Category Archives: history

L.A. Gang Tour ~ Empowerment through story

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“We started these problems and it’s going to take us to fix them.” Alfred Lomas of L.A. Gang Tours

Due to some technical difficulties with technology, I’m writing this post through my iPhone, so be patient of minor flaws. More than usual anyway. Thanks to Wendy Carrillo, I was able to attend the L.A. Gang Tour media presentation today to get a better feel for it, which is starting next week. For most of the day I’ve been chewing on the fat of the tour over all and what I want to write and say about it and what is being questioned back and forth. Is this ok? Is it poor people watching? Does the tour suck? Etc.

Before I get into any of that, I wanna share where I’m coming from. I’m an adoptive son of Boyle Heights, but like a promiscuous lover, I’ve been around. A lot of the spots that are in the tour, I spent time there as a kid. Looking out the window crossing Alameda into South Central and Compton took me back to days of future past when I saw those same sights in the back seat of my parents car. I was back in the hood after being gone for so long.

All those memories came back in a rush and I was all smiles. I know what’s up here. I know the tour guide knows his stuff and he’s not selling any bullshit to sensationalize it. This allowed me the opportunity to really listen to what he’s saying. What he wants to accomplish with the tour, what the future may bring and how this is the first step in more monumental actions. Everyone is hung up with the safari/fish bowl aspect of the tour and not listening to his hopes, ideals, vision and most importantly his motivation, which he does through Jesus and the Dream Center. If you want details about how this happened, read DJ’s post or the Times article.

“It’s never about strategies or building funds. It’s always about the people. It’s always about the lives that are being touched. It’s about the individuals who are willing to stand up in these communities.” Lomas

The way I see it, this tour is no different than this very blog that is a tool, a device that allows us to tell our own stories the way we see fit from our individual perspectives. To empower ourselves through our stories, using them and sharing them with others. Fostering ideas and dialogue amongst ourselves, rather than letting others tell our stories in ways that don’t even come close to how it really is. This is what I see this tour doing. They’re former bangers and they know how fucked up the system is, but not only that, they decided to take action.

They want to create sustainability within their own city, not relying on outside help. Creating jobs for kids and most importantly a path to end the cycles that keep snatching others into the La Vida Loca. This is the conclusion I made half way through the tour when we stopped at a church to hear a pastor describe the challenges presented to our communities. The changes in people and him personally learning Spanish and adapting his parish to help folks from the Latino/a community. To bring them in rather than exclude them.

If you wanna know what the tour is about, go and find out for yourself. Because I was part of the media preview, some of the things I saw and heard were catered for media. The tour will be unique to itself. You can call it fucked up and a safari all you want, but that’s not what this tour is about. And if you’re nesio, then fuck off. This tour is about people sharing their stories, history and personal narrative to create positive change in their communities because it takes our own to fix our own.

8th Annual Nacimiento Tour

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lookers

Bad ass urban planner James Rojas, co founder of the Latino Urban Forum, guided angelinos on a tour of nacimiento altars located throughout East L.A. Apparently, from what Victoria D. told me, this is the 8th year he’s doing this and with the gold line up and running, he opted to guide us to adjacent nacimiento altars at various stops. She said that in previous years, the tour was given on bikes. I for one was excited to go on the tour out of curiosity of what the tour would involve, what we would see and expanding my mind to new ideas and concepts and guess what ? Since VD took some pics, you get to come along too. I’ll be your online tour guide of a tour I was part of. Isn’t that kick ass ? You bet your ass it is. I seem to be using the word ass a lot. Sorry 🙂 Continue reading →

Pour One for Joe Reyes Nevarez

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Joe Reyes Nevarez, 98, died Monday, December 28, 2009.

Beloved father and groundbreaker, Joe Nevarez was an important figure in the Latino media community of Los Angeles.  He was the first Chicano reporter for the Los Angeles Times newspaper.  Joe’s career began at eastside’s Lincoln High School, where he was the Sports Editor of the school’s daily paper. His career at the L.A. Times began as a copy boy, when a student friend/co-writer and head copy boy at the Times, offered him a job. Joe’s official job was to paste up New York Stock Exchange quotations, but his love of the news process and hard working ethics, often found him volunteering in the financial section of the paper during his free time. He was paid $12 for a six-day week, yet felt so blessed to be working during the darkest part of the Depression.

Throughout his career Nevarez always urged the LA Times to hire Latino reporters, but his editors always told him there wasn’t anyone who was trained.

Nevarez came to the United States as a three-month-old when his mother crossed the Mexican border into El Paso in 1912. When he was older, he attended a Spanish Catholic school in Texas.  Joe didn’t speak English until he moved to Los Angeles and was enrolled into an English grammar school.  He became a U.S. citizen in 1925.  In 1942 Joe served as a typist and clerk for 3 years in the Army Air Corp, and naturally one of his duties was representing his squadron by reporting for the army base newsletter.

He and his wife, Theresa Juarez Nevarez, had three children: Margaret, Daniel and Cecilia.  Though Joe Nevarez never attended college, he made sure all three of his children went. Upon graduation his daughters entered the education field (one as a high-school counselor and the other as a teacher), his son worked at the Internal Revenue Service.

Joe Nevarez worked for The Los Angeles Times for a total of 52 years, during which time he also was a founding member of the California Chicano News Media Association. He said he was   happiest in the newsroom. “There’s nothing better than being a reporter,” Nevarez said. “There’s something new everyday.”

On January 6, 2010, a Memorial Service will be held at the St. Stephen Catholic Church for Joe Reyes Nevarez. http://www.archdiocese.la/directories/parishes/info.php?parish_id=277, followed by a burial at Resurrection Cemetery.

Kraft Cheez Tamal

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cheeztamal

For those that were breathlessly waiting for a follow-up, here it is. Birth of a new tradition? Another hint at the end times? Pre-post-post-Chicano food? Whatever this means, yours truly, despite the yucks and boos from the gathered crowd, went ahead with the making of a Kraft Cheez tamal. You know, that food-like orangey product in individual slices. The verdict: hey, that’s not so bad! I did add some rajas and papas to the mix, so that made it worthwhile. But it kinda failed cuz I thought it would be all melty but instead it just globbed up, maybe singles aren’t meant for a 2 hour steam bath. Hmm, on second thought, maybe I should have added 2 slices.

No te hagas, you know you want some.

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap

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If I remember correctly, my very first post on this here blog was about a police sobriety check in the heart of Boyle Heights in June of last year. Hmm more than a year later, the economy in Califas is tanking, the city is looking left and right and underneath every couch cushion to save money and bring in more revenue, like raising sales taxes to 9.75 percent and other various  measures. It’s getting tight in this city, real tight. The kind of tight that when I was growing up, frijoles, huevos and tortillas were what’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with maybe some queso de piez sprinkled on the beans to add a little variety.

Needless to say, it’s not hard to connect the dots on the current situation out on the streets of L.A. right now, with all these holiday sobriety check points to keep drunk drivers off the streets. This is an invaluable service by the police, however we all know that’s not the case right ? I mean come on !! This is way over the line, even for the L.A.P.D We all expect and know these holiday sobriety checkpoints are around, but as of late, the amount of cars getting pulled over and of these check points is bordering on abuse. Nah, you know what, it is abuse.  “Ohh but you’re just exaggerating because you blah, blah, blah” hell no I’m not exaggerating. Sunday of last week me and VD were kicking old school on our way to the barrio when we see a car pulled over on Sheridan. Then we see another car pulled over two blocks further down and then another car pulled over on Chavez and Soto. Not to mention that I average out one text per day informing me of where there are check points taking place. This isn’t the police checking for drunk drivers and keeping the streets safe, this is the police being abused by the shot callers who need to come up with more feria to cover the cost of their business expenses and trips to Mexico to represent L.A. in a book fair. Really !? A book fair !?

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¡Sounds Like Burning: We’re Going Back! How Far Back? Way Back!

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A few years ago, in San Juan de Pasto, Southern Colombia, I was thrown into the back of a van by some seriously strapped soldiers. They confiscated my camera. Earlier that day I discovered that Colombians were the kindest folk I had ever met, so I wasn’t very worried alone in the back of an unmarked van. I thought of my new friends at the bakery and barbershop as we swerved through the city. For some reason, I was allowed to keep my backpack. I opened it, grabbed my headphones and ipod and Booker White did what he always does.

The van tore through the streets. The suspect in back was moving with Booker: “I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away.” One dark-skinned soldier tapped the other and they turned to look at me. I felt like I was watching something fascinating unfold. Where were we going? What was my crime? Soldiers armed to the gums deemed me a threat with my t-shirt, sandals and scruffy beard. I watched them and hummed a little more. Then we got to the jail.

I was “interrogated” for several hours. My California ID got me free. I walked out of that jail the way I walked in: humming a tune.

Usually I like the sounds of new cities, but at that moment, I wanted something else: I stopped, reached back, got the headphones and Booker T. Washington White. Bruises be damned, there we were, on the streets of Southern Colombia, smiling because… we didn’t need a reason. We never do. I felt like singing. So we did, “I’m a stranger at this place, and I’m looking for my mother’s grave.”

Booker White “Strange Place Blues”
[audio:https://laeastside.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/strangeplaceblues.mp3]

I’m a stranger at this place and I’m lookin’ for my mother’s grave
I’m a stranger at this place and I’m lookin’ for my mother’s grave
Well it seems like to me, ooh ooh well, some of us goin’ to wail
I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away
I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away
And I can’t find no one, ooh ooh well, to take her place
I thought after my mother was put away, I thought my wife would take her place
After my mother was put away, I thought my wife would take her place
I’ll show you the difference ‘tween a mother and a wife, ooh ooh well, my wife done throw my away
I wished I could find someone to take my mother’s place
I wished I could find someone to take my mother’s place
And if I can’t find no one, ooh ooh well, well you’ll find me at her grave
I’m standin’ on my mother’s grave and I wished I could seen her face
I’m standin’ on my mother’s grave and I wished I could seen her face
I’ll be glad when that day comes, ooh ooh well, well when it be to drive me away

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Here Comes the Cavalry to the Rescue disguised as Cafe con Leche!

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This morning I see a blog on Grub Street LA, extolling a subsidiary of the Coffee Table called “Cafe con Leche” as the savior of Self Help Graphics and Art in East LA.  Franchisers of some LA Coffee Table branches are also owners of the ‘formerly known as” the Self Help Graphics building at the corner of Gage & Cesar Chavez—AND entrepreneurs of Cafe con Leche du ELA.  Hmmm–this blog which is called “Cafe con Leche Could Keep Self Help Graphics in the Chips” smells like the spin that these hipster-franchise amalgamators have been shoving down our throats since last year.  Fellas, what happen to that part in the lease contract about not using  SHG’s 37 years of community involvement to promote yourselves?    Eastsiders, can you say “Coffee Table” or does it really have to be interpreted in El Castellano?  As a hardworking volunteer in the team of many artists and activists who toil every week to keep Self Help Graphics and Art vibrant and open, I look forward to those residual checks coming in to keep ELA art in ‘the chips”.  Damn, call me and save yourself a stamp, I will personally pick that check up.  By the way—brrrring, brrring, we’ve been calling you to come and fix the lights and leaky roof for a few weeks now.  Hope we don’t have to wait until the chips roll in to get that fixed.

To read the whole preposterous blog and some insightful comments click here

Childhood games

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canicas

Growing up as a kid, I loved playing games with all the other neighborhood kids and more often than not, cousins too. A lot of the games we played are your standard stuff like hide and seek, tag, freeze tag, trompos, canicas, soccer, going on long bike rides around the hood, hitting rocks with a stick, throwing stuff at RTD buses passing by, you know, those kind of games. The ones were all you needed was a bunch of friends and a sunny afternoon. Since we were all from low income families back in the day, course we didn’t know it at the time and speaking for myself, still am, we created our own fun and those were some of the best times I had in my childhood. I was even caught up in the whole pog craze. Then I got swept up in the yo-yo craze tambien. One of the best games I remember playing with my cousins was getting two sticks. A short, thick one and a long skinny one. We would dig a hole in the dirt and place the small stick over the hole. We would then used the longer stick to chuck the short stick as far as we could,  the way you hit a golf ball with a club. The winner was who ever threw it the fardest. We had some good times playing with two sticks and a hole in the dirt. So, I wanna know what games you guys/gals played when you were a kid. Was it made up ? Did someone get hurt from the game ? Were you emotionally scarred for life like I was when you were picked last at everything because everyone thought you’d suck, but then you’d be the one kicking ass ? Do you even remember how to play those games ? (cause god knows I can’t remember how to play canicas anymore) Have you taught your kids, nephews and god children to play those same games ? Dime… AND please keep any crazy stories about playing house and doctor to yourself, this is a family site. Unless they’re really good, then please share them by all means 🙂

Gentrifier Irony

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What annoys gentrifying hipsters the most? When other, slightly different gentrifiers show up and ruin their exclusive party.  Check out this post from that fairly new music store in Echo Park called Origami, they need your support to take back some bar:

OK, I have lived in Echo Park for about 9 years. I use to frequent the Shortstop about every other day back when they allowed dancing…The place was fucking amazing then. Lot’s of cool art kids, punks, and dub heads…Once the dancefloor got shut down, we started to frequent the bar less and less. We found ourselves hitting the Gold Room for free tacos and a shot with all the old Latinos, which was kinda sketchy at times- I’m pretty sure few white kids dared venture in back then…Once the Shorty got it’s dancefloor reopened we started to go back. But it just wasn’t the same. It had this bridge and tunnel feel to it… it just seemed to take on this USC college crowd thing.

Now how funny is that? And they even managed to throw in a “bridge and tunnel” reference, which I hear is a New York thing (nah, really?) but I wouldn’t doubt if they start using it with some more local connotations, what with all our bridges and new tunnel. I wonder if they’ll also get called out for bringing up race issues, just as Chimatli was for her story of how Echo Park had changed since before the gentrification started? Besides this brief mention, I suspect not. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t particularly care about any of those bars and if they manage to Take it BACK, well good for them. Vanquish the B&Ts! But I think I’m just going to sit on the sidelines while they “make it cool” again, crack open a beer, and watch this comedic battle unfold. Ja. Ja.

If this wasn’t so hilarious, it’d be pretty fucking sad. Or is it the other way around?

Resistance Is Fertile: Dumb? Found It!

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“She’s the epi… epitome of conservativeness…if the republican party doesn’t back her, it doesn’t matter because she’s gone get the presidency!”

“We do need to have profiling. I mean, the politically correctness has got to get out now. I mean, we are americans. She sticks up for the american people not for other people. We’re first, other people last.”

Did you get that? The “Other people.” Dumbfounded. This video is comedy gold. Well, maybe not. I thought of John Taylor Gatto’s book Dumbing Us Down. I thought of the hundreds of seniors at Roosevelt High who read at fifth grade level. I thought how in Mexico or Cuba, I am almost shocked at the level of discourse, because I don’t experience that level often with the strangers I meet here. When was the last time you were asked about Twain and Emerson and Langston Hughes? “So what, those are poor countries. USA #1!” What’s my point? Don’t have one, but I have a question:

Who are these people? Is this “middle america”? The “heartland of america.” Are those racist terms still used? Where are we? We, of the barrio? In the buttland? Where is this wonderful place, so often called “america?” Never been there.

Was it the editing? Why can’t they form complete sentences? I mean, uhm, well, uhm… Here are some of the greatest unintended one-liners in the history of media, in all their mostly monosyllabic glory. The Steelers dude is timeless.

Don’t get me right, that shit’s also right here in east los, en masse! Am I castigating mi gente? Everybody is mi gente, numskull! I’m fucking tired of people talking without saying anything. I said I’m tired! What chew gone do, blame lausd? Please. You with your ipod and latest fashion bullshit, but can’t give directions to save your life. “Uhm…Duh…I dunno…like, two blocks, no no three, then uhm…” Shit! And I’m not even talking about high school students!

I want to thank Mrs. Pa(l)in for helping cast a bright light on the dim bulbs. These suckers support her ignorance. “Hey, look, someone as stupid as meself can be president, she don’t know shit like me, she gots my vote. Go Sarah Go.” I know there are videos of the current president’s supporters, but he knows how to formulate common sentences. How elitist of me? Me and my City Terrace uppity ways, barrio couture, and plastic spoon upbringing. Is a complete sentence a bad thing? What about a thought? Fuck!

Am I being too harsh? I’ve been called that before, in fact, on this blog. Like all my other posts, I could give a… uhm… huh…anda…uhm…

Is she the dumbest national politician in recent memory? Can we forget the guy who said, “I hear there’s rumors on the internets,” “One of the things I’ve used on The google…” and “… you’re working hard to put food on your family” Hell no! But, it’s her time, she can lead a confederacy of dunces, can’t she? Who else could constantly use progress as a verb? Kills me every time. Party on, Garth!
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