“When I am in California,” Theodore Roosevelt said in 1905, “I am not in the West. I am west of the West.” Years later, the British painter and Los Angeles resident David Hockney would call Malibu “the edge of the Western world.” A place that had once been Native American and Mexican was now mostly talked about in whiter terms—in part because the City of Angels had been, for a while, very white, both Anglo-inclined and Anglo-worshipful, appearing to many eyes as a unipolar place that had languidly transitioned from dreamy Spanish colonialism to mighty American democracy, all tied to the evocation of “going West” that was the rally cry for so-called pioneers, i.e., making it as much a matter of fantasy as orienteering, to be claimed by any “Okies” or pensioners from Iowa. And there was no lack of examples of LA’s whites being disinclined to acknowledge nonwhites, any non-Euro-seeming.
In 1925, as recorded by William Alexander McClung in Landscapes of Desire: Anglo Mythologies of Los Angeles, the Allied Architects Association of Los Angeles endorsed a set of propositions stipulating “that the region is Mediterranean both ecologically and culturally; that its architecture and landscaping should perpetuate the ‘collective memory’ of Spain, Italy, and the south of France; that, however, the ‘seductive influence’ of those regions should merely influence, not dictate, architectural designs; that Southern California is a land of romance; but that its founding was ‘sordid,’ achieved not by Spanish aristocrats but by ‘Indians, half breeds, and negroes, conscripts and undesirables.’” Such whitewashing even had its own term, Spanish fantasy past, suggesting a land found west of the Mediterranean, not north of the equator or east of the Pacific. As Joan Didion wrote in “Notes from a Native Daughter,” “It is characteristic of Californians to speak grandly of the past as if it had simultaneously begun, tabula rasa, and reached a happy ending on the day the wagons started west.”