This series explores the Life, Death, and Rebirth of the 6th Street Bridge:

The city of Los Angeles is a dynamic beast. This city, albeit young, has created a paradigm where everything is up for re-defining whenever necessary. It is in a constant state of flux, the past can be erased on a whim, and ideas emerge as physical entities within the urban fabric. This is at the heart of what Los Angeles inherently is- a place where anyone can become anything, and as such, our built environment echoes everything that we are.

 

It was literally born out of the Los Angeles River, as it was the only of the downtown bridges that was built with aggregate that was mined on site. This in theory was its downfall- as the reaction that river rocks had with the concrete had caused the concrete to weaken beyond repair. Others claim that the bridge was maimed by city officials-  that in the name of “progress” they ended up selling the past to the highest bidder, all in the name of new, and along with it, lucrative building contracts.

It stood nearly eighty years, beckoning people through its steel arches to the promise of a better life in Los Angeles. The 6th Street Bridge was an icon of brilliant, classy, art deco design- a physical manifestation of everything that Los Angeles was aspiring to be during the days leading up to the Great Depression.

 

As it aged, it became a magnet for neglect- and was often seen as a connector to the slums. Even though it because a fixture of the environment, it morphed into something utilitarian, something solely meant to be used and consumed for the sake of transportation. Sometimes it was maintained, as evidenced by the layer upon layer of slathered on paint of varying shades of beigey-grey that aimed to mitigate the interjections of those that sought to subvert the plainness with graffiti.

But the built environment is one of the ultimate reflections of the human experience and life itself, and the 6th Street Bridge is no exception. It was conceived with the most iconic intentions, and was brought down in the name of progress. It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t so ironic.

 

-m