Metro Series - Civic Center, Day One

The night before my exploration of Civic Center, I had a fairly clear picture in my head of how it was going to go. While there are a handful of interesting sights in the area (some of which I had to postpone lest I venture into Pershing Square territory, thereby cannibalizing my next entry), as the civic and legal center to the city there are understandably not a bevy of tourist spots. Aside from seeing a show at the Music Center or attending mass at the Cathedral, I would wager that most voluntary visitors to the area only visit when they are serving on a jury. To that end I assumed that a large part of my visit would involve the architecture of the area, that the narrative would revolve around talking about the buildings and their history – so much so that I had practically started writing before I even stepped foot out of the house. I was already thinking about John Parkinson, previously mentioned for his work on Union Station, and his involvement in the design of City Hall. I would discuss the Walt Disney Concert Hall and how it is next to impossible to take a bad picture of a Frank Gehry design, especially in the golden hour, that long light at the end of the day. And to a certain extent, that is what I found. What I hadn’t planned on was how the area would make me feel, how much it would get into my head, and how long it would take me to figure out just what it was that I was feeling.

Starting off my day and emerging from underground I am initially a bit disoriented, coming up not at the intersection as I had assumed, but rather in the middle of the block. Fortunately City Hall serves as a very convenient navigation point, its 454-foot tower easy to spot from all over the area. Recalibrating my internal compass I head off in its general direction and am immediately struck by two things, that there is a lot of construction in the area and that aside from a few spectacular buildings most of the architecture is rather non-descript, the buildings more famous for what has happened within the walls than for the walls themselves. Case in point, the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center at Broadway and Temple. Built in 1972 it is a testament to the architecture of the era, which is to once again say, rather non-descript. Within the walls, however, it is a veritable who’s who of celebrity murder trials – OJ Simpson, Phil Spector, Dr. Conrad Murray. That’s not to say that the area is without charm, especially if, like me, you hold a soft spot for mid-century architecture like the 1961 Modernist Hall of Records building which is found across Broadway from Clara Foltz. It is the kind of building that makes me immediately imagine floors full of men with buzz cuts, white shirts, narrow black ties, and thick, black rimmed glasses. For some reason I imagine the 60’s workforce composed entirely of NASA Mission Control circa the moon landings.

The most impressive building in the area is also the most hidden - boarded up, fenced off and overgrown the Hall of Justice sits on yet another corner of Broadway and Temple, abandoned since sustaining damage in the 1994 Northridge earthquake. The neoclassical Beaux-Arts style building was completed in 1926 and was home at one time to the Los Angeles county courts, coroner, sheriff and district attorney as well as being the primary county jail which housed the likes of Bugsy Siegal, Charles Manson, and Sirhan Sirhan. Notables who passed through the coroners included Marilyn Monroe and Robert Kennedy.

Now it sits, a ghost inside the city. There are plans to restore the building, repair the damage and give it a good scrub, at which point it will once again serve as the Sheriff’s Headquarters. While it will be nice to see it returned to its former glory, I suspect that fixing it and inhabiting it will take away some of the allure for me. Living history is nice; ghosts from the past are better. One last peek through the fence and I turn the corner, back toward the present, back to City Hall.

I am excited about this stop and even happier to discover that I have happened upon a weekly farmers market in City Hall Park, right in the shadow of the tower. Always one to appreciate a good farmers market I take a little stroll through the booths, sampling the fruits, listening to the chatter of the crowd, enjoying the delicious aromas emanating from the hot food tents. I’m further thrilled to find that this is one of the markets frequented by Corn Maiden, makers of gourmet and (slightly) healthier tamales. I now know what I am having for lunch, but first, City Hall.

Gracing the badges of the LAPD and recognizable to any fan of Dragnet, City Hall was designed by John C. Austin, Albert C. Martin, Sr., and the aforementioned John Parkinson and was completed in 1928. At the time of its completion it was the tallest building in Los Angeles, an honor it would hold until 1964 thanks to a law that prohibited any structure taller than 150 feet. The tower was supposedly built to resemble the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus – one of the seven wonders of the ancient world – though one can also see some similarity to the Los Angeles Public Library, which had been completed just two years prior. Truly a California monument, the concrete used in the tower was made with sand from each of California’s 58 counties and water from the 21 historical missions.

Passing through the public entrance on Main St. I embark on what feels like a scavenger hunt. Signing in at the desk I receive a visitors badge and a list of instructions – my clues. Take the express elevator to the 22nd floor. Once there, transfer to the local elevator and take that another four floors, to the 26th, where you will find the Tom Bradley Room and portraits of a majority of LA’s previous mayors. Interesting in and of itself, but not what I am here for. Up the grand staircase to the 27th and the meeting room, ready for a speech with rows of chairs facing a podium framed by flags. Then through the doors and outside to the 27th floor observation deck – a free 360-degree view of downtown Los Angeles. I wander around the deck, taking in the view and snapping pictures from every vantage point, realizing just how in flux this area is. Two thirds of the block directly in front of City Hall across Spring Street lays vacant and fenced off. The end lot holds a mysterious foundation, its original purpose eluding me so far, another ghost in the middle of the city, another spot I want to explore but am unable to do so.

The middle lot shows more signs of life, being under active construction. On the next block up lies the Court of Flags, where I emerged from underground, and beyond that another block with more construction. It turns out that the entire area is being revitalized, the current promenade between Grand and Spring being undated with the goal of turning Civic Center into a “Central Park” for Los Angeles. The revamped 16-acre promenade between City Hall and the Music Center will include a grand terrace, a great lawn, gardens, and a plaza. Three parking lots around the Walt Disney Concert Hall will be replaced with mixed-use lots combining residential towers, retail blocks, and hotel space. An ambitious undertaking and one I am interested to see the results of.

Looking further out, I realize how small downtown actually is and how little attention I’ve paid on previous trips. Chinatown, Union Station, Little Tokyo, the Music Center, all visible from here, all within walking distance, and aside from the Music Center, I’m not sure I would have been able to tell you that City Hall was visible from any of these spots. Broadening your gaze and through a bit of Los Angeles haze you can see Dodger Stadium and Elysium Park, Griffith Park and the Observatory, and the Hollywood sign. It is a spectacular view and no one seems to know about it.

I spend at least half an hour popping back and forth from one side to the next and no one shows up. In a city the size of Los Angeles, with the number of tourists that visit every year, you would think more people would know about this, more people would be taking advantage of this unique and free view of the city. The only down side is that the deck is only accessible during regular City Hall hours, which makes it difficult for anyone with a 9-5 job, but it is absolutely worth it if you find yourself in the area on a weekday with a little time on your hands. Realizing that I am short on time I head back down the stairs and make a quick circle around the 26th floor taking in the portraits of previous mayors, and thinking that we really don’t know how to rock a sweet beard anymore. Check in with Thomas Foster or Prudent Beaudry and I think you’ll agree. Waiting for the elevator I finally see someone else coming up for the view, a lone visitor who appears to have a jurors badge. Thankfully this is not a revenue source for the city or we would be in even more financial trouble than we already are.

Retracing my steps I head back out to the farmers market, grab a couple tamales, and make my way back up Temple to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels for a free guided tour. I’ve passed through the Cathedral before but never spent much time there and walking into the grounds I am once again struck by the sounds of the city fading away – a small oasis in the city, made more impressive by its location directly next to the 101.

The tour is actually very informative and not overtly religious, though being a tour of a Roman Catholic cathedral it is obviously not devoid of religion. Designed by the Spanish architect Professor José Rafael Moneo and built between 1999 and 2002, the Cathedral replaced the Cathedral of Saint Vibiana as the Roman Catholic Archdiocese after that building was also damaged in the Northridge earthquake. While I won’t go into great detail on the history and architecture of the building, as I would be unable to do the volunteer docents justice, there were a handful of facts that jumped out at me. First the location – traditionally European cathedrals were built next to rivers and Moneo considered the Hollywood Freeway as LA’s “river of transportation,” connecting people to each other. With the design of the cathedral, all the exterior glass that can be seen is simply there to protect the actual windows of the cathedral, which are made from alabaster.

And for durability (the cathedral was designed to last for 500 years) the 75,500-ton building sits on 198 base isolators allowing it to “float” up to 27 inches during earthquakes of up to 8.0 magnitude. As a result of this there are some support columns in the courtyard that are purely decorative – the beams that they “support” actually floating a few inches above them. Anyone interested in what came before can head less than a mile south to the original Saint Vibiana’s at the corner of Main and 2nd. Now called simply Vibiana, the old cathedral houses a performing arts complex, event space, and the Little Tokyo branch of the Los Angeles Public Library.

Once more on the move I head down Grand, passing through the Music Center, on my way to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Having been through here only when seeing a show, it feels a little strange to walk by the Ahmanson and Taper when they are quiet and devoid of people. Pausing briefly I realize that it is a familiar feeling and one that I find somewhat bittersweet. It is the feeling of being the last one there, the feeling you get when something you have been anticipating comes and goes, the feeling when everyone else has moved on but you aren’t quite ready to let go. It’s interesting that I feel it here and now. Perhaps an echo from my theatre past, the energy of theatre lingering across time. One more moment of taking it in and then moving on. I will be back again tomorrow.

On Thursdays MOCA offers free admission after 5:00 and I debate waiting a couple of hours to take advantage of that but ultimately decide that $10 to support art is worth the cost. A good decision as it turns out since I have managed to show up on installation day and because only half of the museum is accessible, admission is free anyway. Walking in, the smell of oil paints instantly takes me back to any number of museums and galleries that I’ve visited with my father. Standing in front of a Rothko I am reminded of a half serious conversation I had with him - my father, not Rothko - on several occasions, that it was harder to see “modern” art as art because it was something that I could do. His reply was always, “but you didn’t.”

This is actually what I love about “modern” art, the feeling that I could do it. Standing in front of a Rembrandt or Rubens is intimidating. Standing in front of a Rothko or Pollack is inspiring, the seeming simplicity of their work makes me want to pick up paints and create. The irony being that more often than not, I couldn’t do it. Trying to reproduce a Rothko or Pollack, it comes out amateurish, without feeling – they are more than paint on canvas. But the inspiration is there.

The museum houses an impressive collection, some beautiful pieces by names I recognize, which is apparently integral to my criteria for an impressive collection. Mark Rothko, Robert Rauschenberg, John Chamberlain, Jasper Johns, Roy Lichtenstein…but it is the Jackson Pollack that grabs my eye and holds my attention.

Number 1, 1949. I stand, transfixed, and find myself having an unusual thought. I want to get inside the painting. I’ve had that thought about other, more traditional paintings, pieces by Edward Hopper, Norman Rockwell, and Claude Monet, but this is not generally the sort of painting that one would say that about. Gazing at it, eyes darting every which way following the chaos of the paint, it looks comfortable, like an inviting embrace. Up close I marvel at the minds ability to assign order to chaos. I find faces, small figures, full bodies in motion. I try to find the last color applied, tracing a line until I find it interrupted by another color. I want to touch the painting, to feel the thickness of the paint, and figure that this is a good time to move on. They don’t take to kindly to touching the art. Walking through the rest of the accessible space there are other pieces that draw me in, but none to this extent. It is a nice collection and is definitely worth a stop if you are at all interested in art. Reflecting on what I’ve seen as I wander out of the museum I stumble across another quiet oasis in the city. Behind the museum in a pedestrian throughway lay a fountain and a pair of reflecting pools. Sitting by one of the pools I am overcome with a sense of calm contentment. I’ve found a new favorite place downtown.

For the most part my day is done. I wander around a bit more, grabbing shots of the Disney Concert Hall and City Hall from the top of one of the parking garages that will eventually give way to one of the mixed-use lots. Looking back on my day I am struck with the feeling that there was little to connect my various stops, that my sightseeing felt a bit like randomly flipping through channels and just catching snippets of different shows – CNN to Bravo to ESPN, City Hall to Our Lady of the Angels to MOCA. Little connection and no obvious through line, but somehow it works. I make my way back home, still thinking about the various things I’ve seen, and would in fact end up thinking about the area for most of the night. Civic Center had gotten into my head and it wouldn’t let go. Fortunately I was all set to go back again the next day.

Click on photos for larger views.

For more photos, visit my flickr page…

For more information on the Catherdral of Our Lady of the Angels,
visit their website…

For more information on the Museum of Contemporary Art,
visit their website…