Some Residents Never Find Exit From Project

With an average rent of $222 a month, staying at the Ramona Gardens housing project in East Los Angeles is relatively easy. Getting out is the hard part.

As residents of the 497-unit complex mourned last weekend’s death of 19-year-old Arturo Jimenez at the hands of sheriff’s deputies, they were remembering not just a neighbor but a member of la familia-- one of the many people who have spent most of their lives in the oldest city-run housing project.

Jimenez’s mother had long talked of moving her six children away from the gangs, drugs and graffiti that are facts of life at the 32-acre community just above the San Bernardino Freeway in Boyle Heights. But as she quietly cried next to two lighted Virgin of Guadalupe candles at her kitchen table Monday, Elva Jimenez said that is only a dream.

“Many times I’ve wanted to leave,” said Jimenez, 40, who first rented her two-bedroom apartment in 1975. “But I’ve learned to accept it here.”

Throughout the sprawl of gray and pink buildings, many decorated with colorful murals dedicated to the struggles and pride of Mexican-American life, residents vented their frustrations about the way they say law enforcement agencies disrupt the neighborhood’s fragile tranquility.

Since Saturday, the mood at Ramona Gardens has been tense, as residents seek answers for what they believe is an unprovoked shooting. Posters announcing a public meeting with sheriff’s officials referred to Jimenez’s “unjustified death.” The headline from a Spanish-language newspaper was taped to a market wall: “East L.A. Rebels.”

Although the project is in the Los Angeles city limits, sheriff’s deputies patrol the perimeter and frequently enter to confront members of Big Hazard, the project’s omnipresent gang whose moniker, “BH,” is scrawled on everything from trees to garbage cans to street curbs. Housing Authority officers also cruise the neighborhood looking to thwart trouble.

“I love my homeboys--they’re part of me,” said one member of Big Hazard, drinking a 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor and standing next to a mural exhorting residents to “Pray for Peace in the Barrios.” “But the police come in here like they’re another gang, like they’re our rivals, and (mess) with us.”

The graffiti recently spray-painted on one apartment wall are even more pointed: “If sheriff kill, so can we.”

Jimenez--an admitted gang member whose nickname, Smokey, appears throughout the project--was fatally shot by a sheriff’s deputy Saturday after a confrontation that was sparked when someone threw a beer bottle at a patrol car. A melee erupted, with 300 residents squaring off against about 75 sheriff’s deputies and Los Angeles police officers.

Sheriff’s officials say Jimenez provoked the shooting by assaulting an officer, taking his flashlight and knocking him unconscious. But residents who witnessed the incident dispute the story, contending that Jimenez merely asked a deputy why he had struck one of Jimenez’s friends who had gathered to celebrate a neighbor’s birthday that night.

“They just shot him without any warning at all,” said Viola Burciaga, 18, who threw the party for her mother. “The cops got off with an attitude.”

To help residents cope with their hurt, the directors of L.A. CADA, the project’s drug and alcohol center, prepared to offer free grief counseling for any of Ramona’s 2,140 tenants. Brenda Wiewel, the clinical director, said she was particularly concerned that some youths might deal with their pain by turning to violence.

“The kids here are really needy,” Wiewel said. “It’s like this is their whole world. They don’t know about a lot of the places others take for granted.”

Jimenez, in fact, had left the projects several months ago to live with an aunt in Baldwin Park. But he had been back in recent weeks to work as an extra in a movie about barrio gangs, according to his girlfriend, Christina Vargas, who has lived in Ramona Gardens all of her 18 years. She said he wanted to use the money to buy a car and move, maybe to Sacramento.

“He wanted to get out of here, somewhere far away, where he could work and do good for himself,” Vargas said. “No one wants to live here all their life.”

Many, however, end up doing just that. When Ramona Gardens celebrated its 50th anniversary in June, officials found residents who had been renting for as long as 40 years. On doorsteps, chatting with neighbors or watering their small, well-tended gardens, are families with 15, 20 and 25 years in the project.

“It’s too hard to live here,” said Norma Nunez, 26, who grew up in Ramona Gardens, moved out of her parents’ apartment and is now raising a third generation in a unit of her own. “But I think we get used to it.”

Indeed, for many of the project’s families--97% of whom are Latino--living in Ramona Gardens means making the best of a bad situation. Children ride bicycles through the courtyards awash in the colors of laundry drying in the breeze. A garden hose wrapped around a metal post serves as a makeshift swing.

A hand-lettered sign on the door of the Ramona Gardens Recreation Center advertises a $12.95 trip to Knott’s Berry Farm for children over 12. Men sell watermelons and bananas from produce crates on the sidewalk.

“All people do is hear about the bad,” Vargas said. “Life does goes on.”

On Monday, however, the signs of life were anything but ordinary. Along Lancaster Avenue, friends of Jimenez set up a table on the sidewalk to collect donations for his family. The amounts were written on a ledger next to a candy jar; $5 was the largest, 15 cents the smallest. One person left a sack with several bags of macaroni.

“It’s for the homeboy that got shot,” said a salsa singer known as “Star Man,” who was urging passersby to contribute. “We’re all familia , you know, a family.”