It’s on the way back down the course that everything suddenly falls into place. For more than an hour Evan and I have been running up the hill from Cahuenga Pass, looking for the corners listed on a small map on the back of a book. Everything is different up here now, so trying to piece together the specifics of the old Mulholland Racecourse isn’t easy. By the time we make it to The High Ground, past Beverly Glenn, we’re totally confused. Nothing looks like it should.
We turn around and head back through the intersection. Past the Fire Station that serves as a landmark for the start of the upper course. It’s still not working. Are these The Ss? A look at a different map later will reveal that a series called The Identicals comes first. Sideways is lost in a series of sweepers, but before we hit Coldwater, The European Straight looms. Nothing at all remains of The Grandstands, and the Sweeper is a little confusing, but all of a sudden, Carl’s comes into focus, we’re in the middle of it before we realize what it is; like Carl’s Jr. (Carl’s, only smaller) it’s revealed more through feel than sight. Out of Carl’s Jr. and Deadman’s is the most obvious thing in the world from this direction, a sheer cliff where the road just disappears, yet coming up, it looked and felt just like so many other corners that comprise this, LA’s most hallowed stretch of tarmac. And just like that, we’re off the course, heading back down to Laurel Canyon.
We’re up hear doing research for a project I may talk about later, if I can get it sorted out. We’re looking for a piece of Los Angeles’ racing heritage that dates all the way back to John Carradine and Gary Cooper in Duesenbergs. What’s happened instead is that I’ve become disgusted with the conditions up here. Mulholland, once a lonely stretch of asphalt atop the Santa Monica Mountains, has become a series of expensive real estate developments where LA’s rich can keep a baleful watch over the lower classes from a safe distance. Of course, keeping rich people happy is what the LAPD and the LA city council do best, so the racing that took place up here for nearly sixty years has totally disappeared. In place of a dirt lot filled with modified cars, Mulholland today sports signs that read “No Parking 9pm to 6am.” Speed limits are ridiculously low, and the area is totally over patrolled, and it’s getting worse by the year.
This is Los Angeles, shouldn’t the Police have something better to do in a city of four million people? What the hell happened to the criminal element in this city? When did they go all candy-ass? Why are there so many spare cops? Simple, the criminals are still here, but busting people for trying to drive at a productive speed on Mulholland makes money, arresting drug dealers and child molesters costs money. The end.
Whilst searching the internet for more information, I found these two videos. One is a day-trip to Mulholland for guys with Ferraris. It’s led by Chris Banning, a guy famous for spending his youth on Mulholland and surviving the scene. It’s a good little vid, though it’s sad to watch a bunch of supercars tool around the racecourse at speeds they can achieve in the parking lot of a 7/11.
The second vid unfortunately features the droning of resident LA-4 meathead Paul Moyer. It’s a pure exploitation clip, Paul clearly has had a slow week and so he’s decided to investigate a new underground scene THAT AT THIS POINT HAS EXISTED ON MULHOLLAND FOR 50 YEARS It’s kind of hard to watch, but like most of these old reports, the damage is done. Now it’s just a snapshot of history, interesting for its look at the Mulholland cars and culture it helped to undo rather than for the nonsense being spewed by an ambitious talking head.
Still, I’m left with a sense of hope. In all probability the transverse ranges will be here a fairly long time, longer than even the city of Los Angeles. One day, when the air is again clear, and the mansions of the rich have fallen into the canyons and burned, and the police have lost their authority along with the government they serve, things will begin again. At some point, people will want to look down from the hills on some new creation, and they’ll build a road to get up here. For a while it will all be quiet and peaceful, until some kid, in whatever passes for transportation in that far off day, discovers the joy of motoring quickly on a twisty road; the noise will return. Someday, Mulholland will again be built for those who would drive it.
