The Old Way of Seeing.


It’s not likely that we will live to see Pacific Palisades or Altadena constructed in a way that evokes the traditional styles that were wiped out in January’s fires.

There is first the economics of the disaster. Many people will never have enough money to rebuild their homes. Some bought them many years ago, some inherited them. They had lower property taxes whose rates are based on what the original purchase price was.

For some, it was affordable to live in a paid-off home with grandfathered low taxes, next to the Pacific. That accident of time and fortune is gone forever.

The crisis in insuring homes, the cost of materials, the fragility of the economy, the flight of good paying jobs in entertainment, all of it has added up to a disaster that will be hard to climb out of.

There is also the problem of zoning. Where multi-family houses could be built, the powerful will step in (especially in Pacific Palisades) to mandate that every home be single family. And that will invite everyone to construct the ugly, laboratory like boxes that have proliferated on small lots around Southern California in the last 15 years. White, with black windows, unused balconies for joyous parties that never transpire. And security fencing, SUVs and artificial turf.

In Altadena, the destruction is tragic for other reasons. This was a neighborhood amenable to Black residents, and a place where multi-generational households built up wealth and security which was often difficult to obtain when your parents and grandparents were restricted from owning homes in other locations.

The integration of Altadena, the artistry of the homes, the beauty of the setting in the mountains, with many trees, old gardens, and the viability of churches, schools, and craftspeople with unique creations, was stamped upon this town.

Driving yesterday afternoon in 98 degree heat, through the dusty, hot, burned out districts of Altadena, we saw the vast ruins, but also the armies of trucks and workers hauling away the debris, towing away stacks of burned up vehicles, and the neat signs from the government on newly bulldozed and graded empty lots pronouncing them “clean.”

Architecturally, what will Altadena look like in the next ten or twenty years? Will there be a plan to rebuild in a harmonious and humane way, the method that Santa Barbara used after the 1925 earthquake?

“Before the earthquake, a considerable part of the center was built in the Moorish Revival style. After the earthquake, the decision was made to rebuild it in the Spanish Colonial Revival style. This effort was undertaken by the Santa Barbara Community Arts Association, which was founded in the beginning of the 1920s and viewed the earthquake as the opportunity to rebuild the city center in the unified architectural style.”-Wikipedia

Who will protect the Black history and the Black future of Altadena, an ingredient of the larger program of reconstruction that must proceed without killing off that which made Altadena a shining exception?


I’m fairly certain that Pacific Palisades will rebuild faster than Altadena. There is always governmental assistance for the most privileged.

The atrocity of public vagrancy, however, will continue to be pervasive under the current mayoral regime. Here passivity and resignation in the midst of homelessness is considered a virtue in the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.

Mayor Karen Bass has allowed, like her predecessor, the proliferation of trash camping, and is now looking forward, obscenely, to the 2028 Olympics which will place the gruesomeness of Los Angeles in a Potemkin village face lift. She never misses a photo opportunity to speak in her melodious, soothing, sweet, dulcet tones, imploring patience, incrementalism and understanding as 1 building permit a month is approved and 5,900 are in limbo.

Mayor Bass, Billionaire Rick Caruso, Hairdresser Gavin Newsom, are all eager to showcase the vast wealth, power, glamour and celebrity of the city to aid in the reconstruction of the western district of LA. Newsom even stepped up today to actually use the law to remove the trash camps around California. After billions of dollars, the patience of the governor has worn thin, and he has decided it is not a good image for the state to host burning trash fires along the freeways.


But what will the end results of the new post-fire houses look like? Will we once again have to endure architectural experimentation in the cheap, novel, grotesque, ostentatious style that pervades every corner of the region? Will the crumpled up, aluminum foil design of Gehry be our model for the city of the future? Perhaps not, as architects are often not even present in the construction of new houses. Only the general contractor in his pickup truck with his aesthetic refinements.

Will the oppressive sterility of the white box triumph? Or can we have the kind of California dream Will Rogers built? Can we have a piece of gentleness and civilized loveliness please? Or does everything that is built have to be the choice of the sports stadiums, the shopping center developer, the studio honchos? If that is the only way forward, then California is dead; spiritually, culturally, ethically, and economically.

Will Rogers State Park, July 2024. Destroyed January 7, 2025.


Perhaps the old way of seeing, the classical way of designing, the architecture of pre-modernist California, could help heal the disfigurement of the Golden State.

Imagine if you found these types of houses in the rebuilt lots of the fire zones? Could you fall in love with California all over again?

Chinatown in the Rain. Part I.


Chinatown is particularly poignant in the rain. 

The old and tired streets are washed in puddles. Pagodas, lanterns and the color red are reflected in asphalt. 

Everywhere there are old signs, some neon and some plastic, reminding us of families and times from long ago. 

There are old people with canes, umbrellas and face masks out shopping for hot soup and vegetables.

And packs of visitors waiting in line for take-out dim sum.

There are many empty parking lots selling parking spaces for $5 a day.

A big sign advertises Grandview Gardens, Cantonese Food next to a grass filled lot that might have once contained a restaurant. A history of this place is found online. It closed in 1991. 

Thirty-three years ago.

Grandview Gardens: an old sign like a cemetery headstone. Should it not be another restaurant or apartment or apartments over a restaurant? 

Don’t we have a critical, crying need for housing?

Everything moves so fast in Los Angeles. We come here young and eager and wake up neither.

But everything vital and necessary for the humane needs of humanity is tied up in litigation, neglect, bureaucracy, politics and abuse. For years and decades things decline but politicians are always promising the end of homelessness, the end of pedestrians dying in crosswalks, the end of hate, the dawn of tolerance, a new city of walkable, clean, affordable and safe neighborhoods. But I don’t have the funds to move to Vienna, Austria and neither do ten million other Angelenos.

Yet we drive fast, passing thousands sleeping in tents on garbage filled streets and tell ourselves that everything is normal. Another day of murder, another day of car crashes on the news, another walk through a community that has some thriving businesses and many others dying or dead. Have a smoke, get high, meditate. What else can you do?

In the civic imagination, Chinatown is one of Los Angeles’s happier places. Nobody thinks ill of it, they long to come this neighborhood, hobbling along in D- condition, months out of a pandemic that still haunts it. 

City Hall is a ten minute walk away.