The Nuts and Bolts of Fighting Crime

It’s the kind of hardware store that’s hard to find these days.

Screws, nuts and bolts are loose in bins rather than packaged in plastic bags. And if you mess up your home repair job, you can keep coming back for the owner, I. Bravo (he prefers the initial), to patiently lead you out of the morass, step by step.

The only difference between Bravo’s Hardware and those in more affluent places--”white boy neighborhoods” as Bravo calls them-- are his loaded guns--two pistols an arm’s length away from the cash register and a shotgun tucked away toward the rear.

His store, at 1439 W. Jefferson Blvd. in South-Central Los Angeles, is in an area hit hard by crack cocaine dealers, and all that they bring to a neighborhood--shootings, murders and robberies. “There is no way you can get me into this store without the guns,” Bravo said.

Recently, however, he took a longer-range action to protect his store and customers. The well-armed Bravo joined his neighbors and, although skeptical, helped a community group in its block-by-block fight against crime. He worked with them in getting the city to close a nearby liquor store that police said is a hangout for crack cocaine dealers.

Three weeks ago, the city ordered the place closed. Last Saturday, Bravo joined members of the group, the Community Coalition for Substance Abuse Prevention and Treatment, to celebrate the event.

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That’s where I met Bravo.

He’s a solidly built man of 40 who, with his bushy handlebar mustache, resembles his hero, Pancho Villa, the Mexican revolutionary leader. Villa’s picture is on his wall.

Bravo literally built his business a few faucets, hammers and nails at a time.

He moved here from Mexicali, Mexico, 23 years ago and went to work at a hardware store on Vermont Avenue. Then, 12 years ago, Bravo went into business for himself and he bought the place on Jefferson. “My homeboys helped me with loans,” he said--$1,000 here, $2,000 there, enough to pay rent on the store and to stock it in a minimal way.

He’d sell a few faucets, and buy more. He and his wife have four children, including a grown son preparing to be a firefighter and a daughter working as a medical assistant in Beverly Hills.

At Bravo’s store, crime is a constant worry.

A couple of years ago, a robber, armed with a pistol, grabbed one of Bravo’s customers. Bravo pulled out one of his guns, but couldn’t get a shot in without endangering his customer. The bandit wounded the customer and fled.

Another time, two bandits cornered Bravo as he left his store at night. He drew his pistol, and they ran away.

Bravo began looking at the causes of his troubles. Sure, he had guns to protect himself, but what was bringing the criminals to his block?

With other merchants and residents on the street, he began looking at nearby Lucky Liquor, which police said had become a hangout for drunks, crack and designer drug dealers, and other criminals.

Some of the residents were members of the Community Coalition for Substance Abuse Prevention and Treatment, formed several years ago by Latino and African American neighborhood activists who believed that the large number of liquor stores in South Los Angeles attracted violent crime, drug use and alcoholism.

The coalition went after Lucky Liquor. Residents demonstrated in front of it. Petitions were signed, demanding that the City Planning Department discontinue the store’s permit to operate.

Joseph Kwon, 26, whose parents own the store, denied that the place was a criminal hangout. “In this neighborhood, people love the store,” he told me.

Associate Zoning Administrator Daniel Green didn’t agree. On Sept. 30, he issued his order: “I hereby require the discontinuance of the liquor store use, effective immediately.”

The bureaucracy moves slowly. This week the store was still open, although Kwon said he expects to be closed by the end of the month.

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Bravo and I stood around his hardware store the other day, talking about the causes of crime. Whenever I write about crime, I end up with the feeling that the problem is insoluble, so I wondered what this tough veteran of West Jefferson Boulevard had to say.

Bravo figured that crime wouldn’t stop until “the white boys,” his term for the people who run L.A., take an interest in his neighborhood and others like it.

The liquor stores are part of it. “You go to the white boys’ neighborhood and you don’t see those liquor stores,” he said.

Bravo understands that the problem goes deeper than that. It’s one of money, of investment. Bravo has a $100,000 loan, at 15.9%. Now that interest rates are dropping, he wants to refinance it, but the banks won’t lend him the money. The building is too old, they say, the neighborhood too run-down. That’s why there are no pharmacies around him, he said, or small markets or other productive businesses that would provide jobs and stability.

A lot of my readers will say that this is softheaded nonsense. They ought to meet Bravo. He’s definitely not a softheaded kind of guy.