Post #319657 by bigbrotiki on Wed, Jul 18, 2007 4:26 PM

All buildings in Southern California have termites. But not all buildings sit on a lot that has prime Playa Del Rey real estate value. As far as I understand it was completely razed and replaced with new generic condos.

The whole thing came as a shock to everyone because the Polynesian Village Apartments complex was ALWAYS fully rented out, and the landscaping was well maintained, with both main waterfalls still going.
The LA modcom begins to monitor noteworthy buildings once they go into decline, which is usually is a slow, noticeable process. But here the developer had obviously gotten smart, and to undercut the possibility of conservancy and community protests, he quietly removed the tenants one by one, and once the fence was up around the building, the tear down just took a month or two.

To me the unexpected loss of the place was frustrating also because this location was giving me a hard time, photographically, and I was not finished with it yet. I had been there multiple times in the course of my urban archeology expeditions, and never returned with the feeling of having captured the place. Either the afternoon light was coming from the wrong direction, or the direct sunlight was too harsh (it is difficult to photograph the high contrast of BLACK Tikis against WHITE walls), leaving me with over- and underexposed images.
Also, though Armet & Davis are famous for their sweeping Googie coffee shop designs, this building was kinda square, and not easy to capture through the lens. Early photos that have the typical lack of jungle growth because everything is still freshly planted make it look not THAT enticing:

This was one of the few apartment buildings that not only had its own postcard:

but also match books:

but in both the postcard and these early architect's photos below the foliage is still a little sparse in comparison to later, when I found it. To me, modernism works particularly well in Southern California because its clean, sparse lines lose their coldness when juxtaposed with the rich tropical flora that can grow so easily here:


The big waterfall in the middle of the complex was the showpiece, with Tiki torches blazing and gas flames coming out of the water (see also BOT page 217) These were of course not in use any more in the 90s.

To me, the most amazing aspect of the Polynesian Village apartments was the modern stylization of its Tikis. Here is a 1996 article (one of the earliest about Tiki as a pop culture phenomenon) that shows one:

To this day, I have no proof of WHO the carver(s) were that produced these imaginative and endlessly varied designs. My hunch is to say Andres Bumatay/Richard Ellis, but I have found no exact match in their other carvings yet. Whoever did THESE Tikis also did the cool carvings on the Kona Kai and Kona Pali apartments (see BOT page 222/223, and below).

When I discovered the settlement, there were not that many free-standing Tikis left, and the remaining few had severe palm wood rot. The constant sprinkler/direct sun back and forth had taken its toll:

Here are two more:

This is one of my favorites, I have no idea what happened to him. The photo of him on page 226 of the BOT was used by Accoutrements for one of their pencil toppers...so he survives that way:

The most amazing thing were the infinite variety of Tiki concepts that were carved into the building's decorative Outrigger beams. There must have been 40 to 50 beams, and each was individually carved with two or three unique Tiki designs. (You can see some in the background of the photos of page 210 and 216 of the BOT):

As was often the case, the different wings of the complex had different Hawaiian Hotel names. Here's a close up of a marvelously abstract Tiki on top of a beam:

The walk-through between two wings, with a cool midcentury light fixture in the background:

Of course the complex had tons of lava rock built into it, here's just one side wall:

Also, the A-frame car ports were cool:

Nowadays I am glad I have SOMETHING to show for my efforts, but I still feel the essence of the place eluded me. I regret not having photographed each and every individually carved beam. Sometime in the early 2000s a strange notice popped up on TC: An ex-tenant, a girl who was now working in Vegas as a dancer (!), had a line on a whole bunch of the poles. Supposedly they had been termite treated and were in some storage yard in Riverside. But the the price she had in mind was ridiculously high, and after having been laughed off by the TCers, nothing was heard of this loot again.

But a year or so later, a PVA Tiki came to me: I had already heard through the grapevine that during the brief period between closing down and the quick demolish of the complex it had been rented out as a film location, and that some crew people had absconded with some of the artifacts (not unlike the Chin Tiki's story). One day at Trader Joe's I ran into an old Film worker friend of mine who knew a prop guy who had a quickly rotting PVA Tiki in his yard. It was in sad shape, all mush inside, but my promises to take care of and restore the relic got me a free Tiki. I had to gut it completely, and used resin to soak the wood from the inside and foam to fill the empty spaces when I wrapped it around my right porch pole, where it still sits today. Beware of the CLOWN TIKI:

(Below its chin rests a piece of genuine lava rock from the Polynesian Village Apartments)

In addition to this, I would like to point out that the SAME carver(s) who did the above apartment complex also must have done the Kona Kai (Rosemead) and Kona Pali (Granada Hills) apartments, as evidenced by a similar "clown Tiki" in the Kona Kai's courtyard...

...and these Tiki beams, which have the same degree of modernist sylization than the Playa Del Rey apts...

...and are stacked in the same "totem pole" style.

[ Edited by: bigbrotiki 2009-04-21 12:48 ]