Farewell to the Ambassador Hotel

The Ambassador Hotel, a Los Angeles landmark constructed in 1921, is no more.

Mike Schneider, one of L.A.'s most respected bloggers, has been following the story of the hotel's demise at The Ambassador's Last Stand. On Monday, he broke the news that the demolition of the hotel was all but complete. I enjoy a personal connection to this sad story, as a few years ago I lived only a few hundred feet away from The Ambassador and could see the grand hotel from my bedroom window.

I've long felt that if I could live in Los Angeles in any historical era, it would be the 1920's. The phenomenal growth of Southern California took on an unprecedented pace at that time, and the optimism and exuberance of those years must have been palpable. Los Angeles, in particular, had begun to loom large on the national stage in the 1920's, as it represented an innovative urban form and lifestyle that would eventually be embraced and replicated in cities across the country, and eventually, the world. The Ambassador represented that magnificent era in all its glory.

By 1921, it was clear that Los Angeles would become a great metropolis totally different from those Americans were familiar with. Unlike the cities of the East Coast and Chicago, it was taking on a horizontal form much less than a vertical one, as its neighborhoods sprawled out further into the abundant countryside surrounding it. Angelenos embraced the automobile with unrivaled enthusiasm, and cars became the means to the favored horizontal form. Downtown, while still the undisputable center of the metropolis, did not represent the future of Los Angeles, but its past.

The future of Los Angeles was Wilshire Boulevard, a magnificent thoroughfare that began in Downtown and ran to the Pacific Ocean in Santa Monica. It was there that the city's new urban form was perfected, tied to automobiles rather than streetcars and pedestrians. The Ambassador Hotel was one of the first large investments that helped to move the vitality of the burgenoning city away from its core. Within the decade, it would be joined by the nearby Bullock's Wilshire, the first large department store outside of Downtown; the die was cast.

The success and prestige of The Ambassador grew as the 1920's progressed and lasted well into the years after World War II. Aside from its significance to the "linear core" developing along Wilshire Boulevard, it was linked to another unprecedented development that would forever distinguish Los Angeles: the rise of the motion picture industry. The Ambassador became a favored haunt of a budding crop of celebrities, as did The Brown Derby restaurant across the street. It's important to note that the studios weren't based Downtown, nor did those involved in the growing industry live there. Los Angeles would not be famous for smokestack industries and captains of industry; it would be famous for selling culture and angelic starlets. The Ambassador became synonymous with the energetic young metropolis, its celluloid dreams, and the fame and fortune that made it a place unlike any other.

The path of progress may have brought The Ambassador to greatness, but it would eventually forsake the hotel and relegate it to its present fate. Wilshire Boulevard eclipsed Downtown in prominence in the years before Pearl Harbor, but after the War it was obvious that Southern California would continue to sprawl into a multi-centered metropolis, stripping the grand boulevard of its glory. The Ambassador found itself in an "inner-city" location, as wealth and fashion moved on to newer places further from the urban core. Bullock's Wilshire and The Brown Derby similarly fell out of fashion and closed shop.

The assassination of Robert Kennedy in the hotel in 1968 speaks to the larger changes that had swept the United States since 1921. Los Angeles and its motion-picture industry were not so novel anymore; politics had changed and the very idea of "progress" had been called into question. The Ambassador represented a simpler and in some ways more innocent time. The fact that it had been so famous before did not ensure that it would remain significant in the future. Times change, people change, cities change...and yet buildings do not.

By 1989, The Ambassador could not continue as a business enterprise in its current form. No longer a celebrity "hot spot" in a fashionable part of town, its owners couldn't justify spending the money necessary to bring the structure up to current fire and earthquake codes. As the hotel's greatness had fallen from memory, there seemed to be no consensus, political or otherwise, to ensure it was part of the Los Angeles of the future.

The Ambassador did have something to offer beyond memories: land, lots of land, in a central location that was surrounded by intense development. The 1980's, an era of growth and prosperity that rivaled the 1920's, solicited grand dreams. Donald Trump led a consortium of investors who sought to build the world's tallest skyscraper on The Ambassador's property: a monument to the future of Los Angeles that conciously ignored its past. Mr. Trump's ambitions were futile, as the Southern California economy soon crashed and he encountered a powerful adversary: the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD).

The "public" realm in Los Angeles is practically invisible to most observers, but its needs cannot go completely unheeded. Land that might hold an opulent hotel or skyscraper may also hold a park or school. LAUSD looked at The Ambassador site and saw the perfect place to educate thousands of children from the dense neighborhoods of central Los Angeles. Unlike those in the private realm, however, LAUSD had a powerful means at its disposal to claim the space: eminent domain. The school district sought out to "take" the land for a "public good" provided that it could pay a "fair market price."

Throughout the 1990's, LAUSD and the Trump-backed investors waged battle over the use of eminent domain and the price of The Ambassador's land, but most Angelenos paid little attention. What might happen to the historic hotel seemed to be an afterthought; in the meantime, it continued to rot away, bringing a sense of "blight" to Wilshire Boulevard. The general sentiment seemed to be that whatever might replace The Ambassador would be an improvement, but without a resolution in sight, it was clear that nothing at all would replace the hotel in the near future.

By the time it was obvious that the building would soon be gone, it was difficult to effectively build any consensus to save it from the wrecking ball. By 2000, the legal battle ended, and LAUSD prevailed. New schools had become an imperative, and the electorate supported several bond issues to allow for the construction of new facilities across the city. LAUSD had the money, the will, and the political support to build a gigantic new school on The Ambassador property, and it demanded that it be built in the most expedient fashion.

The Los Angeles Conservancy, the region's preeminent historical preservation advocacy group, appealed to LAUSD to save as much of the historic structure as possible. After all, the Southwestern Law School opted to occupy the nearby Bullock's Wilshire building rather than demolish it in favor of a new structure. LAUSD commited to saving the building that had housed the hotel's Cocoanut Grove night club, but no more. The school district claimed that building the school inside the hotel would add years and hundreds of millions of dollars to the project; although the Conservancy offered alternate proposals it claimed wouldn't be significantly costlier, the LAUSD seemed unwilling to negotiate.

Frustrated by LAUSD's obstinance, the Conservancy eventually sued the district as a last ditch effort to save The Ambassador. In doing so, it took a "lone wolf" position; local politicians refused to enter the debate, as did the Kennedy family. Worse yet, LAUSD was able to paint it as "the bad guy," standing in the way of a badly-needed school for the city. The city at large seemed uninterested in the debate, and what little political pressure existed came from the pro-school camp. In today's Los Angeles, concerns over financial and political expediency trump those over historical preservation and long-range planning. The Conservancy reached a settlement with LAUSD, allowing for demolition to proceed last September. The Ambassador is now nothing more than a memory.

I count myself among the few Angelenos who see this story as tragic, and I run the risk of being labeled a sentimentalist out of step with the realities of modern Los Angeles and its needs. As an urban planner, I recognize the spectrum of competing interests that exist when it comes to shaping our city's future, and I respect them. However, the story of The Ambassador speaks to a lack of vision that permeates our city and keeps us from recognizing the value of our past and how it must play a role in our future. The political landscape is oriented towards expediency and reactive thinking rather than consequences and proactive planning. There are value judgements to be made here, and we must not make them lightly. I shudder to think that future generations will compare the demolition of The Ambassador in Los Angeles for the sake of "progress" to the demolition of Penn Station in New York City.

The lesson to be learned here is that politicians, urban planners, preservationists, and (especially) everyday citizens must demand more of a voice in LAUSD's school-building activities. While the motives of providing new schools in an overcrowded metropolis are certainly more noble than the motives of economic development and the "highest and best use" of land that inform many land use decisions (such as Penn Station), those motives must be balanced against the larger needs of the metropolis, ideally a definite vision of what this city is to become. We have learned that eminent domain, placed in any hands, can be a dangerous and destructive thing; as they say, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

When LAUSD decides where and how to build a school, who is the agency accountable to? No one, it would seem. The Belmont fiasco has already revealed that LAUSD could do a better job when it comes to building schools; the story of The Ambassador should only reinforce that point. What values and critiera are driving the construction of schools in Los Angeles? We should all question whether the true long-term needs and interests of the larger community are being considered.

Mayor Villaraigosa has made good on his campaign pledge of attempting to exercise more authority over the autonomous school district, with City Controller Laura Chick seeking to conduct an audit on the agency and its sprawling bureaucracy. I hope that if Ms. Chick is sucessful, the issues surrounding school construction, including site selection and the use of eminent domain, are carefully analyzed. A change in policy will ensure that LAUSD is not given free reign to make one-sided decisions about our city and its land use, all of which have long-term consequences, in the name of the "public good" of building new schools. I am convinced that there could have been an outcome at The Ambassador site that would have been a "win" for all the parties involved.

So I bid farewell to The Ambassador, hoping that the destruction of a part of our city's past may teach a lesson that will improve its future.

The Ambassador Wake - February 2, 2006, 7 p.m.

Back to the Blog

Well, hello there...it's been awhile.

I can imagine that those few diehard "P.U." fans out there have been disappointed when they kept checking in only to find the same stupid picture of Trump on the golf course. My last post was on November 29. Why had I left the blogging game, and would I ever return?

Fortunately there are no tragic circumstances behind my absence, nor was it my intention to stop posting for good. I simply encountered a fit of "writer's block" and needed to take a break. With all the recent changes in my life, I felt overwhelmed and couldn't focus long enough to sit down and share the millions of thoughts swirling in my brain. As you might expect, writing posts as long as mine requires more time and energy than I can sometimes muster.

But I'm back now, and I'd like to get warmed up by sharing some bits and pieces of my life.

Let's start with work. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I cherish my professional identity as an urban planner and that my love for cities has permeated my entire existence for as long as I can remember. I chose to begin this post with a photo of me, circa age 3, surveying a city I had built with toys, items from around the house, and (of course) the power of my imagination. I would proudly call my mother into the room when I made such models, pointing out what everything was (housing, parking lots, shopping malls, etc.). I knew then, as now, that my destiny was to have a hand in how cities were built and how they were to function.

For over four years I have had the pleasure of working for the Los Angeles County Department of Regional Planning. My first assignment was working as a Zoning Enforcement Officer in the unincorporated Florence-Firestone community in South Los Angeles. I saw my job as far more than going out and citing people for violations of the Zoning Code; I saw it as an opportunity to help turn a neglected and troubled community around by improving its quality of life and making it a better place to live for its residents, who I loved interacting with. It was a tremendous experience I will never forget, and I'm proud to say I feel I did a lot of good in that community -- for the whole story, I suggest you read "The Last Hurrah for Mr. Florence-Firestone."

Last summer, I made the difficult decision to ask for a transfer to a new assignment. As much as I had enjoyed working in Florence-Firestone, I felt ready to tackle new challenges and (more importantly) learn more about different aspects of planning and the many other communities in Los Angeles County that our agency is responsible for. I requested a move into the Advance Planning Division, where I'd have a hand in setting policy with broader implications. More specifically, I wished to work on housing policy, a crucial issue in Los Angeles County.

While management was gracious in honoring my transfer request, I didn't get exactly what I asked for. I moved into Advance Planning, but was assigned to its Countywide Studies branch. "Countywide" is a bit of a misnomer, since at the current time our focus is on the communities in the Fifth Supervisorial District, which encompasses the northern part of the County, including the Antelope Valley, the Santa Clarita Valley, and the foothill communities of the San Gabriel Valley. I was forunate to be promoted to Principal Planner at the time I was transferred, having been promoted to Senior Planner only a year earlier.

As you might imagine, I've had to adjust to a completely different assignment, trying to grasp a whole new set of planning issues while orienting myself to a slower pace. The hardest part has been spending so little time "in the field," as having a compressed work schedule means I spend 10 hours at my desk 4 days a week. I miss working outside and spending time in the community, as it brought me closer to the constituents who pay my salary. Even though some of the people I had to deal with in Zoning Enforcement drove me crazy, I've learned that I really am a "people person" at heart and miss the daily interaction with a wide variety of people in environments I would never have been exposed to otherwise.

It's a big change moving my focus from South Central to North County. Dealing with a broad spectrum of communuities is one of the benefits of working for Los Angeles County, but I faced a steep learning curve. My expertise on urban areas doesn't translate to suburban and rural areas; the issues are completely different. I've had to get familiar with places I'd rarely (if ever) visited and concepts like hillside development, rural communities, and the subdivision of land. Planning for rural areas, in particular, has been one of the most intriguing aspects of my new job.

My first major assignment was working on a Community Standards District for the unincorporated community of Juniper Hills, over 80 miles north of Downtown Los Angeles. A Community Standards District is a "supplement" to the Zoning Code that establishes special standards for different communities based on their unique needs. Juniper Hills is a remote, rural community set against the foothills on the north side of the Angeles National Forest. Its residents want to prevent large-scale suburban style development (like that found in nearby Palmdale) from creeping into their community while supporting the rights of property owners. I had the pleasure of taking a guided tour of Juniper Hills last month and I understand the need to keep its unique character intact. I've been working closely with the community's Town Council and hope to have the Community Standards District adopted by the end of the year.

My other major assignment is "One Valley, One Vision," a joint effort with the City of Santa Clarita. We are attempting to create a General Plan, which is a long-range policy document required by California State Law, that would cover the City and the surrounding unincorporated areas. It is very unique for two jurisdictions to decide on common planning goals and policies, and I enjoy the collobarative aspects of this project. The Santa Clarita Valley is a large area with a mix of unique communities, ranging from Valencia (a master-planned community built over the last 40 years) to Newhall (an older town founded at a train depot in the late 1880's) to Agua Dulce (a rural area with large lots and "estate" homes). The Valley also has beautiful hills and other topographical features that should be protected as well as horrendous traffic, among lots of other issues. I am hopeful that I can help create a General Plan that will satisfy everyone's concerns and end up being considered a model for collobaration across neighboring jurisdictions.

On the whole, I got what I asked for: new areas to help plan for, new issues and concepts to learn about, and a whole new perspective on urban planning and what it means to be a professional planner. I'll keep everyone posted on my new endeavors.

Now for the personal stuff. I'm still in East Hollywood, a community I adore for its diversity and activity. A big benefit of working in the office all the time is getting to take the Red Line subway everyday to work. I was wise to choose an apartment within walking distance of the Hollywood and Western station, since my office is next door to the Civic Center station. I enjoy a 20 minute commute without any of the stress associated with driving. I am currently living in Los Angeles without owning a car -- it's bizarre, but it can be done.

My roommate moved out at the end of September, but I decided not to seek a new one out. It's been a few years since I've lived alone and I'm enjoying it. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's liberating to have full control of the TV again! I have yet to utilize the "other" bedroom in my apartment, a testament to the fact that I don't have too much junk. At some point in the future I might seek a new place to live, but I've had my fill of changes for now.

Speaking of changes, I'm still in a relationship with a wonderful girl, Chizi. I remain amazed that my foray into the blogosphere led to me having a steady girlfriend; Chizi first contacted me after reading "P.U." and liking what she saw! Being in love for the first time has taught me a lot about myself and life in general. The two of us have a lot of fun together.

I finally made it back to my beloved hometown of Tempe, Arizona over the holidays. It was great to see Momz, Lil Sis, Thurman, and my dad as well as a couple old friends. Though I've been in Los Angeles for nearly 9 years, the Phoenix area still feels like "home" to me despite its ongoing growth and evolution into one of the largest metropolises in the country. I convinced Chizi to come out for a bit and get acquainited with my family and my past. I took her on a vigorous "Mitch Glaser" tour of the Valley of the Sun. Not only did we experience my past (the schools I went to, the places I lived, the places I hung out), but we went to many malls as well! My passion for malls has been expressed often on "P.U." -- Chizi loves malls too, but for more obvious reasons!

On the whole, things are going well for me. I think I'm ready to start blogging again. Hopefully I'll be up to musing on urban planning, Los Angeles, Phoenix, malls, retail, and (of course) my life on a more regular basis. Stay tuned, cherished readers, stay tuned.