Understanding the Riots Part 4 : Seeing Ourselves : LOS ANGELES : Let us commit and persist.
On my way home on the last Wednesday of April, still numb from the news of the verdict, I stopped at the shopping center at Western Avenue and 18th Street to pick up some bread and milk. There was an eerie feeling in the air. Everyone seemed to be moving with a sense of frightened urgency, near panic. The Sav-On was closed, and so was the Viva Market. As I got back into my car, I saw a brother standing at Adams and Western, waving a giant red, black and green liberation flag. I heard a shout: “There’s a riot going on because of the Rodney King verdict.” My heart shifted gears. My blood raced. Damn, it had happened.
I rushed home, turned on the TV and there it was, helicopters overhead and horrifying visuals below. It was Los Angeles--my city--home of South-Central, the Watts Towers, Disneyland, the Greek Theater and the Hollywood Bowl, Dodger Blue and Laker Gold, the make-believe capital of the world. But now it was producing a violent new spectacle.
Had it been a movie, it would have been a sequel, “L.A. Rebellion II.” The first rebellion had a large, mostly black cast and was concentrated in the black community and caused substantial damage to a fairly confined area of L.A. The sequel, however, had a large, multiethnic cast. It encompassed the entire city and caused extensive property damage. It took almost twice as many lives and let it be known there are no safe havens in Los Angeles. “L.A. Rebellion II” devastated my adopted home, a city rich in diverse cultures and, now, with a rich history of defiance.
My love affair with the city started when I arrived at the age of 18 from Alabama. My first address was the 28th Street YMCA. From there I began to learn the city and develop my social graces. I caught Ray Charles at the Hollywood Bowl, cruised down the Crenshaw Strip and listened to jazz at Marty’s on Broadway. I romanced on the sands of a moonlit Venice Beach and, in an experience I’ll never forget, saw Mahalia Jackson and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at the L.A. Sports Arena. Each of these experiences deepened my feelings for L.A. I demanded to be a part of the city and have access to all it had to offer.
But my most vivid memory is my first encounter with the LAPD. I had saved and bought my first car. I remember being stopped by the police and asked when I had last been to jail. Insulted, I proudly replied, “I’ve never been to jail.” One officer went to the squad car, came back and said, “There’s a warrant for your arrest.” Within a minute or so I was arrested, handcuffed and taken to jail on suspicion of robbery. I was booked, fingerprinted and, eventually, released. Mistaken identity . I later learned that that was customary procedure for establishing a record on young black males. And so, like most black males, I was not surprised by what happened to Rodney King.
All of my life, I’ve heard the cliche, “History repeats itself,” and I have often wondered why. For the good times I can understand repetition. But when it comes to the sad, painful and horrifying times, history’s not too smart.
After watching history’s recent repetition, I was finally able to understand why. History repeats itself, but only when you allow it to. Now, people are asking, “Can anything good come out of ‘L.A. Rebellion II’?” I say, yes--but only if this city wakes up and realizes that plastering the ceiling won’t stop the leak in the roof. Watts has taught us that the coming days will be challenging. But being a die-hard optimist, I hold on to hope. It will be a grand opportunity for the city of L.A. to restore its spirit and vitality. Let each and every one of us make a commitment within our spirit to be just and fair and work together to rebuild L.A. better than before. Let us commit and persist. It can be done, and we will do it. After all, L.A. is our home.