The Palm Court Ballroom at the Alexandria Hotel, which was built in 1906, where the LA Tango Marathon took place Jan. 13-16.
I ventured out a Saturday evening on Jan. 14 to downtown Los Angeles for the first Los Angeles Tango Marathon.
The organizers billed the event as 40 hours of tango dancing during the course of three nights and two days at the Alexandria Hotel, built in 1906 and where the stars in the heyday of the 1920s through 40s graced its Palm Court Ballroom.
When I got to the hotel around 9:30 p.m., I parked in the garage located below the building and the smell of urine greeted me as I gave my keys to the sleepy attendant and took the elevator up to the first floor. The doors opened to a fluorescent-lit hallway area (a dancer who attended the night before said the lobby had looked like something from “Halloween” because the lighting was so dark, so it must have been improved.) To the right, a hallway with mailboxes lining its walls led to a graffiti-etched glass door that opened to Spring Street.
I entered the lobby area where red drapes hung along the right side (left, if you came in from 4th Street) and later I found that these hid some sort of employee or junk holding area, because there were copiers and other things that seemed to not have been used in a while, and there was detritus lying around. This is where the only bathroom for the event was located. Some male tango dancers were told that one was open up or downstairs, but after checking it out, they came back to stand in line with the women to use the small, somewhat dirty bathroom.
To the left, photos of the glamour stars of the 30s, 40s and 50s hung on a wall, and on a column there was a list hung in a gilt frame of the names of the rooms at the Alexandria: Charlie Chaplin, Humphrey Bogart, Mae West, Rudolph Valentino, Clark Gable, and Greta Garbo and so on. The hotel hosted presidents and stars in its heyday.
A security guard was sitting at a card table in the lobby near the 4th street entrance.
I wandered around, feeling like I had entered a bygone era, but one mixed with dim fluorescent lighting, the coming and goings of L.A. tango dancers and of the tenants of the Alexandria. The hotel has undergone a $14 million renovation, and apartments rent for as low as $575 to those who qualify.
Despite the renovation, a seediness permeated the lobby and general area. I had gone out to Spring Street to meet my friend, and then had to go around the block and enter through the 4th Street doors. Along the way I had passed some shady looking characters, one who seemed like he was on crack and others who looked like they had seen better days. Coming into the lobby, there was a sign that read, “Everyone Must Check in With the Security Desk,” but as I approached the table, the security guard was busy with his back turned toward the entrance; he was talking to a heavyset woman, dressed in a red dress with torn black stockings.
I peeked into the ballroom, as my friend and I were going to decide whether it was worth $20 to dance here, or if it would be better to go to Milonga Los Amigos in Pasadena, where Carlos Barrionuevo and Mayte Valdes, a dance couple who I have not yet seen perform but whom I have heard wonderful things about, were to perform. Going there would have cost only $15, which included the performance, food and dancing until 2 a.m.
As I was waiting for Christina, I saw a tanguera whom I knew come out of a door off to the left of the lobby. We said hello, and I told her I was looking for a place to eat before we went into the milonga.
“Oh, we ate here,” she said.
“Where?”
“At the restaurant right here,” she said pointing to the door where she came from.
“Oh, well we’re looking for something good.”
“It’s really good. I had some sort of bone marrow.”
I was doubtful, thinking that it was some sort of seedy coffee shop, but when Christina arrived we went in to see the menu. It had items like bacon wrapped matzoh balls under the section called Pig, and under Cow there was Snake River confit tongue, romesco, and croutons. The surroundings of the restaurant, called The Gorbals, were cool–very industrial with metal walls, tall rectangular stools made from highly polished press board, and an open floor plan. Punk or what I would call “industrial” rock was blasting loudly. It was like entering a portal to another world from the dim antique one we left in the lobby.
Overall, with the murky, old Hollywood glamour feeling of the hotel, contrasted with the super modern restaurant, and the Skid Row-like atmosphere of the outside area, I felt like I was in an episode of The Twilight Zone.
After our meal, our two other friends who joined us for dinner went in to the milonga as they already had their tickets ($85 full weekend pass, no classes, just all day and all night milongas). Christina and I looked inside, and although we were doubtful about the floor, which was covered with dark blue linoleum, we decided to stay.
We searched for a place to sit and put our stuff, there were no tables and not enough chairs. The four of us shared two chairs and stuffed our shoes bags etc. under or around them.
My first several tandas on the floor were okay. “Not too bad,” I thought to myself, “not sticky and I can move.”
However, two hours later my feet and legs were killing me. Normally I can last a whole night at a place like the Tango Room or the Argentine Association, and my feet and legs wouldn’t hurt at all. The proprietor of the place, whom a friend introduced me to, told me that underneath the linoleum there was a sprung floor. I told him I did not think so, but he insisted. I queried a few dancers, and no one believed it was sprung. It felt like linoleum on top of concrete.
“If it’s sprung,” one dancer said, “then its springs have sprung a long time ago.”
During a trip to the bathroom, while standing in line, I met a woman from Germany. We talked and she made disparaging remarks about the bathroom, rightfully so, and then paused.
“Are all the L.A. milongas like this?”
“Is this your first time to a L.A. milonga,?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“Did you fly here just for this?”
“Oh, no, not really, I am in the airline business and my friend and I arranged it so we could fly here during this weekend. And this is not what we expected at all. There are no tables, not enough chairs, no food, the floor is not so good. And the bathroom, this is terrible! In Germany, we have nice places and everything is set up beautifully with tables and chairs, and food too!”
“Oh no, this is not at all representative of milongas in Los Angeles,” I tried to assure her. “This is the first time they have done this, although the organizers have done other events so they should know what to do. You should go to some of the milongas in Los Angeles while you’re here so you can see what it’s really like, the tango scene in L.A.”
But the woman said she did not have time, they were leaving the next day. I urged her to come back some other time to truly experience the nice milongas of Los Angeles.
While I didn’t dance much after the first few tandas because my feet were killing me, and there was not really a comfortable place to sit and talk with other people, I stayed until 3 a.m. (didn’t go in until 11 p.m.) so I could feel that I somehow got my money’s worth.
I heard that more than 100 people went to Los Amigos and that the performance was fantastic. Next time.
