by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Peter the Hermit was a French Catholic priest who, at the end of the 11th century, led the “People’s Crusade” to retake the Holy Land from the Muslims, but this enterprise, which included a massacre of European Jews, the sacking of a Serbian city and the destruction or enslavement of most of the pilgrims outside Constantinople (Istanbul) before he joined the princes during the First Crusade who took Jerusalem in 1099 and then returned to France where he died in 1115. Over eight centuries later, in 1925, it was reported that his bones were unearthed at Huy, Belgium.
At that time, there was another Peter the Hermit, this one residing high in the Hollywood Hills at Lookout Mountain in the Laurel Canyon area, and he, too, had a crusade of sorts as he railed at the film industry and rapped “Follywood” for what he thundered were its foibles and failures—though he also sought a place in movies during the course of his many years living in the area. The featured artifact for this post is a press photo with a January 1926 date. Born in Ireland, probably sometime in the 1870s, Peter Howard maintained his persona for some six decades and was one of the more unusual and colorful characters associated with Hollywood from the early days of the industry until the late 1960s.
Due to his own shifting statements about his life, it can be challenging to nail down specifics about Howard. It may be that he migrated from Ireland to the United States in 1901, if a census listing is correct. Some sources stated he was a sailor in his youth and others reported he was a missionary in Hawaii. His arrival in the Angel City was often pegged at between 1908 and 1912. One of the earliest detailed accounts located is from the 30 September 1923 edition of the Los Angeles Times, which ran a headline of “Hermit of Hills Claims Strange Curing Power” for an article by Pauline Fergusson. The piece began with,
If you want to know your lucky number of the color of your aura or the true key to your baffling personality, there is a man in Hollywood who will supply you with the information—free of charge. It is not a business with him, but a religion. He believes that in thus enlightening mankind he is rendering a pleasing service to God.
Fergusson added that the hermit “lives in a tent on top of a lonely Hollywood hill” with a pair of donkeys, a dog “and the spirits of the dead for company,” while “he eats only raw vegetables and nuts, scorning meat, and sleeps on an iron cot in the indifferent shelter of a clump of eucalyptus trees.” In addition to Peter the Hermit, he was known as Peter the Curer and the journalist noted that readers may well have seen him on his jaunts through the movie capital.
Howard was further described as “a short, muscular man, with long, sand-colored hair that mingles with his tangled beard, suggesting some anguished Biblical character.” He avoided shoes, though often wore straw sandals, as well as stoves, razors, automobiles and other evils because “they fetter the spirit as well as the body of man.” It was asserted by some, however, that the hermit was interested in “press-agent purposes, with the idea of impressing casting directors.” In fact, an early mention of him in the local press concerned his reported hiring for an unnamed 1919 film directed by Allen Holubar starring Dorothy Phillips.
One rumor suggested he had a wife and six children residing in a comfortable apartment, while another insisted that he took to the hills because of a failed relationship and yet a different version claimed “he is living out the curious terms of a rich uncle’s will.” One of Fergusson’s friends, however, told her that Howard “is an earnest, hard-working man, earning what money he needs by odd jobs” and wanting to help others “through his singularly mixed religion.” She added that many folks ascended the hill to his humble abode “to have him pray over them and advise them in their difficulties.”
This was an era of a wide spectrum of alternative religious expression, including evangelists and healers like Aimee Semple McPherson, the Theosophists, and many others, with a good deal of these labeled cults by mainstream churches and others unsettled by the Angel City’s attraction of such figures. Fergusson ventured up to visit the hermit, having heard stories of those who’d “left his hermitage cured of a sore spirit or a sore back.” She went on a weekday, so there were just three others present, but she was gently chided for wearing a red belt as Howard lectured in “a deep Irish voice” to a woman about her emotionality and propensity to over-worry.
Addressing the small assemblage “in a nervous, rapid voice,” the hermit turned to what was apparently “a well-memorized sermon” about the transgression of natural laws, the inviting of trouble through ignorance and the need to “decide what you want to do in life and stick to it.” He also advised to laugh often as “it is fine for the digestion and takes the sting out of disappointments.” Turning to a man, he claimed “you are easy to read” with drooping shoulders, this reflecting discouragement and a lack of assertiveness, while guessing that the gent, a musician, ate pancakes, meat and potatoes that were so hard to digest that it affected his songwriting ability much less the capacity to get good sleep.
Hectoring his hearer that “you’re a damned fool!” Howard exhorted the young man to eat raw vegetables and cut down on meat and walk at least 20 blocks after work to get the blood circulating before eating dinner, while another stroll before composing would help with the creative process. He covered the man’s eyes, said a short prayer and asked what colors were seen while this was taking place. Hearing that these were blue and gold, the hermit expressed satisfaction as “those are splendid colors.” Once the others left and Fergusson discussed them with Howard, she wrote,
his manner suddenly underwent a startling change. He resumed his pacing up and down, flourishing his arms and talking incoherently with fanatical fervor. Occasionally, I caught a reference to reincarnation and the presence of evil as well as noble spirits among the dead; again there would be something about the Sinn Feiners [the organization involved in the Irish independence movement of the period], and once he raged eloquently on the subject of sweatshops.
Snapped out of his internal monologue expressed outwardly without acknowledgement of the reporter, Howard returned to his critique of her dress including the admonition that her wearing heels was “an abomination” that “throw the whole body out of position!” After incorrectly guessing that she was a musician, he then declaimed “sure, now I have it! You’re a writer—they are always nervous and high-strung. Besides, I can tell by the vibrations.” When he added, “you let people impose on you too much,” which Fergusson allowed was the case, she “began to view Peter with respect.”
When she asked what he would do if he had a daughter, the hermit answered “I would see that she had the proper food and exercise and education in childhood, so that she would grow strong” but then added he would make her work in a sweatshop (see above) so she could understand hard work and “understand and sympathize with the poorer classes of mankind.” When Fergusson inquired if her was a socialist, Howard rejoined with “I am an occult.” Shown the interior of the tent, she noted it had a dirt floor, a small table, a pair of ragged suitcases, and boxes of beets, carrots, celery and nuts.” One of the cases contained books including a Bible and several metaphysical tomes.
When asked if he was lonesome, the hermit answered, “I can always summon the spirits of the dead for company. Or I can project my body through space and visit my friends.” As to the rumors of a wife, “he looked dejected” and told the reporter he was supposed to get married four months, or four years (he couldn’t recall), previously but this woman would not accept his life and, for example, had to have cooked food. He then intoned with expressions of pity that
Most people cannot see that simplicity is the key to contentment. They are too greedy in their desires. They eat too much, drink too much, work too much, play too much—all slaves to their appetites. [After discussing his consultations with seekers of his help] Along I am just a common Irishman, full of fears and superstitions—yes, I admit it—but with [God’s] help I am skilled psychologist and clairvoyant.
As for his inclination to tell people their lucky numbers, he was sheepish when the journalist asked about it, telling her “if they want to believe that certain numbers are lucky for them, that is fine” before allowing that “it is all very puzzling!” Tracing her steps down the hill, Fergusson noted that Peter accepted no payment for his services and, while not particularly educated and “obviously highly neurotic,” he attracted legions of those seeking his help.
A friend who lived nearby remarked “he accomplished some extraordinary cures” including the woman’s husband, who suffered from back pain. Fergusson brought up Emile Coué and his use of psychotherapy through autosuggestion and the friend concluded, “well, perhaps, but whatever ‘ism’ it is Peter practices, it works.”
A Times editorial from 16 May 1927, despite Fergusson’s detailed reporting of his neuroses, assigned him the moniker of “The Happy Hermit,” referring to his “rude hut” on Lookout Mountain and observing that his was a life of “peace and contentment” with only a greyhound as a companion. The paper felt that his was as primitive an existence as could be conceived, raising his vegetables in a garden, having no radio, wearing only “a coarse shirt and a pair of near-white trousers.” It did state that he occasionally ventured with his dog down the hill to engage in conversation, but often did so briefly and then it was “back to the shack and solitude. The piece ended with the comment that,
It’s the sound of the human voice, the hermit says, that he cannot get along without. Otherwise he is about as independent of the world as one could hope to be in these modern days.
In our parlance, Howard lived “off the grid,” although there were times when he felt compelled to move because development was inexorably forcing its way into his mountaintop domain. In late 1924, it was reported that “energetic real estate subdividers” were encroaching to the point where he’d have to “steal silently over the hill” toward the San Fernando Valley side of the Santa Monica Mountains. The 6 December 1925 issue of the Los Angeles Illustrated Daily News reported that Peter was moving to Topanga Canyon because “civilization has insidiously been making the recluse too civilized for his own happiness.”
Decrying that “I can’t stand the noise of the city” and asserting that “I wish for the silence of nature, where I may eat the herbs of the field, and be closer to the Infinite” as he moved his few possessions and “his spirit cried out against the materialism of the age,” Howard played up his protestations against modern life, but was also frequently photographed and appeared in press accounts, while also returning to Lookout Mountain, no doubt because it kept him close to publicity. Many of these complaints against civilization seemed like stunts, such as his being pictured with the same autos he purportedly despised or taking one of his burros to a mechanic’s shop for “service,” or when he took dancing lessons or posed with a well-known vegetarian.
The apogee of his desire for fame came when he met Ilya Tolstoy, the son of the famous Russian writer (and a proponent of vegetarianism) and who was in Hollywood to work on a Edwin Carewe-directed film, Resurrection. The two men bonded over their dietary philosophy and it was soon reported that Howard was being considered for the leading role of Prince Dimitry Ivanich in the picture opposite Dolores del Rio playing Katyusha Maslova. She reportedly said there was no way she could play a love scene with Peter as he might do well as Jesus, but “as Romeo—a—a big flop!”
Yet, when it was stated that the hermit had to cut off his beard, don certain apparel including those accursed shoes and make other concessions to dramatic license, he apparently refused. Beyond this, it was routinely stated that Peter was in his late 80s and had worn his ample whiskers for over six decades. When Rod LaRocque, a major star and at least twenty years younger than Howard, was hired, the hermit turned to another feature of modern life, litigation, and filed suit against Tolstoy, Carewe and others involved in the production, seeking a cool $130,000 in damages.
The legal battle, as these often are, dragged on for nearly two years and, ultimately, the hermit settled for the princely sum of $250. Small wonder, then, that the “Hermit of Hollywood” became a virulent critic of what he called “Follywood,” even though he was allegedly considered for the title role in Warner Brothers’ dramatic rendering of Noah’s Ark (1928), in which Paul McAllister played the character and, in 1934, he conducted an interview in which he claimed he would make his own films, including one in which he’d play St. Peter (in 1926, there was a report of a film company set up specifically to feature the hermit, though that went nowhere).
In September 1929, during a late summer/early fall season with many regional wildfires, a 150-acre blaze erupted in the Santa Monicas and the Times of 17 September reported that “the home of a hermit of the Hollywood Hills, was destroyed in the swiftly spreading fire,” which was said to have begun near Howard’s modest dwelling. The 1930 federal census lists a Peter Howard, native of the Irish Free State, of unknown age, with no occupation residing on Wonderland Avenue near Lookout Mountain, and owner of a $700 residence—the other houses around him were valued at between $6,000 and $20,000.
Eight years later, the hermit appeared in the Superior Court wearing duck trousers and sandals, but also with a tweed jacket, to testify against a contractor charged with taking $500 donated by friends of Peter “for purchase of a hillside hermitage.” The Times of 10 March 1938 noted that “the money originally was used to buy Peter property on Lookout Mountain . . . with the understanding that the money be used to obtain another parcel of land farther from the ravages of civilization.” By the next year, Howard was living, along with a pair of other older men, in a small place behind the Studio City house of a pottery plant owner along Ventura Boulevard very close to the Mack Sennett (later CBS and now the Radford) Studio.
During the 1930s and 1940s, Howard occasionally showed up in the press, including in an ad billing him as the “Philosopher of Hollywood” in a pair of presentations at the Church of the Absolute in Long Beach, posing in photos with tourists or in the garden at his short-lived residence, about 1945, near Ojai in Ventura County or showing off his burro-riding skills. The 1950 census enumerated the hermit at just about the same Studio City location he’d occupied a decade before and, five years later, he was depicted posting for Pierce College art students. The following year, a portrait of him was shown in Hollywood in a sidewalk exhibit of local painters emulating a Parisian method of art display.
In August 1964, a feature on Howard titled “Peter the Hermit Raps Hollywood” reported that he occasionally showed up in Tinseltown to “awaken the populace to such dangers as war and girdles,” with the latter including his penchant for slapping “passing ladies on the backside with his staff, [and] then deliver a lecture on the ill effects from confining the body with elastic devices.” He was then living on Ivar Avenue just north of U.S. 101 and the mailbox outside his home displayed his real name of Peter Howard. It was added that he was visited in his room wearing “his usual freshly washed white duck pants, [and] open-neck sweatshirt” while maintaining the “dogged patriarchal . . . flowing thatch and profuse beard.”
When asked how old he was, the hermit answered “I’m ageless” and told the reporter he was from County Limerick in the southwest of the Emerald Isle, “had gone to sea as a lad,” sedulously studied the religions of the world “and had come to Hollywood because of the great promise it held.” It was then noted that “his encounter with Hollywood appears to have helped encourage his career as a hermit” and the article went on,
I never call it Hollywood, he snorted, I call it Follywood. The movies could have become the coming church, the universal language. But that promise wasn’t realized. Follywood! It has ruined more homes than siege guns. The movies show nothing but war, crime and sex. Follywood never gave anything to anybody. All the moviemakers do is fool the people. Movie people mean nothing to me. They’re shysters, all of them.
He did add that he headed down to Hollywood Boulevard “to spread good tidings and the great joy,” but spent more of his time in “the hills “his beloved hills, there to contemplate the follies of man.” Howard told the journalist he needed little because he was a vegetarian and cracked, “Thank God I haven’t got the grabesis nor dollaresis” and then “cackled” over his witticism and added, “put that down! This will be the greatest article you ever wrote.”
On 14 March 1969, following a stroke the prior day, Howard died at USC-County Hospital with it reported that “his age was listed on the hospital’s medical records as 99 plus.” As noted above, accuracy is tricky with much of his life, including his age. While it was claimed during the Roaring Twenties that he was pushing 90, he testified in the 1938 court case that he was “around 60 years of age,” placing his birth year at about 1878, though it was added he “likes to infer he is as old as Methuselah [the longest-lived human according to the Bible at 969 years] ever was.” The 1940 census listed him as 65, a few years prior to that, while the enumeration a decade later showed his age as 78, or born about 1872.
Whatever his true age was, and it seems safe to say he was somewhere in his 90s, the Valley Times of the 14th, stated that “the famous hermit stepped right out of fantasy land” and added,
Deeply sunburned, a flowing white mane, long bears and a Malacca type cane, this picturesque individual long has been a Hollywood human landmark, far more intriguing than an individual cast for the motion pictures which he loved and which he attempted to outshine in his perambulations on Hollywood Boulevard.
In his later years, Peter virtually lived up to his name, however. He was difficult to see and haunted the hills.
Of all the eccentric characters that have populated what is often referred to as “La-La-Land,” Peter Howard, the “Hermit of Hollywood” and fulminator of “Follywood,” stands out for his longevity as well as his ability to attract attention for his unusual way of live for about sixty years.