Hanging in Hollywood
Say friend. You ever been to Hollywood? It’s a wild place, and while out on our month long poetry tour and roadtrip, and while out in Los Angeles, we had to stop and see it. Jess had never been and I hadn’t in two decades either, and hearing that we wanted to walk through and check it out, the poet and worker Richard Modiano offered us a walking tour. Yes, that Richard Modiano. The winner of the Joe Hill Labor Poetry Prize and longtime director of the legendary Beyond Baroque. Remember me saying that this is the area in life in which I’ve been most fortunate? That the giants of modern poetry have taken a liking to me. Yet another example.
Jess and I wheeled into Hollywood, CA, much like the goddamned Clampets of lore rolled into Beverly Hills, we had our bed in the back of the car and most all our needs and necessities for the month strapped on and packed in, and we parked behind the historic El Capitan theater and entertainment complex, and we paid too much money to do so. If you research better, there’s far more affordable spaces, but this one was close to where we were to meet Richard, and we had the spot all day.
The El Capitan is one of three historic theaters in Hollywood. All three were designed by architect Sid Grauman: El Capitan, the Egyptian,and the most famous of them, the Chinese Theater. El Capitan was host to the premiere of Citizan Kane, and is now owned by Disney and host to their many premieres, as well as the home of Jimmy Kimmel Live! The building is pretty fucking cool to look at.
We met Richard, who took the bus to meet us. A lifelong dedicated worker and artist, he’s the real deal red blood comrade, and he doesn’t drive a car. We met him at the bus stop across the street from the old Max Factor Building that’s now the Hollywood Museum. It’s next to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, also a Museum.
Richard Modiano grew up near Hollywood, and frequented these streets both as a child on movie trips and errands with family, and in his late teen years solo, most often to find books, likeminded comrades and beatniks, and the adventures that came along with all of that. In the late 1960’s and ‘70’s when he was a regular visitor Hollywood was still in its seedy years that would spawn parts of the west coast punk scene and create a huge underground art upheaval. In fact, they say Hollywood Blvd was pretty grungy until the 90s, around the time Disney took ownership and renovated the El Capitan after an earthquake had damaged it. Around then, revitalization, tourism and gentrification made it what it is today.
Brother Modiano moved away to New York City, and spent time in Japan, before returning to Los Angeles a few decades ago, where he’s immersed himself in the literary scene so firmly as to be highly regarded by many there as indispensable. Having him walk us around, sharing the history he knew and lived through of the place, that afternoon with Richard Modiano was an honor and a privilege to be a part of, and an afternoon neither me nor Jess will ever forget.
We started out in front of the world famous and historic Chinese Theater. Except, there was a thousand people milling around, and a giant coliseum facade erected in front of the building. Unbeknownst to any of us hippie artists that aren’t hip to the mainstream world, the Chinese Theater was set to host the premiere for Gladiator II that evening. Stages were being built by dozens of union stagehands, and tourists were already lining up to be first in line to view the red carpet. We couldn’t even see the famous building from the street, but Richard stopped and told us about his experiences there, including a trip to the Oscar’s as the plus one with a friend. Told you this wasn’t no nickel and dime walk about. We were getting a living five hour documentary from one of L.A.’s most important figures of their modern poetry scene.
We walked on. It was sunny and 70. T shirt weather for us midwesterners, light jackets for the regulars. In between stops, and stories, and questions, we scanned the thousands of famous Hollywood stars that line the sidewalks of the world famous Boulevard. This is Hollywood baby. Movie stars and fast cars. We didn’t see any movie stars, but in true big city fashion a group of about 60 crazy fuckers went roaring down the street doing stunts and wheelies on motorbikes and four wheelers, blocking off intersections and rip roar farting their way through the rubbernecked and startled tourists. I’m not judging other outlaws for being outlaws, I just know those vehicles ain’t made for that purpose, and I’m logical about shit. I know the math. Every now and again one of those crazy fuckers splits their melon in shreds on a light pole, or worse, crashes into others and you hate to see it, but they were there getting attention for about 5 minutes. Just another part of the Hollywood Sunday Circus.
We went by the Egyptian Theater, and it stands eye catching and regal, but it’s now owned by Netflix, and we weren’t allowed into its courtyard to look around. They host private screenings and you need a ticket, an invitation or some secret code word to get into the courtyard before the main entrance even.
Richard showed us where the old book shops used to be, including Baroque Books owned by Red Stodolsky. Red and the bookstore were immortalized in Charles Bukowski’s novel ‘Pulp’ and Red was good to other modern poets that I know in L.A. Good enough that Red is still a legend enough that S.A. Griffin and others had a plaque installed by the city commemorating the location of Baroque Books, long since closed. We didn’t see the plaque. Couldn’t find it. S.A. told me later he went over and it’s still there. It’s a half block from where we meandered. So it goes in my one wild and crazy life. I’m either a dollar or a half a block short, sometimes both.
There’s only one bookstore left in Hollywood. There used to be six.
We stood across from Musso & Frank, the legendary Hollywood bar & restaurant where many celebrities have met to wine and dine over the years, including Bukowski after he made it big. We saw the Frolic Room, the last remaining dive bar leftover from those seedy punk days of yore. We stopped at Hollywood & Vine, one of the most famous intersections in the world, and Richard stopped to tell me the story he’d heard about Jack Kerouac leaving the Tonight Show in the 50’s and walking away down this very same street.
We scoped out the sidewalk stars. Saw Neil Armstrong there. Shouts out to Ohio. Rod McKuen has a star, but not for poetry. There are no Hollywood stars for poetry. But you can get more than one star. They give them out for acting, singing, dancing, producing, directing, pretty much everything other than poetry, and there are lots of Hollywood stars that have multiple stars on Hollywood’s famous sidewalk.
We peeked in at tourist gift shops. Noted the street buskers doing their thing. Walked past three dozen street vendors hawking everything from photographs, paintings, hoodies, tours, and homemade tacos. We stopped for 90 minutes to have lunch in the oldest Mexican restaurant in Hollywood. A place Richard recommends and loves and eats at occasionally, a place I can’t remember the damn name of. Shit. But they had the best horchata I’ve ever drank, and having lunch with your girlfriend and Richard Modiano in Hollywood on a sunny Sunday afternoon? Thats a moment I never thought could happen in my life til then. Richard is a generous, warm, and gifted storyteller, and Jess and I were both avid and ready listeners.
We walked back with Richard to his bus stop. He signed my copy of his poetry collection for me. The Forbidden Lunchbox is a beautiful, raw, powerful book of poems, and I’d bought my copy from Punk Hostage Press, same publisher of my first novel, $100-A-Week Motel, and I’m thrilled that it got signed by the man himself, a man I owe a huge debt of gratitude to, and it was signed right there while we were together in Hollywood.
After Richard got on the bus, Jess and I snuck back behind El Capitan to our car, and we got some water and enjoyed a little of the universal jazz cabbage, then strolled back down Hollywood Blvd together, hand in hand as the sun began to sink at 5pm, looking for postcards and small tourist mementos and souvenirs to send to our loved ones back home. The crowd in front of the Chinese Theater was buzzing behind us, still hours before the Gladiator 2 royalty showed up to party. The palm trees danced slow smiles, and I still can’t tell if the whole day was a damn dream or not. Except there’s this inscription in this good book of poems I got.
If you’re ever in Hollywood, tell the stars I said hello, and maybe I’ll go see them again when they start putting poets on their sidewalks too.
Love,
Dan
Ps. I owe Richard Modiano an ever growing huge debt of gratitude for many things. This tour, meeting us for dinner another evening between two readings of his own, and setting us up at another reading, the one I mentioned in Santa Monica several posts ago. Beyond all of that, he also helped edit my last novel and the only payment he’d take for that indispensable work was signed copies of my books.
But I was a fan of his long before he called me comrade, and his collection of poetry The Forbidden Lunchbox (Punk Hostage Press, 2022) contains some powerful, gut wrenching poems.
What a cool opportunity, and what an eloquent way of describing it. I can see it all in my mind.
Also, seems a shame that corporate America has bought and closed off such icons of Hollywood