Underground LA… And We Didn’t Die

Most cities around the world have underground tunnels… Los Angeles is no exception. Apart from the modern day LA Metro underground lines, there’s another eleven miles of underground tunnels beneath downtown Los Angeles. One of the most infamous runs under King Eddy Saloon on Skid Row and was used to transport booze during prohibition… mainly through the Mayor’s office. Over the years, these tunnels have been used to transport large loads of cash between government buildings and banks; to transport high profile criminals from the County Jail to The Hall of Justice. Mobsters and coroners have used these tunnels to store bodies. Hollywood has used them to film various movies and television shows.

The easy-to-miss elevator

Was this something I need to see? Yes… yes, it was. Particularly after reading the directions to the most common entrance: Find the easy-to-miss elevator behind the Hall of Records and go down. That sounded too “Harry Potter” not to pursue! But, if I was going to venture into subterranean LA, I wasn’t going alone. My dear friend, Cooper, was first on my list… primarily because when I brought it up, her initial reaction was “Oh, hell yeah we need to do that!” Then we started thinking it through… and that basically turned into “100 Ways to Die Under LA”. Trapped in a earthquake, lost or murdered seemed the most likely. Should we take some sort of weapon? Neither of us are gun owners. I suggested pepper spray which Cooper quickly pointed out that that was a horrible idea in an enclosed space like a tunnel. Duh! She suggested a large stick like a baseball bat but we needed something more inconspicuous. A taser seemed the best choice. After batting the idea around for a few weeks we decided that we couldn’t not at least try to find the elevator and see what happens from there. It’s just an elevator, right?

The Hall of Records is located in downtown LA; in front of City Hall and diagonally across the street from the LA Times building. Downtown LA is a far removed from more touristy areas like Hollywood, Beverly Hills or the coastal communities. Downtown is gritty… all business. Whether hustling on the street, going to and from a legit job or paying one of those inevitable City of LA parking tickets, if you’re downtown you have a reason to be there. There is no glitz or glamour one often associates with Los Angeles. We were doing our best to “blend in” as we lurked around outside in the heart of Los Angeles City Government buildings… with a high police presence. That’s when “Arrest” was added to our possible outcome list. Technically, the tunnels aren’t open to the public. But according to the obscure sign we found, it didn’t seem that illegal. And that’s when Officer Sanchez approached us. He greeted us and asked if we needed help with directions. Cooper pointed at me and says “No, she’s visiting from out of town and wanted to see Downtown.” He told us to have a nice day and went on his way… we went back to lurking in search of the elevator. But we noticed he was keeping an eye on us.

We were just about to give up when I mustered the courage approach Officer Sanchez and it like this:

Me: “So, let me ask you something and if it’s not ok just tell me and I’ll go away and we can pretend none of this happened but according to the sign it doesn’t seem to be not ok.”

Sanchez: “Ok?”

Me: “How do we find the tunnels?”

Sanchez: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Oh, c’mon… of course you do!”

Sanchez: “No really I don’t. People ask me that all the time. I’d tell you if I knew.”

Me: “Really?”

Sanchez: “Really.”

About that time, an older black gentleman sitting on a bench nearby speaks up: “You girls wanna see the tunnels?”

Me: “Why, yes sir, we do!”

Him: “Come with me.”

Cooper and I looked at each other with that “I guess we’re doing this” look and, with no objection from Officer Sanchez, followed him to the elevator. A few other people stepped on the elevator with us which was puzzling since our only option was “down”… underground. But they looked like they knew where they were going and there’s safety in numbers, right? Our random tour guide pressed the proper button for our subterranean “floor” and down we went.

The elevator doors opened and we were led up a short escalator. So, we went down and then up and that’s as much as I’m going to disclose because half the adventure is actually finding your way. The escalator dumped us out into a huge, well lit tunnel large enough to drive a small utility truck through. Our guide led us forward about 50 yards to a fork in the tunnel. He points straight ahead and says “You can only go so far that way before you run into an ID checkpoint.” Pointing down the other tunnel, he says “You’re not supposed to go that way but there really nothing to stop you. You girls have a nice day.” He set out in the direction he had last indicated and disappeared out of sight.

Cooper and I continued forward about 75 yards through the well lit passage trying to decide if we were going to take the tunnel less traveled. We figured we’d come this far. We found the elevator and then we found the tunnels. This is what we came for… let’s do this! We backtracked to the fork and headed down the smaller, more dimly lit tunnel with the agreement that if either of us, at any point, felt in danger or just too creeped out we would immediately turn back.

Like Alice down the rabbit hole, we entered a different world… one not often seen by tourists or Angelenos. The first 50 yards or so wasn’t all that spooky. On the left, there was on offshoot that seemed to lead to entrance to more government offices. There was evidence that this area was commonly used… trash bins, handcarts, a random desk chair, orange safety cones. We could turn around and see from where we came. Just past that the tunnel began to curve. Not sharp ninety degree angles like you would expect in a hallway, but more like curves you find on a highway following the topography of the earth. The unknown lurked around every curve we approached. In my mind that translated into a murderous clown or those scary twins from The Shining. Once we rounded that first curve it became unnervingly clear that we were essentially “cut off” from the world above ground. Not only did we not have cell phone service, we realized that no one knew where we were. There were only two directions we could go… backward or forward. We weren’t willing to go back.

Tension rose as we moved forward. “Are you ok?” “Yeah, are you?” “Yeah” “No one knows were down here.” “Nope. Not a soul.” “We should have bought that taser gun.” “Probably.” “What if the power goes out?” “I’ll just curl up in a ball on the floor and cry until it comes back on.” “What about an earthquake?” “Oh, we’ll most definitely die.” “And no one knows we’re down here?” “Again, nope.” Copper and I have an odd way of comforting each other. That’s about the time we came upon a giant hole in the wall. Maybe it was a giant air shaft? But the smudged black pattern on the bottom surface indicated that something had slid repeatedly down into the tunnel from somewhere above. Trash seemed unlikely since we were so isolated. We hadn’t seen another human being for a good thirty minutes. It seemed perfectly logical that this is where they dump the bodies. In this environment, even the most illogical seemed logical. The farther we walked, the more surreal things became. “Disorienting” as Cooper describes it. No sense of time of day. Directional markers lost all meaning… there was no North, South, East or West. Still only two options… backward or forward. We moved forward.

Subtle, uncanny changes in the tunnel began to occur… imperceptible changes. With the insidious nature of a fog bank, the atmosphere began to close in on us. The floor began to sloped downward. The walls began to narrow. The ceiling lowered. Our heart rates rose. “Are you ok?” “Yeah, I think so. Are you?” “Check back with me in a minute.” Breathe… just remember to breathe. Ba bump – ba bump – ba bump… my ears filled with the sound of my own heartbeat. Sound was distorted. Was it overpowering white noise or the absence of sound all together? The sound of something (water maybe) traveling through the pipes above our heads was amplified… or was that in our heads? Still, we moved forward.

That’s when we saw “the cage”. Perfectly normal trash debris that wouldn’t have warranted a second look above ground became the stuff of nightmares. And what was behind that second gate back there? Was it to keep people from getting in or to keep something more nefarious from getting out? Was something moving back there? “I think we just stepped into a scene from Saw.” “Why, yes…. yes we did.” “Is this how we’re going to die?” “Probably.” Ba bump – ba bump – ba bump… 

With the floor sloping down, we journeyed deeper into the earth. It gradually became warmer as the air around us thickened. Sweat pricked our skin; breathing became a concentrated task. My amygdala was screaming at me to flee as there was nothing to fight… other than the fear rising in my chest. How much further were we going to go? Was there an end point to this madness? Distance had no point of reference. Our best guesstimate was that we were close to a mile from our starting point. We moved forward.

Approximately 100 yards past “the cage”, the tunnel came to a dead end. Now we had three options. Left, right or back. Left looked impassable… a thick wooden door that could have easily been the mouth of Hell. The niggling thought of an earthquake seemed very real as we considered going left… Nope. To the right we could see a set of large double doors. What was beyond those doors? We may never know since we finally chose to turn around. The oppressive heat playing largely into our decision.

The decision to turn around did very little to calm our nerves. Now our only option was to retrace our steps. But had anyone followed us? Were we walking of arms of a madman?  If we were, then let’s just get it over with. Our pace quickened… Passing “the cage” this time, we didn’t stop to linger. Nor did we at the body dump shoot. Unconsciously, we knew we had pushed our luck to the edge. We started chatting about “above ground” topics to take our minds off having to round each curve again to the unknown. “We should have lunch if we make it out alive.” “I could eat.” “We really should go see the Bradbury Building on Broadway while we’re down here.” “It would be a shame not to.”

We experienced extraordinary relief when we rounded that last curve and saw our original starting point. Even more so when we reached that point and looked right. We literally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “Go into the light, Carole Anne!” Should we go back the way we came… down the escalator and up the elevator or do we go toward the light? It had been two hours since we’d seen daylight or breathed fresh air. And there was a person who, from this distance, didn’t look like a serial killer. Although, neither did Ted Bundy. We made a beeline towards daylight. This was the direction that our accidental tour guide had indicated we would be stopped at an ID checkpoint. That didn’t deter us. The urgent need for sunlight was more powerful. “Let’s just pretend we’re supposed to be here.” “Or act stupid and beg forgiveness if we get caught.”

Reaching the end of our escape tunnel, there was indeed a security checkpoint to our immediate right. We avoided eye contact with the security guard that we pretended not to see, made a quick left and scurried into a parking garage. Parking garages in LA are frustrating labyrinths in their own right. We meandered our way to ground level… emerging “top side” diagonally across the street on the north side of the block from the easy-to-miss elevator. And we didn’t die.

*Special thanks to Cooper for being willing to engage in craziness like this. And also for helping relive the experience while I was writing this. As she correctly pointed out, it’s a hard story to tell to someone that wasn’t there. It was so incredibly surreal that it comes in flashbacks like snapshots rather than fluid memories.