On a recent Friday morning, I drove around downtown Los Angeles looking for the ugly duckling in the Civic Center.
Kenneth Hahn Administration Hall…uh, which building was that again?
It was so unmemorable that I had forgotten what a 10-story building looked like since it had been so many years. I found the address on Google Maps, but when I finally parked in a small parking lot near the Temple and Grounds, I got lost in a sea of grand architecture. To my left was the majestic Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. Behind me were three of the music center’s elegant arts: the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the Mark Taper Forum, and the Ahmanson Theater.
In front of me was a building with cream colored tiles that led to a taller building that looked the same except it had windows.
oh yeah. That is the administration building.
It has been the county seat of Los Angeles County since it opened in 1960 and looks like a Lego block with slits in it. It’s no wonder this city isn’t as beloved by Angelenos as its flashy neighbors, especially Los Angeles City Hall, which towers like a cousin to the arrogant older citizens that looms to the south.
That’s why there hasn’t been any uproar since the county Board of Supervisors voted in November to buy the 52-story gas utility tower for $200 million. At that valuation, it’s a bargain worthy of the late, great 99 Cents Only chain. $632 million — Plans to relocate county employees from administrative buildings and other locations to the site as early as this summer.
Nearly a third of the purchase price came from funds originally set aside to seismically retrofit the administration building and update the electrical system, effectively turning the site into a literal historic scrap heap. The county’s preliminary plan calls for it to be demolished, except for the portion where supervisors hold public meetings.
The only “no” vote came from Janice Hahn, the daughter of the legendary namesake of the longest-serving supervisor in Los Angeles County history. She was waiting for me in the parking lot, showing me around the unloved building and making a case for its virtue and survival.
“This is Nate’s Lot,” she told me, explaining that it was named after the parking lot worker who told her father that she didn’t want to work in the underground garage of the Administration Building. So the supervisor created a section for him.
“A building like this has that kind of history all over it,” Hahn said, Starbucks chai latte in hand, as we walked through the door. Three staff members accompanied us, including her son and chief of staff, Mark Bauckham.
“It feels warm. It’s different than…” Her face scrunched up, as if she had stepped on a snail, and she waited a moment before mentioning the county’s recent purchases. “That soulless skyscraper.”
Gloria Molina Grand Park is located next to the Kenneth Hahn Administration Hall (left) in Los Angeles. City Hall looms in the background.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
The hall sparkled with vintage charm. Marble walls and terrazzo floors. The door’s frosted window features an old-fashioned gold sans-serif font that has been used by county departments for years. A telephone booth still in use today. The wood-paneled elevator that Janice and her brother, former Los Angeles mayor and current Superior Court judge Jim Hahn, rode as children in an amusement park.
We walked through the spacious main lobby, where people were waiting in line to pay their property taxes, then out of the building and onto Hill Street.
“There’s no lobby like this in that soulless skyscraper,” Hahn said. Across the street was the Hall of Records, built in 1962. To the left was the Stanley Mosque Courthouse, which opened in 1959, and the Gloria Molina Grand Park.
“They’re not on the chopping block,” she said of the buildings. “People used to think City Hall was too expensive to renovate. If it weren’t for civic-minded people, it would have been torn down. What a tragedy that would have been.”
The dilapidation of the 75-year-old building quickly became apparent as we rounded the west side of the administration hall and looked at the large golden statues of Moses and Thomas Jefferson. A chunk is missing from the window ledge. Chipped granite base. Cracks in the walls everywhere.
Bauckham helped a woman who couldn’t tell the difference between the Government House and the Stanley Mosque Courthouse, but Hearn acknowledged, “Yes, it takes effort.” “We had some of that money, and it was used to buy…that soulless skyscraper. And we have a $50 billion budget. We have a $50 billion budget. You can do this.”
Hahn estimated the cost at $700 million. Seismic retrofitting is expected to cost about $700 million, with an estimated total cost of $1.8 billion including retrofits and other necessary repairs, said a spokesperson for Los Angeles County CEO Fecia Davenport. He said it would be.
But should it? I wondered as I walked back inside the administration hall. What role might a vacant building play when four other supervisors want to vacate it and all the money set aside for its management has already been spent? Is there?
One person I thought might sympathize with the administration building was Supervisor Kathryn Berger. She has worked there since 1989. first as an aide, then as then-coach Mike Antonovich’s chief of staff, and for the past eight years in his current role.
“From an aesthetic standpoint, it’s not a big deal,” Berger, who voted to buy the gas company tower, said in a phone interview. “When I go to City Hall, I think, “Wow, that’s amazing.”
Although she understood Hahn’s point that it is a historic building, Berger is more focused on her estimated $1.2 billion renovation cost. “We can’t disrespect Janice, but we have to do the right thing for the taxpayers,” she said.
Berger said the regulator will need more office space after voters in November ultimately approved expanding the board from five to nine members. . She also talked about the late Gloria Molina, who worked with Kenneth Hahn and whom Berger got to know when she worked for Antonovich.
“Her visions and dreams were to create more open spaces, but those were always dashed,” Berger said. She suggested the Board of Supervisors could demolish the administration building, which spans two city blocks, and expand Gloria Molina Grand Park.
“This issue is emotional for people; [Hahn]“But you have to separate the emotional from the reality,” Berger said.
Supervisor Janice Hahn pointed to the word “beloved” on a plaque at the Kenneth Hahn Administration Hall in Los Angeles, referring to her late father.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Hahn brought up the accusation himself and later disputed it.
“Every story that has been written suggests that it was my father’s fault,” Hahn said of Kenneth Hahn’s “unparalleled accomplishments during his 40 years as county supervisor near Roby.” He spoke to me as I stood in front of a plaque celebrating “a heritage without a legacy.” He passed away in 1997.
“That’s not true,” she continued. “People said, ‘Let’s put his name on a skyscraper.’ “I would have had doubts,” she said. “He’ll find holes in their arguments and find $700 million to save this venue.”
The tour lasted about an hour, and Hahn greeted everyone she passed. We visited the Board of Supervisors conference room, which will remain in place (“That would create a disjointed county government”), and ended up in her office. A painting hangs near the entrance, with a portrait of her sitting on a sofa and her father floating above it.
“This is my life,” Hearn exclaimed. “My father is always looking over my shoulder.”
We sat for a short time and then walked outside onto the terrace that wraps around the length of the administration hall. The floor was peeling, but the view of the Civic Center and downtown in front was amazing.
I disagree with Hahn’s assertion that moving county offices from here, where other parts of LA government are located, would create “a huge hole in the idea of civic unity,” as her son puts it. I understood and appreciated it further. But before asking whether her campaign had any chance of success, I mentioned that the financial case for it was strong.
“I think so,” she said. “I think we can get some momentum. And my dad always loved a good fight.”
Her son pointed out a piece of a skyscraper sticking out behind another skyscraper. It was a gas company tower.
“Hmm,” the director said, shaking his head. “Soulless”
After saying goodbye, I walked the four blocks to Hearn’s Moby Dick, built in 1991. She wasn’t wrong. The exterior is topped with unappealing windows. The lobby, with its elevators, scowling security guards, and small glass turnstiles, is cold and smelly. No amount of bureaucratic lip service will cleanse this political pig.
Maybe Hearn was right, I thought as I walked back to Nate’s lot. Then I met Miguel Santana, president of the California Community Foundation and a longtime friend of Molina’s.
I know very few people who care about LA’s history and responsible leadership as much as he does. What does he think about the county abandoning its administrative buildings?
“Great!” he said, barely breaking his stride. “I’m all for it. Gloria always wanted to tear it down and make it more of a park.”
Good luck, Overseer Hearn: You’re going to need it.
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