Attention: This post was modified from its original two photographs and a minimal amount of text and updated in November 2022 to better represent what we did over the course of the day.
Something left out of the original post was the motivating idea behind this day in and around Los Angeles. You see, we were avid Giant Robot magazine subscribers back then who loved everything that was being produced out of the founders’ shop on Sawtelle Boulevard in Los Angeles. One particular feature in the magazine with which I was enamored was their “Perfect Day” articles that would have artists from various places describe their perfect day and send the guys photos depicting that day. This has inspired many of our days out traveling in America, and this particular bolt to Southern California is one of those Perfect Day adventures.
We were up and gone early this Saturday morning, getting out of Phoenix by 6:00 a.m.
With only minutes to spare, we just barely made the last tour of the Hollywood Forever Cemetery at 12:00 p.m., led by the Art Deco Society. While I certainly enjoyed the Ramones from 1976 through about 1978, the Sex Pistols and Black Flag were channeling the kind of anger that was coursing through my veins growing up here in Los Angeles. By the time I was 16 my thinking at the time was less than flattering concerning the Ramones. To this day, in 2022, I still do not feel nostalgic for their sound. I’m opening our visit to the cemetery with this because the gravestone for Carl “Alfalfa” Switzer was sad and weedy.
Can’t say I ever understood the appeal of Valentino, but then again, I wasn’t around in the early 20th century to witness it. Maybe this thing about dying young (he was 31 years old) when audiences think you’ve barely made a mark cements people into extended fame as their death denies the world knowing the extent of their talents?
Most of the names here will be unknown to a majority of people who visit, except for Quentin Tarantino.
Funny, at one moment, I’m saying I have no connection to Valentino and the early 20th century, and yet here I am sharing the simple gravestone of Charlie Chaplin’s mother, Hannah Chaplin. Regarding the Little Tramp, I think I could identify with Chaplin as there always seemed something mischievous and rebellious about not only his famous character but also the man.
The grave of Cecil B. DeMille and his wife. This guy was one of the greats of Hollywood and one of the founders of Paramount Pictures. You didn’t grow up in Southern California and not know of his stature.
As I said, the Art Deco Society put on our tour; great job to the actors who brought us into Hollywood’s past.
It just so happened that a place – not often open to the public – had, for a forgotten reason, unlocked its doors and allowed those of us on this special tour a peek into the Clark Mausoleum.
And that voice from my childhood seems like a good place to leave the Hollywood Forever Cemetery; rest in peace, Mr. Mel Blanc. For those who may not know it, he was the voice of Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Porky Pig, Barney Rubble, Tweety Bird, Daffy Duck, and Mr. Spacely from the Jetsons movie, which was also his final performance before life told him, “That’s all folks.”
Our friend Mark Shimer then joined us for a bite to eat at GR/Eats, a little cafe opened by the guys behind Giant Robot.
Across the street, it was obvious that we’d visit the Giant Robot shop.
In retrospect, I’m happy we didn’t buy these as they didn’t increase in value.
Boarding a tram for a short ride and our last stop with Mark for the day.
We are at the Getty Museum.
I’ve tried telling Caroline for years that a little “slappy-slappy” has always been enjoyed by damsels and people who live on thrones. She reminds me that she’s not a f$&@ing damsel and that I can dismount my throne and high horse, and still, there will be no “slappy-slappy.”
While it’s not the Trevi Fountain in Rome, there’s something quite elegant about this corner of the museum grounds.
The Deposition is the kind of art from the Middle Ages I can get into.
The Getty Museum is here because Mr. John Paul Getty left his estate to his J. Paul Getty Museum Trust with a mandate that they spend his money.
I’m telling you that Jan Brueghel the Elder knew something about psychedelics; I’m certain of it. This piece is titled The Entry of the Animals into Noah’s Ark, but if you really want to be taken by this man’s work, visit his altarpiece in Colmar, France. You’ll know firsthand that he was dabbling in mushrooms or something.
Striking colors, hints of otherness, the guy in the background wildly gesturing, lots of insects, it all smacks of something dramatic about to happen if you ask me. I can’t be sure that’s what Jan van Huysum tried to convey in this Fruit Piece, but that’s what I’m getting.
Until today, I didn’t even know who Franz Xaver Winterhalter was, but now here I am looking at his work titled Leonilla, Princess of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn.
It’s been gray all day here in the Los Angeles basin, but as you saw from the first photo at the California state line, we did have blue skies to begin with, and it doesn’t matter as we love gray and fog because they are two things almost non-existent in Phoenix, Arizona. And with leaving the Getty Center, Mark bids us adieu, but our Perfect Day is far from over.
Oh yeah, to go where few white men and women tread lets Caroline and I know we’ve found the right place. Dinner is at Ramenya – a Japanese Noodle Shop.
A perfect bowl of ramen.
We have a short bit of time left before the final act of the day, so why not head out on the Santa Monica Pier to listen to the surf roll in, listen in on Arthur Nakane’s 1-Man Band, who was even on Jimmy Kimmel this past February, watch some kids on Dance Dance Revolution, and just enjoy the cool California coastal air.
We ended the night watching Naked in Ashes at the Nuart Landmark Theater and stayed at the Ramona Inn in Little India. This was our Perfect Day.
