Protest, Poverty and Politics

Our man in Washington travels to the national conventions.

Michael W. Lynch from the November 2000 issue

(Page 5 of 5)

As we headed deeper into South Central on the second tour, something unexpected became clear. On the face of things, the area appears to be less of a ghetto than a suburb with small yards. It’s certainly short on parks and green space, but so is the entire city.

Don’t get me wrong: Most people probably wouldn’t choose to live there. The houses are small by today’s standards, although I saw some nice homes that reportedly sell for $120,000. But unless you are particularly scared of black and brown people, you wouldn’t fear driving through it. You may even get out of your car to buy something: Unlike Camden, there are plenty of wholly legitimate businesses in South Central.

The folks guiding us journalists seemed a bit sensitive about all the commercial activity. This seems like a pretty vibrant working-class community, I said as we rolled past auto repair shops, new gas stations, fast food joints, furniture stores, and places to cash paychecks. Mary Lee, one of the Shadow Convention’s tour guides, got a bit defensive. This may not be as gritty as some East Coast slums, she granted. But she insisted that compared to other areas of L.A., the neighborhood sucked. In particular, she’s bothered by the "mixed-use" nature of the area–industrial businesses and auto-shops are close to houses——and she assured me that many of the businesses were marginal and likely to fail. "Poverty is a relative thing," she told me, expressing a bit of ghetto envy. "People still need to feed a family here on $5,000 a year," she said, later adding, "Transit here is abominable."

Lee estimates that after the riots here during the 1960s, 70,000 to 100,000 jobs disappeared. By the time South Central erupted after the 1992 trial of the cops who beat Rodney King, the area was most distinguished by its number of liquor stores: 728 stores sold booze to the area’s 500,000 residents, compared to 280 in Rhode Island, a state with three times as many people at the time.

To give credit where it seems due, one reason South Central doesn’t live up to its wasteland reputation these days is because of the work that groups like this are doing to make the area more livable. Our first stop on the drug war tour was the Community Coalition, a group that started organizing homeowners to challenge the renewal of liquor store licenses after the 1992 riots. Now, I’m all for liquor stores. I like nothing better than to pick up a tall boy on the way home from work. I’m one of those people who drink out of a brown paper bag on the sidewalk. And I respect private property. But these folks claim not to spray random bullets at businesses. They target what they call "comfort zones" around "nuisance businesses." A representative of the Community Coalition explained, "It’s a place where you can pick up a woman, buy a 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor, and go to the Trojan hotel for $5 an hour, and they’ll give you a condom." One problem store even supplied cups with ice in them so customers could drink outside.

Solomon Rivera, the Community Coalition’s associate director, explained that the group operates under a version of social theorist James Q. Wilson’s "broken window" theory, which holds that minor breakdowns in civility and appearance (e.g., tolerating loitering and not fixing broken windows) fuel bigger problems. The group works with community leaders to identify businesses causing problems for neighborhoods. It’s a long process, and they first try to work with business owners before seeking a license revocation. So far, they’ve managed to get 40 businesses to convert from liquor to other products.

There are still many tough areas in South Central where the impact of drug and alcohol abuse is evident. Our last stop was a strip of Figueroa Street where motels that once housed traveling blacks denied service by white hotels (including jazz musicians who entertained in them) now house prostitutes and drug addicts. We stopped at the Palms Motel, which owner Kevin Pickett converted from a seedy motel to a nonprofit home for HIV-positive men from the neighborhood, some of whom have a roof over their heads for the first time in years. We met a 38-year-old former drug addict who’s been blinded by AIDS. While he’s lost his sight, he’s found God, and he’s feeling better than ever. "When I leave here I know where I’m going," he told us, leaning on his cane and clutching a bottle of laundry detergent in his other hand. "I like being here. I was able to start my life over again."

The impact of crack and heroin can’t be escaped on this stretch of road. Groups of addicts band together to rent rooms in the hotels across the street. They stay inside shooting and smoking drugs until they are broke and out on the streets again. Shootings aren’t uncommon; people do their business on the street. "Kids are forced to walk in front of people who are intoxicated and defecating on the street," said one man who grew up in the area.

Our visit was part of a pro-legalization drug tour, so I decided to ask these folks, the people who use and live among drugs, what they think about legalization. "I don’t think they ought to legalize them," said John Taylor, a 74-year-old drug counselor. Taylor showed me the deep scars on his forearms earned from the 23 years he spent shooting heroin. "Heroin makes you steal from your parents, your best friends," he said. "It’s a monster."

I broached the question inside, where another woman was talking to the entire group. She dodged the question, saying something about how her focus was on "harm reduction." A drug counselor said legalization would make neighborhood problems worse. I noticed Rush Limbaugh’s See, I Told You So on a bookshelf in the common room.

These unenlightened views upset a middle-aged man in our group. He tried to educate the drug counselor, a former cocaine addict, on the benefits of drug legalization. He seemed surprised when his logical arguments made little progress.

As we boarded the bus and headed back to the Staples Center, I realized that you never know what you are going to learn when you leave the office and head into the world. This guy learned that former drug addicts and individuals who live in areas where drugs are sold often don’t think they should be legalized. I learned that South Central L.A. is a large, vibrant, and diverse area. I say move there. The real estate is inexpensive, and it’s an area on the rise.