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# Cartographer shrugged: Mid-City full of maybes
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/cartographer-shrugged-mid-city-full-of-maybes/
- Published: 2007-10-17T15:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-25T01:08:47.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: Opinion, Mid-City, #archive-import

*By MICHAEL TITTINGER is editor of the Daily Press. When he’s not looking for inspiration in the abyss, he*

IT WAS THERE — SOMEWHERE BETWEEN the Salton Sea and Copper River, Alaska — that it hit me, during a showing of “Into the Wild” at the doomed NuWilshire Theatre; each of us was watching a film about chasing isolation, sitting as far apart from one another as possible in the most indifferent spot in town.

The NuWilshire just may be this ’hood’s last vestige of community, of old-time commercial charm. Built in 1931, it features “a challenging mix of independent and foreign language films on its twin screens.” Soon, it will be featuring a challenging mix of low-rise men’s jeans and Flamestitch Cowl Sweaters.

With its Art Deco facade and neon marquee, the venerable old moviehouse is a beacon of cultural significance amid the failing cafes, temporal businesses and auto dealerships that define this uninspired stretch of the city by the sea. But, as with anything, retro reminiscences of bygone entertainment doesn’t pay the bills. The theater’s owner — Soundview Investment Partners — applied for a major remodel of the site a year ago, and jean outfitters Anchor Blue and Lucky Brand reportedly have their denim panties in a bunch trying to secure the site.

Yes, the NuWilshire is fading to black to make way for the 2008 denim premieres, and truth be told, no one seems to care all that much. Let’s face it, no one lives in Mid-City for the vibe. The pulse of the neighborhood is the equivalent of Ben Stein on Benadryl. It’s like Bono going solo — no Edge. There’s more passion on a Mattel Toys assembly line.

It’s the only Santa Monica neighborhood without a resident association to speak of... because it’s not really a neighborhood. It’s basically everything else on the Santa Monica map, defined by precisely what it is not. It’s not Downtown. It’s not Pico Neighborhood. It’s not North of Montana. It’s not Ocean Park. It’s not Sunset Park. It’s not WilMont.

Images of the area bordered by Wilshire Boulevard to the north, the I-10 freeway to the south, Lincoln Boulevard to the west and Centinela Avenue to the east don’t pop up on the postcard racks too often. If you have an artistic side, boasting you live in Mid-City doesn’t carry much creative cache. It’s hospitals and construction; it’s preferential parking and locked-in rent-controlled lifers; it’s eye contact avoidance and staggered rest homes. It’s close to everything and central to nothing.

And for five-plus years, it’s been home. Each of the city’s other six neighborhoods has a personality, or at least, a stereotype you can hang your hat on. Sunset Park is where you raise kids; Downtown is where you get things done; Ocean Park is where you live the beach town life; Pico is where you fight; Montana is where the rich lay low; and WilMont is where the cash-strapped eye those north of Montana.

If Monopoly ever released a Santa Monica edition, the Mid-City streets would be light blue, where you grab some properties because you could afford it, then see the Boardwalks and Park Places of the city and, ultimately, feel you might have done better had you held out and gone around the corner.

The Mid-City monopoly will be nice with a few little green houses, maybe even a red hotel someday. Invest in a couple of railroads and go for a third-place finish. You won’t be languishing in jail, but you’ll have to bank on hitting Free Parking pretty regularly to stay in the game with the real “players.”

A professed movie lover and off-again screenwriter, it would seem having a Depression-era moviehouse around the corner from me would be ideal... I’ve caught about six or seven flicks at the NuWilshire. I guess I don’t really care that much either, well, not enough to try and bolster their financial status by sitting through every “Bread and Tulips” or “Wind that Shakes the Barley” that comes down the pike.

Mid-City isn’t a destination, but a ’tween-er. We live here and we go out someplace else, not because it isn’t safe, but because we seek inspiration in our lives.

The costs of indifference rarely hit all at once, they chip away here and they chip away there, until we’re left with a vapid expanse devoid of character and definition.

Still, if you’re reading into this that I want to chair a neighborhood pride group, you’ve got me all wrong.

This is Mid-City, baby.

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on October 17, 2007.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/101707.pdf?ref=smdp.com)