Ask the Dust/2, a Reckoning

I took the steps down Angel's Flight to Hill Street: a hundred forty steps, with tight fists, frightened of no man, but scared of the Third Street Tunnel, scared to walk through it -- claustrophobia. -- Arturo Bandini, from Ask the Dust by John Fante, ©1939.

Angel's Flight, December 23,  2024. PHOTO:KCS

At about 2 o'clock in the afternoon we joined a serpentine line to place our sandwich order at Philippe's The Original. The joint was rocking. Or at least buzzing with hungry folks. The sawdust-strewn floor soothed me. I was definitely feeling the vibe that my memory had kept alive for more than seven decades.

The moment of reckoning had arrived.

The sandwiches are made on the spot, with choices of beef, pork, lamb, ham or turkey, all dipped by request, or dry pastrami. We ordered two house specials: beef dips, plus sides of potato salad and coleslaw.  To drink, I asked for a draw of IPA and Barbara went for the lemonade which appeared thirst-quenching in a tall glass.

The corner restaurant comprises several rooms with tables large enough for a family of six. The walls are adorned with memorabilia including clips from newspapers and magazines about the fabled sandwich shop that first opened in 1908. The hometown Dodgers, are well represented with photos and souvenirs for sale. The baseball team remains the pride of LA, especially since winning the World Series in October.

Deli counter at Philippe the Original. PHOTO:KCS

I asked to have my sandwich double-dipped. "That's top and bottom," said the server behind the deli case. She was referring to the sliced roll. She placed our order on a tray and we found a vacant table and set ourselves up. I prepared myself with a sip of IPA.

I carefully lifted the sandwich with both hands, drew it toward my mouth and took a small bite, then a larger one. The flavor had barely reached my taste buds when my wife looked at me and said: "Well, how is it?" I felt as though I was on trial.

The entire room expanded. My peripheral vision brought everything into panoramic focus -- past, present and future.

"It's good," I said, sensing a chill and flush fill my face. "It's good," I repeated.

"Is it as good as you remembered?"

"It's different, but I like it." I couldn't imagine my 5-year-old self. I did feel satisfied. 

The episode catapulted me to Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain, a refuge protagonist Hans Castorp never wanted to leave. Alas, we are bequeathed the present moment and all that we we bring to it.

I don't believe it was the same sandwich. I was certainly a different person. The meat was tender and savory. The bun simply a bun. I had since tasted the divinity of San Francisco sour dough. 

The casual atmosphere of families and friends enjoying their meals reassured me, a multi-ethnic and multi-aged mix. I watched a young Black man bussing tables wearing a Dodger cap and blue Philippe's shirt and wondered about his life in LA and the stories he must tell his friends. Glasses of lemonade stood on many tables, indicating its popularity at 99-cents each. The best deal in the house. A Beef Dip costs $13.95.

It became clear that the French Dip would remain a reminder of my youth but not likely repast for my future. I eat very little beef these days. I recalled better French Dips during my teenage years in Pomona at Tony's, at the coffee shop at Garey Bowl and from behind counter at Roy’s Liquor on Fifth Avenue across the street from the Hull House, a favorite high-school hangout. But those sandwiches would never overshadow my first succulent experience at Philippe's, the sense of discovery, the sawdust-covered floor and my Dad’s comforting grin.

Bunker Hill, Los Angeles, 1952. Photo by Walker Evans, celebrated Depression-era photographer. Note the high resolution of real film and the smoggy sky. Los Angeles air quality has improved immensely since lead was removed from gasoline.

After exiting Philippe's, we walked about a block down busy Alameda Street, across from the classic Downtown Post Office building, before realizing that finding Angel's Flight on foot would be difficult and hazardous. The varied streets criss-cross in helter-skelter fashion. So back to the car.

Named after a battle of the Revolutionary War, Bunker Hill is where the wealthy folks of early Los Angeles resided in grand Victorian-style homes overlooking the city with views of the greater basin and mountains beyond, a prime location for anyone who conducted business in town, as did Prudent Beaudry. A French-Canadian immigrant and LA's 13th Mayor, Beaudry was instrumental in developing what had been a large, vacant dirt mound above downtown.

Beaudry took it upon himself to have his home constructed on top of the mound and water pumped uphill to accommodate his new abode. To do so, he started his own water company, a vision that would become a major and controversial conundrum for Angelenos as the population of Los Angeles exploded over time without a local water source. According to record, Beaudry's water service kept the L.A. River flowing into zanjas -- ditches -- to service the original settlements of Pueblo de Los Angeles established by Spanish charter in 1781.

Celebrated as the "world's shortest railway," Angel's Flight opened in 1901, eliminating the need to climb the 140 stairs from downtown to the top of Bunker Hill. Although the Hill has been flattened and modernized today, the original rail cars, featuring stained wood and polished brass polls, take riders back in time for the cost of one dollar, round-trip.

Inside the railway cars is as cozy as a warm blanket on a cold night. Whoa! that's steep!

As Los Angeles changed, so did Bunker Hill. The hilltop enclave of the town's movers and shakers was derailed by what may be Los Angeles's most renowned contribution to our nation: The first freeway.

Originally christened Arroyo Seco Parkway and opened in 1938, the fast-road into town soon became known as the Pasadena Freeway, linking that leafy community with downtown Los Angeles. This fast track was designed to bring shoppers from Pasadena into LA. But it had the opposite effect. Wealthy Angelenos like Beaudry vacated Bunker Hill for the genteel town bunkered below the picturesque San Gabriel Mountains. 

The flight of the well-to-do left vacant quarters on the hill. The community became a magnet for artists, writers and those seeking an affordable, bohemian atmosphere. Victorian homes were converted into apartment houses called "flop houses." Here is where John Fante found his muse and wrote several books about his neighborhood, including his novel Ask the Dust. The book was made into a movie in 2006, written and directed by Robert Towne, a pal of actor Jack Nicholson, who played private investigator Jake Gittes in the film Chinatown.  Despite high expectations, Ask the Dust flopped as a film. The story of a young writer and his Mexican girlfriend didn't feature enough action.

Towne had been enamored of Fante, calling Ask the Dust the "greatest novel ever written about Los Angeles."

The Hill became a location for noir films. The environs inspired Charles Bukowski, LA's street poet laureate whose drinking life was memorialized in the 1987 film, Barfly set in LA. The poet was played by actor/boxer Mickey Rourke. Faye Dunaway was cast as a female barfly. Bukowski wrote the screenplay which included fist fighting and philosophy. Rotten tomatoes gave Barfly 4-stars. 

Bukowski referred to Fante as his "god."

The transitional period of Bunker Hill contributed to LA noir that portrays the underbelly of the beast, which has been recreated for voyeurs of the genre up through the Netflix era.

The new Bunker Hill is shiny, modern and sterile with its plaza and high rises. You would be hard pressed to find a cigarette butt or empty bottle here.

A clue, or simple ducat?

The top station of Angel's Flight is located at California Plaza, 350 South Grand Ave. There's a convenient covered parking lot across the street at a rate of about $17 per 15-minutes. The railway connects the old with the new.

We arrived to find tourists queued in front of the tiny station window. We heard British accents. We saw young  Asian visitors. I was surprised to discover that the quaint funicular was on the international map. Yet it made sense. Los Angeles is not to be underestimated. Here was an LA antique, "the world's shortest railway." Author Michael Connelly, LA's master of procedural crime fiction, entitled one of his Harry Bosch mysteries, Angel's Flight (©1998), the site of a murder inside one of the cars.

Our day trip for a sandwich had turned into a literary expedition. Barbara was thrilled to finally ride the funicular that had somehow escaped her youthful days around Los Angeles.

Tickets are $1 for a round-trip. The rail car arrives at its lower station on Hill Street across from Grand Central Market, an enclosed marketplace full of eateries, shops and souvenirs. The marketplace runs a full block to Broadway.

“That was fun,”said my wife as we exited the funicular. “And short.” She would normally have walked the stairs but Angel's Flight was a lifetime experience. How many funiculars does one ride in a lifetime?

This was my second trip. I rode Angel's Flight in 1965 before the modernization of Bunker Hill and like most teenagers didn't give it much thought. Ho-hum.

We had not heard of The Last Bookstore. The chatty gal in the ticket booth mentioned it to riders on our way down. "It's really cool," said a returning rider. Barb received a text from a friend saying, "go to the bookstore." I knew then we would not be leaving downtown LA without checking out the curious book emporium. 

The plot had thickened. 

Final installment in my next blog, Ask The Dust/3, a Realization. Where the author gets his due. Sort of.

Historical sources for this post are from various websites, blogs and Wikipedia. The narrative is intended to entertain and inform, a true story supported by the most available facts. I was surprised and delighted to find the Walker Evans photograph of Bunker Hill.