This wall is always changing. The drab, creme-white is always there but the placas ever-changing. Now, that flux is (temporarily) gone.
blank wall
9
Category Archives: Personal
Body in repose, LA Eastside
Bridge over LA River Date: 02-17-55
Photographer: R. Rittenhouse
A dead body from the book “The Scene Of A Crime†LAPD photo archives.
Under the North Broadway Bridge in Lincoln Hts, the old “Black Railroad Bridge†in the background and Elysian Park. Around this same time, 1955, as a 10 year old playing at the Downey Playground one night, I witnessed some guy get stabbed and thrown over this same bridge onto the railroad tracks (not as far a fall as the body in the picture took) by gangsters from East Side Clover.
Also this picture reminds me that as kids we used to climb under the bridges of the LA River to catch young pigeons for our coops. The LA River was our playground as kids, catching pigeons, toads, sliding down the mossy sides of the riverbank, talking to the hobo’s waiting on the tracks for the train to Seattle or San Francisco.
Around 1955 or 1956 the early horror film “Them†about giant ants colonizing in the storm drains of the LA was shot right where this body is lying.
This area definitely isn’t the East Side claimed by denizens of Silver Lake or Los Feliz.
My first days living in the barrio
Sunday:
Finally moved into my new place in an area called Boyle Heights. My writer friend that I met at writing/acting camp in Wisconsin hooked me up with her friends to get this small room in the back of these really nice people’s house. I’m like 15 min. from Hollywood, they say. The helicopter is hovering above. I heard a car zoom through the alley behind me and I’ve heard maybe gun shots. I don’t know about this, but it feels real.
Monday:
Woke up thinking for a quick second I was back home when I heard a rooster. Walked outside and saw my neighbor pushing a shopping cart with a big pot full of these things called tamaless (sp?). They didn’t have those in Taco Bell or Dell Taco back home. She said she sells them every weekday morning on the corner for a $1 each along with this really soupy cream of wheat, with lots of cinnamon, drink called chaumpoorrahdo (sp?). They were both very good, but the chili in the tamaless was too hot for me.
Later my friend April picked me up to go meet some agents and managers who might be interested in representing me. We didn’t get done til the late afternoon. So tired. My eyes hurt, I think its the smog.
She took me to her place in Echo Park. She said that she heard there were a lot of Mexicans living here before but they moved out to nicer places. A lot of cool edgy alt artists moved in because of the cheap rents. We ate vegan sandwiches on her porch. I like Echo Park.
Back at my lil place was quiet tonight.
Hands Across The River…
There was a time when it seemed that some Westside Angelenos perceived life east of the river to be something like this…..
Apparently, there’s been some change of heart by our neighbors to the West. I received today the following email care of L.A. Eastside and I thought it would be worthy of sharing with our readers:
Continue reading
Ramblin’ On My Mind: I’m A Man. But, You Can’t Call Me That.
I always like the story that the term “man” as a slang gesture of affection or recognition came into vogue through jazz musicians of the 1940’s. That Gillespie, Parker and Miles used the term to destroy the humiliating use of “boy” is a powerful demonstration. We’ll just make up our own shit. Better, let’s call ourselves what we are.
I read this comment from El Chavo and it jarred a few memories:
BTW, I hate that fake bonding shit: I get some people in my work environment calling me ‘bro’ or even ‘brother,’ like I know them or something. It makes me want to punch them.
Random act of kindness
Very few times in my life I am left speechless because I’m the kind of person that’ll have something to say about anything, even though I may not know what the hell I’m saying. That results in me putting my foot in my mouth and pissing someone off. Nonetheless I was treated to something special last Friday in the form of a tremendous and generous gift. Someone read my post about getting a laptop and paying for school and while I got some interesting comments and reactions from readers and colleagues, someone answered my call. This person wanted to remain anonymous, but nonetheless, I can’t ignore their random generosity. In a nutshell, they had got this laptop for for themselves a while back and never ended up using it. They read my post and thought to themselves, “This computer was meant for ERH.” Well I don’t know about that but I’m none the less EXTREMELY GRATEFUL and APPRECIATIVE of the fact that someone out in cyberlandia read what I posted, felt where I was coming from and decided to help a brotha out. It’s not everyday that I’m on the receiving end of random generosity, so I’m left speechless. Thank you. I’ll no longer be at school 6 to 7 hours because I need to type up homework, blog or do other random online stuff. Now I’ll be able to go to free wifi hotspots, chill, check my email and blog in peace and serenity. I’m super stoked about this, I can hardly contain myself. Gracias. I’m still trippping out on all this.
Neighbors: your best source of information
Last Sunday as I was heading home, I noticed the increasingly familiar sight of a helicopter swooping in circles around the heights area of Lincoln Heights. Things have been heating up around Northeast LA and by things, I mean gangs and related activities. They usually confine their exploits to the wee hours of the night so I was surprised at all the commotion on a Sunday afternoon.
Continue reading
THEY’VE F@#*ED IT UP!
The landmark street sign for long time Eastside favorite “CHRONI’S FAMOUS SANDWICH SHOP” recently fell victim to a “hostile makeover.”
The former original version had featured a flickering neon outline that animated the doggie’s wagging tail and tongue. The new flat paint job reduces the sign to a shadow of it’s former self. By simply filling in the original outlines with bright primary colors instead of attempting to restore the original design, the management continues to further alienate us purists by continuing a string of Chroni’s atrocities such as putting lettuce in the hamburgers.
As an avid preservationist and historian, I lament yet another loss of our city’s original flavor. My only consolation at this point is that I had managed to document images of the original version.
The original Chroni’s sign now becomes yet another bit of L.A. history that we’ll have to find in some future coffee table book. (Sigh) At least we’ll have the pictures, and the memories…………….
There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home
Saturday night, I’m still bummed out and sad over the two kids that were shot down on the sometimes-mean streets of the Eastside a few days ago. Across the street from my house there is a memorial for a kid I knew since he was in diapers, shot to death a couple of years ago at 18 yrs old, over some bullshit. Sometimes I think about all the people I knew and grew up with who aren’t with us anymore due to violence, drugs, prisons, all useless bullshit. But then I see something like Art posted up this AM, positive action, good karma, pictures of his kids, I hope all our youngsters have a chance at enjoying the good things that life has to offer, family, friends, a creative and useful time here on earth.
When the blues start to rain down on me I can always count on the Les Blank film “Chulas Fronteras†to snap me out of it, Los Alegres de Teran, and the good life, no matter how humble, there’s no place like home.
The Rough Rider
Get your mind outta the gutter you freaks !!! This is a family site. Ok. So last week I paid a visit to the staff of the Roosevelt High newspaper, The Rough Rider. And lemme tell ya, these kids have moxie. I’ve ran into a few of them here and there, mostly at the classic because as a reporter, we can smell our own kind. The nature of my visit was to talk about how the media portrays undocumented residents and how I, as an undocumented resident, use the media to champion my crusade. That’s what I should have talked about, but when I get the spot light I tend to trail off. In fact, the whole time I was there I spent it talking about my life experiences, how IÂ hustle my writing and other adventures I’ve lived through.Â
EASTSIDE MEMORIES: Who Remembers?….
Lalo’s Place. Lalo Guerrero’s Eastside nightclub on Chavez & Marianna Ave. Here’s a look at what some special Eastside places look like today…..
Carwash Compadres
Assumption youth group, Boyle Heights (1970s)
My parents met in the early 70s when they were both active members of the Assumption Church youth group and choir. They never left the tight-knit group as some of the members were their own siblings and became lifelong friends and compadres.
When they got married in 1977, several of the kids from the group got all dolled up and joined the large wedding party. Thirteen couples! I think my mom was still sore about not having a quinceañera.
Late the next year, my parents welcomed their first son, Danny. Of course, he had to be baptized. Danny’s padrinos were los Padilla, a couple my parents had met and befriended in the youth group. He was baptized at Assumption, as were the rest of us kids even though our home parish was in Hacienda Heights. They were now more than friends, they were compadres.
Growing up, I saw the youth group members — whom my parents called los Marcianos — frequently for birthday parties and camping trips. Somewhere along the way, the visits became less frequent. The last time I saw many of the Marcianos (save for my tÃo Johnny, seated in red) was for my Madrina Bertha’s funeral five years ago. Los Marcianos and their now grown children gathered at a church in Lincoln Heights for the Mass. They recreated the choir of their teens and early 20s, but this time the songs were much sadder. It was quite the bittersweet reunion.