Mr. D's Birthday... A Tribute to the "Dad of Harding Avenue"

It's a little bizarre that I had a dream last night about my dad.  It's been 29 years since my dad died and I still have dreams that include him...but that's not the weird part - the thing that made it so interesting to me was that today (Sept 1st,) is his birthday. Coincidence? I don't know, call it what ever you want, but since today is Carl R. Dahlin's birthday, I think I use this Labor Day Blog as a pictorial tribute to a truly great man and awesome dad!

Let's go back to the beginning...first of all Dahlin is a Swedish surname. My Dad's family immigrated from Sweden into Canada and then into the United States where they settled in Michigan - Those Swedes always looking for cold weather I guess.

Here is a picture of little Carl growing up in a Suburb of Detroit!


Dad's mom and two of his sisters. His mom is direct descendant of Leif Ericson (you know the guy who discovered America)!





Two of his blonde haired-sisters with all of the recessive genes you'd expect as Swedish imports!



Aunt Sally and Aunt Pearl

 Enlisted in the Army   Oh by the way - Watch out Elvis (Good looking guy right?)

Rising through the ranks - Staff Sergeant   Teaching hand to hand combat (Martial Arts to the Marines)

Meets a sweetie pie from Santa Monica - Hilberta Joan Sommer (her tribute blog post ) 

they get married and start having babies - He's not quite sure how to change diapers at first...

My mom's not sure how to do baby laundry at first...

 Four boys and the 'O Ford Woody

  

Late 50's  - early 60's begins selling lots at Salton Sea... An Inland Sea Paradise destined to rival Palm Springs... 

Four oldest Brothers and Ian Williamson (a neighbor friend who is about 9 feet all) 







Five boys then comes the First GIRL yeah! 

















Paints the VW van  red - eight of us on Easter Morning 1960 (with "Nana" in the van - my mom's mother). 











They get the hang of it ("hang" of it - get it? it's pun based on pictures above) and begin to have lots and lots of really beautiful children...to many kids for small house on Euclid in Santa Monica and buy the big house on Harding in Venice.

 He takes all 132 of us to Kings River

 Then lots of fishing! There he is on Santa Monica pier baiting hooks!

Fishing below Pine Flats Dam (Kings River) 1962 

He takes us to Salton Sea...  Dad is laying on the ground taking a nap! (Who knows what Karl and Steve Smith are doing?)  I'm flexing (some things don't change). 

My dad let Bill Lennon and the famous singing Lennon Sisters move into to Harding with all 11 of their kids. 

He also let Don and Mary (Lennon) Blaser move in right next door... and their 9 kids! 

Tommy Blaser out in front of the Blaser house with Karin (my baby sister) and Mr. Blaser's Lincoln Continental in driveway and the Fraternity house pictured in background 900 Harding Avenue.   

Then my dad let another Lennon Family move in across the street - Bob and Jeanette and their nine kids... We were surrounded by Lennons, 36 of them - with our mob we had enough to take over the World. 

  More Real Estate 

Then partners with Don Blaser - Dahlin/Blaser Realty

Another new car  - 1967 Ford Esquire Station Wagon will all the  bells and whistles and FM RADIO! 

 As the official designated unofficial Mayor of Venice _ I.e President of the Venice/ Marina Lions Club...President of the Venice/Marina Chamber of Commerce...Board member of Bank of Marina Del Rey...Treasurer of Venice Boy Scout Troop 32... President of the Venice board of Real estate (in other words he was involved in everything -  which made it mandatory for him to Golf!  

He brought home lots of Trophies... he won many closets to pin and Long Drive competitions! 

....earning him the occasional nap! 

 

not the most flattering picture (I know), but not only were my brothers ornery so was my sister and her gaggle of friends... Weenie Tripp, Theresa Blaser, Debi Gas, Mimi Lennon, Mary Blaser, Theresa McCarthy, Sally Lennon and an bunch of others who would put his hair in those great, big, giant, pink-foam curlers and put make-up on his face while he was sleeping and then sneak out and without saying a word and let the poor guy wake up and and head out doors into the neighborhood...without suspecting a thing -  looking like (Well, use your imagination)!  

Dad with Karl and Bob (at Bob's wedding with my 1959 220s Mercedes convertible in the background). 

with a bunch of us in the front yard... too many to name...

 With Ray Vandermark and little Mary Blaser and Barbara Blaser and Mrs. Blaser and me and Tony and Steve Kissel and Pinky Parlett, and David Smith and Theresa McCarthy Dahlin, Marylee (top) and Billy Blaser right in the middle of it all. 

Goofing around with Christine Blaser and Sally Lennon and little Mary Blaser and Theresa. 

with mom and crazy dog "Bluin" who got the frontal lobotomy from Veloci-Rooster (post XXX) 

messing around with wigs  circa 1980 

even the dog gets a wig makeover 

Dad hold pictures of his parents

diagnosed with cancer 1983...

begins losing weight... 

With Peggy Lennon (other "Harding" Lennons the one with 13 kids) 

His Last Birthday party at the Blaser's house everyone singing "Happy Birthday Mr. D" written by Markie Lennon.

Surrounded by the family, near the end. 

Dies January 25th 1985

Saint Mark's church filled to capacity as Lennon Sisters sign the "Our Father" as we commend his spirit into the loving arms of our Father who is in Heaven. 

  

If I had to guess, I'd say he's probably goofing off in heaven right now and golfing with Bill Lennon and with some of the other good 'O boys from the "Harding Ave Gang"...  (pictured Frank Nargie) 

....when he's not fishing with Karl (RIP). 

I miss you Dad!  We miss you dad and Venice misses you!

 Circa 2014 

Hang in there Dooh-Dooh Pants!

(Continued from last time) "Hang in there Dooh-Dooh Pants!"

11-year-old Dooh-Dooh Pants was on a paddle-board (much to large for him), helplessly being carried down river to his impending doom at the waterfall of sure and torturous death that we called the, "Cow Blender."

Dad was running across the bridge with 50 feet of rope that he had tied into a slip-knot.

Chewbacca was screaming for dad to save the old LA county, Life-Guard paddle-board we "borrowed" from the beach. 

Mom was praying to Saint Anthony.

14 year old Gustav was running after dad followed by Ulrich, followed by Puke Breath who was hobbling on his crutches...
   ...followed by me, after I ran into the guard rail and had finally taken the shopping bag off my head...
   ...followed by all the rubber-neckers who rushed to get front row seats to see an 11-year-old
                    get pulverized to a bloody puree in the "Cow Blender Falls."

Mayhem...broke out with everybody running and screaming...as Dooh-Dooh Pants was swept underneath the low bridge as though his fate was sealed. The crowds had resigned themselves to Dooh-Dooh Pants' imminent assignation with such a gruesome fatality. 

With some guess work, dad lowered his large loop over the side of the bridge just as Dooh-Dooh Pants emerged from underneath the gloomy darkness that foreshadowed the doom downriver. 

Guess work...or Saint Anthony...or luck, I'm not sure; maybe all three - but that rope went right over Dooh-Dooh Pants' head... and slipped right down around his flailing arms. Nothing, could have been better!

He was saved! Everyone began to cheer except for two teenagers from Rio Linda who wanted to see his body torn from limb to limb.  They were standing on the rail and I felt like pushing them in. Only, I didn't have the bag over my head and I certainly didn't want to see what would happen, when they got sucked over the spillway that hungered for fresh flesh.

                                  "One cow, two teenage milkshake...coming right up." 

I knew I had to go to confession for that one.

As the slip-knot tightened, it tugged Dooh-Dooh Pants backwards which caused him to panic.  Forcing his body against the rope, he bent  forward and clutched the paddle-board. As the rope tightened it inched its way up his arms and popped off over his shoulders.

Dad, afraid of losing Dooh-Dooh Pants, gave one desperate tug on the rope which ended up constricting around Dooh-Dooh's neck like a noose. The crowds gasped...as they realized the gravity of the situation. The cure was now worst than the sickness. Either way Dooh-Dooh Pants was dead; killed by friendly fire... hung by the neck that was meant to keep him from ending up like that shredded dead cow.

However, dad wasn't about to let go. Gustav and Chewbacca and Ulrich and Kleghorn and me... we all began pulling the rope along with dad... but the board spun parallel to the bridge and began to roll sideways in the current as though Dooh-Dooh was like a chicken on a rotisserie.  Spinning and spinning and spinning.

As he spun around and around...above water, under water, above water, under water - over and over again the rope wrapped around his body, lashing him to the paddle-board like one of Snidely Whiplash's victim that had been tied to train tracks.

Rope around his neck...lashed to the paddle-board... and being systematically drowned... it did not look good for Dooh-Dooh Pants. Desperately gulping air in the momentary spurts as he spun above water it seems like he didn't have much longer to go until our failed rescue attempt - killed him for sure.

All of us were going to go to prision!

Mothers were shielding the eyes of young ones... Children were shrieking... Mom was praying with one eye open and one eye closed... the Rio-Linda teens were gushing with morbid delight... and the Dahlin tribe was pulling - as accessories to murder.

The board flipped one last time, trapping Dooh-Dooh underneath.
      

       Death!

Face down, Dooh-Dooh Pants' body acted as a rudder and at the last second just before he was about to go over the horrid falls the board shot sideways toward shore and lodged in a bush.

Dad ran, we followed. Dad flipped the board and Dooh-Dooh Pants was dead.  Dad loosened the rope around his neck and pumped water out of his lungs!  I cryed and stuck the bag over my head!

A minute later Dooh-Dooh Pants' eyes opened and the crowds cheered. It was a miracle and another Dahlin great adventure.  I borrowed Puke-Breaths crutches and have "no idea" how I ended up tripping the two sadistic teens into a puddle of mud...obviously it had to be an accident, since I had that silly bag over my head...hehehehe!

28 Half-Naked Aborigines...and the failed rescue attempt!

(continued from last post Part 2) We packed all 28 of us half-naked, blonde-haired, Venice Aborigines into that old 1959 Volkswagen van, strapped down the over-sized paddle-board on top and headed for a glorious week at the Kings River. 

We weren't really aborigines and there really wasn't 28 of us. It just felt like there was 28 of us in that over-sized VW sardine can...and with our platinum blonde hair, tan bodies and in our half-clad state of dress, we were called that by a lady at gas station in Porterville when she found out that we were from Venice.

"Those children will grow up to be hippies" she said, glaring at us with flared nostrils and one lifted eyebrow of utter disdain. 

"Roy, I hope that's not prophetic" mom said to dad as he pushed down hard on the gas-pedal, leaving that stuffy lady chocking in a cloud of smoke from our poorly adjusted carburetor.   

We had spent the first couple days splashing around in a calm tributary that lulled us into a false state of security. 

There is my dad with nine of us. Just look at that!  Tell me that doesn't seem like 28 kids?

I'm the little pudgy one - right in front of my dad's knee.

 

 Swinging on ropes

 

 Water fights... 

Good old fashioned, safe - fun in the sun. 

Next, we loaded up for a day's excursion for a fishing trip below the Pine Flats Dam. 

When we crossed over the bridge, it was a gruesome sight to see a dead cow spinning and bobbing and trapped in the turbulent clutches of the water that flowed over the spillway just below the bridge. Taking it in, my dad slowed on the bride. Obviously that 'O cow was no match for the force of the water that pulled everything under the surface which had managed to float down river and get caught spilling over the cement embankment of the small waterfall. Mom put a bag over my head because she thought I was going to vomit.

"Choke 'em, mom! Choke 'em" Ulrich yelled to mom, urging her to squeeze the bag around my neck.

As we sat there and watch (not me of course, I had a bag over my head - but I could tell) the older boys were even grossed-out with the graphic image of the blood and how the skin was being pealed off that cow as it got sucked back down, then returned to the surface, then back down, and back up, twisting and spinning as if on a bent barbeque spit. 

"Holy cow!" Dooh-Dooh Pants said with a chuckle.  Thump, went Gustav's hand to the back of his head, thinking this was nothing to make fun of.

"Ouch!" screamed Dooh-Dooh Pants a little too loud...as if pleading for dad's intercession. 

"Silence is golden" dad said sternly, as we all paused for a moment of silence when we saw flowers and a small cross someone had erected as a memorial.

Little did we know at the time, that the horrific scene we were grimacing at - was indeed a omen.

Pulling the Micro-bus into the dirt lot, we oozed out of that hot van like a teenager's pimple under pressure. Dooh-Dooh Pants had just cut the cheese and it was more like we had shot out of that thing. 

To the left is a picture of our grandiose paddle-board.  It was as big as a Sherman tank itself, made of plywood and coated in 42 coats of resin...(This time when I say 42...I mean 42), it was as heavy as that Volkswagen van.  Look, that's me and another kid standing on it - in the safe waters of our little tributary.That board could hold 8 of us, if we wanted to pile our bodies that high (we did sometimes, but mostly fights broke out).

The older boys took turns on the paddle board in the big river, below the dam.

Puke-Breath had a cast on his leg, so after the two oldest boys gave the paddle-board a whirl around the main branch of the Kings River it was Dooh-Dooh Pants' turn (he was the fourth born and wanted to do everything the older boys did).  The only problem was that he wasn't as old, or as big, or as strong (and certainly not as smart) as the two older boys. Dooh-Dooh Pants shot out from the shallow shoreline where the water was moving slow and got caught in the faster current in the middle. 

No one thought too much about it at first...UNTIL. Until, Dad began yelling at Dooh-Dooh Pants to paddle the great, big, honking battleship back to shore.

Seeing how Dooh-Dooh Pants was powerless against the swift current, that's when the bolt of light hit us all at the same time. It was just like something out of the Twilight Zone as if  we were all watching the same thing being projected on the screen - something that my dad had already seen. It wasn't a cow that we all suddenly visualized in the spillway blender that was being sucked under and torn to shreds - No! It was Dooh-Dooh Pants whose bloodied carcass we visualized that was bobbing up and down in the deadly vortex below the bridge.

I ran to the van searching for the bag to put over my head...

My dad grabbed the rope that had been used to tie down the board and sprinted for bridge hoping to make it there before Dooh-Dooh Pants drifted underneath. Mom and all of us kids scurried along begin as fast as our little legs would carry us with Puke-Breath hobbling behind and me with that brown shopping bag over my head. I could see down to my feet but that was all and ran into two trees and Puke-Breath once, who hit me with his crutch. 

While he was running dad had managed to tie a slip-knot (he was really good at tying slip-knots). Unfortunately, he had arrived just a half-second too late to lower the rope before Dooh-Dooh Pants shot underneath the bridge flailing and screaming (and if I could wager a guess, he was probably cutting the cheese). 

"Dad, get 'em" Chewbacca yelled, upset about all the coats of resin he painstakingly painted on that giantic board, knowing it was about to be splintered into a million pieces. 

Dad ran across the hot asphalt to the other side of the brige hopeing he could catch Dooh-Dooh Pants on the way out. He lowered the large loop over the railing - guessing - hoping - and calculating to the best of his ability where he thought Dooh-Dooh Pants might come emerging from underneath.

After running into the railing, I took the bag off my head. It wasn't looking too good and mom prayed to Saint Anthony - the Catholic Patron Saint of "lost causes."

I'll tell you the gruesome details next time... Let's just say... it wasn't pretty!

I should have kept the bag on my head!