Grant Loucks stocks more than ordinary equipment at his camera rental house in Hollywood.

Jacques Cousteau used one underwater. Astronaut Alan Shepard took one into space. Another one, camouflaged as a machine gun, recorded combat action in WWII. An original one, dating back to 1885, appears as an unassuming brown box. So describes the various motion picture devices delightfully crowding Grant Loucks’ office in Hollywood, the headquarters of Alan Gordon Enterprises, a longtime movie camera rental facility, where Loucks is owner and president. ‘I’ve collected all kinds of things, more things than one should really collect,’ Loucks says with a playful grin. Rare posters and old movie slates, early projectors, 3-D glasses, even the miniature ship models used in the World War II classic ‘Tora! Tora! Tora!’ share space among the bounty of vintage cameras, the core of the collection. The mini-museum is all a side note to the regular business of supplying modern camera equipment to the movie industry and student filmmakers alike. Loucks estimates owning nearly 1,000 objects of movie and camera memorabilia. Many of these items are stored in a warehouse. Other pieces enliven his home in Pacific Palisades, where they commingle with Mexican folk art, the passion of his wife, Judith Bronowski. His masterpiece’one of the Technicolor ‘three strip’ cameras used to photograph ‘Gone with the Wind’ (1939)’is on view for all to see at the Hollywood Heritage Museum. ‘What many people don’t realize is how Technicolor films were made with a special camera that recorded three black-and-white images simultaneously,’ says Loucks, whose lifelong fascination with photography includes work both as a cinematographer and technician. ‘With the use of a secret method, those images, exposed through filters, became the Technicolor print,’ he says. Technicolor film’revered for its richness of color–went the way of the dinosaurs beginning in the 1950s when more economical film stock was developed. Touring the collection becomes a journey through the history of cinema, with Loucks presiding as an engaging and knowledgeable guide. Two Academy Awards, both for technical achievement, bolster his expert credentials. He thumbs through a flip book to launch a discussion about the persistence of vision, the ability of the eye to retain an image for a fraction of a second as the next image appears, thus creating the illusion of motion. Although the world had known about the persistence of vision for hundreds of years, it wasn’t until the invention of photography in the early 19th century and later cinematography, around 1885, that the phenomenon was fully exploited. George Eastman led the way for the transition from optical toy to projected motion pictures with his development of thin-based roll film, an invention Thomas Edison capitalized on to produce the first movie camera. Of course, the early cameras relied on cranks to advance the film, a system that demanded the steady hand of an operator. ‘A good cameraman was able to crank at two revolutions per second, or 16 frames per second. Consistency was the key so the image wouldn’t flicker on the screen,’ Loucks explains. After giving the crank several loud turns, he adds: ‘That’s the sound young filmmakers using digital cameras will never hear.’ Many of the early cameras also required looking down into a viewfinder. The later designs called for picking the camera up and looking directly into the viewfinder. This proved disastrous in World War II, when a combat camera, shaped like a machine gun, looked all too much like the real thing. ‘When a cameraman came of out of the fox hole to take pictures, he looked like he was shooting a gun, so his own troops were shooting at him. They threw these cameras out as fast as they could,’ Loucks says while holding one of the remaining examples. Much more successful in WWII were the famous gun cameras designed to attach to a machine gun. Positioned in fighter airplanes, these on-board devices captured all the famous footage of enemies being shot down. Today, the rugged camera, built into the side of helmets, still takes one-of-a-kind point of view shots from cars, motorcycles and snowmobiles. Loucks is an old-fashioned company man. He started out at Alan Gordon Enterprises sweeping floors in the 1950s. Using savvy marketing and technical skills, he steadily climbed the ladder to become president and co-owner of the company in 1974 (Alan Gordon, the founder, died in 1969). He left in 1954 to serve a stint in the Korean War, training in the Army as a combat cameraman. He never saw action, but spent two years in Alaska conducting cold weather camera testing in subzero conditions. ‘I’m going to stop working long before the equipment,’ he remembers thinking. Born in Seattle, Loucks moved to Los Angeles at 11. A love of photography was present from day one. ‘I remember being 12 and sitting on a fire hydrant in front of my house waiting for something to happen. On rainy days, cars might be in accidents. I’d sell these pictures to the Citizen News in Hollywood after processing them in my own little dark room.’ He graduated from Hollywood High School (Carol Burnett was a classmate) and later studied business and cinematography at USC and photo engineering at UCLA. In 1989, Loucks received the first of two Academy Awards for slow motion effects using the Image 300 camera (think the original ‘Die Hard’ when the villain falls from the high-rise window). The second Oscar, in 1996, was awarded for the Mark V Director’s Viewfinder, a popular, innovative tool used by directors to compose and visualize their shots. When it comes to collecting, Loucks is less precision-oriented, preferring to come across things casually, though he admits to occasionally succumbing to ‘the thrill of the hunt.’ The hunt began with an early Eastman Kodak movie camera find at a garage sale in the 1950s. It continues today at places like the Rose Bowl swap meet and Portobello Road Market in London, where he pounced on what has become one of his most prized objects, a 1885 ‘Darling’ camera distinguished by its simplicity of style: a plain brown box. ‘I like my objects,’ Loucks says. ‘ I like to touch them and play with them and talk about them to others. Most everyone who comes and sees the collection leaves with a smile.’

As Valentine’s Day approaches once again, we”the good citizens of the Pacific Palisades”should consider ourselves a fortunate lot. While we Palisadians may not have a direct phone line to Cupid, we do have the next best thing. After all, who’s a better authority on the matters of the heart than our Honorary Mayor, the former captain of ‘The Love Boat’: Gavin MacLeod. Any avid boob tuber knows actor MacLeod from the classic ‘Mary Tyler Moore’ sitcom, on which he played Murray. Yet his most famous role is no doubt that of Captain Merrill Stubing. So the Palisadian-Post decided to check in on MacLeod and see exactly what the star of ‘The Love Boat’ will be doing on February 14. Surely, MacLeod must have some tips on making love spring eternal…or at least spring through the end of this weekend. Well, for romantic inspiration, look no farther than the personal story of Gavin and Patti MacLeod. ‘It’s a true love story,’ MacLeod tells the Post. ‘We got married in the ‘Mary Tyler Moore’ days [early ’70s]. Everything was great, we were doing theater all over the country.’ After ‘Mary’ had ended, MacLeod boarded another TV phenomenon, ‘The Love Boat,’ in the late ’70s. He was so busy that ‘my feet wasn’t touching the ground. The Captain was the leader, I had to do everything.’ The long hours took their toll on his marriage. In 1981, MacLeod chose career over love. Gavin divorced her. At first, it seemed like the right decision for MacLeod, who was ‘sowing some oats.’ He had the big house on the hill, he had the hot career. But bachelorhood quickly wore thin. Alcohol became a problem (although, for the record, MacLeod is loath to blame ‘Love Boat”s Isaac the Bartender for his over indulgence). Soon, that big house began to feel pretty empty. ‘I had everything but nothing,’ says MacLeod. Three years after leaving Patti, MacLeod worked his way back to his true love. ‘What happened to bring us back together was something that happened to my mom,’ MacLeod recalls. ‘She was 78, they found a cyst inside her brain. I made a deal with God: If you let my mother live, I’ll turn my life over to you. ‘ MacLeod’s mother not only survived, but lived to be 97. ‘Something told me to call Patti, whom I had not talked to in three years,’ says MacLeod. Gavin and Patti reunited in 1984, and remarried in 1985. The MacLeods have been solid ever since, enjoying life in the Highlands. ‘Living up here is like when I was working in New York and living in Connecticut,’ says the erstwhile Merrill Stubing, well’ merrily! The secret to a healthy, lasting marriage? ‘I don’t think there should be any secrets from each other when you’re married,’ offers MacLeod. ‘Trust is the most important thing. Having the same sense of humor. That can get you through so many rocky moments.’ So back to our original question: how will Gavin and Patti celebrate Valentine’s Day 2008? ‘We’re going to start the day the way we always do,’ says MacLeod, ‘with Bible study. I will see Marilyn Crawford in the Chamber of Commerce and give her a box of candy. ‘Two of our grandkids are coming in from Hawaii. Patti and I will have a big dinner at home. We’re going to watch one of our favorite movies, ‘An Affair to Remember,’ with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.’ Speaking of Grant, MacLeod has a fitting anecdote for you romantics out there. We all do crazy things in the name of love, and MacLeod is no more sane than the rest of us. He recalls one situation that surely tested his marriage. MacLeod had played in the 1958 naval comedy ‘Operation Petticoat,’ opposite Grant, and 25 years later, the MacLeods attended a fundraiser in the early 1980s when in walked Grant and wife Barbara Harris. All heads turned. And Patti insisted that Gavin introduce her to Grant. Reluctantly, MacLeod agreed. ‘I was so nervous,’ recalls MacLeod on approaching the icon. ‘My heart was going out of my chest. I interrupted him, ‘Excuse me, Mr. Grant.’ He said, ‘Gavin, Gavin, Gavin! I’m so proud of you.” What started out as torture turned into a wonderful reconnection. They enjoyed a conversation that was, in hindsight, poignant. ‘Five days later,’ MacLeod explains, ‘[Grant] was in Davenport, Iowa, doing his one-man show. He went back into the green room. He had a heart attack and died.’ MacLeod is thankful that he Grant-ed his wife’s wish. ‘If you risk something for somebody else to make them happy,’ says MacLeod, ‘sometimes it makes you happy, and I’ll never forget that moment as long as I live.’ You can experience more ‘Love’ from Capt. Stubing when the first season DVD of ‘The Love Boat’ comes out on Tuesday, March 4.

Iconic Author Greets Seven Arrow Students at Public Library

It’s the perfect Valentine’s Day message to each and every Palisadian: Ray Bradbury wants you to fall in love. That was the premise of a lecture delivered by the legendary science-fiction author to a packed room of 100 Seven Arrows Elementary School students and their parents at Pacific Palisades Branch Library on February 7, in an event sponsored by Seven Arrows and the library. Distinguished with his alabaster hair, his thick-frame glasses, and his recently granted French Order of Arts and Letters medal, the wheelchair-bound Bradbury, 87–whose literary classics include ‘The Martian Chronicles,’ ‘The Illustrated Man,’ ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes,’ and ‘Fahrenheit 451’ (the latter years ago adapted by France’s premier cinematic auteur Fran’ois Truffaut)–made quite a distinguished impression on his young audience. With novels, short stories, screenplays, teleplays, plays (45, by Bradbury’s count), and comic books on his lengthy resume, the forward-thinking Bradbury is a living, breathing author in the 20th-century sense of the term. After Seven Arrows parent John Schimmel paid moving homage to his hero by holding up his tattered, well-worn childhood copy of ‘Chronicles,’ Bradbury launched into a rollicking, impassioned speech in which he urged the youngest Palisadians in the room to fall in love with life, just as he had. Bradbury vividly illustrated how he built a literary career out of his youthful passions. ‘I’m madly in love with a lot of things,’ exclaimed a boisterous Bradbury, who recounted with flair how his love for cinema (Lon Chaney movies, the dinosaur-laden flicks ‘The Lost World’ and ‘King Kong’), comic strips (‘Buck Rogers,’ ‘Prince Valiant,’ ‘Tarzan’), and architecture (a visit to the 1933 Chicago’s World Fair) later landed him professional gigs; an article he wrote on the latter led Bradbury to become a creative consultant in the development of the 1964 New York World’s Fair, Disney World’s Epcot Center, San Diego’s Horton Plaza, Santa Monica Mall, Century City, and the Hollywood and Highland complex, which, at his suggestion, conceptually hinges around D. W. Griffith’s 1916 silent masterpiece ‘Intolerance.’ Before a rapt crowd of schoolchildren, Bradbury recounted how, at age 12, he wrote a sequel to ‘A Princess of Mars’ and ‘The Gods of Mars,’ genre novels written by Tarzan’s creator, and how, as an adult, his affection for Edgar Rice Burroughs’ red planet pulp novels manifested itself into one of his signature books, ‘The Martian Chronicles.’ What he writes, Bradbury insisted, ‘ is not science fiction, it’s fantasy. I learned that from Jules Verne, I learned that from Edgar Rice Burroughs.’ Bradbury shared how he and his wife had heard a lighthouse fog horn while strolling through Venice; how that eerie sound inspired him to write, at 31, the short story ‘The Fog Horn’ (eventually turned into the movie ‘The Beast From Twenty-Thousand Fathoms’), which roused legendary director John Huston to proclaim, ‘My God! That’s Herman Melville’s bastard son!’ and hand a 33-year-old Bradbury his first Hollywood screenplay assignment”the screen adaptation of ‘Moby Dick.’ The ‘Dandelion Wine’ author recalled how his Burroughs tribute ‘Chronicles’ caught the attention of one of his heroes, ‘Brave New World’ author Aldous Huxley, who blurted to Bradbury, ‘Do you know what you’ve done? You’re a poet! You’re a poet!’ An enthusiast of the films of Federico Fellini, Bradbury once wrote an article that Fellini had dubbed the best analysis ever written about his films. With the money he had made from writing ‘Moby Dick,’ Bradbury flew to Rome, where he spent a week hanging out with Italy’s greatest filmmaker and Fellini composer Nino Rota. By sojourn’s end, Fellini embraced Bradbury, exclaiming, ‘My twin! My twin!’ Nearly half a century ago, Bradbury wrote some of the creepiest episodes of ‘The Twilight Zone’ (‘I Sing The Body Electric’) and ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ (‘Special Delivery’) that continue to haunt this Palisadian-Post writer. Equally eerie, Bradbury revealed that he can actually remember his birth, his circumcision, and nursing at his mother’s breast. Clearly, this is a man in love with existence, and Bradbury transmitted this to his young audience that he is still very much in love with life, discouraging everyone from seeing any of 2008’s Best Picture nominees, which he had seen and declared anti-life. ‘To hell with them,’ shouted the animated author. ‘Stay away from the movies!’ Peppered with more than a few ‘hells’ and ‘goddamns,’ Bradbury’s speech was just salty enough to hold the attention of today’s A.D.D.-afflicted kids and keep them in stitches; but came short of the brusque reception he received as a youth from cantankerous comedian W. C. Fields, who replied, upon reluctantly fulfilling the future writer’s autograph request, ‘There you are, you little sonuvabitch!’ But seriously, folks, it was refreshing to witness the octogenarian connect with the children in a direct way that did not pander to them. In between all the laughs, Bradbury doled out some sage advice. ‘Fall in love with life,’ the writer said, lavishing praise on the Palisades library. ‘Colleges and universities do not educate you; libraries do. Teachers inspire you, but the libraries fulfill you.’ This guest lecture program will next welcome ‘The House of the Spirits’ author Isabelle Allende in March.