Before the 101

These two historic homes have avoided demolition and are headed to Altadena! Scroll through for a peek at the process… The homes are first artfully dismantled (their significant pieces numbered and bundled for reassembly) and cut into 15-foot slices like a loaf of bread. Each section is then hoisted onto a wide-load truck for transport along a route carefully-planned to avoid obstacles like overpasses and railroad crossings. It’s fascinating! Incredibly, this is the second relocation for 2919 St. George (slides 2-10). In 1948, it made headlines when owner Alice Blackburn hosted a house-moving party as the 1910 Craftsman journeyed from Mariposa Avenue, where it had been directly in the Hollywood Freeway’s path. As for 1853 Taft (slides 11-20), the 114-year-old charmer survived the wrecking ball that took out its next-door neighbors at 1845 and 1857 Taft. It’s bittersweet, but I’m so thankful 1853 has found a greater purpose. The families who will soon call these special places home are the most resilient, joyful, inspiring people and they deserve every bit of this wonderful next chapter. None of this would be possible without house-mover extraordinaire Brad Chambers, who guided Morgan Sykes Jaybush (@66olds ) and @omgivning_ . Fingers crossed this is only the beginning!

Archibald and Daisy Murdock’s home at 1910 N. Serrano Avenue was made-to-order… straight from the pages of Pacific Ready-Cut’s 1925 catalog. For $7,275, the tailor and his wife received a Spanish-style stucco home with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, all of which arrived in a 12,000-piece kit complete with lumber, hardware, windows, doors, paint, even nails (slide 20). Construction could be completed in 28 days. As were all Pacific Ready-Cut homes, the interior was completely customizable. The Murdocks tailored the home by selecting their preferred lighting, plumbing, trim details, door styles, breakfast nook, and assorted built-in features for the kitchen, bathroom, and dining room. In the living room, they upgraded the fireplace mantel with premium Batchelder tiles. Arch died in December 1937, and within weeks Daisy put the home on the market. She also liquidated its contents, including a Straube walnut grand piano, down-filled club chairs, Haviland china, and “like new” Electrolux vacuum cleaner. Between 1908 and 1940, Pacific Ready-Cut sold 37,000 ready-to-assemble homes based on 1,800 different plans spanning architectural styles such as English, Dutch, Colonial, Spanish, Norman, and Italian. There were also kits to construct bungalow courts, schools, gas stations, banks, libraries, and emergency hospitals. The catalog came to life in downtown Los Angeles, where Pacific Ready-Cut developed a mini-community of furnished exhibition homes and a showroom displaying interior features (slides 12-19). When the company ceased operations, the structures were relocated and many are still standing today.

The Mother of Hollywood lived right on the Boulevard at the northeast corner of Wilcox Avenue, named after her first husband. Daeida Wilcox Beveridge, her second husband Philo Beveridge, and their two daughters moved into the Moorish-Mission home in 1907 upon returning to Hollywood after spending a year abroad in Japan. “Green Meadows,” as it was named by original owner Henry Beville, sat on two acres surrounded by dozens of orange and lemon trees, 400 roses, 200 carnations, pineapples, and bananas. Designed by Hunt and Eager (Doheny Mansion on Chester Place), the 10-room home was built for entertaining. Through the recessed porch was a 24-foot reception hall made of oak. To the left, a circular sitting room; to the right, a mahogany dining room with flower alcove. Upstairs, there were four bedrooms, one bathroom, billiard room, and sewing room. Daeida arrived in Los Angeles in 1883 with her husband H. H. Wilcox and purchased 200 acres in the Cahuenga Valley she named “Hollywood.” She took an active role in improving the townsite, specifically the planting of pepper trees and flower beds along the boulevard and early roadways, like Dae Avenue (now Whitley). After Wilcox died in 1892, Daeida carried on his dream to develop Hollywood with her second husband. In a bid to bring world-famous culture to the rural paradise, she sold three acres to French painter Paul de Longpre in exchange for three of his watercolor portraits. He built a garden estate on Cahuenga, adjoining “Green Meadows,” that became a popular tourist attraction and put Hollywood on the map. Six years later, Daeida and her family moved into the former Beville residence next door to de Longpre. Across the street at the southeast corner of Cahuenga, she built Wilcox Hall; at the corner of Ivar, she donated land for the Hollywood Public Library. Daeida died in 1914, but her family continued to live at Green Meadows, even as commercialized Hollywood Boulevard encroached (slide 13). Her daughters demolished the home in 1925, only 23 years after it was built, to make way for Warner Bros. Theatre. They also replaced Wilcox Hall with the Streamline Moderne building still there today.

The Sowden House has become synonymous with Dr. George Hodel and the murder of the Black Dahlia. But who were the Sowdens? Jack, a motion picture set designer, was 28 — not “retired” as often claimed — when he and wife Ruth, a sculptor and hat designer, commissioned Lloyd Wright in 1926 to build their Mayan Revival masterpiece at 5121 Franklin. There was plenty of room for the couple, their 5-year-old daughter Donna, her nanny, a servant, and visitors like the Hollywood Bowl’s guest conductors. All rooms are arranged around an interior court: five bedrooms and three bathrooms on the east; servants quarters, kitchen, and dining room on the west; living room and study on the south; studio and darkroom on the north. In 1929, Ruth filed for divorce from Jack citing “cruel and inhumane treatment.” Five days after it was granted, she married walnut inspector David Rumble Barnett at the Mayan mansion. The newlyweds continued to live here with Donna, whose surname was changed from Sowden to Barnett, until 1936. Jack spent the decade bouncing around between San Francisco, New York City, and Austria. In the Bay Area, he lived in an “unkempt mansion on Turk Street where he oversaw a nightly salon of eclectic revelry,” recalled James Broughton, a poet of the San Francisco Renaissance. “One seldom saw Jack Sowden eat. He was rich enough to live on a continuous diet of whiskey, gentlemen callers, whiplash repartee, and sexual sport… A brash and bawdy host, he would entertain entire football teams or squadrons of the Navy.” By 1940, Sowden was back in LA, where the eclectic revelry continued at his home in Tarzana. One of his party friends was Bruz Fletcher, a songwriter who had fallen on hard times. After a night of drinking in 1941, Sowden discovered Fletcher passed out behind the wheel of a running car in his garage. A handkerchief was tied to the accelerator, yet he presumed Fletcher simply had too much to drink and carried his lifeless body inside. It wasn’t until the next morning when Sowden sobered up that he realized Fletcher was dead. Sowden fell off the face of the earth after this, but eventually resurfaced in San Francisco, where he died in 1958.

With the Save the Cinerama Dome campaign ending, let’s take a look at the owner’s other vacant historic property: Warner Bros. Theatre. Hollywood’s first movie palace designed for sound, the theatre opened on April 26, 1928 with the “part-talking” Glorious Betsy starring Conrad Nagel and Dolores Costello. From the marquee to the stage, it was magnificence without gaudiness. Surrounding the auditorium, a grand promenade is emphasized by artistic archways leading to smoking lounges, cosmetic rooms, and stairways. The coffered ceiling is a work of art, with hand-painted panels framed in ornamental molding. Chandeliers and sconces add romantic lighting. On a wall, a 10-foot scroll (slide 10) conveyed regards “To Our Patrons” from the Warner brothers — Harry, Albert, and Jack (Sam died in 1927). The note detailed the theatre’s amenities, such as an emergency hospital, children’s playroom, and elevator service. The 3,000-seat auditorium was designed like an open-air Spanish court, with the domed ceiling painted blue. On the ground floor, an arcade and interior windows add to the effect. At the balcony level, a panoramic mural can be seen through colonnades — stage left, it looks out at a vista; stage right, there’s a neighboring villa. Bas reliefs of Spanish lords and ladies crown the walls. Four decades after the Warner opened, Pacific Theatres took over and renamed it Hollywood Pacific in 1969. A decade later, they triplexed the theatre, enclosing the balcony level to create two additional screens, which were damaged in the 1994 Northridge earthquake. Months later, the entire theatre closed — and has never reopened. The main auditorium was leased to a church for several years until 2013.  Soon after, the owner proposed a redevelopment project that would raze the historic theatre (except for its facade). Councilmember Mitch O’Farrell intervened and negotiated for the owner to commission a restoration study, but it never happened. Talks resumed in 2017 and went nowhere. It’s been 9 years of silence. The owner does have one active property on the block: 6407-6411 Hollywood, home to Hollywood Heritage’s Preservation Resource Center. Oh, the irony.

POV: You’re standing on Whitley Terrace looking north to Cahuenga Boulevard—and up at the Pilgrimage Cross in 1933. A decade earlier, the 40-foot monument was erected in memory of Christine Wetherill Stevenson, founder of the nearby Pilgrimage Play amphitheater (now the Ford). Wetherill also co-owned the land that would become the Hollywood Bowl (see my recent post on The Formosa bungalows). To the left, 6840 Whitley was originally the home of Carroll Warder, “maker of masks” who used his half of the duplex as his live-work art studio. In 1922 when Wetherill died, Warder organized a memorial, a blanket of flowers from neighbors’ gardens laid onstage at Pilgrimage Play. On the corner is the bungalow of silent film star J. Warren Kerrigan at 2307 Cahuenga (slide 4), “right where the hills bob and dip and form pockets for fields of beautiful flowers to nestle in,” described Motion Picture Magazine. The Swiss Chalet narrowly survived the Hollywood Freeway (slide 5), but was razed in 1988 for a 10-unit concrete eyesore (slide 7). On the other corner was 2255 Cahuenga, the Somers estate. The family purchased the Moorish mansion on seven landscaped acres (slides 8-9) in 1909 from William Curry, the grandfather of Charlie Chaplin’s second wife Lita Grey. In 1921, the land was developed as Whitley Heights Park. After Mrs. Somers died in 1941, the home was cut up into apartments for men employed by the nearby defense plants during the world war. The rent: 50¢/night. In 1956, as the vacant home awaited demolition, vandals made off with a bronze statue of Cupid. Since 1959, the property has been the Mikado Apartments (slide 10). Straight ahead, in what is now the Hollywood Dell, we can see 6602 and 6546 Cahuenga Terrace, and up on the hillside, 2420 Pilgrimage Trail (now Lorenzo Drive), the honeymoon home of actor Wallace Beery and second wife Rita. Two years after this photo was taken, the Italian manor was purchased by Universal Pictures composer Max Rapp, whose extended family lived here for another six decades.

Still under construction here, but you might recognize this house since it made the rounds on Instagram a few weeks ago… The Skinner House on Easterly Terrace was built by architect William Kesling for Mancil Skinner, a freight company owner, and his third wife Rubie (pictured). It’s one of at least two dozen Streamline Moderne residences Kesling designed between 1935 and 1937 in the Silver Lake-Los Feliz area, including Skinner’s asymmetrical sister next door, the Vanderpool House (slides 12-14) — and the model home that inspired it all, down the street at 1519 Easterly (slide 15). The Skinner residence is characterized by a flat roof, deep horizontal eaves, expansive window areas, doors with portholes, chrome bannisters, even a built-in living room sofa. The newlywed couple lived here until early 1939, when they moved to a ranch in Chino. Three years later, Mancil, 39, fell while dismounting a horse and hit his head on a eucalyptus tree, breaking his neck. Without an updated will in place, a legal battle ensued between Mancil’s second wife (mother of two of his four children) and Rubie, with whom he adopted a newborn daughter in 1941. As the toddler was not mentioned in the old will, the second wife contended she was “illegitimate” and not eligible to Mancil’s estate. Rubie testified her husband admitted to fathering the child, despite the fact they paid $225 to an Arizona maternity home for the baby. In the end, Rubie won — and received 4/6th of the estate. Kesling had his own legal issues. Near the completion of the Skinner house, the architect was caught in a building scandal that involved falsifying labor and material claims. In 1936, Kesling and his wife were indicted for fraud after they “exhausted the funds of 22 home builders.” He received two year’s probation and relocated to La Jolla. In Los Angeles, Kesling’s innumerable notable works include Allee Willis’ pink palace in North Hollywood, Wallace Beery’s duplex on Harper Avenue, and the Johnstone House on Lowry Road (slides 16-17).

The Formosa on Hollywood Boulevard was “the prettiest Japanese bungalow cottages in Southern California.” In addition to a three-story apartment house with 20 units, there were eight single-family cottages, each named after a flower: Begonia, Daisy, Ivy, Pansy, Poinsettia (slide 1; right), Poppy, Rose (slide 4), and Wisteria. Across the three acres, it was an unrivaled scenery of exotic gardens; courts for tennis and croquet. From the property, one had views of the boats on the ocean and the snow on Mount Baldy. When the Formosa opened in 1913, apartments with “delightful balconies and sleeping porches” ranged from $50 to $125/month; cottages started at $80. Socials features included musical programs with “dainty refreshments,” tennis tournaments, afternoon teas on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Saturday night card games. During the holidays, a Christmas tree in the lobby was decorated with dozens of tiny stockings filled with candy for the Formosa children, who also received a toy from Santa Claus at the community’s Christmas Eve party. Considered a retreat for “writers and artistic people,” tenants during the first decade include novelist Harold Bell Wright, actor Rudolph Valentino (before he moved to Whitley Heights), actress Constance Bennett, and music teacher Mrs. Artie Mason Carter. In fact, it was a midnight conversation Carter had in the Formosa lobby that led to the construction of the Hollywood Bowl. Christine Wetherill Stevenson owned 65 acres in the Hollywood foothills that she had hoped to use for an amphitheater. When plans fell through, developers began circling, so Stevenson approached Carter, president of the Hollywood Community Chorus. “I believe the spirit I felt and saw in your community sing will carry the project to success,” Stevenson told Carter, offering the land at cost. The money was raised — “and we decided to hold an Easter Sunrise Service as our first Bowl experiment” in 1921, Carter recalled to the LA Record in 1929. As for The Formosa, the enchanting property west of La Brea Avenue was torn down in 1962 and replaced with the 14-story Hollywood Versailles Tower, the tallest apartment building in Hollywood at the time.

A century before Hollywood and Highland became the home of the Academy Awards, the northwest corner was the town’s nucleus: Hotel Hollywood. Opened in 1902 — back when it was Prospect and Highland — the tourist hotel was “superbly situated” between Los Angeles and the beach. There were 50 rooms, each finished in white pine, as well as a dining room, barber shop, and parlors that hosted art exhibitions, wedding receptions, and weekly dances. Out front, a porch lined with rocking chairs wrapped around a rotunda. In the rear of the U-shaped building was a large open court with beds of flowers, red-tile walkways, central fountain, and an arbor where one could sit and enjoy “the most delightful place.” The hotel embodied faith in the future of Hollywood, the “gem of the valley,” and they boomed simultaneously. Nineteen months after the hotel opened, a four-story annex by original architects Dennis & Farwell added another 30 rooms (slides 4-5). In 1906, a third and final wing completed the Hotel Hollywood with 40 additional suites. In the original sketch (slide 6), an open loggia offered a view from the street into a tropical garden, where blossoms and vegetables were grown for house use. The town transformed once the motion picture industry arrived, and so did its suburban resort. By 1915, “you could stand on the front porch at 6 o’clock in the evening and meet nearly every star in Hollywood.” In 1934, the local landmark gained national notoriety with Louella Parson’s “Hollywood Hotel” radio show, which inspired a 1937 film by Busby Berkeley. The historic property was marked for demolition in 1945, but it would be another decade before plans materialized. By then, the rooms were occupied by elderly residents, many of whom were retired actors paying $25/week. “It’s a little like dying,” said hotel manager Leslie Jeffries. “You know you have to go, but you keep hoping it won’t happen.” Hundreds gathered for a public “funeral” at the hotel on April 19, 1956 (slide 12). Eleven days later, guests checked out for the last time, suitcases in hand, and “disappeared into the bright river of humanity that is Hollywood Boulevard.”

Pueblo Revival architecture is a rare sight in Hollywood! This adobe house on Crescent Heights, just north of Sunset Boulevard, was built in 1924 by architect Robert Stacy-Judd while he simultaneously designed the Aztec Hotel in Monrovia (slides 10-16). It was his first attempt to utilize Mayan motifs in domestic architecture—and he had an ambitious vision, based on the original sketch (slide 3). The finished home is an assembly of cubical structures, with the living quarters (two bedrooms and a bathroom) on the north side, opposite the service rooms (kitchen, breakfast room, maids quarters). In between, a long living room (slide 5) is bookended by glass “commanding views of cool shrubbery, grass, and water.” The ceiling is slightly pitched, despite a flat roof, and supported with exposed wooden beams. The dramatic fireplace is Kiva-esque with an arched firebox opening. The rear of the room is a series of French doors leading to a loggia with Aztec-style pillars, patio, and model pool all enclosed by pergola (slide 6). Curb appeal was created by tiny gardens on either side of the house and a semi-circular pool beneath the living room’s massive window. Low walls in the front were “arranged with artistic feeling” but also practical: even the slightest breeze could circulate through them on a hot day. The Pueblo Revival gem was acclaimed in 1925 as “a reminder of the fact that architecture is the art of planning and building; it is more than the ability to decorate construction.” That sentiment makes the home’s fate a heartbreaker. It began in 1980 when Raymond Bilbool (longtime banquet manager at Chasen’s) closed off four windows and changed the zoning to commercial. The next owner, a psychologist, converted it to a medical office and paved over the backyard for six parking spots, in 1983. Four decades later, 1514 Crescent Heights still has signs for “client parking,” but I can’t find any businesses associated with the address. These days, overgrown vegetation has consumed Stacy-Judd’s architectural achievement. As for the Aztec Hotel, a national landmark, it closed for renovations in 2012 and never reopened. Last July, it was listed for $15 million.

In the 1940s, no block in Hollywood had better signage than Vine north of Sunset… even the office supply store glowed in neon at night! Alexander Stationer was the headquarters for school supplies and fountain pens for six decades, three of them right here at 1519 Vine Street. Next door was Beni Gerson, “tailor to the stars” with the price tags to match: custom suits started at $85 (equivalent to $1,200 today). As the menswear shop was located on Radio Row—across from NBC, next to ABC, and around the corner from CBS on Sunset—Gerson extended a 10% discount on hats to studio employees. At the time of the lead image (slides 1-2) in 1947, radio star Tom Breneman hosted his show “Breakfast in Hollywood” at 1525 Vine (slide 5). That December, he expanded next door to 1539 Vine, the former Empire nightclub (which had briefly replaced Hollywood Recreation Center). Four months later in April 1948, Breneman dropped dead from a heart attack and his name was swapped out on the marquee for the American Broadcasting Company (slide 6). Back to the northwest corner of Sunset and Vine… Wallichs Music City (slide 8) revolutionized the modern record store, with listening booths and weekly sales charts. On the second floor was the headquarters for Capitol Records, which Glenn Wallichs cofounded in 1942. Fourteen years later, he moved operations north to a 13-story circular tower at Vine and Yucca that became a Hollywood landmark. When NBC Radio opened in 1938, it signaled a commercial boom on Vine Street. The entire block north to Selma Avenue was redeveloped, except for one structure: a Spanish-style building at the northwest corner (slide 10). Plaster disguised its Churrigueresque details, modernizing the 1927 two-story for a new era on Radio Row. But it would be short-lived, as television entered a post-war golden age. NBC Radio was torn down in 1964; ABC left four years later. Wallichs and Alexander Stationer moved out in the 1970s and the building was demolished in 1982. The rest of the block was leveled in 2002 for the Sunset + Vine apartments.

🚶‍♀️ NEW VIDEO 🚶‍♂️ Just released — a special Beachwood Canyon: Death & Scandals Walking Tour video I filmed with Kathleen from @beforethe101 We hit the streets beneath the Hollywood Sign exploring the darker side of Beachwood Canyon — forgotten tragedies, infamous scandals, mysterious deaths, and the hidden history most people walk right past without ever knowing. If you’ve ever wondered what really happened in one of Hollywood’s most legendary neighborhoods… this walk tells the stories. Watch now and come along with us into the canyon. 👣 Link in bio or cut and paste: https://youtu.be/5uHkgFaIb5Q #HollywoodHistory #WalkingTour #LosAngelesHistory