Los Angeles is real. I know; I’ve seen it. But it doesn’t seem real. It is bigger than real. The place of movie stars and the 4-car family. Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Mulholland Drive, Sunset Strip, Malibu, South Central, Disneyland, Charles Manson, Universal Studios, and the Beach Boys. Iconic names and images that shaped my life. That’s LA.
It is impossibly big. We went to LA a few weeks back. Our primary destination was Hollywood and the trip was roughly two hours: one hour to get to the outskirts of LA and one hour to drive through it. Hollywood is just north of downtown LA, so we got a quick glimpse of what passes for downtown as we neared Hollywood. Central LA is more recognizable as a city now than it was many years ago when I last visited. Then the only skyscrapers were on Wilshire Boulevard, west of downtown. Now the tall buildings have bled into the central city, but it still looks like a half-hearted attempt at being a metropolis.
Hollywood has changed, too, I suppose, but the changes are not so dramatic. The buildings are still minimalistic, both in stature and architecture. No one goes to Hollywood to see the structures, with the possible exception of Graumann’s Chinese Theater (now the TCL Chinese Theater – another Hollywood change) and the Capitol Records building.
Capitol Records building
Even the famous places are nondescript. The Roxy, perhaps the most famous rock club in America – the place where Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Guns ‘N Roses got their starts – is a plain black concrete building that looks like it could be a warehouse. Pink’s Hot Dogs, “a Hollywood Legend since 1939,” looks like a small McDonald’s, but with a longer line of customers.
Graumann’s/TCL Chinese Theater
The Roxy
What Hollywood does have, in spades, in panache. It has style. It’s got game. Hollywood Boulevard is both tacky and underwhelming, but it is still a great place to sit and watch people go by. You can still see Superfly and all kinds of actress wannabees. Well-groomed people walking well-groomed dogs. Wall-to-wall Mercedeses and BMWs. And a few Maseratis zig-zagging between the multitude of minibuses carrying tourists to see the homes of the stars.
We did that on our second day there. Jett, me and the two dogs. Yes, our pups have now seen not only the Atlantic and the Pacific, but also where Michael Jackson died. They will be the envy of the dog park.
Jett and Grace looking for stars
Passing Michael Jackson’s last home
Cha-Cha assisting the driver
The iconic sign
I will save you the suspense and tell you straight up that we didn’t see any movie stars. The closest we came was watching a car turn into Tom Cruise’s driveway. But it wasn’t Tom, or even Katie wielding an ax. Probably just some Scientology wonk coming to collect the tithe.
The first day was largely devoted to the Walk of Fame and driving down Sunset Boulevard and Rodeo Drive. We got to Venice Beach, but the usual heavy spring fog was blanketing the coast, so the rollerbladers in hot pants were absent. The Santa Monica pier was visible, but barely. The multi-million-dollar homes along Malibu Beach looked pretty dreary. But when we turned inland again, to go to our dog-friendly Motel 6 in Canoga Park, the sun broke through once we got a mile from the coast.
Maserati on Rodeo Drive
The Beverly Hilton
Cha-Cha on the Walk of Fame
Entering 90210
The night at the Motel 6 was (thankfully) uneventful, despite being in a Hispanic part of town with some “interesting” characters on the streets nearby. Fortunately I was protected by two fierce dogs when I took them for their walks.
The second day was mostly the tour of the move stars’ homes, with dinner at Juicy Burger. Yes, the dogs split a burger.
The tour passed the homes of many famous people – too many to remember. Mostly what is left is a lot of pictures of fortified gates with the promise of someone notable on the other side.
Anonymous gate
Our tour guide was informative and seemed pretty invested in finding someone for us to ogle at. But whether it was because he failed at that or because everyone was annoyed at Cha-Cha’s hair flying everywhere, he got stiffed on tips: we were the only ones in the bus who tipped him. But we gave him $20.
Who knows… maybe someday he will be a star and will remember us. Anything is possible in Hollywood.