I traveled to LA many times on business, always staying on Wiltshire Avenue at the Grand. Wiltshire cut across LA like a zipper, unlocking each district along the way. The huge Grand Hotel defined the divide between downtown and the districts stretching all the way to Hollywood. It opened in 1952 and showed it’s age. Plans were already underway for its demolition and replacement with even a grander property.
Still the staff held on, from the check in people to restaurant staff, serving the property for years. Their career was here and they still performed their duties the same as before. It was a trait that I found earmarked LA. The people who lived in this megalopolis for a long time acquired a quietness about the place. They went about their business each day, keeping to them selves, respecting the city and the city in turn letting them live their lives.
I always took my camera with me as I roamed the arts district, fashion streets, Korea town, the Miracle mile, and tawdry side streets. There was none of my roaming that defined LA completely, my camera only caught slices of what made the place. All to be pondered later. Did I understand LA in the end? A friend of mine in LA when asked the same question simply replied, “It’s just another day in LA.”
