Tourism

City crews, dispatched before sunrise, hosed down streets, scrubbed public restrooms and strung up Christmas lights. Boutique shops were placing urgent orders for more T-shirts and swimsuits. The semi-submersible vessel Nautilus added three daily tours of Avalon's crescent-shaped harbor.

The lofty crown of the Statue of Liberty, closed to the public since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, will reopen July 4, Interior Secretary Ken Salazar announced Friday. Salazar made the announcement on NBC's "Today" show in an appearance standing inside the statue's crown, which he said gave him "goose bumps." Admission will be "egalitarian," the secretary said.

Somewhere between Debbie Reynolds and Jack Benny, the Laitala family of Duluth, Minn., stopped to marvel at the throngs of tourists shuffling among the sidewalk stars of Hollywood Boulevard. Joel Laitala, a mechanic, focused his camera on a star in the pavement while his wife, Lori, watched as costumed characters -- Superman, Capt. Jack Sparrow and Homer Simpson -- posed for photos with tourists for tips.

Today's Michael Jackson memorial service at Staples Center may put a strain on city services, but it's turning out to be a shot in the arm for Southern California's slumping tourism industry. Hotels, restaurants, tourist destinations and airlines reported a massive jump over the weekend in business and reservations, and they foresee a continued surge that they hope will jolt the local economy -- at least for a few days.

Move over, Grauman's Chinese Theatre. The hot new Southern California tourist attractions are the restaurants, boutiques and tattoo parlors where some of reality television's most popular shows are filmed. Tourists from as far away as Germany fly in to visit the West Hollywood tattoo shop featured in the Learning Chanel's "LA Ink." Fans of the E! Entertainment Television hit "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" stream into the Calabasas clothing stores run by the show's stars.

It's tough living in the shadow of one of the most recognized tourist attractions in the world. For decades, Garden Grove city leaders have tried to ride Disneyland's coattails by building their own tourist destination. There's been talk of a Las Vegas-like casino, a theme park on Latino history, a music-filled river walk; all died in the early planning stages. But that hasn't stopped city officials from putting tourism at the heart of Garden Grove's plans for the future.

The red-and-white ferry boats shuttling between Balboa Island and the Balboa Peninsula are still jammed with cars, shirtless teens and tourists on bicycles. Luxury yachts -- many bigger than most motor homes -- still crowd the blue waters off the shores of the 128-acre island in Newport Bay. And the rental rates for the island's multimillion-dollar vacation homes -- up to $5,000 a week -- have barely dipped from last year's prices.

On a sultry midweek afternoon at the grand new Resort at Pelican Hill, a scant dozen vacationers lounged at what is billed as the world's largest circular pool, flanked on one side by a Coliseum-style amphitheater and on the other by an ocean-view golf course. A few miles south in Laguna Beach, most of the 170 lounge chairs at the Montage resort's oceanfront pool were empty as the afternoon wore on. Cocktail hour arrived, but at 5:45 p.m. only a single table at the poolside Mosaic Bar & Grille was occupied.

It was a good summer for Georges Boustany. His popular upscale beach club, Lazy B, thrived as record numbers of visitors flocked to Lebanon's famed sandy coast for what officials are calling the country's most successful tourist season ever. But the influx has so strained the nation's war-weakened infrastructure that in late August, Lazy B was getting only about 12 hours of electricity a day, and even then the voltage was so low that Boustany was forced to augment it with a diesel-fueled generator.

The drab, cheap motel -- the type that rents rooms by the hour -- sits just a couple of blocks off the Strip. Compared with its upscale neighbors, with their towering hotels and neon-laden casinos, this place seems better suited for a lonely crossroads in the desert than for fabulous Las Vegas. In a dimly lighted alley behind the motel lies the body of a young woman. She is sprawled near a Dumpster, her right arm outstretched toward her faux-leather purse. Nearby are her cellphone and a publicity photo like the ones models and actresses use. The 8-by-10 glossy depicts the now-deceased woman.