Comment
Rate
The Peaks and Pitfalls of Pershing Square
 |
| The current Pershing Square, unveiled in 1994, is dominated by purples and yellows. The space first christened La Plaza Abaja in 1866 was later named Los Angeles Park, St. VincentŐs Park, Sixth Street Park and Central Park. Photo by Gary Leonard. |
After 140 Years, the Only Consistency in Downtown's Largest Park Is Change
by Max Pierce
Wanted in Downtown Los Angeles: a green space connecting the arts, retail and lodging, where hundreds, no, thousands, can gather daily.
While it sounds like a 2006 plea for the civic park element of the Grand Avenue plan, it's also an oft-repeated mantra for Pershing Square. Part of Los Angeles since its pueblo days, no other public area epitomizes the evolution of the city - good and bad. Reinvented to target a Civic Center ideal in 1994, 1984, 1951, and backward to 1866, it's sometimes revered, and often reviled.
The five-acre plot was known merely as Block 15 when surveyed in 1849. Cristobal Aguilar, the city's last Latino mayor until 2005, declared the area a public square in 1866 and christened it La Plaza Abaja. Possibly bowing to an increasing Anglo influence, this name gave way to Los Angeles Park; St. Vincent's Park; and Sixth Street Park. In the 1890s, it was re-landscaped and re-named Central Park, a moniker bemoaned by Angelenos who felt the city was imitating New York.
Around the turn of the 20th century, concerns rose over the crowds who loitered near the bandstand talking politics and religion. The suggestion was that these people, referred to in the press as "wind-jammers," be excluded from the park. Ideally, they would be "moved elsewhere," an attitude that for decades warped the city's idyllic vision for the park.
Increased complaints over the wind-jammers prompted a massive redesign of the grounds by John Parkinson in 1910. Out went the bandstand and in went symmetrically laid sidewalks, ornamental lighting and a spectacular fountain. In 1918, Central Park became Pershing Square, after John J. Pershing, the commander of the American forces in Europe, A Doughboy monument was added in 1924. In 1932, a statue of Beethoven was erected in tribute to Los Angeles Philharmonic founder William Andrews Clark. A cannon from the U.S.S. Constitution, or "Old Ironsides," joined the mix in 1935.
Highs and Lows
Beyond the signature banana trees and palms of the square, landmarks arose that infused it with life: the Philharmonic Auditorium, where Enrico Caruso sang and the Ballet Russe danced; the Paramount Theater, Downtown's largest movie palace; the Biltmore Hotel and the Subway Terminal Building (recently reborn as housing complex Metro 417). Complementing the retail mecca on Broadway, Sixth Street between Hill and Hope streets was called Bookseller's Row, anchored by, among others, Angeleno favorite Fowler Brothers at the east end and literary light Jake Zeitlin to the west.
The post-World War II atmosphere was ripe with suspicion and fear. The threat of nuclear attack may have had some part in the push to construct a parking garage under Pershing Square, a facility designed to serve double duty as a bomb shelter. With the park ripped up, city planners conspired to revamp the landscape again. This was a deliberate attempt to eliminate any potential Communist meeting spot and once and for all to drive "displaced persons," as they were now known, out of the area.
The Cold War-era Pershing Square, designed by Stiles O. Clements, was little more than a grass roof of a three-level garage. With walking access hindered by car ramps, the square became an island in the city. The public debates disappeared and there were fewer lunchtime strollers and families. The city's least fortunate, however, found this new isolation ideal, and hunkered down. The renovation had backfired spectacularly.
In 1963, John Rechy's groundbreaking novel City of Night painted a picture of Pershing Square as a gay hustler rendezvous, an image that likely spun the heads of local business and political figures. While not citing Rechy's book, civic leaders scrambled to cleanse the park of undesirables, ripping out more shrubs and trees. The resulting space had all the warmth of a post-season football field.
Trying Every Trend
Over the next two decades, the city tried every cultural trend from mimes to folk dancers, but nothing clicked. The problem was that while Downtown continued, touchstones changed. The Subway Terminal Building lost its subway system and, with it, all the people who once walked from the station to their offices. The Paramount Theater was demolished and the Philharmonic traded up to the Music Center. The Biltmore went into a decline. Bookseller's Row became Airliner Row, the simple buildings leveled for skyscrapers with street level airline ticket offices that closed shop at 5 p.m. and on weekends.
But a turnaround, or at least a major attempt at one, was in store. With private donations and funding from the Community Redevelopment Agency, Pershing Square got a breath of life when Los Angeles was awarded the 1984 Olympic Games. The square was spruced up, but when the international guests left, so did the amenities. Later on, when the Biltmore undertook a restoration that put it back on top, its lobby moved from Olive Street to Grand Avenue. Hotel officials cited the embarrassment of Pershing Square as a primary factor.
Plows plundered the park with another re-engineering in 1994. No local architects were hired. Instead, Mexico City's Ricardo Legorreta and Laurie Olin of Philadelphia designed a space with vibrant hues and a Mexican plaza influence. The result was either a love-it or hate-it contemporary oasis, with most people feeling the latter.
Now, the glorious monuments of yesterday are clumped together in a forlorn corner, recalling tombstones rather than tributes. At lunchtime a handful of people brown bag it by the fountain. Adding insult to injury, the park lost a beloved local tenant last year when the city decided it could not help fund a tradition of free nighttime summer Shakespeare in the park. Instead, producer Shakespeare Festival/LA moved the event to the plaza of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.
At the same time, things are not entirely bleak. A winter ice rink hosted by the Los Angeles Kings is a qualified success, and a June through September music series draws crowds, including a curious freeform dancer known as Eagle. The park has been outfitted with wireless Internet technology. But unchanged is the "other" crowd, be they wind-jammers, displaced persons or the homeless. Often relegated to one section of the park, their collective silence cannot be ignored.
With the influx of lofts and increasing pedestrian activity, Pershing Square is poised for another renaissance, but it will require a vision that embraces community, not exclusion. In a town constantly trading new for newer, Pershing Square, by turns a precious gem or a millstone around the city's neck, endures.
Max Pierce can be reached at max@maxpierce.com.
While Pershing Square has endured through the years, much around it has changed. Here's a guide to past and present landmarks:
The Square's oldest structure is the 1908 Pacific Mutual Building at Sixth and Olive streets. Remodeled in 1936, it's overshadowed by the grander 1921 annex, which houses the offices of the Los Angeles Conservancy. Pershing Square is incorporated into the Conservancy's Saturday morning Historic Core walking tour.
Bookseller's Row stretched from approximately Hope to Hill streets along Sixth Street. Fowler Brothers at 414 W. Sixth St. is now A-Z Jewelry Tools. Jake Zeitlin was at 614 W. Sixth St. The last survivor of this retail district, having outlasted even the airline ticket office era, is the treasured Caravan Book Shop on Grand Avenue, just north of Sixth Street.
The Biltmore, opened in 1923, remains an elegant icon. The former lobby fronting Pershing Square is now called the Rendezvous Court. Afternoon tea is served daily from 2 to 5 p.m.
The 1906 Philharmonic Auditorium was demolished in 1985 for a project that was never built. A parking lot is on the site.
The Subway Terminal Building on Hill Street is now the Metro 417 apartments.
The former Title Guarantee and Trust Building at Fifth and Hill streets, the only Art Deco building on the square, is being converted into lofts.
The International Jewelry Center sits atop the location of the Paramount Theater.
page 15, 5/1/2006
© Los Angeles Downtown News. Reprinting items retrieved from the archives are for personal use only. They may not be reproduced or retransmitted without permission of the Los Angeles Downtown News. If you would like to redistribute anything from the Los Angeles Downtown News Archives, please call our permissions department at (213) 481-1448.
While it sounds like a 2006 plea for the civic park element of the Grand Avenue plan, it's also an oft-repeated mantra for Pershing Square. Part of Los Angeles since its pueblo days, no other public area epitomizes the evolution of the city - good and bad. Reinvented to target a Civic Center ideal in 1994, 1984, 1951, and backward to 1866, it's sometimes revered, and often reviled.
The five-acre plot was known merely as Block 15 when surveyed in 1849. Cristobal Aguilar, the city's last Latino mayor until 2005, declared the area a public square in 1866 and christened it La Plaza Abaja. Possibly bowing to an increasing Anglo influence, this name gave way to Los Angeles Park; St. Vincent's Park; and Sixth Street Park. In the 1890s, it was re-landscaped and re-named Central Park, a moniker bemoaned by Angelenos who felt the city was imitating New York.
Around the turn of the 20th century, concerns rose over the crowds who loitered near the bandstand talking politics and religion. The suggestion was that these people, referred to in the press as "wind-jammers," be excluded from the park. Ideally, they would be "moved elsewhere," an attitude that for decades warped the city's idyllic vision for the park.
Increased complaints over the wind-jammers prompted a massive redesign of the grounds by John Parkinson in 1910. Out went the bandstand and in went symmetrically laid sidewalks, ornamental lighting and a spectacular fountain. In 1918, Central Park became Pershing Square, after John J. Pershing, the commander of the American forces in Europe, A Doughboy monument was added in 1924. In 1932, a statue of Beethoven was erected in tribute to Los Angeles Philharmonic founder William Andrews Clark. A cannon from the U.S.S. Constitution, or "Old Ironsides," joined the mix in 1935.
Beyond the signature banana trees and palms of the square, landmarks arose that infused it with life: the Philharmonic Auditorium, where Enrico Caruso sang and the Ballet Russe danced; the Paramount Theater, Downtown's largest movie palace; the Biltmore Hotel and the Subway Terminal Building (recently reborn as housing complex Metro 417). Complementing the retail mecca on Broadway, Sixth Street between Hill and Hope streets was called Bookseller's Row, anchored by, among others, Angeleno favorite Fowler Brothers at the east end and literary light Jake Zeitlin to the west.
The post-World War II atmosphere was ripe with suspicion and fear. The threat of nuclear attack may have had some part in the push to construct a parking garage under Pershing Square, a facility designed to serve double duty as a bomb shelter. With the park ripped up, city planners conspired to revamp the landscape again. This was a deliberate attempt to eliminate any potential Communist meeting spot and once and for all to drive "displaced persons," as they were now known, out of the area.
The Cold War-era Pershing Square, designed by Stiles O. Clements, was little more than a grass roof of a three-level garage. With walking access hindered by car ramps, the square became an island in the city. The public debates disappeared and there were fewer lunchtime strollers and families. The city's least fortunate, however, found this new isolation ideal, and hunkered down. The renovation had backfired spectacularly.
In 1963, John Rechy's groundbreaking novel City of Night painted a picture of Pershing Square as a gay hustler rendezvous, an image that likely spun the heads of local business and political figures. While not citing Rechy's book, civic leaders scrambled to cleanse the park of undesirables, ripping out more shrubs and trees. The resulting space had all the warmth of a post-season football field.
Over the next two decades, the city tried every cultural trend from mimes to folk dancers, but nothing clicked. The problem was that while Downtown continued, touchstones changed. The Subway Terminal Building lost its subway system and, with it, all the people who once walked from the station to their offices. The Paramount Theater was demolished and the Philharmonic traded up to the Music Center. The Biltmore went into a decline. Bookseller's Row became Airliner Row, the simple buildings leveled for skyscrapers with street level airline ticket offices that closed shop at 5 p.m. and on weekends.
But a turnaround, or at least a major attempt at one, was in store. With private donations and funding from the Community Redevelopment Agency, Pershing Square got a breath of life when Los Angeles was awarded the 1984 Olympic Games. The square was spruced up, but when the international guests left, so did the amenities. Later on, when the Biltmore undertook a restoration that put it back on top, its lobby moved from Olive Street to Grand Avenue. Hotel officials cited the embarrassment of Pershing Square as a primary factor.
Plows plundered the park with another re-engineering in 1994. No local architects were hired. Instead, Mexico City's Ricardo Legorreta and Laurie Olin of Philadelphia designed a space with vibrant hues and a Mexican plaza influence. The result was either a love-it or hate-it contemporary oasis, with most people feeling the latter.
Now, the glorious monuments of yesterday are clumped together in a forlorn corner, recalling tombstones rather than tributes. At lunchtime a handful of people brown bag it by the fountain. Adding insult to injury, the park lost a beloved local tenant last year when the city decided it could not help fund a tradition of free nighttime summer Shakespeare in the park. Instead, producer Shakespeare Festival/LA moved the event to the plaza of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.
At the same time, things are not entirely bleak. A winter ice rink hosted by the Los Angeles Kings is a qualified success, and a June through September music series draws crowds, including a curious freeform dancer known as Eagle. The park has been outfitted with wireless Internet technology. But unchanged is the "other" crowd, be they wind-jammers, displaced persons or the homeless. Often relegated to one section of the park, their collective silence cannot be ignored.
With the influx of lofts and increasing pedestrian activity, Pershing Square is poised for another renaissance, but it will require a vision that embraces community, not exclusion. In a town constantly trading new for newer, Pershing Square, by turns a precious gem or a millstone around the city's neck, endures.
Max Pierce can be reached at max@maxpierce.com.
Around the Square
A Guide to Landmarks Here and Gone
by Max PierceWhile Pershing Square has endured through the years, much around it has changed. Here's a guide to past and present landmarks:
page 15, 5/1/2006
© Los Angeles Downtown News. Reprinting items retrieved from the archives are for personal use only. They may not be reproduced or retransmitted without permission of the Los Angeles Downtown News. If you would like to redistribute anything from the Los Angeles Downtown News Archives, please call our permissions department at (213) 481-1448.
 |
 |
|
| MTA Cooking With Gas | Stirring the Brew |
Article Rating
Reader Comments
The following are comments from the readers. In no way do they represent the view of ladowntownnews.com.
You must register with a valid email to post comments. Only your Member ID will be posted with the comments.
Registered users sign in here: |
Become a Registered User |
Popular Searches
