A City Divided : North-South Split in Montebello Hurts Business, Shapes Politics

It has happened to real estate agents like Bob Foster so many times he can no longer deny that Montebello has a reputation.

He usually hears about it during a conversation with a prospective home buyer. Foster has just the place. Lots of space. Clean. Good neighbors. In south Montebello.

“South Montebello?” the client replies. “But I don’t want to live in south Montebello. What have you got up north?”

The suspicion that there is a difference between north and south Montebello hangs over the city like a specter that hurts business, shapes politics and makes the future of the community uncertain.

“It’s peculiar,” Foster said. “We’ve always deplored it, but the image has always been there. It just keeps popping up. I’ve been living in Montebello many years and some of the best residential areas are in the south. They are the quietest, the best-kept, they tend to sit on bigger lots.”

Yet ever since Montebello became big enough to stretch over Whittier Boulevard and into the rolling hills to the north, there has been a sneaking suspicion among many that the difference between the south side and the northern hill-dwellers is more than simple geography.

It is one of the most important, yet difficult problems city leaders must tackle, because there is as much myth as fact and as much politics as history.

A few things are clear:

* With the exception of two parcels of land immediately north of Whittier Boulevard, along the Rio Hondo, all land zoned for industry lies south of Whittier Boulevard.

* Homes south of Beverly Boulevard cost anywhere from $25,000 to $40,000 less than homes north of Beverly Boulevard, according to Lee Blair, a real estate appraiser who covers much of Montebello.

* There are more rental units south of Whittier Boulevard than north, and apartments north of Beverly Boulevard tend to be more expensive, therefore shutting out lower-income renters, realtors say.

* With the exception of recently elected Councilman William M. Molinari, all council members have lived north of Whittier Boulevard. And although critics argue that there have been few candidates from south Montebello, all 42 council-appointed commissioners live north of Whittier Boulevard.

* It is also true, however, that per capita, the crime rate tends to be lower south of Whittier Boulevard, that most of the city’s parks are located there, as well as some of the town’s larger homes.

Those are the facts. But the heart of the challenge the City Council members face lies in reconciling differences that have existed long before they took their seats in City Hall. These differences are often no more than a passing feeling that everyone, especially north Montebellans, believes the north is better than the south. Most times it is a sense of injustice that is hard to pinpoint and harder to explain. Sometimes it is not.

Gary Acosta felt it 10 years ago when he asked his north Montebello friends if he could bring a friend from south Montebello to a party.

“They said, ‘Don’t bring him. He lives in south Montebello,’ ” Acosta’s mother, Irma, recalled.

The rift between the two parts of the community emerged like a concrete wall when the city’s right to exercise the power of eminent domain became an issue two years ago.

“Eminent domain took this city and split it in half better than any ax,” said resident and south-side activist Ray Broguiere. “It’s not going to be forgotten overnight and maybe we will never be able to cover up the scar. But I hope we can at least heal the wound.”

Just when north and south Montebello started drifting apart no one can say for sure, but David Firman saw it coming 40 years ago as a young graduate student.

To the passer-by, the outward difference between the homes and businesses on the north side of Whittier Boulevard and those on the south is striking. North of the boulevard, homes are perky with red clay tile roofs; there is a new mall, a golf course, one of Southern California’s largest discos, big-name grocery stores, City Hall and the police station.

Trucking firms, bringing with them rumbles, roars, oil stains and exhaust fumes, occupy much of the south. There are more apartments, the homes are older, the business fronts faded and tired-looking.

The scene is a more modern version of what UCLA graduate student Firman witnessed when he wrote his thesis in 1949. Back then, Montebello was just beginning to grow into the triangular boundaries determined by its incorporation in 1920. It was more than 90% Anglo, with most of the Latino population living south of Whittier Boulevard. Montebello was a mecca for many Latinos on their way up and out of east Los Angeles. People started building homes on the spacious agricultural lots. What resulted was a hodgepodge of homes, truck gardens and flower fields. What was once land used solely for agriculture became the city’s largest area of industrial development with easy access to both the Santa Fe Railroad and the Union Pacific Railway. When the hills to the north, once covered with oil wells, were abandoned by oil companies that moved on to more productive sites, a burgeoning commercial and residential area was born.

Firman looked over the city with an academic’s perspective and saw a problem--the streets.

More than anything else, the haphazard street pattern inhibited the growth of a cohesive community, Firman wrote.

Forty years later, his pronouncements have, in many ways, proven correct, although not altogether for the same reasons. The streets have changed. There are now three major streets that cross the north-south length of the city--Montebello Boulevard, Maple Avenue and Vail Avenue.

But there was no way Firman could know that a 10-year-old boy named William Molinari would grow up to be regarded as the single largest cause of the division between the north and the south.

Molinari moved to Montebello in 1950. Today, the electrical and building contractor makes his home on a one-acre lot on Jacmar Drive that some say is one of the most valuable in Montebello. It is also from this home, Molinari’s detractors say, that he exploited the issue of eminent domain to establish a political base. Molinari, who was a city councilman and mayor in Montebello for five years, started a political organization known as South Montebello Area Residents Together in the winter of his defeat.

The group met several times to address problems of crime, gangs and drugs, Molinari said. But, says one community observer, the group was not making any political headway until April, 1988, when eminent domain landed in its lap and they detonated it.

SMART became the most vocal of grass-roots organizations that accused City Hall of trying to walk all over south-side residents to pass an issue that could result in the city condemning property to make room for new development.

The city’s plan to condemn and redevelop portions of southern Montebello was, for the people who live there, final proof that city leaders who live and work north of Whittier Boulevard did not care about them. The campaign turned what was just a nagging itch of neglect among some south-side residents into a full-scale rash, pitting them against some of their neighbors to the north.

“Molinari scared the hell out of people,” one critic said. “That was the beginning of the north-south split. It was all one man’s ambition to get reelected, and he succeeded.”

In reality, critics say, geography and time are the only differences between north and south. The rest is all myth, they say. “South Montebello is older,” Councilman Art Payan said. “That is the only difference.”

Molinari said he is surprised his critics would give him credit for having the power to create a rift between the north and the south and to rally the 4,000 people who voted against eminent domain.

“I didn’t move into south Montebello to exploit an issue,” Molinari said. “I made a big commitment when I bought my property. I am simply doing what any other resident would do. I was protecting my interest.”

Broguiere, who is a Molinari supporter, defended the new councilman against his critics.

“He stirred up a hornet’s nest, but the nest was there all along,” he said. “I don’t know if this town can ever be put back together. Maybe it’s just a dream. I don’t know.”

The City Council, naturally, is more optimistic.

“I definitely believe that any division can be healed simply by having a City Council that works together for an entire town,” Councilman Payan said. “I think every member of this council is capable of that.”

For now, many eyes are on Molinari. He created the division, they say, and it is up to him to take it away.

BACKGROUND Eminent domain should have died on May 2, when Montebello residents voted down the referendum that would have given the Community Redevelopment Agency the power to take land for redevelopment in south and central Montebello. Instead, it became a major issue in the November City Council election, say some residents who live south of Whittier Boulevard, a bitter reminder that sometimes the needs of south Montebello residents are ignored by City Hall.

Vital statistics: North/South Montebello (dividing line at Whittier Boulevard) Population North: 34,537 (1980 census) South: 17, 791 Zoning North: Except for two parcels immediately north of Whittier Boulevard, all land is zoned commercial and residential. South: Contains almost all of the city’s industry. Real Estate North: A 1,700 square foot, four bedroom-two bathroom house on Wilcox Avenue and Beverly was appraised at $283,000. South: A home with the same dimensions at Beach Street and Greenwood Avenue recently appraised at $225,000. According to realtors and appraisers, homes in North Montebello are valued from $125,000 to $150,000 more than those in the South. Crime: Residential burglary North Montebello (per thousand residents) Jan./Jun. 1988: 4.04 Jan./Jun. 1989: 4.56 South Montebello (per thousand residents) Jan./Jun. 1988: 4.14 Jan./Jun. 1989: 3.74 Source: Montebello police and planning dept., real estate appariser Lee Blair