A Path to Discovery : Forced Onto Surface Streets South of the Santa Monica Freeway, Drivers May Find Neighborhoods of Diversity and Change

As commuters have digested the fact that they have no choice but to come down from the trestles that for decades have carried them over the urban grid, many for the first time will glimpse an unfamiliar L.A.

During the past two weeks, people waiting for elevators, over dinner tables or in line at the supermarket have begun to trade routes and guarded shortcuts. They compare them like top-of-the-line consumer items, speculating over which will provide the best performance.

On one level, the region’s intricate freeway system “speedily” connected the city. But on another, it kept communities far apart. With the mighty 10 down, one Westsider says, moving south from Pico to Adams, “doesn’t mean crossing into another world. Now people have to see and talk to one another.”

As Angelenos travel thoroughfares north and south of the Santa Monica Freeway, through neighborhoods they haven’t seen for years or never before, the inconvenience could, some optimists believe, offer a long-overdue education about a rapidly altering region.

Cars became the mobile, air-controlled living room, the cushion from what thrived or died in a blur outside tinted glass. It’s human nature to stick to what one knows, but as time passes and gridlock intensifies, radio announcers are imploring commuters to divert from already heavily traveled Wilshire, Santa Monica and Olympic boulevards and to use the streets that lie south of the shattered I-10--Adams, Jefferson, Exposition--or its nearest northern corridor, Washington Boulevard.

In the first few days of the new commute, some considered the alternatives tentatively. The reservations were two-pronged: Some commuters, unfamiliar with certain stretches, felt a tinge of uneasiness, and some store owners and neighborhood residents considered the headache of more traffic, noise and air pollution on streets that have long remained an afterthought.

Those concerned about the traffic flow (and the safety of children who may play along the residential stretches of these boulevards) may find that the rerouting could pay off in other ways: long-overdue upgraded roads, street lights and possibly wider exposure and a new clientele.

And for those willing to stray from their well-beaten paths, and keep their eyes open, the results can quite possibly be far-reaching or at least edifying--from the richness of diversity to the long-term effects of neglect.

Cataclysmic events such as earthquakes only underscore how little some Angelenos know their city. Or how uncomfortable they are just trying to get to know it.

Case in point: After receiving directions that included a jumble of south-of-Pico surface streets and then a quick spin on the brand-new 105 Freeway, a woman thanked her old colleague but quipped, brow knitted: “I’m just afraid to go that far south. . . .”

In the first post-quake week, a salesman at a Westside Circuit City outlet said cellular-phone sales jumped to life.

“Although people are often surprised at how much they cost to buy, let alone to use them, we’ve sold a considerable number of phones,” he said of a 50% sales increase just days after the quake, and asking not to be identified. People observed that the system was operative after the quake when their home phones weren’t, he said. But, he added, there is also the safety factor: “My own wife now has to drive a different path to Pasadena. I want her to feel secure.”

Manuel Camargo, a spokesman for L.A. Cellular, concurred: “They primarily want them for peace of mind. . . . We’re starting to see a pattern. . . . Certainly after the riots of ‘92, we saw a distinct increase. After the earthquakes, we’re seeing another spike.”

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Levi Kingston, who heads the Jefferson Boulevard-adjacent Community Consortium, wants something done about perceptions. He notes that after the riots, more than two dozen events were canceled at the Shrine Auditorium near USC, and he is concerned about the long-lingering effect on bookings at neighboring venues such as the Sports Arena and the Coliseum.

Kingston says the riots ultimately tainted the surrounding community’s reputation: “So the question becomes, what are people around here--the powers that be--doing about it? To change the image of this area? Are they having an aggressive campaign? The answer is no. There hasn’t been any work done.

“It seems to me that the human-relation issues need to be raised now, as more commuters enter the area, because people will be in situations where their own fear can trigger situations.”

Some merchants along the new commute routes expect little but heavy traffic that will only congest their neighborhoods and contribute more wear and tear on already stressed streets.

“I don’t expect more business,” says Acie Sims, manager of Mr. B’s Box, a post office and stationer on West Jefferson Boulevard. “I expect even less. My regular clients, mostly older people are pretty shook up and staying home, while the new people are just on their way through.”

Although not blindly optimistic, not everyone is so hopeless about the arrangement. Ruan Sen Lei, owner of the Chinese Deli, says smilingly that increased traffic has translated into more business.

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With the bumper-to-bumper ride, more business comes not just into view, but into sharp focus. Stop to peruse Jefferson’s eclectic offerings: the First Church of Rasta, Dashiki Chili Hut, or Barry’s International Barber and Record Shop “featuring the latest in Calypso, Soca, Reggae, American and Funk.”

And the broad expanse of stately Adams Boulevard wears, like epaulets on its shoulders, not only the famous regal California Craftsmans, but a noble stretch of churches of many denominations, from a Polish Roman Catholic Church and Holman United Methodist to a sprinkling of Korean parishes.

Courtney Minors, owner of Kulcha Beat Records at Washington Boulevard and Harcourt Avenue, has a specialized business, featuring hard-to-find ska, rock-steady and reggae CDs, records and videos.

“We don’t depend on cars driving by,” Minors says, “but we do need more business in this area.” Minors, a native of Jamaica, says many artists have taken advantage of the ornate yet run-down storefronts and the relatively inexpensive square footage. “And that’s cool, but because they are hidden, it doesn’t really benefit the community. If we had a lot of businesses regularly open, it would be a Melrose.”

People are surviving, he says, “but we need develop a sense of community. Get rid of those bars. It makes the place look like a prison camp. . . . People look at the bars and say: ‘This must be a bad neighborhood.’ ”

Minors says he’s long been nurturing a plan that might have just found its time: to create colorful banners to hang down Southwest L.A.’s major thoroughfares that could coax passers-by to: “Bring your business HERE!”

“I don’t believe that people just gave up on this street,” he says, ringing up a cassette sale. “They just got scared.”

James Burks, director of the William Grant Still Cultural Center on West View Street, a half-block north of Adams, says that, in a way, the downed freeways and subsequent re-routings are a blessing: “People are finally going to see their ethnic community.”

Communities south of the I-10, he observes, have often been either overlooked or painted with a broad, dismal brush:

“Yes, people will realize that we need to upgrade these areas. Plant trees, not pour blacktop. But they will find out that the streets are not all burned out. There are lawns and houses. People don’t have to panic waiting for the light to change. They will realize that people are not being mugged or carjacked. We are all a working community. Children play in the yards. People walk their dogs.”

Burks plans to put signs along Adams, maybe assemble some street musicians to soothe commuters’ nerves as well as alert them to the Center, which presents rotating exhibitions, plays, concerts, art classes and poetry workshops.

“This city is culturally diverse, so why not promote that cultural diversity?” Burks asks. “It’s just as important for a city to have a cultural infrastructure. Hold it in higher esteem. These freeways insulated people. I think somebody is trying to tell us something.”