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…

Metro Series - Union Station

Staring out the window of the Orange line watching the vaguely familiar buildings pass by as it makes its way toward North Hollywood I feel something that I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever, in Los Angeles. I feel like a tourist. For perhaps the first time in the thirteen years that I have called Los Angeles home, I feel like a visitor to the city and I kind of like it. I’ve often wondered how I would plan for a visit to LA, how I would overcome the sheer size of the city knowing that even as a long time resident I’m still somewhat intimidated by the Herculean task of navigating around the city, especially in rush “hour” when the traffic maps are all but devoid of green and the quickest route is not necessarily the most direct one. Shortly after I start to ponder this question I usually thank the heavens that I don’t have to plan a trip here and go about my business. But why not? Why not attack Los Angeles like I would New York, London, or Tokyo? Why not start thinking of the city in terms of where the subway will take me? Sure the rail lines are far from comprehensive and to get anywhere you basically have to route through downtown, but the same thing that limits the Metro – the massive sprawl of the city – should also work to its advantage. With size comes diversity and there must be something interesting to see at every stop.

From North Hollywood I grab the Red line for the 30 minute trip to Union Station, the center of rail transport in Los Angeles and the last of the great American railway stations. Opened in 1939, its combination of Spanish Colonial and Art Deco styles are likely recognizable to many who have never walked through its doors, having served as a backdrop for many films and television shows through the years – the most memorable to me being its role as the police station in Blade Runner.

An iconic fixture of Los Angeles, its designers were also responsible for several other notable and instantly recognizable LA landmarks, City Hall and the LA Memorial Coliseum among them. Deserving of its place on the National Register of Historic Buildings, the station itself is worth a visit and I have to pause to take a couple of shots, though this is not what brought me down here today.

Out the front doors of Union Station and directly across Alameda stands the reason for my trip – El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historical Monument. I have passed through here several times before, but usually only on my way to Chinatown, which is a short walk from the station, and a trip for another day. Until today I had never ventured here for the sake of seeing what the monument had to offer nor, to be honest, even realized that the area was an historical monument. On September 4, 1781 near the site of the present day plaza, eleven families of various cultural backgrounds settled the first non-native civilian settlement in southern California. This is where Los Angeles began. 44 people recruited by Spain from northern Mexico laid roots in a town whose original borders spread from present day Hoover Street to Indiana Street and began what would become the second largest city in the United States. Standing here in the midst of this city of 3.8 million people covering 498 square miles, it is next to impossible to imagine that starting with only 44 people. With the massive sprawl that has consumed the area, it is mind boggling to think of being able to stand on one edge of the city and being able to see the other side. The names of each one of those 44 inhabitants are now commemorated together on a large plaque within the plaza as well as on individual family plaques, which circle the outer ring of the plaza.

Walking around, reading each name, one wonders how many families have remained in the area over the ensuing 220 years, how many people in Los Angeles today can trace their ancestry back to those first eleven families.

Reaching out from the plaza to the northeast is Olvera Street and likely what draws the most people to the area. While the history of the street stretches back to 1877 when a short lane known as Wine Street was extended and renamed in honor of a prominent judge, the street in its current incarnation came to be in 1930 when through the efforts of Christine Sterling it was blocked off to traffic and transformed into a tourist destination meant to evoke a Mexican marketplace. Walking through this short street today – really no more than an alley – one is hit with a sensory overload.

Crammed to the gills with shops and stalls selling everything from colorful handcrafted Mexican goods to inexpensive lucha libre masks and ukuleles, the smell of the copious amount of leather goods envelopes the visitor as they enter. Adding to the bouquet, restaurants are littered throughout the alley offering “traditional” Mexican cuisine (although LA is not hurting for spots where one can find more authentic Mexican food). On weekends strolling musicians and music from the plaza add another layer to the sensory tapestry. Today traditional Native American instruments provide a soundtrack that sounds tip of the tongue familiar. Pondering the song I realize that what I’m hearing is Chiquitita by ABBA, a somehow fitting representation of modern Los Angeles – indigenous instruments playing a song with a vaguely Spanish title, written by northern Europeans.

Roughly one third of the way down Olvera lays the Avila Adobe, the oldest extant residence in Los Angeles. Originally built in 1818 by the Avila family who were affluent ranchers in the area, the home passed through many hands in the ensuing years, gradually falling into disrepair. By 1928 the Adobe had been condemned by the city and was on the verge of being demolished. Christine Sterling championed for the home to be saved and restored and it was in fact the Avila Adobe restoration that prompted the creation of modern Olvera Street, as she understood that without the surrounding area being revitalized, restoration of the adobe would merely postpone the inevitable. It now stands as an historical recreation, “furnished as it might have been during the days when the Avilas were there.”

I am particularly fond of these recreations, which often take me back to the road trips of my youth as the family explored the Southwest, but found this one to fairly basic and in some places rather stark. While it was an interesting walkthrough, there was little there that kept me truly enthralled and several of their interpretive signs had so much wear that they couldn’t be read. Housed within the grounds of the adobe are two other exhibits – Water in Los Angeles, which traces the development of the Los Angeles water supply, and A Tribute to Christine Sterling – though neither exhibit was accessible on the day I was there. There is also a short interpretive film detailing the history of the area that is played periodically through the day. Though lacking great depth, it is an interesting diversion and hard to argue with the historical interest of the oldest house in Los Angeles. While admission is free, donations are gladly accepted and would no doubt help to restore the wear and tear the site has received.

Northwest of the Plaza, across Main Street, is La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Angeles, or Our Lady of Angels Church, a mission style church that holds the distinction of being the oldest church in the city (I may be noticing a pattern here). On this spot in 1784 a sub-mission was built to serve the religious needs of the Pueblo but was eventually abandoned as the Pueblo grew in size. A new church was built on the site between 1814 and 1822 and once again rebuilt in 1861. It is this church which stands today, now serving as the parish church for the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Not a mission itself, the church does share some characteristics of the California Missions – the solid buttressed walls, the broad undecorated wall surfaces, the bell wall, and the fountain patio – which in this case resides in a courtyard which also houses food vendors, only one of which was active when I was there. Stepping inside I am hit with the unmistakable scent of the church candles as dozens of sense memories instantly take me back to any number of churches and cathedrals I’ve visited in the past. The smell of burning wax and I am in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin. Smoke from an extinguished wick whisks me the mission churches in New Mexico. The underlying mask of incense and I’m at Christmas mass as a child. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a regular churchgoer but all those moments are pulled together here and I am moved to a moment of quiet introspection. Removing my hat I take a seat in one of the pews and reflect on not just this space but life in general, amazed at how quiet a church can be. I can hear little more than the shuffling of feet and the near silent murmurs of the devoted though hardly removed from the hustle and bustle of the city.

I gradually return my attention to the church itself. It is a modest sanctuary, active and functional. I think its appeal is more for the history of the location than the church itself. A map of the monument shows that the city’s first cemetery, Campo Santo, once stood next to the church. All that can be found there now is a large construction zone – the future home of a Mexican-American cultural center.

Continuing around, LA’s first firehouse stands southwest of the plaza. Completed in 1884 the Plaza Firehouse’s tenure as such was brief, ending in 1892 after which it was used as a saloon, a lodging house, and a store. Restored to its firehouse state in 1960 it became a small museum showcasing the history of firefighting in Los Angeles and housing firefighting memorabilia dating back to the 19th century. While interesting to see some of the old equipment, I ultimately found the museum to be a fairly quick walkthrough and probably spent no more than 10 minutes there, though it undoubtedly holds greater interest for those whose passion lies in the history of firefighting. The one thing that I did learn was that the aptly named Chief Walter Lips was the first Los Angeles fire chief to proudly display his lips - being clean shaven while all six of his predecessors were bearded or mustached. I’m sure the museum would be glad to know I picked up on this.

Having been steeped in the Hispanic heritage of the monument to this point, it was interesting to find that perhaps the most engaging attraction for me was the Chinese-American Museum on North Los Angeles Street - although the entrance lies in the rear of the building. Seemingly out of place, the area around the monument was actually the original Chinatown before Union Station displaced it in 1939. The rest of Chinatown having been razed, the Garnier building, which houses the museum, is the only surviving structure from this original incarnation. Opened in 2003, the museum tells the story of Chinese-American life and the difficulty of making their way to and in a new country. A large portion of the current exhibit deals with their passage through Angel Island in San Francisco (the west coast version of Ellis Island) and the paper sons and daughters – the practice of established immigrants claiming unrelated children as their own in order to help them immigrate during a period of severe anti-Chinese laws. A compelling story of their journey is told through the use of historical artifacts and accounts from the surviving ancestors of those early immigrants. The upper levels of the museum offer temporary exhibit space, which when I was there was an exhibit titled Dreams Deferred – Artists Respond to Immigration Reform, artistic representations of the current state of immigration. I spent a good deal of time walking through the museum, which piqued my curiosity and made me want to learn more. There are some activities for children as well, though it seemed far from a comprehensive children’s experience. Definitely worth the three-dollar suggested donation and I look forward to future exhibits.

There are other historical buildings dotting the area around the plaza – the Merced Theatre, the Pico House, and the Sepulveda House to name a few – all of which have interpretive signs and plaques placed along the sidewalks and the buildings themselves to help paint a picture of the early days around the plaza. I believe that there is normally a Visitor Center in the Sepulveda house but it appeared to be closed for construction with signs warning of no floor. There also seem to be plans to convert the Italian Hall, which is located at the corner of Main and Cesar Chavez, into the Italian Hall museum. But the places I have visited today are the main locations that you can interact with and as such bring my day of tourism to an end with the thrill of discovery of this city I call home awakened. I look forward to further exploration, to seeing the city like I would if I were but a brief visitor, to soaking up Los Angeles both on and off the beaten track…as long as the Metro will take me there.

Click on photos for larger views.

For more photos, visit my flickr page…

For more information on the LA Conservancy walking tours,
visit their website…

For more information on the buildings found in El Pueblo,
visit the Olvera Street website…