Early History of Olympic Auditorium Los Angeles CA
Posted: 02 Jan 2023, 22:25
Hey Gents
As part of a chapter in my book I researched the origins of the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, CA. Thought I'd share what I discovered, as it's a fascinating time capsule of the months leading up to the Grand Opening in 1925.
Interesting side note: The mural of Jack Dempsey over the front entry was added some time after 1938 (still hunting for an exact date). In a 1982 upgrade to the building, they painted over the mural and took down the antique posters that had lined the interior halls.
Cat
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To this day, the Olympic Auditorium retains a mystique on the West Coast that is unparalleled when the history of throwing leather is discussed. Erection of the 60,000 square foot athletic stadium and convention hall, said to have a capacity of 15,300, began in 1925 on a 6-acre lot at the corner of Eighteenth Street and South Grand Avenue in downtown Los Angeles. Gilbert Stanley Underwood, architect of the stunning Ahwahnee Lodge in Yosemite National Park designed the space in an Italian Renaissance style, as a boxing arena and convention center. It was named in anticipation of the Olympic Games which would be held there in 1932. Its construction was initially bankrolled by L.A. millionaire oil men and real estate moguls at an estimated cost of over $350,000.
Jack Dempsey, who had just returned from a hospital stay on the East Coast sporting a newly constructed nose, was there as the cornerstone was laid. He climbed onto a huge steam shovel to break ground for the project on January 10, 1925 to commence the building project. It was built to completion in six months and was shockingly over budget at a final cost of $1,000,000. But when its doors were thrown open on August 5th, 1925, the spectators who thronged to the Grand Opening and filled every seat, declared it a modern marvel. It was said to be the largest and finest stadium for boxing in the world. It put the old Madison Square Garden to shame. Current and former fistic champions and major silent film superstars all made appearances. Movie cameras were there to grind away merrily as a record of the event. So many spotlights shot into the night sky that Batman would’ve shielded his eyes.
The Auditorium featured rows of ringside seats, cavernous ground level seating, and a wrap around upper balcony mezzanine, though general manager Jack Root claimed the venue “was erected with the idea of making every seat ringside.” The leather upholstered opera-style chairs were boasted to contain fifty-six springs and said to cost $65,000. It was the first stadium in the country to have running water at ringside. Red velour drapes adorned aisle entrances. Gigantic blow-fans and two enormous intakes exchanged the air in the cavernous space every eight minutes to keep the smell of cigarette smoke, beer and body sweat to a minimum.
Below ground was what some called “the Catacombs.” It was its own world of hope and angst. Within its subterranean depths, over the next eight decades which followed, warriors would celebrate their victories, while others would breathe their last breath. The ghosts and the glory of the past would come to permeate its atmosphere: a persistent presence that captivated with both possibility and caution. There was a rabbit warren of small rooms for athletes to warm up, to get final instructions, or to say a prayer. Their doors opened onto a labyrinth of concrete block hallways. As fighters began their jog toward the ring, the noise of the crowd grew in volume and echoed off the walls as they neared the main floor. It exploded to a cacophony as they emerged up the stairs from the bowels below, ran the gauntlet through the cheering, back slapping spectators, and stepped between the ropes to prepare for battle.
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As part of a chapter in my book I researched the origins of the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, CA. Thought I'd share what I discovered, as it's a fascinating time capsule of the months leading up to the Grand Opening in 1925.
Interesting side note: The mural of Jack Dempsey over the front entry was added some time after 1938 (still hunting for an exact date). In a 1982 upgrade to the building, they painted over the mural and took down the antique posters that had lined the interior halls.
Cat
---------------------------------------
To this day, the Olympic Auditorium retains a mystique on the West Coast that is unparalleled when the history of throwing leather is discussed. Erection of the 60,000 square foot athletic stadium and convention hall, said to have a capacity of 15,300, began in 1925 on a 6-acre lot at the corner of Eighteenth Street and South Grand Avenue in downtown Los Angeles. Gilbert Stanley Underwood, architect of the stunning Ahwahnee Lodge in Yosemite National Park designed the space in an Italian Renaissance style, as a boxing arena and convention center. It was named in anticipation of the Olympic Games which would be held there in 1932. Its construction was initially bankrolled by L.A. millionaire oil men and real estate moguls at an estimated cost of over $350,000.
Jack Dempsey, who had just returned from a hospital stay on the East Coast sporting a newly constructed nose, was there as the cornerstone was laid. He climbed onto a huge steam shovel to break ground for the project on January 10, 1925 to commence the building project. It was built to completion in six months and was shockingly over budget at a final cost of $1,000,000. But when its doors were thrown open on August 5th, 1925, the spectators who thronged to the Grand Opening and filled every seat, declared it a modern marvel. It was said to be the largest and finest stadium for boxing in the world. It put the old Madison Square Garden to shame. Current and former fistic champions and major silent film superstars all made appearances. Movie cameras were there to grind away merrily as a record of the event. So many spotlights shot into the night sky that Batman would’ve shielded his eyes.
The Auditorium featured rows of ringside seats, cavernous ground level seating, and a wrap around upper balcony mezzanine, though general manager Jack Root claimed the venue “was erected with the idea of making every seat ringside.” The leather upholstered opera-style chairs were boasted to contain fifty-six springs and said to cost $65,000. It was the first stadium in the country to have running water at ringside. Red velour drapes adorned aisle entrances. Gigantic blow-fans and two enormous intakes exchanged the air in the cavernous space every eight minutes to keep the smell of cigarette smoke, beer and body sweat to a minimum.
Below ground was what some called “the Catacombs.” It was its own world of hope and angst. Within its subterranean depths, over the next eight decades which followed, warriors would celebrate their victories, while others would breathe their last breath. The ghosts and the glory of the past would come to permeate its atmosphere: a persistent presence that captivated with both possibility and caution. There was a rabbit warren of small rooms for athletes to warm up, to get final instructions, or to say a prayer. Their doors opened onto a labyrinth of concrete block hallways. As fighters began their jog toward the ring, the noise of the crowd grew in volume and echoed off the walls as they neared the main floor. It exploded to a cacophony as they emerged up the stairs from the bowels below, ran the gauntlet through the cheering, back slapping spectators, and stepped between the ropes to prepare for battle.
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