Metro Series - Civic Center, Day Two

Having been so sure what I was going to write before embarking on my first day of Civic Center exploration, I now found myself on the opposite side of the spectrum. Heading back downtown to fill in some gaps, I was no longer sure what I would say, unable to find a through line, unable to piece together my own narrative of the area. I had tried to organize my thoughts the night before, but they ultimately mirrored my general feeling about the area – random and unconnected. But through it all, I couldn’t deny that the area had gotten into my head, that it had affected me in some way. Sitting once again on the Metro Red Line, I was happy that I had been unable to tour both the cathedral and the Music Center on the same day, as I now had the perfect excuse to go in for a second look, to see what I could find on day two.

Arriving a little ahead of my 12:30 tour start time I decide to get a preview of coming attractions and mosey on over to the Grand Central Market, firmly in Pershing Square territory, for a quick lunch at Sarita’s Pupuseria before hopping on the Angels Flight for the short trip up the hill - tales of which will have to wait until my Pershing Square entry.

Heading up Grand Avenue I pass through and briefly pause at my MOCA oasis, momentarily sitting in contemplation by one of the reflecting pools, before continuing on to the Walt Disney Concert Hall for the start of the tour. While tickets to see a concert can get pricey, tours of the center are delightfully free and occur, with a few exceptions, daily. Their most comprehensive offering, a self-guided audio tour narrated by John Lithgow and covering conception to completion of the Hall, lasts about one hour. They also offer an hour-long docent lead tour of the Hall, which presents highlights of the building and covers the interior space and exterior gardens. I, however, have decided to go with the Symphonian, a 90-minute, four theatre tour, which provides architectural highlights and an historical overview of the entire Music Center. I assume this is probably the lightest of the three on content, as a lot more ground has to be covered in only slightly more time, but after what I felt passing through the area the day before, I can’t resist the opportunity to get a little more behind the scenes of those other theatres.

The tour starts in the newest addition to the Music Center - Disney Hall. Designed by Frank Gehry and completed in 2003, it serves as home to both the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the Los Angeles Master Chorale. Having never been inside, I find myself just as impressed with the fluidity of the interior design as I am with that of the exterior. It is an amazingly open, inviting space, with grand, sweeping lines drawing your eyes further in and further up and I find myself wondering what other Gehry buildings I can get into and explore. While a visual delight, my initial suspicion that this particular tour would be a bit lighter in content seems to be confirmed. Due to near constant rehearsals, the auditorium is understandably not part of the tour, but as we wind our way up the levels, through the various lobbies, and finally out to the upper garden I feel as if we are being quickly shuffled from one spot to the next while our guide tosses out tidbits of information that seem more like interesting facts she once read somewhere than well researched tour information. Compounding this, members of the tour group are providing her with information. A Canadian couple points out that Gehry is a fellow Canadian when she guesses that he is American. I’m not sure if this is more a fault of the tour or a failing of the guide, but I’m a little jealous when we pass people doing the self guided tour, ears pressed to their audio devices – I’m sure John Lithgow does a marvelous job. In the upper garden, out of view of the surrounding area, you can still see a portion of the building with the original reflective finish, part of the initial design, which called for a more mirrored surface. When they realized that the reflection of the Los Angeles sun was blinding passers by and tenants of the surrounding buildings as well as creating hot spots in excess of 140 degrees on the sidewalk, the design was altered and the majority of the outer shell was dulled into what you see today. The garden itself is another delight. Open to the public and accessible from both Grand and 2nd, it is another quiet oasis that I had no idea existed. Unexpectedly this part of downtown is quickly becoming the place I want to come to relax away from the hustle and bustle.

Continuing on we cross 2nd and make our way to the other theatres, the ones I am more familiar with, and the ones that gave me pause the day before. For the moment we pass by the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and head into the Mark Taper Forum. Designed by Welton Becket (as were the Dorothy Chandler and the Ahmanson), the Taper opened in 1967 and was actually designed without a specific tenant in mind, being considered for anything from chamber music to grand jury meetings, before becoming home to the Center Theatre Group. In 2008 the space was renovated – the size of the lobby with its beautiful curving abalone wall was increased, the seats were widened slightly, and the number of women’s restroom stalls was quadrupled. As the space is currently between shows we are able to enter the theatre and once inside I am again struck by that bittersweet feeling I felt the day before. An empty stage, save for the ghost light, and memories of what has been there before and the promise of what could be. Our docent is offering some token facts, talking about seat count and the type of productions that are mounted in the theatre, but I am lost in the moment and only half aware of what she is saying. As she begins ushering us back out I find myself wanting to slip away from the group, to stay behind, to stand here on that stage. I like this space but we are moving on.

Moving on, across the way, to the Ahmanson, which was also opened in 1967. Larger scale than the Taper – at 1,600 to 2,100 seats depending on theatre configuration it holds 2-3 times more people – this is where the heavy hitters are staged, the crowd pleasing, blockbuster musicals. Once again we are able to enter the theatre, and in doing so I get another moment of bittersweet reflection, a small hint of past glory, though not as strong as the feeling that I had in the Taper. Sitting in this theatre my mind again wanders back, though not as far, thoughts cast back to shows I’ve seen here. Recent recollections. The group is providing more information for the docent – “33 Variations” is ending its run and a Dutch couple is offering insight into Beethoven. This time I don’t think I can fault the docent for not being up on her classical composers. And once more we are on the move, much to see and little time to see it in.

Retracing our steps we make our last stop of the tour. The first theatre to open in the Music Center, the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was completed in 1964. The site of many Academy Award shows before the completion of the Kodak Theatre, the Dorothy Chandler is home to both the Los Angeles Opera and Dance at the Music Center. As with Disney Hall I have never been inside this particular theatre and am once again impressed with the grandeur. While obviously of a different era, the mammoth chandeliers and sweeping staircases, coupled with a stage which is as deep as the house is long, creates a space worthy of staging an opera. However, the spot that catches my interest the most is not related to the theatre at all, but rather to the area as it once was.

The Music Center sits in the middle of Bunker Hill, which was first developed in 1867 by Prudent Beaudry (who you may remember from my last entry as a former Los Angeles mayor and man of awesome beard fame). Filled with Victorian houses the area was an exclusive neighborhood whose glory days lasted through WWI, after which the wealthy residents of the area began a gradual migration to Pasadena and the West Side. In decline for the next forty years, Bunker Hill would reach near slum status and by 1955 it would be marked for redevelopment by the Los Angeles City Planners, making way for the construction of the Grand Avenue Corridor – an undertaking which is still in progress. Hanging in the bar on the Founders level of the Dorothy Chandler is a large, three-dimensional piece of art that replicates the Victorian structures using lumber reclaimed from the demolition of the homes. It is a piece of art that manages to strike a chord with me, touching on both my love of the history of a place as well as my fondness for dioramas. I imagine a miniature version of myself wandering through the buildings of this work and, by extension, through the old streets of Bunker Hill and somewhere inside of this piece of art I begin to understand what has been running through my head, just out of reach.

I start to understand why this area has affected me the way that it has, what it is that draws me in. I think about how things change and how much my interaction with a place is not necessarily focused on what is, but rather on what was, and how what was defines my love of a place. This is not a groundbreaking personal revelation as I have always tended toward nostalgia, but it is the way this love of place has manifested over the past couple of days that gets my attention. My attraction to places like the Hall of Justice – a snapshot of the past, no longer moving forward. The feeling that if I could only get inside I could somehow connect to the past. The pull of places like the Music Center – firmly rooted in a specific time but able to evoke a wistfulness, to recall a fondly remembered past whether real or imagined. Even places more connected to the present, it is the journey of that place that really draws me in – the evolution of an entire area from exclusive homes to accessible urban use. These feelings are the through line that I have been chasing, they are what, for me, ties together these seemingly unrelated sites. They reconcile the years between the 1935 Art Moderne Los Angeles Times building and the 2009 Modern LAPD Police Headquarters standing in contrast across the street from each other. Together they create a feeling of an area that somehow stands outside of time, a feeling that will extend into my next adventure – Pershing Square.

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