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When
I told friends I’d planned to circumnavigate LA by subway,
they chuckled. “LA, California?” said one. “Good
luck.”
The
city's rep as a Mecca of freeways notwithstanding, I didn't fear
being handicapped there on foot. After all, Los Angeles once had
a proud transit system: at its prewar peak, the Pacific Electric
Railway's Red Cars spanned over 1100 track miles.
So
I gambled that Metro Rail's modern-day subway could get me around,
and set out to conquer car-crazy LA, sans automobile.
While
I found that LA's love affair with the auto continues wholeheartedly,
by utilizing Metro Rail’s three subway lines (Red, Blue and
Green) I was able to access top cultural attractions and hidden
gems across town.
As
a tourist, I found the system efficient, clean, and armed with an
$11 weekly pass, plenty cheap.
From
its groundbreaking in the early 1980s, however, Metro Rail has divided
Angelinos. Early praise for the system soured after construction
delays, massive cost overruns (topping $4.7 billion by June 2000),
and embarrassing gaffes such as 1995's notorious 300-foot sinkhole
along Hollywood Boulevard. Voters rejected further expansion in
1998 by approving a ballot measure that killed transit sales taxes,
effectively freezing development.
But
one unquestioned Metro Rail success has been its ambitious public
art program, Metro Art. During construction, Metro Rail allocated
0.5% of its costs for art projects in all the stations.
The
resulting series of murals, installations, and sculptures lend color
and culture to the routine of commute. Furthermore, Metro Art captures
the flavor and myths of Los Angeles neighborhoods, from North Hollywood
to South Central.
Public
art is essential to “those people indigenous to the art - the
community,” says San Francisco-based visual artist JoeSam.,
whose “Hide-n-Seek” illuminates the Imperial/Wilmington
Station. Oftentimes, it’s the sole outlet available.
“People
forget the chasm that exists between the fine art world and the
community,” he says.
Giant
figures of kids at play adorn freeway columns of the station, a
hub for the blue and green lines. Throughout the system, artists
pay homage to the history and legacy of the neighborhoods.
And
Metro Art has proven a hit: Popular docent-led walking tours have
a six-week waiting list.
In
the meantime, I had called Metro Rail (213-922-4278) for its free
self-guided Metro Art kit.
Deplaning
at LAX, I soon gathered one Metro Rail glitch – it doesn’t
run to the airport. The Green Line runs nearby, but oddly bypasses
the airport, hooking south to Redondo Beach (and earning its “Surfer
Line” moniker) instead.
So
I walked to the island, and hailed a shuttle to Santa Monica. After
dropping my bags, I hustled to Wilshire Boulevard to catch the 720
Rapido Bus.
When
I'd first viewed Metro Rail's system map, I'd noticed a glaring
discrepancy – no service to the West Side. Instead, an odd
fork of the Red Line down Wilshire stopped abruptly in Mid-City.
City
planners had intended to run the Red Line further west, but a 1985
methane gas explosion in the Fairfax District scuttled that agenda.
Studies revealed methane and hydrogen sulfide gas along the route,
and left engineers scrambling for an alternate path.
Eventually
they steered the line north, into the San Fernando Valley.
I
disembarked at the Wilshire/Western Station, where an open plaza
and steep, yellow escalators marked the subway's western terminus.
A steady trickle of riders moved about, multiethnic as in Richard
Wyatt's tile murals, "People Coming/People Going".
I noticed the lack of ticket gateways. Metro Rail operates barrier-free,
relying on the honor system (and, I later learned, LAPD patrols.)
The
Red Line, calling at Hollywood and Universal City, gets the bulk
of tourist travel. (It got the lion's share of the funding, too,
more than double the Blue and Green Lines combined.)
Studies
show Red Line passenger numbers steadily rising (an average of 150,025
weekday boardings in June 2001), though when I boarded I had my
choice of seats. I'd planned to shuttle along the system, hopping
on and off to view the art.
Looking
skyward at the Wilshire/Vermont station the "Los Angeles Seen",
mobiles by Peter Shire floated above the platform. Whimsical acrobats,
Korean hats, and Mexican crafts greeted passengers descending the
escalator.
Along
the Red Line, installations ranged from simple (Robert Millar's
existential "Questions" at Vermont/Santa Monica) to over-the-top
(Sheila Klein's unfolding "set within a box" at Hollywood/Highland.)
And
neighborhoods were duly represented: Michael Davis' sci-fi motif
evoked nearby Griffith Observatory (Vermont/Sunset); Margaret Garcia
told the history of Mexico's 1847 relinquishing of California at
Campo de Cahuenga (Universal City).
Metro
Art crescendos appropriately at Hollywood and Vine, where Gilbert
"Magu" Lujan lined the ceiling with film reels, installed
projectors, hand-painted tile, and sculpted hotrod themed benches.
Iconic
Hollywood images (Mann's Chinese Theatre, a limo, the Brown Derby
restaurant) stand street-side marking the station entrance.
Like
any good tourist, I walked Hollywood Boulevard, eager to welcome
in movietown's charms. Interpretive signs detailed the glory days,
and construction projects testified to the neighborhood's ongoing
revitalization.
Most
notably, the massive TrizecHahn development rising above the Hollywood/Highland
station will welcome back Oscar next year, when the Academy moves
its awards show to the new Kodak Theatre.
No
openings graced the renovated El Capitan and Egyptian Theaters that
evening, so I headed to Thai Town (Hollywood/Western) for dinner
before the long bus ride to the ocean.
Uniformed
officers patrolling the Hollywood/Vine Station checked my fast pass,
testing my Metro Rail honesty. Fines for gatejumpers start at $76,
they told me, with repeat offenders risking felony burglary charges.
A
glorious beach run the next morning reminded me why I stay in Santa
Monica. Smoothie in hand, I hopped an early bus to the Red Line,
which I took downtown to its end at Union Station.
Terry
Schoonhaven's mural "Traveler" welcomed Red Line riders
with its timescape of historical travelers (Carol Lombard, Pio Pico)
arriving in LA.
Completed
in 1939 to the tune of $11 million, Union Station is an architectural
jewel, a Spanish Colonial design with soaring arches that lead to
bronze Art Deco chandeliers above an inlaid marble concourse.
The
last of the great western train stations, Union Station calls up
the golden age of rail travel; its weathered brown and sepia tones
make it a favorite location of filmmakers.
I snacked at Union Bagel, then walked out to Olvera Street, and
LA's birthplace. El Pueblo de Los Angeles featured shops and vintage
shade trees standing where LA's original eleven families settled
in 1781.
Advertisements
throughout Metro Rail directed traffic toward local attractions
like Olvera Street.
At
Pershing Square I gazed up at the Angels Flight funicular railway
(closed since a fatal accident last February); by the Civic Center
I wandered Little Tokyo and tried recalling movie settings outside
LA City Hall.
At
7th Street/Metro Center, I switched to the electric trolleys of
the Blue Line, descending like the passengers in Roberto Gil de
Montes' allegorical triptych "Heaven and Earth." We surfaced
outside the postmodern Staples Center, headed south to Long Beach.
The
landscape grew decidedly more urban. Hollywood's Hills receded,
and low coastal clouds signaled water ahead.
Approaching
103rd Street, my next destination climbed into focus: the rising
spires of Simon Rodia's folk art masterpiece, Watts Towers.
Rodia
spent 33 years constructing his towers, working alone with simple
tools and no blueprints. He used concrete, steel bars, and a mosaic
of found objects, pottery shards, glass, and seashells to erect
15 spires and buildings, the tallest of which crested at 99.5 feet.
Long
a Red Car transit hub, the 103rd Street Station honored its predecessors
with Robert Salas' "Blue Line Totems in Red," a series
of platform columns adorned with classic shapes from conductor's
bygone ticket punches.
At
the next stop, Imperial/Wilmington, I inspected JoeSam.’s figures.
Local school kids had been active in designing “Hide-n-Seek”,
he said, and many figures represent actual area kids.
“The
kids from South Central were all involved,” says JoeSam. “And
they loved it.”
I pushed on to Long Beach, where I inspected the subway platforms
as the Blue Line looped through downtown, then fell asleep as the
train clacked 22 miles back to LA.
I
woke for a quick stop at the Museum of Neon Art (Pico Station),
where vintage signs and neon odes hearkened the dawn of LA car culture.
Riding
back to Santa Monica, I pictured old LA, crawling with Red Cars.
While Metro Rail provides a welcome respite from the freeways, I
couldn’t help but wonder while waiting on the bus how it could
have been, if not for the methane gas.
–
Jay Cooke is a San Francisco-based travel, food, and culture writer.
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