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Because many good and sincere people are involved, I trust that Saturday’s and Sunday’s King Day programs at the Senior Center will be more successful than the King Day Committee’s opening volley.
The banner across Overland Avenue, in front of the Vets Auditorium, is a disaster.
Grossly violating the first commandment of street banners, it is illegible, not to mention strongly unattractive.
It resembles a spilled can of baked beans.
Unless you jam on the brakes, delay loudly impatient surrounding traffic, and spend 4 or 5 minutes trying to crack the secret code of the artist, you never will understand the message.
It is ugly.
As a tool of communication, it is self-defeating.
On this, the City Council blew $1500?
They should demand a refund.
Boys, you did not even come close to getting your dollars’ worth.
Consumed with himself, the designer ignored the slightly important fact that his target audience is motorists driving at 20 to 30 miles an hour.
If only he had used simple “Stop” signs as his model.
But he probably would have cluttered his “Stop” sign by changing the verbiage to: “This, dear driver, is where we would prefer that you bring your vehicle of choice to a complete halt in order to avoid a collision before resuming your journey to a destination that I am certain you will enjoy. As Pooh would say, ‘Ta-ta for now.’”
Removing the Sting
Better the banner should have been strung beneath the Vets Auditorium instead of outside where people will notice.
Or better yet at Holy Cross Cemetery.
On foot this morning, in front of the Vets, I came to a full stop and tried to read the signage. Couldn’t. And I walked on.
If more than two passing motorists have deciphered a single fact from the badly smudged message this week, the misguided designer should regard that as a miracle.
The imagery would only work in a fah-ncy exhibition area at LACMA where well-dressed gentlemen and gentle ladies wear their glasses 50 percent southward on their powdered noses.
Glutted with gloomy, dark, clashing figures in a grimy sea of difficult-to-fathom, circus-style lettering, the banner could have been ripped down this morning without affecting King Day traffic.
In fact, it might help weekend attendance.
An Exercise in Futility
Are you sure this extremely unattractive banner was not produced by the other side, those oldtimers who think only white people should be honored?
The amateur legend had to be the work of a raw newcomer.
Anyone with a smidgen of promotional experience knows the first law of banners is to make 1 or 2 points — fast, clear, easy to read.
The dominant “MLK” appears to have been designed by a struggling beginning art student. He probably hoped to impress his teacher and boost his grade by introducing off-putting, uncomplimentary colors.
The art buff further ruins his work by glutting the letters with misshapen pieces of Dr. King’s face. Again, it might impress LACMA visitors, but as a popular promotion, it spectacularly flops.
The trouble is the same every January. The promoters keep hiring the wrong people. Relatives, I presume.
Xeroxing Their Errors
Selling King Day every January isn’t easy — as Culver City keeps proving — especially on the Westside because there is so much competition for the minds of busy people.
Being merely enthused about Dr. King’s accomplishments, as we have sadly learned from most of the preceding programs, does not translate into a serious, adult-worthy attraction.
Last year’s program, finally, was the first King Day program that clicked.
For an illustration of a pure failure to avoid repeating, you may remember this pip from the past:
A couple years ago, one of these unimaginative housewife-type amateur genius promoters thought up the notion of celebrating King Day at the King Fahad Mosque.
There is so much talent in this town. But it goes untapped every year when reliably unimaginative amateur planners sit down to think up a new King Day show.
May I Suggest?
Back in the 1960s and early ‘70s, there was a terrific track and field promoter in downtown Los Angeles, Al Franken.
Mr. Franken could and did sell ice cubes to Eskimos. He could have sold me a lifetime supply of mink gloves. If there is a drearier sport than track and field, it has not yet been invented. But Mr. Franken sold his once-a-year track meet as if he were passing out food to starving masses.
He may still be adding up his profits.
Last I heard, Mr. Franken was still with us.
Are these people allergic to professionals, to promoters?
Who wants to witness a fire drill at the Braille Institute?
As I said above, the King Day Committee members are well-meaning people.
My question: Was last year’s fabulous tribute to Dr. King a fluke or a sign that they have turned this big, old elephant around?
Hopefully, the banner is not a omen of the weekend to come.
