Tag Archives: Aimee Semple MacPherson

Aimee Semple MacPherson’s Parsonage at the Angelus Temple

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“A woman preaching is like a dog walking upon its hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.”

— Dr. Samuel Johnson

Above: Holograms demonstrate the innovative stagecraft that made Sister’s preaching famous, or notorious.

  • Everyone called Aimee Sister

In 1918, the famous evangelist unpacked her megaphone in Los Angeles and never left. She had such success here with Pentecostal revivals that, by 1924 she had built a revolutionary 5,000-seat megaphone-shaped (and radio broadcast-friendly) auditorium on the rim of Echo Park. It was the very beginning of the Golden Age of Radio, and her ministry would play a huge part in bringing listeners to the new medium; people actually bought radios to hear her evangel.

Already since 1922, while the massive Temple was a-building, Aimee had been living on the site in a swank early-Hollywood Regency Parsonage. She had architect E.F. Leicht (Culver Hotel, Pasadena Playhouse) finish her Parsonage first so that she and her manager-mother Minnie could have the home comforts while they built up their Church of the Foursquare Gospel. Aimee was as visionary and dreamy and involved, and as fussy and publicity-minded, about her private living space as her friends the movie stars were: she made sure her boudoir had THE view of the glistening fountain plashing in Echo Park Lake. As with the Temple, the house is “megaphone shaped” — the front makes a long graceful bow, a trope of “Regency” style.

  • The Byzantine dome, with paint made from crushed abalone shells.

Mrs. MacPherson took a lot of heat during her lifetime, and afterwards, for hypocrisy: that is, for preaching while personally “going Hollywood.” Much of the criticism can be chalked up to old-fashioned sexism; how dare this attractive woman, incidentally funny, vivacious, warm, sophisticated, and draped head-to-toe in clingy bias-cut-satin-sequin robes, proclaim the Gospel of Christ? She must be a harlot. Aimee didn’t have 5,000 seats, but the one she had was a honey. (Honi soit qui mal y pense, says the View.)

Aimee was a charismatic woman who acted like a woman during the 1930s, and that was threatening as well as titillating. But Aimee was no grifter and no hypocrite. The Foursquare Church fed hundreds of thousands of meals to Forgotten Men and Women, three times a day, all through the Depression, no questions asked. She preached a middle-of-the-road Methodist gospel, only love and joy and forgiveness, no brimstone. And she ministered equally to all races, although she was finally forced by the City to minister to the Black and Mexican (i.e., Communist) sinners in areas away from the white sinners in Echo Park. Aimee always had bands playing, and choirs singing. There were blankets available during the wet California winters. Few Americans during the Depression — in Hollywood, in the Church, or in government — organized ANYTHING remotely close to this scale, to actually help and encourage starving persons.

The Parsonage allows a self-guided tour, with many interesting exhibits. Aimee’s private personality and her enthusiastic public spirit are admirably presented. The Church is to be commended for preserving this important site for Los Angeles history.

  • The motto: res non verba, deeds not words.

Though they’ve lost their radio empire, the Foursquare Church is going strong at the restored Angelus Temple, with weekly services in the whole Pentecost of languages that make up the modern-day Metropolis of the Queen of the Angels.

https://www.kcet.org/shows/lost-la/los-angeles-in-buildings-the-angelus-temple

Click above for more on Mrs. MacPherson, and her importance to the social history of LA.



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The Crown Jewel of the Cahuenga Pass, the Hollywood Bowl is LA’s magical outdoor auditorium. Since 1920 people have gathered here, thousands at a time, to participate in thrilling and often deeply moving experiences. 

Its name comes from the natural topographical bowl west of Highland, a picnic area originally called Daisy Dell. Artistic torchbearers discovered in the late 19-teens this was a natural theater, with splendid acoustics. (Hikers or realtors can find similar acoustically-charged bowls hidden all along the Santa Monica Mountains.) These acoustics, combined with the easy new Red Car transit access along Highland Avenue, were thought by producers to be the perfect combination to showcase the massive religious pageants that were popular in the fevered days of Aimee Semple MacPherson. (”The Pilgrimage Play”, e.g.) But purely musical concerts proved popular too, staged originally (see photo above) on an old barn door.

Though the passion plays moved across the 101 to the Pilgrimage Theatre (now the John Anson Ford Theatre), huge Easter Sunrise services remained at the Bowl until the 1980s. Over 60 years, these famous traditional religious celebrations were what “Hollywood Bowl” meant for thousands of worshipers who might never have heard a Beethoven symphony in their lives. (Note the Aimee Semple MacPherson tailoring on the postcard’s Easter Angel.)

Stokowski conducted here. Max Reinhardt’s fabled 1934 production of A Midsummer Nights Dream brought precious laughter during the Depression. Frank Sinatra brought swoons; the Beatles did too. Monty Python made a big hit. Madame Chang Kai-Shek gave a diplomatic address here that got the U.S. to repeal the Chinese Exclusion Act. But of the many hallowed Bowl performances and events, one stands out for me as holy: the 1937 Memorial Concert for George Gershwin. 

George had moved to Hollywood and while here, he had done much of his greatest work. The artists paying tribute at the Bowl were among George’s closest friends and collaborators: Oscar Levant, Fred Astaire, Todd Duncan, Al Jolson. Gershwin’s role in American entertainment was unparalleled; a glance over the program reveals Hollywood mourning a staggering loss. But what comes across is how grateful they were, for the gift he gave to them and to the world.

“The Pope of Broadway” (1984) mural by Elroy Terrez, depicts Academy-Award winner Anthony Quinn, 70 feet high, on the side of the Victor Clothing Co. at Third and Broadway. He suavely gives us the old Zorba pose, which is actually the Aimee Semple MacPherson pose; Quinn credits the evangelist for inspiring Zorba’s “expressive hands.”

Quinn grew up in East Los Angeles, but was born in Chihuahua, as Antonio Rodolpho Quinn Oaxaca. (In Spanish tradition, the mother’s name appears last.) Back in Mexico, Senor Frank Quinn had been a revolutionary who rode with Pancho Villa. When Frank brought his family to Los Angeles to work as a cameraman at a small film studio, he unwittingly gave young Anthony a valuable foot in the door of The Industry. Quinn retained a lifelong interest in Mexican social history; one of his Oscars was for the movie “Viva Zapata!”

Quinn’s talent, charm and macho good looks brought him a fine and unusual career. They also helped boost him to the very tip-top of Hollywood, and American, society, when in 1937 he married Katherine, the adopted daughter of Cecil B. de Mille, with whom he had five kids. C.B. De Mille was not only Hollywood royalty, but a genuine Knickerbocker, descended from one of the oldest Dutch families of New Amsterdam. Quite an amazing “only in LA” American story.

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Echo Park Lake. The recent restorations and water clean-up have transformed the Park, and the entire neighborhood, releasing the Pandora’s Box-worth of social displacements that sudden gentrification engenders. But simply as a park, it is one of L.A.’s crown jewels, and particularly dazzling in the late spring when the lotus are in bloom. The Lake dates from the 1870′s, when a hilly (and echo-ey) bowl of sage and chaparall was dammed to create one of L.A.’s first reservoirs, conveniently located, as seen in the last picture, just above Downtown. The ridge that forms the lip of the bowl, to the left, is Angelino Heights, L.A.’s first Victorian “streetcar suburb”, with its own gorgeous views of Downtown.

Aimee Semple MacPherson built her famous Angelus Temple on the north end of Echo Park in 1922 with the express purpose that the crowds who flocked to her theatre – er, temple – waiting for the next show – er, service – would use the sunny public space as a kind of outdoor narthex. She had the full support of the City Leaders. Even the Pacific Electric, in part to accommodate her, re-tracked the Sunset/Glendale junction in the 20′s. 

The City Leaders soured on Mrs. MacPherson during the Depression, when she proved that, never mind her Hollywood theatrics, she was a committed and trail-blazing social activist Christian. Aimee put people’s mouths where her money was, organizing relief tables (simple cash handouts on demand), hiring the Forgotten Men to hire other Forgotten Men, and running kitchens that fed thousands nutritious, hot meals throughout the 30′s. As with churches today, she received enormous pressure from the City to cut down on the crowds of relief-men filling the Park with transients; many of those assumed to be Mexican, and many of those, assumed to be Reds. Tensions were muted, and crowds much diminished, when Aimee finally gave in to the old American standard of “deserving vs. undeserving”, agreeing not to give relief to any unemployed, therefore undeserving, person. (Read that last clause again.)

Actor Anthony Quinn recalls being brought as a boy from East L.A. to Echo Park by his Pentacostal Mexican aunt; he grew up in the Foursquare Gospel church. He recalls the festive atmosphere of the meals, and describes with admiration the hold that charismatic Aimee had on crowds. He became part of her ministry, even shared her stage, translating for the Mexicans that thronged her street revivals. He was awed by her personality, her showmanship, and her commitment to a full Spanish-language ministry. Eventually, reluctantly, Aimee bowed to the racial and class structures of the day. She helped keep Echo Park white for a time by segregating her Spanish-speaking congregation over to East L.A.