Livign L. A.

Living L.A.

by G. S. Morey

Angelenos live under the glaring, simplifying light romanticized by Hockney and Hollywood. The city itself grew up under the pressure of regulated building heights, strapped down and spread out by bands of asphalt. And in such an environment grew, like a stunted disfigured thing, a peculiar culture and a way of life, and the people who are born, live and work in this place step out each morning, squint against the sun and frown, "It's not so bad. What is everyone complaining about?"

Whenever we natives talk about L.A. to outsiders, we usually mean the Los Angeles that absorbs 2 counties and emvelopes dozens of incorporated cities. Each "city" is roughly equivalent to, say, a borough in New York in that it is still part of the city and helps define it.

To me, L.A. has always been a town only a native could truly love. I should know: I am one. Born in the heart of "The Valley," growing up on its edge, I looked forward to the communal commute where you sat in your car on the freeway with others of your tribe and shared understanding glances through the windshield with them. Here was something you could depend on. You knew what direction everyone faced.

Back then, as now, buildings were comfortingly similar and reflected the harsh sun in sharp, predictable ways; their shadows always carved yawning gashes in the streets. From your car, in the winter, you watched the cool white sun pull 2-D strings of squares along the street. And in the summer the oven-hot afternoon light pushed the city into terra-cotta mud.

L.A. fostered a sense of intrepidness in its citizens. Independence. You against the elements, against the mercury streets in the summer sun. Steely-eyed, hard-jawed men and women survived here.

And survivors need to eat. Sure they do. Back then as today there was a spaghetti joint or coffee shop down the block. You could drive there in a minute. Pick up Chinese on the way home if you're tired of meatloaf.

3rd Street Want pictures? Look at old episodes of "Adam 12" or "Emergency" or "Dragnet" from the 60's and 70's. That's L.A. 1,000+ square miles of exactly that.

The average Angeleno, whether hailing from East L.A., West Covina, South Gate, or North Ranch, knows these facts instinctively. Doesn't even need to say it. That's why so many tourists' silvery dreams are left bleaching-bone dead on the corner of 8th and Figueroa. No one ever bothered to yell out a warning from the window of their car on their way home: "P.S. Disneyland is a 45 minute drive from the Hollywood sign." Sorry. And stunned Euro youths ride heaving RTD buses down Sunset wondering what happened.

Thank God there are 10 million people in L.A. Thank God for 30 years of cruising its streets. (Here's where I get to the point), Because what the average native does not know, and what 30 years helped define for me nearly by accident, is a patch of vibrant city in an area where the "average" Angeleno would never expect to look. And it is in the most unexpected place--right under our noses, right in the center of L.A.

Yes, yes, I know. The city was officially established long before the 20th century. But by New York, Paris, London standards it was a city only in name.

Romantic, isn't it? In exactly the place everyone would want it to be, in a way any screen writer would envy, the City of Los Angeles grew up while no one paid attention. A fully mature municipality? Not yet. After all, it is a city of the 20th century. But in a roughly 10 square mile area, in the middle of all that banality, is a City to explore. A City to absorb and learn from. A City that will grow you.

So, I want to lead you through this place that exists roughly in the space from downtown to the beach, from Sunset Blvd. to the Santa Monica freeway. Through the streets that define it--the streets where we live when we are not at home.

I can give you a native's perspective. Be one of the few that gets out of her car, grabs you by the arm, and says, "Do you see that? That classic Streamline Moderne was once a department store. Now it's the latest addition to Museum Row and has a cute park in back. Now, here's a bus token, let's get lunch. I know where."

100 square miles is not a small place. This will take some time. But as any good project manager will tell you, if you break a daunting task into its component parts, and address them one at a time, you'll get through it. We'll look at shops, at restaurants, at places to go, at things to do. I'll show you how to get there from here and why you should bother.

Join me for the journey, starting in October, 2001, here on the Los Angeles City Guide page of New Colonist. And bring your appetite!

Text and photo of 3rd St. by G. S. Morey. You can reach her at www.ginamorey.com.
Photo of the author by Richard Risemberg.