PENTHOUSESNew Construction?Not In The Cards. As Downtown contin-ues to exploid, no new construction is planned. Opportunities limited.

2012D O W N T O W N EDITION: ELLEVEN PH 5

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PENTHOUSE FIVE

2012 PENTHOUSES LA 2

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D I S H I N G D O W N T O W N “The argument was always the same.”

By Donna Huffaker Evans

ME: “THIS is not the suburbs!’’

HIM: “BABE, we live in Burbank.’’

ME: “BUT there’s a liquor store at the end of our block!’’

THIS ALONE, I reasoned, catapulted my residential status into the likes of our friends who lived in lofts Downtown. I liked the way they walked everywhere, rode the Metro to hit Hollywood and always mentioned a new restaurant, or pointed out how some ghastly bar just turned gastro pub fabulous.

IN rEALITy, it took me a good 40 minutes to hoof to a strip of bars or selection of non-chain eateries. I drove more than I walked, and as much as I tried to utilize

public transit, the closest red line stop required wheels or gobs of extra time.

BUT wHAT I envied most about our Down-town friends was their sense of community – the very thing the suburbs were sup-posed to provide. I met Mike and Kathryn’s friend from the Rowan once – once – and weeks later as I walked down Spring Street, this woman flailed her arms like she was signaling a plane. She was saying hi to me. I’d lived on the same street in Burbank for 10 years and the most my neighbors ever talked to me was when their kid kicked a soccer ball through my window.SO wE packed our stuff, sold our house and moved to the Arts District. We’ve been at Molino Street Lofts for one month and in that time the residents have hosted a cookout and asked me to join the social committee. We’ve gone out to dinner a few times with folks we just met. Several

dinners at several restaurants – all within walking distance.PEOPLE SMILE and say hello here. They hold the door for you. They apologize if their chair bumps you. It’s like the south without racism.LAST wEEk, on a Facebook group for the Arts District, residents chatted wildly about an adorable scraggly dog that looked to have been dumped out of a car. He appeared hungry and certainly skittish. Several residents caught him long enough to hand-feed him, but then he dashed away. Naturally they named him Dasher.BACk ANd forth the comments flew: who’d last seen him, where. Had he been given any water? Did anyone have a friend look-ing for a dog (it’s Downtown – someone is always looking to adopt a dog). One after another they strategized about how to capture the little guy and nurse him back to a healthy size. All for a dog no one knew.THAT’S A community – and a community I’m thrilled to call my home.

2012 PENTHOUSES LA 3

One of the first things you learn as a reporter is to be super nice to the court clerk. To all of the public servants actually, as they hold the keys to the kingdom. Or at least the file that you desperately need to peruse. While it’s easier to smile at someone already smiling, I rather like the challenge of penetrating a wall of grump.

I braced for a gaggle of grumps in Los Angeles city government.

In Burbank, the bureaucrats were smiling before I even approached the window. Odd, I thought, but maybe it was because the city government was a manageable size. In fact it was solely due to Burbank Fire Department’s rapid response time that I chose to stay in the Media City when my 93-year-old Grandma moved in with me. Grandma was awesome, unlike the thieving relatives who attempted to financially bleed her dry. Back in 2002, at the age of 31, very single and a full-time reporter for the Los Angeles Daily Journal, I found myself the caretaker for a nonagenarian in failing health.

So when the police raided the relatives’ house, and arrested them, that left the placement of my ever smiling

Grandma to me. I opted for my home rather than the old folks home. But because they’d taken such poor care of her – no exercise of any kind – her leg muscles atrophied to the point that she could not climb the eight steps into my building, let alone the 22 that led to my door.

There I am, explaining to Grandma that the relatives would be going to jail for what they were doing, all the while trying to figure out how to get her out of my 1994 Mustang and into the apartment. Then it hit me: The Burbank Fire Department. How many times had I heard my scanner, years earlier at the Burbank Leader, squawk, “Old woman, trouble breathing,’’ moments before the sirens roared to the victim’s rescue.

In true Mayberry fashion, I asked the BFD if they could carry Grandma into my apartment. Minutes later, an engine arrived with many, many handsome men who hoisted her out of the car and into a stretcher-type chair. Surrounded by six hard-armed firefighters, Grandma blurts, “See, Donna, I can get a man. I can get six of them.’’

Every other encounter I had with a Burbank official after

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D O W N T O W N D I S H I N GSo the Residents are Welcoming -- What about the Bureaucrats? By Donna Huffaker Evans

that was equally pleasant. And while I’ve had drinks in the backyard of Burbank Mayor Dave Golonski’s house, I don’t expect to toast Antonio any time soon.

Customer Service SurpriseHowever I also didn’t expect calling Los Angeles Councilman Jose Huizar’s office would be as pleasant. Sure the residents of Downtown Los Angeles have been warm and welcoming, but what about the bureaucrats?

All of our furniture and worldly possessions had been stored in a POD for several months. Delivering the POD to unload it promised to be tricky, as my loft doesn’t have a driveway, merely a loading zone that I crossed my fingers would be available at 7 a.m. on that Saturday. The real problem, though, was the warning from the PODS people: “If we get a ticket for being parked on the street too long, you pay for it.’’

Well how long was too long?

I could’ve researched it, but I wanted to check out the customer service of my new city’s seemingly bloated

bureaucracy. So I called the District 14 council office. I explained the issue and furrowed my brow when the gent on the other end asked for my number so someone could get back to me. My first big city blow off. Awesome.

I hadn’t finished typing the text to my husband, slamming the sloths of Los Angeles government, when the phone rang.

“Hello, Mrs. Evans? This is [so-and-so] from Councilman Huizar’s office. First of all, welcome. I understand you have some concerns about your POD?’’

Speechless.

The official went on to explain as long as it was picked up in a day or so, there would be no problem. Then he told me to have a nice day.

Day? It’s going to be a nice Downtown life.

D O W N T O W N D I S H I N GSo the Residents are Welcoming -- What about the Bureaucrats? By Donna Huffaker Evans

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Urban living has been officially rethought. And this is it. Thirteen vibrant stories full of life, energy and style. A residence that defines and inspires. Living spaces that beg you to step inside. A city that calls

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Elleven is the first of three residential buildings planned at 11th and Grand, a block that lies in the heart of the thriving South Park neighborhood, in downtown Los Angeles.

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Where there's energy and life.

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All of this is price-competitive with conventional building techniques. So it doesn't cost you any more. It just requires a bit more effort and thinking on our part.

Where an entire city is your backyard. On a map, Elleven is located at 11th and Grand, in the South Park neighborhood of downtown Los Angeles. But where it's really located is at the epicenter of an urban revival.

In case you haven't heard, downtown L.A. is being reborn, revived, redeveloped, re-everything. With some of the world's greatest cultural centers, businesses, arts, and dining, L.A. rivals any metropolis.

And Elleven's location puts you steps away from all the downtown has to offer. Work centers and offices, shopping, restaurants, museums, entertainment and cultural icons like MOCA and the Disney Concert Hall. And that's just the beginning.