On a brisk February night in 2006, the historic HMS Bounty bar in Koreatown overflowed with Angelenos mourning a loss that cut deep into the city’s heart. The legendary Ambassador Hotel, once the playground of Hollywood royalty and the site of pivotal moments in American history, had been razed despite years of impassioned campaigning. Among those grieving was Diane Keaton—a woman whose love for Los Angeles extended far beyond the silver screen.

For most, Diane Keaton is a cinematic icon, forever etched in our memories as Annie Hall, Kay Adams, or the quirky mom in “Father of the Bride.” But to preservationists, city planners, and a legion of admirers in Los Angeles, she was a tireless advocate for the city’s architectural heritage—a crusader whose commitment to saving historic buildings was as fierce as any performance she ever delivered.

A Passion Born of Place

Keaton’s connection to Los Angeles ran deep. Raised in the city, she developed a fascination with its stories, its neighborhoods, and the buildings that shaped its identity. “The more I got to know her, the more I understood where that passion came from,” recalled Linda Dishman, longtime president of the L.A. Conservancy. “It was about family, growing up here, and truly feeling the pulse of the city through its places.”

Her journey into preservation began with a simple curiosity about a Spanish home owned by a Conservancy board member. That spark quickly grew into a full-blown commitment: Keaton joined the Conservancy’s board, lent her voice to countless campaigns, and restored several historic homes herself—including one designed by Lloyd Wright, son of the legendary Frank Lloyd Wright.

“She was just charming, and it was great being with her, because we shared a passion for historic places,” Dishman said. “Houses were her first interest, but she cared deeply about the whole architectural landscape.”

The Ambassador Hotel: A Battle for Memory

If there was a single campaign that defined Keaton’s preservation work, it was the fight to save the Ambassador Hotel. Built in 1921 by architect Myron Hunt, the Ambassador was more than a building—it was a stage for the city’s most dramatic chapters. From hosting every president from Hoover to Nixon to witnessing the tragic assassination of Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, the hotel’s walls had absorbed decades of glamour, sorrow, and transformation.

After its closure in 1989, the Ambassador became a favorite location for filmmakers, but its fate hung in the balance. When the Los Angeles Unified School District purchased the property in 2001, the Conservancy, led by Keaton and others, fought to adapt the historic structure for educational use. Despite their efforts, the city allowed demolition in 2005.

At the wake for the Ambassador, Keaton spoke with raw emotion: “Looking at the shadow of our once glorious Ambassador Hotel, like losing a lover, I felt that familiar pounding heartbeat racing through my body, and I felt the loneliness of her last stand. I heard an echo, and maybe it was the echo of the ambassador calling me. It was almost as if she was saying to me, ‘goodbye, Diane, Keep me in your heart, and next time, try harder.’”

Opening Doors and Hearts

Keaton’s star power wasn’t just for show—it was a key that unlocked doors. “Sometimes it can be hard to get a meeting with an elected official,” Dishman explained. “But if I said, ‘Diane Keaton would like to meet with your boss,’ people would always say yes. Even if they didn’t agree with us, everybody wanted to meet Diane.”

Her willingness to put her name and reputation on the line made a difference, even when victories were elusive. “She was very open with me about ‘use my name. If you want a meeting, you call and get it, and I’ll be there.’ She was willing to go the extra mile and not just do the easy stuff.”

Keaton’s approach to advocacy was refreshingly direct and unpretentious. “She had a way of speaking to people about preservation,” Dishman said. “She wasn’t pompous. She just was very direct, and had so much passion that everybody wanted to come along with her.”

Celebrating Successes, Learning from Losses

While the Ambassador Hotel may have slipped away, Keaton found joy in other victories. She celebrated the restoration of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Ennis House, a building she adored for its architectural kinship to her own home. She attended every benefit, reveled in preservation awards, and joined the board of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, extending her influence far beyond Los Angeles.

Her message was always clear: preservation isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a vital part of sustainability and community. In a Los Angeles Times editorial, she wrote, “We’ve treated old buildings like we once treated plastic shopping bags—we haven’t reused them, and when we’ve finished with them, we’ve tossed them out. This has to stop. Preservation must stand alongside conservation as an equal force in the sustainability game.”

Keaton saw the demolition of historic buildings as a loss not only of culture, but of environmental and educational value. “When we tear down a building, we are wiping out lessons for the future. If we think of it that way, we will begin to understand the emotional impact of wasting the energy and resources used to build it in the first place.”

The Legacy of a Preservationist

Diane Keaton’s passing at 79 marks the end of an era, but her legacy lives on in the city she loved and fought for. From the sun-drenched streets of Hollywood to the quiet corners of Koreatown, her influence can be felt in the buildings that remain, the stories that endure, and the people who continue her work.

For Los Angeles, Keaton was more than a movie star—she was a guardian of memory, a believer in the power of place, and a reminder that our history deserves to be cherished, not erased.

As the city grows and changes, her words echo through its halls: “Keep me in your heart, and next time, try harder.”