Photo Essay: Kirk Douglas Theatre, the Former Screenland Cinema Saved By Spartacus

When actor and philanthropist Kirk Douglas died at the age of 103 in February 2020, he left behind a legacy that includes not only Spartacus and his actor son, Michael Douglas...

all photos circa 2016 except where noted

...but also the preservation and continued use of the former Culver Theatre in Downtown Culver City, California. 

It was rechristened the Kirk Douglas Theatre after his and his (second) wife Anne's $2.5 million donation—coupled with a grant from the Culver City Redevelopment Agency—gave the former cinema new life as a legit playhouse.



Culver City's own Steven Ehrlich was the architect for the 2002 renovation into the Kirk Douglas Theatre, which opened in 2004 at a total cost of $11 million.



But it was originally built in 1947 for the Fox West Coast movie theatre chain, headed by Charles Skouras—known for the "Skouras Style" that took over the decor of many cinemas at the time.



Back then, Fox produced many of the decorative elements found in its Skouras-influenced theatres at its own assembly plant—not the least of which being a free-standing box office that evokes something of a neo-baroque jukebox.



The floral motif in the (rehabbed) terrazzo sidewalk at the entrance is one of the remaining signature decorative elements associated with Charles and his brother George.



The inside, however, is another story.

Based on how it looks now, it's hard to know how post-war audiences experienced the moviegoing experience when it was the Culver Theatre. 



You can't see much—if any—of the work originally done by architect Albert R. Walker (of Walker and Eisen) and designer Carl G. Moeller.



But it probably lost the character way before this latest rehabilitation—likely in the 1970s, when it was spit into three screens (a.k.a. triplexed). It officially closed in 1989; a few years later, its damaged auditorium was gutted for asbestos removal in the wake of the 1994 Northridge earthquake.



Though the original seating capacity was over 1,000, the house now holds 317 seats, arranged stadium-style.

circa 2008 (Photo: Luis Penados via Flickr, CC BY 2.0)

But hey, it's outlasted the Culver City Theatre (1915, demolished 1923) and the Meralta Theatre (1924, demolished 1983). And that's really something for the city nicknamed "The Heart of Screenland."

Plus, the Center Theatre Group offers some pretty cool and cutting-edge programming at the Kirk Douglas. 

Though Douglas himself was heralded for his iconic movie roles, he said that his first love was the stage—and he wanted the opportunity to help support new and upcoming playwrights. 

So, its adaptive reuse seems fitting, especially since Douglas got to grace the stage of his namesake theatre in 2009 for the autobiographical one-man show, Before I Forget. 

For more history on the Culver Theatre, visit the page dedicated to it at the Los Angeles Theatres website. 

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First Day on Foot

My starting point: Venice Blvd. and South Robertson Blvd, Culver City

I returned my rental car yesterday. My car is still being fixed. I have chosen to be carless for an undetermined amount of time.

I was wildly agitated upon my arrival to Enterprise in Culver City, vocally aghast at the lack of parking spaces, at being asked to move my illegally parked car (twice), and at the disappearance of the attendant. I was behaving badly, reminiscent of the last time I had to face the possible separation from my vehicle.

"Oh you're not picking up your car from the dealership?" the clerk asked, when she finally attended to me.

"No, I'm walking five miles home."

"Well, I'm open 'til 6 p.m. if you have some errands you want to run first..."

I tsked and sighed, explaining that Allstate had instructed me to return the car by noon, and then staring blankly at her.

"Just...take the car now..." I had already mentally prepared myself for its return as best as I could. When someone breaks up with you, you don't want them to linger, you just want them to go, so you can start figuring out how to go on with your life without them.

As I walked away from the rental office, receipt in hand, I burst into tears, wincing from behind my aviator sunglasses. As a hiker, a five mile walk home wasn't so daunting, but I immediately recalled my days in junior high and high school, begging for rides from my teachers, friends and their parents, taking the bus when I could, but mostly being stuck at home. More than once during college Christmas breaks, I was nearly stranded at Shoppingtown Mall, working extended holiday hours past the time the Centro bus stopped running.

One June day in 1993 or 94, I was grounded for the entire summer, and my sister had refused to let me participate in her birthday celebration. So, with nothing to do, and no one to come home to, I decided to walk home from work in Downtown Syracuse, about four miles. It was summer, with plenty of daylight left, but as I left behind the dowtown derelicts, I secretly hoped to be attacked or abducted. I felt punished and helpless. That was one of the loneliest days of my life.

All those feelings of abandonment and desperation came rushing back to me in an instant. Everything I've done over the last 20 years to liberate myself from the shackles of my youth and the grip of my parents seemed to dissolve in the ether.

Not yet ready to embark on my journey home - because what would I do once I got there? - I stayed in Culver City awhile and went to the movies. I got brunch, skipping the booze because it costs the same as a day's car rental. I got coffee. And finally, at 2:30 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, I set off on my journey.

It's actually a straight shot up Robertson from Culver City, under the 10 Freeway and through a neighborhood I've discovered has been coined "SoRo" (South Robertson), then Beverlywood, Beverly Hills and Los Angeles (across the street from each other), West Hollywood, and back to Beverly Hills. At first, my trek seemed, in some ways, wilder than any of my hikes. There were few other trekkers on the urban trail of concrete and blacktop, and nearly everyone I passed who wasn't in a car was either on a bike or headed to or from their car.

Walking up South Robertson - a street I've driven up and down several times to and from Culver City - provided constant discoveries of abandoned storefronts, stretches of thriving industry (upholstery!), historic-looking buildings (a Masonic temple!), and tiny ethnic eateries. I soon forgot about my distress and enjoyed the adventure as though it were just another hike, but one of a very different kind: not a loop, not an out-and-back, and not a one-way with a car shuttle. Just a one way.

I thought about the next few days - with nothing really planned for Sunday and Monday, and plans for Tuesday night in a familiar area that seems easily reached via bus - and the task of surviving in LA without a car seemed surmountable. Not easy, but doable.

I got through the first day, at least, unscathed: no blisters, no sunburn, and only one solicitor tried to sneakily sell me magazines. "I got no money..." I said, as I walked away.

Did I feel safe? Not really. But I never really feel safe on the trail. And at least I knew I wouldn't get lost. This time.

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Citizen Public Market Serves New Food Hall Fare In Historic Digs

One of the first landmarked buildings of Culver City, California has just gotten new life as a trendy new food hall. 

 

Photo Essay: These Hobbit Houses Are a Long Way from Middle Earth (Updated for 2025)

[Last updated 11/23/25 12:54 PM PT—According to the Los Angeles Times, real estate agent Michael Libow—also the owner of the Spadena House in Beverly Hills—has purchased the The Hobbit Houses for $1.8 million. He says he plans to keep the rental units and is adding this structure to his collection of storybook houses.]

[Updated 3/3/25 12:49 PM PT—The Hobbit Houses have been listed for sale for 10 days. The price is $1.9 million.]

Its official name is the "Lawrence and Martha Joseph Residence and Apartments." 

 

But most people know the complex simply as the "Hobbit Houses."

Where Church and State Collide

Assalamu Alaikum. السلام عليكم

Or, as we say in Catholic church services: "Peace be with you." (And also with you.)



After expanding my horizons a bit over the last few years, I've realized that I'm a big fan of Islamic art. I quite enjoy visiting mosques, though I was raised Catholic and find myself without prayer these days. And I've had the time of my life traveling to two different Muslim countries (Morocco and Tunisia).



Thankfully, it turns out I don't have to hop a plane to North Africa or the Middle East to visit one—because there's a big one in Culver City that accepts visitors of all faiths.



It's a little complicated, though, because lots of non-Muslims don't feel so comfortable with this mosque in a major LA suburb. Maybe that's because it was initially bankrolled by Saudi Arabia—specifically, $8 million to open it in 1998, donated by the (now late) Saudi King Fahd and his son, Crown Prince Abdullah ibn Abdulaziz (though the mosque no longer receives funds from overseas—instead sustained by donations from its congregants).



And a recently declassified report from the FBI identified it as a site of "extremist-related activity both before and after September 11." (Suspiciously, the mildly redacted document has been moved from its original file location on the U.S. House of Representatives Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence website.)



And, it's true that 15 of the 19 terrorists associated with the 9/11 attacks hailed from Saudi Arabia.



It's possible one or more of them may have attended the Culver City mosque for whatever reason at any point during their time on the West Coast.



But then again, Saudi Arabia wasn't included in the recent so-called "Muslim Ban [archived link]."

But Saudis have had some troubles crossing our borders in the past—before the current presidential administration, that is. In 2003, the State Department wouldn't let Saudi diplomat Fahad al Thumairy (a high-ranking member of the clergy at the mosque) back into the country.



Somehow, though, the King Fahad Mosque has continued to thrive—and, by all appearances, keep the peace.



That's no easy task, since all Muslims aren't the same. In fact, there are two major denominations of Islam—and they don't always get along with each other very well.



But somehow, surrounded by these hand-painted, patterned tiles...



...that are inscribed with calligraphy...



...and marble walls...



......under that 72-foot minaret...



...and a dome so typical of Islamic architecture...



...the two factions can come together to face the holy city of Mecca (which happens to be in Saudi Arabia) in prayer.



On the one hand, you have the Sunnis—the majority population of Muslims who follow the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad as carried on by the man he deemed his successor.



On the other side of the divide, you've got the minority Shiites (a.k.a. Shia), who claim that the successor should have been a relative of Muhammad—and, judging by blood lines, they've got a certain divine right to accession in the Islamic religion. But Muhammad didn't select one of his relatives before he died back in the year 632 A.D.; so, in practice, his descendants have no power.



Although the Culver City mosque is primarily Sunni-leaning, you can find both Sunni and Shiite Muslims together facing Mecca and praying in its 63,000 square feet of prayer space.



Elsewhere in the world, you'll find most of the Shia in Iran and Iraq. But the Shia have had a hard time uniting even just with each other—instead, splitting off into three different sects. And, as I said, it's complicated—because, judging on religious denomination alone, there's no clear way to differentiate the "good guys" from the "bad guys."



And whenever the majority—in this case, the Sunnis—is given absolute power without a system of checks and balances, disaster is practically inevitable. Once seen as loving, peace-making people, the Sunnis are now better-known for their militant faction (the minority within the majority faith) that has given rise to ISIS.



In Iraq and Syria (the last "I" and "S" in ISIS), dissent has become deadly. The Islamic State seized large portions of both countries and have made enemies out of just about everybody.

Sunnis are executing Shia based on faith alone (under the assumption that the Shia are unbelievers). But plenty of Sunnis have died as a result of the attacks, too, despite being on the "right" side of the argument.

Sometimes it seems like these radicals are just trying to bring on the apocalypse. They're trying to tear everything down and start anew. They're ready to blow up whatever they need to, no matter who gets hurt in the process. The casualties are "a small price to pay" for the larger goal at hand.

Unfortunately, the Islamic State is not so much a religious group as a militia. It's a political and military movement, not a religious one.

But it leverages religion to make a point.

The King Fahad Mosque has been reported to "reject Western values." Maybe that's because it encourages those who walk through its doors to cover up a little more than we Californians are used to. Or maybe it's because you're asked to remove your shoes before entering and, if you're a woman, to head upstairs for your own distraction-free "safe space" for prayer, far from the male gaze.

Or maybe it's because you may break bread and participate in interfaith services at the mosque, no matter how you pray, who you pray to, or what you think of Muslims. You are welcome there all the same.

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Photo Essay: Southern California's Repository of Eastern Bloc Artifacts, Under Construction

You wouldn't think there'd be much in the way of resources to research the Eastern Bloc in Southern California, but of course our country's western shores were incredibly involved in protecting the homeland during the Cold War—as evidenced by our Nike missile sites, air raid sirens, and battleships that you can still see here today.



And after now having traveled to three countries that were intimately involved in Communism and the Soviet regime—Hungary, Cuba, and most recently Ukraine—I'm particularly excited for our own local "Cold War Museum" to reopen in its new location in Culver City.



The Wende Museum was formerly tucked away in an office park next to Holy Cross Cemetery. It would be pretty difficult to find if you weren't actively looking for it (and even if you were).



But on November 18, 2017, the Wende will celebrate its grand opening in its new location—the former National Guard Armory on Culver Boulevard, right next to Veterans Memorial Park.



It's so exciting that the current mayor of Berlin (a 50-year sister city to Los Angeles) came to have a look.



And that meant some of us also got to take a peek inside at the work-in-progress.



Built in 1949, the National Guard vacated the armory in 2012. At that point, the Wende Museum was just 10 years old and had already outgrown its gallery space and storage and was looking for a new home, located somewhere more central and more historically aligned with the museum's mission.



Not to mention the fact that the new space is more than double the size of its former location.



And so, we're just about a week away from the completion of this museum's own "wende"—which refers not only to its own transformation (or, from the German word, "turning point," as with the fall of the Berlin Wall) but also its adaptive reuse of a derelict building.



Of course, ironically that required the construction of some walls in the new space—which was the only way to open this cultural and historical institution to even more people.



And that's important, since the Wende is the only museum of its kind in the U.S.



And while you might stumble upon an artifact or two from the time when the East and West were kept forcibly separate...



...it can be difficult to understand what they mean in the context of it all without someone to explain it to you.



Historically, the Wende has curated its enormous collection (of over 100,000 books, photographs, paintings, textiles, furniture, ephemera, and more) in thematic exhibitions...

...focusing on anything from dining in and dining out...



...to the role of women, when "equality" meant doing double duty both in the workforce and in the home.



There's even a pretty rad collection of Communist-era spy equipment, radios, and other electronics.



Of course, by its nature and its name, the museum veers away from current Communist republics like China and Cuba. Those locales will become much more interesting from a historical perspective when they each experience their own wende.



So, instead, you'll find a lot of statues and busts of Lenin with a number of different geographic origins (each having their own nuanced design characteristics, like some with a particularly cartoonish and villainous pointy chin).



And, of course, pieces of the Berlin Wall. The Wende currently displays one section (painted by French street artist Thierry Noir) at its former location that will move to the new one.

Photo by Christine Rank [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

But it also owns and has installed 10 other segments of the wall across from LACMA at 5900 Wilshire Boulevard, all part of the largest stretch of the original wall that you'll find anywhere outside of Germany.

Stay tuned for dispatches from the grand opening celebration on November 18, 2017.

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