Dia de los Muertos at Hollywood Forever Cemetery!!

Yesterday, we did the coolest, most quintessentially-LA thing I’ve ever done. More diverse than a Dodger game. More physically impressive than the Hollywood Bowl. More interesting than the Rose Parade. We went to the Day of the Dead (or Dia de los Muertos) celebration at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

First, some background . . . Hollywood Forever Cemetery (HFC) was established in 1899 as Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery and from the 1930s to the 1990s was run by a downright dastardly character who (after serving time in prison for securities-related fraud in the 1920s) basically took the money that was supposed to be held in trust for upkeep and squandered on stuff like a yacht for himself and his wife to tool around the 1960s in. By the 1980s, the State of California was on to him (way to be on top of things, California!) and barred the sale of plots. By the 1990s, the owner had died and the place was in receivership.

Enter a couple of Brad Pitt-looking brothers (check one of my photos for a fleeting glimpse of Tyler Cassity in his tux and calaveras-painted face) from a Midwestern mortuary family, who bought the place in 1998 for a mere $375,000. Of course, they had to sink literally millions of dollars into the property, just to remedy what had become a horrible state of affairs: the huge cemetery, located adjacent to Paramount Studios on Melrose and Santa Monica Boulevards, was riddled with broken/vandalized tombstones, earthquake damaged crypts, and dried up/cracked fountains. No amount of barbed wire was keeping the bad guys out of what had become a favorite hangout for hooligans of all sorts in the run-down section of Hollywood.

Long story short: the Brothers Cassity have not only cleaned the place up, but they’ve turned it into a model of what the 21^st century may look like for cemeteries, full of video display terminals playing short movies about the deceased found nearby. Many famous people are buried here, particularly old-time movie folks (most famously, Rudolph Valentino).

But the very best part is that they invite the community into the now-gorgeous grounds by having programming that is surprisingly cool. In the summertime, they do a movie series called Cinespia that is sort of like a drive-in movie except that people bring picnics and sit on the lawn while movies are projected onto the wall of a crypt. Often they will show old movies starring actors who are actually interred right there- so cool!





The greatest day ever, though, is the one night per year they open the place up for the Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead for my non-Angeleno readers) celebration. The Day of the Dead is a Mexican celebration that takes place coincident with All Saints and All Souls day (November 1^st and 2^nd). It is the annual remembrance of the near and dearly departed, when offerings are made to the deceased. Traditionally this may take the shape of a favorite candy, bright orange marigolds, sugar candy skulls, and even spirits like tequila. Such a cool way to remember people, and so incredibly festive. HFC organized a contest for the best-decorated “altars,” so there were probably 100 of these thoughtful and fascinating displays. [Some of John's photos are here.]

The thing that surprised me the most about the Day of the Dead party at HFC was that it sounded like a recipe for disaster: Invite thousands of people in to a cemetery in a rough part of town, charge a mere $10, have alcohol available, provide great live music, encourage people to dress up like skeletons and other creepiness, and do it all basically in the dark. I was more than a little concerned about bringing the babies (dressed in glow-in-the-dark skeleton costumes, thank you), but the crowd (and I do mean crowd) was downright nice.

Tons of families and not a ne’er-do-well to be found. I cannot think of a time when I’ve seen a more diverse group of people: blue-haired old ladies, handsome gay men, hipsters of every stripe, Latino families, skinny people, fat people, boring people (us), cool people (dressed up). The funniest thing was that, even with the spectacle of all this craziness and so much visual overload of incongruous images, people noticed the boys non-stop!

After many hours, we sadly departed the celebration, just as I was starting to mentally process the totally surreal thing I had just experienced, LA again threw me for a loop when we were walking back to the car, past a marquis at Paramount Studios announcing we were passing the studio for . . . the Dr. Phil Show. Only in LA!

Amazing new LAPD Headquarters Dedicated

Yesterday I trekked Downtown to be part of a historic day in Los Angeles’ history: the opening of the LAPD’s new $437 million command center. The generically named Police Administration Building is a stunner: L-shaped and sited in a way that makes it feel warm and embracing.

At the pedestrian level, the grounds are full of goodies:

Facing the adjacent Old Bank District residential neighborhood sits a one-acre grass park with an alley of grand palm trees leading toward the iconic Art Deco Los Angeles Times building; with the decommissioned St. Vibiana’s Cathedral standing sentinel, the Main Street side has a raised area with an artistically-inspired metal sculpture installation made of plates bearing the names of over 200 fallen LAPD officers (sadly, a list with lots of room to grow); the First Street side facing City Hall is a wall of glass, reflecting our amazing City Hall and reminding the police department that it serves, and is overseen by, the people of the City of Los Angeles.

The Spring Street side is home to eight large metal sculptures that immediately attracted controversy because they sort of look like . . . cow dung? Or maybe headless/handless/footless people curled up in a ball? After being tazed? I think they are perfectly appropriate, and that art is supposed to get people talking (mission accomplished, since there’s been a lot of TV and radio coverage of the sculptures). They also seemed like they might serve the dual-purpose of stopping a car bomb, so, bonus points for that! But outgoing Chief Bratton really, really hates them and hasn’t been shy about calling them “cow splat” and stating that the plan is to cover them up with flowers and shrubbery. We’ll get used to them.

A highlight of the morning was the unfurling of a massive American flag, after which time, members of the SWAT team rappelled down the face of the building. Great theatrics but problematic in that the exercise seemed to leave black boot marks (not visible in the photo) behind on the dramatic, pristine wall face. Wondering how the custodial staff is going to tackle those stains!



















I was confused to see these LAPD detectives standing at a table full of goodies that caught my retail eye. It looked just like NYC, where all the good Midwestern tourists go to SoHo to buy knock-off purses. Was this some sort of weird LAPD Bake Sale fundraiser or something? I was really confused. DUH! It's a table full of seized counterfeit goods!

That is Chief Bratton in the CompStat room. CompStat stands for Computer Statistics and was first used in 1994 by the NYPD. It uses GIS maps to plot out crimes and make a visual representation of trouble areas. Once those areas are identified at monthly meetings of top departmental staff, resources are deployed in a strategic and targeted manner to try and suppress crime by attacking the hot spots. CompStat is a management philosophy that is based on accountability (of the Commanders in each precinct, or geographic area) and is widely credited with helping bring NYC back from the brink of Chaos in the Streets in the 1990s.

LA Weather Girls

Did I get your attention? Did you think this blog had taken a surprising turn for the smutty? Yes, it did. But only in pursuit of academic scrutiny of a phenomenon that seems to have expanded since I left Los Angeles four years ago: the ridiculously skanky local TV news girl.

Now, I know I have Binghamton-goggles on, since the weather and news people in upstate NY were not even "easy on the eyes," much less smoking-hot. But seriously, the women I see on TV in LA look like blow-up dolls! And their clothing seems totally inappropriate for a business setting. How come the (mostly old) guys get to wear suits?

Where are the normal looking women, wearing blazers to inspire respect and not attract inappropriate attention to their physicality? Apparently they are all about the messenger, and not the message, these days. But before I dismiss these women as all-boobs and no-brains, let's inspect a bio . . .


SHARON TAY: This gal's LA CBS-affiliate bio says she is a "five-time award-winning television news journalist." The lack-of-specificity raises questions: which awards did she win? If they were Emmys, wouldn't the bio say so? Something tells me that at least one of her "awards" was something akin to making FHM's "Hot 100" or something. Which brings us to . . .

ELITA LORESCA: This chick really takes the cake. Her boobs are just . . . indescribably huge. LA is known for having no "weather" to actually report, so I guess it is perfect that there are such distractions on the screen, because it's not like you are missing anything if you aren't catching that it's going to dip to 72 degrees by Friday. Elita was voted "Sexiest newscaster" by FHM magazine. Elita's bio indicates that she earned a Certificate of Broadcast Meteorology from Mississippi State University. I could be totally wrong, and MSU could be the Harvard of TV weather or something, but last time I checked a "certificate" is more something you get in "nail technology" and not exactly a heavy academic degree. Just sayin'.

Speaking of MSU, let's go to . . .

VERA JIMENEZ: In her defense, I couldn't readily find any quasi-porn photos of her online, like the other two ladies. But her bio is just so . . . flimsy. We learn that she graduated with her AA degree (certificate?) from Santa Ana Community College, but earned her BA in Religious Studies (perhaps explaining the lack of availability of near-naked photos of her?). But this is the kicker: she is in the process of earning the all-powerful Meteorology Certificate (is that what they issue to speeding comets or something?) from Mississippi State University. And clearly it will be earned via correspondence, right?

Come on, Vera, you seem sweet and are so darn cute that I would even entertain the possibility that your not-found-in-nature tiny lower body and gigantic upper body might actually be a naturally occurring phenomenon. But your online bio is awful. Examples: you say that your "dream interview" is with "anyone dead." Can't you give me some more meat? I mean, on your resume, that is? Check out the smart and properly-attired LA news anchor, whose bio actually specifies which professional awards she has won.

I know, I know, all of this makes me sound like a terribly catty, ugly woman. But come on, people, seriously. The local news affiliates' decisions to put these scantily-dressed, unnaturally-buxom women on TV is really sort of disturbing.

And I know I also sound old, but when I was growing up in LA, THIS was what we had to look at: Dr. George Fischbeck!!

LA-isms

When we lived in upstate New York, we used to giggle at the local accent. It tended to be a really nasal way of talking, with hard vowels, such that "Italian" sounded like "eye-TAL-ian." Or, "Lemme have a HEE-am SEEN-wich." But the most distinctive, and random, thing was that some of the locals put the accent in weird places on a handful of words. Like this: the standard "eleMENtary" became "elemenTARy," "docuMENtary" became "documenTARy," etc.

We always giggled when one of these words popped out of the local newscaster's mouth with the weird accent on the fourth syllable, but I knew I had no business mocking anyone because my LA accent/slang was certainly far worse. I tried to banish "dude" from my vocabulary, but, duuuuude, it is such a fun word with which to pepper ones sentences! My favorite was when I'd catch one of my Binghamton friends starting to say it. See, it's infectious! And harmless. Same goes for my liberal use of "awesome," "sweet," "rad," and even the occasional "gnarly," I gotta admit.

At least I avoided some of the most egregious forms of LA slang: not long after I returned home, I was sitting on the Strand in Hermosa Beach when a shoeless dude slinked by on his beach cruiser. "What up, bro?" was the greeting he offered to some shirtless volleyball players.

WHAT UP?

OMG that is soooooo much worse than anything elemenTARy. My apologies to upstate New York!

LA Freeway Jargon: "Sigalert"

I am trying to be even-handed and look at Los Angeles, my hometown, with the same curious scrutiny that I applied to my adopted home of Binghamton, New York. So there is a term Angelenos constantly hear on the TV and radio but probably don't know what it means: Sigalert.


Sure, we Angelenos know that it means "traffic" and "headache" and "goddamn it I'm going to be late again." But what is the definition?

Wikipedia, a.k.a. my best friend, is saving me a lot of research on this one. It tells me that a Sigalert means "any unplanned event that causes the closing of one lane of traffic for 30 minutes or more."

Apparently it started in Los Angeles in the 1950s with a former military communications guy named Lloyd Sigmon. After WWII, he became a VP of an LA radio station and invented a device, adopted by the LAPD in 1955, that somehow alerted radio stations to bad traffic conditions. This "push" technology saved the radio stations calling the LAPD about traffic conditions and tying up police phone lines. But the LAPD would only use the technology if it were open to all radio stations. The special receivers were stamped with "Sigalert" on the side and had a red light and buzzer that would alert the radio station engineer when a traffic alert had been put out by the LAPD.

In 1969, the California Highway Patrol took control of freeway traffic from LAPD, and the Sigalert system was eventually adopted statewide.

Apparently, though, CalTrans defines the term differently (ugh), expanded the definition to mean any traffic accident that will tie up two or more lanes for two or more hours. Inflation, I guess!

Halloween Costumes for Babies

With two to-be-seven-month-old identical twin babies, the pressure is really on. What to be for Halloween? Adding to the pressure is the fact that I realize that this may be the only year where we get full control over how they will look. By next year, they will likely have something called an "opinion" and then it's game-over.

With that in mind, I figured we should go for something really ridiculously awful, right? We've got two lifetimes for the boring "pirate" and "football player" outfits. Now is the time for "Christmas Tree" or "Slice of Pizza" or THIS one, my favorite- the "about to be boiled" lobster!! Solves the problem of how you will transport the little guy around all evening, which becomes a problem when your baby isn't yet self-propelled.

Also a challenge is the identical-twins part. Ideally, I'd like to capitalize on this and make the costumes go together. Although I entertained the thought of sewing together a couple of onesies and doing "Conjoined Twins," I decided this was impractical because how would we transport them around? Also considered: Bacon & Eggs, Starsky & Hutch, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Matter & Anti-Matter, Gorilla & Banana.

And then I struck upon the perfect combo: Whoopie Cushion and Car Air Freshener!!


Seriously, who thinks of these things? How random is "car air freshener" for an adult, much less for a baby? What do babies and car air fresheners have to do with each other? Or whoopie cushions, for that matter?

I thought this was the perfect tasteless combo, until John pointed out the fact that neither of these costumes will work unless we carry the boys around the entire time. And with twins and not knowing if I'll be solo at whatever event we go to, this is not an option. Sooooo, back to the drawing board.

At my beloved Target, I found a disappointing collection of uninspired costumes. The same old, same old "pumpkin" and "butterfly" stuff. The pea pod could be cute, right? for twins? "two peas in a pod"? But no, still too boring.

We shall see. We've still got a few weeks to figure it out. And last minute, homemade costumes tend to be my most creative. Wish me luck!

Filming Downtown L.A.

Sometimes I think that Downtown Los Angeles is one giant film set. Over the past several decades, the big movie production houses have sold off their back lots and now seem to use real world environs. Walking around Downtown, one often finds really odd things left over from old film shoots. My favorite was a restaurant store front on the edge of Skid Row that read "Burgers 'n Shit."

Really, you can't paint over that stuff once you are finished with the one-day shoot you did here? The neighborhood (Fourth & Main Streets) has to look at it for months?

Here is what I saw when I was Downtown a couple days ago. I think Fourth/Main must be the most-filmed-intersection of the most-filmed-neighborhood on Earth. Literally!

The Next Generation of "Skid Row Housing"

This week I attended a panel discussion by Skid Row Housing Trust (SRHT), the United Way, and four well-known architects who have designed permanent supportive housing projects for SRHT. About a hundred people gathered in the basement auditorium of the amazing Walt Disney Concert Hall to hear about the latest and greatest projects being designed as permanent living quarters for some of LA's most down and out residents. One of the projects, in particular, was so eye-popping that I had to dig deeper.

First, some background: The mission of SRHT, which is celebrating 20 years of existence, has been to take existing run-down "single room occupancy" or SRO hotels, rehab them, and provide on-site services (mental health, job training, etc.) to formerly homeless individuals. Their geographic focus has been the 50-block downtown LA Skid Row area. They do great work and their properties stand out as among the most beautiful and best-run in the neighborhood.

But it seems that the available stock of appropriate SRO hotels, which were built around the turn of the last century as dorm-style living (i.e., tiny rooms and bathroom-down-the-hall set-up), had been mostly picked-over, and in recent years they have started doing ground-up/new construction projects. But who knew they would be willing to take architectural risks? Their newest project, set to open in November, is called the The New Carver.



Readers who know me will not be surprised to learn that I went to the site the day after learning of it at the panel discussion, and talked my way into the construction zone. The neighborhood is dominated by California Hospital, and the street is actually very quiet because it is essentially a cul-de-sac.

The New Carver sits on an undesirable piece of land at Hope Street and 17th in Downtown's South Park neighborhood, near the Staples Center, but also abutting the 10 Freeway. And when I say "abutting," I mean the structure comes within feet of the raised interstate and all the zillion cars that pass each day. In order to minimize the building's frontage to the freeway, the architect had the genius idea to make the building round (a circular saw-tooth footprint, actually), with a courtyard in the middle. The design is essentially a five-story motel, but wrapped into a circle.

The best part, though, is that this project can show those thousands of cars that pass by on the 10 fwy each day what "affordable housing" can mean. This is not a half-way house, a "homeless shelter," nor "the Projects" of the NIMBY's fears. This is a well-run and uber-attractive project that happens to be doing a ton of good for the people who call it home. This Wall Street Journal article describes good architecture as a "wedge" in the fight to get neighborhoods to accept these kinds of projects, and I think the New Carver Apartments hit a home run.






The aluminum fins that encircle the five story courtyard not only create a powerful visual, they are functional, as well. Some act as drainage, some as ventilation, etc. They also act as a partial visual screen, so that residents have a bit of privacy when coming in and out of their units.

A minimal number of the 89 units will be freeway-close. Instead, the architect put some of the communal spaces- TV lounge, community room, etc.- at eye level to the freeway. Imagine the curiosity of commuters stuck in traffic, looking in at the New Carver. They will think it's Downtown LA's latest hot condo/loft project!

Mommy and Me

I finally tried out one of these "Mommy and Me" classes, at the invitation of a very nice woman I met last week. I had been meaning to try out one of these things but they honestly sounded pretty awful: a bunch of stay-at-home moms and their little darlings, sitting around in a circle, singing songs, and clapping and stuff. But the woman who invited me to the class at the local library was very nice, so I went to talk further with her.

So how was the class? I WANTED TO TEAR MY FREAKING EYES OUT. It was held in a mini-auditorium style room in the library, full of carpeted risers for kid-sitting. There were about 8 kids, mostly under age 2, and their moms. At some point, an overweight faux-librarian lady came in (I refuse to believe she was an actual librarian, because those people always seem pretty sharp), bearing an oversized Raggedy Andy doll which became her alter ego.

The only redeeming quality of the Mommy and Me class was that it was short: the singing/clapping part was only about 15 minutes of torture. The other saving grace was that, because I have two babies, I had held one and had an excuse not to clap. Really, "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" was mildly entertaining when I was five, but I just can't stomach it as an adult. Ditto for "The Kookaburra Song." I know, I know: one day soon, I will be thankful that some lady wants to entertain my children for 15 minutes for free, but really, do I have to endure it, too?

So, to cleanse my mommy palate, we did a "Mommy and Me" class with just one Mommy: Me! This "class" consisted of taking the babies to Downtown LA, where we started out in Pershing Square.


Later on, we found ourselves taking a stroll . . . around the Arts District. Which is really a warehouse district full of desolate streets and tons of great graffiti art.


I know I looked a little ridiculous, pushing the double stroller around the edgy/grimy/hipster neighborhood, but it was just what I needed. A dose of urbanity to counteract the mind-numbing Mommy class on Monday. Besides, the boys need to learn about the world, right?

Different town, same jackasses

When we lived in Binghamton, NY, our neighbor across the street was a real piece of work: loud-mouthed, beer-drinking, power-tool-blaring guy who apparently loved the Yankees. He loved the Yankees so much that he had this ridiculous sign prominently displayed on his garage door that said "Yankee Fans Only." I meant to blog about it back then, but could never get close enough to the house to take a photo of the sign, particularly since the guy seemed to constantly be standing in his front yard, smoking, using his myriad mind-blowingly-loud power tools, and/or generally yelling greetings to all the other neighbors.

So I had to laugh- hard- when we returned to our beloved Los Angeles and were greeted by this sign on my mother-in-law's street: "Ferrari Parking Only"! This sign, though, adds the extra-obnoxious wording, "All others will be scrapped." Yeah, because you'd definitely be too embarrassed to have, say, a Mercedes parked there. Scrap it!



Same jackass neighbor, apparently, but with fancier cars. I don't even know if he has a Ferrari. Maybe he just parks his other cars in such a way that it appears he's always waiting for the Ferrari to come home? Or maybe he thinks that if he puts up the sign, his wife will get the hint and buy him one for Christmas? Angelenos and their cars-that-cost-more-than-the-average-house in the rest of America. Too ridiculous.

Bingo!! Hawaiian Gardens-style

Did you ever wonder, What's the deal with Bingo in California these days??? Probably not, I'm guessing. Unless you are a huge dork like me. That's what I'm here for, folks, to answer the questions you are afraid to ask.

Here's an interesting bit of bingo-trivia: there is a place in Hawaiian Gardens (at less than one-mile-square, it's the smallest of Los Angeles County's 88 cities) called The Bingo Club that actually rakes in about $30 million each year. You thought bingo was for churches? You are right. California law mandates that only non-profits can run bingo games, and are required to give the bulk of the money (after prizes are paid out) to charitable causes. But when you gross $30 million, the "leftovers" are about $5 million per year!

This bingo parlor is run by the non-profit Irving I. Moskowitz Foundation. Good ol' Irv is a retired dentist living in Florida, but he uses the bingo revenues to fund his pet projects, which most notably includes buying up land in Israel and establishing settlements on contested land. For various reasons, he is not so popular with various constituencies. And he attracts a fair amount of press coverage for the, uhm, creative way in which he's able to take $1 at a time from old people in an obscure little city in LA and funnel it across the world to fuel an international conflagration.

So, do you have an image of a bingo hall as a sad hall full of rows of tables and cheap plastic chairs, occasionally filled with old people who look like they are disabled or at least live on a fixed income?

BINGO! You nailed it. Although the new facility is a vast improvement over the cramped strip mall location it used until late 2008, the demographic at the Bingo Club in Hawaiian Gardens is about what I expected. Only fatter.

Welcome to Los Angeles! (Just try not to touch anything)

In an effort to promote positive first-impressions for visiting cruise goers, the City of Los Angeles built a very attractive new gateway, adjacent to the parking lot where the massive cruise ships come in, at the base of the Vincent Thomas Bridge in San Pedro.

The new park is about 1/4 mile long and runs the length of the parking area for the cruise ships. It includes lots of palm trees and fancy benches, as well as a really beautiful water feature. I mean, this water feature ROCKS. There is a sound/light show every 20 minutes and water shoots 50 feet in the air while bold classical music plays.

At night, the cool factor is magnified by amazing lighting.


But as we walked the length of the ribbon-park, which includes fancy chess-board-topped granite tables and benches, I started to get mad: this was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, yet we were almost the only ones in the park. Perhaps it was the fact that, when you are actually in the park, you look through a barbwire-topped, chain-link fence at a sea of a parking lot. Having just moved back from NY, where parks are packed and thrive, this just seemed like such an LA-park: $14 million spent on a space that is beautiful to look at but will never be used!

Confirming my gut-feeling that this park was meant to be seen-but-not-touched were at least a dozen of the most awful, sloppy-looking sandwich board signs, warning park users (yes, all three of us) not to dare go in the water, under threat of the fountain turning off! How insulting. And random? Why would I want to swim in an 8-inch-deep fountain, with all sorts of metal hardware sticking up in it?