February 15, 2001

February 1, 2001. Los Angeles. Angels Flight was the scene of an horrific mishap that claimed the life of Holocaust survivor Leon Praport. Leon's wife, Lola, remains hospitalized in guarded condition. Angels Flight is an historic icon that has captured L.A.'s imagination, providing a bridge to the gap between those blessed with material comfort and recent immigrants struggling to achieve the dream—the promise of the City of Angels.

As Patt Morrison wrote in the Los Angeles Times on the day following the recent, tragic accident: "[Angels Flight] has not wholly breached the moat, but it has gone some way to mend the rupture between the city's center and the people who forsook it—as well as those who never believed it existed in the first place."

Our new outreach organization, Bridging The Gap, is helping to create an event with the City of Los Angeles to bring us all together, united in pain and determination, to mourn the passing of Leon Praport and rebuild Angels Flight.

How?

On March 15, at Angels Flight, at noon, symphonic and folk musicians, reflecting varying faiths and ethnicities, will perform David Woodard's composition, "An Elegy For Two Angels". Members of the African-American, Hispanic, Asian-American, Anglo-American and Jewish communities will release, at the same time, helium-filled balloons printed with colors reflecting their own backgrounds, floating up to the sky, together.

Bridging The Gap's goal is to restore faith in Angels Flight—and, by extension, this incredible experiment in diversity known as Los Angeles.

Keep the Faith,

Cherryl Wilson
Adam Parfrey

 

 

March 16, 2001

I had hoped to salve, through this musical composition, the cruel Balkanization that characterizes life for most residents in the city of Los Angeles. By drawing diverse musical cultures together in a single elegiac work—at first in bold argument, then in dialogue, and ultimately in tutti, and centering its performance at accommodating locations surrounding the richly metaphorical, unfairly beleaguered Angels Flight funicular, I proposed to tie the ropes together between the diverse peoples struggling on the flatlands, in the vivid Broadway shops and pungeant food markets, who through the years have only become browner and poorer, and the people on the hilltop, only becoming whiter and richer. At least in the imaginations of our hybrid listenership, the task at hand was accomplished.

A perhaps basic characteristic of my music finds its origin here: pomp co-mingled with doleful awareness of the vanity of Earthly things. From California Plaza to the grassy knoll to the trolley landing to Grand Central Market, attendees at Angels Flight, on the Ides of March, 2001, found ostentation, deceit, misery and the transitoriness of the world—disharmonies I endeavored to bathe and resolve in the harmony of transcendental hope.

"An Elegy For Two Angels" was as much intended for Mr. and Mrs. Praport, the octogenarian Old Bridge, New Jersey couple whose spirited vacation to City of the Angels yielded an ultimate angel's flight, as it was for Sinai and Olivet, the quaintly named cars comprising Angels Flight—which, in the words of Los Angeles Times' Patt Morrison, "bridges the city's history." The elegy lives, exposing class division as the vilest crime against human dignity—a defeated, deformed, defanged monster awaiting deportation to the distant dark smoke of angel history.

Kp Fth,

DW