Tag Archives: Los Angeles

DRUGS: Is the “Buchon” style here to stay?

An interesting story in today’s El Debate, a daily newspaper in the state of Sinaloa, asks whether buchon style is here to stay.

Buchon is a style of dress and speech — attitudes as well — that is from the bottom of the Sinaloan drug world.

It usually involves slang, very drawled speech — which is how folks from the mountains of Sinaloa speak. It also involves guns, demeaning talk about women, glorification of the bloodthirstiest narcos, money, military garb, tricked-out trucks, and, interestingly, the veneration of Buchanan whiskey — bastardized as “Buchanas.”

Stop me if you’ve heard this somewhere before.

Buchon  is a big deal in the state of Sinaloa, where Mexican drug smuggling began — as the story makes clear.

It’s also a big deal here in L.A., where Sinaloan style has dominated Mexican culture for two decades — since the life and death of narco-balladeer legend Chalino Sanchez.

Los Buchones de Culiacan are a band that plays here regularly, and in Sinaloa. (Can’t play in the state of Tamaulipas as their image is so associated with the Sinaloa Cartel, which is at war with the Zetas, whose stronghold in near the Gulf of Mexico.)

People in the southeast cities of LA County sometimes try to speak like hill Sinaloans even though they’re from states with very different cultures, such as Jalisco or Zacatecas.

As Carlos Monsivais was once reputed to have said: if you provide jobs to people, you become a hero. Or you get all the girls…..

 

 

 

 

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LOS ANGELES: Tuba thefts, again

Once again, tuba thieves have struck. This time: Whittier High School. Four sousaphones.

Last time, Saturday Night Live did a Weekend Update bit on the phenomenon.

Lightheartedness aside, I find the topic interesting because tubas are the emblematic popular instrument of our time in Southern California — just like the electric guitar was in the 1970s.

A reporter could probably have fashioned a whole beat writing about the culture surrounding electric guitar during those years. (In Claremont, where I grew up, there were easily 20 guys in my high school class who played guitar, and, if memory serves, six guitar stores within a few-mile radius.)

I think the same is true today of tubas. Their popularity says a lot about the region and the time.

 

 

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VIRGIN: The Virgin of Nadeau Street

Much of the sweetness of the Virgin of Guadalupe, I believe, lies in her eyes, which are cast down, and the humility that implies.

Always an oasis in LA, whenever I see her.

 

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LOS ANGELES: Westlake street

This is on a street in Westlake, just west of downtown L.A.

 

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LOS ANGELES: Prom Dress

This was on display in a Broadway dress shop downtown.

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LOS ANGELES: A sauna that’s my favorite place in Hollywood

Check out a column in today’s LA Times about the sauna in Hollywood, in the club now owned by LA Fitness, where I love to spend time in and which is well worth visiting for all it can tell you about Los Angeles, I think.

I always liked the idea of the region as a place where people come and live with their own, more or less oblivious to others from elsewhere who live nearby. This, too, is on display in the sauna.

It’s a raw place; you may hear things that offend a PC sensibility, but L.A.’s geography of multiculturalism can be messy, which makes it so interesting.

Don’t pay attention to the commenter who says the only language you hear in there is Spanish. That’s nonsense.

 

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LOS ANGELES: Who was that masked man?

Yesterday, the May Day march was the smallest it’s been since it began in Los Angeles in 2006. (Here’s the LA Times story.)

Absent are the vast numbers of immigrants and their families — the region’s working class essentially — who populated the first marches and gave them an organic energy.

Nowadays, a much higher percentage of marchers is made up of youths with masks and bandanas covering their faces, and often with anarchist slogans, such as “Abolish Wage Slavery,” and calling for an end to the Federal Reserve.

 

 

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MIGRANTS: “We’re like cockroaches. We’re surviving.”

 

Roberto Chavez

Over the weekend, I spent time at Westmoreland and Francis avenues, a few blocks west of MacArthur Park, where on Saturday and Sunday a kind of street-vendor mall spontaneously pops up.

On a couple blocks, vendors crowd together, looking for all the world like some street in Mexico City, and selling toothbrushes, electric hair curlers, bleach, boots, DVDs, tools, laptops, cellphones, clothes of all kinds. Each vendor has  a little space – first come, first served, I take it.

I met Roberto Chavez, from Honduras, who owned a hardware store at 6th and Union for 10 years until Home Depot and 99-cents stores moved in and crushed him.

“Since then, I’ve been on the streets” selling wallets and ladies purses lately at the Roadium Open Air Market swap meet.

Chavez said his father was a journalist and died when Chavez was 5. His mother cooked at the U.S. Embassy in Tegucigalpa, he said. Chavez said he came here more than 30 years ago.

Street vending is part of the economy that L.A. cannot do without, he said, because it helps keep its cheap labor force here.

“People just try to survive here,” he said, looking at the vendors that surrounded us. “Nobody’s making money.” Most folks have full-time jobs and come here to sell on weekends to make ends meet. Otherwise, he said, they’d have to return home. It’s too expensive to be poor here, with cars, rent ($700 for a miserable single apartment that he has to share to afford, he said).

“You can measure the economy here,” he said. “We’re like cockroaches. We’re surviving.”

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MIGRANTS: Salvadorans and Koreans

Yesterday I spent some time with Salvadoran immigrants as they inaugurated the corner of Pico and Vermont as Monsenor Oscar Romero Square.

An interesting exertion of the ethnic presence in an area where Latinos are the majority population, but the economic power is largely Korean.

These kinds of (I’ll call them) tensions make I think for interesting stories. The square and a hoped-for El Salvadoran Corridor down Vermont was presented to me as a way of having Salvadorans recognized, but also saying to Koreans that Salvadorans are here and to be taken into account.

Salvadorans were stung two years ago when Korean-American leaders tried to expand the official boundaries of Koreatown to include (largely Latino) Pico-Union without consulting them.

It’s unclear how forceful a square or corridor will be — but the precedent of Chinatown, Koreatown, Little Tokyo, Little Armenia, etc. is there. So Salvadorans feel they have something coming, too.

The other interesting point to come out of it, seems to me, is that the Salvadorans pushing this are, for the first time, business owners and Salvadoran-Americans, and mostly younger.

The Salvadoran community took shape in the 1980s amid lots of attention to its civil war. Nonprofits formed here to attend to the needs of the new refugees. The folks who ran these nonprofits became the public face of the Salvadoran community and have been there ever since. The business community was small and disorganized and the political class was nonexistent. (Salvadorans still have elected no one to public office in LA County.) Yet these nonprofit leaders, apparently, often clashed with each other over; occasionally the dividing lines were the same as those during the civil war. Most folks I spoke with count this as a reason why Salvadoran economic and political power has lagged here in L.A.

But that now seems to be changing, as a new generation steps forward, and seems to leave behind the divisions created by the country’s civil war (1980-92). Be interesting to watch how it unfolds.

 

 

 

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MIGRANTS: Carmen of Honduras

I was at a ceremony inaugurating the corner of Pico and Vermont as Monsenor Oscar Romero Square, and I met Carmen, who asked if I had any work for a housekeeper.

I said I didn’t, but she seemed nice, with good references, she assured me, so if you have any work for a housekeeper, let me know.

 

 

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GANGS: The Mexican Mafia and killing one’s own

Virgin, West Side Verdugo

There’s a story in Friday’s Whittier Daily News that says a lot about how Latino street gangs in Southern California have changed, and turned on themselves.

The reason is the Mexican Mafia, the prison gang that has controlled street gangs for most of two decades.

In the story, a gang member killed a friend who’d been going around collecting taxes from area drug dealers in the name of the Mexican Mafia, when he wasn’t designated to do so.

The story doesn’t say how good of friends these guys were, but there were many years when Latino street gangs would never kill one of their own like this.

The Mexican Mafia’s taxation scheme — ordering Latino street gangs to tax drug dealers in neighborhoods and kicking up the money to MM members in prison and their associates — changed that. These kinds of killings mark a huge, though quiet shift in Southern California gang culture.

I wrote a story several years ago about the Dead Presidents case in the West Side Verdugo area of San Bernardino, in which, on MM orders, members of two allied, neighborhood gangs murdered their presidents: two brothers, Johnny and Gilbert Agudo, the presidents of 7th Street and Little Counts, respectively.

The victims and the suspects had all grown up together; some had been babysat by the mothers of the others. Yet the mafia had twisted relations in the gang to such a point that, like some Shakespearean play, they turned on each other one bloody night in 2000.

“After what happened, that just broke up the neighborhood completely,” said one guy from the area that I talked to. “Nobody trusted nobody.” Indeed, the gangs really haven’t reconstituted since then.

In Avenal state prison once, I interviewed a 22-year-old gang member who’d murdered a friend he knew from kindergarten, who was at the time even living with this kid’s family because his own had thrown him out. This was on orders of the local mafia member, who said that the friend had to go, apparently over some debt of some kind. The details weren’t clear ever to the 22-year-old, who, without asking a question, took his friend for a ride and shot him in the chest in an isolated part of the San Gabriel Valley.

He told me he wanted, above all, to be a carnal — a Mexican Mafia member — some day and looked up to the Big Homies the way a little leaguer looks up to a MLB player. He’d since dropped out and was on a protective custody yard, a Sensitive Needs Yard, which I’ve written about before in this blog.  He also said that because he looked sweet and much younger than his years, he had to do more violence to get the respect of his gang brethren. That was also part of it.

He’s now doing 55 years to life.

This never used to happen in Latino neighborhood gangs — this turning homeboy on homeboy, unless one had snitched. They were clannish things, happy to war with their enemies, but all about “protecting” the neighborhood and not ever about killing each other.

But this kind of killing has been happening across SoCal since the MM’s edicts on taxation were issued in the mid-1990s. Usually the orders come from some old incarcerated MM gang member who hasn’t been on the streets in the lifetime of those homeboys who are about to kill, or to die.

Now, one gang member told me once, when your best homies you knew from kindergarten call and say let’s go for a ride, you don’t do it.

 

 

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LOS ANGELES: Dwayne Alexander

I spent yesterday on the story of Dwayne Alexander, the counselor at the Los Angeles Job Corps who was stabbed to death Wednesday by one of the students at the center.

I was struck by how his friends, some from years ago, spoke about him, and overwhelmed because of that, as the day went on, by what a sweet and solid guy he must have been in life. They described him as “a gentle soul” and “a very kind spirit,” rarely angry and never a braggart. These would be rare qualities, I suspect, in the world of record label promotion, which is where he spent much of his career. I suspect also that they would have been enormously helpful as a job counselor for youths on the edge.

He seemed also the kind of guy who had a long-term goal — screenwriting and production — that was his guiding compass. No matter what he did, he was headed that way.

But he interrupted it all to go back home to Tulsa to help his mother recover from double knee-replacement surgery a few years back.

“People say the good die young,” R&B singer Millie Jackson told me, “and this was a totally good example of that.”

 

 

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MIGRANTS: Curandero Carlos, Guatemalan Witch Doctor

Yesterday, I met Hermano Carlos, a curandero, or witch doctor, from Guatemala.

One of the great botanicas in all LA, his place on Pico, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite streets in town.

His place is filled with soaps to Keep Hate Away, and aerosol sprays for love, and candles, Santa Muerte, San Simon, Jesus Malverde, and every kind of icon to ward off evil and welcome good luck and happiness. A lot of it’s made in China.

He said he’s been curing people since he was 5, and came here in 1988, fleeing Guatemala’s civil war.

Initially, he had some competition from El Indio Amazonico, a strange fellow who seemed to franchise out his curing shops and had several the last time I looked. But Carlos said those shops seem to be closing, so Hermano Carlos has more business. The recession hasn’t hurt either, as more people have come to him for help finding work.

He had to interrupt our chat to read the cards of a client who happened by. More later.

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CULTURE: Tongue and Groove

For several years now, writer and bohemian-about-town Conrad Romo has been hosting Tongue and Groove, a monthly get together of writers, poets, musicians and spoken-word folks of all ilks.

The next one is this Sunday.

Gig starts at 6pm at Hotel Cafe, 1623 1/2 N. Cahuenga. Check it out. Well worth the trip.

 

 

 

 

 

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MIGRANTS: Tuba thefts

Santiago "Shagi" Mata, tuba player, Maywood, CA

The LA band craze continues to claim high school tubas right and left.

Here’s a link to a story about the latest: Bell High School had two stolen over the weekend, valued at $6,000 apiece. Several other schools have had tubas stolen in recent months.

It’s all about the emergence of the tuba as the emblematic instrument for Southern California in this era, just as the electric guitar was for the 1970s.

With the arrival of Mexican immigrants, and their tradition of house parties, the tuba has become all the rage in SoCal. Great tubists in banda music, like Santiago Mata (pictured here), are paid more than other musicians.

Also, the Sierreno trio — tuba, guitar and accordion — has grown in popularity at these parties.

Hence, tubas, the most expensive of marching band instruments, are in high demand. Most of the thefts have taken place in predominantly Mexican immigrant areas — southeast of LA especially — where banda is hugely popular.

I’ve written a story about this phenomenon and one about the thefts of tubas that many instructors believe is the result.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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