Thursday, November 25, 2021

Watching The Groves Get Its Groove in Whittier, Cal.



The new Groves in Whittier residential development has been a long-time coming.

Now offered there includes million-dollar units for sale.

I posted in the year 2010 about the previous land use - the Fred C. Nelles Youth Correctional Facility.

The photographs shown here were taken between 2010 and 2020 in an attempt to chronicle the transformation.  Click on any image to zoom larger.

At the correctional facility entrance office - the employees cared for stray cats.
(Photo taken in 2010)

View from Whittier Boulevard and Sorensen Avenue
(Photo taken in 2012)

View from Whittier Boulevard shows a building in the dismantling stage.
(Photo taken in 2018)

Stater Bros. Market is shown at their original location facing Whittier Boulevard
(Photo taken in 2018)

(Photo taken in April, 2019)

(Photo taken in April, 2019)

(Photo taken in April, 2019)

(Photo taken in May, 2019)



Shown is an original building that was saved from demolition.
(Photo taken in May, 2019)

(Photo taken in May, 2019)

(Photo taken in May, 2019)

(Photo taken in May, 2019)

Cardenas Market preparing for its grand opening.  Their venture in Whittier was short-lived.
(Photo taken in May, 2020)

Below is a 35-second video.  If the video doesn't play on your smartphone, you might need to view it on a desktop computer.


The remainder of the images below were taken in May, 2020:



























Sunday, November 14, 2021

American Veterans of Chinese Heritage - a November 2021 Tribute

Veterans Day commemorations were held this past Thursday - I am finally getting around to posting.

This is my second response to anti-Asian violence in America.  The first post was Deny Them Their Names from April, 2021.

This year's national agenda for the holiday included the award of Congressional Gold Medals to some surviving Chinese American veterans.

It is time to crack open a library book.  Published in 1997 by the Los Angeles organization called the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California and edited by Marjorie Lee, Duty & Honor: a Tribute to Chinese American World War II Veterans of Southern California was a necessary effort to locate and document hundreds of local Chinese Americans who served our country during the Second World War.

A library copy borrowed from Branch 63, Chinatown Branch
of the Los Angeles Public Library System

There has never been a more important time to explore the contents of this book than now - if an American could get their hands on a copy.  I borrowed my copy from the Chinatown branch library.  The only other copies available in the entire city are at the great Central Library downtown.

Holdings throughout the U.S. are mostly in college & university libraries.  The only other public library copy available I found is at the Allen County Public Library in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

How else can the average person access this book?  The Internet Archive has a copy free to borrow and download.

I recognize several men profiled in the book.  Architect Gin D. Wong was included.  (He is mentioned in a previous post of mine.)

The 98 year-old gentleman named Louis Moore is in the book.  Mr. Moore currently resides in southern California.  Here he is pictured this past summer, following a flurry of media attention after the release of his book, Eternal Love, the True Love Story of Nellie and Lou Moore.

Mr. Louis Moore, an American veteran of World War II
Photo courtesy of Stephen Gee

The dearly departed father of my friend Albert Wong also contributed to the book.

Mr. Wong served three years and one month until after the war ended.
He was quoted in the book "I was pretty lucky."

His son Albert wrote:

There were a few instances when Dad was in a talkative mood (downstairs at the dining table of the Steele St. house), that is when he shared stories of surviving near death experiences on the battlefield.  On more than one occasion, when nearby explosions completely covered him in his fox hole, he had to quickly dig himself out before suffocating.  One time after digging himself out, he found an unexplored rocket shell just a few feet from him.  Another time, he was carrying his (full pack and) mortar gun and took enemy machine gun fire, he had to quickly tumble down a hillside to avoid being killed.  Dad would say, God was protecting him.  If I recall correctly, Dad was awarded his Bronze Star when his platoon was trying to advance up a hill but Japanese (?) machine gun nests were dug in bunkers above and were killing American soldiers.  During the night whenever our soldiers fired their weapon, it would divulge their location and were immediately fired upon causing more casualties.  Dad was able to figure a way to fire his motor rounds undetected by covering himself and his weapon completely under his poncho, and he used a lite cigarette to adjust his mortar sights and fired his mortar grenades.  He did this continuously until there was no more enemy fire.  The next morning, Dad was credited for 19 kills.  I recall Dad sharing this account in detail. 

Dear American Veterans, thank you for your service to our country.


Thursday, April 8, 2021

Deny Them Their Names: Chinese Men in 19th Century California

This blog post is prompted by the escalated attacks on Asian Americans in recent years; the heightened verbal and physical violence during the COVID-19 pandemic; and the mass slaughter last month at the Atlanta, Georgia, business sites of Asian spas.  These occurrences are on a historical trajectory begun when the first Chinese men set foot on the American continent.

Central in the composition of this postcard photo is the cook during the "noon hour," quite probably a Chinese cook.
He was the 'indispensable enemy'1 during meal time.
(Postcard from a private collection)


In the 19th century the first Asian faces met with general disdain were the masses of Chinese immigrant laborers appearing throughout the U.S.  This post will focus particularly on those who set out for California and the West seeking opportunities as gold miners, farm hands, cooks and railroad builders.  Although the federal census recorded their names and vital statistics, and local tax assessment books logged the taxes they paid, they were essentially anonymous.


1860 United States Federal Census
(Courtesy:  Ancestry.com. Heritage Quest Online. Provo, UT, USA; Ancestry.com Operations, Inc. 2009.
Image reproduced by FamilySearch)

1870 United States Federal Census
(Courtesy:  Ancestry.com. Heritage Quest Online. Provo, UT, USA; Ancestry.com Operations, Inc. 2009.
Image reproduced by FamilySearch)

Chinese men and women were commonly listed on American record books with a surname of "Ah" as in Ah Chew, Ah Chin, Ah Ching, Ah Con, Ah Cong, Ah Cope, Ah Corn...and so on.  Entire groups of men in whole counties were simply entered in the census as "John Chinaman."  Or else men were each listed by their singular name.

The Chinese men possessed richly expressive individual names like any other culture - usually stated with the family name first, followed by a two-word individual name.  An example of the naming structure:  Bruce Lee, the iconic Chinese American actor and martial artist, used a Chinese stage name Lee Siu Loong, translated to "Lee Little Dragon."  Imagining if Bruce Lee were listed as a Chinese railroad worker in the 1860s, he might have appeared under the entry Ah Loong.

Importantly, among the Chinese, Ah is a natural linguistic affectation2 stated before a noun:  Ah Ma (mother), Ah Ba (father).  Ah is a personal, fraternal, friendly, respectful and endearing way to address one another.  I can imagine the harsh physical and psychological pressures among the early Chinese in America, and the salutation Ah reinforced a sense of camaraderie.  Ah can be applied following the name, too, for congenial emphasis, Ah Loong ah

Ah was not comprehended by the non-Chinese.  When a large swath of the Chinese population was subjected to the name Ah, stripped away was each person’s individual traits as a human being.  But the uniform naming device conveniently served both the white labor boss and the non-English speaking laborer.  Neither needed to trip up over multi-phoneticized names - nor did the census takers.

Matchbook cover

A modern case of the naming pattern perpetuated can be found in the former chain of high-end Chinese restaurants located in Los Angeles from the 1940s to the 1980s - Ah Fong's.

An actor Ah Wing won roles in American silent films of the 1910s and 1920s.

Ah Quin, the Unofficial Mayor of San Diego's Chinatown

In Southern California, there is only one 19th century Chinese man whose life was well-documented:  Tom Ah Quin, known as Ah Quin.

Ah Quin with his wife and large family, circa 1899
(Courtesy of the San Diego History Center)

Susie Lan Cassel, a scholar of Chinese American history, uncovered his family name to be Tom, or pronounced Hom.3  Additional biographical material found here told that his given name, Tom Chong-kwan, was converted to Ah Quin by immigration officials.  And while it was common for federal census takers to err and misspell the names of those they surveyed, the 1900 census underscored the confusing Chinese names when husband and wife were listed respectively as Tom Quinn and Ah Quinn [sic].

The family portrait above, in and of itself, does not reveal the persona of Ah Quin, nor the varied opportunities for upward mobility that life in San Diego afforded him.

A page from Ah Quin's diary, 1891
(Courtesy Artstor, University of California, San Diego)

Ten diaries, penned by Ah Quin between 1876 and 1902, were kept by descendants, sometimes forgotten about, and they eventually were turned over for preservation in a research institution.  His entries in Chinese and English documented experiences, beginning in Santa Barbara, then in the U.S. District of Alaska, a return to Santa Barbara, and finally in San Diego beginning in the 1880s.  Along with additional writings from his time in San Francisco, the entire trove has aided historians with subjects such as the bachelor society in that city.

Even had there been the absence of diaries, modern day researchers could at least find substantial information on his life because Ah Quin's family and business affairs were reported frequently in the local newspapers.

He was born in the south China province of Guangdong on December 5, 1848 (according to his headstone).  He attended an American missionary school that provided him with English language skills that usefully navigated his new American journey when his family in 1868 sent him to California where other relatives had preceded him, and there were missionary contacts in San Francisco to receive him.  A good biographical source is here.

His birth date is convoluted, too, because in several diary entries he self-stated to be born on the 8th of December, 1850.  Whether it was 1848 or 1850, by the time he was born, surely his village was receiving the news spreading of the Gold Mountain in California following the gold strike at Sutter's Mill.

I read somewhere that he was a fairly tall man.  Because he was a Christian, spoke English and wore his hair in Western fashion, all these characteristics formed a charismatic individual who forged business relationships with white Americans.  Quin is also an Irish surname.  Another summary of him can be found here.  For more extensive scholarly excerpts by Susie Lan Cassel on Google Books, visit here.

His embrace of American life was reflected in part by the naming of his children:  Annie, George, Mamie, Thomas (Tom), Margaret (Maggie), Lillian (Lily), Franklin (Frank), Minnie, Henry Horton, Mary (Violet), Mabel, and McKinley.  The last son was named when William McKinley was on his second campaign for the American presidency.  (A thirteenth child, Ida May, deceased, can be found on online genealogical sources.)  The naming of fourth son Henry Horton may hold a clue to Ah Quin's relationship with his contemporary, Alonzo Horton, the prominent San Diego developer.  They may have been on par on certain social and business levels.

Wong Kim Ark of San Francisco

The use of "Ah" in government records diminished with each decade.  Individuals like Wong Kim Ark born and living in San Francisco in the late 19th century did not have to be identified as Ah Ark.

Mr. Wong was the defendant in a now-celebrated 1898 Supreme Court case United States v. Wong Kim Ark that established a person's birthright citizenship.

Not Goin' Back to China!

Ah Quin and Wong Kim Ark made California their permanent home.  

As ongoing American victims of anti-Asian hate are attacked with choruses of 'Go Back to China!' one response might be 'Why Did Your American Missionaries Go Into China??'


Just a Few Notes:

1    The term is borrowed from the title of the book The Indispensable Enemy:  Labor and the Anti-Chinese Movement in California, by Alexander Saxton, the late UCLA historian.

2    The term "linguistic affectation" is credited to Oakland-based journalist William Wong resulting from my email conversation with him.

3    The Chinese in America:  a History from Gold Mountain to the New Millennium, edited by Susie Lan Cassel, Altamira Press, Walnut Creek, California, 2002.

Sunday, March 14, 2021

Tyrus and Milton: An Animated Friendship

Tyrus Wong and Milton Quon, two L.A. gentlemen whom I have previously featured in several posts:

Chinese American Artists Working in Los Angeles

Pacific Standard Time Marches On

The Official Milton Quon Fan Club

Hiroshima and Tyrus Wong

Happy 104th Birthday Milton!


I knew they were friends.  I knew they had a lot in common which included being employed as Disney animation artists early in each of their successful and multi-faceted careers.  

But I did not realize the depth of their friendship until Pamela Tom, filmmaker of Finding Home, and Tyrus, wrote to me with the following:

Milton:  I first met Tyrus at the Chinese Congregational Church when he was courting Ruth Kim. She was singing in the choir and practicing and he and I sat in the last row of the pew. I happened to sit next to him, and I knew about him being a great artist. While the rehearsal was going on, I noticed that Tyrus was drawing on brown wrapping paper, drawing monkeys. I think at that time he already had a scholarship to Otis Art Institute. I remember he was a very sporty dresser and he had this nice sport coupe out in front of the church on 9th place near San Pedro Street.

Tyrus is a very, very…he’s very funny. He breaks me up. I remember at Bill Jong’s New Year party this year January 31st he just had me in stitches. I had to hold my stomach. I don't know what he does, but he just breaks me up.

I just love the guy. Every time we get together he breaks me up.

Photo courtesy of Pamela Tom

Pamela expressed that this photograph "captures their relationship in ways words cannot. It was taken at a joint fundraiser event for my film/celebration of Tyrus's 98th birthday. Milton and Tyrus had an incredibly special and enduring relationship. Their faces lit up whenever they saw each other. They were like two kids. They had so much mutual respect and love for each other."



Sunday, February 28, 2021

The Legacy of Hattie McDaniel in Los Angeles, Cal.

Erin Perez is guest blogger on this final day of February, 2021.  Her passionate interest prompts the telling of the achievements of a great lady, and the following story needs to be told today!  It is the last day of Black History Month which is celebrated each February.  Oscar awards movie history was made when Hattie McDaniel clinched the win in the Best Supporting Actress category on February 29, 1940 (a Leap Year).

Erin also celebrates her birthday in February.  She previously researched and wrote a guest post concerning pioneer filmmaker Thomas Ince and his legacy in Culver City.

Hattie McDaniel's Legacy in Los Angeles

     At the very end of South Harbor Harvard Blvd in the West Adams district, right before the 10 freeway, stands a green and white two-story manor. A wrought iron gate, purposely overgrown with pink and red bougainvillea, obscures and closes off the estate from passersby. Currently owned by Families for Families, a social services organization based in Los Angeles, the house once belonged to Academy Award winning actress, Hattie McDaniel.

     Hattie was the youngest of 13 children born to two formerly enslaved parents in 1893. Her father had fought and served with the United States Colored Troops during the Civil War. Hattie grew up in a religious household, with her father becoming a preacher and her mother singing gospel music after the war. Like her mother, Hattie fell in love with music and began her career juggling vaudeville gigs and a domestic service job to pay the bills.

     By the 1930s, Hattie had landed in Hollywood, she was now juggling cleaning houses both on and off screen. A prominent role as a singing maid in Judge Priest (1934) allowed Hattie to make money as a free-lance player in the mid 1930s. This recognition and financial stability for Hattie was short-lived as the studio system transitioned to long-term contracts and exclusivity with its signed players. Black free-lance players like Hattie, already facing racist discrimination in a Eurocentric industry, were shut out even more.

     Hattie began offering maid services again.

     Meanwhile, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, the bestselling book of 1936, had its film rights purchased by David O. Selznick. Though she was struggling for parts, Hattie was well-known and well-regarded in Hollywood circles. She was asked to audition for the part of Mammy, Scarlett O’ Hara’s fussy and astute slave. Hattie got the part, leading her to win Best Supporting Actress for the role in 1940, beating out her costar, Olivia De Havilland. She would be the first Black American to receive an Oscar. Shortly after, Hattie purchased the house at 2203 South Harbor Harvard Boulevard, where she would go on to throw star-studded soirees and USO dances during WW2.


Photo courtesy of Erin Perez

     The career triumphs, glass ceiling-shattering moments and personal gains were part of a double-edged sword for Hattie. For every step she took forward for herself, Hattie still faced racial discrimination and indignities, and even pushback from other Black Americans. She was not allowed at the Gone With The Wind premiere in Atlanta, as the theater was segregated. On the night of her Oscar win, Hattie and her escort were made to sit at a table next to a wall, far away from her white co-stars, as the Coconut Grove Restaurant did not allow Black guests.

     When Disney’s Song of the South came out in 1946, in which Hattie played a Mammy role similar to the one in Gone With The Wind, Walter White of the NAACP lambasted her for continuing to play enslaved women and servants, as these portrayals reinforced harmful stereotypes about Black people. It was a warranted call-out, yet Hattie also rightly pointed out that Hollywood wasn’t providing her with the opportunities for any other kinds of roles either. For her, playing characters in domestic service was the only way she could make an honest living, without having to resort to going back into domestic service itself. 

     One battle in particular that Hattie faced against racial inequity would set legal precedence in Los Angeles and have wide-ranging impacts on the makeup of the city as well.

     The West Adams district had attracted Hollywood stars before, Theda Bara and Fatty Arbuckle, with its array of extravagant manors and houses. The neighborhood is one of the oldest – as Los Angeles transitioned to a major city at the turn of the century, West Adams had boomed around the Adams Boulevard Corridor, as wealthy Los Angelinos bought lots and built grand homes in various popular architectural designs: Victorian; Queen Anne; Craftsman; Mediterranean etc. It had also been a largely white neighborhood, until the 30s and 40s, when Black entertainers and Black professionals began buying from white owners, themselves moving west, to a bourgeoning Beverly Hills. Hattie McDaniel, already in nearby Jefferson Park, bought the green-and-white manor; singer and actress Ethel Waters moved across the street; actress Louise Beavers, another Black actress, lived nearby as well; the tap-dancing duo of the Nicholas Brothers also had a house in the neighborhood. In fact, the rising prominence of Black homeowners led to the area being rechristened as “Sugar Hill,” a nod to a neighborhood in the also predominantly Black Harlem in New York City.

Source:  Now & Then in Historic West Adams, West Adams Heritage Association, 1987

Source:  Now & Then in Historic West Adams

     However, several white homeowners objected to their new neighbors. Calling back on prior restrictive covenants that did not allow homeowners to sell to Black families, 8 of these homeowners banded together and sued their Black neighbors to be evicted by Los Angeles. Hattie McDaniel, Waters, Beavers and around 40 other Black homeowners of the Sugar Hill area organized a front and appeared together before the Los Angeles Superior Court on December 5th, 1945, to defend their right to home ownership.

     Hattie not only faced discrimination from Hollywood, she also had to fight to be afforded equal protection under the law and keep what she worked so hard to get. The judge presiding over the case sided with Hattie and the other defendants, declaring “That it is time that members of the Negro race are accorded, without reservations and evasions, the full rights guaranteed them under the 14th Amendment of the Federal Constitution. Judges have been avoiding the real issue far too long. Certainly there was no discrimination against the Negro race when it came to calling upon its members to die on the battlefields in defense of this country in the war just ended.”

     The eight white homeowners pushed for an appeal, yet were thwarted in 1948, when the Supreme Court, presiding over a similar case, ruled that restrictive covenants could not be enforced, as doing so would be prohibited by the 14th Amendment.

     The Sugar Hill case was a landmark in Los Angeles history, opening up its traditionally white neighborhoods to non-white owners who otherwise could have been evicted due to the covenants or not sold property at all.

     For Hattie however, this victory would be short-lived. Her time as an owner and famed hostess in West Adams would soon come to an end. On October 6th, 1952, just 7 years after the landmark case, she would die of breast cancer, not in her own home in Sugar Hill, but in the hospital of the Motion Picture House in Woodland Hills. She was only 59. Her trailblazing legacy, though she faced setbacks and criticism, still resounds. When Mo-Nique won Best Supporting Actress in 2010 for Precious, she wore white gardenias in her hair, just as Hattie did in 1940 as an homage to her. Sugar Hill and West Adams remains a largely Black and Latinx area. But like Hattie, these neighborhoods still face the injustices of systemic racism - in the more insidious form of gentrification. Her legacy of changing L.A.’s map remains a battle.

Special thanks to Betty for inviting me once more and to Ashley Guerrero for looking over this piece and helping me edit.

Sources:

Ryan, D. (1940, Feb 11). Article 23 -- no title: YOOHOO! HI'YA, HATTIE! Los Angeles Times (1923-1995)

Hedda hopper's HOLLYWOOD. (1940, Feb 16). Los Angeles Times (1923-1995)

Negro property owners protest. (1945, Dec 6). Los Angeles Times (1923-1995)

Race zoning case in supreme court. (1946, Oct 03). Los Angeles Times (1923-1995)

Meares, Hadley. (2018, Feb 18). The thrill of Sugar Hill. Curbed Los Angeles.  https://la.curbed.com/2018/2/22/16979700/west-adams-history-segregation-housing-covenants


Tuesday, February 2, 2021

The German Hospital in Boyle Heights Has Been Demolished

Part I (1:35)

The former German Hospital erected in Boyle Heights was profiled last October.  It came under active demolition the morning of December 16th, and this series of videos document the last moments of the original 1904 building.

An eyewitness, Ms. M. Rodriguez, texted me as it was happening.  She explained that demo work began on December 1st along the small cottages to the south of the original building as well as other structures to the west.  Then all activity stopped.  She learned from a neighbor that there may have been a question about the historic status of the main building.  Was that all cleared up and the bulldozers were then resumed?

Photojournalist Gary Leonard arrived on the scene within 20 minutes of Ms. Rodriguez notifying me.  He got there at the exact time to capture the destruction in the final five minutes of the standing hospital building.


Part II (:23)

Part III (1:35)

Finale (1:15)











Thursday, January 14, 2021

Figueroa Street: A Thoroughfare Named in the 1850s, Los Angeles, Calif.

There was supposedly a jingle that helped people to remember the sequence of streets downtown:  "From Main we Spring to Broadway, then over the Hill to Olive!  Wouldn't it be Grand if we could Hope to pick a Flower that grows on Figueroa?"

All these streets were drawn on the first American map of Los Angeles in 1849.  Their original English names have stuck - with three exceptions:  Broadway was originally Fort; Grand was changed from Charity; and at first Figueroa was Grasshopper and then Pearl.


The story of today's Figueroa Street has always been complex and deserves an in-depth explanation. Not long after its predecessor, Grasshopper Street, was established on the survey, an "original" Figueroa Street was planned a little further west.  Figueroa fits in a little-known category as one of the first new streets established in 1855.  Today, the historic, original segment exists between Pico Boulevard and Exposition Boulevard.  Much of the research in this post is owed to the incredible sleuthing within map and other archival collections by librarian-historian Neal Harlow reflected in his 1976 book, Maps and Surveys of the Pueblo Lands of Los Angeles.


Courtesy of the Seaver Center for Western History Research, NHMLAC




Who Was José Figueroa?

The street named for José Secundino Figueroa y Parra correlates to the Spanish, Mexican and indigenous history in California.  Figueroa was Spanish and Native and distinguished in his military role in the war to gain Mexican independence from Spain.  He served as Governor of Alta California beginning in 1833 at the time when the Mexican government set about to secularize the Franciscan mission system.  He died in office in 1835, shortly after he authored the first full-length book ever published in California, Manifiesto a la Republica Mejicana.  Aside from being a historical first, the book is a record of his efforts to regulate the allocation of land in the interests of Native Americans, particularly amidst new colonizing groups who arrived in 1834.


Courtesy of the Seaver Center for Western History Research

 

Interestingly, historic Figueroa Street leads down to where it first ended, at today's Exposition Park, where at the Natural History Museum one of only a handful of known surviving copies of the Manifiesto is preserved.

An American City in Need of Selling Land

Figueroa Street is also significant because of its direct link to the City's earliest ambitions to grow the city in both its acreage and operational revenue, and this blog post emphasizes this specific linkage.

The origin story of the street began when the Los Angeles municipality, newly incorporated in April, 1850, strategized to raise revenue by selling city lots.  Preparation began in the summer of 1849 by securing a very first American survey, the Plan de la ciudad de Los Angeles, commonly known as the Ord Survey, paid with private money lent by councilman John Temple, who arrived when Los Angeles was a Mexican pueblo.  The survey concentrated on all the cultivated lands within the four square leagues allotted in the original Spanish pueblo.

In the fall of 1850 a proposal was made to hold a public auction to sell town lots and agricultural tracts.  The sale took place on November 7th but fell short of the goal.  John Temple was only able to recoup about 80% of his loan.

Then in August, 1852, a “donation system” or a “Free Land Ordinance” allowed a person to petition the mayor for desired land whereby for a $10 fee a landholder was given one year to improve the land before receiving title.  Eight certificates were issued and many more the following year on 35-acre lots outside of the city limits, because the Common Council had set its sight on claiming not four but sixteen square leagues of municipal land. 

In May, 1854, the Ordinance was repealed due to the lack of a complete survey for the entire 35-acre lots. A year earlier Henry Hancock, assisted by George Hansen, submitted a proposal to remedy the lack of a survey.  The proposal included a sketch map of the donation lots.  (This extant map from April, 1853, housed in the Los Angeles City Archives represents the earliest cartographic record for the donation system.)

In 1855 Hansen made a plat of the liberal boundaries of Los Angeles that extended to the neighboring ranchos.  (The plat map did not survive, and its existence is based on a composite map containing an 1871 affidavit by Hansen – see below).  To underscore the point, the early maps from 1853 and 1855 extended beyond the original four square leagues defined in the original Spanish pueblo. 

The 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ending the U.S. War with Mexico stipulated all claimants to land (individuals and entities) to provide proof before the U.S. Land Commission.  The first Common Council of Los Angeles boldly sought title to land totaling sixteen square leagues.  The Commission regularly heard California claims in San Francisco, but they held a session in Los Angeles during the fall of 1852, and in that October the City presented its petition. 

Confident that they would eventually prevail, the City proceeded with the issuance of 35-acre donation lots.  But the City did not succeed, and on February 5, 1856, the Land Commission confirmed the original four square leagues.  With the setback, Hansen’s plat map from two years earlier became reformed in 1857 to reflect the confirmed city limits.  (The 1857 map did not survive, and its existence is based on a composite map containing an 1871 affidavit by Hansen – see below).

The Naming of Figueroa Street

Figueroa Street was conceived on the survey maps produced after the Ord Survey and created by Hancock and Hansen along with work contributed by Adolphus Waldemar and William Moore in the 1850s and into the 1860s and 1870s.  The maps first projected the wishful, expanded boundaries but then reigned in within the reduced, confirmed limits.  Detailed on those maps of the 1850s and repeated in the 1860s and 1870s were streets for American presidents and a select group of five Mexican-era governors – José María Echeandía, José Figueroa, Juan Bautista Alvarado, Manuel Micheltorena, and Pío de Jesús Pico. 


[Map of Confirmed Limits of Los Angeles, by George Hansen, ca. 1860-1870]
(Courtesy Seaver Center GC-1310-2766)

Why is Figueroa Street the longest street in the city?  It appeared on early maps as the longest street. Whether detailed on a map showing the ambitious sixteen square leagues or inside the four square leagues, Figueroa Street was drawn as the lengthiest and most centrally placed.  Its prominence surpassed that of the streets for the other four Mexican governors as well as the original seven streets for American presidents.

The tidy order of the streets for the presidents is clearly seen, but a close study of the placement of Echandia (current spelling), Figueroa, Alvarado and Micheltorena Streets reveal that they are in the chronological order of each governor’s time in office.[1]  The street of the final governor from the Mexican period, Pío Pico, was placed perpendicular to the others and preceded the American presidents.

Historical maps indicate that the streets for the presidents and governors first appeared in 1855.  Coincidentally, or not, an anonymous 1855 English translation was released in San Francisco of the first full-length book published in California 20 years earlier by Governor Figueroa.  Was this the impetus for the street naming?  The question remains unanswered, but the surveyor and Austrian national, George Hansen, had ties to San Francisco, and he was characterized as erudite and a scholar and philosopher.

As early as 1853, Santa Barbara city maps included the names of Spanish and Mexican governors:  Arellaga, Figueroa, Micheltorena, Solá, and Victoria.  They do not run in any particular order, but the early naming raises a question whether this mapping activity may have influenced the work of Los Angeles surveyors in 1855.[2]  See more below on the streets history of Santa Barbara.

City Mapping Activities in 1871

Two significant map events occurred in 1871.  The City purchased a map from George Hansen containing a detailed and notarized affidavit dated January, 1871.  The map provided circumstances as to why there were duplicate block numbers north of Pico as well as south of Pico, but the composite map helps explain key surveying activities in Los Angeles from 1849, 1855 and 1857.[3]  Today this important map is housed at the Los Angeles City Archives, and it provides the basis for the historical origin of Figueroa Street.

In late October of the same year, the City decided to contract surveyor Lothar Seebold to produce two copies of the Ord Survey.  When the copies were completed in 1872, the original Survey was most likely discarded.

Public Works Activities in 1876

In all the years since Los Angeles was incorporated and even admitted as a city in the Union, the City continued to await the official Land Patent from the U.S. Land Office until the award for the four square leagues came in 1875.  (The 25-year wait was not unusual – claimants including individuals waited an average of 17 years, and there were instances of claims finalized after 35 to 40 years.)  In the case of the City of Los Angeles, it actually secured an earlier patent of 1866 that went back into litigation – and was upheld in January, 1882!

A lot of attention was paid to Pearl and Figueroa Streets in 1876.  Recorded for January 27, 1876 were the following:  1) grade of Pearl Street from Fifth Street to Pico Street; 2) defining lines of Figueroa Street from Washington to Pico; 3) continuation of Pearl Street from Twelfth to South line of Pico Street.  Also earlier, on March 18, 1875, Figueroa Street was graded along the “street known as Figueroa Street.”[4]

It appears that the entire length of (original) Figueroa Street between Baxter and Exposition Boulevard (present day name) was re-established again as Figueroa Street in 1876 maybe for administrative reasons.[5]

How Was Figueroa Street Used in the 19th Century?

Real life eventually did not measure up to the cartographic vision for the streets.  A portion of the original Figueroa Street (above Pico) was built over; while today Figueroa remains very prominent among the five streets for the governors, Echandia is exceptionally minor; streets for the presidents were not realized beyond Washington, Adams and Jefferson.

But how was the original Figueroa Street actually regarded by the residents?  The two earliest directories that this author could find to shed some light are dated 1875:  Southern California Directory and the Los Angeles City Directory.

Above Pico Street

A small detail was found in pioneer Leonard J. Rose’s description of public transportation development in the city after 1874:  when the first streetcar line ran from Pico House down Main to junction at Spring, then to First, then west to Fort (Broadway), south to Sixth, then west to the car barns on Figueroa.[6]

Notably absent in the 1875 directories are residential addresses of those living on (original) Figueroa Street anywhere above Pico Street.  For substantiation, newspaper articles in the early 1890s reported the confusion that Figueroa Street was disregarded and homes and structures built through where the street should be.  Some demanded that the street be recognized fearing their property would be boxed in if the street became vacated.[7] 



By 1894 two contested stretches (between 6th and 9th streets; between 10th and Pico streets) were vacated.  In 1897, a longer segment leading northward from 6th Street up to Bellevue was vacated.  But Bellevue through Lilac Terrace was vacated earlier in 1886.  Lilac Terrace up to Baxter was vacated in 1897.  An overlooked segment of (original) Figueroa between 9th and 10th streets continues today as an alley named Cottage Place.  The well-known Hotel Figueroa has a rear door exiting onto Cottage Place.

Therefore the northern portion of (original) Figueroa Street above Pico Street withered away, and one street to the east, Pearl Street (first established by the Ord Survey as Calle de las Chapules or Grasshopper) took on the name, Figueroa, in 1897.

Below Pico Street

While the original Figueroa Street running north of Pico did not survive, the segment south of Pico thrived (and still exists today).  The 1875 Los Angeles City Directory show that the vicinity of Figueroa intersecting with Pico, Washington, Adams and Jefferson was dotted with 26 residences.  The residents were predominantly skilled:  several lawyers, a real estate broker, a staircase builder, carpenters, nurserymen, a Superintendent of Mines, bookkeeper, a clerk, several farmers and a couple of laborers.

A prominent person listed in 1875 was Horace Bell, who lived on the original leg of Figueroa just below Pico.  He probably settled here early following his return from the Civil War.  His wife Georgia was described as the first American woman to reside south of 8th Street and west of Grand Avenue.

Prior to 1875, lots were held by many individuals, but it is unknown if anyone actually lived on a lot and made improvements.  Other early landholders include surveyors Henry Hancock and William Moore both of whom received lots as partial payment in their contracts surveying for the City.

Some of the lots below Pico may have been procured by individuals during a period between 1852 and 1854 when the donation system was available.

Lots were auctioned “at the end of the 50’s and in the 60’s for $2.50 to $7.50 an acre to overcome financial stringency.”[8]  Attorney Cameron E. Thom (who served as City Mayor in the 1880s) invested in two lots bound by Figueroa, Pico, Grand and Washington for the price of $153 in 1855.

In his memoir Harris Newmark recalled his friend Colonel John O. Wheeler forgot about an investment of 50 to 60 acres near Figueroa and Adams until the active real estate boom of the mid-1880s.[9]

An early mention of an investment on south Figueroa is from a Los Angeles Star newspaper notice of April 27, 1867, informing that Joseph Shaw has title to land fronting Washington and Figueroa streets, and bounded by property owned by other individuals, Flashner and Hass.

From the Los Angeles Star newspaper (Huge thanks to M. Tapio-Kines for bringing attention this article)

Figueroa Street Naming in Other Cities

The Southern California Directory of 1875 reveals the existence of Figueroa streets in San Buenaventura (Ventura) and Santa Barbara, and those streets still remain today. 

Additionally historic Figueroa Street in Ventura turns into a pedestrian pathway called Figueroa Street Mall that leads to Mission San Buenaventura. 

As stated earlier, a total of five street names for governors were established as early as 1853 in Santa Barbara.  Naming for Governor Figueroa along with Mexican governors, Micheltorena and Victoria, and Spanish governor de Solá, were listed in the 1875 directory (while Arellaga was not found in any 1875 entries).  Carrillo Street was contemporaneously named in the 1850s for the local Judge Joaquin Carrillo and not for Governor Carlos Antonio Carrillo.  

José Figueroa's eponymous fixture in Santa Barbara is particularly significant since the Mission Santa Barbara is his resting place.

Figueroa Street is a Los Angeles Landmark

Last December a group of historians responded to a proposal for renaming a three-mile length of the street to Kobe Bryant Boulevard, between Olympic and Exposition Boulevards.  The Los Angeles Times published an opinion piece authored by those leading the charge - Darryl Holter, William Estrada and John Echeveste.[10]  As of this writing, the proposal has not been heard by the City Council. 

 

Published December 6, 2020 (Image from  blogger's collection)


 


Previous Los Angeles Revisited posts dedicated to Figueroa Street:

The Hotel Figueroa and Figueroa Street Name Origins

Before the Convention Center, the Staples Center and LA Live and Football 

The Pulchritude of Pearl Street 

 


[1] A map housed in the Los Angeles City Archives that was purchased in 1871 shows a naming pattern for Mexican governors that may have included a 6th governor, Pablo Vicente de Solá, who was the last Spanish governor of Alta California.  For the purposes of this paper, the mention of the streets for the governors will be kept to five: Echeandía, Figueroa, Alvarado, Micheltorena and Pico.

[2] Salisbury Haley conducted the first survey for Santa Barbara in 1851.  As of this writing it is not known whether the streets for the governors took shape then, or perhaps when Vitus Wackenreuder, County Surveyor, prepared another map in January, 1853.

[3] Neal Harlow, Maps and Surveys of the Pueblo Lands of Los Angeles.  Los Angeles:  Dawson’s Book Shop, 1976, pp. 72-75.

[4] Wm. M. Caswell, Revised Charter and Compiled Ordinances and Resolutions of the City of Los Angeles.  Los Angeles:  Evening Express Steam Printing Establishment, 1878.

[5] Bernice Kimball, Street Names of Los Angeles.  Los Angeles:  Bureau of Engineering, 1988.

[6] L.J. Rose, Jr., L.J. Rose of Sunny Slope 1827-1899, San Marino:  The Huntington Library, 1959, pp. 95-96.

[8] [A translation of Los Angeles, Origin, Life and Set-Up of the Two-Million City in Southern California by Anton Wagner, index to page 83], ca. 1937, MSS-577, Seaver Center for Western History Research, NHMLAC.

[9] Harris Newmark, Sixty Years in Southern California 1853-1913.  Boston and New York:  Houghton Mifflin Co., 1930, pp. 379-380.

[10] Darryl Holter, William Estrada and John Echeveste, “Honoring Yesterday’s Heroes,” Los Angeles Times, December 6, 2020, p. A19.