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In Case You Missed It: Making Our Neighborhood, the Magazine, is back!

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In January of this year, City National Bank (CNB) was fined $31 million by the U.S. Justice Department, which successfully argued that from 2017 to at least 2020, CNB consistently denied Black and immigrant applicants in Los Angeles County for home loans at a significantly higher rate than white applicants. Additionally, according to the Department’s briefing:

“City National only opened one branch in a majority-Black and Hispanic neighborhood in the past twenty years, despite having opened or acquired 11 branches during that time period. And unlike at its branches in majority-white areas, City National did not assign any employee to generate mortgage loan applications at that branch.”

The event underscores how important it is for communities to assess the enduring legacy of redlining in our cities so that more people like those Black and Latino applicants can account for their part of those $31 million. To this end, it’s my pleasure to announce the return of Making Our Neighborhood, by Samanta Helou-Hernandez and J.T. the L.A. Storyteller.

In March 2021, we published Making Our Neighborhood: Redlining, Gentrification and Housing in East Hollywood, making nearly 300 copies available for order online and selling out in a little over two months. Today, we’re thrilled to announce at least 50 new copies of this labor of love. Like before, copies of Making Our Neighborhood will be available on a first-come, first serve basis through jimbotimes.com.

Making Our Neighborhood: Redlining, Gentrification and Housing in East Hollywood (2021).

Why bring back the magazine now?

Since the magazine is not handled or owned by a major publication company, copies of it are not easy to come by, so over the last two and a half years we’ve had to gently turn away folks interested in purchasing a copy. This second run is for those folks, as well as for others who’d like to take a peek into the rich stories that make our neighborhood.

Our surprise second-run is owed to the generosity of the Heart Mountain Wyoming Foundation, which recently held the first official exhibit honoring the stories of the Albright-Marshall family and their Japanese American neighbors in the J-Flats neighborhood adjacent to Virgil Village. The magazine will be available at the same price it was during our first run at $35.

Whose stories are featured in the magazine?

The magazine features original reporting by both of us, including articles on some of our first encounters with gentrification along Virgil avenue, as well as with terms such as “redlining.” It also features photography from This Side of Hoover and Jimbo Times, and a 4,000 word essay from J.T. on future efforts for housing in East Hollywood.

What is gentrification? And is it still affecting neighborhoods today?

According to the National Community Reinvestment Coalition (NCRC): “The term ‘gentrification’ was first coined in the 1960s by British sociologist Ruth Glass (1964) to describe the displacement of the working-class residents of London neighborhoods by middle-class newcomers. From its inception, gentrification has been understood as a form of neighborhood change, resulting in the displacement of incumbent residents of one social class and culture by another more affluent class, linked with an increase in property values.

Today, neighborhoods across L.A. continue facing gentrification as extremely low-income–and much less–public housing remains out of reach for the vast majority of residents, thus leading mostly to new, market-rate housing, especially in formerly redlined areas, that is entirely unaffordable for working-class people and thus ultimately another instrument in pushing them outwards.

Protestors with the L.A. Tenants Union march against gentrification and rent hikes in the Pico-Union district.

Who is the publisher behind Making Our Neighborhood?

Our magazine is independently published by Samanta Helou-Hernandez and Jimmy Recinos, also known as J.T. the L.A. Storyteller. All funds go towards supporting our ongoing work as journalists. 

J.T.

Excerpts from Zev [Yaroslavsky]’s Los Angeles

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Zev Yaroslavsky, the former L.A. City Councilmember (CD-5) and former L.A. County Board Representative (District 3), was first elected to office nearly 50 years ago at the age of just 26 years. He would serve as an elected official for nearly 40 years, retiring in 2014; in 2016, he became the director of the UCLA Luskin School of Public Affairs, where he has remained since.

Yarloslavsky’s memoir is a story replete with his commentary on various ongoing political issues in L.A., including the city’s notorious lack of affordable housing, Proposition 13, rent control (RSO), the 1984 Olympics and L.A.P.D., and even L.A.’s slow-growth movement.

At a talk at Kohn Chapel recently, Yaroslavsky noted that, “There are people who weren’t even born…halfway through my career who are now writing revisionist histories about the things that I was involved in. And I’m not gonna get into an argument with them, but I want to make sure that my side of the story is in print, and people can take it or leave it.”

Below are 10 excerpts from his book for your consideration. You can also hear more from his side of the story in his recent appearance on former L.A. City Councilmember Mike Bonin’s What’s Next, Los Angeles Podcast.

On L.A.’s political climate at the time of his election (1975)


“To be sure, there were problems galore. The city was grappling with rising crime, property tax rates, and rents. Neighborhood groups were angrily pushing back against unwanted development and traffic congestion that was eroding their quality of life. Black people, Gays and other marginalized groups were bitterly protesting their treatment by the Los Angeles Police Department, and a long-simmering dispute over busing and school integration was boiling over.”

On Property Taxes in California before 1978


“At the conclusion of the town hall meeting, one elderly widow approached me, and the ensuing conversation has been etched into my memory ever since. She showed me copies of her 1976 and 1977 property tax bills. The ‘76 bill was for $1,500, an amount she could barely afford, but the ‘77 bill rose to $7,500, a five-fold increase. “I’m going to have to sell my house. I’m going to have to leave the home in which my late husband and I raised our family,” she said. “I don’t want to leave. Where will I go?” She didn’t want to leave her church, her doctors, and her social network. It was a crushing blow. This story was playing out in hundreds of thousands of households across our region.”

On the impact of Proposition 13


“Until 1978, property taxes were the principal source of funding for schools, counties and cities. After Proposition 13, however, there weren’t enough tax revenues to pay for all three. Amid lengthy wrangling in Sacramento, the state took over much of the funding for education, averting a breakdown of the California public school system. This was a seismic change. At the same time, the chastened legislature returned a portion of the $7 billion State surplus to local governments, to help them adjust to the new reality.”

On implementing Proposition 13 locally


“Remaking the budget was hard, the pressure was intense, and the stakes were high. But we made it work. The experience, you’ll excuse the expression, was taxing. It was seared into my psyche for the rest of my career. But there were glaring inequities built into the new law that bedevil California to this day. Longtime homeowners would enjoy a much lower property tax than a neighbor who purchased an identical home next door years or decades later. And thanks to a legal loophole, many new commercial property owners were not taxed based on the purchase price, avoiding a substantially higher tax. Over the years, calls to correct that inequity have proven politically too hot to handle. In November 2020, a State constitutional amendment that would have ended this exemption was narrowly defeated by California voters.”

On Prop. 13’s negative impact on communities of color and future families seeking to become homeowners


“Despite the approval of alternative fees and taxes, local government never fully recouped the financial losses caused by Proposition 13. Adopting budgets became an annual struggle to make ends meet, and vital social, capital, and operational investments were deferred or never made. The consequences fell more heavily on economically and racially marginalized communities, further exacerbating the structural inequities that plague our society.”

On opposition to Rent Control in L.A., including within his own district


“I told them that I understood their concerns. But more than 23,000 voters, many of them renters, elected me and I knew first-hand the financial hardships they faced because of never-ending rent increases. I had knocked on their doors and felt their pain. I was not going to sell them out.”

“Although I was an outspoken advocate for rent relief, the main credit goes to Councilman Joel Wachs for his leadership on this issue. He took on rent control as one of his core causes. His intellect, political acumen and perseverance made him the leading political force behind what ultimately emerged as the city’s landmark Rent Stabilization Ordinance (RSO). Pressure grew for a solution when it became clear that most landlords had no intention of passing on rent savings to tenants. Mayor Bradley, who had not previously spoken out on the matter, finally called for “dramatic action” to halt what he termed “outrageous” rent increases. As a result, the council passed a rollback and moratorium on rents in August 1978. The following year, after a furious battle, the City Council renewed the RSO. It did so each year until it approved a permanent law in 1982.”

“The new [Rent Control] law also exempted all apartment buildings built after June 1978, addressing the argument that rent control would discourage new construction. At the time, it seemed like an easy concession to make in order to get a permanent law on the books. Because of this exemption, however, the tens of thousands of new rental units built in Los Angeles over the next four decades were not subject to rent control. So, what were once “new” units, are today largely unaffordable to middle and low-income renters.”

On L.A. apartment buildings being converted into condominiums in the late 1970s and early 1980s


“I authored legislation putting conditions on conversions, allowing them only in planning areas where the rental vacancy rate was greater than 3 percent. In those days this was considered the equilibrium point between a rental housing shortage and a surplus. We also required owners to provide relocation assistance to renters who could not avert displacement. Still, the conversions continued. They contributed to a higher rent burden and increased poverty in segments of Los Angeles’ elderly population. Some of the most vulnerable tenants had to choose between rent and food, between rent and medicine. It was a dreadful predicament that continues to plague Los Angeles to this day.”

“Los Angeles faced a rent crisis not over the supply of housing, but over the supply of affordable housing, according to a 1981 report by the Rand Corporation. ‘What Los Angeles has, along with most of the rest of the United States, is a double-digit price inflation that increases the cost of producing housing services, and therefore increases rents,’ the report said.”

J.T.

I ASKED THE BLUE HERON (2017)

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To come to terms with one’s status as a survivor is to relive the moments that nearly ended one’s life. To collect those moments and offer them to the world is to relieve their weight on one’s mind so new possibilities in one’s life may take shape. Lisbeth Coiman, an Afro-Venezuelan poet and writer, has embarked on this process in a particularly relevant reading journey for working-class people in cities like Los Angeles, especially for migrants from Latin America.

All across the streets of central, east and south Los Angeles are people unsheltered, overwhelmingly Black, but also substantially Latino, lying on the curb through summer heat, and lingering like abandoned cattle throughout the day. When I noted to someone recently that according to the L.A. Homeless Services Authority, the official count of people living as such this year was upwards of 70,000, they gave me a higher estimate, which I found more credible: “It’s probably more like 200,000,” they said.

I wonder, for a moment, how many of the 200,000 in Los Angeles are survivors, or people who’ve suffered physical, mental, and other abuse at some point in their lives. In my work with incarcerated and formerly incarcerated youth, I’ve come across more than only a few victims: teenagers whose parents were drug abusers, or teenagers who were molested by their family members at an early age; teenagers with inherent learning disabilities who were clearly discriminated against at schools before they were discriminated against in courtrooms, and teenagers who likely acquired learning disabilities as a result of abuse at home.

Lisbeth Coiman is also a survivor, whose first book, She Asked the Blue Heron, unwinds a mental and emotional journey for the author as she seeks to face a mental health battle on her terms and for her healing, to which the reader is invited. At 239 pages, by means of skillfully arranged, quick-moving chapters, Coiman’s book offers lifelines for any reader maneuvering through their own mental health battles at home, with family members, with lovers, and in the work of building a career. Coiman’s book also traces the process before, during, and after migration, although some notes should be made on the terms of migration today.

Continue reading “I ASKED THE BLUE HERON (2017)” →
The book cover for Mike the Poet's Letters to My City, published in 2019

Letters To My City (2019)

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Through a tremendous last couple of weeks between the Los Angeles Review of Books workshop, the new Los Cuentos Book Club, and more for your truly, I just finished Mike the Poet’s L.A.’s Letters to My City. By the turn of the final page, I both see it and hear it. Sonsken’s ‘letters’ are not just prose, but also songs from the heart to all comers. Most of all, they’re a tribute to those who’ve been here, as Sonsken shows no fear celebrating L.A.’s Black, Indigenous, Asian, Native & Latinx roots. His book can thus be thought of as an invitation for poets, writers, and anyone interested in uplifting this city and keeping its history sacred.

Sonsken’s writing also consistently understands that he’s not the guiding hand, but that his is one led by the voices of others, those around him who uncover or pay heed to the roots. It comes off as a round-table discussion, a gathering of minds from across L.A., but abundant especially with folks from the South and East sides, as well as with folks from less discussed “L.A.” like Long Beach, Oxnard and even Cerritos and the OC. It is a call for Los Angeles’s artists and all creators to come together with major respect to the city, to the communities and stories which form the heartbeat of this sometimes totally cruel, sometimes surreal town. Los Cuentos sees this, and I look forward to passing Mike’s book along to the next generation of historians with major visions for our city.

Towards the end the book also leads to more questions. For one, I found myself reflecting on reparations awarded to Japanese-Americans in Los Angeles who faced internment. In a closing vignette on Little Tokyo’s history and a Buddhist temple in the area Mike writes:

A key component of Japanese religion and culture is the idea of ancestor veneration, essentially the idea of gratitude to your family and specifically appreciating one’s ancestors.

I thought then of the enslaved, and those whose lives were uprooted and taken by genocide and U.S. imperialism. I seriously wondered: where is the discussion in L.A. on reparations for African-American, Native, and also Mexican bodies? These are our ancestors, and there are more, in and even beyond America. I believe Sonsken would agree for a need to come together and discuss this, and that, at least in L.A., his book is certainly one way to start.

J.T.

Five Times David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest FAILS

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(Pandemic in Los Angeles: Day 15)

In an effort to write about something other than the Coronavirus for a moment, even if it’s just one moment, I’m now on page 592 of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. This means I’ve got just a little less than 400 pages to go before completing the late author’s famous magnum opus. If I can keep up with my reading schedule, I should spend no more than two weeks from today finishing the legendary novel.

David Foster Wallace was a brilliant writer and thinker whose non-fiction I really enjoyed before his fiction, but I’ve actually got quite a few issues with Infinite Jest. The vast majority of reviews hail the work as pure genius, but today it’s clear that such reviews are of a different time, and mostly written by white generation X-ers like Mr. Wallace himself. This makes it so that as a millennial Latinx blogger from Los Angeles, I’ve got a different take to share. So here are Five Times David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest FAILS:

1. When the book is highly unreadable. Sure, the epiphanous literary oases that make up each “chapter” (or Sierpinski triangle) of the novel read musically for book-worms or lovers of Dead Poets Society everywhere, but at some point they tend to muddle the author’s point more than clarifying it, and this is not helped by the author’s titanic footnote excavations or “side-explanations.” As a result, it takes nearly 400 pages into the novel to get a firm sense of who’s who and just where the characters of Infinite Jest may be going. And I get it. Wallace wanted to challenge his readers in a critical way, demanding their full and undivided attention during what he rightly saw as an era of mass distraction. He was prescient for seeing how reductive and repetitive American pop culture was becoming in its numbing of attention spans everywhere, but how much did he really need to pontificate about aerodynamic theories as divulged at elite institutions like his book’s Enfield Tennis Academy’s? In 2005, during Wallace’s famous speech at Kenyon College, at one point during his lecture the author skips through his own lengthy descriptions, saying “etc, etc., [I’m] cutting stuff out because it’s a long ceremony.” At many moments throughout Infinite Jest, it feels exactly like one of those “long ceremonies” that could use some cutting out.

2. When the book is totally White and from the Mid-West, meaning that yes, it frequently enjoys throwing racist jabs at minorities. The year was 1996. Nirvana and MTV ruled the billboards, ratings, and t-shirts. Black superstars were either “latchkey” kids from New York or South Central L.A., while “Latinos” were basically Mexicans “randomly” spread throughout the states (according to the dominant pop culture). Infinite Jest, despite frequently being called “ahead of its time,” offers virtually no alternative reading of these groups’ contributions to American culture, instead relying on stereotypes like “n-words and spics,” as much as any other cheap film during America’s beloved 90s era. But ask these types of groups today if treating their culture as such was as grossly reductive then as it is today, and yeah, it was grossly reductive then too, and only stands out more now.

3. When the book treats women in its plot really, really badly. In 2020, three years after the rise of the #metoo movement–and despite nationalist white guys in tandem insisting otherwise–treating women in pop culture as objects serving mostly for men’s barbarities is by and large fundamentally unacceptable, worthy of the utmost scrutiny. As with the part about minimizing Black and Latino characters in its story, this is another area where Infinite Jest was actually not only NOT “ahead of its time,” but waaaaay privileged and condescending. This also demonstrates the first point about the writing “going on and on” in a way that’s not only unnecessary, but downright obnoxious. A case in point, in one sequence of Infinite Jest, Wallace describes an abortion for one of the many side-characters in truly harrowing detail, presumably to give us “an example” of his Ennet [Rehab] House’s many dysfunctional characters. But what purpose does the detail serve? Is it supposed to be like gore in a horror flick? It comes off as indulgent. Moreover, the fact that treatment of women throughout the novel in this way is almost never discussed in the vast majority of the book’s reviews also speaks to the “trade-offs” overlooked when reviewers praised Wallace’s literary genius.

4. When the book enjoys ridiculing disabled people. Readers need to look no further than the constant reminders of Mario Incandenza’s difference from from others as the prematurely-born and oddly figured member of his family, which tend to run on in a way that isn’t just expansive, but bordering on sadist. Take the following passage, for example, when Wallace describes the one romantic experience of Mario Incandenza’s life:

“[A girl] was trying to undo Mario’s corduroys but was frustrated by the complex system of snaps and fasteners at the bottom of his…Velcro vest [which supports his disabled figure]…it was when [Kent] wrapped one arm around his shoulder for leverage and forced her other hand up under the hem of the tight vest and then down inside the trousers and briefs, rooting for a penis, that Mario became so ticklish…”

As a reader, on the one hand, I know that Wallace wants to endear readers to Mario’s extraordinary physical makeup, which in spite of its difference, doesn’t keep Mario from having a strange sexual interaction like any other teenager out there. On the other hand, idunno, it feels like Wallace is–as in other sequences–exploiting the character’s “defects” too. I’m not sure if it’s Wallace just doing Wallace, or if he’s being humorous at the expense of someone else’s “deformity,” which brings up another question I don’t recall being posed to Wallace by popular reviewers: why so many “disabled” characters? If Wallace was in an editing room today, I’m sure he wouldn’t get off as easily with such literary devices just because at the end of the day the writing is simply so witty.

5. When the book blames poor people for their own damn problems. Although the “middle class” kids who make up the Tennis Academy’s student body are all grotesque personalities in their own way, they mostly get away with this for being young and really smart. By contrast, when it comes to say, a Randy Lenz, who’s got issues that go way back to his (Lenz’s) working-class background, when Wallace makes psychoanalytic exhibitions of these types of characters’ experiences with such things as incest, rape, child abuse and other issues that tend to face people in poverty, it doesn’t come off as “just witty,” but as narcissistic, and not in an ironic or ‘gotcha’ kind of way. This makes it so that at many points in Infinite Jest, Wallace seems to view urban Boston as just another petri dish of lost or abandoned characters the way just another white kid in a Michigan basement would view “dirty city-life,” his literary prowess notwithstanding.

(5. Continued) But what about, say, white-collar types who are also addicted types and not far off from the city, exploiting those same “lost or abandoned” types in their own grotesque ways when they aren’t promulgating pop-culture to keep the American population dormant to America’s inequalities? Why not expound on the idiosyncratic mannerisms, of say, an Alan Greenspan or Bill Clinton? Wallace does NOT achieve a “fair-share” of doling out his psychoanalysis even with say, “President Gentle,” who is only a “background” character, the descriptions of which only make him a shallow political figure and nothing else, even though presidents in American history tend to play a major role in “shaping” pop culture. And Enfield Tennis Academy–for all its cruel, elitist tendencies–does NOT come off as an “equal” counterpart to Ennet House’s “trashy” makeup, so the book falls short of juxtaposing these groups for Wallace’s larger point about American culture’s wayside decline.

Okay, even with these gripes, is the massive 1,100 page book still worth reading? If you don’t count the footnotes, the novel is not that long, weighing in at more like 981 pages. And yes, it’s still worth reading. Despite these and other shortcomings, Wallace’s writing still challenges readers to imagine farther-reaching, more complex prose as a form of expression. And no matter what verdict different readers might give Infinite Jest, it’s worth pointing out that rather than breaking the rules, Wallace’s book bends them, expanding the bandwidth of literature overall to elasticize the reader’s ability to imagine different ways of expressing ideas.

I just would chill on all the boundless praise that earlier reviewers have tended to give the book, but would still recommend readers to be challenged by its virtuoso achievements. I would also say it’s an especially approachable book during these times, when literary oases have never more been needed to get away from the news. Speaking of which, that’s enough of a retreat. Let’s get back to our coronavirus woes.

J.T.