Photo Essay: Silver City, A Ghost Town Made of Pieces of Other Ghost Towns

When I first moved to California, some places just seemed so far away. It was impossible for me to wrap my head around making a day trip to Joshua Tree or Palm Springs—a three-hour drive each way. But over the past 14 years, my home state has continued to feel smaller and smaller, easier and easier to tackle. 

In April 2014, I made a detour from the Eastern Sierra to try to see Silver City Ghost Town in Bodfish, California, located in the Kern River Valley of the Southern Sierra. I'd gotten there too late in the day to catch it before it closed or to even photograph it in daylight. And it just seemed so out-of-the-way that it took me 11 years to try again. 

 

This time, I planned my trip a little better and got an earlier start, as I headed home from the early-morning Burro Run I'd attended in Indian Wells Canyon. 

Photo Essay: Donkeys Hauling Ass at California's Run With the Burros

Ever since I read the memoir Running with Sherman: The Donkey with the Heart of a Hero, I've been interested in witnessing burro racing. That's when runners take to the trail with a donkey for a man-versus-man/animal-versus-animal competition—one that's popular in Arizona, Colorado, and now California.

I had my chance this weekend thanks to the non-profit California Breakfast Burritos, which has been focused on bringing pack burro races back to the Golden State since its founding in 2018. 

 

There's a long tradition of burro racing among 19th-century miners—locally, in Randsburg, Death Valley, and the Eastern Sierra communities. But this version has been around since 1949, when it was used as a marketing gimmick to bring tourism to declining mining communities (and to find a use for those working burros the miners left behind). 

 

A Load Off

It had been hanging over me for too many years—in retrospect, more than I ever thought it would. 

I stopped talking to my parents in January 2007 (I think, I don't remember exactly). At least, that's the last time I ever called them. And they just never called me back. 

But since then, I'd been wondering whether they'd ever try reaching out, try making amends. I thought that on my mother's deathbed, she might find God—truly find God, not that fake cult crap she put us through—and finally apologize. 

I've thought about her death a lot over the years, mostly because I've always known she always wanted to die. She constantly threatened death—either in a passive way, that ol' "Since this may be my last Christmas..." gag, or in an active way, openly fantasizing about drowning herself in the bathtub. 

After all, her physical health was pretty terrible—something I was acutely aware of as far back as third grade. And her mental anguish? Way before that, as far back as I can remember.

So I couldn't help but be curious as to when it would happen, how it would happen, how I would feel, what my dad would do. 

How would I even find out that she had died? And what would happen if my dad died first?

My parents eating cake at their wedding reception, May 4, 1973*

Well, many of those questions have now been answered. My mother died on March 3, 2025. I found out on March 11, when my cousin called me after the funeral service. 

Photo Essay: Wallace Neff's Once-Affordable Bubble House Hits An Inflated Real Estate Market

Los Angeles has been experiencing a housing shortage for decades—with many of the new residential structures being built offering a larger proportion of luxury housing than affordable units. And that shortage has worsened in the wake of the January 2025 wildfires that wiped out nearly the entire communities of Altadena and the Pacific Palisades.

There was a severe need for housing in the U.S. in the 1940s, too—with building materials being rationed for the war effort and then all those soldiers coming home after World War II and starting families with much enthusiasm (launching the "baby boom" generation). 

Back during the war, one answer to that housing shortage was offered by architect Wallace Neff: the Airform house, which could be constructed in just two days.

All it took was to cover a giant balloon (made of rubberized nylon) with chicken wire and spray it with concrete (a.k.a. gunite). Deflate the balloon and boom, you've got a house—or, as it was called, a "Bubble House."

 

Despite their speed and affordability, fewer than 3000 Bubble Houses (or "Balloon Houses") were built in this country. Only one of them remains, built at a cost of $16,000—and it just went on the market for a whopping $1.85 million. 

Photo Essay: Light and Space in William Cody's Palm Springs Home

When I was in Palm Springs last month for Modernism Week, I missed the opportunity to visit the Cody Family Residence, which artist Phillip K. Smith III had taken over with a temporary, site-specific installation of his light and space sculptures.

It was a one-time event that was happening just days after I'd be leaving Palm Springs. And my schedule didn't allow me to return so soon. 

Fortunately, the PKSIII installation is taking reservations through April 5—so a month later, I made my way back to the Coachella Valley just to see it. 

And it was worth the trip. 

 

Photo Essay: Disney Imagineers Are Building a Town Near Palm Springs, Called Cotino

To be honest, I signed up for a tour of Cotino—"A Storyliving by Disney™ Community"—in Rancho Mirage, California during this year's Modernism Week because it was free.

 

 

It wasn't until I got to its sales office that I realized they might actually try to sell me one of the homes where "the Disney touch is at the heart of it all."

Photo Essay: Happy Swallows Day ( ¡Felicidades para la Fiesta de las Golondrinas! )

When you go shopping at Ortega's Trading Post in San Juan Capistrano, you get a free copy of the "Swallow Story," the tale of the local birds known as cliff swallows.

It goes like this:

"With the arrival of early dawn on St. Joseph's Day, the little birds begin to arrive and begin rebuilding their mud nests, which are clinging to the ruins of the old stone church of San Juan Capistrano...

After the summer spent within the sheltered walls of the Old Mission in San Juan Capistrano, the swallows take flight again, and on the Day of San Juan, October 23, they leave to return to their winter home in Goya, Argentina after circling the Mission bidding farewell to the 'Jewel of All Missions.'"

Legend has it that in the early 20th century, swallows had become such a nuisance to the townspeople that a shopkeeper started knocking down their nests with a broom. 

The pastor of the Mission at the time, Father St. John O'Sullivan, wrote in his story Capistrano Nights that he called out to them: 

"Come on swallows, I'll give you shelter. 

Come to the Mission. 

There's room enough there for all." 

Thus, celebrating the Return of the Swallows on St. Joseph's Day, March 19, has been an annual tradition at Mission San Juan Capistrano since the 1920s. 

And now, the Swallows Day Parade—held on the following Saturday—just celebrated its 65th year. (It had to skip 2020 and 2021 because of the COVID-19 pandemic; and it had to go on without horses due to an equine virus outbreak in 2022.)

Photo Essay: The Long Goodbye to Pacific Dining Car

I hadn't yet written about the 2020 closure of one of my favorite LA institutions, Pacific Dining Car, because I was in denial. I thought once the COVID-19 pandemic was over, really over, it might reopen.

 

Photo Essay: Barnstorming for Battery-Powered Flight at Santa Monica Airport

The first flight to circumnavigate the globe took off from and returned to an airport right here in the Los Angeles area: Clover Field, now known as Santa Monica Airport. 

 

Photo Essay: The Huntington's Japanese Garden and Its 320-Year-Old Transplant

After all of the times I'd been to The Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens, there was one major area I'd never seen: the Japanese Garden, added by Henry Huntington to his then-private estate in 1912.

That is, until I finally got to visit in November 2023. (Sorry it's taken me so long to share my experience!)

 

 

Photo Essay: In Search of a Desert Modernist's Legacy at Batman's Former Palm Springs Home

The Old Las Palmas neighborhood began in the 1920s as a simple subdivision of Palm Springs, California, but it became one of the premiere residential neighborhoods of the desert getaway city. 

It's been home for the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, Kirk Douglas, Dinah Shore, Donna Reed, Liberace, and many more stars—and word has it, it's got the most celebrity homes of all the Palm Springs neighborhoods. 

During Modernism Week, I headed to Old Las Palmas to get inside the former residence of actor Adam West, best known for portraying Batman on the 1960s TV series.

Photo Essay: This Mid-Century Palm Springs Estate Shines With or Without Its Howard Hughes History

Every year, it's overwhelming to go through the Modernism Week schedule and try to figure out which tours to take. 

I'll admit, I get lazy and sometimes just choose based on a certain amount of star power. I haven't yet gone wrong with the Frank Sinatra, Kirk Douglas, William Holden, or Gummo Marx estates. 

 

But the Howard Hughes Residence in Palm Springs has a lot more to offer than just a celebrity pedigree of an eccentric aerospace engineer and movie mogul.

Photo Essay: 85 Years of The Walt Disney Studios in Burbank

There are five main movie production studios in Los Angeles, and only four of them give studio tours: Warner Brothers, Paramount, Sony, and Universal. I'd visited them all (plus some smaller ones like the Fox lot, which didn't allow photos) except one—and the one holdout was the one that provides extremely limited public access.

Walt Disney Studios in Burbank. 

Photo Essay: Crazy for Planes at Mojave Air & Space Port

I've long been fascinated with the Mojave Air & Space Port, the home of Virgin Galactic and just a stone's throw away from Edwards Air Force Base.

 

I've skulked around the airport a bit in the past, but I always wanted to go to its monthly "Plane Crazy" event, which would give a little closer access to the runway (and maybe get a better view of the airplane graveyard). I've had it on my calendar for years and years.

Photo Essay: A Louisiana Bayou Boat Ride, No Gators in Sight

I couldn't imagine going to New Orleans for the first time and not taking a swamp tour.

Even though it had snowed 10 inches just three days before I arrived. Even though it was winter and it would be too cold for the alligators to be out in the water. (Instead, they're burrowing in some mud somewhere for heat.)

Fortunately, I was traveling with a group who wanted to do the same.
 

Photo Essay: The Big Easy, By Mule

I've never taken a horse-drawn carriage ride from one of the buggies in Central Park, even though I lived in New York City for 14 years. 

But I'll admit it's a nice way to explore a place, whether it's en caleche in Morocco or in a more yee-haw fashion in the California desert.

 

So when I saw carriages gliding along the snow-melted streets of New Orleans last weekend, I was intrigued. And then I found out they were pulled not by horses, but by mules (which can withstand the heat and humidity better)—and I knew I had to take a ride.

Photo Essay: The Oldest and Most Haunted Cemetery in New Orleans

New Orleans is one of those rare cities that's just as famous for its burial grounds as it is for its living traditions.

So when our early morning swamp tour got postponed for a couple of hours last weekend, I didn't go back to bed. I went to the graveyard. 

 

Photo Essay: Let the Good Times Roll at Mardi Gras World

I always thought of New Orleans as just being filled with street parties—open containers and beads being thrown. (I think I've seen too many Girls Gone Wild TV commercials.) I wasn't terribly interested in that.

Above: The "Sun King," a.k.a. King Louis XIV, the namesake of Louisiana

It never occurred to me that the Mardi Gras celebration would involve big, elaborate parade floats—the type I would be interested in, considering my love for the Rose Parade and its floats. 

Fans Flock to Bob's Big Boy to Memorialize Visionary Filmmaker David Lynch (R.I.P.)

[Last updated 1/24/25 11:59 AM PT—The makeshift shrine was removed from Bob's Big Boy on 1/22/24 with great care to archive its contents and save some of the pieces. Chris Nichols wrote a very good article for Los Angeles Magazine about the process, which you can read here.]

Filmmaker David Lynch died on Wednesday, January 15, a week after having to evacuate his home off Mulholland Drive (yes, like the movie) because of the Sunset Fire. He was only 78—but as he revealed last year, his health had been deteriorating as he'd been diagnosed with emphysema. 

Image by annamaria anderson from Pixabay

Certainly the Hollywood community and critics alike mourned the loss of the visionary writer, director, and musician. But what happened next surprised me. 

Photo Essay: Saved from the Sunset Fire

On January 8, 2025, I was already glued to the local news, listening to updates about the Palisades Fire (about 8 miles west of me) and the Eaton Fire (about 20 miles east of me). 

And then around 6 p.m. came some terrifying news: After a full day of new fires popping up seemingly everywhere, there was yet another blaze, just 3.5 miles northeast of where I live.

I looked out the second-story window at the front of our building, and I could see the flames. The Hollywood Hills were on fire. 

And then I got a screaming alert on my phone that I was in an evacuation warning zone. 

This was new for me, after living in "the flats" for nearly 14 years. I always thought if we were in danger of anything, it was of a tall skinny palm tree toppling over onto my car parked on the street. 

But by then both the Palisades and Eaton fires had destroyed more of their respective city areas—nearly the entirety of Pacific Palisades and Altadena—than anyone ever thought could happen. 

As it turns out, the warning on my phone was a false alarm for me—but I was, in fact, less than a mile down the hill from the real evacuation warning zone. 

I took a shower (which I hadn't done in days) and washed my hair (which I hadn't done in over a week). I packed a suitcase to take along with my already-packed "go bag." 

And then I got back into bed and let my cat fall back to sleep on me. I watched the news. And I waited for the official word to "go."

There were so many fire crews in the area at that point, and there were so many first responders already on high alert, that the Sunset Fire—which erupted on the western ridge of Runyon Canyon—spread neither to the residential areas of Nichols Canyon or Laurel Canyon, nor the historic commercial district of Hollywood Boulevard.

But there were a few places that were in the crosshairs—and we might've lost, had the winds been stronger that night. 

 

Today I went to assess the damage and get some proof of life of what was saved. I could see the charred hillside from a little father south on Fuller Avenue (above).

Photo Essay: Things That Were Spared from the Fires (Palisades & Eaton Fires Edition—Continuously Updated)

[Last updated 1/20/25 5:32 PM PT—Added Christmas Tree Lane Model Railroad and added some info about Mountain View Cemetery.]

[Updated 1/18/25 9:36 AM PT—Added San Vicente Mountain Park.]

[Updated 1/15/25 7:11 PM PT—Added Saddle Peak Lodge, Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, and Inn of the Seventh Ray.]

[Updated 1/13/25 9:48 PM PT—Added Balian House]

How am I faring in the tragic firestorms of Los Angeles? I'm safe for now, but I'm stressed. I'm grieving. I'm in mourning. All of LA is.

So I turn my attention to documenting. It feels like all I can do. 

I've already started a running tally of the places that were lost in the Palisades and the Eaton Fires, focusing on those I'd already photographed and knew pretty intimately. 

But I'd like to add some good news in the mix, so here's what I know about some of the places I care about and their survival status. 

Lake Shrine

 

Photo Essay: Things We Lost In the Fires (Palisades and Eaton Edition—Continuously Updated)

[Last updated 1/20/25 5:13 PM PT—Clarified status of Christmas Tree Lane and its model railroad in Altadena]

[Updated 1/13/25 10:04 PM PT—Added Mt. Lowe's Inspiration Point]

Los Angeles is currently on fire as it has never been on fire before. 

The Palisades Fire alone is almost twice the size of the island of Manhattan in terms of acreage. 

It seems like a new fire pops up every day. 

I've had two fires near me—a structure fire on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood and a brushfire between Wattles Mansion and Runyon Canyon, the latter of which I could see from my building. That second one almost sent me evacuating, but I decided to pack up and wait it out until I was told to leave, rather than trying to get my cat in the carrier. 

I have been so very lucky so far. 

But all of Los Angeles is in mourning. And the grief has only just begun. 

Because I'm me, I've set my attention to documenting what's been saved and what's been lost. It feels productive. Maybe it's helpful.

I haven't been able to leave my apartment yet to go see anything. The air quality is not good for my weak lungs. I'd have too much separation anxiety being from my kittyboy during what feels like an apocalyptic time. (Besides, there are too many looky-loos with drones and cameras shooting photos and videos out there already, and they're getting in the way of emergency crews and the residents trying to go and check on their own homes.)

So, I'm keeping tabs on things remotely for now. From what I've seen on the internet and the local news, I'm not sure I'd want to see any of this in person. 

So here are some of the major updates as I know them—particularly about places I've documented before and was pretty familiar with, so I can confidently report what's going on with them.

The first conflagration to erupt, the Palisades Fire, first raged through the Pacific Palisades community of Los Angeles. It's wiped out entire residential neighborhoods, a commercial district, and historic structures in Palisades—and it's not done, as it rages towards the 405 to the east and the 101 to the north as I write this. (It's headed straight for San Vicente Mountain Park!)

 Photo: California State Parks

Random Thoughts Upon a Milestone Anniversary

 

 I say that I lived in NYC for 14 years—but in reality, it was actually 13 years and 8 months.

I left New York to move to LA at the end of January 2011, which means I've lived here for 13 years and 11+ months. 

I already surpassed my time in NYC without really noticing it. And now I'm about to celebrate my 14th anniversary in Los Angeles—a real 14 years. 

Photo Essay: A Festival of Rose Parade Floats, 2025

Going to Floatfest after the Rose Parade is a totally different experience than watching the Rose Parade live—but even so, sometimes I only do one or the other. 

 

This year, I did both—mostly because I left the Rose Parade a little early and missed a couple of floats (and was feeling so ill during the parade I was sure I'd missed out on a lot of details).

Photo Essay: Kicking Off Yet Another New Year at the Rose Parade (2025 Edition)

I don't go to the Rose Parade every year. After all, I didn't even go at all until 2015. And I skipped 2019 and 2022.

   

But this year, on the first day of 2025, the pull to watch those floats, marching bands, and horses crawl down Colorado Boulevard was so strong...

 

...that I woke up with a start (and without an alarm) at 8:15 a.m. after just five hours of sleep and made a beeline to Pasadena.