So It’s Come To This:
An Obituary Of The HoHo (1160 N Vermont Ave)
by Matt Brousseau
The Hollywood Hotel is dead, I’m told. Well, standup is dead there. Well, I mean there’s no more standup there. It’s a shame. It was hardly perfect, sure, except for PUI’s when it became a great goddam mess of messed up comics. (Imagine being on mollie in a room full of friends. I don’t have to imagine. You can). Yes, often the room was sparse and you’d eat some shit. Yes, voices at the bar often overshadowed the comic. But three to four nights a week you could do five to seven minutes and hang out with some friends. And, somehow, probably because we spend of a lot of time thinking about ourselves, we’ve all had our own, singular, individual experience there even though we all did same activities. It was a great place to do comedy and drugs and make friends. Odds of the last two improved every time you did the first.
I could walk there. It was my local comedy bar. To others, perhaps, it was a place of death. But that’s fitting. The old Hotel was originally built as a mirage. All that remains is the name, “The Hollywood Hotel,” and still it tricks far off travellers. We know now it’s clearly not THE Hollywood Hotel, but more of A Hotel Adjacent To Transit To Hollywood. At its birth, however, this mattered little.Read More