While we were visiting L.A. for a tennis tournament in October, my wife decided we had to check out the city’s famous Halloween-decorated homes. She had the whole thing planned out — maps, routes, snacks — the full operation. So, after a long day of tennis, we jumped in the car and began our spooky tour.
Our first stop: The Clown House.
And let me tell you — this place could single-handedly supply nightmares for the entire nation. It had every kind of clown you could imagine: happy clowns, sad clowns, creepy clowns, clown families, clown babies — you name it. If one clown didn’t do it for you, don’t worry, there were about 300 more waiting to terrify or amuse you. The collection was so massive it looked like the owner had been curating it since the dawn of time.
The owner himself came out to chat, big smile on his face — which, I’ll admit, felt a little too on brand given the clown theme. He told us how he updates the display every year so it never looks the same. The front yard, the sides, even the back — all covered in clown madness. My kids were both amazed and slightly traumatized, which is exactly what you want from Halloween. 715 N Ontario Street
Next, we wandered to another house that wasn’t quite ready for the big week yet — decorations half up, half in boxes, like Halloween was still in rehearsal. We moved on to the Skeleton Hospital, where dozens of skeletons were laid out across the lawn in full medical chaos — patients, nurses, even a surgeon or two. The owner was out front tweaking his bony creations, grinning ear to ear like a proud mad scientist.
Then came Halloween Holiday Fantasyland, which honestly defied description. Imagine a castle made of pumpkins, ghosts, and smoke machines — then double it. The yard was overflowing with statues, monsters, and lights flashing in every direction. My eyes didn’t know where to land — it was sensory overload in the best possible way. The kids were completely mesmerized. 1505 N Valley St
Our next stop blew my mind: The Beetlejuice House.
These homeowners went all in. They had life-sized Beetlejuice statues, scenes from the movie, eerie lighting, and probably a few ghosts who moved in permanently. You could tell they poured their hearts, souls, and maybe sanity into making it perfect. 1743 N California, 1920 N Evergreen St.
Finally, we hit the crown jewel: The Wicked of Oz House.
It was hand-crafted art at its finest — all made by the owners themselves. Every prop, statue, and scene was made from scratch. But the highlight? A talking skeleton. My daughter was completely convinced it was alive. The skeleton started talking to her, asking personal questions — her brother’s name, her dog’s name, what she liked to do. She freaked out, yelling, “Oh my god, it knows everything!”
Meanwhile, the owner was hiding behind the fence with a microphone, laughing his head off. It was pure gold. Eventually, her brother spilled the beans and ruined the magic — sibling justice served cold.
We spent the rest of the night cruising through more homes, laughing, gawking, and just loving how much creativity and passion people put into making Halloween special. It reminded us how magical — and hilarious — the holiday can be when people go all out.
