He was known by a hyphenated name. And on Saturday, thousands of Angelenos attended his memorial service at the Greek Theater hosted by Bruce Springsteen and Aretha Franklin. Like the Boss and Queen of Soul, P-22 packed the house.

It was a celebration of the life of an LA icon — and almost certainly a first of its kind for a mountain lion. Politicos jostle for spots on the speakers’ list, tickets sell out within hours, and the Hollywood sign is never far away.

“The story of the P-22 is a miracle straight out of a Hollywood movie,” said one speaker, Steve Winter, the photographer whose haunting photograph for National Geographic featured the legendary landmark with a lion roaming in the background. “I have never seen a wild animal transform a society so profoundly. It changed the way Angelenos felt about urban wildlife.

P-22 — the 22nd puma tracked in a National Park Service study — was euthanized in December, the result of serious health concerns and injuries he sustained after being hit by a car. Like so many things that make LA truly LA, the P-22 came here from somewhere else, a decade ago, traveling 50 miles east from its birthplace in the Santa Monica Mountains, across the 405 and 101 freeways. .

An August 2012 article in the Los Angeles Times announced its arrival, and it has captivated the city ever since. In life, as in death, the P-22 symbolizes the struggle to survive in an urban landscape with an insatiable appetite for sprawl. It’s a relief to know that in a place that spans so much of paradise, this big cat still roams among us.

But his death, sped up by a speeding car in the capital of the world, is also part of that story: for those on two legs and four, the streets of Los Angeles are increasingly deadly. Many of P-22’s admirers spoke passionately about changing this fact and cited the wildlife crossing that inspired him to save his species from extinction.

At about 12 years old, he was old for any mountain lion outside of captivity. But consider where he lived and how he got there, and his longevity becomes even more impressive.

There is no way of knowing exactly where P-22 was born in the Santa Monica Mountains, but genetic testing revealed that he was the son of P-1, the study’s first puma, known as the “king” of the coastal range. But like the other “Nepo Babies” of this city, the P-22 had to make it on its own.

His journey is difficult for a man in a car. Researchers say it’s miraculous that a mountain lion made it.

Yet the P-22 remained isolated by the journey to fame. Surrounded by the city, he was the only known member of his species in Griffith Park, whose chaparral-covered hills adjoin the Hollywood Hills, and was a lifelong bachelor.

But his fans were not lacking. The list of speakers at P-22’s memorial included actors, artists, local elders and political leaders such as Sen. Alex Padilla (Calif.) and Gov. Gavin Newsom, both Democrats who appeared virtually. DJ Diplo also showed up on stage with a stuffed lion under his arm before going on set in Las Vegas.

Hours before the show, hundreds lined up outside the storied theater, some dressed to symbolize the raucous occasion, others donning cat ears and tails.

“I’m so grateful that we can live with that remarkable animal on the same planet at the same time,” said Beth Pratt, the California director of the National Wildlife Federation, who is known as the spokesperson for P-22. Ambassador and best friend.

Most of those in service never saw the P-22 in person, but those who did treasure the moment, such as the white celebrity sightings, some called Brad Pitt his biped doppelganger in his heyday. Mountain Lion’s famed Hollywood Hills neighbors were also enthralled.

Alan Ruck — known for his portrayals of the “Succession” dynasty’s eldest son, Connor Roy, and Ferris Bueller’s best friend, Cameron Frye — enthused in a phone interview before the show with P-22.

It was the middle of an October night, and all the dogs on the high hills in Ruck’s neighborhood were barking madly. He went to his balcony to investigate and was spotted by the moonlight.

“Behind these trees, these tall bushes, he comes down the road,” Ruck said. “And like a dumbbell, I yelled at him: ‘P-22!’”

Puma didn’t mind him, but Ruck was star-struck.

“People always say he looks like Brad Pitt. And yes, he looked like Brad, but he walked like Denzel,” Ruck said. “He had a slow, really relaxed, intoxicating walk.”

Usually when humans and large animals live side by side there is some friction. P-22 once apparently scaled an eight-foot fence at the Los Angeles Zoo in Griffith Park and killed a 14-year-old koala named Killarney. Another time, he got stuck in a crawl space under a family home in a Los Feliz neighborhood and began hours of negotiations to get him out.

Both times he was pardoned. Everybody has to eat and LA has a housing shortage

In the weeks since his death, the city has debated ways to commemorate P-22: Add his likeness to the Los Angeles flag, which already sports a grizzly and a lion; erect a life-size statue of him in Griffith Park; Or give him a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

That last one won’t happen without a major overhaul of the rules, which limit honorees to six entertainment industry categories, according to a Walk of Fame spokeswoman. And Hollywood, which oversees the Walk of Fame, doesn’t consider P-22 an entertainer, unlike fictional fellow members of the animal kingdom, Big Bird and Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Rep. Adam B. Schiff (D-Calif.), a P-22 congressman, has suggested putting his face on the stamp. State Assemblywoman Laura Friedman, a Democrat running to replace Schiff, has vowed she “will not rest” until the monument is erected.

But others insist the best way to honor his memory is to preserve, expand, the city’s dwindling wilderness.

For centuries man and nature have battled for supremacy here, as a vast metropolis has sprouted from this unlikely region.

In his book “The Mirage Factory” about the founding of Los Angeles, author Gary Crist wrote, “It was not the right place to build a big city.” “Only Americans, it seems, can dream of something so unlikely, contrary to common sense.”

Rapid urbanization has destroyed much of the environment. As the city’s population grows by the millions, the region’s status as a biodiversity hotspot is under threat; Out of 4,000 species of plants and animals, 52 species are threatened.

The freeway, however, poses the greatest threat to the region’s pumas, nine of which were killed in vehicle collisions last year, according to the National Park Service.

The P-22 served as the poster cat for a fundraising campaign to build a wildlife crossing on Highway 101, meant to connect habitat and provide safe passage for pumas and other endangered animals. The ambitious effort, which eventually raised more than $100 million, broke ground in April and will be completed in 2025.

At Saturday’s memorial — part funeral, part dance party and part rally — state leaders and advocates pledged to raise millions to build additional crossings.

Others called for the adoption of local wildlife ordinances that would promote habitat connectivity. And some applauded the state’s recent ban on rat poison, which once sickened P-22. Assemblyman Friedman, who wrote the legislation, said lawmakers showed pictures of sick puma to help whip votes.

“P-22 gave us hope that maybe, just maybe, animals will win and nature will win,” Friedman said at the memorial.

On a recent evening in the scenic spot where P-22 lives, the setting sun cast a brilliant shade of lilac on the low-hanging fog. Freeways were shut down during rush hours and planes took off from nearby airports. Humanity’s disturbing fingerprints can be seen all over the landscape. Griffith Park was the only green space. Birds were circling overhead as traffic hummed through the hills.

It wasn’t that hard to imagine another mountain lion hiding out of sight in a city backyard.