Trial by Fire : Thanksgiving Stirs Mixed Emotions in Baldwin Hills Residents Burned Out by Arson

“In the old house we always made a big to-do,” Ima Jeane Lawrence said of her family’s Thanksgiving holiday. “We’d have a lot of friends in all the time.”

The 68-year-old widow was standing on the sidewalk of Don Jose Drive in Baldwin Hills with her son, Vincent Hollier, next to what had been the “old house.” It was one of 48 destroyed in a July 2 arson-caused fire that also damaged 18 other homes. Another six homes were damaged in a second fire Oct. 3.

This Thanksgiving holiday is a bittersweet one for Lawrence and many others whose lives were turned upside-down by the blazes. “Because of the fire, this is the first time the family has not been together for Thanksgiving,” she said.

She and a friend would go to Las Vegas, she said. Hollier, 37, and another son, Azar Lawrence, 33, who had also been staying at the house at the time of the fire, would join friends.

“It’s traumatic,” she said. But at the same time, their house is the first of those destroyed to be rebuilt in the ravaged community. Work began about a month ago.

According to the city Department of Building and Safety, 30 permits have been issued so far either for repair or reconstruction as a result of the two fires.

Nearly five months after the fire, a few have decided not to return and will sell their lots. Others said they have been hampered by delays in collecting from their insurance companies, in getting low-interest loans through the Small Business Administration to supplement reconstruction costs, or in dealing with architects and contractors.

“The house is better. This is better than we ever dreamed of,” Hollier, a computer programmer, said, sounding impatient with his mother’s holiday nostalgia.

The new house, scheduled to be completed by March, has been changed to include a second story, he added, to take advantage of the area’s view of the city. “This is great,” he told his mother.

Her son’s behavior was typical of the period since the fire, Lawrence said, and was probably one of the reasons she was among the first to start rebuilding. Though she “went to pieces” when she first learned her home had been destroyed, she added, “My sons kept prodding me. Both of them said, ‘It’s done, now let’s move on.”’

Hollier had made everyone inventory the contents of the house the very night of the fire, she said. The family found a contractor the next day, hired a lawyer to prod their insurance company, and had architectural plans within a month.

Others have not moved so quickly or been as fortunate. “It’s a very slow process. I thought I’d be back by Christmas,” said Larkin Teasley, who lost a home on Don Milagro Drive. Instead, his architect has only just submitted preliminary plans.

Among those who have decided not to rebuild is Jack Stevens of Orange, who owned a house on Don Carlos Drive as “an investment. It was in escrow when the fire happened,” he said recently.

The sale fell through. “We went ahead and sold the lot,” Stevens said. “It was just one of those things.”

The lots sell for less than $100,000, according to one real estate agent, substantially less than the estimated $250,000 value of most homes in the area, which is heavily populated by middle- and upper-middle-class black families.

Another couple, Milton and Vivian Schertle, have also decided not to return. The wife, who was burned on 50% of her body and had to undergo skin grafts, has only recently been released from the hospital, Schertle, 78, said, and is still in “great pain.” He drives her to physical therapy every day.

“I’d like to go back but it’s not practical,” Schertle said. “There are so many details. I’m kind of tired.” So they have bought a house in Ladera Heights, he added.

Regarding the lot on Don Carlos Drive, “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll sell it or something.”

Due to difficulties in the rebuilding process, their former next-door neighbor, Mary Word, said, “If I had to do it over again, maybe I wouldn’t go back either.”

Her husband, 82-year-old Abbie Lou Word, is blind and had nearly been trapped by the fire. Mary Word had not been home at the time, but two schoolchildren went to check on her husband and escorted him out.

Her experience since the fire, she said, has been a series of contrasting encounters with people who tried to take advantage of the couple, and people who have gone out of their way to be generous.

She had trouble with a public adjuster who negotiated with her insurance company, persuaded her to inadvertently pay double for his services--$30,000--and then disappeared, she said. She then had problems with her first contractor, who was paid more than $5,000, did no work, she claimed, “and then wouldn’t refund my money.”

Those problems are being resolved by a lawyer, she said, and a second contractor is now about to start construction on the couple’s new house.

Since she is a real estate agent and has bought and renovated several properties in the past, her troubles surprised her, she said, and she believes she was made vulnerable by the trauma of her loss.

She also for a period went blind, she added, and thinks this was stress-related, too. “Seven to eight days after the fire, I went completely blind,” she said. “I went to my specialist, he said he didn’t see anything wrong. Pretty soon it went away.”

Abbie Lou Word was a familiar figure on Don Carlos Drive because he took walks every day and often passed time chatting with his neighbors.

He said he still passes the time taking walks, but now they are in nearby View Park, at the home of a friend.

The friend, Mary Word said, was the first to show them kindness after the fire. He made a point of finding the couple at the disaster center, she explained: “He drove up and said, ‘I’m going to take you home.’ ”

Since then, friends, fellow church members and even tenants from former properties have already given them “over $3,000 cash,” she said, and still continue to do so.

“Every day people call and say ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ ” Mary Word added. “People come and bring us $25 or $50.” Even a man from Guam, who had known Word in his days as a Navy mechanic, sought them out.

“I never knew people could be so compassionate,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot.”