Downtown
Los Angeles and
the Politics of Pride and Prejudice
by
Lauren Char
As
with many things in Los Angeles, what the Walt Disney Concert
Hall represents directly depends on where you stand.
From the outside, the Walt Disney Concert Hall's asymmetrical
and jagged design arches in several directions toward the
sky. The shinning steel panels that plate the exterior sparkle
in the sun, adding life to the otherwise drab surroundings.
On
the inside, pockets of carefully placed glass ceiling windows
let the California sunlight stream in through the hall, softly
illuminating the lavishly furnished interior. Wooden pillars
shaped like gigantic trees support the upper balconies above
the main foyer, and inside the hall itself, bright floral
printed seats completely surround the elegant wooden stage.
Amidst
this entire spectacle, it is hard to imagine that the music
hall was almost never built. Planning disputes and ballooning
development costs plagued the project for over a decade. Now
after sixteen long years, the newly completed Walt Disney
Concert Hall must live up to some great expectations. City
officials hope that in the future, the hall will become a
cultural icon, ushering in a new era for Los Angeles by stimulating
the revitalization of the downtown region. But given the past
history of urban development in downtown Los Angeles, these
ambitions seem lofty, especially when compared to the dismal
reality of the area today. Socio-economic divisions are deeply
woven in the urban fabric of the city, but are not always
as easily apparent as one may think. As with many things in
Los Angeles, what the Walt Disney Concert Hall represents
directly depends on where you stand. For those with a view
from the top of Bunker Hill, the newest addition to the Music
Center seems like a large step forward toward the economic
and cultural revitalization of downtown; but for those at
the bottom of the hill, the angular steel-plated building
seems like an impenetrable fortress of wealth and privilege.
This
striking paradox is certainly not a new phenomenon in Los
Angeles. Great writers and historians have long struggled
to classify the city as either a success or failure of the
great urban design that its planners envisioned. Indeed, Scott
Timberg and Dana Gioia devote an entire book on the subject,
editing a collection of essays under the title, The Misread
City. They explore how, like the Music Center, the fate of
the entire city depends on whom you ask. For example, in one
of the essays, "Dueling Prophets of Next L.A.," Susan Moffat
examines how two influential authors, Mike Davis and Kevin
Starr, have come to shape two polar-opposite views of the
city.
Dichotomies
shape different conceptions of downtown LA.
Moffat describes how
Davis' book, City of Quartz, contains sharp criticisms of Los
Angeles as the "ultimate gladiatorial arena of Darwinian capitalism,"
while Starr's writing in Material Dreams celebrates the "entrepreneurial,
Progressive foundations of this 'great Gatsby of American cities'"
(31). Davis presents a dreary outlook—a city that operates
upon the principles of survival of the fittest, where the "victims
of capitalism" find only repression and despair (Moffat, 32).
Starr, on the other hand, captures a more hopeful view of the
city as place where opportunities abound for the working class
who seek to live out the American Dream.
To
extend this argument, Davis would probably characterize the
new Disney Concert Hall as an ironic oasis in the midst of
urban decay, while Starr would choose to see it as the palace
of the "Emerald City" that he describes in chapter four of
Material Dreams. Yet despite their differences, Davis and
Starr "have one agenda in common: the defense of public space
and the civic life it represents in a metropolis that is increasingly
walling itself off into gated communities and fortress-like
patios" (Moffat, 32). However, for Davis this manifests itself
in sharp criticisms of exclusive uses of public space, like
the Disney Hall, which he believes creates more segregation
as the rich displace the poor; whereas Starr's reaction is
more optimistic in that he sees an opportunity to foster a
sense of community and to rebuild the neighborhood. Yet after
examining and comparing the validity of both claims, it is
Davis' view that is best supported by the complex history
of urban development in the downtown region.
For those who choose
to see the situation as Davis does, the politics of the Disney
Hall and the Music Center are full of prejudice and abuses
of privilege that have become deeply ingrained by the urban
planning of the city. Many of these problems stem from the
fact that throughout much of its history, Los Angeles has
long struggled to maintain its image as a world city. When
compared to other metropolitan areas, the downtown region
of Los Angeles seems strangely insignificant—it connotes
no real sense of presence, but seems to exist as a mere cluster
of skyscrapers that sprout awkwardly in the middle of the
low-rise, urban sprawl.
For
decades, downtown Los Angeles played catch-up.
One person who agrees
with Davis' assessment of the city is Robert Fulton, urban
planning expert and author of The Reluctant Metropolis. In
his chapter, "The Taking of Parcel K," he argues that "[s]ince
its peak in the 1920s, downtown has eroded in most Angelenos'
mental maps from the center of civic life to little more than
a footnote" (229). Today, most Angelenos regard downtown as
a mere conglomeration of office space—a place of little
significance, unless they are among the few that are somehow
connected to what Fulton terms the "blueblood elite" (229).
By these people he refers to those with ties to the old generation
of power brokers or the great engineers of the Los Angeles
growth machine—who, for better or worse, envisioned a
future for the city as a cultural center, and thus began unnaturally
imposing the fragmented pieces of one upon the existing urban
landscape.
The new downtown that
emerged as a result of their diligence is very much a part of
the bustling metropolis of today, but it does not have the rich
history and defining institutions characteristic of other world
cities.
Many of the cultural institutions in Los Angeles were only added
recently by developers in an attempt to give it a world-class
standing among the other prominent cities in the country. For
although Los Angeles now boasts a plethora of museums and performing
arts venues, it cannot compare to the standing of other major
cities such as New York, Chicago, and Boston that have historically
been known as national centers of culture. Many of the cultural
institutions in Los Angeles were only added recently by developers
in an attempt to give it a world-class standing among the other
prominent cities in the country. Indeed, before the construction
of the Music Center in downtown Los Angeles in 1964, the city
lacked a consolidated performing arts venue—the Los Angeles
Philharmonic first performed in the Trinity Auditorium and later
played in the Philharmonic Hall; the opera company was based
out of the Shrine Auditorium; and other small theatres doubled
as performance venues for various groups. In addition, many
of these separate and independent facilities could not adequately
accommodate the groups that they housed. In short, the city
desperately needed a venue through which its music culture could
manifest itself. It was in this atmosphere of the 1970s and
1980s that the blueblood elite began to create the foundations
for the cultural institutions that they believed a world-class
city should have.
A
new downtown further separated ethnic and class disparities.
Originally, downtown
Los Angeles was located east of its present location, in what
is now considered the historic core of the city. Composed of
multi-storied office buildings, the old downtown bustled with
the main veins of Broadway and Spring Street running through
its heart. Even back then, whites dominated the downtown region
while the surrounding areas housed the ethnic minorities. Although
whites primarily occupied the region, the ethnic composition
of the historic core changed over time because the old downtown
could not resist the city's astounding rate of unparalleled
growth.
Then in the 1960s,
urban planners decided that Los Angeles needed a defining
skyline. They felt that a new business district filled with
skyscrapers would complete Los Angeles' transition into a
world city. But in the minds of the urban planners, the term
'world city' meant a high standing in international commerce
and culture, and not necessarily the integration of Los Angeles'
ethnically diverse population. So when the time came to construct
the city's skyscrapers, the urban planners did not build directly
on the site of the old downtown, but instead planted the seeds
for a new one in the historically white-Anglo community located
on Bunker Hill.
Throughout the
1960s and 70s, a new downtown slowly emerged while the ethnic
minorities filled the void in the historic core left after
the flight of the white population. The end result was that
the new downtown was even more racially structured than the
old one. For the high-class whites, downtown Los Angeles served
as a working district and not as a place of residence. When
they returned to their suburbs at the end of each working
day, downtown became largely unused space that was inaccessible
to the ethnic minorities—the Latinos, African Americans,
and Asian Americans—who actually lived in the area.
Furthermore, since many of the members of these ethnic communities
could not speak English well enough or did not possess the
financial and political status to influence decision-making
in their community, white dominance prevailed. Ultimately,
the white-Anglo majority possessed the sole power in shaping
the defining cornerstone for music culture in Los Angeles,
while the needs of the ethnic minorities and the poor class
remained in the distant background.
In the preliminary
design for the Music Center, city officials wanted to ensure
that the establishment would create revenue for Los Angeles.
A study done by the Arthur D. Little Inc. reported: "Since
the income…derives from admission charges, the greatest
benefit will come from a location offering the largest potential
market" (47).
The
Music Center would primarily serve the elite.
With its central
location and close proximity to major businesses, downtown
Los Angeles seemed to offer the perfect site for the new Music
Center. However, the urban planners only concerned themselves
with the facility's accessibility to the white population.
Despite its placement near the ethnic communities, the Music
Center would primarily serve the elite as place to celebrate
the musical traditions of white-Anglo culture. Meanwhile,
the ethnic minorities could only watch from the bottom of
the hill as preparations were made to build a facility that
the majority of them would never use.
However, the early
proposals for the Music Center failed due to additional disputes
over planning and funding of the project. After three failed
attempts to bring the project to life, the County Board of
Supervisors appointed Dorothy Buffum Chandler, wife to the
publisher of the Los Angeles Times, to head a committee to
create a new plan for the Music Center.
Meanwhile, the ethnic minorities could only watch from the bottom
of the hill as preparations were made to build a facility that
the majority of them would never use. From the beginnings of
her leadership in the 1960s, she tirelessly began soliciting
the elite white-class for donations to support a refined music
culture in Los Angeles. Her one-person crusade to make the Music
Center a reality resulted in private donations totaling over
20 million dollars. In response to the overwhelming support
by the white community, the city approved the site and raised
the remaining difference to cover the costs of the facility.
The Music Center opened in December 1964 with only a single
concert hall, but eventually expanded to include two other theatres.
Finally, the blueblood elite had their coveted Music Center.
Yet, despite all
the stumbling blocks on the way, both the wealthy and those
who share Kevin Starr's vision of Los Angeles, pride themselves
on the Music Center's success. Thomas M. Self compares the
facility's achievements to the crowning cultural contributions
made by the Greeks, calling the Music Center a "20th Century
Parthenon on our downtown Acropolis" (126). The newfound recognition
of the Music Center as a legitimate cultural hub certainly
gave the elite something to celebrate. In addition, the venue
also opened the doors for the funding of other projects such
as the Los Angeles County Art Museum, aid to education, and
other civic causes—all of which prompted Ernest E. Debs,
a man heavily involved in the planning of the project, to
boldly remark that "[t]he Music Center has helped centralize
Los Angeles…without the Music Center we wouldn't have
rehabilitated Bunker Hill" (Self, 126).
Self
interest complicates downtown development.
Perhaps Bunker Hill
had been saved, but what about the outlying areas of the downtown
region? Throughout the entire process, very few measures were
taken to accommodate the ethnic and lower class communities
of the area. For many struggling families, tickets to the
Music Center were an unaffordable luxury.
The elites did not see the Music Center as an alienating piece of urban design,
but rather as a monument to the art and culture that had…successfully
improved civic life in the region. Members of the lower class
were not only excluded from attending concerts, but their cultural
and ethnic identities were not well represented in the music
performed at the hall. Nevertheless, the elites did not see
the Music Center as an alienating piece of urban design, but
rather as a monument to the art and culture that had, in their
minds, successfully improved civic life in the region.
This same group
also remained optimistic when plans were later announced to
expand the existing Music Center with the addition of another
hall. But as in the past, the plans for this extension were
plagued by disputes and self-interest. Fulton observes the
following about the chosen site for the expansion:
Partly because
of [the parcels'] value, partly because of their location,
they were coveted by both the bluebloods and the cash-strapped
county government…And in the hot real estate market
of the 1980s, it was this covetousness, not their crucial
role as a piece of urban design, that dictated the terms
of the struggle over how they should be used. (233)
The government
wanted to create more office space and parking structures
to increase their revenue, while the Music Center committee
adamantly refused to place another structure on the same lot
as the new concert hall. With neither side giving in, the
project came to a complete halt.
Eventually, the
dispute over the Music Center became public in 1987, when
the Los Angeles Times published an article that that was read
by thousands, including one Lillian Disney. Wife of the late
Walt Disney, Lillian had been looking for an opportunity to
give a large philanthropic gift in commemoration of her husband,
and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. After contacting
her lawyers, she offered the Music Center committee $50 million
toward the construction of a concert hall that would carry
her husband's name. The committee readily accepted the money
and the conditions she set and began working on the project
with Frank Gehry as the selected architect.
Sixteen
years of strife were well worth it.
However, severe
problems arose when Gehry's design turned out to be much more
expensive than anyone had previously estimated.
At one point, the city was forced to begin building the parking
structure beneath the site for the hall, without knowing whether
or not the Disney Hall would ever be built above. After several
changes in leadership and significant fundraising drives, the
Walt Disney Hall was finally completed in the fall of 2003,
with the Disney family contributing over $100 million in total
gifts for the $247 million dollar building.
Yet hopefuls like
Kevin Starr would say that the sixteen years of strife were
well worth it, and supporters of the Disney Hall believe that
it is well on its way to becoming a recognized cultural icon.
Currently, the Los Angeles Philharmonic is attracting a lot
more attention with its new venue and is bringing in even
more world-renown artists into the city. Zev Yaroslavsky,
a Los Angeles County Supervisor remarked, "You can't overstate
the impact that Disney Concert Hall is going to have on every
cultural aspect of this town…Over time, it will be to
Los Angeles what the Eiffel Tower is to Paris, and what Big
Ben is to London." ("A New"). However, one must wonder how
the new music hall will ever fully achieve the status as a
defining icon of the city, when, despite its eye-grabbing
architecture, it is not a part of the skyline of downtown
Los Angeles. The Disney Concert Hall is not visible from the
freeways that surround it, and when walking on foot, the low-rise
building is often hidden behind towering skyscrapers.
But to give credit
to Starr's argument, there are some encouraging signs that
the Music Center will be more inviting to its surrounding
neighbors than it has been in the past. The venue is open
during the day to the public for tours at a small charge,
and there is free access to an enclosed garden within the
structure. According to the website the garden is in memory
to the late Lillian Disney, who never got to see her hall
completed. There is a beautiful tiled fountain and "café-style
tables and chairs make the garden a social space" for public
enjoyment ("Visitor" 3). The new building also houses a children's
amphitheater and holds adult classes and other educational
activities, offered as joint ventures between the Disney Hall
and many of the surrounding museums and cultural institutions
("Education" 1). Finally, the hall offers student and senior
rush ticket prices for certain performances that make concert
going more affordable for many potential patrons.
Garden
of peace closed to public.
However, even these
improvements are not without flaw. For instance, in its first
season, the tickets for the Los Angeles Philharmonic are nearly
sold out, making rush ticket prices nearly impossible to attain.
Even if special pricing were offered, rush tickets are only
available for purchase two hours before a performance. This
deters commuters who do not want to drive into the city without
knowing whether or not they will be able to secure tickets
at a reasonable price. Also, parking in the new structure
below the hall can come out to as much as $25, a large sum
of money that most people are unwilling to pay.
Furthermore, the
garden is completely concealed within the confines of the
hall and is not visible from the street, providing just another
ironic example of a sealed off public space within an already
sealed off space. This case of repressive architecture harkens
back to the final blow dealt to the lower-income downtown
residents after the original Music Center was first completed
in 1964. The final component of that design was a bronze monument
entitled "Peace on Earth" that was erected in the center courtyard
between the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and the Ahmanson Theater.
It depicts a dove
descending to earth with a heavenly message of peace that
the people below eagerly receive. This prayer for a harmonious
existence captures the hypocrisy of the elite class. How could
they possibly hope for peace and equality when the Music Center
they created remains unequally accessible to all people in
Los Angeles? The monument serves as a painful reminder of
the social and economic barriers that exist between various
ethnic identities in Los Angeles today .
If we take the
Music Center as a predictor of the fate of the Disney Hall,
with time we will see Davis' model unfold as the gap between
the rich and poor becomes ever painfully more evident. Though
the future is uncertain, Tridib Banerjee, a professor of Urban
and Regional Planning at the University of Southern California,
recognizes the unrealized potential of the Music Center commenting
that "[i]deally, this would be…a boulevard full of outdoor
cafes, kiosks—a true pedestrian space" ("Disney," 9F).
But the failure of the Music Center to unite the surrounding
community does not bode well for the new Disney Hall, and
one must also hope that would further development occur that
it does not continue to displace the people who call downtown
Los Angeles home. Only time will tell whether or not the Walt
Disney Concert Hall is just another example of the politics
of pride and prejudice at work, or whether it is, as we all
hope it will be, something infinitely more special in the
emerging cultural landscape of Los Angeles.
Lauren Char is
from Honolulu, Hawaii. She is currently a junior at the University
of Southern California, majoring in Music Education with a
minor in business. This essay featured in AngeLingo is her
second published piece-at the age of 12, she wrote an article
for Disney Adventures magazine.
Fulton,
William. "The Taking of Parcel K." The Reluctant Metropolis:
The Politics of Urban Growth in Los Angeles. Baltimore:
The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001.
Moffat,
Susan. "Dueling Prophets of Next L.A." The Misread City:
New Literary Los Angeles. Ed. Scott Timberg and Dana Gioia.
Los Angeles: Red Hen Press, 2003 .
Self,
Thomas M. "The Music Center Story." The Music Center Story:
A Decade of Achievement, 1964-1974. Ed. James W. Toland.
Los Angeles: Petersen Publishing Co., 1974. Pp. 4-9, 119-127.
