Under the influence…

Los Feliz Murder House

Photo by Brian Boskind © 2014

September 3, 2014 – I’ve had a lifelong obsession with abandoned places, particularly those with especially tragic histories. Growing up in Atlanta, I was drawn again and again to the old Heinz Mansion where Henry Heinz had been murdered by an intruder in 1943, and within a decade or so, the sprawling Mediterranean stood empty and neglected, haunted by ghosts and thrill-seeking teenagers. Despite my normally timid nature, I returned there again and again. To this day, I’m convinced I saw a ghostly apparition hovering in the dining room on the anniversary of Heinz’ death. A few years ago, the flesh on the back of my neck prickled when I opened the Los Angeles Times to find a headline including the words “Murder—and Then a Mystery,” complete with a photo of a particularly foreboding and somewhat sinister looking mansion that conjured within me a delicious deja vu. The story of the house on Glendower—in my own neighborhood of Los Feliz, no less—was even more lurid and sensational than the Heinz saga. On the night of December 6, 1959, with Christmas just around the corner, something possessed Dr. Harold Perelson to bludgeon his wife to death with a ball-peen hammer as she sat in bed reading. He then attacked his teenage daughter, inflicting savage head wounds, before leaving her for dead and calmly going upstairs to check on his other two sleeping children—telling them that all was well and whatever they heard was just part of a vivid nightmare. Injured but still conscious, the teenage daughter managed to flee the house and alert the neighbors who called the police. Before they arrived, Dr. Perelson calmly sat down in his living room and drank a bottle of acid. The authorities came and concluded their investigation, cleaned up the traces of the savage crime, removed the children to safety, and then locked the place up.

And no one has lived in that colossal old mansion since that night.

In fact, it sat for decades like some macabre time capsule, everything exactly as it had been when the police finally left and locked its doors, the events of that horrific night forever memorialized by the decorated Christmas tree and its vintage paper-wrapped gifts, the old television set the family had watched together before Father embarked on his murderous rampage, and the children’s toys and games that would never be played with again. I immediately drove over to see this imposing edifice, but was too intimidated by the “No Trespassing” sign to go up and peek through the grimy windows to see if the Christmas tree still held its vigil over the house’s gruesome past. Subsequent owners left the Perelson’s belongings mostly untouched, and used the house only for storage. Rain has leaked through the roof in places, and scattered pots and buckets collect brackish water. As a writer, these details will be forever seared into my imagination, and the imagery of the story of “The Los Feliz Murder House” will undoubtedly recur in my work throughout my career as I remain under its spell. In fact, minus the ghastly slaughter, a few of the house’s more poignant details can be found making cameos in City of Whores. I hope you enjoy discovering them. Stay tuned…

For more fascinating reading, including photos of the interiors, go here and here. Or just Google “Glendower Murder House.”

5 thoughts on “Under the influence…

  1. Mark

    Wow, the Los Feliz Murder House would make a great stand alone title. This story is so cool, and I’m sorry somebody got bludgeoned to death, but the drinking of a bottle of acid by the murderer is the best button to the horror story you could ask for. In my imagination, whatever possessed him to kill, is still living in that house. So anyone who moves in there now will be “under the influence.”

  2. Valerie

    Mark, I too am drawn to abandon homes, schools, hospitals and the ever popular Insane asylum. I have never heard of the Glendower Murder house, but intend to find it! I will enjoy finding the bits and pieces of the mystery in City of Whores!

  3. Wvalles

    I remember when a bunch of us back in high school used to get up the nerve to sneak down there and wander in the shadows of that spooky old place before they reclaimed it in 1981. Used to scare hell out of us thinking and murmuring to one another about what we thought had gone on there and if somewhere behind the shadow of the creepy shadows, ghosts would appear. Of course, they never did, but we would laugh about it like madmen later on the trip back to Decatur.


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