"Seventh Street in downtown Los Angeles is a dynamic corridor with an exciting history. The street spans four commercial districts (Financial, Jewelry, Theatre, and Fashion), grew very quickly along with the rest of the city center, and has remained highly intact for more than a century.
"Located nearly a mile south of the original pueblo, the area that is now Seventh Street was once agricultural land on the outskirts of Los Angeles. With the arrival of the Southern Pacific Railroad in 1876, the city's population exploded, and the rural fields began to give way to residences.
"As the city's commercial center continued to expand, Seventh evolved from residential to commercial use. The street's first major commercial building, the eight-story Lankershim Hotel, opened in 1905 at Seventh and Broadway (it was demolished in the early 1990s).
"In 1906, John Bullock opened his flagship department store at the corner of Seventh and Broadway. Bullock's paved the way for Seventh Street to develop into an upscale shopping street distinct from the bustling retail on Broadway..."
So goes the first part of the intro to the program for Strolling on Seventh Street: Downtown's Historic Thoroughfare, a walking tour put on this afternoon by the nonprofit Los Angeles Conservancy.
I've been a member of the Conservancy for two and half years, and until today, I'd never gone on any of their walking tours. The only Conservancy program I attend regularly is the Last Remaining Seats movie series. I blog about it right here every spring. For six Wednesdays from May through June, the Conservancy screens classic films in those beautifully restored theaters downtown on Broadway: The Million Dollar, the Los Angeles, and the Orpheum. Last Remaining Seats is part of Bringing Back Broadway, a Conservancy initiative to revitalize the Broadway corridor that'll take several more years to complete. By the time it's done, among other improvements and enhancements, Broadway will have a streetcar like it used to, and hopefully those nine or so other movie palaces will have been restored.
The Conservancy has a regular schedule of walking tours. Some are weekly, some are biweekly, others are monthly. And now and again, like today, they'll put on a special one-time-only walking tour. Reading their newsletters as I do, I'm always aware of their walking tours, and I always tell myself I should go on one. After two and a half years, I'm happy to say I've finally done it.
This was an awesome one to choose as my first Conservancy walking tour, for a few reasons. First, the weather couldn't've been better. Yes, I know it's LA, but you never know during late fall and winter. We don't get much rain, but when we do, November to March is when it happens. Not today, though. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and it wasn't too hot. What also made the tour awesome was its depth and breadth of subject matter. As you read in my quote from the program, this tour stretched back to nearly the beginning of the pueblo of Los Angeles and how the evolution of Seventh Street was impacted by and in turn impacted the pueblo's, and eventually the city's, evolution. Indeed, this tour was so big that the Conservancy needed a bunch of volunteer docents to share the workload, at least one docent per landmark. Those smaller, regularly scheduled walking tours, in stark contrast, only require one docent. Speaking of landmarks, another reason this was a great first walking tour was the great architecture. While you've got a bunch of different styles downtown, the predominant style on Seventh Street is Beaux Arts, a formal style adapted from ancient Greece and Rome. As a huge fan of antiquity, which you might've noticed in my recent post from the Getty Villa about art and performance in ancient Greece, I can definitely appreciate any type of architecture informed by the eras of Sophocles and Pliny. So this was super. What's better, it didn't eat up the whole day, but it did allow me to eat at Clifton's Cafeteria, a downtown staple I've always wanted to try.
Broadway Plaza (Macy's Plaza)
700 W. Seventh Street
Charles Luckman Associates (1973)
"Covering an entire city block, the Broadway Plaza includes a twenty-three-story hotel, a thirty-two-story office tower, and an eight-story brick-clad department store/parking structure, linked by a two-level atrium shopping plaza. Charles Luckman served as both the architect and developer of the project, an unusual arrangement at the time. The hotel originally featured a revolving restaurant named Angel's Flight with 360-degree views of downtown."
What the program doesn't say is that Charles Luckman's the guy behind Kennedy Space Center, Madison Square Garden, and The Forum. The reason this used to be called Broadway Plaza is because the flagship department store used to be the Broadway department store. Basically, whichever department store occupies that coveted space on the ground floor gets to use their name for the entire property, and so far Broadway and Macy's are the only two who've had that privilege. In fact, the only reason Macy's got it is because they bought out the Broadway company in the mid nineties.
The first docent took us around the first two levels, which feature establishments you know and love. You've got Macy's, of course, as well as Radio Shack, T-Mobile, Bath and Body Works, Bally Total Fitness, Victoria's Secret, as well as a post office, which I'm guessing is very convenient for the folks who live and work in this neighborhood. The lobby's also got a huge space for seasonal events and live entertainment.
From there we took the elevator to the very top, to a huge circular space called the Polaris Room, where another docent showed us around. This space was originally used for the Angel's Flight restaurant quoted above from the program. Now it's used for private events. While Charles Luckman designed Macy's Plaza proper, this particular panoramic space was designed by someone else. I forget the guy's name, but it's the same guy who designed the awesome BonaVista Lounge atop the Westin Bonaventure Hotel just a couple blocks up and over on Fifth and Figueroa. I love that place. It's a circular cocktail lounge that rotates one revolution per hour. The views are awesome, including a view of the Music Center a few blocks to the north. Unfortunately the Polaris Room doesn't rotate, although it used to when it was still Angel's Flight. The docent said the rotating floor was taken away in the late nineties. Apparently the guy who made this and the BonaVista loved rotating restaurants with awesome views so much, he designed yet a third one at the University of South Carolina. It's called The Top of Carolina, and it sits atop the Capstone House, one of the dorm buildings. It still rotates today and is no doubt popular with the students as it provides them great views of downtown Columbia. If I needed a reason to add South Carolina to my bucket list, now I have one.
Roosevelt Building (The Roosevelt)
727 W. Seventh Street
Curlett and Beelman (1927)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #355
National Register of Historic Places
"This massive Renaissance Revival building was purported to be the largest office building in Southern California when it opened. Architects Curlett and Beelman were prolific downtown practitioners, designing six buildings on Seventh Street alone. In 2008, the Roosevelt underwent conversion to 222 residential units, restoring the original entry lobby with its spectacular mosaic marble floors."
Now this was cool, an old historic building that's been converted into a building full of very modern, and very expensive, apartments. The docent said this was built back in the day when buildings were often named after presidents. This would have been named after Teddy since his cousin Franklin didn't arrive in the White House until six years after this was built. While the apartments looked great and the overall restoration was very well done, I have to say they looked a wee small for three grand a month. On the plus side, they do come with a dishwasher, washer, and dryer. And I loved how the space was maximized, like how the appliances were kept in cabinets for example. As you'd expect, the views were especially great from the higher up units.
As neat and modern as the apartments were, nothing beat that aqua massage machine in the fourth floor recreation area. I guess rec area is the best way to describe it. It's also sort of an oasis. The central space when you walk in features a flat stretch of fake grass adorned here and there with shiny, polished stones big and flat enough to sit on. Covering the opposite wall was this huge mural depicting a waterfall in paradise. Meantime, you've got little rooms off to the sides. One door leads to locker rooms and showers and restrooms. Another leads to a gym with very modern equipment and wall-mounted flatscreen TVs. And finally, in a small room all its own, was the very awesome and very blue aqua massage machine. What's an aqua massage machine, you ask? It's pretty much what you think it is, a mechanized contraption that promises to iron out all the kinks via jets of water. It's a long horizontal machine that opens up like a coffin. In fact, if you've ever watched Star Trek, you might remember how, whenever someone died, they'd get put in these really smooth, shiny, sleek coffins that would then get blasted out into space. Well, the aqua massage machine looked like that, only blue instead of black. It opens up, you climb in and lay down, it closes over you, and the interior water jets have their way with you. Clearly it's not for the claustrophobic. Or aquaphobic. If I lived there, I would definitely use that thing. It is hands down one of the most unique pieces of machinery, pieces of anything, I've ever seen.
Fine Arts Building
811 W. Seventh Street
Walker and Eisen (1926)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #125
"Intending to 'create a grouping of the highest class specialty shops and studios in America,' no expense was spared in this stylish and unique building dedicated to the fine arts. Walker and Eisen's Romanesque exterior is graced with monumental figures by sculptor Burt Johnson, and the foyer is a tour de force by the era's preeminent tile master, Ernest Batchelder. Although the concept of a dedicated artists' space was short-lived, the building has served for many years as architecturally distinctive office space."
If you've seen that movie (500) Days of Summer, you've seen the Fine Arts building. At one point the main character Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), trained as an architect but forced to make ends meet writing greeting cards, points out the Fine Arts building and calls it his favorite piece of architecture. I hardly know anything about architecture except what I've learned through the Conservancy, but I can still recognize an awesome piece of work when I see one, and the Fine Arts building is a, well, fine example. Right away you're struck by the facade, which has a two-story Romanesque arch with terra cotta and adorned with griffins, gargoyles, birds, and flowers. Let your eyes wander around the entire facade and you'll also spot fish, flutists, and other mythical animals.
You walk in to find a lobby that's like an indoor courtyard, complete with a fountain and everything. In fact, the docent told us that Burt Johnson, the guy who sculpted the three little kid statues in the fountain, used his own kids as models. He also sculpted the figures representing Architecture, Painting, Textile Arts, and Ceramics that were installed at select spots along the walls. And then up above Burt did another version of Architecture as well as a figure representing Sculpture, each positioned on a table above a window, one on the second level and the other on the third level. The sad coda about Burt is that he didn't live to see the Fine Arts building finished. He died literally months before it opened from a congenital heart ailment, only thirty-seven years old. In that time, though, he accomplished enough that to this day he's a name to conjure in the sculpture world, most famous for his doughboy sculptures (life-size sculptures of World War I soldiers).
I'm not sure when the Fine Arts building stopped officially being the arts venue it was intended to be, but I know it was before 1983 since that's the year it was restored and renovated. While it's mainly been used as office space ever since, that awesome lobby has been brought back, at least somewhat, to its original purpose of being an art gallery. Called Gallery 1927, named after the year the building opened, those gilded bronze and glass cases along the walls are now used to showcase art thanks to the efforts of two women artists who spearheaded the effort two years ago. The docent said that while the walls of the lobby looked like stone, they're actually made of tile and terra cotta. Yes, the stone-like appearance was intentional.
The back stairs lead you down to this big empty space with a counter that hints to a culinary past. Sure enough, the docent said it was originally a Pig'n'Whistle. After that, it became a Mickey D's. And now it's an empty shell, a depressing afterthought to the otherwise gorgeous piece of property.
Brock and Company Building (Seven Grand)
515 W. Seventh Street
Dodd and Richards (1922)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #358
"Built for Brock and Company, one of the city's most successful jewelry companies, this building has an ornate terra cotta facade. The luxurious interior showrooms featured murals of Versailles- and Art Nouveau-inspired display cases. Clifton's Silver Spoon cafeteria occupied the space from 1974-1997, keeping many of the interior details intact. The second floor reopened in 2007 as Seven Grand, one of many hip new bars revitalizing the nightlife scene downtown. The ground floor is scheduled to reopen as a restaurant in 2010."
I've been to Seven Grand before. I discovered it by accident and with an assist by the Conservancy. Remember the Last Remaining Seats movie series I mentioned above? Well, during the first series I attended, in the spring of '08, my routine was to get downtown early enough to have a few drinks and a bite to eat. Only problem was, I wasn't familiar enough with downtown to know of any decent joints. Before I joined the Conservancy, my downtown trips were limited mostly to the Music Center, up on Bunker Hill, in the northern part of downtown. That leaves out a fairly big chunk of downtown Los Angeles. With Last Remaining Seats, I got to explore downtown proper (and properly) and discover new places. And so one night during Last Remaining Seats, a couple hours before the movie started, I was walking down Seventh St. with my eyes peeled for a restaurant to duck into, preferably one with a bar. I came across one of those little chalkboards you sometimes see set up in front of restaurants with the day's specials written in nice big colors. This particular chalkboard didn't announce any promotions so much as it did the presence of this bar called Seven Grand up on the second floor. Naturally I had to try it out. If I remember right, a bouncer was already sitting at the front door at the bottom of the stairs, but this was like six or so on a Wednesday so the guy was obviously bored. I headed up the stairs into a bar I loved at first sight. Like the best bars, the lighting's terrible, the taps are plentiful, and the billiard tables are impossible to miss, and you've got these little booths and alcoves sort of randomly here and there. If I lived downtown, God help me. Seven Grand bills itself as a whiskey bar. I don't drink whiskey, but that's A-OK. Did I mention all those taps? As the docent led us in and up the stairs, she explained that the restaurant opening on the ground floor this fall, mentioned above in the description, will be a tequila bar.
When Brock was still here, the first floor featured the showroom, the second floor had all the crystal and whatnot, the third floor had the offices, and the fourth floor was one big workroom. The outdoor terrace in Seven Grand, handy for folks who smoke, was originally inside and part of the crystal room.
For today's tour, Seven Grand's pool tables were covered with these huge, ancient ledger books. Check it out. The fine folks at the Conservancy somehow got their hands on some of the original Brock ledger books that document in meticulous detail each and every transaction. Their clientele included everyone under the Hollywood royalty sun: Katharine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Bette Davis, you name it. Think of the biggest names from that era, I guarantee you their signatures were in these ledgers, showing what they bought, the date they bought it, how much it cost, everything. As both a movie and history buff, I was spellbound. I shamelessly held up the line moving around the pool tables as I gawked at these Golden Age celebrity signatures.
Clifton's Cafeteria (originally Clifton's Brookdale)
648 S. Broadway (at Seventh St.)
Clifford Clinton (founder), Robert Brown Young (architect), Francois Scotti (sculptor), Einar Petersen (muralist) (1935)
"The building’s simplified Beaux Arts façade featured expansive display windows to showcase the wares of the original tenants, the J. B. Brown Music Company and Lyon McKinney Smith Company, purveyor of furniture and carpets....Clinton retained the noted architecture firm of Plummer, Wurdeman, and Becket, who designed the iconic Pan-Pacific Auditorium that same year. They redesigned the building’s entire façade, with the lower portion evoking a rustic lodge, and turned the interior into the mountain setting that has greeted Clifton’s patrons for generations....At the entrance on Broadway, the firm designed one of the region’s most intricate terrazzo sidewalks. The artwork spans the length of the building and depicts local landmarks, destinations, and industries....The current exterior dates from 1963, when the entrance was recessed and adorned with turquoise and red mosaic glass tile. The remodel also added the expansive entrance canopy, neon blade sign, and aluminum grille."
Lunch time! Clifton's Cafeteria wasn't officially part of the tour (the above quote is from the Conservancy's website, not the Seventh Street program), and technically it's not on Seventh Street. It's on Broadway, albeit just north of Seventh by a matter of yards. Still, Clifton's is an indelible part of L.A. history, a vestige of Old Broadway that the Conservancy celebrates every spring during Last Remaining Seats. I've wanted to eat here for some time. They talk about it in the newsletters now and again as it enters a multi-phase restoration project.
It opened in 1935 when a restauranteur from Northern California named Clifford Clinton bought what was then known as Boos Brother Cafeteria. Originally he called this particular establishment Clifton's Brookdale in order to distinguish it from the other branches he planned to open. The name Clifton, of course, is a hybrid of his first and last name. Brookdale comes from the Brookdale Lodge in the Santa Cruz Mountains. When he was a youngster growing up in NoCal, Clifford and his family took vacations to a part of the mountains near Brookdale Lodge in the town of Brookdale. Today the Lodge is known as Brookdale Inn and Spa. Clifford wanted his new cafeteria to look like the Lodge. So he hired a rock sculptor named Francois Scotti to create a twenty-foot waterfall which, I discovered today, is still there. It splashes down into a small stream, if you will, which winds through the dining area past faux redwoods that hide the steel columns holding up the place. Clifford then hired Einar Petersen, a mural painter, to paint a huge life-size forest across one entire wall. To round out the Lodge experience, you've also got a stuffed moose head, raccoons, and a bear.
Clifton's stayed in the family for seventy-five years. Only two months ago did the family sell the business to a nightclub entrepreneur named Andrew Meieran. Don't get too down, though. The Clinton family still owns the building that houses the cafeteria, but get this. They didn't own it until four years ago. From 1935 to 2006, they paid rent. At the change-of-ownership press conference in September, Andrew Meieran said he's committed to continuing the mission to restore this gem of Los Angeles history. He'll update the infrastructure, restore the rest of the original historic features the Clinton family didn't get to, and otherwise keep the Lodge interior the way it is. He wants to remove the sixties aluminum grille from the facade and make it look the way it did the day it opened in 1935. As a capstone, he'll apply to have Clifton's designated a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument.
I figure it should be pretty easy to get the HCM designation. Clifton's has a ton of history. As a sci fi fan, I think it's awesome how Clifton's played host to the Los Angeles Science Fiction Society for a long time. One of the attendees was Ray Bradbury. Back when he was a starving, unknown writer, newly arrived from the Midwest, he ate at Clifton's all the time because it was dirt cheap, and sometimes free. Clifford Clinton traveled through China as a youngster and got to see stark poverty up close and personal. It stayed with him forever. Coupled with the fact that he opened Clifton's at the peak of the Great Depression, he made it a point of pride to allow customers to pay only what they could afford. He put up a neon sign out front: "Pay What You Wish." Clifton's became known as the Cafeteria of the Golden Rule. One famous story from the Depression is how, over the course of three months, upwards of ten thousand people ate at Clifton's without paying a dime. Ray Bradbury has obviously reserved a soft spot in his heart for this place. Guess where he had his eighty-ninth birthday last year? Yep, Clifton's. That's awesome.
I loved Clifton's the moment I stepped in today for the first time. The whole rustic hunting lodge vibe was a great break from the Broadway din. I got turkey, mashed potatoes, steamed peas, a role, and an iced soda from the fountain. Delish. It tasted home cooked and hit the spot. Clifton's has three stories and a total of about six hundred seats. The first two stories were pretty much full. I climbed past the redwoods and found a quiet corner by the balcony. Too bad I didn't save room for dessert. Apparently that's where Clifton's really shines, having scored "Best Desserts" in a Los Angeles Downtown News readers restaurant poll.
St. Vincent's Court
Alley off Seventh Street between Broadway and Hill
California State Landmark #567
"St. Vincent's Court, the small alley that runs through the center of the former Bullock's complex, dates back to the 1860s, when the site was occupied by St. Vincent's College (now Loyola Marymount University). This alley was the main entrance into campus. In 1956, a coalition of city boosters funded a remodel of the alley that added murals, awnings, and flowers, precursors of the cafe scenes that line the alley today."
I've "strolled on Seventh Street" several times now and never noticed this alley before. What a great little escape it is. Like Clifton's, it's a nice break from the urban jungle. St. Vincent's Court is a tranquil little world, with stores and a barbershop and all that, hidden in plain sight. I'm thrilled old fashioned barbershops still exist, complete with the rotating barber's pole and everything. It's hard to imagine a college being back here. The docent told us St. Vincent's was the very first institution for higher learning in Southern California when it opened in 1865. It opened at a different location downtown, then moved here in 1867. Ten years later it moved about a mile or so south of downtown, to Grand Ave. and Washington Blvd., not far from where USC eventually opened a few years later. The big switcheroo happened in 1911. The Vincentian Fathers left L.A., and the Jesuits took over. They folded St. Vincent's into their new Jesuit school, called simply Los Angeles College. Loyola was originally their high school. Long story short, after another ten years of reorgs and what have you, including the name changing back to St. Vincent's for a time, it finally became Loyola College in the early 1920s. It was an all boys school for half a century before joining forces with the all girls Marymount College in the early seventies.
Another piece of interesting backstory the docent related had to do with the pedestrian bridge connecting the second floors of the two buildings on either side of the complex. As it says in the program, this complex used to be owned by the Bullocks department store company. Well, apparently William Randolph Hearst had offices in one of these buildings, and when he heard that Bullocks wanted to put in that pedestrian bridge, he said it would only happen over his dead body. You might not think something like a pedestrian bridge would incite so much drama and acrimony, but the docent swore he wasn't exaggerating when he said the Bullocks-Hearst bridge squabble became a very public squabble.
Hellman Commercial Trust and Savings Bank
650 S. Spring St.
Schultze and Weaver (1925)
National Register of Historic Places
(Spring Street Financial District)
"Isaias Hellman spared no expense in the design, materials, or amenities for the new headquarters of his bank, which cost a reputed $2.5 million to construct. The main banking area remains mostly intact, with elaborate marble, wood, and metal details in a Spanish Revival style. In 2009, the offices above were converted into 174 apartments. The former banking lobby now serves as an event space and a popular filming location."
Thanks to the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, I've heard of Isaias Hellman, for I got to meet his great-great-granddaughter, Frances Dinkelspiel, at the Book Fest in April 2009. In the fall of 2008, Frances, a veteran journalist, published her very first book, Towers of Gold: How One Jewish Immigrant Named Isaias Hellman Created California. At the 2009 Book Fest, she was part of a panel called History: Unknown Los Angeles. I blogged about it on this very Glubbdubdrib on Saturday, April 25, 2009. Isaias Hellman largely determined the course of L.A. history in the 1800s, helping transform our humble little pueblo into a modern urban center. I remember Frances telling us that Los Angeles has been heterogeneous a lot longer than people think. As far back as 1910, the City of Angels was already a melting pot: Blacks, Asians, Native Americans, Europeans, including a huge influx of European Jews who were fleeing persecution. Indeed, the Hollywood studio system was in large part founded by European Jewish immigrants.
Isaias Hellman was a Jewish immigrant from the southern German state of Bavaria, birthplace not only of Isaias Hellman but of Oktoberfest. While he's most notable as the founder of Wells Fargo, Frances told us in no uncertain terms that Isaias "has his fingerprint" on quite a bit of L.A. history. Other local historical figures, chief among them Edward Doheny and William Mulholland, couldn't've accomplished all they did without the support of Isaias. A lot of people didn't know that, and it's no wonder. In writing Towers of Gold, Frances became the first person to tell her great-great-grandfather's story fully. I remember her throwing out a lot of little known facts at the Book Fest. Did you know L.A. supported the Confederacy during the Civil War? I had no idea. Frances said the tension finally climaxed with rioting in the streets. Governor Jim Downey came down from Sacramento to restore order.
Our docent for this stop was the awesome and always buoyant Tony Valdez. He's not only a very popular Conservancy docent, speaker, volunteer, and all around great guy, he's also a local celebrity. Tony's been a reporter for KTTV for thirty years, since well before it became the city's Fox affiliate in the early nineties. Born and raised here, he always puts in an appearance at one of the Last Remaining Seats screenings. A great storyteller, today he told us about his commanding officer in Vietnam. Apparently Tony's platoon saw quite a bit of action. As in, they were among the grunts thrown up front. Fresh out of high school at the time, Tony was scared out of his wits, but his commanding officer always said to have faith. If it's not your time to go, you'll make it. But "when it's time, it's time."
Don't ask me which movie or movies I've seen this bank in before, but it looked very familiar. Tony echoed the program and said it's used all the time for movies, TV shows, and commercials. It's got this huge vault door that Tony said was installed specifically for a movie. The check counter's surface was white marble with streaks of off-white and gray and whatnot. Supporting it underneath, instead of ordinary counter legs, were bronze sculptures of healthy naked women. When a few people tittered at the sight, Tony was like, "Hey, it was a different time back then. Different priorities."
Tony told us that the MTA wasn't the first mass transit system here. It's a descendant, so to speak, of past public transport systems. A few blocks to the north and west of the bank stands the Subway Terminal building. It still goes by that name even though today it's a luxury apartment building. Built in 1925 in the Italian Renaissance Revival style, it originally served as the downtown stop for the Hollywood subway line of Pacific Electric Railway. It wasn't a subway the way you're thinking. This was a streetcar with its own private tunnel to bypass car volume. Yes, as early as the 1920s, Los Angeles was infamous for parking lot gridlock. And so a one-mile tunnel was built for the streetcar, starting at Beverly Blvd. and Glendale Blvd. in Westlake and terminating at the Subway Terminal. It ceased being a subway in 1955.
Heywood Bros. & Wakefield Company
(Dearden's Home Furnishings)
700-710 S. Main Street
Architect unknown (ca. 1899); John Parkinson remodel (ca. 1902)
Hulse, Bradford & Company
(Dearden's Home Furnishings)
712-718 S. Main St.
R.B. Young (1901)
"Dearden's Home Furnishings was founded in 1909, a few doors south of its current location, in what was then a bustling furniture district. The present store comprises three buildings, all of which previously housed furniture stores: Heywood Bros. & Wakefield Company (circa 1899) on the corner, which became Overell's in 1906; Hulse, Bradford & Company (1901) just to the south; and a third industrial structure to the rear. For over a century, Dearden's has specialized in personal service, eventually expanding to nine stores across Los Angeles County."
Dearden's is a great example of adapting to survive. In 1909, downtown Los Angeles was a much different place than it is today. The docent told us that Dearden's is still owned by the Dearden family and that, yes, they're awesome at adapting to shifting demographics. For a long time, downtown L.A., like East L.A., had a substantial Latino population. So they got really good at catering to that demo. But since the nineties, a lot of these abandoned downtown buildings have been converted to lofts, so now you have a big chunk of loft dwellers. What does that mean if you're Dearden's? It means it's time to sell furniture that's narrower than regular furniture, the kind of furniture you can fit in a loft.
In addition to furniture, Dearden's handles electronics, appliances, jewelry and perfume. They ship nationwide as well as to Mexico, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Thanks to an H&R Block partnership, they offer an income tax service. Dearden's also has a travel agency called Viajes Dearden's. And here's another nice factoid: Their CEO is a Latina who was the first Latin person they hired.
Outside the store, over on the right side facing the parking lot, you've got a huge mural of a Latino family. The docent explained that it was painted relatively recently to show at a glance Dearden's main demographic. If you check out deardens.com, the default site language is Spanish. Enough said.
Santee Court
714, 716, 720, and 724 S. Los Angeles St.
Arthur W. Angel (1911)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #710
"An ambitious adaptive reuse project begun in 2003, Santee Court and Village transformed a large block of industrial buildings into a mixed-use complex with residential, commercial, retail, and arts tenants, facing onto a courtyard."
The Bailey Hat Company was here! Heard of them? They were the first company to make the Disney mouse hats we all know and love. No, they're not at Santee Court anymore, but they're very much still in business. Check out baileyhats.com when you get a chance. Founded in the 1920s, they specialize in hats for Hollywood movies with an emphasis on Westerns.
A sextet of buildings on the southeast corner of Seventh and Los Angeles in the fashion district, Santee Court was the last stop on today's stroll of Seventh. The buildings are arranged in a near complete square, with the northern end open onto Seventh. The docent told us that the fountain in the courtyard is called Robinson Fountain, named after Paul Revere Robinson, the first major black architect in the U.S. Robinson himself had nothing to do with Santee Court, but he was born about a block away.
All six buildings at Santee Court were originally industrial buildings. Four of them are now residential while the other two house a gourmet market, food court, and fitness center. With a collective total of about two hundred forty lofts, the four residential buildings are: The Brownstein-Louis, the Connell, the Bailey Hat, and the Santee.
The Brownstein-Louis building was originally the home of the Brownstein-Louis Clothing Company. They'd been around a few decades before moving here. For twenty years they were a member of the Merchants and Manufacturers Association, but when they advertised for union labor to help build this new building on Seventh and Los Angeles, the MMA revoked their membership. So you've got some drama behind the history of this otherwise innocent-looking structure. It originally had an ornate, Baroque-type facade that was changed in the late fifties to the Art Deco style you see today. The horizontally rotating Deco-inspired windows face the street as well as an interior courtyard garden. Some of the lofts have balconies overlooking an interior light well. Some have murals. Every loft in this building has high ceilings. The rooftop getaway includes a BBQ and a driving range.
Officially an historic landmark since 2001, the Connell is five stories of Modern. It's named after businessman Michael J. Connell, the man credited as the founder of downtown L.A.'s fashion district since he's the one who kicked off the city's first garment and textile manufacturing construction boom in the early twentieth century. As the docent explained, the facade has "fluted piers that echo between paired windows with heavy concrete frame construction and are characteristic of the early 20th century industrial era." You could have one of three different street views. The Connell lofts are mostly shaped like big squares and, like the Brownstein-Louis, have Deco windows. Instead of a driving range and BBQ up top, though, you've got a b ball court.
The Bailey Hat building is so called because of what you're probably guessing. Yes, they were the original tenants here. Situated behind the Connell, the Bailey's basically a long rectangular building with lofts of mostly elongated shapes and sizes. One distinctive feature are the eight-foot steel-grid factory windows that were so designed for maximum light and ventilation. The docent said these were the original windows. Some lofts have concrete ceilings for those seeking an even more industrial look and feel. And on the roof? A pool and a spa.
While the Santee is the newest of the four loft buildings, it's still old enough to be historic. Like the Connell, it was declared a historic landmark in 2001. Unlike the lofts in the other buildings, the Santee lofts come with new kitchens, complete with granite counters and Bosch appliances. I can't remember if the other buildings' lofts had washer and dryer hookups, but the Santee's did. The windows, as the docent explained, are "divided light industrial." Select lofts have one or two alcoves for separate living areas. And like the other buildings, the Santee's exterior features heavy concrete-frame construction and ornamental details.
Besides walking around the hallways and the connected rooftops, the docent let us go into one of the lofts. I think it was in the Santee. For whatever reason, I thought it was a model and went ahead and opened the fridge. The docent was like, "Hey now!" Oops. Cool place, though. And I like the complex's small village look and feel, and how the residents are called Courtians.
That does it for an awesome day. I'm really glad I signed up for this walking tour. The vast majority of folks who go by or along Seventh have no idea of all this history. Nor do they appreciate the architecture and design. I should know. I'm one of them. But with the Conservancy's help, I'm trying to change that.
"Located nearly a mile south of the original pueblo, the area that is now Seventh Street was once agricultural land on the outskirts of Los Angeles. With the arrival of the Southern Pacific Railroad in 1876, the city's population exploded, and the rural fields began to give way to residences.
"As the city's commercial center continued to expand, Seventh evolved from residential to commercial use. The street's first major commercial building, the eight-story Lankershim Hotel, opened in 1905 at Seventh and Broadway (it was demolished in the early 1990s).
"In 1906, John Bullock opened his flagship department store at the corner of Seventh and Broadway. Bullock's paved the way for Seventh Street to develop into an upscale shopping street distinct from the bustling retail on Broadway..."
So goes the first part of the intro to the program for Strolling on Seventh Street: Downtown's Historic Thoroughfare, a walking tour put on this afternoon by the nonprofit Los Angeles Conservancy.
I've been a member of the Conservancy for two and half years, and until today, I'd never gone on any of their walking tours. The only Conservancy program I attend regularly is the Last Remaining Seats movie series. I blog about it right here every spring. For six Wednesdays from May through June, the Conservancy screens classic films in those beautifully restored theaters downtown on Broadway: The Million Dollar, the Los Angeles, and the Orpheum. Last Remaining Seats is part of Bringing Back Broadway, a Conservancy initiative to revitalize the Broadway corridor that'll take several more years to complete. By the time it's done, among other improvements and enhancements, Broadway will have a streetcar like it used to, and hopefully those nine or so other movie palaces will have been restored.
The Conservancy has a regular schedule of walking tours. Some are weekly, some are biweekly, others are monthly. And now and again, like today, they'll put on a special one-time-only walking tour. Reading their newsletters as I do, I'm always aware of their walking tours, and I always tell myself I should go on one. After two and a half years, I'm happy to say I've finally done it.
This was an awesome one to choose as my first Conservancy walking tour, for a few reasons. First, the weather couldn't've been better. Yes, I know it's LA, but you never know during late fall and winter. We don't get much rain, but when we do, November to March is when it happens. Not today, though. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and it wasn't too hot. What also made the tour awesome was its depth and breadth of subject matter. As you read in my quote from the program, this tour stretched back to nearly the beginning of the pueblo of Los Angeles and how the evolution of Seventh Street was impacted by and in turn impacted the pueblo's, and eventually the city's, evolution. Indeed, this tour was so big that the Conservancy needed a bunch of volunteer docents to share the workload, at least one docent per landmark. Those smaller, regularly scheduled walking tours, in stark contrast, only require one docent. Speaking of landmarks, another reason this was a great first walking tour was the great architecture. While you've got a bunch of different styles downtown, the predominant style on Seventh Street is Beaux Arts, a formal style adapted from ancient Greece and Rome. As a huge fan of antiquity, which you might've noticed in my recent post from the Getty Villa about art and performance in ancient Greece, I can definitely appreciate any type of architecture informed by the eras of Sophocles and Pliny. So this was super. What's better, it didn't eat up the whole day, but it did allow me to eat at Clifton's Cafeteria, a downtown staple I've always wanted to try.
Broadway Plaza (Macy's Plaza)
700 W. Seventh Street
Charles Luckman Associates (1973)
"Covering an entire city block, the Broadway Plaza includes a twenty-three-story hotel, a thirty-two-story office tower, and an eight-story brick-clad department store/parking structure, linked by a two-level atrium shopping plaza. Charles Luckman served as both the architect and developer of the project, an unusual arrangement at the time. The hotel originally featured a revolving restaurant named Angel's Flight with 360-degree views of downtown."
What the program doesn't say is that Charles Luckman's the guy behind Kennedy Space Center, Madison Square Garden, and The Forum. The reason this used to be called Broadway Plaza is because the flagship department store used to be the Broadway department store. Basically, whichever department store occupies that coveted space on the ground floor gets to use their name for the entire property, and so far Broadway and Macy's are the only two who've had that privilege. In fact, the only reason Macy's got it is because they bought out the Broadway company in the mid nineties.
The first docent took us around the first two levels, which feature establishments you know and love. You've got Macy's, of course, as well as Radio Shack, T-Mobile, Bath and Body Works, Bally Total Fitness, Victoria's Secret, as well as a post office, which I'm guessing is very convenient for the folks who live and work in this neighborhood. The lobby's also got a huge space for seasonal events and live entertainment.
From there we took the elevator to the very top, to a huge circular space called the Polaris Room, where another docent showed us around. This space was originally used for the Angel's Flight restaurant quoted above from the program. Now it's used for private events. While Charles Luckman designed Macy's Plaza proper, this particular panoramic space was designed by someone else. I forget the guy's name, but it's the same guy who designed the awesome BonaVista Lounge atop the Westin Bonaventure Hotel just a couple blocks up and over on Fifth and Figueroa. I love that place. It's a circular cocktail lounge that rotates one revolution per hour. The views are awesome, including a view of the Music Center a few blocks to the north. Unfortunately the Polaris Room doesn't rotate, although it used to when it was still Angel's Flight. The docent said the rotating floor was taken away in the late nineties. Apparently the guy who made this and the BonaVista loved rotating restaurants with awesome views so much, he designed yet a third one at the University of South Carolina. It's called The Top of Carolina, and it sits atop the Capstone House, one of the dorm buildings. It still rotates today and is no doubt popular with the students as it provides them great views of downtown Columbia. If I needed a reason to add South Carolina to my bucket list, now I have one.
Roosevelt Building (The Roosevelt)
727 W. Seventh Street
Curlett and Beelman (1927)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #355
National Register of Historic Places
"This massive Renaissance Revival building was purported to be the largest office building in Southern California when it opened. Architects Curlett and Beelman were prolific downtown practitioners, designing six buildings on Seventh Street alone. In 2008, the Roosevelt underwent conversion to 222 residential units, restoring the original entry lobby with its spectacular mosaic marble floors."
Now this was cool, an old historic building that's been converted into a building full of very modern, and very expensive, apartments. The docent said this was built back in the day when buildings were often named after presidents. This would have been named after Teddy since his cousin Franklin didn't arrive in the White House until six years after this was built. While the apartments looked great and the overall restoration was very well done, I have to say they looked a wee small for three grand a month. On the plus side, they do come with a dishwasher, washer, and dryer. And I loved how the space was maximized, like how the appliances were kept in cabinets for example. As you'd expect, the views were especially great from the higher up units.
As neat and modern as the apartments were, nothing beat that aqua massage machine in the fourth floor recreation area. I guess rec area is the best way to describe it. It's also sort of an oasis. The central space when you walk in features a flat stretch of fake grass adorned here and there with shiny, polished stones big and flat enough to sit on. Covering the opposite wall was this huge mural depicting a waterfall in paradise. Meantime, you've got little rooms off to the sides. One door leads to locker rooms and showers and restrooms. Another leads to a gym with very modern equipment and wall-mounted flatscreen TVs. And finally, in a small room all its own, was the very awesome and very blue aqua massage machine. What's an aqua massage machine, you ask? It's pretty much what you think it is, a mechanized contraption that promises to iron out all the kinks via jets of water. It's a long horizontal machine that opens up like a coffin. In fact, if you've ever watched Star Trek, you might remember how, whenever someone died, they'd get put in these really smooth, shiny, sleek coffins that would then get blasted out into space. Well, the aqua massage machine looked like that, only blue instead of black. It opens up, you climb in and lay down, it closes over you, and the interior water jets have their way with you. Clearly it's not for the claustrophobic. Or aquaphobic. If I lived there, I would definitely use that thing. It is hands down one of the most unique pieces of machinery, pieces of anything, I've ever seen.
Fine Arts Building
811 W. Seventh Street
Walker and Eisen (1926)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #125
"Intending to 'create a grouping of the highest class specialty shops and studios in America,' no expense was spared in this stylish and unique building dedicated to the fine arts. Walker and Eisen's Romanesque exterior is graced with monumental figures by sculptor Burt Johnson, and the foyer is a tour de force by the era's preeminent tile master, Ernest Batchelder. Although the concept of a dedicated artists' space was short-lived, the building has served for many years as architecturally distinctive office space."
If you've seen that movie (500) Days of Summer, you've seen the Fine Arts building. At one point the main character Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), trained as an architect but forced to make ends meet writing greeting cards, points out the Fine Arts building and calls it his favorite piece of architecture. I hardly know anything about architecture except what I've learned through the Conservancy, but I can still recognize an awesome piece of work when I see one, and the Fine Arts building is a, well, fine example. Right away you're struck by the facade, which has a two-story Romanesque arch with terra cotta and adorned with griffins, gargoyles, birds, and flowers. Let your eyes wander around the entire facade and you'll also spot fish, flutists, and other mythical animals.
You walk in to find a lobby that's like an indoor courtyard, complete with a fountain and everything. In fact, the docent told us that Burt Johnson, the guy who sculpted the three little kid statues in the fountain, used his own kids as models. He also sculpted the figures representing Architecture, Painting, Textile Arts, and Ceramics that were installed at select spots along the walls. And then up above Burt did another version of Architecture as well as a figure representing Sculpture, each positioned on a table above a window, one on the second level and the other on the third level. The sad coda about Burt is that he didn't live to see the Fine Arts building finished. He died literally months before it opened from a congenital heart ailment, only thirty-seven years old. In that time, though, he accomplished enough that to this day he's a name to conjure in the sculpture world, most famous for his doughboy sculptures (life-size sculptures of World War I soldiers).
I'm not sure when the Fine Arts building stopped officially being the arts venue it was intended to be, but I know it was before 1983 since that's the year it was restored and renovated. While it's mainly been used as office space ever since, that awesome lobby has been brought back, at least somewhat, to its original purpose of being an art gallery. Called Gallery 1927, named after the year the building opened, those gilded bronze and glass cases along the walls are now used to showcase art thanks to the efforts of two women artists who spearheaded the effort two years ago. The docent said that while the walls of the lobby looked like stone, they're actually made of tile and terra cotta. Yes, the stone-like appearance was intentional.
The back stairs lead you down to this big empty space with a counter that hints to a culinary past. Sure enough, the docent said it was originally a Pig'n'Whistle. After that, it became a Mickey D's. And now it's an empty shell, a depressing afterthought to the otherwise gorgeous piece of property.
Brock and Company Building (Seven Grand)
515 W. Seventh Street
Dodd and Richards (1922)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #358
"Built for Brock and Company, one of the city's most successful jewelry companies, this building has an ornate terra cotta facade. The luxurious interior showrooms featured murals of Versailles- and Art Nouveau-inspired display cases. Clifton's Silver Spoon cafeteria occupied the space from 1974-1997, keeping many of the interior details intact. The second floor reopened in 2007 as Seven Grand, one of many hip new bars revitalizing the nightlife scene downtown. The ground floor is scheduled to reopen as a restaurant in 2010."
I've been to Seven Grand before. I discovered it by accident and with an assist by the Conservancy. Remember the Last Remaining Seats movie series I mentioned above? Well, during the first series I attended, in the spring of '08, my routine was to get downtown early enough to have a few drinks and a bite to eat. Only problem was, I wasn't familiar enough with downtown to know of any decent joints. Before I joined the Conservancy, my downtown trips were limited mostly to the Music Center, up on Bunker Hill, in the northern part of downtown. That leaves out a fairly big chunk of downtown Los Angeles. With Last Remaining Seats, I got to explore downtown proper (and properly) and discover new places. And so one night during Last Remaining Seats, a couple hours before the movie started, I was walking down Seventh St. with my eyes peeled for a restaurant to duck into, preferably one with a bar. I came across one of those little chalkboards you sometimes see set up in front of restaurants with the day's specials written in nice big colors. This particular chalkboard didn't announce any promotions so much as it did the presence of this bar called Seven Grand up on the second floor. Naturally I had to try it out. If I remember right, a bouncer was already sitting at the front door at the bottom of the stairs, but this was like six or so on a Wednesday so the guy was obviously bored. I headed up the stairs into a bar I loved at first sight. Like the best bars, the lighting's terrible, the taps are plentiful, and the billiard tables are impossible to miss, and you've got these little booths and alcoves sort of randomly here and there. If I lived downtown, God help me. Seven Grand bills itself as a whiskey bar. I don't drink whiskey, but that's A-OK. Did I mention all those taps? As the docent led us in and up the stairs, she explained that the restaurant opening on the ground floor this fall, mentioned above in the description, will be a tequila bar.
When Brock was still here, the first floor featured the showroom, the second floor had all the crystal and whatnot, the third floor had the offices, and the fourth floor was one big workroom. The outdoor terrace in Seven Grand, handy for folks who smoke, was originally inside and part of the crystal room.
For today's tour, Seven Grand's pool tables were covered with these huge, ancient ledger books. Check it out. The fine folks at the Conservancy somehow got their hands on some of the original Brock ledger books that document in meticulous detail each and every transaction. Their clientele included everyone under the Hollywood royalty sun: Katharine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Bette Davis, you name it. Think of the biggest names from that era, I guarantee you their signatures were in these ledgers, showing what they bought, the date they bought it, how much it cost, everything. As both a movie and history buff, I was spellbound. I shamelessly held up the line moving around the pool tables as I gawked at these Golden Age celebrity signatures.
Clifton's Cafeteria (originally Clifton's Brookdale)
648 S. Broadway (at Seventh St.)
Clifford Clinton (founder), Robert Brown Young (architect), Francois Scotti (sculptor), Einar Petersen (muralist) (1935)
"The building’s simplified Beaux Arts façade featured expansive display windows to showcase the wares of the original tenants, the J. B. Brown Music Company and Lyon McKinney Smith Company, purveyor of furniture and carpets....Clinton retained the noted architecture firm of Plummer, Wurdeman, and Becket, who designed the iconic Pan-Pacific Auditorium that same year. They redesigned the building’s entire façade, with the lower portion evoking a rustic lodge, and turned the interior into the mountain setting that has greeted Clifton’s patrons for generations....At the entrance on Broadway, the firm designed one of the region’s most intricate terrazzo sidewalks. The artwork spans the length of the building and depicts local landmarks, destinations, and industries....The current exterior dates from 1963, when the entrance was recessed and adorned with turquoise and red mosaic glass tile. The remodel also added the expansive entrance canopy, neon blade sign, and aluminum grille."
Lunch time! Clifton's Cafeteria wasn't officially part of the tour (the above quote is from the Conservancy's website, not the Seventh Street program), and technically it's not on Seventh Street. It's on Broadway, albeit just north of Seventh by a matter of yards. Still, Clifton's is an indelible part of L.A. history, a vestige of Old Broadway that the Conservancy celebrates every spring during Last Remaining Seats. I've wanted to eat here for some time. They talk about it in the newsletters now and again as it enters a multi-phase restoration project.
It opened in 1935 when a restauranteur from Northern California named Clifford Clinton bought what was then known as Boos Brother Cafeteria. Originally he called this particular establishment Clifton's Brookdale in order to distinguish it from the other branches he planned to open. The name Clifton, of course, is a hybrid of his first and last name. Brookdale comes from the Brookdale Lodge in the Santa Cruz Mountains. When he was a youngster growing up in NoCal, Clifford and his family took vacations to a part of the mountains near Brookdale Lodge in the town of Brookdale. Today the Lodge is known as Brookdale Inn and Spa. Clifford wanted his new cafeteria to look like the Lodge. So he hired a rock sculptor named Francois Scotti to create a twenty-foot waterfall which, I discovered today, is still there. It splashes down into a small stream, if you will, which winds through the dining area past faux redwoods that hide the steel columns holding up the place. Clifford then hired Einar Petersen, a mural painter, to paint a huge life-size forest across one entire wall. To round out the Lodge experience, you've also got a stuffed moose head, raccoons, and a bear.
Clifton's stayed in the family for seventy-five years. Only two months ago did the family sell the business to a nightclub entrepreneur named Andrew Meieran. Don't get too down, though. The Clinton family still owns the building that houses the cafeteria, but get this. They didn't own it until four years ago. From 1935 to 2006, they paid rent. At the change-of-ownership press conference in September, Andrew Meieran said he's committed to continuing the mission to restore this gem of Los Angeles history. He'll update the infrastructure, restore the rest of the original historic features the Clinton family didn't get to, and otherwise keep the Lodge interior the way it is. He wants to remove the sixties aluminum grille from the facade and make it look the way it did the day it opened in 1935. As a capstone, he'll apply to have Clifton's designated a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument.
I figure it should be pretty easy to get the HCM designation. Clifton's has a ton of history. As a sci fi fan, I think it's awesome how Clifton's played host to the Los Angeles Science Fiction Society for a long time. One of the attendees was Ray Bradbury. Back when he was a starving, unknown writer, newly arrived from the Midwest, he ate at Clifton's all the time because it was dirt cheap, and sometimes free. Clifford Clinton traveled through China as a youngster and got to see stark poverty up close and personal. It stayed with him forever. Coupled with the fact that he opened Clifton's at the peak of the Great Depression, he made it a point of pride to allow customers to pay only what they could afford. He put up a neon sign out front: "Pay What You Wish." Clifton's became known as the Cafeteria of the Golden Rule. One famous story from the Depression is how, over the course of three months, upwards of ten thousand people ate at Clifton's without paying a dime. Ray Bradbury has obviously reserved a soft spot in his heart for this place. Guess where he had his eighty-ninth birthday last year? Yep, Clifton's. That's awesome.
I loved Clifton's the moment I stepped in today for the first time. The whole rustic hunting lodge vibe was a great break from the Broadway din. I got turkey, mashed potatoes, steamed peas, a role, and an iced soda from the fountain. Delish. It tasted home cooked and hit the spot. Clifton's has three stories and a total of about six hundred seats. The first two stories were pretty much full. I climbed past the redwoods and found a quiet corner by the balcony. Too bad I didn't save room for dessert. Apparently that's where Clifton's really shines, having scored "Best Desserts" in a Los Angeles Downtown News readers restaurant poll.
St. Vincent's Court
Alley off Seventh Street between Broadway and Hill
California State Landmark #567
"St. Vincent's Court, the small alley that runs through the center of the former Bullock's complex, dates back to the 1860s, when the site was occupied by St. Vincent's College (now Loyola Marymount University). This alley was the main entrance into campus. In 1956, a coalition of city boosters funded a remodel of the alley that added murals, awnings, and flowers, precursors of the cafe scenes that line the alley today."
I've "strolled on Seventh Street" several times now and never noticed this alley before. What a great little escape it is. Like Clifton's, it's a nice break from the urban jungle. St. Vincent's Court is a tranquil little world, with stores and a barbershop and all that, hidden in plain sight. I'm thrilled old fashioned barbershops still exist, complete with the rotating barber's pole and everything. It's hard to imagine a college being back here. The docent told us St. Vincent's was the very first institution for higher learning in Southern California when it opened in 1865. It opened at a different location downtown, then moved here in 1867. Ten years later it moved about a mile or so south of downtown, to Grand Ave. and Washington Blvd., not far from where USC eventually opened a few years later. The big switcheroo happened in 1911. The Vincentian Fathers left L.A., and the Jesuits took over. They folded St. Vincent's into their new Jesuit school, called simply Los Angeles College. Loyola was originally their high school. Long story short, after another ten years of reorgs and what have you, including the name changing back to St. Vincent's for a time, it finally became Loyola College in the early 1920s. It was an all boys school for half a century before joining forces with the all girls Marymount College in the early seventies.
Another piece of interesting backstory the docent related had to do with the pedestrian bridge connecting the second floors of the two buildings on either side of the complex. As it says in the program, this complex used to be owned by the Bullocks department store company. Well, apparently William Randolph Hearst had offices in one of these buildings, and when he heard that Bullocks wanted to put in that pedestrian bridge, he said it would only happen over his dead body. You might not think something like a pedestrian bridge would incite so much drama and acrimony, but the docent swore he wasn't exaggerating when he said the Bullocks-Hearst bridge squabble became a very public squabble.
Hellman Commercial Trust and Savings Bank
650 S. Spring St.
Schultze and Weaver (1925)
National Register of Historic Places
(Spring Street Financial District)
"Isaias Hellman spared no expense in the design, materials, or amenities for the new headquarters of his bank, which cost a reputed $2.5 million to construct. The main banking area remains mostly intact, with elaborate marble, wood, and metal details in a Spanish Revival style. In 2009, the offices above were converted into 174 apartments. The former banking lobby now serves as an event space and a popular filming location."
Thanks to the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, I've heard of Isaias Hellman, for I got to meet his great-great-granddaughter, Frances Dinkelspiel, at the Book Fest in April 2009. In the fall of 2008, Frances, a veteran journalist, published her very first book, Towers of Gold: How One Jewish Immigrant Named Isaias Hellman Created California. At the 2009 Book Fest, she was part of a panel called History: Unknown Los Angeles. I blogged about it on this very Glubbdubdrib on Saturday, April 25, 2009. Isaias Hellman largely determined the course of L.A. history in the 1800s, helping transform our humble little pueblo into a modern urban center. I remember Frances telling us that Los Angeles has been heterogeneous a lot longer than people think. As far back as 1910, the City of Angels was already a melting pot: Blacks, Asians, Native Americans, Europeans, including a huge influx of European Jews who were fleeing persecution. Indeed, the Hollywood studio system was in large part founded by European Jewish immigrants.
Isaias Hellman was a Jewish immigrant from the southern German state of Bavaria, birthplace not only of Isaias Hellman but of Oktoberfest. While he's most notable as the founder of Wells Fargo, Frances told us in no uncertain terms that Isaias "has his fingerprint" on quite a bit of L.A. history. Other local historical figures, chief among them Edward Doheny and William Mulholland, couldn't've accomplished all they did without the support of Isaias. A lot of people didn't know that, and it's no wonder. In writing Towers of Gold, Frances became the first person to tell her great-great-grandfather's story fully. I remember her throwing out a lot of little known facts at the Book Fest. Did you know L.A. supported the Confederacy during the Civil War? I had no idea. Frances said the tension finally climaxed with rioting in the streets. Governor Jim Downey came down from Sacramento to restore order.
Our docent for this stop was the awesome and always buoyant Tony Valdez. He's not only a very popular Conservancy docent, speaker, volunteer, and all around great guy, he's also a local celebrity. Tony's been a reporter for KTTV for thirty years, since well before it became the city's Fox affiliate in the early nineties. Born and raised here, he always puts in an appearance at one of the Last Remaining Seats screenings. A great storyteller, today he told us about his commanding officer in Vietnam. Apparently Tony's platoon saw quite a bit of action. As in, they were among the grunts thrown up front. Fresh out of high school at the time, Tony was scared out of his wits, but his commanding officer always said to have faith. If it's not your time to go, you'll make it. But "when it's time, it's time."
Don't ask me which movie or movies I've seen this bank in before, but it looked very familiar. Tony echoed the program and said it's used all the time for movies, TV shows, and commercials. It's got this huge vault door that Tony said was installed specifically for a movie. The check counter's surface was white marble with streaks of off-white and gray and whatnot. Supporting it underneath, instead of ordinary counter legs, were bronze sculptures of healthy naked women. When a few people tittered at the sight, Tony was like, "Hey, it was a different time back then. Different priorities."
Tony told us that the MTA wasn't the first mass transit system here. It's a descendant, so to speak, of past public transport systems. A few blocks to the north and west of the bank stands the Subway Terminal building. It still goes by that name even though today it's a luxury apartment building. Built in 1925 in the Italian Renaissance Revival style, it originally served as the downtown stop for the Hollywood subway line of Pacific Electric Railway. It wasn't a subway the way you're thinking. This was a streetcar with its own private tunnel to bypass car volume. Yes, as early as the 1920s, Los Angeles was infamous for parking lot gridlock. And so a one-mile tunnel was built for the streetcar, starting at Beverly Blvd. and Glendale Blvd. in Westlake and terminating at the Subway Terminal. It ceased being a subway in 1955.
Heywood Bros. & Wakefield Company
(Dearden's Home Furnishings)
700-710 S. Main Street
Architect unknown (ca. 1899); John Parkinson remodel (ca. 1902)
Hulse, Bradford & Company
(Dearden's Home Furnishings)
712-718 S. Main St.
R.B. Young (1901)
"Dearden's Home Furnishings was founded in 1909, a few doors south of its current location, in what was then a bustling furniture district. The present store comprises three buildings, all of which previously housed furniture stores: Heywood Bros. & Wakefield Company (circa 1899) on the corner, which became Overell's in 1906; Hulse, Bradford & Company (1901) just to the south; and a third industrial structure to the rear. For over a century, Dearden's has specialized in personal service, eventually expanding to nine stores across Los Angeles County."
Dearden's is a great example of adapting to survive. In 1909, downtown Los Angeles was a much different place than it is today. The docent told us that Dearden's is still owned by the Dearden family and that, yes, they're awesome at adapting to shifting demographics. For a long time, downtown L.A., like East L.A., had a substantial Latino population. So they got really good at catering to that demo. But since the nineties, a lot of these abandoned downtown buildings have been converted to lofts, so now you have a big chunk of loft dwellers. What does that mean if you're Dearden's? It means it's time to sell furniture that's narrower than regular furniture, the kind of furniture you can fit in a loft.
In addition to furniture, Dearden's handles electronics, appliances, jewelry and perfume. They ship nationwide as well as to Mexico, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Thanks to an H&R Block partnership, they offer an income tax service. Dearden's also has a travel agency called Viajes Dearden's. And here's another nice factoid: Their CEO is a Latina who was the first Latin person they hired.
Outside the store, over on the right side facing the parking lot, you've got a huge mural of a Latino family. The docent explained that it was painted relatively recently to show at a glance Dearden's main demographic. If you check out deardens.com, the default site language is Spanish. Enough said.
Santee Court
714, 716, 720, and 724 S. Los Angeles St.
Arthur W. Angel (1911)
Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #710
"An ambitious adaptive reuse project begun in 2003, Santee Court and Village transformed a large block of industrial buildings into a mixed-use complex with residential, commercial, retail, and arts tenants, facing onto a courtyard."
The Bailey Hat Company was here! Heard of them? They were the first company to make the Disney mouse hats we all know and love. No, they're not at Santee Court anymore, but they're very much still in business. Check out baileyhats.com when you get a chance. Founded in the 1920s, they specialize in hats for Hollywood movies with an emphasis on Westerns.
A sextet of buildings on the southeast corner of Seventh and Los Angeles in the fashion district, Santee Court was the last stop on today's stroll of Seventh. The buildings are arranged in a near complete square, with the northern end open onto Seventh. The docent told us that the fountain in the courtyard is called Robinson Fountain, named after Paul Revere Robinson, the first major black architect in the U.S. Robinson himself had nothing to do with Santee Court, but he was born about a block away.
All six buildings at Santee Court were originally industrial buildings. Four of them are now residential while the other two house a gourmet market, food court, and fitness center. With a collective total of about two hundred forty lofts, the four residential buildings are: The Brownstein-Louis, the Connell, the Bailey Hat, and the Santee.
The Brownstein-Louis building was originally the home of the Brownstein-Louis Clothing Company. They'd been around a few decades before moving here. For twenty years they were a member of the Merchants and Manufacturers Association, but when they advertised for union labor to help build this new building on Seventh and Los Angeles, the MMA revoked their membership. So you've got some drama behind the history of this otherwise innocent-looking structure. It originally had an ornate, Baroque-type facade that was changed in the late fifties to the Art Deco style you see today. The horizontally rotating Deco-inspired windows face the street as well as an interior courtyard garden. Some of the lofts have balconies overlooking an interior light well. Some have murals. Every loft in this building has high ceilings. The rooftop getaway includes a BBQ and a driving range.
Officially an historic landmark since 2001, the Connell is five stories of Modern. It's named after businessman Michael J. Connell, the man credited as the founder of downtown L.A.'s fashion district since he's the one who kicked off the city's first garment and textile manufacturing construction boom in the early twentieth century. As the docent explained, the facade has "fluted piers that echo between paired windows with heavy concrete frame construction and are characteristic of the early 20th century industrial era." You could have one of three different street views. The Connell lofts are mostly shaped like big squares and, like the Brownstein-Louis, have Deco windows. Instead of a driving range and BBQ up top, though, you've got a b ball court.
The Bailey Hat building is so called because of what you're probably guessing. Yes, they were the original tenants here. Situated behind the Connell, the Bailey's basically a long rectangular building with lofts of mostly elongated shapes and sizes. One distinctive feature are the eight-foot steel-grid factory windows that were so designed for maximum light and ventilation. The docent said these were the original windows. Some lofts have concrete ceilings for those seeking an even more industrial look and feel. And on the roof? A pool and a spa.
While the Santee is the newest of the four loft buildings, it's still old enough to be historic. Like the Connell, it was declared a historic landmark in 2001. Unlike the lofts in the other buildings, the Santee lofts come with new kitchens, complete with granite counters and Bosch appliances. I can't remember if the other buildings' lofts had washer and dryer hookups, but the Santee's did. The windows, as the docent explained, are "divided light industrial." Select lofts have one or two alcoves for separate living areas. And like the other buildings, the Santee's exterior features heavy concrete-frame construction and ornamental details.
Besides walking around the hallways and the connected rooftops, the docent let us go into one of the lofts. I think it was in the Santee. For whatever reason, I thought it was a model and went ahead and opened the fridge. The docent was like, "Hey now!" Oops. Cool place, though. And I like the complex's small village look and feel, and how the residents are called Courtians.
That does it for an awesome day. I'm really glad I signed up for this walking tour. The vast majority of folks who go by or along Seventh have no idea of all this history. Nor do they appreciate the architecture and design. I should know. I'm one of them. But with the Conservancy's help, I'm trying to change that.
