Lost neighborhood on exhibit
1940s photos record memories of enclave of Mexican-Americans
By Thelma Guerrero-Huston • Statesman Journal

May 30, 2008
It was the McCarthy era, and the Mexican-Americans who lived in Chávez Ravine had no idea the political fear and unrest that had gripped the nation would be the death knell for their tight-knit community.


Nor did Seattle photographer Don Normark, who, in 1948, stumbled upon the small Los Angeles enclave, visiting the area repeatedly and snapping hundreds of images that provided rare windows into a poverty-stricken world unaccustomed to attention and which would soon be lost to the ages.About 45 of those photographs are on exhibit at the River Gallery in Independence.

The gallery will hold a reception from 7 to 9 p.m. Saturday, when Normark will speak on his experiences chronicling life in the secluded village. The event is free and includes wine and hors d'oeuvres.

"The pictures are beautiful. They bring back memories of all the people that lived on the ranches I grew up in," said Independence resident Elena Pena, who grew up in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. "But it also makes me angry to know that these people were taken advantage of by big government and big money. In the end, money talks."

Normark, who was 20 at the time he captured the images, was invited to show his collection at the gallery by Dan Cannon, one of the gallery's owners and a longtime friend who grew up with Normark.

"He makes a statement with these pictures," Cannon, a former chair of Western Oregon University's art department, said about Normark's work.

Considered a shantytown and an eyesore by outsiders, Chávez Ravine's 300-plus acres had been earmarked as a prime location for a low-income housing project by the Los Angeles City Housing Authority.
"The whole thing was an underhanded deal by the city of Los Angeles to get rid of these people and to take their homes," Normark, 80, said from his home in Seattle. "Using the power of eminent domain, the city took their land and demolished their homes."

The low-income housing plan included promises to the residents of the area's three neighborhoods — La Loma, Bishop and Palo Verde — that they would have first crack at the new homes.

But the housing proposal soon moved to the forefront of a decade-long battle, which would see opponents of the project employ anti-communist paranoia.

In 1952, those opponents targeted Frank Wilkinson, the Housing Authority's assistant director who supported the project, accusing him of un-American activities.

The accusations prompted questioning by the California House Un-American Activities Committee, which Wilkinson refused to answer. As a result, he was sentenced to one year in jail and fired by the city.

At the same time, Los Angeles City Council members were meeting with Walter O'Malley, who was seeking a new home for his Brooklyn Dodgers. In the end, what was to have been a low-income housing project, and new homes for the residents of Chávez Ravine, instead became Dodger Stadium.


"It's the tragedy of my life, absolutely," Wilkinson can be seen saying in a 2005 documentary film spawned by Normark's photos. "I was responsible for uprooting I don't know how many hundreds of people from their own little valley and having the whole thing destroyed."

The photo collection also gave birth to a book, "Chávez Ravine, 1949, a Los Angeles Story," written by Normark and released in 1999.

A decade after the photographer first captured the neighborhood's cultural heritage
, residents were sent letters telling them they'd have to sell their homes and vacate the land. Some resisted, others sold. The majority received little or no compensation.

More than half a century later, Normark sought out the former Chávez Ravine residents and arranged to show them his photo collection.

One black-and-white photo captures the image of a young girl being fitted in a white dress and veil, preparing for the sacrament of confirmation. Another shows a sad-looking little boy wearing shabby clothes, with slumped shoulders and a questioning look on his face.

Yet another shows a man walking home on a winding path draped by fading sunlight, giving Chávez Ravine an enduring place in the sun.

"We still meet once year," Normark said. "They're people I'll never forget."

tguerrero-huston@StatesmanJournal.com or (503) 399-6815

I guess after they got rid of the slums of Little Mexico they changed their minds about having pink and purple homes .



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