A Chip Off the Old Block

Motorists blazing down Hoover Street last weekend generally started glaring once they crossed 104th and had to start applying the brakes. As the milling crowds, firetrucks and road barricades pulled into view, drivers’ brows furrowed, tail lights flashed, and more than a few drivers heaved exasperated sighs.

But as the scene became clearer, frustration eased into pleased astonishment.

“Is this what I think it is?” asked the formerly annoyed Cliff Anderson as he parked his Jeep to get a better look.

It was that endangered species of American neighborhoods: the block party. Complete with barbecue, dancing, balloons, games and a few hundred shrieking children.

“I’m going to see if I can go get a burger,” Anderson said.

He wasn’t officially a neighbor, but Anderson got his burger. It was that kind of gathering and that kind of day, where 500 to 600 neighbors reveled in--poof!--instant community.

“We try to do this every two years,” said longtime resident, and venerated “neighborhood sweetie” Mabelle Pittman. “It’s old fashioned, but it brings people together.”

While neighborhood elders flaunted their moves in country line dancing, a younger group was judging who threw down the best dunk on a lowered basketball hoop. Some of the less self-conscious youths attempted to cross the generational line and do-si-do with their older neighbors. Most couldn’t keep up.

Parents and children alike groaned at the cheesy magic tricks performed by Ronald McDonald, long lines snaked around the food table, and a pair of older men looked at the “No Alcohol” sign with mild indignation.

At first glance, the South Los Angeles gathering matched the block parties that linger in society’s collective memory. Hamburgers and hot dogs roasting on the grill, neighbors socializing in lounge chairs, children downing soda with a you-don’t-get-this-chance-every-day urgency.

But more was at stake than good times. After spinning Bob Marley and Wyclef Jean, the disc jockey pushed partyers to sign petitions. A short walk from where Ronald McDonald performed magic tricks, the Urban League had set up an information booth. And although the local congresswoman, Democratic Rep. Maxine Waters, didn’t show, the local assemblyman, Democrat Rod Wright, did.

Before, after and even during block parties, the 108th and Hoover Neighborhood Assn.’s leaders work to close nearby polluting businesses, board up abandoned drug houses and make scores of phone calls to local law enforcement and government officials.

“Communities are like the leaves on a tree,” Pittman said. “If you don’t take care of them, they wither, fall off, dry up and blow away.”

Pittman and a core of 50 residents of this neighborhood of single-family homes have developed a reputation as relentless lobbyists. They routinely win the attention of civic leaders such as Police Chief Bernard C. Parks and City Atty. James Hahn, who have attended their monthly meetings.

Says Tom Doorn, known among residents as Pastor Tom: “This is a neighborhood of beautiful people living quality lives in a city that doesn’t always make it that easy.”

As fast as the red, blue and yellow balloons were filled with helium, kids hustled off to untie the knots, giddily sucking down the gas and squeaking at one another in preternaturally high voices.

“I’ve had four sodas and four hot dogs,” boasted 8-year-old Jamal Wilkinson.

“That’s because you ate both of mine,” complained Jamal’s little brother, Keith.

Seven-year-old Clarence was proud of surviving a rocky 6.5 earthquake (packed into the Fire Department’s Quakey Shakey Schoolhouse) 13 times.

His mother, Rita Wendell, smiled at her son, applied suntan lotion and leaned back in her chair.

“Look at this,” Wendell said. “I mean really, is there anything better in the world than a block party on a sunny Saturday?”