continuity of parks

Wake Held for Old Building
(our people on the scene)

The occasion: the razing of Los Angeles' "legendary" Ambassador Hotel--legendary above all for the list of Hollywood personalities and other celebrated figures (some remembered to this day) who had once upon a time patronized the place and been photographed there; and for the Cocoanut Grove night club, the skeleton of which was all that remained standing that crisp Thursday evening in early February, spot-lit now by arc lights for the benefit of the bloggers and press photographers; and of course the hotel kitchen (gone) wherein, on June 5, 1968, Senator Robert Kennedy was shot by a young Palestinian named Sirhan B. Sirhan. According to one unverified source, Mr. Sirhan was, nearly forty years later, still alive and well-preserved in the California State Penitentiary at Corcoran.

Under the direction of former Colorado Governor turned LAUSD Superintendent, Roy Romer (is that a step up?), the "historic landmark," built in 1921, shuttered in 1989, for several years thereafter one of the busiest movie and television filming locations in Los Angeles, briefly owned and turned over by Donald Trump, had now been nearly cleared-off in order to make way for the construction of a brand new mega-school on the site. Meanwhile, across the street at the also-venerable but now considerably more vibrant HMS Bounty, with spillover into the adjoining Gaylord Apartments' lobby, much bourbon, finger foods and other substances were consumed courtesy of the LA Conservancy (the whiskey served with copious quantities of ice made from electricity and a pleasant blend of the Colorado, Sacramento and Owens rivers, water and power both courtesy of the LADWP, which organization may in fact represent the largest land conservation entity outside the Federal Government).

The issue had somehow, somewhere along the line, managed to get framed in a way that did not favor the Ambassador: schools vs. architectural preservation; children (the future) vs. history. We had read on an excellent and most relevant blog that the Kennedy family was concerned that pieces of the hotel's kitchen might show up for sale on eBay, which apparently they already had. A cursory search by our investigators brought up a trove of postcards, autographed photos, bygone dinner menus, swizzle sticks, ashtrays, bowls, coffee mugs, and even "a presentation card containing a fragment from a rare piano key." For this last item the opening bid was $2. Shipping to anywhere in the US from a location in Texas was set at a flat rate of $5.75.

"While the strip malls are left intact," lamented the first of the evening's speakers. This may have been the same gentleman who, by way of explaining how the idea had come to him to hold a wake for a building, went on to develop for those gathered there a very complex analogy in which, at first, "a building is like a person," but then, upon reflection, "buildings are not people." Meanwhile a board member from the conservancy, a self-proclaimed historian, as in one of those fellows whose day job is to help developers secure tax incentives by having certain properties and features thereon declared officially and legally "historic," chatted with two of our more diligent correspondents. The fellow seemed really quite broken-hearted over the whole affair. Against that lumbering monolith, the School District, it had been, he explained, a long, losing battle. "They were going to do whatever they wanted to do," he said. For the duration of the festivities, until he bid us a mournful and boozy goodbye, he kept himself mostly on a stool near the service bar.

Onetime movie star and recent cover girl for Architectural Digest, Diane Keaton, before an array of popping cameras, blamed the "apathy" of the local news media for failing to inspire a "passive and complacent" public. One had the feeling she was trying to call up tears.

Supt. Romer did not seem to be in attendance. Our people didn't spot him, anyway. It must be said, he missed a good party. One of the project managers on the demolition (or perhaps the only one; we haven't yet had time to follow up with her) seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She drew smiles from a certain percentage of the audience closest to her—with her open heckling of Ms. Keaton and of the more nostalgic of the speakers ("where's the money, bitch?"), and with her descriptions of mushrooms growing in the carpets of the old hotel. The place was cool, she said, sure--there was something about it--but, she added not-so-confidentially, "it wasn't worth saving."

At a booth near the back of the bar a dignified young woman and her middle-aged son, the latter now proudly working for Paramount Pictures, were selling (or perhaps they were merely showing, as in curating) a series of "historic" black and white prints from the hotel's "heyday," mostly 8 x 10's of themselves, much younger then, standing beside erstwhile celebrities. The only personality our correspondents managed to recognize in the photo spread was Andy Griffith. He looked very tall standing next to the woman. Former Ambassador PR manager, Margaret Burk, was also there, holding court in another booth, by all appearances doing a brisk trade in discounted and autographed copies of her long out-of-print book, Are the Stars Out Tonight?

From a piece posted the following morning by another local blogger:

The loveliest tribute came from Carlyn Frank Benjamin - daughter of one of the Ambassador's first caretakers, and a 16-year resident of the hotel from the time it opened in 1921: [re: the hotel] "I'd always hoped the old girl would put on some new clothes and some comfortable shoes and some rose-scented moisturizing lotion, and that she could have had a new lease on life." ...And then she conjured the image of the Ambassador's ghosts rising up, filtering up through the debris and inspiring the LAUSD students who will occupy the school soon to be built on the site.

Alas. Ciao bella. Thanks for the beverages; thanks for the meatballs.