Hospital Project a Bitter Pill for Those Pushed Out

Although he has a panoramic view of Downtown L.A., much of what Lorenzo Canales sees from his front porch doesn’t please him.

Canales--a semi-retired mechanist who lives in Boyle Heights--can see Dodger Stadium off in the distance. He dismisses the place because he and his mother were forced to leave Chavez Ravine back in 1953 when the city wanted to build low-income housing there, but it later gave the land to the Dodgers.

He also has a bigger-than-life view of the sprawling County-USC Medical Center, which is just across the street from his modest stucco house. And, like what happened more than 40 years ago, he may lose this home, too.

His dilemma, and those of more than 200 families near the medical complex, has an unsettling effect on the Eastside.

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I visited Canales and his wife, Hortencia, the other evening to find how he could lose his home yet again.

Officials say he must give way to accommodate a $1.1-billion improvement project at the medical center scheduled to be completed by 2002. Without it, the Eastside institution will close. Federal and state officials, citing safety concerns, have insisted on the improvements. A streamlined 2.1-million-square-foot hospital is planned to replace the aging General Hospital and other outdated facilities.

The project has drawn support from County Supervisor Gloria Molina and other area leaders because it meets the continuing health-care needs of the Eastside, where blue-collar Latinos cannot afford private medical assistance. These politicians don’t want to consider the possibility of allowing County-USC to shut down.

“No one is in favor of that,” one East L.A. activist said.

But there’s an uneasiness about all of this. In making that decision, Molina and others have decided to support the elimination of about 200 homes and 37 majestic-looking Canary Island pine trees for the greater good of the project. It means the end of a place the locals call Marengo Heights.

That has a special kind of resonance in the Eastside, where whole neighborhoods have disappeared before to make way for public projects. Among those that come to mind are the construction of the Santa Ana, Pomona and Long Beach freeways, the Sybil Brand jail for women and previous expansion at County-USC. The loss of community identity and control led Molina and others to successfully fight a state proposal to build a prison near Boyle Heights.

East L.A. doesn’t need another public project dislodging residents.

At his home on Cummings Street, Canales says he understands the need for the work but distrusts the politicians who are asking them to leave.

“They need the hospital, I don’t deny that,” he says. “But I don’t like their way of doing it. People like me are losing their homes. It’s a rip-off.”

He remembers the bitter experience of being told to leave Chavez Ravine after he and family members made improvements to their home on Lilac Terrace. Not only were they unfairly compensated for the home, he says, but they were told they weren’t even eligible for the public housing the city contemplated for the area.

“Can you imagine?” he asks in amazement.

Eventually, a private entity, the Dodgers, got the land, something Canales never accepted. “I’ve never even been to Dodger Stadium after all these years,” he proudly announces. “Why should I?”

He left the ravine for Cummings Street and came to enjoy its family atmosphere and the spectacular views of the city. Before long, the county began buying up homes in the area for previous expansion work. In Canales’ view, another private entity, this time USC, seemed to be benefiting from the loss of homes--a charge the university hotly denies.

“That ain’t right,” he bellows. “(County officials) never tell you the truth.”

Project supporters point out the benefits of the project and the promise of fair compensation for homes. Canales, who says he’s heard all that before, counters with questions about why the improvements can’t be done on land already owned by the county.

In the end, Canales may be placated by a fair price for his home. The same may be true for other residents. But the uneasiness is likely to remain.

“I’m tired of seeing (us) pushed around,” Cummings resident Alberto Juarez Jr. says.

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I was hoping my own uneasiness over the residents’ plight would go away, but it didn’t. Especially when Canales revealed that his greatest joy of living on Cummings was raising his four children and nine grandchildren on the street.

The new hospital is needed. But there are times when the price is too steep and, too often, people like Canales are the ones asked to pay it.