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Griffith Park is a rarity in Los Angeles: 17 square kilometers of real
estate dedicated to public enjoyment. Located at the north end of the
Los Angeles “basin” on the slopes of the Santa Monica Mountains, much of
it is hilly wilderness undeveloped except for hiking trails. But it has
several developed attractions, the most famous of which is Griffith
Observatory. On a hilltop 346 meters high, the Observatory offers a view
of the stars at night, and of Los Angeles (and its layer of smog) during
the day. Also within the park are a zoo, museums, an equestrian center,
pony rides, a merry-go-round, and a Greek-style amphitheater.
After making his fortune in Mexican silver mining, “Colonel” Griffith J.
Griffith moved to Los Angeles in 1882 and turned to real estate
speculation. His first acquisition was a large chunk of Rancho Los
Feliz, formerly a land grant from the 18th century Spanish Colonial era.
Inspired by the urban parks he had seen in Europe, Griffith donated
1,220 hectares of this property to the City of Los Angeles in 1896 as “a
place of recreation and rest for the masses, a resort for the rank and
file, for the plain people.” Subsequent donations and acquisitions
expanded Griffith Park to its current size.
Looking through a large telescope at the Mount Wilson Observatory just
north of Los Angeles inspired Griffith to dream of his own observatory.
In 1912 he offered the City $100,000 to build one in the park, but the
City Council rejected it on “moral” grounds. Griffith had served two years
in San Quentin Prison for the attempted murder of his wife in 1903.
Sanctimonious city officials denounced the offer as a
bribe meant to salvage Griffith’s reputation.
That didn’t deter Griffith from establishing a trust fund and pursuing
the observatory. By 1916 he realized he would not live to see his dream
realized, so he put detailed provisions for it into his will. The
terms specified a telescope and a museum with specific exhibits,
including one on evolution. He also required free public access to all
of it.
Griffith died in 1919. By 1930, the memory of his crime had faded enough to allow the Griffith Trust to convene a panel of astronomers and architects. Their initial exterior design for the Observatory was in the Spanish Colonial Revival style, an idealized reflection of 18th century mission architecture practically obligatory for Southern California public buildings in the 1920s and ’30s. It might have looked something like the Santa Barbara Courthouse, in white adobe with the planetarium and telescope domes covered in red tiles.
But after the Long Beach
earthquake in March 1933, the panel scrapped that nearly-complete plan in favor of more
substantial concrete. And rather than looking backward to the 18th century, they chose an
ultra-modern look that emphasized the building’s purpose. That of course meant the
streamlined curves of “Art Moderne” and the geometric patterns of “Art Deco,” styles
synonymous with everything “modern” and “futuristic” in the 1930s.
Construction began in June 1933. The economic clouds of the Depression
held a silver lining for the Griffith Observatory. The contractors could
get high quality construction materials at bargain prices, along with
ready supply of federally-subsidized highly skilled labor. Another
benefit was the Astronomers Monument, a 12-meter obelisk in front of the
Observatory. As part of a federal Works Progress Administration program
that employed artists to beautify public works projects and buildings,
six sculptors depicted the influential astronomers Hipparchus, Nicholas
Copernicus, Galileo, Johannes Kepler, Isaac Newton, and William
Herschel.
The Observatory opened on 14 May 1935. For nearly 67 years, anyone could view the night sky through a 30-centimeter refracting telescope, and visit the exhibits in the Hall of Science. Inside the planetarium dome— 23 meters across, one of the largest in the world— a real live astronomer answered questions and used a Zeiss star projector to reveal a night sky that, for most Los Angeles residents, was too often obscured by smog and light pollution. In addition to enlightening the general public, the planetarium was a tool for celestial navigation training, first for World War II pilots and later for astronauts. The Observatory and its grounds have also figured prominently in movies and television series.
The Observatory closed for an overhaul in January 2002. The project took
just under six years and cost $93 million (a combination of private
funding and a bond issue). Excavating a new basement expanded the
original 2,500 square meters of exhibit space to 3,700 square meters.
The planetarium was completely gutted; it got a new projection surface,
state-of-the-art digital laser projection and sound systems, and a new
Zeiss star projector. Best of all, the decrepit 1964-vintage seats with their
hard wood headrests and protruding springs were replaced with very
comfortable new ones. The outside of the dome got new copper sheathing.
And it got a new name: the Samuel Oschin (“ocean”)
Planetarium, after the late real estate developer whose family foundation
provided a significant portion of the private funding. Other parts of the
Observatory also got renamed for various donors. Despite the interior
modifications, the original Art Deco exterior remained intact in all its
details, after cleaning and some restoration work.
The Observatory reopened in November 2006 to fanfare and controversy. To
manage the expected crowds during the first year, most visitors had to
park near the zoo and ride a shuttle bus to the Observatory. Tickets for
the bus required an advance reservation and cost $8. Critics questioned
whether this scheme violated the terms of Griffith’s bequest, which
required free public access to the Observatory. Officials explained that the $8 charge
was merely an optional convenience fee that defrayed the costs of operating the buses.
Anyone could still visit for free, with no reservation required, by forgoing that
convenience and hiking to the Observatory on one of several park trails.
The sharpest critical barbs were directed at the new planetarium show,
Centered in the Universe. Instead of a real live astronomer
answering audience questions, an actor carrying a glowing plastic orb
serves as the master of (scripted) ceremonies. And the $7 million Zeiss
projector makes only a three-minute cameo appearance in a presentation
that showcases the wonders of Hollywooden computer-generated “immersive”
animation. Critics accused Observatory officials of dumbing down the
planetarium experience, and questioned whether the slight content that
skims over historical episodes fulfills Griffith’s mandate to educate
and inspire the public about astronomy and science.
I walked into the Samuel Oschin Planetarium with no expectations beyond a fond
recollection of visits as a kid in the 1960s. I knew nothing about the show, and was
unaware of the controversy until I did the research for this web page. That said, I found
Centered in the Universe disappointing. It seemed perfectly tailored for an
Adderall-saturated audience accustomed to texting, emoji, and movies that revolve around
special effects. Regrettably, the producers were probably correct in assuming that few
people today would appreciate the planetarium shows I remember, in which an enthusiastic
knowledgeable astronomer demonstrated the wonders of the night sky using nothing more
elaborate than a lighted pointer. (As of January 2026, Centered in the Universe remains the featured
planetarium show. I don’t know if they’ve changed or improved it. They’ve also added two other shows I haven’t seen.)
More troubling was the apparent lack of maintenance throughout the facility when I visited, 11 months after the reopening. On the way out of the planetarium, I asked one of the operators about a white streak that marred the high-tech digital video projection. He glowered at me and said it was a “defect in the projector system.” A video presentation featuring Star Trek’s Leonard Nimoy describing the history of the Observatory and the renovation project was canceled because the projector was broken. (I later found complaints from bloggers about focus problems with that projector.) Various museum exhibits had broken switches or burned-out lights.
Despite those concerns, Griffith Observatory is a Los Angeles landmark that is well worth a trip. Go in the late afternoon to see the sun paint the Observatory’s white concrete gold before setting into the smog layer over the Los Angeles basin. A weekday visit would be best, preferably in the spring or autumn.
The reserved remote parking requirement was discontinued in November 2007, allowing visitors to drive directly to the Observatory at any time it’s open— at least in theory. But the very limited parking near the Observatory created terrible congestion, which officials finally attempted to mitigate in 2016 with a $4 hourly parking fee that has since inflated to $10 per hour. Visitors able to enjoy a bracing uphill hike can still park for free in lots elsewhere in Griffith Park, the nearest of which is a mile (1.6km) away from the Observatory.
For visitors unable or unwilling to either hike or pay for hourly parking, the
DASH Observatory shuttle bus runs from the Vermont/Sunset Metro Rail Red Line station to
the Observatory and back on a reasonably frequent daily schedule. Unfortunately, there is no parking anywhere near
that station. I don’t know whether that’s a stupid oversight or a deliberate
strategy to promote Metro Rail ridership. You can check the the
MTA website to find
the most convenient Metro Rail station that does have parking and ride from there. You might also try parking
in the lot for the Greek Theatre within Griffith Park, which is near a stop on the
shuttle bus route.
In the late 1940s, a group of rail enthusiasts decided that children would enjoy “playing engineer” in a kind of petting zoo for trains. Kids apparently found that immensely appealing back in the days when passenger trains where the dominant form of long-distance transportation. As Griffith Park already had a miniature railroad, a collection of real trains would complement it well.
The timing was perfect. Railroads all over the country were then in the process of replacing their old steam engines with modern diesel locomotives. The Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks had no difficulty getting a wide range of donations from railroads looking for a place to dispose of their obsolete equipment.
After Travel Town opened to the public in 1952, the collection continued to expand with ever more donated hardware. Some of the donations were one-of-a-kind items with genuine historical interest, while others were little more than junk. By 1965, the Recreation and Parks Department needed to completely overhaul and reorganize the collection. But they continued to accept donations, not all of which were related to railroads. By the 1980s, Travel Town’s haphazard assemblage had become a deteriorating junkyard that included cars, airplanes, fire engines, and construction equipment.
Rather than closing down a popular family attraction that was rapidly becoming unsafe, park officials devised a master plan in 1987 to transform Travel Town. They would discard the extraneous items, and create an interactive museum that tells the story of railroads in the West from 1880 to the 1930s. Children would still be able to play on the trains— an activity that remains fascinating long after airlines all but supplanted passenger trains— but the pruned and restored collection would acquire a “unified educational dimension.”
The revamped Travel Town Museum is now a popular venue for family picnics and birthday parties,
whose participants may not realize they’re being “educated.” The restored, brightly painted
locomotives and train cars— along with the random odds and ends that the master-planned
reconfiguration did not completely eliminate— also appeal to adult rail fans and photographers.
Fern Dell is a hidden oasis at Griffith Park’s southwestern corner. A trail meanders along a stream with mossy rocks and numerous small waterfalls (a pumping system ensures a continuous flow of water throughout the year). Shaded from the sun by California sycamores, over fifty species of fern grow alongside assorted tropical plants and flowers.
This “Cultural-Historical Landmark” is a quiet place for reflection or a picnic. If you’re more athletically inclined, the trail through Fern Dell continues on to the Observatory via two different trails.