You can preorder it now, or it will be available for pickup at the club or for shipping as of December 2, 2026.
Reprinted with the permission of The Los Angeles Breakfast Club.® Photos are my own.
In the halcyon days of early Los Angeles, nearly three quarters of a century after the town was incorporated and thriving enough to be considered a "real city," there was a grand group of sportsmen—many from the Los Angeles National Horse Show ranks—who gathered to
venture into Griffith Park and find respite from their daily toils.
Led by Broadway merchant Maurice De Mond, they’d take a constitutional ride on horseback at daybreak—clip-clopping and cantering, and jawing away at such topics that would surely make their wives blush.
It was 1924‚ and for years already, Prohibition had been curtailing evening entertainment,
drying up the social lives of spirited revelers of the night owl nature. So, what else would well-bred,
responsible sportsmen do but try to find fun and frolic wherever and whenever they could?
In the case of these men, these riding men, they found both society and solace at the Griffith Park Riding Academy, an enterprise of an instructor named Al Meyer.
It started that spring as a Friday custom, a way to round out the week. At break of day, these gents would pull on their jodhpurs and boots to get ready for a golden hour of leisure—communing with nature in one of the still-wildest parts of the growing city.
They’d trace their way along the chaparral-covered hillsides, carving their way through the sylvan
groves of eucalyptus, past patches of buckwheat and shrubs of toyon.
The horsemen would then mark the end of a morning-in-saddle by finding a "beauty spot" in
the park—some picturesque location with a stunning view to behold—to foregather for a hearty
breakfast.
In the beginning, financier Marco H. Hellman (of Hellman Bank) would bring his own chuckwagon—a bit of Old West cowboy romance in the face of growing citification. Thanks to this weekly
routine, businessmen of the best repute could embrace the traditions of their rough-and-tumble
Californian forefathers in a West that wasn’t nearly so wild anymore.
Soon enough, their little group began to grow—Hellman being so enamored with horseback riding that he literally gave away horses to people so they could join, and the others being so charmed by the rides taken in the newborn day that they began to invite more to come along.
But then the riders began to make their breakfasts a bit more civilized—by joining up at the stables down below and enjoying an open-air meal after their rides were over, rather than lugging the grub
up the rough and steep terrain to enjoy it along the dirt path.
How did these kindred souls, who took pleasure in horsey talk and horseback galloping, find each
other—and keep growing the size of their sunrise rendezvous? Well, we have Maurice De Mond to thank for that.
One fortuitous morning in the autumn of 1924, one of Hellman’s fellow bankers happened to join the bridle brigade, one who happened to be good enough with a turn of a phrase to regale the riders with a story or two. Add to that some musicians that Hellman had hired to perform amidst the briars—and something dawned on De Mond.
Weren’t there hundreds of others, he thought, who’d also want to saddle up their steeds for a morning canter through Griffith Park, followed by a well-provisioned meal, an engaging speaker, and a bit of entertainment?
In a flash of inspiration, De Mond proposed making it official—and forming an actual club, a riding club, and perhaps more importantly, a breakfast club.
For the rest of the story, read The Los Angeles Breakfast Club: A Century of Hollywood, Hi-Jinks, and Ham & Eggs, available for preorder now.
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