The Rescue of the Sleeping Ones

The sad case of Hollywood Memorial Cemetery just got sadder. It appears that no one wants to own the most glamorous, star-studded, spooky cemetery in all of Los Angeles.

Other efforts having failed, the bankruptcy trustee in charge of the cemetery will hold an auction this week to try to find someone, anyone, who will buy it.

If the auction fails--a likely scenario--the trustee will then have the right to lock the cemetery gates and walk away. Hollywood Memorial will become an abandoned property.

Criminy. This is the cemetery where the Lady in Black used to come and leave a single flower at the crypt of Rudolph Valentino. Where Tyrone Power and Cecil B. DeMille pass the ages over by the lily pond.

Where Douglas Fairbanks does The Long Goodbye in his private sunken garden. Where Charlie Chaplin, Edward G. Robinson, Jesse Lasky, Marion Davies, Paul Muni, Harry Cohn and Jayne Mansfield all take their rest.

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The truth is, no other cemetery on the face of the earth has as many dead movie stars as Hollywood Memorial. No other cemetery comes close.

And the place also has soul, if you know what I mean. It’s very old. A forest of tombstones covers its hills and dales. Back in one corner there’s a spot that was reserved for Confederate soldiers.

Even its history has its charms. The founders were none other than I.N. Van Nuys and J.B. Lankershim, two of the original robber barons of the Valley who wanted a suitable resting place for the gentry.

The location they picked--the corner of Gower Street and Santa Monica Boulevard--puts it smack in the middle of the old Hollywood studios. You could throw a rock from Paramount and it would land in Hollywood Memorial.

Today, of course, the place looks as decrepit as Dracula’s castle. Plaster falls from mausoleum ceilings. Wind whistles through broken windows.

That’s because, several years ago, the company that owned the cemetery somehow misplaced the funds intended for maintenance. Soon after, the company itself went bankrupt. Broken windows stayed broken. Roofs started to leak rain onto caskets.

And that’s where we stand today. The trustee has tried for months to find a new owner, but no one seems to want a beat-up cemetery no matter how many movie stars lie underfoot.

From a business standpoint, see, a cemetery depends on unsold plots. If you have sufficient plots to sell, you can afford to pay for upkeep on the rest of the place. Without the plots, you’re a goner.

And Hollywood Memorial apparently doesn’t have the plots. There’s several thousand unsold spaces, all right, but they are far from primo. A dozen cemetery companies have sniffed around Hollywood Memorial and then walked away.

But wait! Hope is not lost. Even if this week’s auction fails, a core of supporters is rallying around the cemetery. City Council member Jackie Goldberg, for one, vows to save it from the padlocks.

“We will not let it go,” says Goldberg. “Too many people who are part of Hollywood’s history are buried there. It’s a fabulous place.”

Here, here. Already a move is afoot to get the cemetery placed on the National Register of Historic Places. And some cemetery supporters have suggested that the industry itself may be persuaded to bail out the Sleeping Ones at Hollywood Memorial.

After all, it was They who created Hollywood, right? I mean, you can stand in the cemetery and see the back lots of Paramount churning out product. The connection is strong, visceral.

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Loren Gubler, chief executive of the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, also points out that Hollywood Memorial functions as a powerful magnet to tourists. Thousands come each year.

Many problems remain, however. Goldberg concedes she does not know where the money will be found. And exploitation of the tourist appeal is difficult because state law forbids cemeteries to charge admission.

But what other cemetery would attract the likes of Bob Coffey, a retired film projectionist who drives to Hollywood Memorial each day and parks his red Nissan near Valentino’s mausoleum.

Coffey acts as the unofficial greeter at the mausoleum. He will take you on a tour, offer you cemetery lore, all for free. He simply loves the cemetery and comes because it makes him feel good.

The other day he was explaining to me how he had moved some sprinklers to make sure the grass around Tyrone Power’s plot stayed green. It just seemed better that way.

Then he looked at me sheepishly. “If the cemetery bosses knew I was here, they’d probably throw me out,” he said.

I doubt it, Bob. It looks to me like they need you more than you need them.