Connection To Rockhaven

This story is about two independent-minded women in my family – my maternal grandmother Martha Adele and my great-aunt Margaret, her sister-in-law. During WWII when their husbands went off to war both ladies supported the effort at home. Martha worked locally at a munitions plant in a “Rosie the Riveter” type position then was promoted to assignments that required a higher level of security clearance that she did not talk about. Margaret was a hostess on passenger trains assisting travelers, many of whom were enlisted men headed to military bases. She worked out of Los Angeles but traversed the country, mostly across the southern states.

My mom, Patricia, told me many times the story about when she was a child visiting her grandparents in Indiana in 1945. After victory was declared by Allied Forces, Aunt Margaret was tasked with getting my mom back home to Los Angeles. There was a huge surge of soldiers returning home from the war and trains were full. The plan was that 9-year-old Pat would ride with strangers by car to New Orleans where Margaret would meet her then find her a spot on a train headed home. From there, Margaret paid a soldier to look after Pat while she traveled alone. That arrangement would be considered callous by today’s standards but that was a different time. Mom remembered it fondly saying the man was very kind.

My earliest recollection of Aunt Margaret was during the 1960s when I was growing up. She would come to visit my childhood home in Sunland or I would see her at my grandmother’s house in North Hollywood. She always wore a nice dress with heels and dark red lipstick. She had a small dog with a smashed face named Titi that she would dote over and call its name continually: “Titi, Titi, Titi!” I came to think of Aunt Margaret as eccentric. When my relatives mentioned her name, they almost always rolled their eyes.

When I lived in Sunland, I never knew about the sanitarium that lay hiding behind the iron gates that spelled out Rockhaven. I don’t remember ever seeing it on our way to Montrose or Glendale. It wasn’t until much later when I moved to La Crescenta with my own family that I heard about its history and got involved with the organization, Friends of Rockhaven. I toured the closed facility and worked one of their cleaning days, sweeping and washing windows. When I told my mom about my impressions, I asked her, “Do you know about Rockhaven?”

Her response was surprising, “Oh yeah. I know all about Rockhaven.” There’s always a story in my family.

Apparently at some point, perhaps during the 1950s, Aunt Margaret had heard about a place that ladies could go to get some “rest and relaxation.” It was called Rockhaven and it was popular with those in the know in Hollywood. Margaret felt weary and thought that sounded pretty good. So she checked herself in. Mom didn’t say how long she was there but, during Margaret’s stay, my grandmother went to visit her. Martha said the drive took a very long time to get there describing the trip as “to hell and gone” because it was so remote. When she arrived, she walked up to the entrance and rang the bell. Martha’s expectation as to what Rockhaven was or wasn’t clearly differed from Margaret’s. When the door was opened by a large woman wearing all white, Martha leaned in close and stated her business.

“I am here to see a patient of yours,” Martha said. “I want you to look at my face. I want you to remember this face. Because I have every intension of leaving this place when I am done visiting.” My grandmother meant it, too.

This piece of family lore is priceless and, frankly, hilarious to me. I can picture them all so clearly. It also illustrates that sometimes we end up where life intended. From the moment I arrived at Rockhaven that first day for the tour, I felt embraced by those who came before me. I believe that many of the ladies of Rockhaven still remain there protecting it, keeping it safe from the wrecking ball.