Years of Caring Tie Neighbors, Races

A story like this is years in the making.

Years of looking out for each other. Years and years and years of living.

James Coley, who is an African American, migrated here from Shreveport, La., decades ago and settled in South Los Angeles. Yeun H. Park and his wife, Mi Ja, came from South Korea and bought the minimarket at the corner of Main and Century, next to Coley’s house.

They met and, in time, their friendship grew. One year, the Parks gave Coley a cake for his birthday. Every year after that, they helped him celebrate.

So when Coley turned 100, the Parks threw a party. The best and biggest ever. And they invited the entire neighborhood. The guests filled the parking lot of the little market: Latinos and African American neighbors and Korean Americans who had journeyed to join the celebration. The mailman came; so did the pastor of the church and the owner of the dry cleaners across the street.

That warm spring day carried a simple meaning that was explained between bites of barbecue ribs and forkfuls of kimchi.

“There’s no trouble, no problems,” said a smiling Griselda Mesa, who attended the party with her 3-year-old son, Moses Hernandez, her mother, Rosa Paladino, and her brother, Ismael. “We’re all here today enjoying and having a good time. This brings us together.”

Coley’s birthday party is a neighborhood tradition built on friendship, one that offers a glimpse into the ways people in this corner of the city still find ways to connect.

“There are not many problems in our store,” Mi Ja Park said. “I love my neighbors.”

Coley was one of the first neighbors the Parks met when they bought the store. In this neighborhood, Coley is a presence. From his spot on his front porch, he keeps a watchful eye out.

“This is my mailman,” Coley said, introducing the postal carrier who has stopped by to wish him happy birthday. “He parks his car in front of my house. I look out for him.”

Neighbors like Debra Cooper have grown to appreciate Coley. They check on him if they haven’t seen him in a while.

“We’re blessed to have him here,” Cooper said. “Coley is an inspiration. He will tell young boys what they need to do to deal with the system in the right way. . . . He has lived five lifetimes of some of our youngsters.”

One of the things he tells them is to respect what belongs to the Parks.

“Don’t go over there messing in that man’s store,” Cooper said, quoting Coley. “That’s Mr. Parks’ store.”

Ask him about his life and Coley shows he is master of the concise statement. He was born April 19, 1899. He worked as a plumber and a roofer. He has adult children. And he was married. Twice.

“When I was coming along, baby, I was just living day by day,” he said.

Having faith helped.

“You know that man called Jesus Christ?” he asked. “Talk to him. He makes it all right.”

For surviving a full century, Coley also received a letter from the mayor, a visit from City Councilman Mark Ridley-Thomas and a letter from the president of the United States.

He sums up his view of the Parks with equal brevity: They are good people.

More than a frequent visitor, Mi Ja jokes that Coley is the honorary store manager. It was Mi Ja’s idea to have the first party for him. That was in 1987.

“We made a party for him and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger,” she said. “Every year [the neighbors] are waiting for this day. Right now, I can’t stop. Everybody knows it’s Coley’s birthday.”

Each year, Mi Ja teases Coley. Is it time to go to heaven yet, she asks. Each year, the answer is a firm no.

For honoring Coley, the Parks have earned the respect of their neighbors. They have also earned a place in the eyes of many customers as neighbors, not just store owners.

“Mr. Park recognized Coley for the person he is,” said Cooper, who rose early on the day of the party to help serve up plates of food. “Coley helps Mr. Park, too.”

The Parks also have hired neighbors to work in the store.

“Mr. Park really helped me with my boy by letting him work,” said Gwendolyn Arthur.

The Parks’ store sells alcohol in an area of the city that has had an acrimonious relationship with liquor outlets. Community leaders say there are too many liquor stores here.

Party guests reflected the neighborhood, a low-income to working-class community. There were guests like the Rev. J.H. Hunter of Christian Hope Missionary Baptist and local business owners. They were joined by guests who bear the mark of hard living.

Ridley-Thomas applauded the store’s efforts “in working toward positive relations.”

“Any time you can affirm positive relations between ethnic groups you should do it,” said Ridley-Thomas. “I was glad to do that, particularly given the tension between African American consumers and Korean merchants.”

But even those efforts, he said, “don’t assuage the problems associated with the over concentration of liquor licenses.”

Across the street from the store is an empty lot; the building that once stood there was burned during the 1992 riots. The Parks’ store was not touched.

“The neighbors, they protected this market,” said Oak Jo, a friend of the Parks. “They are not really rich, but they want to return to the community what they gain from the business.”

On the day of the party, African American women stood behind the barbecue pit, handing large containers of ribs to Korean American women to put on serving tables. There were cole slaw and soda and cake. There were four huge containers of kimchi. They cooked some 350 slabs of ribs.

Throughout the day there were martial arts demonstrations and performances. A disc jockey played music and there was spiritual music by a group called God’s Tribe. Conversations were in Korean, English and Spanish.

But Coley was the star of this show. In the middle of the commotion, he sat, dressed in a fedora, a tan suit and a black and gold tie. He accepted birthday greetings and tried to remember names and faces.

“Happy Birthday, Mr. Coley,” one young woman said as she stepped forward to congratulate him. “You know who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tammi’s daughter,” Coley said.

“Sister,” the young woman corrected.

So the day went.

“It’s a lot of hard work,” said Daniel Park, the Parks’ son. “This is the reward. We’ve got Koreans here. We’ve got blacks. We’ve got Mexicans. The value goes beyond any of our hard work.”