Laskins in Los Angeles: 4.18

College day![1]  We head north, I think, out of L.A. anyway and blessedly in the opposite direction of the five solid lanes of traffic going towards the city. 

First stop, the quiet streets of Pasadena and the California Institute of Technology, the tiny University with a massive reputation in the science world – fewer than 1000 undergraduates but counting 72 Nobel laureates among its alumni to date.  There is absolutely nothing doing here today, not a student in sight, although they are setting up for Admitted Students Day and possibly graduation so there are some busy-looking admins running around.  Caltech is a compact campus with lots of fabulous mid-century modern architecture scattered about, and water features: fountains, lily and duck ponds, and reflecting pools (including the oh-so-cleverly named Gene Pool).  This watery business seems to be a thing on Cali campuses, and is so different from our frozen tundra that I can’t even really process it yet.  We walk by dozens of labs named after no one we’ve ever heard of (which is not saying much, but they are probably all of the very-famous-you’ve-never-heard-of-them variety.  And certainly mostly male.) and possibly the swankiest Faculty Club on the planet.  Peter notes that the WW1-era artillery piece we see is probably the cannon that MIT stole and put on their dome, and it makes us respect those krazy kids downriver even more.  Apparently there is a good tradition of pranking at Caltech, which I suspect is a plus for Peter. 

Next stop the lush and plush campus of Pomona College, where we hear a presentation from an admissions officer and take a student-led tour.  I’m shocked, shocked at how fancy it is, and Bill reminds me that I work on a fancy campus.  I work on an OLD campus, dripping with history and tradition, but at this time of year also mostly mud and not at all loaded with fountains and sunny courtyards and pools lined with palm trees.  Here we actually gather round the fireplaces (or we would, if they worked) to get warm, whereas at Pomona apparently they all go to the room in the Student Center with a gas fireplace when the temperature dips below 60.  I also work on an exceptionally well-endowed campus but Pomona sure seems to go out of its way to ensure that no student ever wants for anything, be it books, or piano lessons, or trips to the beach.  Our super-enthusiastic tour guide Brendan from Minnesota led the entire tour walking backwards, with his fly open, and was a terrific salesperson for this magical place.  Pomona seems like a place Peter might like but when I remark that California is a very long way from Massachusetts he just says Yes.  Yes, with glee?  Yes, with reservation?  Or just yes, it is.  You never know with that kid. 

Izzy’s dining dream is realized with lunch at In-N-Out Burger.  Wow, these are cheap!  And pretty good.  But we’re told later by natives that we revealed ourselves as greenhorns by not ordering from the secret menu.  How do you know about the secret menu, we ask?  You just know, apparently. 

Heading back to L.A. we take a long break at the Huntington Library and Gardens, and spend our whole two hours there wandering among the absolutely stunning gardens – we never even go inside!  We know that this is one of the world’s great research libraries, and now that I see the location I wonder once again at the folly of choosing a dissertation topic that took me to Mississippi and not here.  We hear tell there’s a Gutenberg Bible in there, and a First Folio, and many fine representations of European and American art from the 15^th to the 20^th c.  But the extensive gardens capture our attention, as we wander from cacti to lily ponds to about five hundred different kinds of roses to Japanese and Chinese gardens.  The whole complex is really something, although in this moment you do wonder where ol’ Henry Huntington got his money (well of course, railroads, like most 19^th c. magnates) and then you think about how he might have treated his workforce, and who actually did all that planting and building.  But then your family might suggest not particularly subtly that you are a downer and you might also just be mesmerized by the view over the Chinese lake, so that’s how that ends.  Bill’s cousin Barbara feels that a visit to the Huntington is really the best thing anyone can do when coming to L.A. and environs, and she may not be wrong.    

Dinner tonight is a festive affair with four Almarios, four Laskins, and two Pizer-Wongs.  Much Japanese food is eaten and we are all delighted to get to spend some time together. 

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[1] It has happened!  We have toured a college and lived to tell the tale.  And, I think I managed to not embarrass Peter.

Laskins in Los Angeles: Epilogue

4.20 – Written by Bill who stayed another day with Peter and Izzy.

Another day of sun. Yawn. Today is Connect-The-Kids-To-Their-Great Uncle-Ronny-Day. First stop, The Getty Center, which was only in the planning stages when Ronny was Curator of Paintings at the Getty in the 80s. Nevertheless, that’s where “his” paintings now reside, so off we go to this temple of art. One of the best parts about the Getty Center is the approach. You drive to the foot of a hill and park in a capacious parking structure. Then, you stroll outside to a train platform where helpful guides show you which line to stand in. A few minutes later, your absolutely silent automated train arrives and you board for the 5 minute ride to the top of the hill where the GC awaits. On the way, the voice of James Cuno, Getty Director, welcomes you and thanks you for visiting. And then there you are, looking up at a complex of, I think, five separate pavilions connected by a fountain-strewn plaza. You’re looking up because you still have some stairs to climb past a couple contemporary sculptures, include a larger-than-life naked boy holding a frog by its legs in his outstretched arm, to reach plaza-level. Now for the Ronny-Bought-This-Picture tour. We find Mantegna’s “Adoration of the Magi” and Dieric Bouts’ “The Annunciation,” two of Ronny’s proudest acquisitions. P and I are ho-hum about them, but they are impressed by the realism of Masaccio’s St. Andrew nearby. They also like the squinty eyes in all the early Renaissance paintings. We reach a long gallery of Impressionists. On the far wall hangs Van Gogh’s Irises. I explain to P and I that this is the painting that got Ronny fired because he didn’t think it was worth the exorbitant asking price so he refused to buy it. Clearly his replacement felt differently. As we look at it from closer up, we overhear an A.P. Art History teacher tell her charges, “and here is one of the most famous paintings in the museum!” I give Peter the hairy eyeball and we move to a much smaller room next door where two other Ronny acquisitions hang.  One is a moody, semi-abstract landscape by Munch. The other is the huge and fabulous “Christ’s Entry into Brussels in 1889” by James Ensor.  It fills up an entire wall and is filled with a parade of masked revelers carrying banners with socially-charged messages. A group of first graders is sitting in front of it while their teacher asks them what they notice and think. I was about to take a picture of the charming scene when a guard tells me I can photograph any picture in the room but that one. Really? Really. We also check out a show of early American photos, which is pretty interesting. Peter and I particularly enjoy a chart showing the times in dozens of different American cities: Boston 1:21, New Haven 1:28, New York 1:32, and so forth. It was a different time, indeed.  We also enjoy the very architectural garden, watching dozens of school kids roll down a grassy slope, and expansive views of L.A.

After departing the Getty, we drive to Pacific Palisades to get a look at Ronny’s house before it’s sold.  It sits atop a cliff overlooking the Pacific. It didn’t start that way: 50 years ago four houses across the road slid down the bluff and Ronny’s house has had an ocean view since.  Says Peter after getting out of the car, “Wow, this really IS a nice ocean view. I’ll live here.” The realtor was nice enough to unlock the door, so we go in and spend 15 minutes or so looking around and lounging in the sun room. Google Maps recommends that we return to Studio City via Topanga Canyon, which is the long way around, but a beautiful and lightly-trafficed drive. At the top of the canyon is a little park overlooking the entire San Fernando Valley. We stop and admire the view for a few minutes. Peter notices a sign that warns there is a $541 fine for littering. $541?  What?

We dine again at In-N-Out Burger, then drive 20 minutes to see the chandelier tree in all its illuminated glory. It’s exactly what it sounds like, a tree whose artist owner has decorated with about 30 chandeliers. We arrive with great anticipation, but inexplicably, it isn’t lit! We hang around for a few minutes trying to process our disappointment, then return to Studio City.

We pack everything in our car the next morning, bid adieu to our home for the past week, and head out for breakfast at a local joint Peter finds recommended online. We’re shown to a table outside beneath a huge avocado tree – ahhh, California. I notice a signed photo of Guy Fieri on the wall, which thrills P& I.  They’re big fans. We have an extended discussion of Guy F. while eating a delicious meal, then return to the car and drive to LAX. Driving there on Saturday morning is much easier than Thursday night, thank god. So long, L.A.