The Lion-Hearted Kids of Lanark Park

Before the disaster pro flew in from Florida, before the Salvation Army medical team came down from the Bay Area, even before the National Guard arrived to pitch a tent city, 18-year-old Luis Marroquin and a bunch of other teen-agers were coordinating relief services at Lanark Park.

In less catastrophic times, Marroquin helps run a youth basketball league at this recreation center in Canoga Park. This past week, he and the other burgundy-clad “Lanark Lions” were busy dispensing water, food, shelter and information to more than 1,200 quake victims who chose to camp outdoors as aftershocks continued to rattle nerves.

“I’ve got to tell you--these guys were really amazing,” says Bill Dusenbery, senior director of the Lanark Recreation Center. “If it wasn’t for the kids, we’d have had a lot more trouble.”

He was speaking of the kids from KYDS. The acronym stands for Keep Youth Doing Something. Usually the KYDS crowd gathers in Lanark Park to play co-ed softball. This time there was something more to be done.

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Exactly how it happened is hard to say. When Dusenbery arrived at about 8 a.m. on Jan. 17, the morning of the quake, he found that hundreds of people who poured out of neighboring apartment buildings had already gathered in the park at Lanark Street and Topanga Canyon Boulevard. “People were just in shock,” he said.

Dusenbery was the first authority figure--the man with the keys to the gym. He noticed that the newly homeless included such park regulars as former gang-banger Marroquin and others who belong to KYDS, a program designed to direct youth away from gangs and graffiti.

KYDS, founded two years ago under the auspices of Councilwoman Joy Picus’ office, was conceived as an alternative to hanging out with the local cholos. Police say Lanark, once a haven for drug dealers, is now safe for local families, in part due to the efforts of adults and teen-agers involved in KYDS.

To hear Marroquin and others tell it, Dusenbery didn’t deputize them. They deputized themselves. “We did it on our own,” says 19-year-old Sandra Carpio.

The way they talk, Lanark Park is their park. So the quake refugees--which included their own families--became their responsibility.

At first, all Dusenbery had was the emergency supplies on stock at the rec center--just some potable water and a first aid kit. The next day, more fresh water arrived. Sparkletts, Food 4 Less, Guerrero Tortillas and other businesses delivered emergency supplies. Sandra Carpio, her 17-year-old sister, Doris, and their 15-year-old friend Aleyda Panameno helped distribute the food and Pampers. Luis Marroquin disseminated information about Red Cross shelters and other services. His 12-year-old sister, Becky, helped clean up in the gym.

By Tuesday, the KYDS kids had donned their burgundy uniforms, with the word Lions emblazoned across the front.

Fearful of aftershocks, many families, such as the Carpios, slept on the cold ground those first few nights. The National Guard arrived with the tents on Thursday afternoon. The Salvation Army sent two people to help coordinate tent assignments. They trained the Lanark Lions to handle the chore, which required them to place 30 people in each tent and keep a record of which families were in which tents. That night, they worked past 2 a.m.

The Salvation Army arrived en masse later, setting up a health clinic and a food line. The National Guard brought in a camouflage-painted water tank to allow people to wash up in cold, cold water. The rule was simple: If you want a meal, wash your hands first. Doctors said 80% of diarrhea cases could be averted.

Jim Helms, a veteran of several hurricanes in Florida, had been flown in with 20 other Floridians to help coordinate services. Inside Lanark’s gym he set up a Disaster Assistance Center on Monday to help quake victims apply for loans and grants. Business, at least initially, was so slow that Helms was wondering whether victims here had already braced the long lines at Winnetka Park, where FEMA has set up its field headquarters.

“My function as manager is to keep victims in a calm, relaxed atmosphere,” Helms said. “We want to help get them back to a normal life. . . . We don’t want to make a more horrendous nightmare for anyone.”

This was, it seems, precisely what the Lanark Lions had in mind as well.

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Colds, diarrhea and stress--those are the biggest problems in this tent city, the Salvation Army nurses say. The other night, an aftershock caused one woman to faint. Nurses soon learned that she had lost two brothers in an El Salvador quake in ’86.

Even though many of their apartments have been “green-tagged” by building and safety inspectors, meaning they are safe to occupy, such fear is keeping people in the parks. “Their place starts shaking, they get scared, and they come back here,” says Maj. Darvin Carpenter of the Salvation Army.

Carpenter said he talked with 15 families whose homes had been “green-tagged”--but all were afraid to go home.

It might take rain to make a cracked but livable apartment feel safer than a tent. Sandra Carpio says many families would be back indoors but for the tents. Soon, Carpenter says, relief workers may start weaning people from services at Lanark by taking away tents and denying them free food.

The Marroquin family, it seems, has another plan.

“My mom is scared. She says she doesn’t want to be here,” Luis says. “We’re going to Texas.”

Luis, at age 18, isn’t sure what to do. The neighborhood that surrounds Lanark Park is, after all, his home.

“My friends, my homeboys--they’re all here,” he said. “My girlfriend’s here and everything.”

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.