It takes a while to truly understand LA. I'm not sure that I ever will.
But I know that it's only just now that I'm starting to understand some of the histories of LA that I first encountered years ago.
It takes a while to piece everything together.
Circa 1978 - Photo: Los Angeles Public Library Photo Collection
Back in 2014, I didn't know much about the Metropolitan Water District—not to mention about its former headquarters in Echo Park, designed by modernist architect William Pereira (of LAX, JPL, and Geisel Library fame).
And when I took a tour of its former office tower—now an eight-story condo residence known as "The Elysian"—I didn't know that I was standing in an area known as "Victor Heights," on the former site of Beaudry Park, which the Sisters of Charity bought in 1883 to build a hospital upon.
And when I snapped a photo of the lower building adjacent to the tower, I didn't understand why I'd heard someone refer to it as a church.
I only knew that someone had asked why the former Metropolitan Water District campus had been split into two, and the response regarding the portion below—the church, as they called it—was that "they didn't want it."
I didn't know that just two years later, that same section would be imperiled—threatened with demolition.
Gazing up at the hilltop site from Sunset Boulevard, it actually still looks like a cohesive campus...
...until you shift your gaze east to the corner of Sunset and Beaudry Avenue.
Oh, there's the church—the Holy Hill Community Church, which had occupied the site since 1996 but filed for bankruptcy in 2014 and sold off to a Beverly Hills developer.
Their 5.3 acres is prime in terms of property value, but they didn't do the historic structure any good by building a sanctuary on top of it.
Those that have argued in favor of the demolition claim that the campus has been modified to the point of no return.
And seeing it in its current condition...
...which is shaggy, at best...
...I can kind of understand why.
When you're looking at the façade now, with a cross hung above the entrance, it is hard to envision the former grandeur that was captured so well in black and white by Julius Shulman.
Colorful mosaic tiles disrupt the clean modernism...
...with ecclesiastical imagery.
The demolition permit might've been a "done deal," had it not been for a building that's attached to a tower of the same campus by the same architect with the same structural columns and concrete beams that had fallen into even worse disrepair—and had been beautifully restored.
Looking at the two sections next to each other—the 1960s low-rise and the 1971 high-rise—is practically like looking at renderings for a "before and after" restoration.
Clearly, it can be done. The pools of water can be refilled.
But someone has to care enough to want to do it.
And then there's that pesky chapel to deal with.
But at least they didn't completely destroy the room they were originally using as a sanctuary.
And at least they didn't tear out the escalators.
Everything else seems relatively easy to clean up. There's a broken window here or there, some dead grass and general neglect, but nothing seems hopeless.
Certainly nothing seems to warrant demolition of a building that's critical to our city's water history—and therefore our city's history—by an architect who was on the cover of TIME Magazine in 1963, the same year that it was built.
But how do you convince the powers-that-be of that?
And how do you save it from demolition, even if it does become landmarked? People tend to do whatever they want and just pay the fines.
In a case like this, someone powerful has to care. Or, at least someone with a really big mouth and a set of squeaky wheels.
For some great historic photos as well as more photos of the interior, click here.
For a virtual tour of the exterior and interior—as well as a cameo made by yours truly during the public comment, watch the video below:
A Reinvention Worth Waiting For
Downtown LA's Upwards Build into the Open Air
Photo Essay: Geisel Library, UCSD Campus
Photo Essay: NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Pasadena