Hollywood Forever Cemetery

Listen for a moment. Behind the traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard there is another sound — a long, strange cry, almost like a cat. That is a peacock. Several of them walk these lawns, between palm trees and marble angels. The grass is soft underfoot, the air smells of cut flowers and warm stone, and the light comes down clean and white. This is a cemetery, yes. But it does not feel like one you have visited before.

You are standing in Hollywood Forever, one of the oldest cemeteries in Los Angeles. It opened in 1899 as Hollywood Cemetery, when this part of the city was still farmland and orchards. Hollywood did not yet mean movies. Within two decades, that changed completely. The film industry arrived, the studios grew up around these walls, and the people who made the movies began to be buried here. The cemetery and the industry grew up side by side.

Look toward the back wall, to the south. Just beyond it is Paramount Pictures. The studio lot sits right against the cemetery, and over the years the studio expanded onto land that once belonged to these grounds. On a clear day, you can see studio buildings above the wall. Turn north, and you may spot the Hollywood sign on the hills. Few places put the whole story of this city in one view like this — the dream factory, the sign, and the graves of the people who built both.

By the late twentieth century, the story here had turned sad. The cemetery fell into serious neglect. Grass dried out, buildings decayed, and families complained about the condition of the graves. Then, in 1998, new owners bought the property out of bankruptcy and gave it a new name: Hollywood Forever. They restored the grounds and did something unusual. They invited the living back in — with concerts, film screenings, and community celebrations among the graves.

That idea is the surprise most visitors miss. On summer evenings, people spread blankets on the lawn here and watch classic films projected onto the wall of a mausoleum. The screenings are run by a group called Cinespia, and they have become a Los Angeles tradition. Picnics, wine, a crowd laughing at an old comedy, and all around them, the headstones. In many cultures that would feel disrespectful. Here, it feels like a celebration of the people who made those films.

Every autumn, the cemetery also hosts one of the largest Day of the Dead celebrations in the city. Day of the Dead is a Mexican tradition that welcomes the spirits of loved ones home with altars, marigolds, candles and food. Families build elaborate altars across the grounds. There is music, dancing, and painted skull faces everywhere. For a city with deep Mexican roots, this event connects the cemetery to the neighbourhood around it, not only to Hollywood fame.

Now let us walk among the names. Inside the Cathedral Mausoleum lies Rudolph Valentino, the great romantic star of silent film. He died suddenly in 1926, still young, and his death caused scenes of mass grief. Legend has it that a mysterious woman dressed in black began visiting his crypt each year on the anniversary of his death, leaving a red rose. Over the decades, several women have claimed the role. Whether the first one was real or a publicity idea, nobody can say for certain.

Outside, look for a long reflecting pool framed by greenery. This is the memorial to Douglas Fairbanks, the swashbuckling star of silent adventure films, and his son, also an actor. The design is formal and calm, with a classical tomb at one end and water at the centre. The lawn in front of it is the same lawn where the summer film crowds gather. So when people watch movies here, they sit in front of one of the first great action heroes of the screen.

Not every grave here is solemn. Look for the headstone of Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny and many other cartoon characters. His stone carries the words, "That's all folks." Nearby in spirit, the punk rock band the Ramones has a strong presence. A bronze statue of guitarist Johnny Ramone shows him playing his guitar. Dee Dee Ramone's headstone carries a short farewell line taken from his own words. Fans leave guitar picks, notes and flowers.

The cemetery also holds harder chapters of history. The actress Hattie McDaniel, the first African American to win an Academy Award, wanted to be buried here. When she died in 1952, she was refused because of racial segregation. In 1999, the new owners placed a memorial to her beside the lake. It does not erase the injustice, but it marks it honestly. Stop there for a moment. It is one of the most important stones on the grounds.

Speaking of the lake — walk toward it and look at the small island in the middle. A white classical tomb stands there, surrounded by water. It belongs to the family of William Andrews Clark Junior, who founded the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Swans and ducks sometimes drift past. Elsewhere, in the Beth Olam mausoleum, the Jewish section of the cemetery, you will find the crypt of Benjamin Siegel, the gangster known as Bugsy. Hollywood royalty and underworld figures rest within a short walk of each other.

Newer names continue to arrive. In 2017, the remains of Judy Garland, star of The Wizard of Oz, were moved here from New York, and a memorial pavilion now carries her name. The same year, the rock singer Chris Cornell was buried here too. Even the director Cecil B. DeMille, famous for huge biblical epics, rests on these grounds. Walk slowly. Many of the most interesting names are on small flat plaques in the grass, easy to step past.

As you walk, notice the mix of styles. There are Egyptian-style tombs, Greek temples in miniature, modern granite slabs, and simple markers set flat into the lawn. Some newer graves carry photographs or even video screens, part of the owners' idea of telling each life as a story. The palms rise straight and tall, and their long shadows cross the paths in the afternoon. The whole place feels like a garden, a museum and a neighbourhood park at once.

Before you leave, stand still for a minute. Listen again for the peacocks, and for the traffic just beyond the gates. Look at the studio wall, then at the names on the stones near your feet. Many of these people spent their lives making stories for strangers. Now strangers walk among them, read their names aloud, and remember. As you head back toward the boulevard, look down at the plaques in the grass. Someone you once watched on a screen may be closer than you think.