Photo Essay: The Wizard of Oz Gets Weird at the Sphere Vegas

Speaking of The Wizard of Oz, the classic movie offered the perfect opportunity to return to the Sphere in Las Vegas. 

Because after dozens of times seeing it on television and home video (and most recently catching it on the big screen in 3D at Gardena Cinema), why not also experience it on the world's largest spherical structure with the world's largest screen?

It seemed like the perfect thing to do on Thanksgiving night—though not a holiday movie per se, but associated with the holidays after decades of TV broadcasts around the end of the year.

 

Photo Essay: Holiday Bells and Whistles at the Bellagio Conservatory

This was my fourth time spending Thanksgiving in Las Vegas on a solo trip—and after taking myself out to dinner, I decided to head to the Bellagio for the Christmas display in its Conservatory & Botanical Garden.

I'd never seen the Conservatory displays at night—and I thought it might be a little less crowded, since Vegas itself is pretty quiet on Thanksgiving. 

Photo Essay: The Egyptian Theatre Rises From Its Restoration Tomb

In May 2020, a deal was finalized to transfer ownership of the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood (a.k.a. Grauman's Egyptian) from the non-profit American Cinematheque to the very much for-profit streaming service (and now film studio) Netflix. 

And it caused quite an uproar.

Because when the City of LA's Community Redevelopment Agency sold the Egyptian to American Cinematheque in 1996—for just $1, a symbolic transaction—it was so that the historic property could be made accessible for the public good. 

To complicate matters, one of the American Cinematheque board members at the time worked for Netflix. 

Now, I don't know what American Cinemetheque's bylaws state in reference to potential conflicts of interest. It may be that the board reviewed the situation and decided that the possible interested person didn't stand to gain anything financially by the transaction, and so it wasn't an actual conflict of interest.

But it seems as though A.C. may not have even had the right to sell the property at all—much less transfer it to a corporation that would use it for private gain. 

Sure, the streamer will still allow the non-profit to occasionally screen repertory cinema and festivals; but it will primarily use the theatre as a screening room for its original productions. 

How did Netflix get around the Supreme Court decision of 1948 (known as the "Paramount Act," the "Paramount Decision," and the "Paramount Decree") that forbade movie studios from owning their own movie theatres and booking their own films there, as a violation of anti-trust laws? 

The same year that Netflix bought the Egyptian, the U.S. Department of Justice motioned to lift the ban—and a judge granted the motion. 

The anti-trust regulation of movie theatres was terminated—which means studios can once again legally own their own movie houses and monopolize the market, potentially edging out smaller chains and independent-run cinemas. 

It's a funny thing, a digital-first platform turning to brick-and-mortar—much like Amazon.com opening real-life grocery stores. (Or Amazon Studios taking over the Pacific Culver City multiplex for Prime screenings last December.)

They've both already cannibalized mom-and-pop retail by shifting consumer behavioral patterns online—so moving to physical locations feels a little like they're turning the knife. 

 

I appreciate that Netflix wanted to take over and preserve an existing, historic theatre rather than building something anew (or, gasp, tearing something down in the process). So, I had to put all this drama aside for myself—because in the end, no matter who owns it, the Egyptian is a 101-year-old Hollywood landmark. I want to support it; I want to help it stay open and active; I want to experience it. 

Photo Essay: The 44th Occasional Pasadena Doo Dah Parade, Back in Old Town

Pasadena is known for its annual Tournament of Roses—which occurs on New Year's Day, but never on a Sunday—as well as for the "twisted sister" of the Rose Parade, the Pasadena Doo Dah Parade, which occasionally, not necessarily every year, takes place on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. 

 

A Turkey-Free Thanksgiving at a Storied Mountain Lodge Outside of LA

When I was working as a field agent for Atlas Obscura a few years ago, I really wanted to host a dinner at Saddle Peak Lodge—specifically, a game meat dinner. 

I was fascinated with intimidating foods and thought that a communal experience would create a comfort level that I, and others, might not have alone. 

I couldn't get that event approved, so I finally went to Saddle Peak Lodge on my own a few years ago—but I wimped out both gastronomically and financially and just went to brunch. I don't remember the meal, but I'm pretty sure I had eggs (and not, like, ostrich eggs).

So, I've felt like I hadn't really experienced the restaurant—and when the 2018 Woolsey Fire swept through the area, fortunately sparing it, the urgency to return intensified.

I finally made it back yesterday, for Thanksgiving dinner—not because this colonial holiday is important to me (it's not), but because I felt like I needed the excuse of a special occasion to splurge on it. And since it's a Michelin star-receiving establishment, it also charges Michelin star-level prices.

Some Kind of Thanksgiving, In a Year Without Holidays

It's been a year without holidays. But I was determined to have some kind of Thanksgiving. 

I haven't had any annual Thanksgiving traditions since I went away to college. I've spent nearly every year doing something different—going to somebody else's house—taking myself out to yet another dinner alone. 

I went to Vegas one year. I thought about going back this year. But the pandemic is just too bad right now. 

Another year, I walked a 5K with a friend. But this year, no gatherings of any sort are allowed. Not even with friends. 

 

So, I packed a bag, and I drove three hours north to treat myself to an overnight stay at the Madonna Inn—a place I normally wouldn't be able to afford, or at least justify splurging on if I'd only be sleeping there.
 

 

Because it's almost winter, it was already dark out when I arrived around 6 p.m.

I made a beeline to the gift shop first to buy another glass goblet (a red one this time, I already have two different pinks) and a face mask whose pattern matches the carpeting throughout the main lobby. I also got a slice of pink champagne cake from the bakery to eat in bed later. 

 

When I settled into my room—only the second one I've ever stayed in at the Madonna Inn, out of their 110 distinctively decorated accommodations—it took me a few moments to absorb all the details of the equine-themed decor.

 

This room is called "Chestnut Foal," and I'd chosen it specifically for the carousel horse that hangs from the ceiling. 

 

What I didn't realize until I arrived was that the namesake foal lights up!

    

What a sight to gaze upon from bed, after first waking up, on Thanksgiving morning. 

 

I may never get the chance to stay at the Madonna Inn again—or certainly that room, since I'll want to make my way around to the different offerings—so I was reticent to leave its pasture-green carpet and horse-printed walls. 

But more adventures awaited me, after waking up with the sun...

 

...and climbing down that creaky spiral staircase that kept me up most of the night. 

 

Although I've only stayed at the Madonna Inn twice now, I've actually visited several other times—and this was the nicest weather I'd ever seen there. 

I took the opportunity to explore more of the grounds that I hadn't seen before—including where they keep the horses. 

I'd hoped to go on a trail ride during my stay—but understandably, the staff (and horses) took the holiday off.

   

But that didn't keep me from swinging by for some sniffs and scritches.

 

When I booked my stay at the Madonna Inn, San Luis Obispo County guidelines allowed for indoor dining—a reopening stage that rolled back after COVID-19 infection rates began to soar once again (as they had throughout Southern California). 

 

So, instead of basking in the pinkness of Alex Madonna's Gold Rush Steakhouse, in all its Christmasy glory, I found myself at a makeshift table for two—set up right outside the carport by the registration office. 

 

I practically melted as I faced the sun, sipping my pink drink (a raspberry gimlet) and setting it upon its pink cocktail napkin. But a pandemic Thanksgiving dinner at the Madonna Inn is still better than no Thanksgiving dinner at all—especially since LA County barred all outdoor dining just a day before the holiday. 

 

At least I got to take in the holiday decorations for a little while, while I waited for my table to be ready. 

 

There surely will be more opportunities for me to eat inside at the Madonna Inn in the future, when it's safe to do so—even if I'm spending the night elsewhere (like at a cheap motel down the road). 

I suppose I was in direct defiance of LA's "Safer at Home" directive, which took effect the day before Thanksgiving. But I was traveling alone—in my own car—and only visiting other counties that were in the exact same color-coded tier as LA. 

I figured all of Southern California and the Central Coast had become pretty much a level playing field. 

I was grateful to be able to leave home at all—and be in public, even if at a distance—in a less-familiar place than where I've spent the last 9 months. 

And after one night away, it was time to return back home—where I'd be hopefully safe. 

Related Posts:

Photo Essay: In the Pink at the Madonna Inn

Upon the Fourth Thursday of November

A Double Gobble Thanksgiving

Photo Essay: Bob Baker Marionette Theater's Grand Opening in the Former York Theatre [Updated for 2026]

[Last updated 4/13/26 7:20 PM PT—Bob Baker Marionette Theatre announced today that it was on track to buy the former York Theatre, rather than just leasing it. A letter from the co-executive directors announced that the puppet theater company has already raised 90% of its building purchase goal in just over a year, further stating: "...We know from experience that the key to the continuity of BBMT is ensuring that we can continue to operate from our physical space—and that true security can only be had through ownership." Another fundraising push aims to take them across the finish line, so they can truly be—as their neon marquee promises—"In LA to Stay."

The day after Thanksgiving this year, Bob Baker Marionette Theater celebrated its grand opening at its new location.



It was 56 years ago to the day—the day after Thanksgiving, that is—that Bob Baker himself opened his puppet theater in its old location on First Street in 1963.



Despite being designated a Historic-Cultural Monument in 2009, the old theater building—which wasn't a theater at all, but a studio/special effects workshop—got slated for condo development.



And it turned out to be just the kick in the pants that the puppet theater company needed to find a new home: the former York Theatre in the Northeast Los Angeles community of Highland Park.



Originally built in 1923 by Richard R.F. Lehman (a.k.a. R.R.F. Lehman) as a vaudeville house—and operated by the John Sugar Amusement Company/Vox Theatres— it most recently housed a Korean church, which had carpeted over the terrazzo flooring.



Once the congregation vacated, it was only a couple of months later—in February of this year—that the Bob Baker folks announced their lease of the York.



They got to work right away at tearing up the carpet and painting floors, walls, and doors. They were already performing preview shows by June of this year.



Although the seating capacity has been dramatically reduced from the original 700—now with a max occupancy of 476 people and 2219 puppets—original 1920s-era theater seats are still bolted to the floor.



Two chandeliers have been hung (a third is on its way) in front of a false proscenium, with those calling card red curtains hanging once again.



The clowns have returned to the sides of the "stage," too.



But an exciting new addition to the new location is a digital theatre organ, whose console is a Wurlitzer replica. It's all too fitting that this little toy-sized organ perform the preamble for puppet shows—and maybe even step into the spotlight for some future organ-oriented programming, too.



The L.A. Times reports that the York Theatre did, at one point, operate as Artisan Organ Hall for organ sales and repairs! And a 1923 edition of the L.A. Times also reports that the original theater operation housed a Wurlitzer for its vaudeville performances.



The auditorium is bigger and wider than it used to be—and that's a good thing. The sightlines have dramatically improved, especially with the raked floor.



But the upgrade to 10,000 square feet—from 7,000 sq. ft.—doesn't take away any of the intimacy of the performances.



If nothing else, it provides some extra room for puppet storage.



And while many of the puppets used in the theater company's shows date back several decades, there are new puppets still being created by the staff and volunteers who now run the show.

They've even resurrected some shows—and puppets—that haven't been seen in decades.

What they've already accomplished is incredible. And while they've still got more to do, there's no doubt that they will settle into their new home quite nicely.

For historic photos, visit the York Theatre page on Los Angeles Theatres.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Bob Baker Marionette Theater Company Bids Farewell to Their Home of 55 Years

The Art of Master Puppeteer Bob Baker, Upon His Passing

Walking in the Footsteps of Mary Tyler Moore, Newhart, and Gilligan at CBS Radford

For years, I've struggled with finding something productive to do on Thanksgiving.

I've set my alarm early to do some volunteering, and I've turned it off to go back to bed. I've spent many Thanksgiving Days—or, at least, mornings—in bed, feeling sorry for myself.

Maybe if LA had a Thanksgiving Day Parade, I would go. But then again, I never did while I lived in New York.

Last year, I gave up entirely and skipped town to spend Thanksgiving in Vegas. And as good of a time as I had in Sin City last Thanksgiving, there was one thing that I'd wished I'd been in LA for.

The Drumstick Dash.

I'd never been tempted to do a "turkey trot" before—no matter where I've spent Thanksgiving, there's usually one nearby—but the Drumstick Dash is different.

It starts and ends on the backlot of the CBS Studio Center in Studio City, which doesn't offer a tour. Walking a 5K there would be my way to get in.

But when I woke up at 6 a.m. on Thursday morning to the sound of rain, I wasn't entirely sure it would be worth it.



By the time I arrived to CBS Radford, past the 22,000 square-foot soundstage #2 (there is no #1), the skies had already begun to clear.



And as I entered what looked to be the "town" section of the backlot—whose bungalows function as offices for the various onsite productions—I realized there was no quitting now.



I'd waited a year for this—and I'd saved my one 5K for 2018 until practically the end of the year. (It's not a hard-and-fast rule, but I'd like to do some kind of walk/run like this at least once a year.)



So there I was, walking past soundstages of current shows that went on air after I gave up watching TV...



...and through the facsimile streets of New York that have appeared on Brooklyn Nine Nine (which is how the storefronts are dressed now)...



...as well as classics like Seinfeld.



Of course, walking the 5K wasn't exactly like taking a studio tour, since they didn't allow us inside any of the buildings...



...and since the backlot isn't actually big enough for a full 5K without going in circles.



So, we exited CBS Studios and walked north on Colfax, crossing over the LA River.



It was a unique perspective, since the LA River actually runs through the CBS studio—which is why there's currently no continuous bike path along the river.



My friend Charity and I weren;t there to race, or even place. We took our time, taking photos and taking in the scenery and all the festivities.



We eventually looped back in onto the backlot...



...past the expendables...



...behind the "town" and bungalows...



...and down a pedestrian path along the river.



Charity works in the biz, so she'd seen most of it before—but this was all new to me.



And as I passed the front door for Entertainment Tonight (which moved to CBS Radford from Paramount in 2008), I was glad not to be in Vegas this year.



I was even glad to have not accepted an invitation to Thanksgiving in Tempe, which came after I'd already signed up for the Drumstick Dash.



And mostly, I was glad to finish. For that, I got a medal.



Sure, I didn't rank in any category, but I wasn't trying to. An extra bonus was not to finish last.



We crossed the finish line early enough to see the rest of the backlot...



...where shows like Mary Tyler Moore (and Rhoda and Lou Grant), The Bob Newhart Show, and WKRP in Cincinnati were shot here in the 1970s and '80s...



...and episodes of My Three Sons and Leave It to Beaver were created before CBS started leasing what was then the Republic Pictures lot in 1963.



The Gilligan's Island lagoon may have been taken out, but there's still a street dedicated to the show, as well as ones for Gunsmoke, St. Elsewhere, and Mack Sennett—who created the lot in 1928 for his Keystone Studios film production company (home of the Keystone Kops).

This is reportedly the last year that the Drumstick Dash will be held at CBS Radford. Not only has it outgrown the small studio lot, but CBS Studios will soon be under construction as some productions will relocate from CBS Television City (on Beverly and Fairfax) to Studio City.

If it moves to another spot I've never been and can't otherwise get into, I might just do the dash again next year. After all, it's already time to start thinking about which 5K I'll do for 2019.

Related Posts:
Conquering LA's 'Golden Gate' Bridge
To the Finish Line