When a friend of mine asked if I wanted to take a day trip to Santa Barbara for the Old Spanish Days festival, I didn't hesitate to say "Yes!"
It's not that far north from LA, but driving there (and back home) can be a major drag with traffic.
But for this trip, we'd be taking a bus there, spending a couple of hours watching a historical parade, and then taking a bus back home.
El Desfile Histórico (the "Historical Parade") is a Santa Barbara tradition that's been running 92 years and counting.
It's more or less a historical reenactment of the events leading to the development of Santa Barbara and Alta California as a whole, featuring flamenco dancers (led by this year's "Spirit of Fiesta," in white)...
...mariachi bands in charro outfits...
...and, of course, horses.
This is one of the biggest equestrian parades in the country...
...with over 600 horses featured...
...plus a variety of antique wagons—including a fire wagon and an authentic Wells Fargo stagecoach.
Even Smokey the Bear made an appearance to celebrate the Spanish founding of the City of Santa Barbara...
...named after Saint Barbara, the patron saint of mining and artillery (appropriate for the home of El Presidio).
Although it's called "Old Spanish Days," the weekend-long festival also pays tribute to the 25 years that the city (and all of California) was part of Mexico.
It's kind of a "Founder's Day" parade, replete with storytelling floats, historical and cultural costumes, and lots of horsemen.
Everyone—from those who are marching to those who are just watching from the sidelines—calls out, "¡Viva la Fiesta!"
The parade is where Santa Barbara's multiple identities come together as one...
...from its beginnings as Native Chumash tribal land and as a Spanish colony...
...to the rancho period, when it was part of the California Republic under Mexican rule.
And, of course, as the city sometimes known as "the American Riviera," now in the 31st state of the U.S.
With all of that music wafting down Shoreline Drive and blowing out over the Pacific Ocean, the horses can't just stride, gallop, and trot.
They march along to the drumline.
They prance and dance, clip-clopping a percussive accompaniment to the strings and horns.
The horses themselves in the parade are a sight to see...
...ranging from Clydesdales to Palominos to Andalusians (or Pura Raza Española).
Some sport silver saddles and lovely, long manes.
Some even have their hooves painted.
The men on the horses' backs aren't just any ol' cowboys, either—they're vaqueros...
...demonstrating the California style of western riding and vaquero-style roping.
Now that I've been, I wonder why I haven't left my car at home and found some other way—be it a bus or a train—to get to Santa Barbara more often. I've thoroughly enjoyed its historic carousel, botanic garden, and delicious abandonment in the past.
I'll be back there soon to get a better look at the courthouse and mission and see what other treasures there are to dig up.
For whatever reason, I spend a lot more time exploring the former ranchos outside of the city I live in, rather than devoting myself to really understanding my own backyard.
Yes, Beverly Hills was once part of a rancho, too.
In fact, "Rodeo Drive" is pronounced "Roe-day-oh" instead of "Roh-dee-yo" after the Spanish rodeo, as in Rancho Rodeo de las Aguas—or, "The Ranch of the Gathering of the Waters."
Yes, Beverly Hills also has its own water supply—though, when it was originally claimed in 1822 by Mexican settlers Maria Rita Valdez and her husband Vicente Valdez, the water took mostly the form of swamps (a.k.a. cienegas).
And some of that former swampland is now La Cienega Boulevard—and there, in the vicinity of the trail and campsite of the 1769 Portolá Expedition (which brought the first Europeans to Beverly Hills), you can find Historic Civil Engineering Landmark No. 31: Beverly Hills Waterworks.
The facility was not just the first municipal water treatment plant on the West Coast and the first civic building of Beverly Hills. Its construction (and the formation of the Beverly Hills Utilities Corporation) allowed one of the earliest planned communities in southern California to stay independent of Los Angeles.
Because Beverly Hills had its own water—and, though it was sulfurous, a supply that could be filtered, purified, and used—it wouldn't need to be annexed into LA.
Photo: Security Pacific National Bank Collection, LAPL
This was a big deal—pushed through, in part, by silent film megastar Douglas Fairbanks—that required a building that lived up to its reputation of "Independence Hall." The resulting landmark incorporated Romanesque architecture with Moorish influences into an ecclesiastical facade (a "cathedral of water," as it were) with an industrial interior.
Photo: Security Pacific National Bank Collection, LAPL
The Waterworks opened in 1928 to much fanfare, and it successfully processed water for Beverly Hills for nearly 50 years. But it closed 1976, when Beverly Hills began buying its water from the Los Angeles Metropolitan Water District.
Just five years after having been damaged by the Sylmar earthquake, the Waterworks building was rendered obsolete. And for 10 years, it stood abandoned—and vulnerable to vandals and vagrants. In 1987, way before the establishment of its historic preservation ordinance, the city approved the site for demolition, considering it a safety hazard.
It was only when an organization was willing to "pick up the tab" that the city government stood behind its preservation—and so it reopened in 1991, the 25th anniversary year of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966 that created the National Register.
So, who ended up picking up the $5 million tab to rehabilitate the place?
None other than the organization founded by Douglas Fairbanks himself, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (for which he also served as president).
The Academy's library—founded in 1928, the same year the Waterworks opened—had already outgrown a couple of other spaces and was looking for a new home.
The grandiose concrete block construction in an L-shaped footprint with terra-cotta roof tiles, archways, gables, and other architectural embellishments seemed to fit the bill.
Even vandalized, the property had retained integrity from its period of significance—including the bell tower, which hid the chimney that burned off the sulfur in the purification process.
The new library facility (which included the addition of a new west wing) opened in Beverly Hills just five years after being saved from the bulldozer...
...now named after Douglas Fairbanks and Margaret Herrick, who was the Academy librarian from 1936 to 1943 and its executive director from 1945 to 1971.
It's actually open to the public—not just to Academy members, actors, film students, or film scholars—although when you go, you have to really know what you're looking for. Because it's a non-circulating library (that doesn't loan out its materials), much of the archives contained herein aren't just out on the shelves. Instead, you've got to request that they be pulled.
But fortunately, the Academy was offering a tour to the library...
...which provided a special opportunity to peruse the building and its collection...
...without looking for anything in particular.
It doesn't matter whether or not you're interested in movie history, because the restoration work on this building is stunning. It's hard to believe it's the same place as in those old photos.
It's worth a visit—just to be able to look out that rose window from the inside.
The view has changed a bit, and the swamps are gone, but fortunately the area surrounding the old water treatment plant still feels like parkland.
The palm trees are a little taller now, but there's really nothing else obstructing the view.
Beyond the various tomes on the shelves...
...the library also houses 12 million physical images...
...including many production shots, promotional stills, costume and makeup test shots, and behind the scenes photos (in the form of prints, slides, and negatives).
They've also got storyboards from movies like Ghostbusters...
...Silence of the Lambs...
...and Grease.
There's an array of costume sketches...
...other one-of-a-kind illustrations done by hand...
...as well as scripts, periodicals, press releases and clippings, letters, pamphlets, posters, and production art.
And then, of course, are the items that have yet to be restored or digitized. The Academy has 30 years left of their 55-year lease, so hopefully, they'll get to it all.
But their collection continues to grow, as donations come in from the estates of passed directors, producers, actors, and other crew people. It's hard to turn anything down, although they do. There just isn't enough room for multiple copies of things, or for archives of items that aren't very unique.
At some point, they might grow out of this space, too. Nothing is saved forever, so the time to appreciate it is NOW.
You can see another construction photo here and the complete architectural details of its historic significance here.
That's more or less the story behind artist Robby Gordon's enclave in the Beachwood Canyon section of the Hollywood Hills. He's only lived there for four years, but he's settled in pretty well, having installed quite a few pieces into his Hollywood Sculpture Garden on a slippery hillside, strewn with pine needles.
It features the "Chain" sculpture by June Diamond, a dancer by Ed Hart, as well as works by Bruce Bermudez and Robby Gordon himself...
...whose paint-splattered tires form a kind of retaining wall at the bottom of the hill—and also let you know that you've come to the right place.
At the top of the hill, Brian Carlson's "Return of the Ancients" dangles from a tree behind two figures that also hang, arms interlocked.
A tree up there has been yarn bombed...
...and a bright pink headless figure (painted by Robby) stands glowing in the sun to greet you.
A disembodied torso by George Dominguez marks a path to the garden...
...but it's so perilous, you can't get very far.
It's better to view the painted ladies from the street.
Up next to his house, Robby has also painted his garage and driveway...
...as well as the women who flank Brian Carlson's "Flamenco Sol"...
...perched upon the roof of the garage.
If you're lucky enough to be invited inside Robby's house—because you're an artist too, or a student, or a philanthropist attending one of his parties—pay no mind to the gimp who greets you.
The interior space is where you'll find The Hollywood Gallery, a showcase for Robby's textural paintings that are literally brimming with paint gobs...
...many of which are best viewed from behind a pair of special 3D glasses that Robby will let you borrow.
He considers himself a painter, but he's really a sculptor of paint—creating mixed media works that literally jump off the wall at you, with layers upon layers of colors that have been brushed, smeared, and squirted from a syringe onto the canvas (as is the case with his "Fantasy" painting).
And so, his oil and acrylic paint workshop is a work of art in and of itself.
Robby also dabbles in interior design, custom painting window coverings (including all of his own) and creating a number of abstract ceramics. He also designed his entire bedroom furniture set himself.
He probably gets the most attention for his wearable art—including hand-painted, one-of-a-kind neckties and his own line of eyeglass frames.
And in those corners where he hasn't gotten the chance to cover every surface in gallons of paint, the rooms are awash in a rotating cycle of colored light.
There's a sense that Robby doesn't "do" art for the money—and that he probably doesn't need it.
He uses his studio to teach others how to paint. He shares his home (inside and out) with other artists who are looking for a unique exhibition space to attract the attention of gallery owners and curators.
And if you send him a receipt for a $100 donation to your favorite humanitarian or peace organization, he'll send you one of his paintings—for free (plus a nominal shipping charge).
You can see more photos of Robby's studio and The Hollywood Gallery and find out how to make an appointment here.
