A Requiem for Chaka--and Daniel

Think back to September, 1989. A sleepy time, not much happening in the city. Out in the projects of downtown L.A., a teen-age kid is hanging around the family apartment.

This would be Daniel Bernardo Ramos. A sweet boy, by most accounts. He’s small for his 17 years, with calf eyes and a great affection for his skateboard. Daniel is the kind of kid who would ride a skateboard to the bathroom.

Anyway, on this evening Daniel’s brother strolls by. He, the brother, has some spray cans and plans to decorate a few blank walls in the neighborhood. Daniel can come if he wants.

So out they go, and Daniel puts a paint can in his hand for the first time. He wonders what he will write. Then it comes to him. He will use the nickname that his friends gave him several years before. “Chaka” is born.

That was the beginning of one of the most remarkable careers in graffiti history. A career that apparently ended only last week. As you may know, Chaka is currently cooling his jets in County Jail, having been busted while writing his name on one more light pole.

Before the end, it is estimated that some 10,000 Chakas had been scrawled on everything from freeway signs to store windows. This number is all the more impressive when you realize that Daniel’s career lasted only 15 months. That comes to 25 Chakas per day, month in and month out, with no time off for vacations. During this period, Daniel surely did little else beside travel through our neighborhoods and write advertisements for himself.

I know about Daniel’s beginnings as a graffiti artist because he told me. Not in person. On videotape. Some months before he was busted by the Los Angeles Police Department, Daniel was approached by the RTD police and asked if he would tell Chaka’s story. Since buses were not targets of Daniel’s spray cans, the interview would be friendly. Daniel said OK; he would spill.

What’s revealed on that tape is surprising. The boy who has befouled thousands of urban landscapes shyly nibbles M&Ms; and presents himself as courteous, quiet and determined. This is no common goon but a young man absorbed by a quest.

His work day starts at 11 p.m. and ends at 5 a.m. He sets out from home camouflaged as a kid headed for algebra class, never forgetting his glasses. You can fool the cops that way, Daniel says. In his knapsack he carries not books but seven spray cans--five black and two silver. This is enough firepower for 85 Chakas.

Also in the knapsack is accessory equipment as complete as any doctor’s bag. There are paint nozzles and glass scratchers for the right effect. There are color-coded freeway maps and a directory of all Chief Auto Parts stores.

The last item is maybe the most comic. The Chief is Daniel’s store of choice for stealing paint. Since he steals so much, he knows he can’t depend on any one branch. So he chooses a different store each week from the directory.

This is a kid fascinated with detail. He knows you don’t put up 10,000 Chakas without having your act together. So he uses devices such as a list of Southern California neighborhoods. It’s an organizing tool. The neighborhoods are divided into “to do” and “done” categories.

If you live in Marina del Rey, Studio City or Irvine you have been “done.”

If you live in Venice, El Monte or El Segundo, not to worry. Chaka has plans for you.

“There’s a lot of competition out there,” Daniel says on the tape. “It’s all about who gets around the most.”

As for why a kid would spend most every night from 11 p.m. to 5 a.m. dodging cops and urban predators, Daniel has his answer. By creating Chaka, he has created himself. Chaka/Daniel is now everywhere. When he overhears someone mention the notorious Chaka, Daniel says, he gets “real excited.” It makes him want to write even more.

And the nights spent on the streets of a dark, sleeping city have brought other rewards. He meets people, has adventures and plays his game with the cops.

“It brings memories,” he says, and nibbles another M&M.;

You wonder if Daniel is thinking about those memories in the slam. The prosecutors want to nail him for 48 separate counts and say they plan to put Daniel away for a while.

Was Chaka worth it? This is a question that would seem laughable to most of us.

But we are not Daniel. And somehow I get the feeling that for this kid, even now, the answer may not be obvious at all.