Speaking of graffiti, this is the graffiti pit of Elysian Heights. The footprint of a house on what has been an "empty" lot for decades. On Ewing Street near Elysian Park, the site has served as a set for the Allison Anders film Mi Vida Loca. And it's a party spot both for the guy who owns the lot -- who occasionally invites his friends to enjoy the sunset and, I presume, a cocktail or two from the west-facing parcel -- and for taggers and skateboard kids, layer upon layer upon layer. Probably generations of gangbangers and taggers have memories of the spot. I have my own memories of poking around here, wondering what happened, why it has been undeveloped, where the front door would have been. Below it and to one side are "empty," read beautifully wooded, lots. There is an architect/developer who has plans to build two houses on those lots. She scaled back her plans, from "four to six" luxury dwellings (wine cellars in Echo Park!) to two, after various neighbors opposed her efforts. At one neighborhood meeting the architect stood up and said that as a tax payer and property owner she had a right to develop the lots. (Consider the idea of luxury-home-sellers complaining of NIMBY-ism!) If you assume the laws are current with morals* then she does. Which wasn't exactly the point to those who don't want to see the neighborhood turn into "Brentwood." The irony, of course, is that the classic gentrifier's argument -- don't overbuild! Preserve green space; don't kill the trees! -- is here the rationale behind trying to keep away snazzy modernist houses that would raise property values.

About a week ago, I heard from one of Chicken Corner's most inquisitive sources, the filmmaker Joe D'Augustine, about the "origin" of the graffiti pit. Joe says he learned from Fred -- who owns the distinctive house called Villa Deborah at the intersection of Avon and Ewing -- that the graffiti-pit property once belonged to a man who was a sculptor. The sculptor had a commission to create artworks for Queen of Angels Hospital sometime in the 1970s. While he was working to fulfill the commission, his kiln exploded, killing him and burning down his house. Its ruin has been exposed for thirty-some years.

Fred is an old-time Echo Parker. He once told me if I ever had trouble with any gang members to talk to him and he'd straighten it out. I repaid the hypothetical favor with avocados from my hundred-plus-year-old tree, which is a copious producer. Everyone around here talks about Fred's property, the Villa Deborah, which is now vacant, due to earthquake-related safety issues. The house looks like a super-mini stone manor -- a sort of greco-gothic bungalow with Spanish tiles -- but it's made of some sort of stamped concrete, consecrated in the days when it was permittable to build in such a fashion. It's still standing, but you don't want to be inside when it shakes.

PS: just heard from Joe D'Augustine, who caught an Ayn Rand story in today's Calendar section of the Times. Joe believes Ayn Rand once lived in Angeleno Heights. I'm not an Ayn Rand fan, but that definitely is a good nugget.

Photo: Graffiti pit #1, October 2006
By Cindy Bennett

Photo: Graffiti pit #2, October 2006
By Cindy Bennett