No Angels Flight--Just 153 Steep, Tiring Stairs

They huff, they puff, they trudge, they rest. They blow out big cheekfuls of air and lean back, gazing at the summit. You can almost hear them thinking, how much more?

Since a deadly Feb. 1 crash halted operation of downtown’s Angels Flight railway, a stream of people can be seen on any given weekday, attacking the 153 steps between Hill Street and California Plaza, the only remaining route up that stretch of the steep hill the funicular used to climb.

Some take to the stairs with a spring in their steps, but few are springing by the end. Others trudge with set jaws, staring grimly at their feet. A few stop to rest on the first large landing, looking up.

Their faces slowly take on a look of outraged disbelief as the reality of 136-still-to-go sinks in.

Mark Batis, 35, a temporary office worker, fended off questions at the top of the stairs, waving his hands before his face and heaving. “Just a second, I’m out of breath,” he said.

“I pay to park down there and work up here, so it’s a necessary evil for me,” he said. “I’d like to think this will force me to shed a few pounds.”

Officials haven’t said when Angels Flight will be rebuilt. Last month’s train crash killed Leon Praport, 83, of New Jersey, and injured seven other people. Investigators are still trying to figure out why one of the funicular’s two cable cars hurtled down the steep track and rammed the other.

In the meantime, travel has been relegated to the steps that run alongside the now-empty track, up the grassy hillside, with several landings and railings on both sides.

As on all good mountain summits, what looks like the top is not. The climber arrives at the faux summit full of triumph, only to find there are a few more flights beyond.

The stairs join two of downtown Los Angeles’ most popular places, the Grand Central Market, so busy at lunch hour that people hover waiting for tables, and the California Plaza, where office workers in neckties lounge as though it’s Sunday in the park.

The steps link, moreover, the disparate worlds of High Downtown and Low Downtown, two dimensions created by an urban design that bears the stamp of a malicious sense of humor.

Tourists and suburban visitors must contend, not just with the complexities of one-way streets, but also with the problem of depth. Third and Olive streets can look as if they cross on a map, but they actually exist on different planes. There are two Grand Avenues, one atop the other.

High and Low downtowns are not official designations. But they are clear enough to people who frequent the district.

High Downtown is skyscrapers and pricey restaurants; Low Downtown is bail bondsmen and two egg rolls for a dollar. High Downtown is ties and pantyhose; Low Downtown is Dodger caps and strollers. High Downtown is mostly white; Low Downtown is ethnically mixed.

The reconstructed Angels Flight connected these two worlds. Celebrated as a tribute to the city’s past, it also cut an opening past an escarpment that was starting to seem like a wall.

The train allowed people to defy the wall. Now, lots of the traffic on the stairs is office workers from above, spurning the Hope Street lunch spots for the market and taco stands below. Merchants at the market report only a slight drop in customers since the funicular crashed.

When office workers make the return trip up the steps, they are often gripping white plastic bags of fruit.

One such luncher, Deloitte & Touche employee Ockie Olivier, 25, paused on the first landing to frown at the remaining steps, and to complain that “it was much better” when the train was still operating.

Olivier’s credibility, however, was somewhat undermined when he revealed that he recently ran the Los Angeles marathon. “But I run, so I don’t need this,” he insisted.

There is an entire class of stair-climbers who are drawn to the chance to work up a sweat, drawn by the mere sight of 153 stairs.

“It’s a good little workout,” declared David Evans, a Hermosa Beach businessman in a crisp dress shirt and gold chain. He was marching up the stairs with a sure step to “prospect for business,” as he put it.

One sweaty young woman in office clothes and tennis shoes over her nylons seemed in for more formal exercise. She declined to answer questions, explaining, “Out--of--breath,” as she trotted by.

Others keenly miss the train. One elderly woman, midway up, was bent almost double, and leaning on the railing, so breathless she couldn’t speak, except to make a frustrated gesture toward the empty tracks.

Even those going downhill voiced complaints: “I’m getting dizzy staring at all these steps,” moaned a young girl in a pink T-shirt, trailing behind her friends.

Meg Duff, a tourist from the west coast of Ireland, was hoping to see Angels Flight, and was not just disappointed, but flushed and panting by the second landing.

“It’s a picture that appears in all the guidebooks,” she said of Angels Flight, between deep gulps of air. “I certainly think they should rebuild it. People come from all over the world to see it.”

Indeed, most people walking the steps agreed that the railway should be rebuilt, if it can be done safely--though some said they wouldn’t ride it. Their arguments included childhood memories of the old train, and city pride.

But most said they supported rebuilding Angels Flight for the simple reason that they like to go up and down the hill--between high and low--whenever they please.