Arkansas Democrat-Gazette

Walking on stars: LA odd

- NOY THRUPKAEW

When you emerge, squinting, from the cave-like darkness of the Hollywood/Highland subway stop in Los Angeles, your eyes may need to adjust. Not to the city’s surreal sunniness, but to the uncouth collection of Iron Man impersonat­ors, bong shops, tattoo parlors and strip clubs that clog the Hollywood Walk of Fame, an 18-block stretch of sidewalk studded with five-pointed stars honoring the industry’s greats.

An estimated 10 million tourists visit the Walk a year; on any given day, it seems 9.9 million show up, shuffling along on a futile pilgrimage to fix the fleeting joys of a film or a song, or their imaginings of fame, to a favorite actor’s terrazzo star or concrete handprints. If you can stand the disappoint­ment, the Walk has a rude, shattering honesty about it — the place where Hollywood dreams, or the silicone manufactur­e of them, collide with the grime, economic inequality and desperatio­n that also underpin this town. If you must experience it firsthand, you can recover with a classier L.A. tradition: a droughtdry martini at Musso and Frank’s Grill, the oldest restaurant in Hollywood.

Location: North Highland Avenue at Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles; walkoffame.com.

For a more contemplat­ive considerat­ion of stardom, head less than two miles southeast to Hollywood Forever, a 62-acre cemetery where many Golden Age greats have found their final resting place. For a cemetery, Hollywood Forever can be buzzingly alive — it hosts sold-out outdoor movie screenings, rock concerts in its Masonic Lodge and the longest-running ritual in Hollywood: an annual memorial service for silent-film star Rudolph Valentino. But the cemetery really reveals its charms in the quiet of mornings or late afternoons, before or after the sun flattens shadows and strollers alike.

Peacocks stalk between the markers, which are a riot of architectu­ral styles: Armenian gravestone­s adorned with pointillis­t portraits etched with a hammer, chisel and generation­s of technique. The neoclassic­al mausoleum built for Los Angeles Philharmon­ic founder William Andrews Clark Jr., surrounded by water. A statue of Johnny Ramone rocking out on his guitar. Valentino’s crypt, covered with lipsticky kisses from his devotees. And cenotaphs — markers to those buried elsewhere, such as bombshell Jayne Mansfield and Toto of Wizard of Oz fame (actually named Terry, and a female dog).

The cemetery is perhaps best enjoyed through historian Karie Bible’s deeply researched weekly walking tour — a 2 ½-hour sojourn into the stories of old Hollywood. Bible hopes to guide her audience not just past gravesites but on to an appreciati­on of the living art her subjects created, from Peter Lorre’s turn in the brilliant German expression­ist film M, to indelible Estelle Getty in the senior-sitcom The Golden Girls, all of which Bible details on her tour and website. When a little girl on the tour became distraught at the tomb of “Man of a Thousand Voices” Mel Blanc, who had given Bugs Bunny his cockiness and Porky Pig his stammer, “I told her to watch the cartoons,” Bible recalls. “That’s where he lives. That’s how we can honor these artists.”

Location: 6000 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles; (877) 844-3837; hollywoodf­orever.com.

Hollywood Forever Cemetery Walking Tour: (818) 517-5988; cemeteryto­ur.com.

 ?? Bloomberg/KONRAD FIEDLER ?? The crowded Walk of Fame teems with tourists but a more contemplat­ive considerat­ion of stardom can be found at Hollywood Forever cemetery.
Bloomberg/KONRAD FIEDLER The crowded Walk of Fame teems with tourists but a more contemplat­ive considerat­ion of stardom can be found at Hollywood Forever cemetery.

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