Wilshire Boulevard

Wilshire Boulevard. . , Boulevard Of Dreams, Of Tar, Of Traffic , It's a perfect summation of Los Angeles' quirky nature that Wilshire Boulevard - the grand old thoroughfare renowned as the "Fifth Avenue of the West" - bears the name of a socialist millionaire health-food nut. , The occasionally elegant avenue stretches 16 miles, from two downtown office buildings that stand like bookends all the way to the Pacific Ocean in Santa Monica. , The grande dame of Los Angeles’ boulevards was a road even before there was a city. Before the Spanish conquest, native Americans wore a footpath to the tar pits for the asphalt seepage they used to waterproof their canoes and huts. Once the Spanish began using it as a wagon and horse trail, it became known as El Camino Viejo, the Old Road. , It was a road of fits and starts; downtown it was named Orange Street. In Santa Monica, it had been Nevada Avenue, named by the Nevada senator who founded Santa Monica. The stretch called Wilshire was at first only three blocks long, so named in 1895 by the eccentric, silk-hatted Henry Gaylord Wilshire, after himself. He envisioned a splendid avenue ornamenting the fledgling city. , Eccentric, Inventor - And His Own Guinea Pig , Wilshire was the Cincinnati-born son of a millionaire banker-oilman. The handsome Harvard dropout didn't cut the mustard in the family business, and moved west in 1884 to start fresh. , He ran for Congress in 1890 on the Socialist ticket. He lost that, and every other election he ever ran in, but undaunted, preached socialism even as he made a fortune developing land west of Westlake Park , later MacArthur Park. , Among the first to buy Wilshire's lots were Harrison Gray Otis, owner of the Los Angeles Times, and Edwin T. Earl, owner of the rival Los Angeles Express. Both men built fine mansions overlooking the park, and other rich socialites followed. The Otis house - since torn down - was for years the Otis Art Institute, and the Earl house, also demolished, was home to the Historical Society of Southern California. , As Wilshire Boulevard flourished in the 1920s, Wilshire broadened his interests. He befriended the Irish dramatist and wit George Bernard Shaw - and used Shaw's face in advertisements for the I-On-A-Co. , The I-On-A-Co was a magnetic heating belt that purportedly cured insomnia, goiters, deafness, constipation - and gray hair. One glowing ad suggested that the ailing wear the belt while relaxing with a cigarette. , After testing it on himself and his friends, Wilshire promoted it as "A New Hope of Health to Those Sinking in a Sea of Despair." But the despair wound up being Wilshire's: lawsuits over the device hastened his death from heart disease in 1927, at age 66. , Let There Be Neon... And Commerce , As the city developed west, so did Wilshire Boulevard's neighborhoods. The magnificent Art Deco Bullocks Wilshire department store was patronized by movie idols - and hired one of them, Angela Lansbury, who was discovered working behind the cosmetics counter. , Jewish synagogues and Christian churches sprang up farther west, as did the Ambassador Hotel, the glorious Wiltern Theatre, Perino's restaurant and the original hat-shaped Brown Derby eatery. , The Miracle Mile, between La Brea and Fairfax avenues, became the city's first shopping area designed specifically for cars; it had the unheard-of innovation of parking lots. The stretch is now Museum Row. , Wilshire was among the city's first streets with synchronized traffic lights, installed at 23 intersections in 1931. A bell sounded each time the light changed, but residents complained about the constant clamor, and the bells were removed. , The booming car culture spawned drive-in commerce. By 1949, there were 43 drive-ins along Wilshire, from markets and diners to shoe repair shops. , Wilshire's attractions were not only found at street level. From its skyline glittered neon signs, in the first American city to install them; one of them glowed atop a Packard dealership owned by Earle C. Anthony, who had first bought neon on a trip to Paris. Into the 21st century, the signs for the Westlake Theatre and apartment buildings such as the Asbury, Ansonia and Bryson were relit and burned against the sunset sky.