Tiny La Palma Big on Spirit

It is easy to overlook La Palma. The 1.9-square-mile city is wedged on the border of Los Angeles and Orange counties where a handful of towns merge into an indistinguishable urban grid.

But La Palma was hard to miss Saturday, as a sizable portion of its 16,600 residents turned out for the city’s 49th-anniversary celebration. They watched the parade, enjoyed the fair and shared in some civic pride.

“There has always been a great community spirit and a small community atmosphere” in La Palma, said Ivan Claman, 66, a resident since 1973, as he cleaned the Kiwanis Club condiments table.

The daylong celebration kicked off with the La Palma Days parade on Walker Street, the city’s main road, where bleachers were filled with festivalgoers.

They were treated to marching bands, smiling dignitaries waving atop convertibles and war veterans in Army tanks. The smell of hot dogs, burritos, chow mein and caramel popcorn filled the air.

Elfriede Mac Iver, a resident for nearly 40 years, was tending the La Palma Historical Society’s booth. The celebration was put together and run by volunteers like her.

“I think we volunteer because we feel appreciated,” Mac Iver said. Besides, “we’re so small, if [we] don’t do it, who’s going to?”

The town, once named Dairyland, was incorporated as La Palma in 1955, becoming Orange County’s 16th city. At the time, there were 18 dairies and 600 residents, including some of the wealthiest dairy owners in the region.Through the decades, the dairies left, and La Palma, like much of Orange County, became a bedroom community.

Now, the city has a library and its own Police Department, but has retained its small-town feel, residents say.

After the annual celebration, city officials personally thank and give certificates to each of the volunteers, Mac Iver said. And everybody is quick to chip in, she said.

Mac Iver fondly recalled borrowing flatbed trucks from local dairy farmers for past parades, and volunteers took turns scooping dry ice onto them to create a fog effect on the streets. Once, when pranksters draped her house in toilet paper, her neighbors helped clean up.

“Everyone here has to work together,” Mac Iver said.

William Paronto, 66, who moved from Artesia three years ago and volunteers at the library, agreed.

“You get involved because of that pride of belonging,” he said.