by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Shortly after settling in the pueblo of Los Angeles in 1827, becoming the second Anglo do so (following the shipwrecked Joseph Chapman), Jonathan Temple purchased a piece of property south of the Plaza, the historic center of town. The tract came to a sharp point at its northern end, this being the confluence of Calle Principal (Main Street) and Calle Primavera (Spring Street). At that location, Temple built, in the late 1840s, a two-story adobe structure that was known as the Temple Block.
About a decade later, at the southern end of the property, he added a two-story brick building, among the first larger commercial edifices built out of that material, with the Los Angeles Star of 14 November 1857 observing that the stores in the structure “command the admiration of all who visit them” and that they were of a “style of magnificence far surpassing anything of the kind in this section of the State.”
After Temple’s death in San Francisco at the end of May 1866, his widow Rafaela Cota de Temple sold the Block to her brother-in-law, F.P.F. Temple, as a previous post here discussed. Notably, shortly before he died, Jonathan listed the 1857 building for sale, but it was not purchased by anyone at the time he passed away.
F.P.F. paid $10,000 for the property and then, over the next few years, erected three new structures, one each on Main and Spring streets comprising two stories and the last, finished in fall 1871 at that northern point where Temple Street began and then gradually moved west into the adjoining hills, spanning three stories and housing the Temple and Workman bank on the ground floor, as well as many professional offices above and Henry Dockweiler’s saloon in the basement.
The Temple Block was the center of a growing commercial district developing during the Angel City’s first growth boom, which commenced about the time he built his first addition to the Block in 1868 and continued until a financial panic in 1875 that included the collapse of the Temple and Workman bank, this being the first substantial business failure in Los Angeles. Stores, offices for doctors and lawyers, and other businesses were found in the Block, as well as nearby structures like the business block of ex-governor John G. Downey, where Jonathan Temple’s house was once located.
Even after F.P.F. Temple lost the Block, it remained a focal point of business activity in the city, though the next big boom, which took place in the last part of the 1880s, meant that it was no longer at the center of the commercial core of Los Angeles. This, in fact, continued its southerly march through the end of the 19th century and into the 20th, and, increasingly, the Temple Block became less important.
In fact, the third major boom in the city, which began as the new century dawned, caused municipal leaders to contemplate a new city hall, formerly in another Jonathan Temple structure, the 1859 Market House directly south of the Block, to replace the one that was on Broadway. Among several locations that were identified as contenders for the new municipal complex was the Block.
In November 1909, the Los Angeles City Council overwhelmingly voted to purchase the property from its owner, the Temple Block Corporation, the directors of which were the prominent Jewish merchants Kaspare Cohn, Marco A. Newmark and Newmark’s father, Harris, who acquired the tract more than three decades before after the Temple and Workman failure. The purchase price was a half million dollars, with $125,000 provided by business leaders and financing terms arranged over a matter of years.
The Angel City’s new mayor, reformer George Alexander, who was just installed after a special election to replace the scandal-ridden Arthur C. Harper, delayed in signing the contract, with it being declared by the Los Angeles Herald of the 28th that “one side wanted him to sign it and the other side wanted him to veto it, and both sides made life miserable for him.” He was called constantly at the office and at home and “they called him out of bed several times a night,” and the new mayor told the press that, whether a City Hall was built there, the purchase “is a good investment.” Alexander did allow that “there is plenty of room for a good building on the Temple block site.”
Yet, it took nearly two decades for the project to get done as there were varied proposals for a civic center, some extremely ambitious and grandiose. By 1925, however, a decision was made for a more modest scale and scope, even as the City Hall structure was a dramatic departure from the ongoing rule that limited building heights to eleven stories—not over earthquake concerns, but rather to keep downtown from being largely darkened by skyscrapers like those found in New York City or Chicago. Moreover, the architectural team of John Parkinson, Albert C. Martin and John C. Austin came up with a style that the latter called “Modern American” free from any specific style, though the Los Angeles Conservancy identifies the edifice as being in the Art Deco style.
As 1926 dawned, it was clear that the Temple Block’s days were numbered. The Los Angeles Times of 3 January ran a lengthy feature by Samuel A. Israel with the headline “Historic Temple Block Surrenders to March of Progress After Seventy Years” and he began the piece with a paranormal perspective about the site:
Ghostly memories—specters of the spirit and romance of a Los Angeles that was—steal on halting feet through the time-corroded halls of the old Temple Block.
They are silent, these stately ghosts of a vanished age, silent and tragic and come to take a final farewell of the historic halls and rooms where they juggled men and events, and gave the city the vital spark to greatness.
They have been evoked, these ghosts, by the oncoming doom of the Temple Block and the buildings among which it stands. Progress has signed the death warrant of the district and soon that segment of Los Angeles which served as the cradle and nursery of the young city of 1850 will become but a treasured memory.
Israel noted that work was already underway as the Bullard Block, built in the early 1890s on the site of the Market House, which long served as city hall and the county courthouse, was being demolished and would be no more inside of a month. He continued that “the historic old Temple Block, grown warped and cracked with years, has a short period of grace remaining” and added “its rooms still have their quota of tenants, its halls still resound to the occasional murmur of voices” and the plying of visitors.
The journalist noted, though, that the noise echoed “the certain sign of desolation and emptiness” as he observed that there were “great, gaping holes where the plaster has fallen off” and “the very floors are rotted and gaping.” It was just a matter of time before the Block, said to have been built by F.P.F. Temple in 1856, “will be obliterated,” along with all structures from First to Temple streets, south to north, and from Main to New High streets, east to west.” All of these edifices “with their memories and history, are to be erased for all time to make way for the new City Hall.”
In its heyday, however, the Block “towered above the Plaza as the infant community’s most stately and beautiful edifice” and “its list of tenants read like a roster of the fiery pioneers who gave the city shape and soul and the plans and projects framed in its halls and offices later made a city’s history.” Prominent lawyers were mentioned, such as Stephen M. White, later a United States Senator, and the firm of Glassell, Chapman and Smith, while also mentioned was Will D. Gould “who had his offices in the building for fifty-three consecutive years.” It was noted, though, that the 80-year old attorney, vacated on New Year’s Day.
Other occupants observed included the clothing store of the Jacoby Brothers, with it said that “their place for years was the headquarters of the dandies and fashion plates of the time,” and the Fashion Saloon, “a historic oasis [which] kept open house in another corner for twenty-four hours every day.” Former council member George P. McLain, who was responsible for managing the Block for the City, recalled his initiation in the Odd Fellows fraternal order there, while he told the paper that, when he arrived in the Angel City in 1868, “the Temple Block was the hub of all social and business activities in Los Angeles.”
As for those buildings “about to be wiped out for the sake of progress,” Israel recorded that they “are weatherworn and in a picturesque state of disrepair but each has its history and about each cling the romance and color of a departed period.” While these were “the cradle of the young community’s business and industrial life,” it was “the tendency of the city to sprawl southward.” Notably, the Times issued an errata, stating that the Block was built in the late 1860s, not 1856, though, as noted above, the first portion of adobe was from the late Forties and the first brick portion from 1857.
The Los Angeles Express of 1 February ran a detailed feature by Rockwell Hunt, dean of the University of Southern California graduate school and president of the Historical Society of Southern California, as well as writer of books and articles on regional history, calling for the beginning of plans for the sesquicentennial (150th birthday) of Los Angeles, which was five yeas out. An 1870s photo showing a portion of the last addition to the Temple Block and surrounding areas was included, even as destruction of the property was imminent.
The 19 February edition of the Los Angeles Record included an editorial by Tom Marvel titled “A Major Operation” which observed that “Los Angeles is tearing its heart out” as wrecking crews, comprised of “happy Mexican” laborers, worked to dismantle “those dusty, venerable buildings staring down on Spring and Main streets . . . where once the life-blood of Los Angeles coursed.” Marvel observed,
Fact is, as any up-and-coming citizen of the White Spot [a name bestowed on the rapidly burgeoning Angel City] will explain, they’ve been allowed to stand around too long in a city which prides itself on its progress and growth. It’s like showing pictures of his childhood to a young fellow who has just climbed into long pants.
After noting the passing and imminent destruction of such landmarks as the Bullard Block and the Jerry Illich, Vienna and Mora’s restaurants, the writer continued that “later the Temple Block . . . will be crumbled to dust,” though he added “for the present, however, it will be allowed to remain, since it stands just north of the site of the new city hall.” In fact, Marvel and Israel erred in thinking that F.P.F.’s 1871 final segment was the entirety of the block, when, as stated earlier, it comprised four buildings (including the 1857 edifice by Jonathan and late Sixties structures by the younger Temple.)
In any case, Marvel ended his piece by commenting,
So passes a group of buildings, every brick of which could represent a memory of the almost-forgotten city of the past. On its foundations will rise a new city hall—the heart of a new city as different from its forerunner as radio masts are from ornamental cupolas . . . . A city where ringing traffic signals have replaced the tinkle of the horse car’s bell; where the hungry noon crowds go to “sandwich shoppes” instead of to beer lunches, and where old-time bar mirrors reflect the backs of ladies’ necks in a barber chair.
The Express of 4 March ran an article showing Mayor George Cryer with a gold shovel ceremoniously used to mark the beginning of the end of the Block and it was reported that, despite “leaden skies and an occasional sprinkle of rain,” a record crowd, including city, county and state officials, turned out. There was, however, an issue with the demolition contract as the Los Angeles Illustrated Daily News of the 9th reported that W.W. Mackey’s bid of just shy of $5,000 was considered too rich for the Board of Public Works.
The featured photo from the Museum’s collection for this post is unusual in that, whereas most images of the Temple Block show it from the Main, Spring and Temple intersection looking southward, this was taken from the southeast along Main Street, showing the eastern elevation of the 1857 structure and the two others northward. Deterioration of the facing of the edifices with exposed brick in some places is readily apparent, along with the handsome decorative features employed in each.
Several signs, in English and Spanish, note the impending closure of stores, as well as to indicate the changing clientele of the establishments located within the structures. One merchant’s banner in Spanish advertises tents and tarps and another business was a “Government Goods Store.” An empty men’s clothing store bears the name “B.S. Lazarevich” and a faded sign above it partially reads “Slovenska” referring to the part of southeastern Europe from which the proprietor hailed.
At the southeastern corner of the 1857 building are signs in English and Spanish for Dr. Arturo Pallais (1876-1961), a physician and surgeon who was also a consul for Nicaragua and Honduras and who vacated these quarters for ones just a short distance south at Main and First. Pallais’ namesake son assisted him as consul and ran a Spanish-language theater from 1927-1936, among other endeavors, while daughter Virginia (1920-2007) followed her father into medicine and, for about fifteen years, ran her practice in the historic López Adobe in San Fernando, while also being the first woman chief of staff at Holy Cross Hospital in Mission Hills and the first woman to hold that position west of the Mississippi River.
As Marvel remarked, the 1871 portion of the Temple Block remained standing until mid-October 1927, while the City Hall project progressed. A previous post here noted the efforts of Gould to help Walter P. Temple salvage relics from the structure, including bricks used to finish the upper portion of the Tepee retreat built in 1927 adjacent to La Casa Nueva as well as the safe (not, it turned out, the one from the Temple and Workman bank, but from its successor, the Los Angeles County Bank) placed in the house’s basement. In this way, the Temple Block lives on with portions embedded at the Homestead!
This blog brought a heavy reminiscent lament to readers over the collective farewell bid by Angelenos a century ago to the disappearing Temple Block.
Over time, a cyclical pattern emerges, with each passing two or three decades ushering in a new generation marked by ambitious individuals eager to seize fresh opportunities. This drive often leads to the demolition of aging structures, making way for contemporary ones, or the relocation of business hubs to align with new plans.
Such recurring cycles in history open out as a series of arrivals and departures, weaving stories into every brick, embedding people, events, or activities within the weatherworn walls, and leaving footprints on the eroded floors. Those articles, editorials, and statements quoted in this blog not only present a tangible and shared sense of heart-wrenching reluctance, but also prove that while witnessing the streams of change, the resonated emotion and struck heartstrings can easily turn each observer into a potential poet.
Thanks Larry for the poetic perspective on this post. A lot has been said, understandably, of the post-World War II “urban renewal” reshaping of Los Angeles, but, there were precedents, such as what happened during the Roaring Twenties. We appreciate your continued interest!