Brand Renew

I first saw the spectacular Brand Library in Glendale 15 years ago when I was writing a column called “Unknown L.A.” for the now-defunct Los Angeles Herald Examiner.

The idea of the column was that Los Angeles, for all its fame, was not a tourist city in the usual sense. Visitors would arrive, check out Hollywood Boulevard, Disneyland, Venice and the Universal Tour, and that was about it. Other historical, architectural or just plain unusual treasures abounded in the city, but because of L.A.’s huge size and feeble mass transit system, these structures remained mostly unknown to outsiders and even to many who lived here.

Brand Library, built as a residence in 1904, certainly fit the bill. Even with the Thomas Guide, I remember it was not easy to find. I had to take a labyrinthian route through a suburban residential neighborhood that seemed to be far more akin to the “Leave It to Beaver” era than that of Victorian mansions.

Suddenly, a gap opened in the lineup of houses and there in the distance, across several acres of well-groomed parkland, was a “dreamy white Islamic fantasy,” as appropriately described in the book “The City Observed: Los Angeles,” by Charles Moore and others.

With its minarets, elaborate arches and wide concourses, all framed by palm trees and other greenery, the Brand Library truly did appear a shimmering oasis. And if that wasn’t inspiration enough, it was a library, about as noble a role as a community building can have.

I got out of the car and enjoyed it from a distance, then drove through the gate and onto the long driveway. Kids were playing in the park, but it was dusk and the building was closed for the night. I walked around it, alone, spinning my own fantasies about exotic, faraway places.

I returned to the building several times over the years, sometimes venturing inside to browse through the library’s collection that focuses on art and music, and on other occasions just watching the scene in the park, which like the library is owned and maintained by the city of Glendale. (Real estate tycoon Leslie Brand specified in his will that the house and grounds were to go to the city only if they were used as a public library and park, respectively).

On weekend afternoons, it was not unusual to see large wedding parties using the grand building as a backdrop for pictures.

But I had not been there for some time when, last year, I found myself in its neighborhood while on a bicycle ride with a friend. I mentioned the Brand Library enthusiastically, and although he had lived in L.A. for several years, he had never heard of it.

“Oh, are you in for a treat,” I told him.

We turned into the driveway and there in the distance was the Brand, but it was hardly a “dreamy” edifice.

Pieces of the lovely arches and ornamentation had crumbled away, some of the walkways were boarded up and the whole exterior looked dingy.

My friend loved it. “Cool,” he said. “It’s like coming across desert ruins.”

*

The ruin-lover will be disappointed with what has happened to the building since. Quietly, the Brand Library has been returned to its former glory.

The deterioration I had seen last year was not the result of neglect--it was caused by the Northridge earthquake.

“This building is on solid rock and it has survived four or five major earthquakes,” said library manager Joseph Fuchs. “But we had a lot of damage from Northridge.”

On the morning of the earthquake, Fuchs and other staff members made their way to the library, only to find pieces of the beloved building had shaken off. The large round plaster medallion once above the front walkway had fallen and shattered. “We gathered up all the pieces we could find and saved them,” Fuchs said.

Except for the front entrance, which crews eventually boarded up, the structure was declared sound. After a week of cleanup, the library reopened.

Two years later, the front door was reinforced and reopened. But why did it take until late 1998 for the major overhaul of the exterior to begin?

“There were long negotiations with FEMA,” said Fuchs. In the end, the Federal Emergency Management Agency paid for most of the repairs and some updating.

“They put metal bracing in the arches,” Fuchs said, “to bring it up to code.”

*

Artisans took the pieces of the medallion he had saved and re-created it. The “temporary” boards on the walkways came down and the whole exterior got a fresh coat of paint.

The Brand Library could proudly resume its rightful place with other local examples of notable fantasy architecture, such as the Aztec Theater downtown and the temporarily closed Getty Museum in Malibu.

The interior is not as graceful as the exterior.

As a functioning library, the Brand has copying machines crowded into the old drawing room, computers in what was once the dining room and the grand fireplace in the reception area is now used to hold rental videos.

But that may eventually change. The city has commissioned architects to design a new structure that will house much of the library’s facilities and collections, and the house will be restored.

“There would be no modern equipment showing,” Fuchs said. “The rooms in the original house would be comfortable, really magical places for reading.”

That major restoration, if approved, is several years in the future. For now, Fuchs and his staff are happy to have at least the exterior of the Brand Library looking regal. Except for one minor annoyance.

*

“When we were boarded up, the wedding pictures eased way off,” Fuchs said, looking out on the park. He didn’t miss them because the wedding parties sometimes blocked the driveways and caused congestion.

“I guess,” he said with a smile, “they will be back.”