#the orange county register

[nicolagriffith]

Menewood? Going well!

How's Menewood doing? Pretty well: two great reviews out so far. I had a fabulous time on Launch night—with pictures!. There are three interviews are up. And Menewood debuted well in audio.

[webercreative]

Joy of scanning the paper on a Sunday morning

Yep, I’m here defending the value – not just the past – of self curated news consumption I think it would truly benefit our industry (journalism), as well as what should be in my opinion a hallmark of our society (being an informed one) if more newspapers chose The New York Times online model. Its layout captures the ergonomic integrity of the scanning read (allowing the reader to make choices…

[tumsozluk]

How the Bob Iger era changed Disneyland forever – Orange County Register

How the Bob Iger era changed Disneyland forever – Orange County Register

Bob Iger’s tenure will be remembered for his light touch at Disneyland, his surgeon’s scalpel at Disney California Adventure and the acquisitions of Pixar, Marvel, Star Wars and 20th Century Fox that will shape new attractions bound for the Anaheim theme parks for years to come. The Disney executive chairman has begun signaling his time at the entertainment giant may be coming to end sooner than…

[youngveinsworld]

young veins interviews

text-based interviews

2009 - Kerrang magazine

March 2010 - MTV at SXSW

April 2010 - The Examiner

April 2010 - Estrella Online

April 2010 - Jon for CityBeat

May 2010 - Jon for They Will Rock You

June 2010 - Alternative Press magazine

June 2010 - Orange County Register at Bonnaroo

June 2010 - SPIN magazine

June 2010 - Jon for Popmatters

June 2010 - Ryan for Teen Vogue

July 2010 - Los Angeles Times

July 2010 - Punktastic

May 2011 - Jon for Heave Media

video interviews

March 2010 - MTV at SXSW

June 2010 - SPIN at Bonnaroo Festival

June 2010 - Wolfgang's Vault

June 2010 - Ryan and Jon for LXTV

June 2010 - Ryan and Jon for Shockhound

July 2010 - Ryan and Jon for B-Sides on MYX

September 2010 - Ryan for MTV

audio interviews

July 2009 - Ryan for MTV on leaving Panic

June 2010 - Ryan and Jon for Piratepods

October 2010 - Ryan on DJ Rossstar's radio show

last.fm summer sessions with song commentary

Young Veins (Die Tonight)

Everyone But You

Maybe I Will, Maybe I Won't

Take a Vacation!

[rock-and-roll-hell]

March 26, 1983

Creatures Of The Night Tour ⚡️

Irvine Meadows Amphitheater - Laguna Hills, California,

📸 Neal Zlozower

-First show with Mötley Crüe opening.

“During Saturday’s nights stop at Irvine Meadows of KIϟϟ’ 10th Anniversary Tour, it became apparent that history has come full circle. KIϟϟ was upstaged by it’s opening act, Mötley Crüe, an outrageous band that mixes the transsexual posing of the New York Dolls with a suggestion of Satanism and plenty of thundering heavy metal riffs. Although the energy and excitement Saturday night was with the rising stars, Mötley Crüe, KIϟϟ still proved it is a master of rock n roll extravaganza. Theater and entertainment have always been KIϟϟ’ strong suit. Unlike most rock acts in which the novelty effects wear off in the first five minutes, KIϟϟ managed to keep the thrills coming for the duration of the show. KIϟϟ’ 95 minute set featured a barrage of fog, smoke bombs, fireworks, flashing lights, cannon shots, and fire pots” (Santa Ana Orange County Register 03/28/83).

From another local review: "It's doubtful that anyone over the age of 10 has ever really cared about KISS's cartoonish, essentially juvenile approach to rock. Still, the group's performance Saturday at Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre (to open the facility's 1983 season) showed there's nobody who deals with gee-whiz pop any better than KISS. Putting on one of the most elaborate state productions since the days when money was no object in the music business, KISS had the entire stage decorated as an armored tank and turret. This left the audience (gulp) looking down the barrel of the tank's cannon. Throughout the 90-minute performance, the band employed a slew of special effects including (wow) fireworks, explosions and a quartet of industrial-size flame throwers... While KISS' jackhammer brand of heavy metal offers little of lasting value, the group delivers it with some degree of imagination, and believe it or not, a lack of pretentiousness. For all the outlandish costumes and exaggerated behavior, this is a group that doesn't take itself too seriously" (Los Angeles Times, 3/28/83)

[morbidology]

On Christmas Day of 1951, it was the 25th wedding anniversary of Harry and Harriette Moore from Mims, Florida. The couple were pioneer activists and lead re of the early civil rights movement in the United States. Unbeknownst to them, later on that night, they would become the first martyrs of the movement.

In 1934, Harry founded the Brevard County, Florida, National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) chapter. NAACP worked towards achieving equal pay for equal work for teachers of any race and fought to have lunching prosecuted and attempted to register voters of colour in the region. Harry saw some success during the nascent civil rights movement; voters of colour doubled in Florida during the last half of the 1940s and lawsuits started to be filed to challenge the policy of paying teacher of colour less than their white counterparts.

Due to their civil rights activity, both Harry and Harriette were fired from the school where they both worked. Orange County was a hotbed of racism and violence during the 1940s and early 1950s; the Orange County Ku Klux Klan was gaining popularity and turning more violent by the day.

On that fateful Christmas afternoon, Harry and Harriette had celebrated their anniversary with Harry’s mother and their 24-year-old daughter. They spent the evening eating cake and chatting. At around 10:15PM, the couple climbed into bed and switched off the light. Moments later, there was an almighty explosion; somebody had planted 3 pounds of dynamite under the bedroom floor of the couple.

The force of the dynamite tore open the floor and slammed the mattress to the ceiling before crashing back down. The bedroom was completely obliterated, the front porch had been shredded and the frame of the house destroyed.Harry died on the way to Stanford hospital in the back of a relative’s Buick; Stanford hospital was the closest hospital that would treat people of colour. Harriette died nine days later due to massive internal injuries; she lived long enough to see her husband be buried.

When police arrived at the scene, a sniffer dog picked up a scent which led to nearby Dixie Highway before abruptly stopping. Sure enough Sheriff H.T. Williams found footprints alongside the scent but since he walked through them, the plaster imprint made was useless. Officially, the murders remain unsolved but according to FBI documents, the Orange County Ku Klux Klan are responsible.

Four suspects were known high ranking members of the Ku Klux Klan: Earl J. Brooklyn, Tillman H. Belvin, Joseph Cox and Edward L. Spivey. Despite the evidence against them, no arrests were ever made and all four main suspects are now deceased.

[mollywog]

A follow up to Misunderstandings on Ao3 (or Tumblr)

“I’ve just come from the newly inhabited vicarage,” Mr. Odair says soon after his arrival.

Katniss is seated across the parlor, needlework forgotten at the mention of the new clergyman. She knows very little about him, not even his name, but Mr Odair’s friend has still been of particular interest to her ever since she’d heard of his heartbreak.

“I invited him to tea on Saturday and I hope you will join us. I am eager for you to meet Mr. Mellark, though I’m certain you will approve. No one that knows him can do otherwise.”

Katniss hardly registers Aunt Mag’s response. Surely her heart must have stopped at the sound of the name that has plagued her thoughts these past months. She forces herself to breathe. Perhaps she’d misheard Mr. Odair or perhaps the name is more common than she thinks. There may be dozens of Mr Mellark, and this one may be of no relation to those of Bakersfield Park.

The conversation moves on, but Katniss’s mind cannot. She must know. It is Wednesday today; she won’t survive the suspense if she must wait to know the truth.

Eventually Aunt Mags requests fresh air. Katniss lingers in the hall as her cousin and aunt ready. “If you will not think me impolite, may I inquire after the Vicar’s Christian name? I believe my father knows of a family by that name,” she asks Mr. Odair.

“Of course! Mr. Peeta Mellark, of the Bakersfield Park Mellarks, though they may not claim him at present. His mother was not pleased with his choice of career, she had meant for him to marry an heiress and take up a smart profession. He’s all but disinherited as I understand it.”

Her heart does a small flip and she sways on her feet, before begging off to lie down.

She scarcely knows how she makes it from the foyer to her room, but once she’s there she’s too agitated to sit. Pacing, she attempts to recount every word of Mr Odair’s tale; If her Peeta Mellark is really the man from his story, then surely she must be the woman.

She’s not so vain, but she cannot deny that her voice is admired wherever she goes. She recalls the look of genuine awe on Peeta’s face as she’d sung, memories she still holds dear. If there had been another woman in the county he admired, she cannot bring her to mind, for as long as he’s held her silent interest, she’s never known him to show preference to another…

But what of his mother’s whispered triumph?

This seems a harder task to reconcile, but when she looks in her heart, she can see the truth clearly now. Of the two, who has she known to be cruel? Surely not the kind boy she’d first notice sneaking food to the hungry children of the perish. It was true too that she had watched him deceive his mother in this undertaking, but though he may have a talent for duplicity, he was not callous or self serving. No, those were traits she’d observed in his mother.

Within an hour she is quite convinced of it all. Oh what a fool she’s been!

She spends the remainder of the week between agony and hope. He’ll not have known she was here when he accepted the appointment, she’s certain of it, but has her name chanced to come up since he’s arrived? Will he be anticipating her? And if so will it be with desire or dread.

On Saturday, Katniss dresses with particular care. Completing her preparations with a small length of trim she pulls from its spot, deep within the recesses of her drawer.

The walk to Fourlands feels the longest of her life, but it’s still far too soon that they’re ushered into the sitting room and then there he is.

Her breath catches at the sight of his smile, quickly slipping as his gaze lands on her. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes show the alarm as he attends to introductions.

Mr. Odair says her name and she extends her hand; The sleeve of her dress slips up to reveal a ribbon tied to her wrist and she watches as the soft orange color catches Mr. Mellark’s attention just as she’d planned.

Last year during their courtship, they had chanced to cross paths while out shopping with her mother and sister.

Surrounded by ribbons of every shade, she thought nothing of pointing out one that reminded her of the willow tree that greets her outside her window each morning when he’d asked her favorite color. He’d smiled so sweetly her heart had done a small flip before she could ask him his own. He had selected one the color of the sunset beyond the meadow and in a moment of boldness, she’d plucked up the orange ribbon and purchased a small length. Seeing her do so, Peeta had done the same with the green. They hadn’t exchanged their purchases, it would have been improper to do so, but it had felt like a small rebellion to tuck the orange trim into her pocket.

The ribbon was far too dear to simply trim a hat or glove. Instead she’d woven it in her hair, worn it on her ankle, or tucked it beneath her shift. Had it been a gift, she would have been forced to return it after their dissolved courtship, but as her own purchase she had hidden it away, taking it out to stroke the silky surface, despite her resolve to never look at it again.

Peeta’s eyes flit from her wrist to her face then back down again brow creased, but the moment is over too soon as tea arrives.

As they all sit to converse, Katniss drinks him in: If the blue eyes, that seem to often find her look a little dimmer, it does nothing to diminish his beauty. It leaves her with an ache in her heart and a longing to speak to him, but as they trail behind the acknowledged lovers in the gardens after tea, she can’t find the courage to begin.

Just as she’s imagining the silence may kill her, Mr. Mellark speaks, “Ms Everdeen, please let me assure you I was unaware of your being here when I applied to the living. I had no intention of forcing my presence upon you after our parting. Whatever ill you think of me, please acquit me of that.”

“Mr Mellark, I assure you, I imagined no such thing.” She forces herself to hold his gaze, “I was very pleased to discover your appointment here.”

“I am glad of it, though I am surprised after our last conversation.”

She looks away, “I must ask your forgiveness for my brusqueness at our parting. I had heard a vicious rumor of your motives towards me… I am ashamed to say I believed it. I have since reconciled myself to the truth and find only myself at fault.”

They are quickly approaching Mr. Odair and Annie who have paused on the path. Her fingers find the ribbon at her wrist involuntarily and his eyes linger on the silky thread. She lowers her voice at the last that she may speak her heart before they rejoin the others, “I bitterly regret my rash judgment, for although my faith may have wavered, my affections never could.”

He has no chance to respond as her cousin steps forward to take her arm and they move back towards the house. She scarcely knows whether to be disappointed or grateful at Annie’s intervention.

It isn’t until they’ve reached the house that she has the courage to meet his eyes. He holds her stare as he pulls his watch from his pocket; a flash of green catches her attention. A ribbon, her ribbon; secured to the end of his watch chain. His eyes flit down to the time then over to her before addressing the party with his farewells. But before he leaves, he approaches her, dropping his voice to a no more than a whisper, “May I call upon you at your aunt’s, Ms Everdeen?”

“I’ll allow it,” she says and it feels as though Spring has finally returned.

[punkunited]

Dexter Holland is the singer and guitarist for the punk rock band The Offspring. He also holds a PhD in Molecular Biology. Apart from being a musician, he owns a restaurant in California and has his own brand of hot sauce called Gringo Bandito, he also obtained his accreditation as a licensed Airline Transport Pilot and also as a Flight Instructor.

-- Orange County Register

📷 Gie Knaeps

[neoyorzapoteca]

The translator is almost certainly thinking about the author a lot more than the author’s thinking about the translator, and that imbalance is kind of creepy. Translators sometimes talk about channeling their authors or inhabiting the authors’ minds. I find that I do become a little bit obsessed with my writers as I’m working on them, because their world kind of takes over my world. It’s just sort of funny to step back and think, They probably haven’t thought of me once.

Jennifer Croft is an award-winning translator. In her debut novel, an author goes missing. – Orange County Register

[motherstone]

Kazu Kibuishi nearly died while making ‘Amulet.’ Two decades later, he’s completed it. – Orange County Register (ocregister.com)

A passage from the article:

But in the decade since his recovery, Kibuishi says he still feels the effects.

“It changed my life, for sure. That’s part of the reason why I can’t write as fast as I used to. I can definitely draw just as quickly; that’s just motor skill. But writing is really what takes the most time,” he says, adding his memory has been affected – sometimes he’d finish a page only to realize he’d already drawn it before. “There are certain obstacles and hurdles I have to get over. I don’t want to use it as an excuse but … I have set a standard with my former self that is very hard for this brain to match.”

Kibuishi’s memory came up when I mention an earlier meeting we’d had. Years ago, not long after he’d recovered, I’d reached out to tell him how much my family enjoyed his books and Kibuishi had invited us to visit his Bolt City Productions studio in Alhambra. While a memorable event for us, Kibuishi says he can’t remember much from that period.

“That time in my life, I just have to accept that I was a bit of an amnesiac. There’s like a crater in my memory,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from it, but I manage well, I think, despite all of that.”

That explains why Amulet turned out the way it did. I deeply regret the harsher points of my criticisms, but my points about flaws of the series still stand.

On one thing, I presumed that his injury may have played a factor, something that severe especially in the brain is not something you would 100% recover from. On the other hand, I thought it is pretty wrong to speculate or assume further about Kazu’s medical history because that’s ultimately his business to divulge or not.

So I assumed it was arrogance. I assumed that since he’s secured a good number of loyal readers, he’s just putting whatever because a.) he’s done with Amulet, and b.) people would read his books either way, so why bother with quality? Which is not only extremely bad faith of me, but also deeply insulting to Kazu as an artist. To which I am regretful, and I do apologize. He really just can’t remember. The Amulet we started with isn’t the Amulet we ended with.

That also explains his process. He’s made around 1000 draft pages for book 9, then pick and discard what he wanted to keep and honestly, I’m pretty sure someone with a direction for their story wouldn’t have such ramblings that would take 1000 pages (I myself who also draws a lot wouldn’t make that high of a number), the process overall was just yonkers. But for someone with a spotty memory… That’s probably the best method he could come up with.

But in all honesty, reading this article gave me an overwhelming sense of peace. I could live with Kazu’s reasons if it was because he’s done with Amulet, or if it was because of executive meddling, or if it was for medical reasons. Mostly because these are all problems that can be fixed. A better project, a better employer, a better work schedule, better accommodations. I still think the writing is awful and declined badly, but I’m more relieved that it isn’t because Kazu no longer cares or values his work. Ultimately, he genuinely did the best he could.

[lovesgoneinsane]

Masterpost of all The Young Veins interviews I've found

orange county register

name origins

teen vogue

estrella online

examiner

alternative press

they will rock you

[thesnicketfile]

Daniel Handler (The Orange County Register, May 4, 2022)

[typhlonectes]

i saw your post about native north american plants for birds in the winter. i’m from southern california so scrubland/chaparral. my neighborhood isn’t very friendly towards small ground animals but a two minute walk takes you to an undeveloped canyon. i’m aware most birds migrate further south for the winter but i’d like to know if you have any recommendations for plants and small trees that would be beneficial for them. my neighborhood does have some trees in communal spaces and some of those trees do have seedpods but i’d always like to help. i’ve seen neighbors who have bird feeders but do not currently have the resources to maintain one of them. do you have any recommendations for native flora? thank you very much for your time

Question about bird friendly native plants for Southern California...

For reference here's the original post:

And here are some resources for helping out wildlife in your own space with California Native Plants:

Pollinator Plants for California: 17-045_02_XercesSoc_Pollinator-Plants_California_web-3page.pdf

A list from Better Homes & Gardens: 15 Top Native Plants of Southern California (bhg.com)

Resources from the California Native Plant Society: Getting Started - California Native Plant Society (cnps.org)

From an Orange County Register article:

"Bird-friendly plants include California coffeeberry, a shrub with dark, red berries this time of year; California wild grapes that yield small, edible clusters in the fall, and toyon, also known as Christmas berry or California holly, with bright, red berries that generally ripen by mid-December.

Tree of Life Nursery recommends other natives for songbirds including manzanita, fourwing saltbush, coyote brush, barberry, California lilac, buckwheat, brittlebush, chaparral honeysuckle, laurel sumac, hollyleaf cherry, oak trees, lemonade berry, currants, gooseberries, wild rose, wild blackberry, and elderberry..."

Good luck!

[internetho]

Park Walk (more like Chase)

This was supposed to be finished last YEAR. I got stuck in Mexico so I had the minimum amount of braincells to finish this at 2 in the morning. Posted it to Ao3 too

Reader gets chased through the park by Flock that’s all lol

Fic under the line + Art (I finally updated it please look at it)

‘That’s a weird looking bird’ - thought as they stood 10 feet from the tree said bird was lounging in.

This is the second time they’ve come across one of those things and this time there was no door to hide behind. This time it was purple instead of orange from what they could see under the dim lights of the park lamps. It looked pretty goopy which is kind of goofy for a bird (wonder what that feels like, would be terrifying if it could fly), it also has SYTHES FOR ARMS????

Luckily, it didn’t seem to notice - yet so they began to back away from it slowly.

The thing is though…

It’s autumn, and in autumn what falls from trees?

Leaves

Extremely crunchy leaves

All coherent Thoughts had left -‘s head as soon as they saw the bird and not a single new one had come into it in the five minutes they had been standing there, monster watching.

So like an absolute idiot, (and without looking back to check) - stepped backwards directly off the path and onto a pile of leaves.

• C R O N C H •

‘Ah shit’

The bird snapped it’s head to look at them and (to -‘s horror) began to Screech. They covered their ears but could still hear faint ringing as they turned and began to sprint back down the path.

“It is official this county is FUCKING CURSED” - half shouted to themself- head raised to the sky as they felt a thump on the ground and several smaller vibrations on the ground behind them.

‘And the Bird is giving chase…Awesome’

- just wanted to go outside for once but here they were getting chased down by Big Bird’s smaller and more violent cousin. Their first time out in ages was going great. They’d rather have stayed inside doing nothing if they knew going out would’ve ended this way.

During their little monkey brain moment the path had progressively gotten more and more rocky. While this would normally slow anything like a bike down, this wasn’t a bike. This was a mass of slime that began gaining purchase as the stones of the path got larger and more cobbly.

‘Think THINK THINK IT LOOKS LIKE A BIRD HOW DO YOU PACIFY A BIRD’

‘The chicken video’

‘THE CHICKEN VIDEO’

How could they forget that one chicken video with a guy and a finger and- SOMETHIGN ELSE BUT THATS NOT IMPORTANT A DEMON is CHASING YOU

‘There’

An opening between two trees big enough for one person to squeeze through, and half a monster.

Perfect

Taking as deep of a breath as possible while one is running for their life, - put a burst of speed and miraculously didn’t trip or get stuck in the space between the two trees as the bird gave chase.

The impact from this giant goop ball managed the shake the trees quite a bit but they held fast.

Big bird was now (read: for the time being) trapped and squawking loudly again, unable to register the small space it would now have to have to back out of somehow. It also began flapping(?) it’s goopy appendages, spraying some liquid onto -‘s arms as they were still backing away.

Not even giving the thought to put their fingers anywhere NEAR this giant flailing bird thing, - -huffing and puffing due the the amount of running they just did- set about finding the nearest, decently sized stick and began waving it slowly in front of the thing’s face.

Focusing on the new thing in front of it, the bird stared as - guided its gaze towards the ground where upon reaching it, began to draw a line in between its eyes. It was like a little bubble formed around the two, no noise coming in or out, not even normal background park noises one would expect.

Just

Silence

Once the bird was thoroughly not present in this plain, feeling a bit dizzy; - stood up from their crouched position with some difficulty. When did their breath get so short? Why do their arms sting so much??

‘Oh Those are clouds. I’m on my back everything is swirling arou-’

They passed out

——

“Flooockkkk?”

“Pspspspspsps”

“FLOOOCKKKK???”

It’d been 10 minutes since Simon had come back and as soon as he saw the empty tree that was not so empty when he last saw it he’d been looking all around the area for his missing partner.

Thankfully nobody came around these parts of the park at this hour or he wouldn’t have be able to look for them as freely. Now walking down the path to a more forested area, Simon called out again.

“Flockkkk?!!!”

A faint trill answered from just a few feet off of the path.

‘Oh thank Six’

Rushing over, Simon was greeted with the sight of his partner and the reason he hadn’t found them earlier was now clear.

The Flock was stuck in between two tree trunks with a line drawn in the dirt. Said line led from the trip of their beak to a stick which led to a-

‘Ah shiiiiit’

A very much passed out human laying sprawled on the ground barely a few feet from the pair of veldigun.

Panic back in full force, Simon rushed over to his partner and began checking them over for signs of change.

Legs? No. Change in behavior? No, they are weirdly calm though.

Okay then, looks like the human would be relatively fine until the morning.

Walking behind the tree The Flock was still stuck in, he began making beckoning noises again.

Which was mainly just- “Pspspspspspsss” but that was the one that worked the most. That seemed to do the trick, the purple blob’s head shot up and it began slowly backing out of the space with little difficulty -now that it knows where to go-chirping and squawking all the while.

With that hiccup dealt with, Simon begins the task of getting the still passed out human where other humans can find them(said task just consisted of Simon half dragging - half carrying the human to the path while trying his very best not to touch any exposed skin as to not cause them any unnecessary damage). The Flock remains calm throughout this little process and with Simon around, there was a lot less chance of them attacking the human so it goes relatively quickly.

Now that the human is as safe as can be, Simon takes the Flock into his arms and begins the trek back to their home before the sun rises.

Old ver.

New ver.

[morbidology]

On the 25th wedding anniversary of Harry and Harriette Moore, celebrated on Christmas Day 1951 in Mims, Florida, the couple, prominent civil rights activists, unknowingly became the first martyrs of the early civil rights movement in the United States.

In 1934, Harry established the Brevard County, Florida, chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). The NAACP, under Harry's leadership, advocated for equal pay for teachers of all races, challenged segregation in lunchrooms, and worked towards registering voters of color in the region.

Despite facing opposition, they achieved some success during the burgeoning civil rights movement, witnessing an increase in voters of color in Florida during the late 1940s. However, their activism cost them their jobs at the school where they both worked. The 1940s and early 1950s saw rising racism and violence in Orange County, with the Ku Klux Klan gaining influence and becoming increasingly aggressive.

On that Christmas evening, Harry and Harriette celebrated their anniversary with family. Around 10:15 PM, after a joyful day, they retired to bed. Moments later, an explosive blast rocked their home, as 3 pounds of dynamite had been planted under their bedroom floor. The force of the explosion destroyed the bedroom, shredded the front porch, and left the house's frame in ruins. Harry succumbed to injuries on the way to Stanford hospital in a relative's Buick, the nearest hospital that treated people of color. Nine days later, Harriette passed away due to severe internal injuries, witnessing her husband's burial before her death.

When the police arrived, a sniffer dog led them to Dixie Highway, abruptly stopping without yielding further clues. Sheriff H.T. Williams found footprints at the scene, but they were compromised as he walked through them. Officially unsolved, FBI documents suggest the Orange County Ku Klux Klan's involvement. Four high-ranking Klan members—Earl J. Brooklyn, Tillman H. Belvin, Joseph Cox, and Edward L. Spivey—were identified as suspects. Despite evidence against them, no arrests were made, and all four suspects have since passed away.

[shefanispeculator]

Celebrating OC’s inaugural Hall of Fame class

Story by Destiny Torres, The Orange County Register • 3h

efore Gwen Stefani entertained the world, she was just a girl in an Anaheim ska band; before Greg Louganis started collecting gold medals, he was diving into the Santa Ana College pool; and before Amanda Beard broke a world record in the Olympics she spent long days in an Irvine pool.

For the achievements these three and seven other Orange County greats went on to make, they were inducted Friday as the inaugural class of the OC Hall of Fame in a ceremony hosted by the OC Board of Supervisors. Friends and family gathered with county leaders for the celebrations as they accepted their plaques and posed for pictures, including country star Blake Shelton, Stefani’s husband.

“I grew up on a cul de sac in westside Anaheim, across the street from a strawberry field and Tom’s Farm’s market. My entire world was between Euclid Street and Harvard Boulevard,” Stefani said in her acceptance speech before the audience gathered in a hearing room usually used for government meetings.

“Orange County is where my dreams were born and the foundation that shaped my life. Anaheim, California is my roots,” she said. “It’s my culture, and I’ve never left Anaheim behind. It’s always been with me. I’ve been able to share it with the world through my songs, through my style, and I’ve always had such pride and gratitude from where I’ve come from.”