Landmark Beckons, but Stands Out of Reach

They had come 3,000 miles to clamber up a steep dirt ridge and pose for pictures. With upturned palms, David Rothman and Kathy Mamo tried to create the illusion that they were holding up the Hollywood sign.

“The sign has a lot of meaning to me because of all the celebrities,” said Rothman, 49, of Fort Lauderdale, Fla., who was treating his fiancee to her first tour of the film capital. “Where did all the stars originate? Hollywood. Hollywood is the theme, the word. If you dissect the word, it would tell us: It’s glamour, it’s shine, it’s drama, the names, the people, the past and present. Everything revolves around the word.”

Mamo laughed. She joked that they had come up the mountain to talk to God, and finally pick a wedding date.

“He thinks it’s to see the sign,” she said.

But, yes, it was about the sign. Like millions of tourists, Mamo was drawn here by a force she found difficult to fully explain: to see the sign, get close to it, feel the strength of its aura.

“I asked her, ‘Is there anything you really want to do?’” said Cynthia Price, a friend who was showing the couple around Los Angeles. “She said, ‘I want to get a picture of the Hollywood sign.’”

Since the 1920s, the sign has been one of the world’s most photographed landmarks. When Price has guests in town, she takes them on a circuit that includes the Sunset Strip, Melrose Avenue, Hollywood Boulevard, Santa Monica Beach, Malibu and Rodeo Drive--and the sign. Seeing the Hollywood sign is always special to them, like visiting the Eiffel Tower.

“People always talk about trying to get near it--trying to touch it,” Price said. “When you come to L.A., what other monument do we have like this?”

The sign’s bold block letters--each one 45 feet tall--are somehow perfect for conveying the power and grandeur of the film world. Stripped across the summit of 1,700-foot Mt. Lee, like a banner heralding the gods of Olympus, it’s the trademark for a culture of limousines and sex and tragedy. The sign also conceals: It is the dream you see but can never quite reach.

Unlike the Eiffel Tower and other landmarks, the Hollywood sign cannot be directly experienced. You cannot touch it, much less ride to the top. You cannot run your hands across it, examine the broad pieces of sheet metal, explore the scaffolding that holds it in place. The rugged ridges and canyons below are laced with trails, but the streets leading to them are posted with no-hiking signs. Trespassing carries a fine of $283.

Thousands of fans feel a certain torment when they drive up Beachwood Drive into the cluster of looping residential roads a quarter-mile below the sign. They park and ask themselves: Do they risk a penalty to go higher? How far dare they climb?

Chris Keywood was facing that dilemma. The 20-year-old from Oceanside was living a bachelor’s dream--sightseeing in his ’91 Mustang convertible with two young women he had met recently. Keywood had bought a map of the stars’ homes and squired his new friends around Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and the mansions of Bel-Air before following the map up the hillside.

“It says ‘no access to the Hollywood sign,’ but you’ve got to ignore it,” Keywood said. He had parked near the end of Tyrolean Drive and hiked up a narrow service road into forbidden territory near a Los Angeles municipal water tank. With the sign just above them to the west, the visitors were thrilled.

“It’s cool,” said Amanda Teregis, 16, sporting star-spangled shoes.

Jennalee McCaslin, 18, showed off star-stenciled fingernails and was more effusive: “I didn’t know you could get so close. I want to go touch it. I want to go sit in the ‘L.’”

Keywood talked about the sign’s history. He recalled the despondent actress--Lillian “Peg” Entwistle--who committed suicide by jumping off the “H” in 1932. The sign, originally constructed to promote the residential development of “Hollywoodland” in 1923, was meant to last only a year or so. It had fallen into disrepair when it was sold, along with surrounding land, to the city of Los Angeles during World War II.

Like many of Hollywood’s leading ladies, it has had several face lifts since.

“It’s such a historic spot,” Keywood said. “Look how close we are.”

But they would get no closer. A tiny fenced enclosure near the water tank holds pole-mounted cameras and loudspeakers. As they got near it, a tape-recorded message began to ask that they leave the restricted area. A helicopter passed overhead, flying toward the top of the sign.

“Someone’s probably trying to do what I wanted to do,” McCaslin said.

At least 10 cameras and infrared monitors in several locations maintain a 24-hour watch on the landmark, protected by an elaborate security system installed in the mid-1990s. If you hike the trails toward the base of the sign, the brushy terrain becomes so steep you occasionally have to travel on hands and knees. Steps are gouged in places to ease the ascent, but get close enough and eventually you will be noticed in the rangers station at Griffith Park.

“We have you on video camera,” a voice will announce. “Remove yourself immediately or you will be subject to citation or arrest.”

The security is designed to shield the city from liability for hiking injuries and to protect a landmark worth millions in tourism dollars.

The Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, which helped save the sign from removal in 1978, owns a trademark and reaps licensing fees from key chains, mugs, T-shirts, lines of apparel, advertising and film rights. Though chamber officials won’t divulge the exact figures, the revenue exceeds seven figures and helps pay for planning studies, social services and historical preservation in Hollywood, including maintenance of the sign itself.

No one wants to be hard-nosed about dealing with starry-eyed tourists, said Gary Newton, chief park ranger for the city. Only three trespassing citations have been issued in the past year--when visitors have refused to obey orders to leave.

“I don’t think it’s realistic to think people will ever stop” trying to go up there, Newton said.

Sara Warrillowa made it well up the forbidden hillside. The 20-year-old from Birmingham, England, was escorted by James Hill, 23, a hometown friend now running a Los Angeles music production company. Their daunting climb took them to a clearing in the brush directly below the “D,” overlooking the city.

“It would be easier if they built a walkway,” Warrillowa said, “but [the hike] makes it a bit special. Hollywood ... we’re really here!”