Did you know Los Angeles had a Heritage Square? Me neither. It was no surprise when we depended on our phone to guide us there. Epic fail. I so hate phones. Evidently, people who live in Lincoln Heights don’t know it’s there either since no one we asked had ever heard of it. The only sign we finally managed to find was covered with stickers. Nonetheless, we eventually located the square down a long, narrow, residential street. And what a wonderful place it turned out to be.
There weren’t a lot of Victorian buildings, but they were gorgeous, and we were allowed to go inside. We attended a fall event meant to recreate October of 1918. Men infested with the Spanish flu had returned from The Great War to infect the general population. A bevy of volunteers, dressed in period clothing, set the panicked scene.
Every house had a theme. One contained a Phantasmagoria—a scary magic lantern show. Having studied this precursor to moving pictures, I was thrilled to see one in person. Sobbing loudly and occasionally screaming, the hysterical patron in the back row definitely lent a frightening dimension to the cheesy special effects. Boy, was it dark in there. It took my eyes a long time to adjust.
The painted lady above was set up to be the home of a famous silent movie actor who died of the Spanish flu. A volunteer stationed in the kitchen seemed disinterested in providing information until I asked questions about the house. He really came alive, eager to respond to my inquiries—yes, there was an upstairs bathroom and icebox on the back porch. He explained how the electrical switches worked and displayed an early toaster. Mourners in the parlor kept vigil over the actor’s coffin. We attended his Victorian funeral at the cemetery until the “flu patrol” told us to disperse because we were an unlawful assembly.
The living room of the lovely home above was staged as a neighborhood hospital. Against advice, we visited a flu victim. She really sounded wheezy when she breathed. I thought she might “die” before we left, but she didn’t. There was drama galore as she coughed and frantically inquired after the health of her husband and daughter.
Another house was dedicated to information about the toxicity of chemicals in makeup and dyes and the health hazards of corsets and various medications of the day. There was an interesting and historic pharmacy/soda fountain. We visited the restored train depot and a wonderful home garden.
The house pictured at left actually belonged to two cultists during the 1920s. We found the rowdy women lounging in their parlor, drinking illegally. They urged us to sign up for their cult and give them all our worldly possessions, claiming we would be rich beyond our wildest dreams once the cult achieved its goal of locating a stash of gold near Bakersfield. When someone stopped in the entry to read the newspaper articles describing the history of the house, one of the ladies yelled, “Don’t read that. It’s fake news!” Everything old is new again. They were pretty funny.
I’ve always adored Victorian architecture and enjoyed this outing immensely. The event was well-done. I’ll be back. It definitely inspired me to research our local historical society.
