Novice Helps to Win Affordable Housing
It was anger that finally overcame the fear and turned Mauricia Miranda into a leader.
The 44-year-old native of Mexico and mother of nine children said she was afraid at first to even talk with the Anglo men in dark suits who represented the wealthy landowners planning to rebuild her downtown neighborhood.
But anger over the prospect of losing her home gave Miranda the will to speak at countless meetings in humble church halls and glass-walled high-rises during the past two years, pressing developers to promise more and better affordable housing in the proposed Central City West project.
On Tuesday, the Los Angeles City Council approved the project, which owes much of its affordable housing provisions to Miranda and her group, United Neighbors of Temple-Beaudry. The group represents residents of the mostly Latino, blue-collar neighborhoods west of the Harbor Freeway.
“We learned we had rights and we learned how to fight,” said Miranda, president of the group, during an interview at her home Wednesday.
Despite the language barrier--Miranda and many of her neighbors speak only limited English--the group emerged as a formidable presence. Because of their efforts, the plan approved this week contains twice the number of affordable dwellings that developers of the project had proposed.
As important as the number of affordable homes promised--about 7,000--is a provision that requires developers to have them completed by the time the existing neighborhood homes are torn down.
“Mrs. Miranda is as tough a negotiator as you will find in any business deal,” said George Mihlsten, an attorney and lobbyist for one of the project’s landowners, SP Co. “She is tenacious and knows what she wants for her community.”
SP Co., Ray Watt, Tutor Saliba and other developers will build about 18,000 luxury and affordable dwellings, as well as public parks and 25 million square feet of commercial and retail development during the 20-year span of the project.
The Central City West area is bounded by the Harbor Freeway on the east, the Hollywood Freeway to the north and Olympic Boulevard to the south. The west side of the project is marked roughly by Glendale Boulevard and Witmer Street.
Some of the area’s aging frame and stucco houses were knocked down to make way for development beginning in the early 1980s. The bulldozers scared Miranda and her neighbors who believed they were next to lose their homes. They said they worried that their neighborhood would vanish as others had in past city redevelopment projects.
“Our children grew up here and some were born here,” said Esperanza Llamos, another member of the group. “We were like a family and we wanted our children to stay with their friends.”
Neighbors started talking among themselves, then meeting in small groups and finally at a local Catholic church, the Holy Rosary Chapel. Someone called the Legal Aid Foundation for help. The group got a name, some stationery and the fight began in earnest.
“I was asked to speak after Mass in 1988 and people were all concerned about the threat to their community,” said Michael Bodaken, an attorney formerly of the Legal Aid Foundation and now Mayor Tom Bradley’s housing coordinator. “During the 1980s more than 2,000 houses were destroyed in the area and the first thing they wanted was to have the housing replaced.”
The group grew to include hundreds of members who would miss work or scramble for baby-sitters and miss evenings at home to attend meetings and appear at hearings, said Bodaken. They sought and received help from City Councilwoman Gloria Molina, who became an important ally.
“Basically, they were a monolingual, Spanish-speaking people who are now well represented by Molina, Legal Aid and the mayor in their struggle,” Bodaken said. “I think they’ve attained a sense of perseverance and a sense of their power politically.”
Miranda’s daughter, Iris, now a senior at Belmont High School, would often serve as the group’s translator, interpreting the comments of members in meetings with developers, as well as during hearings of the City Council and Planning Commission.
“Some of my friends said that I was trying to grow up too fast but I learned a lot,” said Iris Miranda. “Now I want to be a politician.”
Jesus Ortiz, 18, said that since he joined the group, “I learned that even a small group can make a difference.”
But despite their apparent victory, Miranda and others say they will not relax until developers make good on their promises, reserving their right to return to battle.
Reciting an old Spanish-language proverb, Miranda said, “In marriage, never give all your love or all your money.”
