal for Wallace. The dance world is a vast spectacle. For a sharp-minded borderline street thug like my dad, that world must have seemed impossible to attain, but reasonable to imagine. And while he never attended a ballet, Wallace was heavily into swing dancing. It was a portal through which to make progress in another culture, and he was never afraid to step through that entrance to see what was on the other side. One of the many pleasures of big band jazz was the dancing and the whole world within the dance club. Dancing also led to his discovery of numerous musicians who were part of the big bands, and in turn became part of the be-bop movement in jazz. That world never left my father’s aesthetic. As much as he took in contemporary music, he never tired of the late ’40s to early ’60s experimentation in sound, fury, and beauty known as be-bop.
The earliest artwork that exists to my knowledge by “Wally Berman” is the cover for Dial Records’ compilation Be-Bop Jazz (1947), renowned as the first appearance of Charlie Parker on a 78 rpm recording. It’s a highly collectible record on two fronts: one, if you’re a Charlie Parker fan, this is the holy grail of his recordings; and two, it was the first appearance of Wallace’s artwork for public consumption. The label head, Ross Russell, had a record store in Los Angeles that specialized in be-bop, called Tempo Music, which was located at 5946 Hollywood Boulevard. Besides the Downtown Library, this was the crucial location for Wallace. The record store was devoted exclusively to be-bop, and I imagine every great musician had been through its doors. Due to my father’s hanging out at the store, Russell hired him to draw the artwork for the cover. Wallace also went to the original recording session with Charlie Parker on March 28, 1946. He saw Parker as one of the great artists of his time, yet he never conveyed his thoughts on the session, or what it was like to be in the presence of Parker, or his favorite singer at the time, Billie Holiday. He told me that he delivered food or perhaps some pot for her, but I can’t remember which. Perhaps both?
WALLACE BERMAN / Untitled (Be-Bop Jazz Yellow Cover), 1948
The drawing had been made when he was a teenager, but Wallace was 20 when he selected it for the cover of Be-Bop Jazz. He also designed the original logo for the Dial label. Jazz has traditionally been an important element in the world of the arts, and Wallace was only one of many who felt its seductive pull. There was just an incredible amount of communication between the visual arts and the music. Around the same time that my dad was hanging out at Tempo Records, Boris Vian in France was in the process of opening the world of American jazz to the French public through his writing and his activity as an A&R man for various French labels. Although they never met, they clearly belong to the same generation of artists and writers who were drawn to jazz. Wallace had one foot in the jazz culture of his time, and the other in the fine arts. The jazz world called out to my father, and he embraced the sounds and culture with open heart and arms.
Loree Foxx / chapter 2
Wallace had had a very prominent girlfriend before my mom, and that was Loree Foxx, a born criminal who stole not only from people she didn’t know but also from anyone in her social circle and their families. She snatched objects like people breathe air. It came totally natural to her. Loree saw the world as a playground of thieving fun. She had the ability not to care if she was robbing from the rich or the poor, or even from pals. I have heard from my uncle, who became her boyfriend after Wallace, that Loree would start off her day by looking through fashion magazine ads, marking off each outfit and accessory she wanted. By that evening, her apartment would be filled with the clothing that she desired. Loree also had a knack for finding additional talented people who would allow themselves to become part of her gang of thieves. In her world, she was very much Fagin. Her mother had a thing for circus elephant objects: elephants in or on crystal snowballs, drawings, etchings, that type of stuff. Loree and her gang stole a circus elephant ride for kids that was parked in front of the entrance of a supermarket, and she gave it to her mom as a gift, which was highly unusual, since she never bestowed gifts. A reporter noticed the oversize kiddie ride in her mom’s yard and did a story on it. I’m sure Loree left the neighborhood for a moment or two till everything cleared up regarding the elephant ride scandal.
WALLACE BERMAN / Semina 2, 1957
Like my father with his cat, Loree had her version of Nerval’s lobster, keeping a pet alligator by her side. The reptile probably made her look like the prototype of a James Bond villain. At night, she would take her alligator out with a leash attached to its mouth and torso. My father agreed to keep an eye on the alligator from time to time when Loree’s living space was compromised. He placed the alligator in his mom’s bathtub. Anna, my grandmother, would scream whenever she had to use the bathroom. Every time she went in, the alligator made snapping sounds with its jaws, though she was perfectly safe, as long as she didn’t join the beast in the bathtub.
Wallace and Loree were the king and queen of the swing dance world in Los Angeles. My uncle Donald told me that my dad and Loree dominated the dance floor. Wallace was very much a zoot-suited jazz obsessive who danced extremely well. This makes perfect sense given his lifelong love for music—why not dance, as well? After Wallace’s death, my mom found his dance trophies at Grandma Anna’s house. I’m sure they weren’t of value to anyone because otherwise Loree would have stolen them and sold them off.
Wallace once played craps with another gambler in some vacant alley, and Loree was right beside him. The other player, who was losing and sore about it, was anxious to check the dice my dad was using. Loree immediately took the dice out of Wallace’s hands and threw them away, which, in turn, meant that my father got beaten to a pulp by the other gambler. Sadly, Loree was mistaken about the dice. They were not loaded.
I remember Loree from when I was a child. I remember thinking at the time, “Was she that bad?” She was neither here nor there for me, nor did I pick up on any troublesome vibrations from her. But alas, I think I was just small enough to fly under her radar. Loree was fascinating because she sounded to me like pure evil, yet she was very close to my parents and, of course, my uncle. Oddly enough, as far as I know, Donald only ever had one serious relationship with a woman, and it was with the queen of crime. I grew up in an environment where people were not judged for their weaknesses or faults. I never heard my father say a harsh word towards anyone. There never were any snap judgments, like “So and so is evil,” or “So and so is no good,” or any view of someone on a subjective level. All were accepted, or not. I hardly ever heard my parents condemn anyone for anything. Loree would break into the homes of her friends to steal without giving a second thought to the morality of it all. It never crossed her mind, or my parents’ or their friends’.
Loree once broke into our house in Beverly Glen to steal my mother’s passport, but once she found it, she realized it was
