Another side of the Hollywood sign

I once went to the open house of a property that was advertised as having views of the Hollywood sign. It was within reasonable proximity to Hollywood, the kind of drab, nominally Spanish Colonial duplex (arched doorways, inadequate parking) that you find all over neighborhoods east of La Brea, so I had no reason to doubt this claim. When I arrived, however, I caught no glimpse of the landmark. That is, until I walked into a bedroom and saw, next to a lava lamp and an inflatable plastic palm tree, a framed poster of the Hollywood sign.

Despite all I know about real estate agents and their creative marketing strategies, I still find it hard to believe that someone was passing off artwork as a view. It was foggy that day, and I suppose it’s possible that in the right weather and from the right vantage point (perhaps standing on a chair and craning your head out a window), a sliver of the sign might have been visible.

But did it really matter? Hollywood -- and by extension the Hollywood sign -- is often more appealing as a concept, or even a poster, than it is in reality. Sure, one of the great recreational pleasures of living in L.A. is being able to say, “Let’s hike to the Hollywood sign,” even though what you’re really saying is let’s hike up to the fence that surrounds the Hollywood sign (will the velvet ropes metaphors never cease?). But the sign is also burdened with a certain unassailable cheesiness.

Like Hollywood itself, which is less a snazzy glitteropolis than a wasteland of exotic lingerie stores and mildly depressing tourist attractions (there’s nothing like watching Michael Jackson impersonators fighting over territory to convince even an atheist that we’re in the End Times), the

sign can be cruelly underwhelming.

Not because of its size -- those letters are 45 feet tall -- but because something about it always seems just ever so slightly rickety. Indeed, its typography, spelled out across the hillside like alphabet magnets on a refrigerator, carries the macabre soupcon of a ransom note.

Lately, however, the sign has seemed more precarious than ever. Last year, after the Chicago-based investors who own 138 acres of undeveloped land near it announced plans to sell to developers, panic ensued: Not just the open space but the sign itself could be headed for oblivion.

Even though the sign is owned by the city of Los Angeles and it has never been at risk of anything except winding up on the down slope of some mansions, and even though the Trust for Public Land, which launched a campaign last year to buy the 138 acres and make them part of Griffith Park, never said the sign was up for grabs, news reports have referred to the sign being “razed.”

The prospect is just believable enough that when I read about a photo exhibit at the Pacific Design Center showing an L.A. architectural firm’s idea to turn the Hollywood sign into a traveling art installation, I didn’t immediately get that this was hypothetical.

But fear not. As Tim Ahern of the Trust for Public Land confirmed to me, the sign always has been out of danger, and in all likelihood the land soon will be too. Thanks to celebrity donors and high-profile stunts like draping the letters with a banner that read “Save the peak,” the trust has made enough noise that the investors promised to sell it to the trust for $11.7 million, if it could raise the funds by April 14. As of this week, the group is $3 million short of its goal, an amount that probably could be coughed up by way of some mogul simply clearing his throat.

Still, amid all the anticipatory hand-wringing, I can’t help but think back to the “view of the Hollywood sign” in that grim little duplex. The false advertising may have been laughable, but it also seemed strangely appropriate -- and maybe even perversely heartwarming. Hollywood isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, and neither, in certain respects, is its sign. But in a town that’s forever telling people (albeit indirectly) to take a hike, it’s nice to know there are so many scenic trails to choose from, and that the real Hollywood dream has at least as much to do with rocky paths as red carpets.

In other words, keep fighting for the open space but stop fretting about the sign already. And get your views -- and your dreams -- wherever you can. Even if they’re just poster-sized.

mdaum@latimescolumnists.com