If a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing right. The always proper Oliver Hardy might say the same thing about the task at hand, right before completely botching it.
A similar impulse led me back to the Music Box Steps in L.A. Those are the famous stairs that are the setting of one of Laurel and Hardy’s most beloved films, “The Music Box.”
Less than two weeks earlier, I had done the 2-mile loop from the urban walking guide “Secret Stairs” that includes the famous stairs, with author Charles Fleming, and his dog, Biscuit, at my side.
That culminated my hike through the 42 walks in his book. If I were at the “Rocky” steps, I’d raise my arms and pump my fists in triumph. (I have taken those stairs, by the way.)
And yet, because Fleming and I were walking and talking, I realized later while reading his text about the walk that I’d missed some of the sights. One was the very first: an air raid siren. Where was it?
Also, it had been a few years since I’d watched 1932’s “The Music Box,” and I was overdue.
So what the heck. One evening last week I popped in the DVD to see it again. You can find the movie on YouTube too.
Tasked with delivering a player piano, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy stop their horse-drawn wagon on a quiet street and ask a postman where to find the address.
Pointing to a nearly barren hill with a daunting set of stairs rising up its face from the curb, the postman says, “That’s the house up there, right on top of the stoop.”
Hardy repeats the directions matter-of-factly to Laurel, as if this were going to be a breeze.
Stan and Ollie gamely attempt to lug the crate up the hillside stairs. Due to various mishaps along the way, they also chase after the crate as it slides back down to street level.
As a fan, I sought out the stairs in 2007. My subsequent column mentioned that Ray Bradbury had set two stories on the steps: “The Laurel and Hardy Love Affair” and “Another Fine Mess.”
The day of publication, Bradbury, my favorite author since childhood, phoned me at my desk to tell me he’d enjoyed my column. “I love those stairs. They’ve been a big part of my life,” Bradbury said.
Suddenly the stairs were a big part of my life too.
Saturday morning, I drove to the L.A. neighborhood of Silver Lake to do the walk all over again, but this time with my “Secret Stairs” book in hand.
I had returned, as it were, to the scene of the climb.
But first, coffee from Cafe Tropical, the coffeehouse that Fleming uses as the walk’s starting point. The young woman behind the counter remembered me from two other recent visits, gave me a punch card and punched it three times to catch me up. I’m halfway to a free coffee, albeit 35 miles from home.
Thus fortified, I headed down Parkman Avenue, looking for the air raid siren Fleming mentions. I didn’t see it. I turned around. It was right in front of me, blending in like a light pole. It’s also directly opposite the coffeehouse, which means this was at least the third time I’d passed it in recent weeks.
This wasn’t doing much for my reputation as a trained observer. The siren, by the way, is paces away from a Dodgers mural of Joe Kelly. Maybe he’s pouting in it because he didn’t see the siren either.
Other sights in the book were seen: the deconsecrated church that’s now a residence, a tiled fountain in a front yard, a collection of garden tchotchkes facing you through a fenced back yard as you descend one set of steps.
If you’d like to do the walk yourself without springing for the book, Fleming graciously offers three walks for free on his secretstairs-la.com website, including this one.
Soon I was rounding a corner onto Vendome Street, which brought me to the Music Box Steps. They’re at 923 Vendome St., a block south of Sunset Boulevard.
Like most things in life, they’re slightly disappointing when compared to the movie.
The hill is now covered with small rental houses or apartments. In 1932, most of the hill was exposed and the stairs stood out more. Even “The Music Box” was a change from a 1925 cameo in the comedy “Isn’t Life Terrible?,” which captures a time when the hill was almost bare, with no buildings at street level.
Now nestled between buildings on both sides, these do seem like secret stairs. In fact, a comparison with “The Music Box” seems to indicate the stairs were later narrowed, rendering them even more unassuming.
Still, the scene is reminiscent of the movie. The house on the right side at street level, with its tile-roofed garage, is the same. And a view down the stairs, when matched with a scene from the movie, shows the bulb of the street median ends in the same place as it did 80 years ago.
There’s now a city street sign at the base and top to identify them as the Music Box Steps, and a plaque is set into one of the lower steps. A nice touch, but sadly, it’s scratched and worn.
The stairs, Fleming notes in his book, are “often littered with debris, and very ill maintained for such a landmark.” Respect the stairs, people!
But the steps are cleaner now. A fence is going up on a long stretch of the left side, and perhaps the contractors are keeping things tidy. Or it might be that the volunteers of Fleming’s Silver Lake Litter League are making the difference.
At 133 steps, the Music Box Steps are not the tallest stairs in L.A., but they’re no slouch. That said, with handrails, an improvement from Laurel and Hardy’s day, and 10 landings to give you a breather — and a place to rest your piano — they’re a pleasant climb.
The route encompasses four other staircases, as well as a second visit to the Music Box Steps, this time a descent. If Joni Mitchell were doing the walk, she might say, “I’ve looked at stairs from both sides now.”
Back at my starting point, I reflected on a walk well done, a task completed to the original specifications. And before leaving, I cast a fond backward glance at the air raid siren. It was good to see it again.
David Allen steps it up Friday, Sunday and Wednesday. Email dallen@scng.com, phone 909-483-9339, like davidallencolumnist on Facebook and follow @davidallen909 on Twitter.