downtown

At Clifton’s in downtown Los Angeles, a Halloween wedding is taking place, a courtship between a woman and a demon lord. Modantus is his name, his head a skull, with brassy adornments ascending like a satellite dish. He doesn’t talk so much as click, growl and grunt as if clinging to life.

Before dinner is served, a masked man approaches people in the crowd — half in costumes, half in formalwear — in Clifton’s second-story ballroom, once a swing dancing haven. He’s in a vested suit, his mask, a sort of triangular sundial, reflecting light off of the candles at a head table.

“I’m collecting fears,” the man says, as a singer nearby performs a Gothic rendition of Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun.” Nightmare creatures from the netherworld feast on the worries of mere mortals, he explains, and so he invites guests to unload some of their own.

Clifton’s, the famed institution that dates to 1935, once a Depression-era oasis designed to look like a woodsy, Northern California lodge, has quietly started operating again after years of post-pandemic fits and starts. Its new operators, Neil Biondich and Alex McCullough, are ramping up events to activate the myriad spaces inside the building, all five stories of forest-themed kitschy wonder. That means magic shows in a mystical basement, karaoke in a lavish tiki bar, and live immersive theater parties in the main room, like its Halloween weekend event “The Dark Weekend.”

And for those who miss Clifton’s as a casual hangout space, their vision also includes two restaurants, the first of which they hope can come online in early 2027.

Their dream — a grand one — is to turn the space into an immersive entertainment venue, one where a live action role playing game (LARP) is running daily. Clifton’s, with its collection of oddities, be it a taxidermied bear or a bartop meteorite, is just the sort of fantastical place, they reason, to house a never-ending “Dungeons & Dragons”-inspired game.

“We’re not looking to radically change what this place looks and feels like,” says Biondich, an entrepreneur who has worked in 3D animation and directed commercials. “It should feel just like coming to Clifton’s. There just happens to be some decor that takes you deeper into an urban fantasy.”

Except, for now, maybe don’t call it Clifton’s.

Here’s where the story becomes more complicated. Biondich and McCullough do not have access to the Clifton’s name. They’re attempting to rebrand the building as Sanctuary, and running all events and ticketing via Sanctuarydtla.com. If one goes to the official Clifton’s site or social media pages, it will tell you programming at the space is paused.

Prior owner Andrew Meieran recently sold the building to real estate investment firm Robhana Group. Meieran, however, retained the name Clifton’s and its intellectual property (IP). He hasn’t ruled out reviving the brand elsewhere someday.

He bought downtown’s Broadway location in 2010 and invested more than $14 million in renovating it, including building out its heavily detailed tiki bar, complete with a vintage speedboat. Meieran has been outspoken about the challenges of running a large nightlife business downtown but held onto the brand, he says, because Clifton’s is a rarity, a unique only-in-California business.

“It’s not a restaurant,” Meieran says. “It’s not a bar. It’s not a theme park. It’s sort of in between all these things. It’s hard for both an operator and a guest, in terms of appealing to everybody. It wants to be the cafeteria for the people who want the cafeteria. It wants to be an immersive nightlife destination for the people who want that. It also wants to be a tourist destination and a place for families.”

Both Biondich and Meieran are careful when speaking about the other party, and hesitant to do so on the record. The relationship, it’s safe to say, is challenged. Both want to see Clifton’s revived but have yet to come to an agreement. After initially declining to comment on the talks, Meieran later emailed a statement.

“Clifton’s has never been just a building — it’s a concept that’s endured more than ninety years of upheaval: the Depression, a world war, riots, a pandemic, and a city whose people and tastes have changed many times over,” he wrote. “We’re working with the building’s owners to put a foundation in place that allows Clifton’s to thrive for another ninety years, bringing Clifton’s special brand of magic to Broadway for generations to come.”

Biondich is, for now, moving forward with the Sanctuary name, even developing an app that will bring augmented reality monsters to the venue. He describes his vision for the LARP as something between “Dungeons & Dragons” and “Pokémon Go.”

“We’ll eventually have glasses where you can see people in neighboring dimensions,” Biondich says. “We call it a dimensional tuner. You can look at higher frequencies and see if there’s any fae spirits around, or down-tune it and see if there’s any undead spirits or demons around.” Once the game launches, those who play it will receive rewards, such as discounted food or drinks.

It’s a welcome moment for Clifton’s to reemerge. Downtown has struggled since the end of the pandemic, with many workers not returning to its plethora of office space and a significant number of business abandoning the neighborhood, jeopardizing what was once a robust community. There are some smattering signs of life right now, however. Cole’s, for instance, is set to reopen in the coming weeks, and there’ve been rumblings that the Original Pantry will also soon return.

“Everybody who works and lives down here loves downtown,” Biondich says, “and they’re doing everything they can to bring it back and make it a more palatable place for people to come and enjoy. I really enjoy the passion of people who live downtown. It’s infectious.”

Biondich envisions a day when the building now known as Clifton’s operates as a restaurant in the day and early evening, then “wakes up” at night with actors in monster garb in its core bar spaces. Long term, he is planning a late-2027 opening of a second, more upscale restaurant in the venue. He intends for the comedy, magic and karaoke events to continue.

Biondich wants people to speak of Sanctuary in the same way they would talk of other noteworthy immersive venues. He cites art collective-turned-experiential firm Meow Wolf as an inspiration, only Sanctuary would have a more linear narrative that would emphasize game-inspired socializing.

“Our goal is to make this an international destination,” Biondich says. “If you’re going to Los Angeles, you’re going to check out Clifton’s for Sanctuary, in a similar way one would go to a Meow Wolf.”

But he’s also trying to walk a line, to assure longtime fans of the space, as well downtown residents, that Clifton’s will still primarily cater to them. He’s hired a chef, he says, and Clifton’s serves a limited menu — a burger, fish tacos — on days it’s open. While many of the early events, such as a “Dungeons & Dragons” social club or a “Super Smash Bros.” tournament, have courted the geek community, Biondich, a Northridge resident, says once the lower-level restaurant is open, it will honor the Clifton’s legacy.

That means that yes, there will be a Jell-O dish.

“L.A. is a city of conflicting realities,” says gallerist Jeni Abramson, and she likes it that way. Evolving directly from Don’t Look Projects — the residency and project space Abramson ran alongside Omar Yousif from 2024 through early 2026 — her eponymous gallery establishes a rigorous, intellectually charged platform dedicated to contemporary photography, multimedia and conceptual art. “I’m drawn to artists whose work examines how political, economic and technological systems operate through images, whether that’s an artist working with archives, surveillance, AI, or the accumulated weight of decades spent looking at the world through a lens,” she says. “My own formation, moving between very different political and economic systems, shapes how I read that work.”

The gallery inaugurated this vision with “Remains of the Day,” presenting more than 50 years of work by Michel Auder — capturing unvarnished, intimate fragments of Andy Warhol’s Factory, his marriages to Viva and Cindy Sherman, and decades of well-chronicled and timelessly sensual bohemian life — organized with support from Hamza Walker, Abramson’s neighbor at the nearby kunsthalle the Brick, and an exceptionally talented archive-wrangler.

The gallery’s November-December presentation is “Meat Ghost,” a solo exhibition of new work by research-based multidisciplinary artist Jen Liu.

Shaped by coming of age in post-Soviet Eastern Europe, where underground electronic music offered a vital bridge between fractured systems, Abramson approaches visual culture with a sharp, systems-aware lens. That critical framework finds a natural home in Los Angeles, particularly when it comes to the city’s complex legacy of CalArts conceptualism, the entertainment industry’s image machinery and the city’s enduring subterranean countercultures. Operating outside the speculative frenzy of the ultra-high-end marketplace, Abramson says, “The collectors I work with don’t approach art as an asset class. They collect for deeply personal reasons.”

The Hotel Clark has been throwing its stately shadow across Hill Street since 1914, first as a fancy lodging in the formative years of downtown Los Angeles, then as a last-resort residential hotel for the aged and desperate, then as a vast, lifeless structure between Grand Central Market and Pershing Square (now Biddy Mason Park). The 11-story hotel hadn’t seen a paying guest for more than 30 years.

That is, until now.

Last month, downtown historian Nathan Marsak was at Angels Flight when, as he recalls, “A guy comes up and says, ‘You like the Clark? I just had drinks there.’ And he slaps his receipt down. And I lost my damn mind.”

Marsak, who admits to “a fetish for old, lost Los Angeles,” once called the Beaux-Arts hotel a “great gray monument to grinding attrition.” Since the 1990s, Marsak has kept watch on the Clark, often labeled a “zombie building” because of its long idleness. Marsak included it in his 2002 book “Los Angeles Neon,” and has looked down upon it from his part-time gig taking tickets atop the Angels Flight Railway on Bunker Hill.

In the downtown community, there had been rumors of a reopening over the years, but that seemed less likely as time went on. Kim Cooper, a close observer of downtown politics and co-owner of Esotouric tours, said that after a while, it seemed that the hotel’s owner, the Chetrit Group, “just locked the door.”

To see that structure “so dilapidated and dirty and covered in bird droppings and decades of grime, it broke my heart,” Marsak said. Still, “as long as they didn’t tear it down, there was always hope.”

A ‘zombie building’ awakes

When he and relatives bought the hotel 27 years ago, owner Michel Attias of the Chetrit Group said people assumed they would flip the building.

“I guess they know by now that’s not the case,” he said. “Many of those people have left town by now.”

Attias stood in the hotel lobby, whose design leans toward gray, black, white, earth tones and chrome. Guest rooms include zebra-print wallpaper and faux alligator-skin panels.

“We wanted chic modern but also comfortable and warm,” said Attias, noting that new artworks and rugs are still arriving. A “luxury sports bar” is due to open by Super Bowl Sunday. As of Oct. 21, general manager Adrienne Craig said, about 120 of its guest rooms were ready to rent, with others soon to follow. Rates start at about $200 nightly.

There have been at least three near-openings during his firm’s ownership, Attias acknowledged. But now, he said, it’s the right moment.

“We have a lot coming,” he said. “We have the Olympics. Downtown is starting to move again. I’m very, very confident that downtown is going to get back on its feet.”

Members of the Chetrit family, based in New York, hold extensive real estate through multiple companies, some of which have suffered legal and financial troubles in the last two years. In Los Angeles, the Chetrit Group also owns the long-idle Trinity Auditorium, also known as the Embassy Auditorium and Embassy Hotel. Also a 1914 Beaux-Arts building, it includes about 180 guest rooms along with an 1,800-seat performance space. Attias said he hopes to open the Trinity Auditorium before the Olympics.

“We’re not done,” Attias said.

Added Craig: “Hotel Clark is amazing. Trinity is out of this world.”

The Clark’s rise, fall and long slumber

Look closely at the Clark, including the rooftop neon and the old fire escapes with the initials “CH” in ironwork (for Clark Hotel), and you may catch hints of its tangled history, from early opulence to urban decay, international intrigue and municipal dysfunction.

Eli P. Clark made big money as a railway pioneer in Los Angeles and beyond. But by 1914 he had moved on to other investments. He built the Clark Hotel with 555 rooms, each with a private bath (a notable luxury at the time) and a bold sign outside proclaiming its “absolutely fireproof” construction.

The building’s rooftop neon signage was apparently added a few decades later, along with the rounded letters that spell the hotel’s name and run vertically down one corner of the building. Dozens of vintage photos of the Clark’s ballrooms, restaurants, ashtrays, room keys, menus, postcards, matchbooks, coat hangers and candleholders are visible at BunkerHillLos Angeles.com, having been gathered by Marsak.

But somewhere in the middle decades of the 20th century, as investors began to look away from downtown, the Clark hit the skids. In a 1975 classified ad in the L.A. Times, the Clark offered rooms at $75-$95 monthly, including “special waterbed suites.”

By the 1980s, the Clark had become a residence of last resort, housing many seniors and others on limited incomes. The nearby Rosslyn (built in 1914, now a mix of low-income and market-rate apartments) and Hotel Cecil (built 1924, now low-income and supportive housing) followed similar paths.

By 1989, the Clark had been acquired by May Wah International Enterprises, which was rooted in China and associated with the Chinese government, Attias said. May Wah vowed to revamp the building with a “friendship store” to market Chinese imports and hotel above that might rival the Biltmore. But first May Wah wanted the old tenants out. Twenty of them filed suit against May Wah, saying they were subjected to spells without heat or water, and won a $1.7-million settlement. But by 1992, May Wah had succeeded in evicting the last two tenants.

By 1999, when May Wah sold it to the Chetrit family, the building was empty, its historic interiors rearranged in anticipation of the Chinese hotel that never opened. (During this period, Attias said, the building’s guest-room count changed from 555 to 348.) As Attias tells the story, the hotel was close to opening in 2008 when that year’s financial crisis hit. It came close again in 2013-14, when the Chetrit family invested in another renovation but ran into opposition from the hospitality workers union Unite Here Local 11 and L.A. City Councilman José Huizar.

“José Huizar,” said Attias dryly. “We know where he is now.” (Huizar, who served on the city council until 2020, pleaded guilty to corruption charges in 2023 and was sentenced to 13 years in federal prison.)

Though the hotel’s owners eventually got the city permissions they needed, Attias said, a partnership with other hoteliers dissolved and the Clark went to the back burner again, as did the Embassy Auditorium. Another near-opening followed in 2019.

Attias said the family decided in 2025 to finally open the Clark, later retaining OTH Hotels Resorts to manage it.

And now, said Attias, “we’re here.”

‘Nowhere to go but up’

In mid-September, the Clark had begun a quiet, soft reopening. Now configured with 348 guest rooms, it includes a Mediterranean restaurant called Votana; a cocktail lounge; a 17-by-29-foot courtyard pool, poolside bar and (in homage to Chetrit family history) a pair of Moroccan tile fountains.

In addition, a ballroom with space for 600 is due to be completed soon. Craig estimated that the business, a nonunion shop, employs about 100 people now and will likely reach 200 workers in coming months.

This rebirth may not comfort those seeking more affordable housing downtown, but for anyone eager to see more legal commerce on Hill Street or more hotel rooms in the run-up to the 2028 Games, it’s progress. This boost in room supply may also encourage travelers who have seen downtown hotel rates jump by more than 10% in the last year. Analytics company CoStar reports that downtown hotels averaged $200-$210 per night from June through September.

“There’s nowhere to go but up,” Craig said. “The possibilities here are endless.”

A few weeks ago, Craig’s team gave Marsak a tour of building (and bought a batch of Angels Flight tickets to distribute among guests. The historian declared himself mostly delighted.

“Having the Clark open, facing Hill Street — which can get rough — is so brave of them,” said Marsak. “I can’t applaud it enough.”

As for the inside and that zebra-print wallpaper, it’s “not what I would have done,” he said. “I believe that Beaux-Arts buildings should be Beaux-Arts inside and out. But you can’t have everything.”