In Memoriam: Royce Schaffer Neuschatz

The old zoo picnic grounds in Griffith Park is one of those enchanted enclaves that hints of Los Angeles’ unique setting and history.

Cradled in a steep, oak- and elderberry-encrusted canyon beneath dramatic Bee Rock and above the joyful merry-go-round on the eastern slope of the 4,000-plus acre park, the grounds invite picnicking and exploring.

Towering, fragrant eucalyptus shade a comfortable carpet of grass rising up to a cliff of man-made stone caves that once was the habitat of caged bears when the zoo was located there.

The fake caves lend a sense of place and playfulness to the grounds; a touch of make-believe in a lush, natural landscape where one can pause and appreciate the park.

This inviting site was an appropriate place for a recent memorial service for Royce Schaffer Neuschatz, who died early this month a young 56, after a lingering battle with cancer.

The grounds and the nearby Bee Rock and Fern Canyon nature trails were among Royce’s many favorite haunts.

A former Los Angeles City recreation and parks commissioner, a planning consultant and teacher, an environmentalist, preservationist and community activist, Royce was one of those so-called “tree huggers.” She embraced the label with a characteristic broad smile as she embraced a rare sense of responsibility to do what she could to save Los Angeles from itself.

As a commissioner from 1978 to 1984, Royce was in the thick of the battles to stop Griffith Park from becoming a dump site, Elysian Park a land bank for the police department, and Barnsdall Park from being lost to a fumbling cultural affairs department.

Generally, she mourned the neglect of parks and playgrounds while questioning uncaring bureaucrats, arbitrary budget cuts and cynical politicians.

Now that Royce is gone and does not have to worry about having her position in the diverse efforts she was involved in, I can reveal that she was one of my most valued sources. I trusted her to tell me exactly who was doing what and why in the continuing compromising of the city’s dwindling open space that has marked the Bradley maladministration.

But her telephone calls informing me of yet another case of municipal malfeasance never was in self-interest, or self-aggrandizement, as are some I receive. Instead, the motivation always was how a particular controversy could be put into perspective and publicized, to better inform and educate the public, so that some valued park land could be saved.

To this end, Royce was one of those rare commissioners who did not pick up a check for sometimes attending a meeting downtown, only to, in turn, write out a matching check to a particular politician’s reelection campaign. She considered her job a responsibility, not a reward, prompting her to tour the parks, meet with local residents, confront indolent city workers and generally challenge the status quo.

For her efforts, Royce was unceremoniously dumped by Mayor Bradley in 1984. The mayor, it was said, wanted the city commissioners to be more politically responsive or at the least, responsive to requests from his friends and business acquaintances.

While a few good appointments survived this process, the city has suffered. And then citizens wonder why planning reforms are so slow to be implemented, the public housing program is in shambles, design guidelines are bent out of shape, landmarks are allowed to be demolished and parks continue to deteriorate.

From my perspective, it is because concerned citizens--people who care--are being cut out of the process, as was Royce.

Undaunted, Royce continued to serve her city, as an involved member of the Los Angeles Conservancy, as an inspired teacher at Cal Poly Pomona, as a guiding force in the Tree People and generally, as a community activist.

One of her last involvements was as an organizer of People for Parks, an effort to form a citywide alliance to elevate the issue of open space on the current local political agenda.

But Royce was not an advocate of open space for open space alone, or for saving a landmark just for its own sake, heretical as that may sound.

She had a marvelous way of interpreting everything in terms of people; how open space, accessible, inviting parks and playgrounds, and the preservation of landmarks can generate a sense of values, place and pride for all those who come into contact with them. She understood well how important those senses are to an evolving city.

As those who reminisced about her at the memorial service attested to in different words and tones, Royce did not only hug trees. She hugged people, and life.

Royce is gone, but somehow one likes to think her spirit persists, in the good works and good feelings she leaves behind.

That spirit was very much present in the old zoo picnic area the other day, and it is with that in mind I feel a fitting memorial to Royce would be for the Recreation and Parks Commission to name the area after her.

But remembering Royce’s concerns as a commissioner and then activist, and with her spirit very much in mind, I propose the dedication go beyond just putting up a sign, and that a fund be set aside to make sure the area be properly developed. This would include restoring and regenerating plantings, turning the caves into an engaging play area for children and maintaining the grounds.

Those interested in supporting such a memorial for Royce should contact the Los Angeles Recreation and Parks Commission, 1300 City Hall East, Los Angeles 90013; (213) 485-5508.