The Dedalus Log

I love to go a-wandering,
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.

Val-deri, val-dera
Val-dera
Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-deri, val-dera
My knapsack on my back
(Happy Wanderer, by Friedrick Wilhelm-Moller: 1946?)



It occurred to me as I was driving the other day that I always wished I had the time to visit places in and around Los Angeles and Southern California that I never had the chance to see. As a child, I was fortunate to have parents who never let insufficient money be an impediment to visiting and exploring the free and inexpensive attractions and locales the city offered to a family with four, then five, and then six kids. In high school and college, I was lucky to have friends and acquaintances that acted on these same impulses and invited me along. When we were dating, Kathy and I took many drives around the city, looking for new places and people to visit on Saturdays and Sundays. We did it with our two kids for a while, until their own social and athletic commitments started taking up their time. You know what I mean. Someone mentioned a location or event that you’d heard about all your life, and you’d think, “I’d love to see that someday”. I was born in LA, and lived in Southern California all my life, and yet there are hundreds of places I’ve never seen for myself – only heard or read about. It also occurred to me while I drove, that I now had the ability to experience “that someday”.

 

Strangely enough, the one place that came immediately to mind in the midst of these musings was the Watts Towers. I remember first hearing of them from Ed Seydoux, a tiny and very fragile classmate in high school. He mentioned them during a class discussion, while criticizing how few white, Westside and South Bay residents ever traveled outside of their middle class neighborhoods to explore other parts of our ethnically and racially diverse city. Having lived in and visited family members throughout East Los Angeles and Lincoln Heights, I understood and supported his argument, but I knew nothing about these towers, or where they were located. In time (through television, magazines, and conversations), I learned that the towers were “folk-architectural” structures built by Simon Rodia between 1921 and 1955, in the South Los Angeles community of Watts. Since they were built in the center of what became the most racially isolated African-American ghetto in Los Angeles, the towers never attracted large numbers of outside visitors or tourists, but I’ve never stopped being curious about them. In fact, their size and legend grew throughout the years.

So, since I now find myself in the enviable position of having the time to drive, sightsee, and visit ANY place in L.A., WHENEVER I wish; I decided to get off my butt and do it. I’m dedicating Wednesdays as my official “wandering days”- days on which I’ll post the photos and commentary of my latest sightseeing locales in Southern California. I’ve even chosen theme music; an odd German polka song I heard on T.V. in the 50’s, during the ending credits of the old travelogue, The Happy Wanderer.  I’m hoping to concentrate on sites I’ve never seen or visiting childhood locales I’d like to rediscover as an adult. My first target was The Watts Towers.

The Watts Towers are readily accessible by freeway (which is ideal in Southern California). They are just off the 105 Interstate Highway at Wilmington Avenue. I started my urban safari at the northernmost of Los Angeles, the city of Pasadena. I took the South Arroyo Parkway to the 110 Pasadena Freeway and traveled eight miles south, through downtown L.A., where it intersected with the 101 Hollywood Freeway and “morphed” into the 110 Harbor Freeway at the Four-level interchange. After driving ten minutes through the heart of South Los Angeles, I merged onto the East 105 Century Freeway for about 3 or 4 minutes, and then exited at South Wilmington Avenue, in Watts. I made a left on Wilmington Ave and went north about one mile to 108^th Street, following the signs to the Towers. I turned left on 108^th St and drove one block to Willowbrook Ave, just in front of the Metro Blue Line tracks. I made a right on Willowbrook and another quick right onto 107^th Street. At that point the three main towers were clearly visible, and the adjacent Art Center and State Historical Park. Two things struck me as I parked along the short dead end street: the area had changed very little in 23 years, and the steel and mortar spirals I spied were shorter than expected.

The last time I traveled through Watts was in 1985, when I was serving as an Instructional Advisor to 6 new teachers at Markham Junior and Jordan High Schools. I remembered driving down those cold, dull streets in the early chill of morning, studying the small groups of black men, young and old, who stood on corner sidewalks.  Those lean and gaunt men seemed to mill and arrange themselves around barren storefronts, talking and staring at the cars that passed them bye. This stark tableau, which I saw repeated on corner after corner, emanated an almost tangible odor of ennui and despair. These weren’t peddlers hawking fruit, or day laborers in front of a do-it-yourself hardware store, waiting expectantly for a contractor or homeowner to drive up offering jobs. As laughing and giggling children passed by on their way to schools, these men had no goals, nor purpose, or destinations. In the bright glare of 2009, driving along Wilmington Ave at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, I still saw those small, passive cliques on street corners.

Honestly, I suppose I wanted to see something on the scale of the Eiffel Tower. I imagined huge, massive structures that were visible for miles and miles, and dominating the South Los Angeles skyline. Frankly, I didn’t notice Simon Rodia’s towers until I drove up to them on 107^th Street. That is what time, longing, and fantasy did to my common sense. However, I’m happy to report, that once I started photographing the towers, I was reaffirmed and even optimistic. The towers were uplifting and exhilarating sights, rising like proud spirals of hope in the deep blue skies of the city.

The Watts Towers website can give you all the interesting facts, figures, and stories about these famous, angelic obelisks. I’ve included a short selection of photos above, but if you’re interested in viewing my entire album, click on my hyperlink, 2009-10-23 Watts Towers Album to see my Flickr account. In the meantime, feel free to suggests any of your favorite sights, locales, or places. I'm just starting and I need all the help I can get.