A LOOK AHEAD * The harbor community was a separate city until it joined L.A. in 1909. Now, frustrated by what they say is neglect from City Hall and buoyed by a state law that makes secession easier, residents dream of . . . : A Return to an Independent Wilmington

In its prime, the Don Hotel in downtown Wilmington was a four-story brick monument to the good life. William Randolph Hearst maintained a suite. Bing Crosby was a frequent guest, as were other prestigious patrons in the 1930s who spent the night before departing overseas on cruise ships docked blocks away on the waterfront.

Today, the front lobby, once bustling with activity as doormen greeted wealthy visitors, is an empty shell. The front desk is boarded up, except for a small window covered with an iron grill. Most of the hotel’s guests are transients or homeless people who have received county vouchers to spend the night.

Ten years ago, a community development plan was floated to renovate the landmark Don into offices. But it never got off the ground floor. Recently, the city launched a new project to try to turn the hotel into senior housing. But many community activists think it is too late.

Instead, they would like to see the hotel torn down and replaced with their very own City Hall.

The push for a City Hall is part of a reignited movement in Wilmington to make this harbor community, annexed by Los Angeles in 1909 to gain access to the port, an independent city again.

For years, Wilmington has felt that its tax dollars have drifted 25 miles away to downtown Los Angeles, rarely returning in the same amount. Residents complain they can’t even get the most basic services, such as street cleaning, at the same time that port-related businesses and three oil refineries generate millions of tax dollars for Los Angeles.

The rallying cry for independence has been: Keep Wilmington money in Wilmington.

“Nothing changes in this community, except it gets worse and worse,” said Fernando Gamboa, 58, standing in front of the Maya Mexican Restaurant, where the smell of tacos and burritos permeates the eatery he and his brother have owned for more than two decades. “If we kept our own tax revenues, we could clean up this town.”

“I can tell you, it is better if we separate from the city of Los Angeles,” said hairstylist Eduardo Gomez, 33, trimming hair inside Lalo’s Barber Shop. “The city doesn’t do anything about the gangs. There are many problems here.”

Wilmington’s long-stagnant move for cityhood got a slight boost in October after state legislation was signed that made it somewhat easier to gain independence. And with the new law has come the rebirth of the New Wilmington Committee, whose members had gone into hibernation for several years.

Wilmington, in its cry for autonomy, joins a clamor from like-minded communities such as neighboring San Pedro, the San Fernando Valley, Venice, Westchester, Hollywood, Eagle Rock and South-Central Los Angeles. They all feel forgotten by City Hall, community activists say.

City Councilman Rudy Svorinich, who represents the Wilmington area, lobbied for the secession legislation, noting that every community should be in charge of its own destiny. But he maintains that in recent years, Wilmington has gotten a good return on its tax dollars.

A new community center has been built, another community center is being constructed at Banning Landing, and most of the streets were recently repaved, Svorinich said. In addition, according to the councilman, most of the trees have been trimmed, $230,000 is being spent on playground equipment for the East Wilmington Greenbelt and a new gymnasium is planned.

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Wilmington, whose 60,000 residents are 90% Latino, is a largely dilapidated chunk of Los Angeles. It lies in the heart of one of the country’s most profitable and fastest-growing ports, but many residents point out that prosperity hasn’t rubbed off on the community. Instead, they say, the area is a prime example of urban decay, a residential nook ringed by an industrial wasteland.

Across the landscape are sprawled three grimy refineries. Yellow piles of sulfur are heaped next to a channel, spraying dust in the industrial neighborhood when the wind blows.

Shipping containers are stacked as high as small hills inside storage yards that loom next to neat rows of stucco houses. Years ago, many were located in nearby Carson until that community was incorporated in 1965 and prohibited container yards. Residents refer to one stack of containers as “the Matterhorn.” It abuts the Wilmington Historical Cemetery.

Residents are lucky if their streets are swept once a month. It is only in the last three years that Avalon Boulevard, the main artery through downtown, has been cleaned once a week.

One pocket of Wilmington is a nether world of 100 auto dismantling yards, industrial lots and makeshift shanties. Homeless people and crack addicts eke out an existence by salvaging metal to be sold at scrap yards.

Homicides in the area, patrolled by Los Angeles police from the Harbor Division station in San Pedro, have totaled 48 so far this year, compared with 23 for all of 1996. The rise is due mostly to gang wars, police officials say.

“Wilmington has been shortchanged from the day we joined Los Angeles,” said community activist and historian Bill Schwab, a resident since 1927. “When it comes to Wilmington, they always say, ‘We don’t have the money.’ One time I called City Hall, and they said, ‘Wilmington? You don’t belong to Los Angeles.’ ”

Years ago, Wilmington was an independent city founded by Phineas Banning, a young man from Wilmington, Del., who arrived penniless in California in 1851. He eventually started a stagecoach line, Southern California’s first railroad and the port. Wilmington, originally called New San Pedro, was incorporated in 1872.

But Wilmington and San Pedro voted in 1909 to become part of Los Angeles after officials wooed them with promises of improved schools, a police station, fire station and public library.

For many decades, Wilmington was a prosperous, middle-class community that was tied to the port. There was a flourishing downtown that had a JC Penney store, now occupied by a pawnshop, and several men’s clothiers.

But after World War II, things began to deteriorate. Old-timers say many longtime residents began moving out in the early 1970s. And it has been downhill ever since.

For decades, Wilmington has wanted to form its own city. But the passage of AB 62, which removes city council veto power over neighborhoods that want to break away, has ignited a spark of hope among residents determined to set their own course. Now, independence can be obtained with a majority vote in both the entire city and the area affected. A finding is also required that both the new and original cities would be financially sound.

The recently revived New Wilmington Committee, founded in 1988, already has established a “shadow cabinet” and divided the community into 12 City Council districts.

Earlier this month, it held its first town meeting to enlist residents’ support in collecting 2,750 signatures, or 25% of Wilmington’s registered voters, in order to apply to the Local Agency Formation Commission to study the financial feasibility of autonomy. Then it would be placed on the ballot for voter approval.

Inside the city-run Banning Recreational Center, under a ceiling of peeling tiles, about 35 people gathered on a recent evening like the framers of the Declaration of Independence, planning a strategy to break away from a government entity they say reaps hefty taxes from the area but gives very little back.

“This is no different than a man and woman getting a divorce, and it might be as bitter,” said Howard Bennett, an auto restorer and president of the New Wilmington Committee. “It is one thing. Money.”

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Wilmington figures it has nothing to lose with independence. Los Angeles gathers millions of dollars a year from the area’s three refineries as well as from the industrial complexes that dot the community. If those funds went into Wilmington’s coffers, residents believe that they could build a glorious city.

Residents compare their community to South Bay cities that control their own destiny. El Segundo, which has a refinery and 16,250 residents, operates quite nicely with a $29-million general fund. The refinery is one of the city’s top 10 sales tax producers.

Even Lawndale, which has only 30,000 people, gets along on a $7-million budget.

Councilman Svorinich warns that Wilmington residents should figure out the monetary advantages and disadvantages of independence before voting. The community might have to repay Los Angeles for nearly 90 years’ worth of infrastructure. “I’m sure there is a gaggle of lawyers who would be willing to discuss this,” he said.

But Wilmington residents figure they have nothing to lose. “We have nowhere else to go but up,” said Gertrude Schwab, president of the Wilmington North Neighborhood Assn. “I think this is the poorest community on the Pacific Coast.”