18th & Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story will have a series of screenings around Southern California during the second week of March.
March 8: Laemmle Royal
11523 Santa Monica Blvd 1st floor, Los Angeles, CA 90025
7:30 PM Film + Q&A: Boxing
Special Guests: Jimmy Lennon Jr., Frankie Duarte, Sam Watson, Gene Aguilera, Stephen DeBro
March 9: Laemmle Noho7
5240 Lankershim Blvd, North Hollywood, CA 91601
7:30 PM Film + Q&A: Roller Derby
Special Guests: Honey Sanchez, Larry Lewis, Danny Wolf, Stephen DeBro
March 10: Laemmle Playhouse 7
673 E Colorado Blvd, Pasadena, CA 91101
7:30 PM Film + Q&A: Wrestling
Special Guests: Mando Guerrero, Rock Rims, Stephen DeBro
The Olympic was an exhilarating palace of challenge, victory and loss. Charles Bukowski in Goodbye Watson from his 1982 book Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness, published by City Lights Books, chronicled the environmental graphic of The Olympic. “Even the Hollywood (Legion Stadium) boys knew the action was at the Olympic. George Raft came, and the others, and all the starlets, hugging those front row seats. The gallery boys went ape and the fighters fought like fighters and the place was blue with cigar smoke.” Author and boxing authority Gene Aguilera, a frequent visitor to the Olympic, calls the venue “a theater of the violent.”
As our world examines and touts blood sports this century, there was a time where a building in downtown Los Angeles was a place of competition, crime, mayhem, madness, sadness and conquest.
Today it now houses the Korean-American Glory Church of Jesus Christ.
Luckily for us, filmmaker DeBro and his team have done a terrific job of forensic work, which has yielded rare and unseen photos, footage, coupled with an inviting musical soundtrack of urban reality, enhancing memories of interview subjects both inspiring and perspiring. Which we can now revisit watching and absorbing the delightful 18th & Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story.
Steve DeBro is a native of Los Angeles. He was born in August 1965 while sections of Los Angeles were on fire from the Watts uprising and raised in Southern California. He attended Walter Reed Junior High School, graduated North Hollywood High School, transferred to Valley Junior College and graduating UCLA with a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science, while taking a lot of film history classes.
As a youth and teen, DeBro spent a lot of time in front of the television watching roller derby, wrestling, and boxing from the Olympic Auditorium. He memorized the phone number by heart: Richmond 9-5171.
Augmenting and reinforcing 18th & Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story is a stellar soundtrack culled from DeBro’s stints and experiences at Aron’s Record Shop in Los Angeles and later working at Tower Records on Sunset Blvd. He then was employed at Verve/Mercury Records as a talent scout, and eventually held a job at Nonesuch Records which lead to a multi-year position at Atlantic Records under chairman Ahmet Ertegun.
Harvey Kubernik and Stephen DeBro Interview
Q: You had a retail stint at the legendary Aron’s Record Shop on Melrose Ave. in Los Angeles, now in the West Hollywood region. Tell me about working there. I know your father was an avid jazz fan, growing up in Inglewood.
A: Music was my salvation—it resonated with me in a way that nothing else did. My dad was a jazz and blues nut and amateur photographer—we spent a lot of time in record stores and jazz and blues clubs when I was a kid. He grew up in black neighborhoods and really felt comfortable taking me and my sister on his adventures throughout the city. We’d go to the Watts Festival, to Verbum Dei High School to see Clifton Chenier, saw Art Pepper, Chet Baker, Sarah Vaughan, and often would meet the musicians afterwards.
My first job was at McDonalds making $3.35 an hour, working on the grill. I had grease burns on my arms and smelled like onions and hamburgers. Fortunately, I applied for a job at Aron’s Records, and got a job there when I was 16 years old. It was such an amazing place—the characters behind the counter were all experts in their particular areas of interest—be it classical, jazz, African music, Reggae, punk rock, whatever. An incredible education. The customers were wild too-there was a crowd who would rush the door when the store opened at 10AM. After that I worked at Tower Sunset, which was also insane: our customers included Elton John, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. I met Prince, Bruce Springsteen, David Lee Roth, so many others. Rick James and Linda Blair would roll in, high as a kite, and make out in the cassette section. Quite a way to “learn the business.”
Q: How do you think a decade job at a monumental record label like Atlantic prepared you for this undertaking? And, naturally you were well aware of how music or a soundtrack works in collaboration with the images on screen.
I also had to harness a team, to work with different people with unique skills and personalities and try to draw the best out of them. Film is a collaborative art, and with the kind of budget that I had for the documentary—which in the beginning was nothing--I had to convince others to commit their time and talent to my dream, which I learned at Atlantic.
Regarding soundtracks, I did put out several soundtracks when I was at Atlantic. Barry Levinson’s Liberty Heights, which I had little to do with other than release and market it, but he’s a master at marrying film and music. I also put together a soundtrack for an Edward James Olmos project called Americanos: Latino Life in the United States, which was a bit of a rush job but I’m quite proud of.
Q: Before you embarked on this terrific Olympic Auditorium documentary, were you a fan or viewer of music documentaries over the decades? What were a few of the music documentaries or non-music driven documentaries that really impressed you and might have helped inform your venture?
A: I’m a big fan of documentaries, though not specifically music docs. I just love good filmmaking and storytelling. I’m amazed by, for different reasons: The Act of Killing, 20 Feet from Stardom, Decline of Western Civilization, and The Wrecking Crew, to name a few. Each director faces a series of difficult editorial, stylistic and financial choices, and the films I mentioned all have a distinct point of view, illuminate important and/or neglected stories and subjects, and draw viewers into worlds they weren’t sure they’d care about. Those were some of the goals I had with 18th and Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story, and I absorbed bits of these and many other documentaries in completing the film.
Q: Did you have any filmmaking background before you even decided to start this Olympic Auditorium journey? Were you a fan of Los Angeles-based movies and television shows?
A: As for filmmaking experience, very little. I had documented some of the musical artists I’d worked with, but nothing approaching this scale. When I started the interview process, at first it was to create an oral history of a disappearing culture, and it became clear that it would make a great documentary, so it just grew and grew.
Regarding Los Angeles movies and TV shows, yes, I’m obsessed with L.A. history and have many L.A. films and TV series that I love. I’m steeped in film noir, so of course Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity, Chinatown are some of my favorites. The Rockford Files was my favorite TV series as a kid—it’s still great to watch and see the L.A. of my childhood.
Q: When did the genesis of this movie actually begin? I know the movie production began 8 years ago and I believe you were just old enough to catch some of the wrestling and boxing events from the Olympic on local Los Angeles television, and later well aware of the punk shows that were booked there.
The genesis of the project goes back well over a decade—closer to fifteen years. David Davis, a sportswriter and friend of my wife introduced me the photos of Theo Ehret, house photographer of the Olympic, and I was smitten. The images reawakened childhood memories spent in front of the TV, only Ehret’s images have a power that gives the action an almost mythic quality. I was well aware of the hardcore shows, which came along when I was souring on the punk scene. Davis was pitching a book of Theo’s boxing and wrestling images to publishers, and I thought it could be more. He and I started working together to develop the project, then we brought in another cohort, and things went sour. After a lot of interruptions and frustrations, I was able to gain control over the project, complete the documentary, and continue developing the other elements of this ambitious media and cultural history project.
Q: When was the moment you REALLY knew you had an undocumented world that had such commercial appeal while also reinforcing the ring talent of wrestlers and boxers who later became more famous?
A: Once the interviews began, the stories unspooled and deepened. The Olympic was more than a star making vehicle, it triggered memories and responses visceral and emotional. You could see in the look in the eyes of just about everyone we interviewed—whether it was Dick Enberg, who got his start at the Olympic and became a hall of fame announcer, or Frankie Duarte, a boxer who had success but never became a champion—that the Olympic held great meaning and still resonated, decades later.
Q: Did you initially envision almost a Greek Chorus-like view of boxing, wrestling, Roller Derby and punk rock as the four main elements that are the epicenter of your movie?
A: Yes. Boxing, wrestling, roller derby and punk were the pillars. I felt that this mosaic of unique voices was a strength and would be much more exciting than an omniscient narrator. The Olympic was a place of visceral excitement, larger-than-life characters, “fake” and real violence, and while it’s important history, it’s also quite fantastic, and the dynamism of the voices give it personality and texture. This was spectacle, and to treat it like The Civil War would be folly.
Q: After viewing 18th & Grand, I was keenly aware you constructed a bio-regional love letter to Los Angeles around all the diverse characters in the ring, former venue principals, spectators and witnesses involved in this compelling movie.
A: I’m glad you noticed. It is my love letter to L.A., a messy city that is hard to chronicle in all its complexity. The Olympic became a fulcrum for me to tell my version of L.A. and its contradictions—its brutality and beauty, theatricality and harsh reality, dream maker and heartbreaker. The juxtaposition of these fantastically disparate and unique voices fighting for their place in a vast metropolis are what make the film, and the city, special. To me, the Olympic story is a perfect distillation of L.A., especially now as it sits, ugly and forgotten by the side of the freeway while the new and shiny arenas get the attention.
Q: Author and boxing historian Gene Aguliera, an advisor on your film has described the Olympic building as “a theater of the violent.” Very true, there are elements of violence at a boxing match and wrestling exhibition and Roller Derby. Your movie makes no attempt of hiding or diminishing the decades of violence masked by a sports event or booking. I think what is captured could only happened in Los Angeles but now has worldwide appeal.
A: Violence as contest/spectator sport has always existed. I make no judgement whether that is good or bad. There were hundreds of arenas like the Olympic Auditorium throughout the world in the 20th Century. The difference was that the Olympic was in Los Angeles, the center of film and television production, and Aileen Eaton was adept in maximizing that advantage. More than Madison Square Garden, the Olympic defined what theatricalized violence was supposed to look like to a worldwide audience. My belief was that by telling this authentic L.A. story, it would resonate beyond the region, as L.A. influences world culture.
Q: Did you have an outline or storyboard when you began production?
A: There was no formal storyboard when production began, but I did have a written treatment, and the final film was closely reflective of the original vision. The story edit was the challenge, because we had fifty long interviews and so many compelling stories and characters to cull through.
Q: Were interview topics outlined for each participant? You were at the tapings and very hands-on in these sessions. How were the subjects chosen?
A: I personally wrote all the questions for all the interviews. I had done my research and had an agenda about what I was hoping to get from each subject. Most of the time it worked. Furthermore, I wanted to make sure that we were covering not just for the film, but to get each person’s story, because the opportunity may never come again. Just so we’re clear, this is an oral history project, with a documentary at the center. We are actively working to use all of these interviews and archival materials in different ways. More documentaries, more short subjects, exhibitions and so on. We’re far from done.
Q: Aileen Eaton the Olympic promoter is the epicenter of the challenge, and various boxers, wrestlers, Roller Derby veterans and Gary Tovar, the Golden Voice promoter who knew his shows were a logical extension of the mayhem and authentic madness the Olympic had created previously. When PIL played there Johnny Lydon said "This is the first third-rate audience we've ever played to."
A: In the history of the Olympic, only one promoter managed to sustain success over the long haul. And that was Aileen Eaton. It was her will, flexibility, creativity, vision. Gary is a similar visionary, though he had a much shorter run, he understood and played upon the Olympic’s history. He created Goldenvoice, and although he didn’t create the monster that is Coachella, the DNA of the company is his.
Q: Was it early in the frame game that you knew your “star” was Aileen Eaton?
A: Aileen was clearly a star, so much so that many advised me to make the documentary a bio doc on her. I resisted. As important as she was, it would have been disrespectful and wrong to not make this about the fighters, wrestlers, musicians, who shared their stories and risked life and limb in the ring and on stage. But Aileen had so much going on—this woman who dominated a man’s world but is largely forgotten today--that one just wants to know more about her.
Q: As I viewed your movie she became the spine of the action. Her husband Cal Eaton was out of the main event it seems fairly early in their marriage and the operation of the Olympic, and this bold women runs the roost in a world dominated by men, including low level mobsters and gamblers.
A: Yes, the edit was the puzzle. We had Aileen, the building, and the activities. So we made Aileen the spine of the film, which keeps the film from being just a series of vignettes. The trick was that she was much more involved in boxing than wrestling and roller derby, so that dictated some of the choices that we made. Cal was tough—after all, he was the “face” promoter until he died—it was his name on the promotion. But it was clear in our research that Cal was not the one in the trenches, making the decisions. He was a terrible alcoholic who spent most of his days at the golf course. So we made the editorial decision to focus on Aileen, the real power behind the Olympic promotion. She’s fantastically complicated and interesting. How much did she know about what was going on with Babe McCoy, the mob and the fixed fight scandal of the 1950s? Certainly more than she let on.
Q: Family is one theme explored on screen for us to witness. Her sons Gene and Mike La Bell are featured in the movie and it’s a no holds-barred expedition. No white wash job, either. Did you have concerns about portrayals? It seemed to me everyone you spoke with really wanted to tell a long overdue story. Many depicted on screen are not with us anymore but paint a remarkable scene of the sports events and weaving in Los Angeles from the mid-twenties to the mid-eighties.
A: The Eaton/LeBell family dynamic does get significant play in the film, because Gene LeBell is such an unforgettable character and the Olympic was a family business for nearly forty years. It’s actually much deeper than what we were able to portray. We spoke to many members of the family, and the portrait they paint isn’t pretty, particularly in regards to Mike and Cal.
Q: Were there times in production where it became evident that Los Angeles and the Olympic Auditorium are bonded together?
A: The deeper I dove in my research, the clearer it became that the story of the building was linked to the development of L.A. in the 20th Century. The elites were represented—they developed the building and patronized it--but it welcomed and catered to “regular” people, the people who built the city and who so often are left out of the L.A. story. It was a place where women, minorities and poor folks had a shot at fame and (occasionally) wealth, even if often it was fleeting and physically costly. By and large, the performers in the ring, on the banked track, and on stage at the Olympic were working class people from Los Angeles, or from Mexico. That’s why the Olympic story matters and reflects the Los Angeles I love.
Q: Hollywood the former movie-making capital of the world always recognized the Olympic for location shoots and boxing scenes in countless films. The Turning Point, Requiem for a Heavyweight, The Sting II, and in 2003, Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle.
A: Yes, from the beginning the Olympic was an extension of Hollywood’s back lot. So many great films were shot at the Olympic, starting with Buster Keaton’s Battling Butler, The Three Stooges Punch Drunks, The Manchurian Candidate, Raging Bull, the Rocky series, Million Dollar Baby, and hundreds of TV shows, music videos, and commercials. It defined what a boxing arena was supposed to look like for much of the world.
Q: Besides the physical building located in downtown Los Angeles. At times I felt you were an ambassador for Los Angeles and the Olympic was a tour stop on your travelogue but you decided to really take us deep into the venue’s relationship with the city.
A: L.A. is endlessly fascinating, and I’m always discovering more. Recently, Gene Aguilera and I were poking around Skid Row, where the Main Street Gym used to be, a part of the ecosystem of boxing that once existed throughout the city. The Olympic connected and mattered to so many neighborhoods. East L.A. has a great boxing tradition of fighters who fought at the Olympic, and quite a few roller derby skaters. Even Los Lobos played the Olympic, opening for Public Image Limited in 1980. The Lennon Family lived in Venice and Santa Monica. Jerry Quarry was from Bellflower. Mr. Olympic himself, Luis Magaña, as you know, lived in the Valley. I look at the Olympic project as a way to connect the city.
Q: We are treated to being introduced or re-introduced to so many fascinating characters in this movie. So many are telegenic and riveting to watch, either fighting or speaking.
A: Well, there are the professional mic-men, like Jimmy Lennon Jr. and Dick Enberg, who are so articulate and easy to edit. They hit their marks every time. Then you have a guy like Roddy Piper, who speaks brilliantly but elliptically. It sometimes took him time to get back to the question, but he always did. Carlos Palomino spoke from the heart and is so compelling. John Doe is exactly who you expect him to be. Mamie Van Doren can still take your breath away. Yes--an amazing cast of characters.
Q: Don Chargin the match maker who created the bills was a joy to see.
A: Don is the emotional core of the film. He’s just a good guy, and he loved Aileen and his years at the Olympic. He wanted this story told. I spoke with often, and I really miss him. When he was dying of brain cancer, I drove up to his home in Cambria to show him a rough cut of the film on my laptop, and he smiled through his pain. Unforgettable.
Q: You also had access to posters, fliers, some film and TV footage, which are in the public domain. How did you find and locate some of these images and visual artifacts?
A: The archival dig for this project has been one of the most exciting parts of the process. So many great photographers shot at the Olympic, and we were fortunate to locate thousands of still images to work with. Wherever possible, we scanned the original negatives, then each was painstakingly cleaned up in photoshop to remove dust and scratches. From the top, we started with the vast catalog of Theo Ehret, whose boxing and wrestling images started this wild quest. My old friend Dan Navarro’s father Hap was the boxing matchmaker at Hollywood Legion Stadium, and he owned a lot of incredible boxing negatives which he generously allowed us to use in the film. Gene Aguilera was similarly generous in granting us use of images, as were other family members and collectors. We also licensed photography and footage from Getty Images, Shutterstock, the LAPL, UCLA Film and Television Archives, and many others.
Q: Tell me about some of your stories regarding acquisition and licensing items?
A: Probably the most important images we found shook loose following a Los Angeles Times article written about the project while we were still in production. A man reached out to me via Facebook, telling me he was a sports photography collector and had acquired negatives of Aileen Eaton and the Olympic from the estate of a photographer, and asking me if I’d like to use them. Turns out it was rolls and rolls of film shot in the late 1960s for a feature story on Aileen and the Olympic. They really helped tell her story, and I really don’t know what we’d have done if those hadn’t surfaced.
Q: What a collection of underworld figures you identified and paraded. Real hoods and mobsters and racket bosses frequented the Olympic. The frantic energy and reality of Los Angeles post 1932 Olympics to the mid-eighties is evident. A location-dependent world that is colorful yet dangerous and perfect for today’s film and TV climate.
A: Gangsters were always present at the Olympic, particularly for boxing. Mickey Cohen was around the Olympic his whole life. He grew up in Boyle Heights, sold candy there as a kid, fought Chalky Wright when he was a professional boxer, was close with disgraced Olympic boxing matchmaker Babe McCoy, and at the end of his life ran the gambler’s section at the fights. He’s just one of many.
Q: Your cinematic endeavor does a terrific service in showcasing and touting the involvement of the Mexican-American community of Los Angeles and the Olympic Auditorium. East Los Angeles as the pulse of a throbbing fist-a-cuff community that has always remained loyal to athletes who hailed from that part of Southern California. Did that develop in production or was it a red-lined topic you really wanted to examine?
A: To me, it was a no-brainer. A majority of Olympic Auditorium fans, and many of the boxers, wrestlers and skaters, were Mexican American or from Mexico. One couldn’t properly tell the story of the Olympic without making that clear and providing context. So I made sure that I involved credible Mexican American historians, fighters and fans to tell their story in their own words. I was fortunate to meet Gene Aguilera, who was very generous to me in terms of connecting me to the Mexican American boxing community. William Estrada, PhD and Chair of the History Department at the Natural History Museum, is in the film and has been an advisor to the project. We interviewed Hall of Fame boxers from Mexico, wrestlers, skaters. It was part of trying to achieve proper balance.
Q: What is displayed is organic diversity. Not identity or gender politics. And, a large majority of the boxers in the fifties and sixties were Mexican, Latino and white. But we are also treated to a well-balanced narrative of images and footage where it was a place where the poor and the wealthy, white, black, or movie star, were all comfortable in the confines of the Olympic.
A: To me that is a strength of the Olympic story, and of Los Angeles. The city is incredibly diverse, which doesn’t mean everyone gets along—in fact, the battles that took place in the ring at the Olympic often mirrored the battles among ethnic groups for their place in the city. The film allowed me to represent diversity because the Olympic was diverse: movie stars, gangsters, judges, construction workers, landscapers and white-collar businessmen were all part of the action. And the promoter was a Jewish woman who respected her paying customers by giving them a great show at a reasonable price, whoever they were.
Q: We are reminded of the seminal appearances of Cassius Clay before he became Muhammad Ali. We are brought into the era and aura of fighter Art Aragon. Tell us about Clay and Aragon. Both were nurtured by Los Angeles to some extent. Clay fought a few times at the Olympic.
A: Art Aragon was the Golden Boy before Oscar De La Hoya--a huge boxing star in 1950s Los Angeles. He played the heel, inflaming Mexican-American crowds by disavowing the fact he was of Mexican descent and embracing celebrity. He was handsome, quotable and became a tabloid staple, filling the Olympic with people who came to boo him. Clay/Ali also saw the power in being a villain—he loved wrestling and talks about Gorgeous George being an influence on him. Aileen had him watch Freddie Blassie’s wrestling interviews for ideas to rev up the heat. Ali was around the Olympic a lot—there are pictures of him with Elijah Muhammad at the Olympic shortly after he converted to Nation of Islam, and I have pictures of him in the late 1970s in the ring with Sammy Davis Jr. and Marvin Gaye. He and Aileen remained close until her death.
Q: Actress and author Mamie Van Doren was a great interview on screen. I can only imagine the outtakes…
A: Mamie is spectacular, and yes the outtakes are great. She was candid, funny, outrageous at times, but I felt that underneath it all, there is still a sweet South Dakota girl who has thrived and survived the Hollywood machine.
Q: I know it’s hard to pick a handful, but give me some anecdotes and background on some of the interview subjects. These memories you lensed go back 40-70 years. Was it hard for them to remember subject specific moments they were centrally involved with?
A: There are so many, but generally speaking people could speak in incredible detail about events that happened decades earlier. Bob Recendez, the nephew of Luis Magaña who passed away a few years ago from cancer, recalled eating sunflower seeds on the streetcar from Boyle Heights to the Olympic as a kid in the 1940s, and the long deep lines that wrapped around the corner of 18th and Grand when his hero Enrique Bolanos fought. Wrestler Mando Guerrero explained in detail how his father Gory Guerrero taught him the business, and the details of their cross-border wrestling promotion in Juarez and El Paso. The late Dick Beyer, aka The Destroyer, told us the story of a down-and-out Gorgeous George inviting him to his bar in the Valley, and begging him to convince the Olympic to book the once star, now has-been, to wrestle against him where he’d shave off his blond locks for a payday.
Q: And when wrestling started getting booked into the Olympic you had white stars and then so many diverse characters from Japan, Mexico, Los Angeles natives, and east coast grapplers who all went on to more fame going across the US and into New York and the east coast.
The Olympic’s wrestling history is as compelling and colorful as its boxing history, and as diverse. Before the Eaton promotion took over in the early 40s, a former circus strongman named Lou Daro was the promoter, and you had guys like Greek superstar Jim Londos and Hungarian Sander Szabo as featured attractions. Later, in the 1940s there was the Mexican American wrestling star Enrique Torres, then when television came along Gorgeous George, Baron Michele Leone, and Lord Blears. In the 1960s, Freddie Blassie, the Destroyer, and Rikidozan had huge matches at the Olympic and in Japan, and later in the 1960s Blassie’s epic feud with John Tolos was too big for the Olympic and had to be moved to the LA Coliseum. The last two great stars of the Eaton/LeBell era were Chavo Guerrero and Roddy Piper. After the Eaton era ended, there were a lot of Lucha Libre stars who wrestled at was then the Grand Olympic.
Q: I was pleased you incorporated Roller Games into your movie. Tell us about the sport. John Lennon during 1964-1966 Beatles concerts in Los Angeles used to watch Roller Derby. The TV announcer was Dick Lane.
A: I didn’t know that John Lennon was a roller derby fan! You’ll have to tell me more. Roller Derby is fascinating, having evolved from depression era activity to a contest with rules formalized by Damon Runyon. In L.A., it peaked in L.A. with the Thunderbirds, who basically saved the Olympic in the early 1960s when boxing was struggling. Talk about diverse—the main star, Ralphie Valladares was Guatemalan, manager John Hall was African-American, and it was very LGBTQ friendly. Dick Lane, the TV wrestling announcer for decades, became the announcer for roller derby and carried his credibility among wrestling fans to banked track derby. It was a lot of fun, and I love the characters I met.
Q: You have caught an era and a world before PC mentality and cancel culture. Looking back there were some racial overtones portrayed.
A: Wrestling in particular is built on stereotypes, racial and otherwise, and there were many things said and portrayed that don’t fly today, for good reason. But history needs to be viewed in the context of its time. Norms of behavior and speech evolve, and can shed light on what was happening in society.
Q: Just hearing wrestler Freddie Blassie say phrases he birthed like ‘pencil neck geek’ would get misinterpreted by today’s media and reporters. Or the staged antics of wrestlers and boxers hurling racial epithets, as well as the taunts from the crowd and patrons. This was real life in Los Angeles. The street outside was also documented inside the arena.
A: Sticking with wrestling, promoters exploit social anxieties to sell tickets, and a wrestler’s job is to arouse the emotions of the crowd to keep their jobs and fans coming back. Why did these tropes touch nerves? That’s the more interesting question, and it merits thoughtful discussion.
Q: As far as boxing, it became obvious to me you chose to portray the fighters as gladiators. They got paid but were fighting for a new life, let alone trying to put food on the table. And, Los Angeles and the nearby gyms where they trained were a breeding ground that fed the pipeline. Most of the sports and boxing reporting of the thirties-eighties have been pre-occupied with east coast media bias. Maybe early television played a part. If it was 8:00 PST it was already 11:00 EST when these matches were shown on local television and on occasion nationally. In some ways The Olympic didn’t get the coverage then away from Los Angeles. But now boxing, wrestling and punk rock is national and global. The Olympic is the blueprint of a world that now has worldwide influence and economic ramifications.
This is a hard question to answer, because capitalism and technology have changed the game since the Olympic was a thriving business. Sports entertainment has evolved from a regional model to an international corporate model. Wrestling was based around a regional territory system before Vince McMahon Jr. saw the potential to use cable TV to create an international product. As for boxing, Aileen had the Olympic, and focused on building fighters locally before positioning them for international titles. She depended on ticket sales, which often don’t matter anymore—the cable/streamers pay for the fights and live gate is a bonus. Roller Derby became something else altogether, smaller but vibrant and important for the participants. Punk rock was outsider, niche music, built in clubs and is still very much alive, nearly five decades later.
The Olympic may be gone, but the spirit lives on…
Q: A large part of the charm of this movie and the action is owed to your music supervisor Howard Paar. His film and music credits helped inform your vision.
A: Howard Paar is an old friend; we worked together at Mercury Records in the 1990s and reconnected when I moved back to L.A. I was thrilled when he agreed to become the music supervisor—because he has great taste, knows everyone, and was willing to take us on and leverage his relationships to make this possible. It’s amazing to think that we were able to get Queens of the Stone Age, War, Shuggie Otis, the Dead Kennedys, Cannibal and the Headhunters on an indie budget. But Howard made that happen. He also introduced me to Alberto Lopez of Jungle Fire, convinced that they would be great collaborators on the score, and as usual, he was right.
Q: Jungle Fire (Alberto Lopez) is an essential ingredient in your documentary. How did the relationship begin? And tell me about weaving in the music with the visuals.
A: Howard introduced me to Alberto, and we immediately hit it off. I was a little concerned at first, because the band’s sound is Afrobeat inspired, and I was thinking about more of a Chicano rock sound. But I quickly learned how versatile the band could be. When we needed 1940s bebop, they delivered a scorching authentic sound. When we needed them to cover ‘A Taste of Honey,’ they nailed it. And when we needed interstitial music, they gave me interesting, cool choices. They are a modern-day Wrecking Crew, and I can’t think of a higher compliment.
Q: Sound Mix is by Suat Onur Ayas. A stellar balance of loud and soft sounds around the chaos at the Olympic.
A: Our goal was to create an immersive experience with the sound mix, to put the audience into the swirl of a night at the Olympic. Shane, being a musician himself, did an initial rough mix and some of the sound design, and Suat needed to augment that and add his own talents and creativity. This was complicated by the fact that Covid hit and studios closed down, so it was a challenge to get it done, but Suat rose to the moment. I’m proud to say that we got a vibrant, dynamic, theatrical mix.
Q: You were able to license some very topical and appropriate musical recordings. Can you tell me reasons and logistics about selections that propel the action?
A: A note about the music. My general guideline was that I wanted for all of the artists included to either be from Los Angeles or have something to do with the Olympic. With a little wiggle-room, the tracks fit that criteria.
‘Feet Don't Fail Me’ (Queens of the Stone Age): This was a Shane choice. He wanted a rave up, energetic front titles track that set the tone for what was to follow. He started cutting and we went with it, not certain we’d be able to get it. Robert was able to get this directly to Josh Homme, who approved it.
‘Don't Let No One Get You Down’: (War)
I love War, and this is one of my favorite moments in the film. The justaposition of John Doe speaking about the decline of L.A. in 1970s, along with the cut, sets the tone.
‘Holiday in Cambodia.’: (Dead Kennedys)
The DK’s played the Olympic at least three times, and I wanted a punk track that was tuneful enough for the boxing and wrestling fans not to tune out.
‘Seven and Seven Is’: (The Weirdos)
A double dose of L.A.—a cover of one of my favorite L.A. bands (Love) by a unique L.A. punk band. This matches the punk rock energy of Roddy Piper and felt just right.
‘Do Your Thing’: (Charles Wright & The Watts 103rd St. Rhythm Band)
I love Charles Wright, and wanted a playful track with a groove to fit over the roller derby section, and this struck the right tone and sat in the pocket. Shane kills this.
‘Land of 1000 Dances’: (Cannibal & the Headhunters)
Classic East L.A. band, defines a sound and time and place, felt perfect over a montage of 1960s boxing images.
‘A Taste of Honey’” (Jungle Fire)
There is something so melancholy about this song, and again, it just helps signify a changing Los Angeles.
‘Strawberry Letter 23’: (Shuggie Otis)
I just knew that this was the perfect end-title track. I prefer this to the Brothers Johnson cover, and with the connection to his father Johnny Otis, who made such a mark in L.A. musical history, it made sense on multiple levels.
As well as new covers:
‘Taste of Honey’: (Jungle Fire)
‘Every time We Say Goodbye’: (Mayé)
Mayé is a new artist that Howard Paar recommended, and she did a great job on a classic song that goes over Aileen’s death.
Plus a new track: ‘Rosa Angelina’: (Quetzal)
Quetzal is a great L.A. band, this traditional Mexican song fits perfectly over the Enrique Bolanos section.
Q: When doing a project like this. Is there a period where you become obsessed or possessed? Is it challenge or a decision to keep going and let it happen and then worry about next steps like editing?
A: If you don’t stay obsessed and possessed, you can’t finish the job. It’s an everyday hustle, raising money, cajoling, finding opportunities. It’s a challenge and a sacrifice and I’m incredibly lucky that I have a loving and supportive wife. I never let up and am always thinking about next steps.
Q: Talk to me a little bit about the technical side of your movie. Cameras, film stock, and lighting when you conducted interviews.
A: The entire film was shot digitally in 4K. Our main camera was a Red Scarlet, our B-Cam was a Sony DSLR.
Q: And how about recording dialogue?
A: We used a lavalier and a boom mic.
Q: I imagine editing was a tough labor-intensive job. Was there a 3 hour version that you cut down for the current format? Do you even have a theory about editing? How did you work and collaborate with editor Shane McLafferty? Did you do some sort of rough cut and show to some friends and team members?
A: The process of editing the film evolved and improved as I learned what I was doing. Shane McLafferty is a virtuoso, a master at cutting to music, and in-demand. I’d get him in bursts when I could raise enough money, and we’d make progress. I’d then spend months with my assistant editor Mayre McAnulty on refining the story. We’d share it with our tight group: Producer Robert Benavides, Tony Peck, and sometimes a few others to get feedback, and then go back to the drawing board.
Q: How did you bring this down to a theatrical-length product? I know you will have hours for an eventual DVD. Are there some factors in editing where you can explain decisions on picture and length of scene?
A: It was hard and time consuming. It’s a very intricate cut, particularly with a film that is as fast moving, dense and music driven as 18th & Grand. There were pieces that we loved that had to go, because they bogged down the momentum. My rule was that if I was getting bored with something, the audience would for sure be getting bored. So we worked to streamline the narrative, keep it fun and moving, provide context, use the strengths of our interviews, and play to Shane’s strengths. The other materials that we did not use will go on a DVD, or be used in other projects.
Q: I’d like you to go into detail of your production team. The producers Robert Benavides, Tony Peck (also DP) and Mayre McAnulty (also assistant Editor). How did you meet them and discuss working with them.
A: I love my team, and couldn’t have done this without them.
Robert Benavides has great taste, an excellent eye and I’m grateful that he agreed to become a Producer shortly after we began filming. Robert grew up in Chicago, loves history and is a huge boxing fan, so this was a natural fit. He also produced a documentary that I admired a lot--Beats Rhymes and Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest, so I wanted someone with that experience on the team. He’s a great DP as well, so his versatility and judgement were vitally important.
Tony Peck was our main Director of Photography on the film. I came to Tony with this crazy idea, no money, but he believed in the film and in me, so it allowed us to get started. Often times, it was just me and Tony, traversing the country, conducting interviews. He’s a workhorse, completely steady, professional, and did an incredible job making our little film look like a million bucks.
Mayre McAnulty is one of the rare people who is both technically skilled and creatively talented. She could take apart a computer, do the insane licensing spreadsheets for a film with thousands of bits of media, and story edit. I couldn’t have finished the film without her. We’d sweat the story, cutting and honing and problem solving. She earned her way into a Producer position and deserves it.
Editor Shane McLafferty. Who appears much more than a sounding board or tape cutter.
Generally speaking, editing is tedious work. Shane is a different story. When he’s in a groove, watching him cut is a spectator sport. He’s a drummer, and I’m a singer, so there’s a special bond there, a chemistry. I’d often leave a session in awe. A good dude, and a superstar editor.
Q: Gene Aguilera. His fingerprints are obvious in this movie. An author of three books on boxing and a member of the Boxing Hall of Fame.
A: Meeting Gene Aguilera was a gift. I knew I needed someone to walk me through the boxing world, and Gene was invaluable. He opened doors, and advised me, and became a trusted friend. As you also know, he’s a music fiend and knows everyone in the East L.A. music scene, so he was also very helpful for our soundtrack.
Q: There is Associate Producer Karin Tracy
A: Other than Tony Peck, Karin is the longest tenured person on the project. She’s helped with marketing strategy, ran our Kickstarter campaign, and is a technical wizard. I’m lucky to have her on board.
Harvey Kubernik is the author of 20 books, including Hollywood Shack Job: Rock Music In Film and on Your Screen, Canyon Of Dreams: The Magic And The Music Of Laurel Canyon and Turn Up The Radio! Rock, Pop and Roll in Los Angeles 1956-1972.Sterling/Barnes and Noble in 2018 published Harvey and Kenneth Kubernik’s The Story Of The Band: From Big Pink To The Last Waltz. For November 2021 the duo wrote Jimi Hendrix: Voodoo Child for Sterling/Barnes and Noble.
Otherworld Cottage Industries in 2020 published Harvey’s book, Docs That Rock, Music That Matters, featuring interviews with D.A. Pennebaker, Chris Hegedus, Albert Maysles, Murray Lerner, Morgan Neville, Curtis Hanson, Michael Lindsay-Hogg, Andrew Loog Oldham, Dick Clark, Ray Manzarek, John Densmore, Robby Krieger, Allan Arkush, and David Leaf, among others.
Kubernik’s writings are in several book anthologies, most notably The Rolling Stone Book Of The Beats and Drinking With Bukowski. This century Harvey wrote the liner note booklets to the CD re-releases of Carole King’s Tapestry, Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, Elvis Presley The ’68 Comeback Special and The Ramones End of the Century).
During 2020 Harvey Kubernik served as a Consultant on the 2-part documentary Laurel Canyon: A Place in Time directed by Alison Ellwood. In 2022 he is involved with several music documentaries now in production.
