A Feast of New Traditions for Holiday

By Fred Alvarez and Mitchell Landsberg

Nov. 29, 2002 12 AM PT

Times Staff Writers

Over the hills and along the freeway to grandmother’s house we went. Well, some of us did. But look, this is Southern California. Conventions were made to be broken here.

For plenty of people, Thanksgiving was another chance to exercise the freedom to do whatever the heck they wanted.

On a sun-splashed beach between Ventura and Santa Barbara, holiday revelers traded in the usual turkey-day celebrations for the white sand and surf of an enviable California Thanksgiving.

On the Sunset Strip in Hollywood, hundreds of people -- some lonely, some down on their luck, some just looking for a change of pace -- packed into a comedy club for a free meal and show.

And, yes, some people went to Disneyland.

First, the beach.

Along the Rincon Parkway in Ventura County, where the RVs and travel trailers line up more than 100 deep, Thanksgiving Day dawned with a strong whiff of sea salt and the heady aroma of smoked turkey roasting over a barbecue flame.

If there is any place that spurns the stay-at-home tradition, this windswept stretch of coastline off the Ventura Freeway is it.

Drawn by the crescendo of crashing waves and the majesty of diving dolphins, some families have made it a practice to roll into this spot year after year, convinced that Thanksgiving is a holiday best celebrated with sun on their faces and sand between their toes.

“You just can’t beat it; you couldn’t pick a better place,” said Becky Grove, who along with her husband, David, was celebrating her fifth Thanksgiving on the Rincon. “It’s a perfect California holiday.”

The Groves pulled their trailer from nearby Oak View to a motor home space near the head of a long line of RVs, joining three other families for the celebration.

They roasted a turkey over the slow but steady flame of a blue barbecue while a second couple, Brad and Kimber Wilkinson of Ojai, dunked theirs in a deep fryer, finishing in a fraction of the time.

“We all love to camp, we all love the beach, so why not spend Thanksgiving here?” Kimber Wilkinson said. “It beats the eat-’til-you’re-full, sit-on-the-couch, scratch-your-belly and watch-football-until- you-go-to-sleep thing.”

This is about as far from that world as you can get, a place where the adults all wear shorts and T-shirts and the youngsters go barefoot and sport bathing suits so they can splash among the waves.

It’s a place where the turkey starts getting carved even before it’s off the grill and where seagulls circle above, hoping to scoop up off-target morsels.

It’s also an increasingly popular place for Thanksgiving, a destination best reached days before the holiday, while the spaces are still up for grabs.

Don and Joyce Jurgich pulled in Monday, backing their 36-foot motor home into a roadside stall with a spectacular view of the Channel Islands, just off the Ventura County coastline.

“It’s not your traditional celebration, that’s for sure,” said 74-year-old Don Jurgich, who traveled from the couple’s home state of Washington to the Rincon for the second time in three years to spend the holiday.

Inside their RV, in a kitchen amazingly spacious for a life spent on the road, they prepared a 15-pound turkey with all the fixings, which for the Jurgiches include a martini before dinner and red wine with their meal.

“It’s laid back and relaxed,” Jurgich said taking in the beach scene. “It’s not for everybody, but it’s perfect for us.”

Humor on the Menu

The Laugh Factory in Hollywood was perfect for Charley Murphy, a disabled actor who was spending his third consecutive Thanksgiving in a place filled with familial warmth, steaming mountains of good food, killer comedy acts and an admission price he could afford: free.

“Thank you,” he said as he walked in the door and was handed a paper plate and utensils by club owner Jamie Masada.

“No, thank you for coming to spend the holidays with us,” said Masada, who has been giving away holiday meals with entertainment since 1979. Masada, who said he “enjoys this more than anything,” beamed at Murphy, 61, who said he has been out of work since being hit by a car in 1982.

“Your smile,” said Murphy, “is worth more than the food.”

Pause, two, three.

“I’m kidding.”

That’s the way it went at the Laugh Factory, where everybody’s a comic, and everybody knows that the richest humor is often born of pain.

It would be hard to generalize about the people who were drawn to the club for its four seatings Thursday. There were out-of-work actors and comedians, newcomers to Los Angeles who had no friends or family nearby, a scattering of homeless people, and many elderly people who live in the neighborhood.

There was Kurt Lehovec, a Czech-born, self-published poet who said he intends to be famous after he dies. There was Susan Chung, a young, aspiring actress whose family is in Philadelphia and who heard about the Laugh Factory meal on the radio. There was Chris Ingham, who said he does maintenance work in Santa Monica, can’t afford to visit his family in Arizona and doesn’t have “a lot of friends or places to go.”

At the Laugh Factory, Ingham said, “the food’s just as good as mom’s cooking. That’s all I have to say.”

Ingham’s mother could not be reached for comment.

Volunteers, many from the entertainment industry, served the food -- 100 turkeys, 100 pounds of mashed potatoes, 100 pounds of stuffing, 100 pumpkin pies, and unspecified amounts of sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, salad and gravy.

Among those serving were comedians Frazer Smith, Gerry Bednob and Tom Dreesen. If they didn’t exactly knock ‘em dead in the serving line -- “You want gravy on that?” was Smith’s constant one-liner -- they later doffed their aprons to perform.

“My name is Tom Dreesen,” began the frequent ‘Tonight Show’ guest, “known to some of you folks as ‘dark meat and gravy.’ ”

Ba-boom.

Out of the Kitchen

And now, for something completely different.

We mean, completely different.

The tables were set, the turkey perfectly browned and roasted.

There were side dishes and desserts galore: Yukon Gold mashed potatoes, apple nut stuffing, sweet potatoes drizzled with honey.

It must be ... Disneyland, where chef Robert Arcos and his staff of 58 cooked for a few thousand guests at the Disneyland Hotel.

It might seem sacrilegious to eat at a hotel restaurant on Thanksgiving, one of America’s most traditional -- and least commercial -- holidays, a time devoted to family and friends.

Kim Barger didn’t see it that way. A noncook, Barger saw Disneyland as a place where she could spend her holiday relaxing. At home, she said, “You cook for two days, then you sit down to dinner, and it’s gone in 20 minutes.”

Barger, 43, made the trip to Anaheim from her home in Carmel with her family and her sister’s family. “We liked this so much, we decided to come back every other year.”

It’s already a tradition for Lonnie Dorsey, 49, who lives in Los Angeles and has been bringing her family to the hotel for 10 years.

“For Californians, especially those of us who are baby boomers, Disneyland is traditional,” she said. “We grew up on all these characters, and they have been part of our lives.”

Same with Anita DeLeon of Monterey Park, who’s also been bringing her family for 10 years.

“This festive atmosphere here gets me in the spirit,” she said. “I’m ready to start my shopping now.”

Times Staff Writers Dave McKibben and Kimi Yoshino contributed to this report.