Before we get into the macabre details of the place, the sprawling structure is certainly a sight to behold; impressive in both size and scope. Once carnival-themed, the CIA is now dressed like a warped version of Chinatown (hence the new name, 'Chinatown East'), and the reddish glow created by the plethora of lanterns only adds to the amazing "WTF" ambiance of the joint. The layout is a labyrinth—there's a movie screening area, a full-blown stage for performances, an outdoor patio, a bar, and lots of twisty hallways—and includes many intimate crevices to optimize your explorations. I mean, just look at what welcomes you upon arrival.
This is a Hollywood art director's dirty wet dream.
And I can't emphasize enough how many unique artifacts are stuffed into every nook and cranny of this place. In every direction, there's some type of carnival trinket, morbid knick-knack, or haunted something, each with a twisted backstory of its own. You can't escape the evil forces in this place, but why would you want to?
And what pleasures might you run into at the CIA? Some highlights include: a cursed mangled arm—which grants wishes in 24 hours but brings a terrible end to those who photograph it—a haunted painting, the head of Bigfoot, a monkey's paw, and the mummified body of a thief.
There's also a two headed baby, who made the rounds in Florida educating people about the dangers of taking LSD.
As advertised, one of the main attractions is the aforementioned dead clown. Said to be 100+ years old and filled with toxic embalming fluids to keep it ageless, the clown is truly a holy sight to see (and not bad looking, given the age). Witnessing him in person is like going to the MOMA and finally basking in the glow of Van Gogh's "The Starry Night" in person.
The decor alone would have me coming here weekly, but the shows they host on weekends are some next-level stuff: performance art, fire eaters, stand-up comedy, punk rock bands, freakshow acts, and kinky burlesque all await the public on any given open evening. And while these are all fine and dandy, no show will ever upstage the bar's charms, and you'll find yourself gravitating toward the outside and posting up next to a plethora of shrunken heads as you top off your beer. If this place doesn't scream "date night," then there's no justice in this world.
Then there's the owner Carl Crew (aka the "Barnum of Burbank Blvd"), who's quite the attraction himself and worth at least double the admission price just to sit down and chat with.
A producer, artist, writer, veteran actor of cult flicks (like this classic), and a former Marin County mortician, Carl fittingly portrayed Jeffrey Dahmer in one of the first movies about the infamous killer's life. Talk with him—dude has some wild stories—and for the love of God, ask him to give you a tour of the joint if he isn't busy. It's pretty special.
A born showman, Carl's enthusiasm and charisma for the madness surrounding him are contagious. He's proud of each and every artifact on display, will go into great detail regarding their twisted origin stories, and does it all in the manic tone of a Southern carnival barker, which makes things even more fun.
I'd honestly put CIA in my top 5 list of "LA places you need to experience before you die." It's a damned fine specimen of what makes our strange town so great.
As I continue on my quest to build a working time machine and go back to a simpler and more dangerous time in LA's history, CIA personifies the spirit of a gradually fading quirkiness that's missing nowadays. Props to Carl for keeping it all alive. Just remember, SF kids, this man could've been the one who fixed up the dead bodies of your grandparents back in the '80s—and now you can buy a beer from him.
Go to there
