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We've already driven the next mile of Sunset, and we know that,
except for the
Beverly Hills Hotel, it's more of
the same: endless hedges and fences with the super-rich slumbering
peacefully in their mansions. Boring.
So we decided to take a side trip down the world-famous
Rodeo Drive. It's less than a mile
long, and consists of four very long residential blocks, then four
short commercial blocks before it runs into Wilshire Boulevard at
the
Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel. It's
those last four blocks that everybody talks about ..
We parked by
Will Rogers Memorial Park, which is
a little triangle with so many different species of plant that it
could qualify as a mini botanical garden. (Will
Rogers was once honorary mayor of
BH.) There is a pool with gigantic
koi in it, and a little gurgling fountain. There were two guys
catching some rays, and a couple other walkers. Other than that, it
seemed unused. And why wouldn't it be? Unless you drive in here from
somewhere else, you've almost certainly got better gardens on your
own grounds, no need to go to the park and mix with the
proles.
One of the best things about the flatlands of Beverly Hills (which
is the less desirable real estate; the really pricey stuff is north
of Sunset) is the way the streets gently curve. They are very wide
streets, and if they were straight you could see for miles and I
think it might get a little oppressive. Curving the grid like that
means you are always gradually discovering new vistas.
Unlike the places on Sunset, most of these houses are not walled off
from the street. Most of them are fenced and gated, naturally, but
some are not, and the fences tend to be wrought iron, surrounded
with plants intended to please the eye rather than block the view,
and lower shrubs. We gawked at some of the homes ... and shook our
heads at a few. Location, right? There are a fair number of places
that would go for no more than 2, maybe 3 hundred grand somewhere
else. But there is no house here that would sell for less than a
million, many a lot more than that. Some are just awful, and some
are delightful, warm and welcoming. There is a good percentage of
California Mission style structures, with red tile roof and faux
adobe. Those tend to be my favorites. Somehow and Olde English
half-timbered dwelling just doesn't look right with hibiscus and
banana and palm trees surrounding it. Don't care for the Tara/White
House/Federal look, either.
There was one house that would have been attention-getting anywhere,
except maybe Barcelona. It was certainly inspired by the wonderful
madman
Antonio Gaudi, whose buildings
often seem to be made of melting wax. He was the maniac behind the
still-unfinished
Sagrada Familia basilica
which I hope to visit before I die.
At Santa Monica we passed the All Saints Episcopal Church, where the
wedding scene in Blake Edwards'
10 was filmed.
Then we were in the heart of conspicuous consumption.
Lamborghinis,
Bentleys,
Maseratis
on the street (I'd never seen two red
Ferraris parked on the same block),
mostly tourists on the sidewalks. The shops are mostly glass, but
don't seem inviting. Inside, there will be a dozen blouses on a
rack, a small stack of folded pants, a dozen handbags ... and that's
it. Most of them look half empty. Don't want that crowded Wal-Mart
look, do we? Jewelers with huge rocks and
Movados
and Rolexes
in the windows. No prices; like they say, if you have to ask ...
It was all strangely unimpressive. There was nothing there I wanted
to buy, even if I had the money. Most of it was sterile and white,
with too much glass. You walk down it once, and unless you're really
into ogling super-expensive crap, unless you're actually in the
market for $1000 sneakers or $5000 jeans, you don't feel the urge to
walk back.
The only store we entered was
Bang & Olufsen. I've been in love
with their wildly overpriced but always visually stunning gadgets
for a long time now, and at least electronics is something I know a
little bit about, unlike jewels and fashion.
One of Frank
Lloyd Wright's least impressive buildings is there, too.
It is a winding ramp with a few shops and offices, with a spire that
is vaguely reminiscent of his
Marin County Civic Center in
San Rafael. I understand that
considerable changes were made to the building by a previous tenant,
so maybe the original was better ... but I tend to believe that even
a genius has off days. I almost banged my head on one Wright
trademark, though. He made the doorways in his houses about 6' 4"
high, because he was a short little prick. Since I'm 6' 5", you can
imagine my opinion of him dropped considerably when I learned that.
Since then I've read that he was a miserable human being ... not
that it matters. Genius is genius. The work lives, long after the
bastard is dead.
There's a little side street called Rodeo Place that I don't
remember from my earlier visits. It's tricked out to look like a
European alleyway, with false storefronts. One has two guards in red
suits like the ones at
Buckingham Palace or the
Tower of London, unmoving, so at first you're not sure
they're real. What a crappy job! Ornaments for rich nabobs and
gawking tourists, and you aren't permitted to speak or move or
smile. I hope they get paid well, but I suspect they don't.
I checked the posted menu at the sidewalk cafe. You could get a
"regular" hamburger for $28. If you wanted it with
truffles it was $38. Bring on the
truffles, my man, and don't spare the caviar!
Then at the end of the street, the Regent Beverly Wilshire. Of all
the fancy hotels I stayed at during my Hollywood nightmare, I liked
the BW the best. At the time it was run by someone called
Hernando Courtright, and I had one
of the best and most expensive meals of my life in the restaurant.
The tab was over $150 for two. All on the studio's tab, naturally. I
have to admit, there were some good things about
working down here.
Everybody remembers it as the hotel in
Pretty Woman. Lots of
people want to stay in that suite, which doesn't exist; it was built
on a sound stage. Right now the BW is undergoing a facelift. The
high-end restaurant, the merely outrageously expensive restaurant,
and the underground bar are all being renovated. I used to go down
to the bar many nights. They had a good piano player and a local
crowd, no tourists, maybe because it's not easy to find.
Martin Balsam was in there almost
every night, knocking them back, not talking to anybody but the
bartender. At first I thought he was looking to pick somebody
up—gay? I don't know—but he just sat there.
When it was built it was the tallest structure in Los Angeles, if
you can believe that. And it was a long way from anywhere anyone
wanted to be. All the nightclubs were up on Sunset. But
Douglas Fairbanks and
Mary Pickford started hanging
around, and soon it was hot, and it's stayed that way to this day.
There are many legends and weird stories associated with the BW,
none to weird to me as that of
Warren Beatty, who apparently
stayed in one suite for 11 years.
Come to think of it, if I had the money to afford it, I wouldn't
mind living in a luxury hotel. No cooking, no cleaning, no laundry
... why not?
We decided to go over a block and return on Beverly Drive. It's a
bit more down-to-earth over there, with upscale chain stores and
some restaurants that are quite reasonable. We ate a gigantic plate
of nachos at
Sharky's, a Cahleefornia Mexican
franchise. Cheap, and good, and more than we could eat.
Beverly was more of the same when it came to houses, though a few of
them were in desperate need of a coat of paint. I imagine there are
people living in million-dollar houses who are out of work, or
inherited them without a lot of money, and have a hard time just
paying the property taxes. Of course, if it's paid for, the lot
alone will bring in a cool million ...
May 10, 2006