The Brief

Freeways aren’t that cool — but the 10 gets kind of close because of its curious past.

It’s been in the news after the pallet fire and speedy recovery (although it's still undergoing repairs), but now, let’s look at some of its pivotal growth spurts.

A brief history of the 10 Freeway

While it wasn’t always called the 10, the route has been around for a long time.

In the early 20th century, Los Angeles was experiencing rapid growth. More and more people were buying cars, and there was a hodgepodge of different types of roads, ranging from dirt roads to flashier paved routes where you could drive faster than on other streets.

Travelers could use these roads to get from point A to point B in L.A. a little faster, but it was still slightly chaotic. So by the 1930s, the city began planning for a more organized network of roadways, especially between commerce and urbanized areas.

Today the route of Interstate 10 stretches thousands of miles from Santa Monica all the way to Florida, but before all that concrete was laid out, what would become the 10 Freeway was a much smaller system of highways with different names and destinations.

Is it LA’s first freeway?

The Ramona Freeway was the earlier name for Interstate 10 and went from downtown Los Angeles to the San Bernardino County line. The Macy Street Bridge, shown here in 1943, went above the route.

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Security Pacific National Bank Collection/Los Angles Public Library

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One of those upgraded routes was Ramona Boulevard, which opened in April 1935. It ran for four miles downtown under where the 10 is now, between Aliso Street and Garvey Avenue (ironically likely near where the pallets caught fire).

It created buzz because of its physical innovations — many of which would become central to the definition of a freeway.

Author Paul Haddad wrote that it was a roadway “with all the hallmarks of a freeway: separate grades, sloped embankments, and bridges replacing cross-traffic.”

(The person who coined the term 'freeway' — h/t Edward Bassett — saw it as different from other types of thoroughfares. A freeway wasn't about scenic routes or open access, it was about controlled and quick movement, leading to a free flow of traffic.)

Whether or not it’s the first freeway isn’t an easy answer because Ramona Boulevard started with new nomenclature.

The L.A. Department of Transportation says the state called it an “airline route” because “motorists could ‘fly’ without intersectional conflict at 50 miles per hour.”

But then in 1943, eight years after opening, the county’s regional planning commission referred to this stretch as a freeway “conversion of an existing highway.”

It’s not all semantics, though. The commission did define a freeway as a route:

• exclusively for the movement of motor vehicles
• separated from other properties by barriers
• that prohibits going in and out
• with reasonably spaced out entries and exits
• with uninterrupted traffic flow that’s divided into two sides

The thing is, Ramona Boulevard had all the above except that last one — the dividing section between the two sides. So, it didn’t pass the “freeway” name test.

But ironically it proved how important a dividing section could be because of the number of accidents that happened without one: during its first 40 months, there were 77 injuries (including deaths) on Ramona Boulevard, according to LADOT history, mostly from head-on and sideswipe collisions.

To make it safer, a city traffic engineer asked the state to approve a “narrow guard rail design with lights atop” that would go in the middle. The interim measure worked, and since then all high-speed state highways use a raised median or barrier in the center.

While Ramona can’t technically claim the “first freeway” title because it didn’t have a divider between sides, we wouldn’t have sussed out what a freeway needs to be without it. A real chicken or the egg situation.

The upshot is that the title of L.A.’s first freeway officially goes to its neighbor, the 110, the Arroyo Seco Parkway which mostly opened in 1940 — Ramona was L.A.’s scrappy trial run.

A growing freeway system

The interchange of the Harbor, San Bernardino, Santa Ana and Hollywood freeways in May 1957.

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Clinton H. Betz

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Los Angeles Photographers Collection/Clinton H. Betz Collection/Los Angles Public Library

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Through the 1940s, '50s, and '60s, coordinated state plans emerged to develop these routes and other thoroughfares, into a network of fast-paced freeways.

There was much back and forth between leaders about what freeway routes would exist, where they’d lead and how they’d be named. But eventually, crews broke ground on the newly named Santa Monica Freeway portion over the L.A. River in 1957. The eastern side near Alhambra, which used to be called Ramona Freeway, was already open and was renamed the San Bernardino Freeway in 1954.

A portion of the freeway was included in the interstate highway system in 1957, earning that recognizable I-10 number. Other sections were included under the 10 moniker later, in an honestly way too confusing way.

Growth came at a cost for those in the freeway’s path. The routes were put close to schools and residences, which Angelenos complained would impact people’s health over time. A west side section of the 10 also displaced thousands of residents, including folks who lived in the now bisected Sugar Hill neighborhood.

Innovations on the 10

Newly installed traffic condition information sign on the Santa Monica Freeway in 1973. This was a test message.

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Security Pacific National Bank Collection/Los Angles Public Library

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The 10 Freeway brought other big innovations to L.A., such as electronic message boards.

Citizens Against the diamond lane picket Gov. Brown's presidential campaign headquarters at 4055 Wilshire Blvd. demanding he review the experiment with an eye toward ending it on May 16, 1976.

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Mike Mullen

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Herald Examiner Collection/Los Angles Public Library

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According to Haddad, the new boards pointed drivers to another innovation: the diamond lane. Essentially a carpool lane, it ended up a flop. Drivers hated it because it took over an existing freeway lane and you could only use it if you had three or more people in your car. The dislike was so strong that the woman behind the lane received “sexist taunts and death threats,” according to Haddad.

Sexism in engineering would have to take another back seat, though. Marilyn Reece, designer of the 10 and 405 interchange, was the first woman engineer registered in California, and Caltrans dedicated this junction to her in 2008.

According to Haddad, the 10 is also the first to use white letters on green signs and turnouts for the California Highway Patrol to clear accidents.

It’s about the size of a park bench and made of steel and wood. The bench’s arm rests are formed by the letters “L” and “A” in a design that’s unmistakable to any sports fan. But the welder-artist who created it says it’s not a Dodgers bench.

“This is about civic pride, L.A. pride. I made a design statement saying that it has nothing affiliated with the Dodgers,” said Steve Campos.

Campos grew up near Dodger Stadium, raised by parents who were die-hard Dodgers fans. So much, that they named him after Steve Garvey but that legacy doesn’t keep him from confronting how the Dodgers benefitted from the mass displacement of working-class people from Chavez Ravine after World War Two. That’s why he calls it an L.A. Bench, and not a Dodgers Bench.

The logo may be synonymous with the city's beloved baseball team, but the design of the interlocking letters was used by the L.A. Angels minor league baseball team before the Dodgers moved to L.A. in 1958.

“The monogram was here before the Dodgers,” Campos said.

A second-generation welder

Welding is the Campos family business. His father created gates and security bars for windows and doors for L.A. clients. That was the foundation for the work Campos has done for two decades since graduating from Lincoln High School, L.A. Trade Tech College, and enrolling in a summer program at Art Center in Pasadena.

The inspiration for the L.A. Bench came last year while he was playing around in his shop creating versions of the L.A. logo. A friend he hangs with at Echo Park Lake asked Campos to make him a piece of furniture.

“I was trying to figure out what my friend Curly wanted. He liked Dodgers and drinking and getting into fights, so I was like, 'Let me make something with the LA monogram,'” he said.

Welder-artist Steve Campos created whimsical steel sculptures with the LA logo.

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Courtesy Steve Campos

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It didn’t design itself. He said he had to lengthen the legs on the “A” and lean the back of the “L” in order to make the bench functional. In the process, he’s made a piece of furniture with a ubiquitous logo that he’s embedded with his own L.A. pride, as well as city history past and present.

LA civic pride travels to Japan

Campos vacationed in Japan the last week of April and took advantage of the trip to reach out to people who may be interested in the L.A. Bench. He was caught off guard by people’s reaction when he showed them pictures of it.

“They look at it and they go, 'Oh, Ohtani bench,'” he said.

For them, it’s still a bench embedded with pride, he said, but centered around Dodgers star Shohei Ohtani, an icon in his native Japan.

Campos has made four L.A. benches and is selling them fully assembled, he said, for $2,500 each — taking into account his labor and how costly the raw materials have become. For now, he’s offering the metal parts as a package for $500, which requires the buyer to purchase the wood for the seat and the back — an easy process, he said.

While he has no plans to mass produce the L.A. Bench, he does have one goal in mind that shows how hard it is for him to separate L.A. civic pride and the Dodgers.

“I would love to get a couple of them installed at Dodger Stadium,” he said.

The Venice Boardwalk after sunset has generally been a no-go zone for tourists and locals alike, as the beachside bars and restaurants close on the early side and safety is often an issue. Now, a group of artists is out to bring some vibrancy to the creative neighborhood with a series of new installations that will include live evening performances – and even a “Venice Opera House.”

“Let's play with light and let's play with sound and give people a reason to come to the Boardwalk after sundown,” said artist and entrepreneur Stefan Ashkenazy, who is curating the project and owns the buildings housing them. “I mean, let's just be open 24 hours a day.”

The concept doesn’t have an official name yet, but he’s been calling it “See World.”

Artist James Ostrer's space looks out from a bed through the fence to the ocean at Venice Beach.

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Laura Hertzfeld

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LAist

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William Attaway, a longtime Venice artist, created a gallery space filled with various paintings and sculptures.

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Laura Hertzfeld

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LAist

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The pair of modern buildings on the Venice Boardwalk at Thornton Ave. – with their big balconies, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and seven open garage-style retail spaces – have sat mostly empty since Snapchat vacated their beachside offices in 2019. Ashkenazy recently bought the building and recruited artists to fill those front-facing spaces with creative work until a full-time tenant comes in.

Over the past several weeks the installations have been created in real-time, in public.

All of the projects are loosely along the theme of “home,” with each artist claiming a “room” in the two buildings that stretch across a full block on the Boardwalk. Several local Venice artists are featured, including William Attaway, whose intricate mosaic work is recognizable on the Venice public restrooms along the beach. Attaway’s space features a floating larger-than-life-sized statue and various works in a mini-gallery. In the next room is Robin Murez’s pieces, featuring carved wooden seats from her beloved neighborhood Venice Flying Carousel.

Ashkenazy is no stranger to wild (and wildly successful) art ideas. He’s the owner of the Petit Ermitage hotel in West Hollywood, a longtime haven for visiting artists, and the founder of the decade-old Bombay Beach Biennale, where artists install all kinds of work in an annual event near the Salton Sea. Many of the artists from that community are featured at the Venice project.

A "Venice Opera House" will host pop-up music events throughout the summer.

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Laura Hertfeldz

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LAist

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New York-based artist Greg Haberny's paintings on the wall of his Venice space.

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Laura Hertzfeld

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LAist

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New York-based artist Greg Haberny and London-based artist James Ostrer have brought some of their work in the Bombay Beach Biennale to the Venice project. Their windows on the Boardwalk both speak to a child-like sense of wonder and creativity.

“I think it's just kind of exploring and playing a little bit, to have the freedom to be able to do that,” Haberny says of his imagined child’s bedroom space, which includes a fort made out of puffy cheese balls. “It's a big space, too.
It's beautiful.”

Ostrer is experimenting with a performance art idea where he sits in bed amongst a room full of his own artwork, which he describes as “happy art with an edge.” Looking out at the ocean from the bed, he’s invited passersby to sit and have chats with him about his work or anything else they want to talk about.

“It’s a very intimate space, so you have a different kind of conversation,” he said. “I use art to channel human creativity, and [talk about] dark things.”

While there are open fences that block off the spaces, they aren’t sealed up at night. Both Ashkenazy and the team of artists seemed open to the idea that anything could happen and that the installations are a conversation with the public – and with that comes some risk.

Greg Haberny (right) works with his assistants on an installation featuring kid-inspired graffiti art and a "cheesy puff" fort.

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Laura Hertzfeld

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LAist

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“I don't really know if I [would] say worried, but I guess it's just the cost of doing business,” Haberny said. “I don't really make things to get damaged or broken, sure. But I have done [things like] burned all my paintings and then made paint out of ash.”

While he’s felt safe – and even slept overnight in the installation – Ostrer has been collaborating with a local female artist who performs in a pig mask in front of his installation some nights. Watching her perform, he said, has taught him about the vulnerability of women in public spaces like the Boardwalk. “I've started to, on a very fractional level, have seen how scary that is. Because I've sat in the bed behind her performing at the front here… the way in which men are approaching her and shrieking at her … it's shocking.”

Ashkenazy says he will keep the artists in the space, potentially rotating new ones in, until a fulltime tenant takes over.

“This is an experiment … and after acquiring the building, the intention wasn't, ‘let's open a bunch of public art spaces,’ he said. “It is kind of …what the building wanted and listening to what the Boardwalk needed. Let's play, let's have the artists that we love and appreciate have a space to play and engage and give the locals and the visitors to the Boardwalk something to experience.”

A new trail across the beloved natural area of Elephant Hill in Northeast Los Angeles is officially opening this weekend.

The route is years in the making, and it's a big milestone in the decades-long conservation efforts to preserve this local jewel in the community of El Sereno.

The hiking trail connects one side of Elephant Hill to the other — from the corner of Pullman Street and Harriman Avenue all the way across to Lathrop Street.

It's 0.75 miles in total, but packs a punch.

"It's a pretty straight shot, but because of the terrain — the trail is kind of twisty and curvy. There's switchbacks — and great views," Elva Yañez, board president of the nonprofit Save Elephant Hill, said.

People have always been able to access the 110-acre green space, but Yañez said the new trail provides a safe and easy way to navigate the steep hillsides.

The El Sereno nonprofit has been working for two decades to preserve the land. Illegal dumping and off-roading have damaged the open space over the years. And the majority of the 110 acres are privately owned by an estimated 200 individual owners.

Mountains Recreation and Conservation Authority (MRCA) joined the efforts in 2018, spurred by a $700,000 grant from Los Angeles County Regional Park and Open Space District, in part, to build the trail. The local agency received some $2 million in grants from the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy to add to the 10 acres of Elephant Hill it manages and conserves. This year, MCRA acquired an additional 12 parcels — or about 2.4 acres.

And the spiffy new footpath — with trail signage, information kiosks and landscape boulders — is not just a long-sought-for victory but a beginning in a sense.

"We know that it means a lot to the community," Sarah Kevorkian, who oversees the trail project for MRCA, said. "We're wrapping up the trail, but it really feels like the beginning of all that is to come."

A hint of that vision already exists — for hikers traversing the new route, courtesy of Test Plot, the L.A.-based nonprofit that works to revitalize depleted lands.

"They're able to see at the end of the trail, at the 'test plot' — exactly what a restored Elephant Hill would look like," Yañez said.

Here's a preview:

A coalition of residents from across the San Gabriel Valley are mobilizing over a battery storage project and possibly more industrial development in the City of Industry they say could pollute communities next door.

A protest is scheduled today in neighboring Rowland Heights, targeting a 400-megawatt battery energy storage facility sited on about 9 acres that was approved by the City of Industry leaders in January.

Such Battery Energy Storage Systems, or BESS, are used to keep the power grid stable, especially as output from renewable energy sources like solar and wind fluctuate. But fires involving lithium batteries at some sites have heightened environmental and public health fears.

Because of the City of Industry’s unusual, sprawling shape stretching along the 60 Freeway, it borders on more than a dozen communities, meaning what happens there can have far-reaching impact.

“Pollution does not end right at the border,” said Andrew Yip, an organizer with No Data Centers SGV Coalition. “Pollution travels.”

Some local activists with the Puente Hills Community Preservation Association have challenged the approval of the battery facility under the California Environmental Quality Act.

Beyond environmental concerns, locals have also been frustrated with how decisions are made by officials in the City of Industry, a municipality that’s almost entirely zoned for industrial use and has less than 300 residents.

Organizers say they’ve struggled to get direct responses from city officials whom they say have replaced regular meetings with special meetings, which under state law require less advance notice.

A city spokesperson has not responded to requests for comment.

The so-called Marici Energy Storage System Facility would be run by Aypa Power. The fact that the battery storage developer is owned by the private equity giant Blackstone, a major investor in AI and data centers, has only fueled concerns that a battery storage facility would lay the groundwork for data center development.

A request for comment from Aypa was not returned.

Today’s protest is taking place at Peter F. Schabarum Regional Park in Rowland Heights across the street from the Puente Hills Mall, a largely vacant “dead” mall, which activists fear could be redeveloped into a data center and bring higher utility costs and greater air and noise pollution.

Yip pointed out that industrial developments make a lot of money for the City of Industry.

“But none of these surrounding communities receive any of those benefits,” Yip said. “Yet we have to put up with all the harmful effects and impacts from this city that does all this development without really reaching out.”