I have this massive folder of pictures from my location scouting days in New York City, of totally random things I’d come across in my travels. Like, this magazine stand on 6th Avenue that appears to magically have a tree growing through the middle of it –

I remember walking by this place and always having so many questions. Like: how shallow was the clerk’s booth, given that it had to accommodate the tree? Did that door with Employees Only written on it lead to the tree area? Was there even a bathroom for the clerk?

Who was the enterprising soul who realized there was JUST enough room to erect a magazine stand? And what strange bit of NYC property history resulted in this square being carved out of the building to begin with??

Sadly, a quick streetview check reveals it’s all gone in 2026. The tree has been cut down. The magazine shop is now just a wall for advertising.

Looking through my folder of pics, so many have suffered the same fate: strange little bits of history that have disappeared in the pursuit of square footage and homogenization.

I sometimes think that cities go through two eras: the period when these oddities are allowed to crop up, often due to sheer chance, ignorance, or disregard; and then, the period when they’re slowly but surely identified and eliminated.

There’s obviously no justification in keeping them around forever; but then, if we all know they’ll never be allowed to come back once they’re gone, doesn’t that suggest they had some sort of value all along?

The other day, I was out scouting in the middle of nowhere when I came something special.

I was making my way across unnamed dirt roads when, in the distance, I saw what looked like an abandoned stone house…

Of course I had to pull over and take a look. I love finding these places, desert homes that are miraculously still standing often a century after they were built…

Typically, they’re reclaimed by local kids as a place to hang out, drink, smoke, the usual. This one was particularly large…

And even had a second little home out back, with its own miniature fireplace:

Then I noticed something odd nearby: a block-like structure with stairs leading up to it. At first, I thought it was a cistern, but there was one higher up on the hill. What could it be?

I looked inside – and the rounded stairs in the corner gave it away: this was a pool! And there was more…

On the stairs leading up to the pool, I saw some writing and took a closer look. What I found amazed me…

“Started Oct 1944; Finished Oct 1945.” Absolutely incredible. At a time when this area could not have been more inaccessible and remote, someone took it upon themselves to build not only a home, but a pool…

Then I realized this wasn’t the only trace left by the family that lived here over eighty years ago. Lining the pool were several buttress-like steps…

And as I looked closer, I was amazed to see handprints and names from the family. Here we have “ELIZABETH” and her nickname, “BETTY”:

Others were so faded that it was impossible to read the writing…

And for others still, the writing was almost completely gone:

But one was still particularly legible, a special spot reserved at the head of the pool…

Pop and mom. The two who had somehow created a home in the middle of nowhere.

This is why I love what I do. You think you’ve seen it all. You stare out at a vast empty desert plain and think: there’s nothing out there. Then you start exploring – and it turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Never stop exploring.

I’ve been scouting this week in the desert, and I keep coming across abandoned boats, which I love because it’s such a surreal visual. And given how popular crazy conspiracy theories are these days, I’ve decided to create a “flat-Earther”-style explanation for their existence –

I don’t have all the details worked out yet, but in my burgeoning premise: this area was once home to a vast lake ala the Salton Sea that was used for recreational purposes by locals.

Then, one day about twenty years ago, THE EVENT occurred, in which the lake suddenly flashed out of existence, along with all collective human memory and written evidence of said lake. Exactly what happened is still fiercely debated –

Some say it was due to an controversial experiment gone awry at nearby Edwards AFB… Others claim it was a dimensional crossover, in which our water wound up in a mirror reality… Others say the government siphoned it off during an life-threatening drought…

Whatever happened, the only evidence remaining are the boats left stranded across the former lake bed never to sail again, all records erased, their owners having long forgotten about them.

Until: the prophesied return of the disappearing lake. Soon.

Obviously, this theory is incredibly stupid, which means a large number of people will likely believe it. So get in on the ground floor and add to the mythology! And be sure to follow for more of the crazy thoughts you have when you’ve been scouting in the desert for too long…

As a location scout, I love taking a closer look at older movie locations, so here’s the first part of a deep dive I’ve been working on for you Philly fans: Brian De Palma’s Blow Out, comparing 1981 Philadelphia to what it’s become 45 years later…

The movie opens with a scene that fills me with anxiety as a scout, because it would be extraordinarily difficult to pull off today. We see John Travolta out recording ambient sounds on a pedestrian bridge…

This was shot under the Henry Avenue bridge alongside Lincoln Drive, and the pedestrian bridge is still there to this day:

We then see a man next to a bench, apparently out for a stroll. Except look closely – there is BARELY enough room for the bench (it’s basically pressed against the wooden fence). That’s because it’s not really a sidewalk so much as a curb against traffic whizzing by on Lincoln.

My assumption is that the production closed all of Lincoln Drive, from Rittenhouse to Ridge, for the shoot over the course of several long nights, which allowed them to play it as more of a quiet park location with a transverse. We see a car smash through the fence…

And plunge into the Wissahickon Creek. Today, I can’t even imagine how many environmental studios alone would need to be conducted to get permission, let alone a laundry list of other concerns. Back in the 1980s? Chances are, that car is still down there.

Miss my day trips from NYC to Philly dearly since moving to LA. I’ll post more from Blow Out in the coming weeks.

Every time I scout this corporate office park in Irvine, I have to do this. As the architect intended, I’m sure.

I love when businesses near an airport tip their hat to aviation in some way. The all-timer is the Air Line Diner sign at the Jackson Hole a few minutes from LaGuardia (better known as the Goodfellas diner!)…

I also love Jet Stream Liquors near Burbank Airport in North Hollywood.

If you know of others, please share!

I recently posted about how Columbia University’s wood-paneled lecture hall is THE go-to lecture hall for filming locations; for libraries, it’s the Brooklyn Historical Society.

As a location scout, you walk in and just go: “OK. We’re done.”

I was scouting a liquor store once, and as I was leaving the owner said, “I hope you decide to film here,” and shook my hand with a sly wink – and slipped me one of those tiny bottles of Jack Daniels.

I sometimes wonder if this was smallest attempted bribe in Hollywood history.

“It’s Friday night and I’m driving down Alimony Road” sounds like the start to a bad country song…and is also what I’m literally doing right now.