latimes--2020-10-10--Inequities of pandemic learning on stark display at the Orange County-Long Beach border

To understand the inequities of student education in this fall of pandemic , few places offer a starker lesson than the Orange County border that divides working-class Long Beach and the upscale suburb of Los Alamitos .
On a recent weekday , Mitchell Cruz , a junior at Los Alamitos High School , woke to the sound of his 7 a.m. alarm and picked out a school-approved outfit instead of the simple T-shirts he wore for learning in front of a laptop computer at home .
In-person school was back in session — even if it was a little weird @ @ @ @ @ @ @ head to the campus until 11 a.m. to make it to classes that would stretch into the afternoon .
The buzz of hallway chatter was muted , students largely kept their distance from one another .
Hangout spots were still a thing of the not-so-distant — even if it felt that way — past .
“ People are still a little weary of the pandemic .
It ’ s awkward , ” Mitchell said .
Still , he and his parents were relieved that he was physically back at school under a four-day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my son , it was difficult at first when we switched to online learning .
I tried to help , but it was hard to figure it all out , ” said Mitchell ’ s mother , Kara Cruz .
“ So I was thankful for him to be back.
” The experience this day was radically different on the other side of the border in Long Beach .
Mike Gallo , 43 , told his three children — seventh-grader Karly , third-grader Keira and first-grader Evan — to abruptly log off at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Today ’ s lesson would be one of civil disobedience .
In this Long Beach neighborhood , some fed-up parents were protesting the delaying of in-person schooling to Jan. 28 .
The Gallos were joining in to boycott remote learning and all of the stresses and angst that come from it .
They headed to Cubberley School for a brief sit-in .
“ We need our kiddos back in class as soon as possible , ” Mike Gallo said .
“ I don ’ t understand why we can ’ t get the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of a teacher if we mask up.
” This is the dual reality of school life in neighborhoods smack dab at the border of Orange and Los Angeles counties .
“ It ’ s frustrating .
Across the [ San Gabriel ] river , students are already back , getting quality education , as my kids fall behind , ” said Gallo , a salesman at Southern Glazer ’ s Wine and Spirits .
“ It ’ s like you ’ re in a different world when you cross into Orange County… .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ go to school , and yet we can ’ t do that in Long Beach even though it also has low COVID-19 rates.
” In neighborhoods divided by governmental boundaries but that to the naked eye often seem contiguous , different academic experiences are playing out — for students , parents , teachers and everyone else involved in the process of teaching and learning .
The Gallos have neighbors whose children attend schools in the Los Alamitos Unified School District in Orange County .
Families who share backyards and whose children play together @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the coronavirus in dramatically different ways .
It is a microcosm of the California experience , where counties have responded differently at times to state guidelines — sometimes out of defiance and sometimes because of the varying infection rates from one jurisdiction to another .
In Orange County , local leaders pushed for reopening and defying mask mandates .
County school districts were among the first , and largest , in the state to resume in-person learning in September .
Meanwhile , students have yet to return to campuses in the Los Angeles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Long Beach ’ s decision to push back the start date was made after consulting local and regional health officials , Long Beach Unified spokesman Chris Eftychiou said in a statement .
“ The health data in Long Beach have stabilized somewhat but still present significant challenges to returning students to in-person learning , ” he said .
“ We believe that not perpetuating a cycle of opening and closing classrooms and schools will best contribute to stabilizing the learning experience for our students , and will allow parents to plan for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Eftychiou , 67 % of high school families said they wanted to a hybrid model when it is safe .
In a survey sent out over the summer , more than half of elementary and middle school parents also indicated their desire to return to campus .
When the district pushed back the start date , parents and community members created a Facebook group criticizing the district .
They complained of computer screen fatigue , inadequate instruction and lack of socialization for students .
“ We empathize with those valid concerns , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ middle of a pandemic , ” Eftychiou said .
But the decision left Long Beach Millikan High School choir director Drake York unhappy .
Internet lags and shoddy microphone recordings for a class dependent on synchrony and rhythm threw a wrench in the teaching methods he ’ s perfected in his 11 years as an educator .
“ There ’ s a real pacing divide , and this is exacerbated with online learning .
Kids who are successful accelerate and leave those who aren ’ t in the dust , ” York said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ taking on jobs or don ’ t have a great internet connection , and the district-provided Chromebooks are pretty slow and inconsistent.
” During his class , half the students kept their cameras turned off while others stared elsewhere .
At the start of class , one student ’ s camera was upside down , then 90 degrees to the left for two minutes .
It was just one small distraction in a schooling model full of them , he said .
York said he tried his best to engage with the students @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as he lectures on the foundations of music theory .
He leads a lesson on rhythm using claps , encouraging others to join in .
The remainder of class he provides time to work on assignments independently .
“ I used to have over 300 students singing in one room .
For them to be able to sing together and be able to socialize and grow together is what makes the class special , ” York said .
This time of year , York ’ s class would be preparing for a retreat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ formal winter concert .
Now , he is troubleshooting technology issues and trying to coordinate recording a virtual concert .
His job has become more time-consuming because of connectivity and technology problems , he said .
“ The kids , myself and my colleagues are exhausted .
We don ’ t know if this is going to be sustainable for a semester , ” York said .
“ Were not even able to do tutoring or give valid assessment to the students on assignments with this time crunch.
” York said he hopes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ practice outdoors as it does with other sports .
Los Alamitos High had a different concern : whether coming back to campus , even under a hybrid model , would lead to an increase in infections .
Just one week after reopening , on Oct. 6 , interim Principal Greg Stone sent an email to Los Alamitos parents notifying them of the school ’ s first coronavirus case .
Stone said thorough cleaning will be done in accordance with Orange County Health Care Agency guidelines .
Supt .
Andrew Pulver said the district @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cases across school sites and has begun contact tracing at the high school with the health agency .
Last week , high school teachers threatened to strike for safer work conditions but called off the vote because of logistical issues , said David Eisenberg , high school director of the Los Alamitos Educators Assn .
The science teacher said colleagues thought the Sept. 29 return date felt rushed .
And though the strike did not occur , Eisenberg said the district has provided new safety guidelines to alleviate the concerns that teachers have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coming in through the air system , new air filters and stricter regulations on what qualifies as a mask , he said .
“ We ’ re still scared about COVID , but we still love our students and we feed off their energy , and that ’ s something I think the district got right , ” Eisenberg said .
Though many parents worry about sending their children back to school , others such as Christina Ynostrosa say the remote-learning experiment has caused tremendous strain .
She burst into tears after a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and marketing director for a window film manufacturer , does not work from home , so she has to help her three sons — 9-year-old Aaron Villa , 17-year-old Elias Villa and 21-year-old Isaac Villa — get set up and hope they stay on task without her .
Elias , a student at Millikan High School , has attention deficit disorder and struggles to stay engaged .
“ I know he struggled in class , but online is so much worse , ” Ynostrosa said .
“ Not that it ’ s the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can slip through the cracks very easily .
“ I feel like I ’ m letting my kids down by not being able to look over their schoolwork .
I don ’ t downplay the virus , but I do feel like the district would be able to reopen and keep our kids safe .
”

Students leave campus after a day of in-class learning at Los Alamitos High School. Across the county line in Long Beach, distance learning remains the norm.
To understand the inequities of student education in this fall of pandemic, few places offer a starker lesson than the Orange County border that divides working-class Long Beach and the upscale suburb of Los Alamitos.
On a recent weekday, Mitchell Cruz, a junior at Los Alamitos High School, woke to the sound of his 7 a.m. alarm and picked out a school-approved outfit instead of the simple T-shirts he wore for learning in front of a laptop computer at home.
In-person school was back in session — even if it was a little weird.
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The 17-year-old wouldn’t actually head to the campus until 11 a.m. to make it to classes that would stretch into the afternoon. The buzz of hallway chatter was muted, students largely kept their distance from one another. Hangout spots were still a thing of the not-so-distant — even if it felt that way — past.
“People are still a little weary of the pandemic. It’s awkward,” Mitchell said.
Still, he and his parents were relieved that he was physically back at school under a four-day “hybrid” model.
“For my son, it was difficult at first when we switched to online learning. I tried to help, but it was hard to figure it all out,” said Mitchell’s mother, Kara Cruz. “So I was thankful for him to be back.”
Mike and Kristin Gallo and their children — Karly, 12, Keira, 8, and Evan, 6 — protested Long Beach Unified’s decision to remain closed until January by logging off from their virtual classes. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
The experience this day was radically different on the other side of the border in Long Beach. Mike Gallo, 43, told his three children — seventh-grader Karly, third-grader Keira and first-grader Evan — to abruptly log off at 9:30 a.m. from their virtual classes. Today’s lesson would be one of civil disobedience.
In this Long Beach neighborhood, some fed-up parents were protesting the delaying of in-person schooling to Jan. 28. The Gallos were joining in to boycott remote learning and all of the stresses and angst that come from it. They headed to Cubberley School for a brief sit-in.
“We need our kiddos back in class as soon as possible,” Mike Gallo said. “I don’t understand why we can’t get the option to put our kids in front of a teacher if we mask up.”
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This is the dual reality of school life in neighborhoods smack dab at the border of Orange and Los Angeles counties.
“It’s frustrating. Across the [San Gabriel] river, students are already back, getting quality education, as my kids fall behind,” said Gallo, a salesman at Southern Glazer’s Wine and Spirits. “It’s like you’re in a different world when you cross into Orange County…. We can dine in, students can go to school, and yet we can’t do that in Long Beach even though it also has low COVID-19 rates.”
In neighborhoods divided by governmental boundaries but that to the naked eye often seem contiguous, different academic experiences are playing out — for students, parents, teachers and everyone else involved in the process of teaching and learning.
The Gallos have neighbors whose children attend schools in the Los Alamitos Unified School District in Orange County. Families who share backyards and whose children play together are experiencing schooling in the age of the coronavirus in dramatically different ways.
It is a microcosm of the California experience, where counties have responded differently at times to state guidelines — sometimes out of defiance and sometimes because of the varying infection rates from one jurisdiction to another.
Some teachers at Los Alamitos High School thought the Sept. 29 return date for students felt rushed. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
In Orange County, local leaders pushed for reopening and defying mask mandates. County school districts were among the first, and largest, in the state to resume in-person learning in September.
Meanwhile, students have yet to return to campuses in the Los Angeles and Long Beach unified school districts.
Long Beach’s decision to push back the start date was made after consulting local and regional health officials, Long Beach Unified spokesman Chris Eftychiou said in a statement.
“The health data in Long Beach have stabilized somewhat but still present significant challenges to returning students to in-person learning,” he said. “We believe that not perpetuating a cycle of opening and closing classrooms and schools will best contribute to stabilizing the learning experience for our students, and will allow parents to plan for the coming weeks and months.”
According to Eftychiou, 67% of high school families said they wanted a hybrid model when it is safe. In a survey sent out over the summer, more than half of elementary and middle school parents also indicated their desire to return to campus. When the district pushed back the start date, parents and community members created a Facebook group criticizing the district. They complained of computer screen fatigue, inadequate instruction and lack of socialization for students.
“We empathize with those valid concerns, but unfortunately we’re still in the middle of a pandemic,” Eftychiou said.
Drake York, choir director at Millikan High School in Long Beach, leads classes from his home in Long Beach. The virtual format has thrown off his teaching, he said. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
But the decision left Long Beach Millikan High School choir director Drake York unhappy. Internet lags and shoddy microphone recordings for a class dependent on synchrony and rhythm threw a wrench in the teaching methods he’s perfected in his 11 years as an educator.
“There’s a real pacing divide, and this is exacerbated with online learning. Kids who are successful accelerate and leave those who aren’t in the dust,” York said. “A lot of kids are taking on jobs or don’t have a great internet connection, and the district-provided Chromebooks are pretty slow and inconsistent.”
During his class, half the students kept their cameras turned off while others stared elsewhere. At the start of class, one student’s camera was upside down, then 90 degrees to the left for two minutes. It was just one small distraction in a schooling model full of them, he said.
Drake York in his Long Beach home with daughter Paisley, 7, who is attending first-grade classes virtually from home. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
York said he tried his best to engage with the students for the first 40 minutes of class as he lectures on the foundations of music theory. He leads a lesson on rhythm using claps, encouraging others to join in. The remainder of class he provides time to work on assignments independently.
“I used to have over 300 students singing in one room. For them to be able to sing together and be able to socialize and grow together is what makes the class special,” York said.
This time of year, York’s class would be preparing for a retreat in the mountains near Yucaipa and their formal winter concert. Now, he is troubleshooting technology issues and trying to coordinate recording a virtual concert.
His job has become more time-consuming because of connectivity and technology problems, he said.
“The kids, myself and my colleagues are exhausted. We don’t know if this is going to be sustainable for a semester,” York said. “Were not even able to do tutoring or give valid assessment to the students on assignments with this time crunch.”
York said he hopes the district will look into accommodating choir practice outdoors as it does with other sports.
Los Alamitos High had a different concern: whether coming back to campus, even under a hybrid model, would lead to an increase in infections.
Just one week after reopening, on Oct. 6, interim Principal Greg Stone sent an email to Los Alamitos parents notifying them of the school’s first coronavirus case. Stone said thorough cleaning will be done in accordance with Orange County Health Care Agency guidelines.
Supt. Andrew Pulver said the district is creating a COVID dashboard to track cases across school sites and has begun contact tracing at the high school with the health agency.
Last week, high school teachers threatened to strike for safer work conditions but called off the vote because of logistical issues, said David Eisenberg, high school director of the Los Alamitos Educators Assn.
The science teacher said colleagues thought the Sept. 29 return date felt rushed. And though the strike did not occur, Eisenberg said the district has provided new safety guidelines to alleviate the concerns that teachers have expressed.
That includes more fresh air coming in through the air system, new air filters and stricter regulations on what qualifies as a mask, he said.
“We’re still scared about COVID, but we still love our students and we feed off their energy, and that’s something I think the district got right,” Eisenberg said.
Though many parents worry about sending their children back to school, others such as Christina Ynostrosa say the remote-learning experiment has caused tremendous strain. She burst into tears after a parent-teacher conference.
Ynostrosa, a sales and marketing director for a window film manufacturer, does not work from home, so she has to help her three sons — 9-year-old Aaron Villa, 17-year-old Elias Villa and 21-year-old Isaac Villa — get set up and hope they stay on task without her.
Elias, a student at Millikan High School, has attention deficit disorder and struggles to stay engaged.
“I know he struggled in class, but online is so much worse,” Ynostrosa said. “Not that it’s the teachers’ fault, but a child can slip through the cracks very easily.
“I feel like I’m letting my kids down by not being able to look over their schoolwork. I don’t downplay the virus, but I do feel like the district would be able to reopen and keep our kids safe.”


latimes--2020-10-10--Volunteers who help kids in foster care are wanted more than ever during the pandemic

This is the story of a beautiful little girl , now 9 , who loves princesses and unicorns and got a rough start in life .
Her mother tested positive for drugs when she gave birth .
She lived with her father , cared for by his mother , until her grandmother died .
After that , no one vigilantly tended to her needs , though she was only a toddler .
No one signed her up for school when she was old enough for pre-K. At 5½ , she was removed from the care of her family by a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the first of several foster homes .
Stories like this one often gather sadness as they go .
Children rescued from hardship often face more as they bounce through an overburdened system , rarely receiving undivided attention .
But that isn ’ t this little girl ’ s story .
This is a story about what can happen when serious attention is paid — about how it can change a life ’ s course .
Such labor-intensive support is always in critically short supply .
And it ’ s needed now more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those who are most vulnerable more so .
The little girl , who I ’ ve been asked to call Stefanie , though that isn ’ t her name , was in her second foster home when she met Jayne Amelia Larson , a volunteer for CASA of Los Angeles , who had been assigned to her case .
The nonprofit recruits and rigorously trains volunteers to champion individuals in the child welfare system — from newborns to 21-year-olds — who have been abused , neglected or abandoned .
CASA stands for court-appointed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a sworn officer of the court , whose duty is to represent and ardently advocate for one particular child ’ s or young person ’ s best interests .
Others — the social workers , attorneys , the judge in the case — have extraordinarily heavy caseloads .
An L.A. judge might be overseeing more than 1,000 cases at one time , and the social workers and attorneys , hundreds , said CASA ’ s Chief Executive Wende Julien .
A CASA usually is focused on keeping track of every detail — and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — in just one case .
This means poring over records : court files , educational , medical .
It means working to form a strong one-on-one bond .
It means keeping in touch with relatives , friends , teachers , social workers and attorneys to build the fullest understanding of their person ’ s circumstances .
It means attending court hearings and writing periodic reports to the judge handling the case , offering the most complete , objective account possible of their person ’ s past life and current life , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was the desire to get that full picture in order to make the best decisions , Julien told me , that led a Seattle judge to create the CASA system more than 40 years ago .
L.A. soon followed suit .
CASA programs are now in place nationwide .
I ’ m hard-pressed to think of a more serious — or potentially heroic — volunteer commitment .
And I ’ m awed by the fact that in the L.A. area , more than 1,000 people have made it .
But great need remains @ @ @ @ @ @ @ open child welfare cases , Julien , said , and CASA estimates that around 12,000 of those are in desperate need of its services .
The Stefanie that Larson first met was deeply unhappy , often angrily acting out .
She ’ d been removed from her first foster home because she fought the other children .
Few in her family home had modeled appropriate behavior .
Few in her life had offered her the attention she craved .
And here came this unicorn and princess combined .
“ I said to her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I work for you .
I don ’ t work for anybody else .
I am your advocate .
That means I ’ m your voice .
And I work for you , ’ ” Larson told me .
“ She said , ‘ You work for me ?
’ And I said , ‘ Yes , I work for you — and only for you .
And that thrilled her.
” Stefanie had started first grade far behind her peers .
“ She did not know how to hold a pencil or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know hat or cat , ” said Larson , an actor , writer and producer who was the ninth of 10 children but didn ’ t have kids of her own .
She had volunteered for years in arts-focused programs for at-risk kids and had learned about CASA after working with Peace4Kids , a nonprofit that gathers kids in foster care together each weekend .
“ I just knew that I could do more for one kid than what I was doing on Saturdays , ” she told me .
With Stefanie , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s foster parent was struggling to get her extra help at school .
Larson “ went in like gangbusters , ” she said , and demanded the individualized education plan , or IEP , the child needed .
In signing up to be Stefanie ’ s CASA , she ’ d also taken on the extra responsibility of serving as her education rights holder — which gave her the power a parent would have to make educational decisions on her behalf .
About 40 % of CASAs also take on that role @ @ @ @ @ @ @ IEP , Larson said , “ gave her a huge leg up in terms of resource teachers .
She got extra attention .
She got individualized attention .
She was called out into smaller groups so that the teachers could see what needed to be developed .
And she immediately started to do better.
” Because she had behavioral problems , she also was assigned a behavioral therapist , who worked with her in school .
“ She learned you don ’ t stab kids with a pencil when you get mad , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ultimate goal is reunification with families if that ’ s safe — or , if not , other caring relatives or foster parents ready to adopt .
In Stefanie ’ s case , a social worker had identified a cousin in her early 20s who was considering stepping up , though the process was unfolding slowly .
Larson pushed it forward , offering the cousin resources and information and support .
I was lucky enough to get to talk to that cousin , who asked that I use only her first name .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the details I ’ ve shared about Stefanie ’ s background that CASA , because it is an open case , was unable to divulge .
Aileen ’ s uncle is Stefanie ’ s paternal grandfather — who wanted more for the child after his wife died but worked long hours and could not get his own son to do better .
Aileen ’ s mother , already raising a granddaughter , tried to take Stefanie in but wasn ’ t approved .
So Aileen began to try , even though she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
She started visiting Stefanie in foster care and taking her out for adventures .
Stefanie spent much of that time anxious about having to go back .
“ If I was in her place and I needed help , I would want someone to try , ” Aileen told me .
So Aileen and her longtime boyfriend , Yobani , rented a house and started readying it , preparing a pink room with princess sheets for Stefanie , meeting child-proofing requirements , jumping through hoops to be approved .
Aileen took parenting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the effects of trauma , and opened her home for surprise inspections .
Meanwhile , Larson asked the judge first to let Stefanie spent weekends and then longer stretches there .
Stefanie moved in with the couple nearly three years ago .
“ I was really happy because I knew she was going to have a place she could call home , ” Aileen said .
“ I kind of felt that great feeling like when you graduate from high school.
” Stefanie calls the home “ her safe place , ” Aileen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the last crumbs of snacks in their wrappers under her bed to understanding that what she had was secure .
She moved to a great new school where , with Larson ’ s help , she received ample support .
Larson provided books and flashcards .
Aileen , whom Stefanie soon started calling Mommy , read with her every day .
Before long , she had come up to her grade level .
And Larson was always there to push for more help for the fledgling family , getting the court to approve @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Stefanie got dance classes , Larson took her shopping for outfits and shoes , using a fund set aside within CASA to buy things for children in need .
“ She just ran around the store squealing with delight , ” Larson said .
COVID threatened to undo the progress .
Distance learning is hard for Stefanie , but Larson and CASA got her tutors and a donated used iPad .
Then Aileen , who was serving takeout food , caught the virus , followed by Yobani and Stefanie .
At first , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said , that Aileen would die .
But he , Aileen and Larson — known to the family as Jaynie — reassured her .
Larson had food delivered to the family when they were sick .
She pointed them to extra financial resources .
They recovered .
Larson and Stefanie talk via FaceTime frequently .
Lately , Larson has been giving Stefanie acting classes and going with her to swimming classes — and they ’ ve been planning a fashion show .
Yobani told me he didn ’ t have words to describe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s life .
He called her “ our guardian angel.
” And he told me about the very happy child he now lives with , how they discuss their lives at the dinner table every night , how his heart opened up twice over at Stefanie ’ s expanded horizons when she recently asked if she could still live with them when she went to college .
Stories like this one are never simple .
After the judge terminated parental rights for Stefanie ’ s biological parents , her long-absent mother appealed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Aileen are there for whatever happens .
The pandemic and this year ’ s protest movement grew awareness of inequality and injustice .
“ People are wanting to do something that has an immediate impact on bringing justice to a person who ’ s experiencing injustice — and boy do our kids experience injustice at an extraordinary rate , ” Julien told me .
That , and the extra time quarantining gave some people , led to a nice surge in new CASA volunteers since March .
Keep them coming .
This @ @ @ @ @ @ @ girl now receiving constant and unwavering support — and about the need to create many more such stories .

Jayne Amelia Larson, a volunteer at CASA of Los Angeles, holds a drawing created by the young girl whose case she was assigned. The girl drew herself in her “forever home” with her cousin and cousin’s boyfriend.
This is the story of a beautiful little girl, now 9, who loves princesses and unicorns and got a rough start in life.
Her mother tested positive for drugs when she gave birth.
She lived with her father, cared for by his mother, until her grandmother died.
After that, no one vigilantly tended to her needs, though she was only a toddler. No one signed her up for school when she was old enough for pre-K.
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At 5½, she was removed from the care of her family by a social worker and police, and placed in the first of several foster homes.
Stories like this one often gather sadness as they go. Children rescued from hardship often face more as they bounce through an overburdened system, rarely receiving undivided attention.
But that isn’t this little girl’s story.
This is a story about what can happen when serious attention is paid — about how it can change a life’s course.
Such labor-intensive support is always in critically short supply. And it’s needed now more than ever as the COVID-19 pandemic makes those who are most vulnerable more so.
The little girl, who I’ve been asked to call Stefanie, though that isn’t her name, was in her second foster home when she met Jayne Amelia Larson, a volunteer for CASA of Los Angeles, who had been assigned to her case.
The nonprofit recruits and rigorously trains volunteers to champion individuals in the child welfare system — from newborns to 21-year-olds — who have been abused, neglected or abandoned.
CASA stands for court-appointed special advocate. A CASA serves as a sworn officer of the court, whose duty is to represent and ardently advocate for one particular child’s or young person’s best interests. Others — the social workers, attorneys, the judge in the case — have extraordinarily heavy caseloads. An L.A. judge might be overseeing more than 1,000 cases at one time, and the social workers and attorneys, hundreds, said CASA’s Chief Executive Wende Julien.
A CASA usually is focused on keeping track of every detail — and every possible way to help one person — in just one case.
This means poring over records: court files, educational, medical. It means working to form a strong one-on-one bond. It means keeping in touch with relatives, friends, teachers, social workers and attorneys to build the fullest understanding of their person’s circumstances. It means attending court hearings and writing periodic reports to the judge handling the case, offering the most complete, objective account possible of their person’s past life and current life, and problems, progress and needs.
It was the desire to get that full picture in order to make the best decisions, Julien told me, that led a Seattle judge to create the CASA system more than 40 years ago. L.A. soon followed suit. CASA programs are now in place nationwide.
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I’m hard-pressed to think of a more serious — or potentially heroic — volunteer commitment. And I’m awed by the fact that in the L.A. area, more than 1,000 people have made it.
But great need remains. L.A. County has more than 30,000 open child welfare cases, Julien, said, and CASA estimates that around 12,000 of those are in desperate need of its services.
The Stefanie that Larson first met was deeply unhappy, often angrily acting out. She’d been removed from her first foster home because she fought the other children. Few in her family home had modeled appropriate behavior. Few in her life had offered her the attention she craved.
And here came this unicorn and princess combined.
“I said to her, ‘I am your CASA and I work for you. I don’t work for anybody else. I am your advocate. That means I’m your voice. And I work for you,’” Larson told me. “She said, ‘You work for me?’ And I said, ‘Yes, I work for you — and only for you. And that thrilled her.”
CASA of Los Angeles volunteer Jayne Amelia Larson sits near clothing — some from the nonprofit Hope in a Suitcase — that she’s arranged for a fashion show by Stefanie, the child she represents. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Stefanie had started first grade far behind her peers.
“She did not know how to hold a pencil or write one letter. She did not know hat or cat,” said Larson, an actor, writer and producer who was the ninth of 10 children but didn’t have kids of her own.
She had volunteered for years in arts-focused programs for at-risk kids and had learned about CASA after working with Peace4Kids, a nonprofit that gathers kids in foster care together each weekend.
“I just knew that I could do more for one kid than what I was doing on Saturdays,” she told me.
With Stefanie, she got to work fast. Stefanie’s foster parent was struggling to get her extra help at school. Larson “went in like gangbusters,” she said, and demanded the individualized education plan, or IEP, the child needed. In signing up to be Stefanie’s CASA, she’d also taken on the extra responsibility of serving as her education rights holder — which gave her the power a parent would have to make educational decisions on her behalf. About 40% of CASAs also take on that role, Julien said.
Stefanie’s IEP, Larson said, “gave her a huge leg up in terms of resource teachers. She got extra attention. She got individualized attention. She was called out into smaller groups so that the teachers could see what needed to be developed. And she immediately started to do better.”
Because she had behavioral problems, she also was assigned a behavioral therapist, who worked with her in school. “She learned you don’t stab kids with a pencil when you get mad,” Larson said.
CASA’s ultimate goal is reunification with families if that’s safe — or, if not, other caring relatives or foster parents ready to adopt.
In Stefanie’s case, a social worker had identified a cousin in her early 20s who was considering stepping up, though the process was unfolding slowly. Larson pushed it forward, offering the cousin resources and information and support.
I was lucky enough to get to talk to that cousin, who asked that I use only her first name. Aileen was able to tell me many of the details I’ve shared about Stefanie’s background that CASA, because it is an open case, was unable to divulge. Aileen’s uncle is Stefanie’s paternal grandfather — who wanted more for the child after his wife died but worked long hours and could not get his own son to do better.
Aileen’s mother, already raising a granddaughter, tried to take Stefanie in but wasn’t approved. So Aileen began to try, even though she knew doing so would upend her life. She started visiting Stefanie in foster care and taking her out for adventures. Stefanie spent much of that time anxious about having to go back.
“If I was in her place and I needed help, I would want someone to try,” Aileen told me.
So Aileen and her longtime boyfriend, Yobani, rented a house and started readying it, preparing a pink room with princess sheets for Stefanie, meeting child-proofing requirements, jumping through hoops to be approved. Aileen took parenting classes, learning about good discipline and the effects of trauma, and opened her home for surprise inspections. Meanwhile, Larson asked the judge first to let Stefanie spend weekends and then longer stretches there.
Stefanie moved in with the couple nearly three years ago. “I was really happy because I knew she was going to have a place she could call home,” Aileen said. “I kind of felt that great feeling like when you graduate from high school.”
Stefanie calls the home “her safe place,” Aileen told me. She went from hiding the last crumbs of snacks in their wrappers under her bed to understanding that what she had was secure.
She moved to a great new school where, with Larson’s help, she received ample support. Larson provided books and flashcards. Aileen, whom Stefanie soon started calling Mommy, read with her every day. Before long, she had come up to her grade level.
And Larson was always there to push for more help for the fledgling family, getting the court to approve extra services and enrichment classes. When Stefanie got dance classes, Larson took her shopping for outfits and shoes, using a fund set aside within CASA to buy things for children in need. “She just ran around the store squealing with delight,” Larson said.
COVID threatened to undo the progress. Distance learning is hard for Stefanie, but Larson and CASA got her tutors and a donated used iPad. Then Aileen, who was serving takeout food, caught the virus, followed by Yobani and Stefanie. At first, Stefanie was “petrified,” Yobani said, that Aileen would die. But he, Aileen and Larson — known to the family as Jaynie — reassured her.
Larson had food delivered to the family when they were sick. She pointed them to extra financial resources. They recovered.
Larson and Stefanie talk via FaceTime frequently. Lately, Larson has been giving Stefanie acting classes and going with her to swimming classes — and they’ve been planning a fashion show.
Yobani told me he didn’t have words to describe Larson’s presence in the family’s life. He called her “our guardian angel.” And he told me about the very happy child he now lives with, how they discuss their lives at the dinner table every night, how his heart opened up twice over at Stefanie’s expanded horizons when she recently asked if she could still live with them when she went to college.
Stories like this one are never simple. After the judge terminated parental rights for Stefanie’s biological parents, her long-absent mother appealed. But Larson and CASA and Yobani and Aileen are there for whatever happens.
The pandemic and this year’s protest movement grew awareness of inequality and injustice. “People are wanting to do something that has an immediate impact on bringing justice to a person who’s experiencing injustice — and boy do our kids experience injustice at an extraordinary rate,” Julien told me. That, and the extra time quarantining gave some people, led to a nice surge in new CASA volunteers since March. Keep them coming.
This is a story about a beautiful little girl now receiving constant and unwavering support — and about the need to create many more such stories.


latimes--2020-10-10--With lessons learned from deadly wildfires, Sonoma County improves evacuation planning

When wildfire evacuations were ordered in and around Santa Rosa recently , the smoke and chaos reminded many of the terrible firestorm that had killed dozens of people and destroyed thousands of homes three years earlier .
But unlike that earlier fire — when first responders were overwhelmed and emergency officials were hesitant to order evacuations — this year was different .
Emergency information was broadcast via TV , radio and the internet .
Many cellphones buzzed and beeped , while sirens blared and police darted door to door knocking and shouting for residents to get out .
Though damage @ @ @ @ @ @ @ assessed , it is clear that during its night run on Sept. 27 , fewer homes were destroyed , compared with the 2017 firestorm .
And , more significantly , nobody was killed .
While less-severe fire conditions certainly played a role — the blaze started earlier in the evening with winds topping out at 65 mph instead of more than 80 mph in 2017 — officials say the community ’ s preparedness was also key in things running more smoothly .
“ Sonoma County — literally trial by fire , ” said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1st District supervisor , who lost her Oakmont home in the 2017 Tubbs fire .
“ We are seasoned and eager to share our expertise and information.
” The toll of the natural disasters that struck California in 2017 and 2018 was staggering .
In just 14 months , multiple wildfires and a mudslide killed more than 150 people , destroyed more than 30,000 homes and businesses , bankrupted California ’ s biggest utility and sparked more than $ 30 billion in insurance claims , forcing at least one insurer to go under @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reassess its laissez-faire approach to local emergency response and to put forward a set of standardized guidelines communities could adopt to streamline their preparations and response when emergencies blend across jurisdictions .
Sonoma County has taken several of those guidelines to heart and used them earlier this week when the Glass fire approached , said its director of emergency management , Christopher Godley .
“ When it came in , it met a county that was better prepared , ” Godley said .
Sonoma County ’ s response began before the fire was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forecast for the weekend , county firefighters divided themselves into strike teams so they could be deployed in preset groups as soon as a rapidly growing fire was reported .
The county ’ s emergency management department , with between four and five full-time employees and a $ 850,000 budget in 2017 , now has 11 full-time workers and operates with $ 2.4 million in county funds and grants , Godley said .
The department is also staffed by at least one person 24 hours a day and has more workers trained on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ alerts to the public — which was a communications bottleneck three years ago .
Also , the county had already identified senior care living facilities full of vulnerable residents , so the city of Santa Rosa sent shuttle buses into the evacuation zone to help get residents out when the evacuation orders came , Godley said .
Traffic backed up on Highway 12 for more than an hour as the evacuations unfolded , but eventually cleared , officials said .
“ This isn ’ t our first rodeo experiencing this and I think @ @ @ @ @ @ @ together to evacuate safely and effectively , ” Santa Rosa Mayor Tom Schwedhelm said during a recent community update that included a sign-language interpreter .
While counties have traditionally overlooked non-English speaking and other marginalized communities in their emergency planning and response , Sonoma County ’ s alert page now includes a Spanish-language version .
Regardless , community advocates say , there is still more outreach work to be done .
Once the fire was reported , other aspects of the county ’ s updated response rolled out , Godley said .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ within an hour , along with the first messages to foothill and isolated residents to pack up and either get ready to leave , or just flat-out go .
Because the county had already broken up Santa Rosa and surrounding areas into evacuation zones , they could quickly pick areas to alert instead of having to carve out their targets street by street .
Despite the area ’ s recent history of fires , including the massive Kincade fire that threatened communities for weeks last year , some residents still refused to heed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or shuttled out later by ambulance , officials said .
“ The rugged individualist that may be living at the end or middle of a very windy road for generations , they ’ re the folks that think they can stay to fight the fires and some sadly perish , ” Gorin said .
In general , more people heeded evacuation orders on Sunday than used to , city and county officials said .
“ It ’ s a new realization that the fires we had even 20 years ago are not the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have to proclaim very loudly and publicly , ‘ it ’ s time to get out now , ’ ” Gorin said .
Two residents , on the other hand , emailed the Federal Communications Commission , complaining about the lack of clarity in the county ’ s emergency broadcast that interrupted their TV programming .
The messages were unclear , they said , and the automated voice reading out instructions was fuzzy .
Many of the critiques should have been directed to the person ’ s cable provider or can be attributed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the agency replied to the residents in an email .
“ Overall , ” one FCC email to a resident read , “ it appears Sonoma County issued 19 warning messages last night without a single error or failure .
That is quite an impressive effort.
” For comparison , when Napa County attempted to send out an Amber Alert-style wireless emergency notice to its residents last month during a wildfire , the message initially failed and had to be sent out through other means .
Overall , the changes within Sonoma County @ @ @ @ @ @ @ within emergency management about the need for a more independent role in policymaking , as opposed to being a line item in a police or fire department budget .
In March , for example , Los Angeles County removed Sheriff Alex Villanueva as the head of its emergency operations center , citing a recommendation in an after-action report following the 2018 Woolsey fire .
“ People are taking notice , ” Godley said .
“ Fifteen years ago , we were looking for a tipping point when this would become part of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think it would happen until 2030 , but clearly this fire , flooding events and extreme weather has pushed it to the forefront here in California .
”

Redwood City firefighters put out hot spots on a home in the Skyhawk community of Santa Rosa, where the Glass fire burned through Sept. 28.
When wildfire evacuations were ordered in and around Santa Rosa recently, the smoke and chaos reminded many of the terrible firestorm that had killed dozens of people and destroyed thousands of homes three years earlier.
But unlike that earlier fire — when first responders were overwhelmed and emergency officials were hesitant to order evacuations — this year was different. Emergency information was broadcast via TV, radio and the internet. Many cellphones buzzed and beeped, while sirens blared and police darted door to door knocking and shouting for residents to get out.
Though damage from the Glass fire is still being assessed, it is clear that during its night run Sept. 27, fewer homes were destroyed compared with the 2017 firestorm. And, more significant, nobody was killed. Though less severe fire conditions certainly played a role — the blaze started earlier in the evening with winds topping out at 65 mph instead of more than 80 mph in 2017 — officials say the community’s preparedness was also key in things running more smoothly.
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“Sonoma County — literally trial by fire,” said Susan Gorin, the county chair and 1st District supervisor, who lost her Oakmont home in the 2017 Tubbs fire. “We are seasoned and eager to share our expertise and information.”
The toll of the natural disasters that struck California in 2017 and 2018 was staggering. In just 14 months, multiple wildfires and a mudslide killed more than 150 people, destroyed more than 30,000 homes and businesses, bankrupted California’s biggest utility and sparked more than $30 billion in insurance claims, forcing at least one insurer to go under.
But it also forced California to reassess its laissez-faire approach to local emergency response and to put forward a set of standardized guidelines that communities could adopt to streamline their preparations and response when emergencies blend across jurisdictions. Sonoma County has taken several of those guidelines to heart and used them recently when the Glass fire approached, said its director of emergency management, Christopher Godley.
“When it came in, it met a county that was better prepared,” Godley said.
Sonoma County’s response began before the fire was even reported. With red flag conditions forecast for the last weekend in September, county firefighters divided themselves into strike teams so they could be deployed in preset groups as soon as a rapidly growing fire was reported.
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The county’s Emergency Management Department, with four to five full-time employees and an $850,000 budget in 2017, now has 11 full-time workers and operates with $2.4 million in county funds and grants, Godley said. The department is also staffed by at least one person 24 hours a day and has more workers trained on how to write and send out emergency alerts to the public — which was a communications bottleneck three years ago.
Also, the county had already identified senior care living facilities full of vulnerable residents, so the city of Santa Rosa sent shuttle buses into the evacuation zone to help get residents out when the evacuation orders came, Godley said. Traffic backed up on Highway 12 for more than an hour as the evacuations unfolded, but it eventually cleared, officials said.
“This isn’t our first rodeo experiencing this, and I think everyone now understands we have to work together to evacuate safely and effectively,” Santa Rosa Mayor Tom Schwedhelm said during a recent community update that included a sign-language interpreter.
Counties have traditionally overlooked non-English speaking and other marginalized communities in their emergency planning and response. Sonoma County’s alert page now includes a Spanish-language version; regardless, community advocates say, there is still more outreach work to be done.
Once the fire was reported, other aspects of the county’s updated response rolled out, Godley said. The emergency operations center was up and running within an hour, along with the first messages to foothill and isolated residents to pack up and either get ready to leave or just flat-out go. Because the county had already broken up Santa Rosa and surrounding areas into evacuation zones, officials could quickly pick areas to alert instead of having to carve out their targets street by street.
Despite the area’s recent history of fires, including the massive Kincade fire that threatened communities for weeks last year, some residents still refused to heed evacuation orders and had to be rescued or shuttled out later by ambulance, officials said.
“The rugged individualist that may be living at the end or middle of a very windy road for generations, they’re the folks that think they can stay to fight the fires and some sadly perish,” Gorin said.
In general, more people heeded evacuation orders for the Glass fire than used to, city and county officials said.
“It’s a new realization that the fires we had even 20 years ago are not the fires that we have today. You have to proclaim very loudly and publicly, ‘It’s time to get out now,’” Gorin said.
Two residents, on the other hand, emailed the Federal Communications Commission, complaining about the lack of clarity in the county’s emergency broadcast that interrupted their TV programming. The messages were unclear, they said, and the automated voice reading out instructions was fuzzy.
Many of the critiques should have been directed to the person’s cable provider or can be attributed to FCC rules surrounding emergency messaging, the agency replied to the residents in an email.
“Overall,” one FCC email to a resident read, “it appears Sonoma County issued 19 warning messages last night without a single error or failure. That is quite an impressive effort.”
For comparison, when Napa County attempted to send out an Amber Alert-style wireless emergency notice to its residents last month during a wildfire, the message initially failed and had to be sent out through other means.
Overall, the changes within Sonoma County since 2017 underline a broader conversation happening within emergency management about the need for a more independent role in policymaking, as opposed to being a line item in a police or fire department budget.
In March, for example, Los Angeles County removed Sheriff Alex Villanueva as the head of its emergency operations center, citing a recommendation in an after-action report following the 2018 Woolsey fire.
“People are taking notice,” Godley said. “Fifteen years ago, we were looking for a tipping point when this would become part of the mainstream consciousness. I didn’t think it would happen until 2030, but clearly this fire, flooding events and extreme weather has pushed it to the forefront here in California.”


latimes--2020-10-10--She is naked, sick, dirty, crawling across Sunset Boulevard —  how can this happen in L.A.?

She is barefoot , caked in dirt , may be pregnant and is often naked as she wanders the streets of Silver Lake .
Neighbors know her as Kristal , and she ’ s been deteriorating before their eyes .
They have been looping me in on their urgent emails and social media posts during the last week , as they gave updates on Kristal ’ s mental and physical condition and reached out to local officials for help .
One resident said she came upon Kristal one night while driving on Sunset Boulevard .
Kristal “ was in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ … scooting on the road on her hands and knees , ” the driver posted on social media .
“ She was so filthy you couldn ’ t even see her until she was in your headlights.
” The story , unfortunately , sounds so heartbreakingly familiar here in the homelessness capital of the United States .
Nearly four homeless people die daily in Los Angeles County , and so many others are visibly tormented by mental illness .
I started the week working on a column about homelessness with a happier ending @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one soon .
But the pleas about Kristal sounded urgent .
And Saturday is World Mental Health Day — a day to reflect on the fact that close to 1 billion people had a mental disorder pre-coronavirus , according to the event ’ s organizers , but for various reasons , the majority don ’ t get help .
So I made a few phone calls .
Two social workers at a nonprofit told me some of Kristal ’ s background , saying she and her boyfriend were tough cases because of their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to help .
They ’ d been hospitalized , they ’ d been housed , and yet multiple interventions by various agencies had not helped turn them around .
Los Angeles City Councilman Mitch O ’ Farrell told me he and his staff have been trying for months to work with county officials to get help for Kristal .
She had been hospitalized multiple times , O ’ Farrell said , but always ended up back in her routines , desperate as ever , but adamantly refusing offers of help .
On Thursday @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the county mental health director , saying he feared Kristal will meet a tragic end if she isn ’ t soon given medical attention .
“ She was almost hit by a bus a week ago and by a vehicle this past weekend while crawling across Sunset Boulevard at night .
The police responded to calls only to have her boyfriend … physically pick her up and carry her away refusing services , ” O ’ Farrell said in the letter .
Charlotte Innes , who lives near Sunset and Descanso Drive @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in and around that intersection for at least three years .
Innes said some neighbors have gotten involved out of compassion and others out of frustration , and she understands both , saying there have been episodes of late-night screaming , defecating in public , trespassing and lots of drug-related activities .
On Thursday , late afternoon , residents told me they had seen Kristal and her boyfriend sleeping in a little alcove at a car wash on Sunset .
I drove over and found them there , still asleep , nestled up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ strewn about .
They were barefoot , lying on a blanket that covered the grimy pavement .
When Kristal woke up , I tried to engage , calling out to her several times .
She didn ’ t respond or even acknowledge me .
It was as if my presence and my voice didn ’ t register .
Her face was dark with dirt — dark as charcoal .
I couldn ’ t tell whether she was 20 or 50 ; years on the streets had erased the normal features of age .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ could see that the bottom of one bare foot was pocked with wounds .
As one neighbor asked on social media : “ Are we going to let her die of neglect right in front of our eyes ?
” It ’ s not neglect , exactly .
In the city and county of Los Angeles , the outreach to mentally ill homeless people is made up of a thousand moving parts and an army of good people doing noble work .
But because of bureaucracy , legal barriers and a lack of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many people fall through the cracks , and one great weakness is that there ’ s not enough follow-up when someone is released from care .
Some cases are extremely complicated , said Dr. Jonathan Sherin , L.A. County mental health director , and he is working on new strategies to engage those who resist help .
He said “ the system needs a significant dose of additional resources ” flexible enough to meet specific needs .
“ I would say on Mental Health Day , in light of the trauma our nation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the specter of racial injustice as well as the homeless epidemic , mental health has clearly got to be prioritized as a human need and a right , ” Sherin said .
He told me efforts have been underway to get Kristal conserved , a legal step in making sure she gets whatever help she needs .
Outreach workers had been in touch with her early in the week , he said , and a doctor was being sent back Friday afternoon to determine whether she needs immediate hospitalization .
I know from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ help someone with severe mental illness who resists help .
I know how long it can take to have a breakthrough , that sometimes there is no breakthrough and that your humanity demands you keep trying .
Against the drab gray wall of the car wash stall in Silver Lake , Kristal and her boyfriend looked like cave dwellers .
In civil society , you have to fight against becoming overwhelmed or jaded ; you have to demand more of policymakers and of those who resist housing and other services in their neighborhoods @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s level of deterioration , suffering and indignity to become acceptable .
Friday afternoon , Sherin texted me with an update : “ She has deteriorated significantly since the prior exam earlier in the week .
Ambulance coming … ''

She is barefoot, caked in dirt, may be pregnant and is often naked as she wanders the streets of Silver Lake.
Neighbors know her as Kristal, and she’s been deteriorating before their eyes.
They have been looping me in on their urgent emails and social media posts during the last week, as they gave updates on Kristal’s mental and physical condition and reached out to local officials for help. One resident said she came upon Kristal one night while driving on Sunset Boulevard.
Kristal “was in the middle of Sunset, unable to walk … scooting on the road on her hands and knees,” the driver posted on social media. “She was so filthy you couldn’t even see her until she was in your headlights.”
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The story, unfortunately, sounds so heartbreakingly familiar here in the homelessness capital of the United States. Nearly four homeless people die daily in Los Angeles County, and so many others are visibly tormented by mental illness. I started the week working on a column about homelessness with a happier ending, and I’ll write that one soon.
But the pleas about Kristal sounded urgent. And Saturday is World Mental Health Day — a day to reflect on the fact that close to 1 billion people had a mental disorder pre-coronavirus, according to the event’s organizers, but for various reasons, the majority don’t get help. So I made a few phone calls.
Two social workers at a nonprofit told me some of Kristal’s background, saying she and her boyfriend were tough cases because of their illness and addiction, and their resistance to help. They’d been hospitalized, they’d been housed, and yet multiple interventions by various agencies had not helped turn them around.
Los Angeles City Councilman Mitch O’Farrell told me he and his staff have been trying for months to work with county officials to get help for Kristal. She had been hospitalized multiple times, O’Farrell said, but always ended up back in her routines, desperate as ever, but adamantly refusing offers of help.
Kristal and her boyfriend, Julio, walk together at a car wash in Silver Lake where they are often seen. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
On Thursday, O’Farrell sent a letter to the county mental health director, saying he feared Kristal will meet a tragic end if she isn’t soon given medical attention.
“She was almost hit by a bus a week ago and by a vehicle this past weekend while crawling across Sunset Boulevard at night. The police responded to calls only to have her boyfriend … physically pick her up and carry her away refusing services,” O’Farrell said in the letter.
Charlotte Innes, who lives near Sunset and Descanso Drive, told me she has seen Kristal in and around that intersection for at least three years. Innes said some neighbors have gotten involved out of compassion and others out of frustration, and she understands both, saying there have been episodes of late-night screaming, defecating in public, trespassing and lots of drug-related activities.
On Thursday, late afternoon, residents told me they had seen Kristal and her boyfriend sleeping in a little alcove at a car wash on Sunset. I drove over and found them there, still asleep, nestled up against each other, trash and belongings strewn about. They were barefoot, lying on a blanket that covered the grimy pavement.
Advertisement
When Kristal woke up, I tried to engage, calling out to her several times. She didn’t respond or even acknowledge me. It was as if my presence and my voice didn’t register. Her face was dark with dirt — dark as charcoal. I couldn’t tell whether she was 20 or 50; years on the streets had erased the normal features of age. She lay back down, and I could see that the bottom of one bare foot was pocked with wounds.
As one neighbor asked on social media:
“Are we going to let her die of neglect right in front of our eyes?”
It’s not neglect, exactly. In the city and county of Los Angeles, the outreach to mentally ill homeless people is made up of a thousand moving parts and an army of good people doing noble work.
But because of bureaucracy, legal barriers and a lack of specific resources at certain times, too many people fall through the cracks, and one great weakness is that there’s not enough follow-up when someone is released from care.
Some cases are extremely complicated, said Dr. Jonathan Sherin, L.A. County mental health director, and he is working on new strategies to engage those who resist help. He said “the system needs a significant dose of additional resources” flexible enough to meet specific needs.
“I would say on Mental Health Day, in light of the trauma our nation is experiencing from COVID, and from the specter of racial injustice as well as the homeless epidemic, mental health has clearly got to be prioritized as a human need and a right,” Sherin said.
Advertisement
He told me efforts have been underway to get Kristal conserved, a legal step in making sure she gets whatever help she needs. Outreach workers had been in touch with her early in the week, he said, and a doctor was being sent back Friday afternoon to determine whether she needs immediate hospitalization.
I know from personal experience how hard it is to help someone with severe mental illness who resists help. I know how long it can take to have a breakthrough, that sometimes there is no breakthrough and that your humanity demands you keep trying.
Against the drab gray wall of the car wash stall in Silver Lake, Kristal and her boyfriend looked like cave dwellers. In civil society, you have to fight against becoming overwhelmed or jaded; you have to demand more of policymakers and of those who resist housing and other services in their neighborhoods. You cannot allow Kristal’s level of deterioration, suffering and indignity to become acceptable.
Friday afternoon, Sherin texted me with an update:
“She has deteriorated significantly since the prior exam earlier in the week. Ambulance coming …”
steve.lopez@latimes.com


latimes--2020-10-09--Private fire crews in wine country raise concerns over equity and safety

As California wildfires get worse , the role of private firefighting crews helping well-heeled clients protect their property has become a growing issue from Brentwood and Malibu to Santa Barbara and Napa .
Authorities are now investigating new allegations that private crews set illegal backfires last week during the destructive Glass fire , which has swept through wine country .
California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection investigators confirmed they were examining the claims but provided few details about the location of the backfires or who hired the crews .
The Glass fire has destroyed numerous wineries in Napa and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Highway 12 , the main road through wine country .
The investigation is heightening scrutiny around the use of private crews , which has been a repeated source of concern among fire departments and was the subject of new laws after numerous private companies were seen across Malibu and Calabasas during the 2018 Woolsey fire .
Private firefighters were credited with helping save Kanye West and Kim Kardashian ’ s $ 60-million Calabasas mansion from the Woolsey fire .
“ We were able to get private firefighters , ” Kardashian told Ellen DeGeneres @ @ @ @ @ @ @ saved our home and saved our neighborhood.
” Brian Rice , president of California Professional Firefighters , a labor union representing more than 30,000 professional firefighters in the state , said he was not surprised private crews joined the fight in wine country .
“ The Glass fire ... is just part and parcel of the issues and the problems that we are running into with private , for-profit fire protection companies , ” Rice said .
“ If they ’ re behind fire lines , they are an absolute liability to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Rice said for-profit firefighting groups have become something of a cottage industry in California in recent years , particularly as the state has experienced an uptick in wildfire activity .
And when private , for-profit groups come in and don ’ t follow protocol , they can confuse residents , get in the way of firefighting activities or even require assistance themselves .
“ Let ’ s not mince words , ” Rice said .
“ They ’ re here to make a profit , and they ’ re here to make a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are suffering in some of the worst fire tragedies in history.
” Backfires are typically used by professional firefighting agencies to consume fuel in the path of a wildfire or to change the direction of a blaze .
But private firefighters — civilians often hired by insurance companies to protect defensible spaces like homes and properties — are not authorized to use them as a defense mechanism .
Instead , they are supposed to do preemptive work such as clearing vegetation , setting up perimeter sprinkler systems , or spraying the area around @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The goal is to prevent flames from reaching a structure .
“ They are not to fight fire when they ’ re in there , ” Cal Fire spokesman Scott McLean said .
“ They are not to make a stand.
” During the 2018 Woolsey fire , private firefighters in the tony Bell Canyon neighborhood of Ventura generated complaints from fire officials who said they didn ’ t always coordinate with local crews .
“ It ’ s a liability and safety issue , ” Ventura County Fire Capt .
Brian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from California Professional Firefighters said interference from private firefighters became such a problem during the 2018 fires that the group sponsored legislation to try to regulate the service .
, passed by Gov .
Gavin Newsom in September of that year , required the development of standards and regulations to govern private firefighters .
Among the requirements : Private firefighters must heed all evacuation orders , check in with fire operators before entering an area and focus primarily on pre-fire and nonemergency activities outside restricted areas to minimize potential liability .
The backfires @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have occurred last weekend , when red flag warnings indicating hot , dry conditions were in effect .
The Glass fire has burned through more than 67,000 acres since igniting Sept. 27 .
Sometimes seen as a “ white-glove service ” for homeowners in well-to-do neighborhoods , private firefighting services have raised eyebrows for creating potential inequities in the land of wildfires — making it easier for wealthy people to protect their homes while leaving little recourse for those without flush resources .
But David Torgerson , CEO of Montana-based Wildfire Defense Systems @ @ @ @ @ @ @ contractors in the nation — said there are no inequities in the services they provide , which are becoming standard policy for insurance company packages .
“ In the programs that we serve , 90 % are average-value homes , ” Torgerson said .
“ And because there ’ s dozens of insurance companies that offer this , anybody can have it .
They just have to ask their agent or broker.
” Wildfire Defense Systems has deployed to more than 900 wildfires on behalf of the insurance industry since 2008 , including @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the express purpose of preventing structures from igniting .
According to the National Wildfire Suppression Assn.
, there are more than 11,300 private firefighters nationwide .
Torgerson said that federal and state governments are actually the biggest users of private wildfire contractors , and that the insurance industry is only second .
Roughly 3 % work directly for landowners — and it ’ s those who create a lot of the issues .
“ This very small fraction of wildfire contractors is getting all this attention , ” he said , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re referring to in those media articles.
” Janet Ruiz , spokeswoman for industry group Insurance Information Institute , said there are a “ few dozen ” insurance agencies that contract groups year-round to do on-site wildfire hazard assessments and proactive defense , such as clearing pine needles from roofs , moving wood away from houses and spraying retardant .
Insurance firms like AIG , Chubb and USAA have provided the services in wildfire-prone states for more than a decade , but an increase in requests for the services has coincided with the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The groups also offer post-fire services , including returning combustible materials that may have been relocated from homes , or removing firefighting gel from where it was applied .
Like Torgerson , Ruiz said state agencies such as Cal Fire usually “ welcome all the help they can get , ” and that it ’ s only the bad apples that spoil the bunch .
“ The only times they ’ re not happy is when it ’ s people doing things like coming on the scene to fight fire and not checking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ etc.
, ” she said .
“ That ’ s not what the insurance industry is supporting.
” But wildfires in California are unlike anywhere else on earth , Rice said , save for possibly Australia .
The terrain is brutal , and the blazes are complex , and anyone coming into the area will be facing one of the most unpredictable and unprecedented eras in wildfire history .
“ It is incredibly risky .
It is incredibly hazardous , ” Rice said .
“ And I can just see the profit motivation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Cal Fire has not yet named the agencies or firefighters being investigated for the backfires in Napa and Sonoma , but Rice said if the claims are proved , it could be considered arson .
Setting backfires requires highly skilled , highly trained and highly certified firefighting officials .
“ It is a planned process , and we are very meticulous about what we do , ” said McLean , the Cal Fire spokesman .
“ Putting fire on the ground is very serious business .
”

A firefighter uses a drip torch during a backfire operation Sept. 29 as the Glass fire approaches in Calistoga.
As California wildfires get worse, the role of private firefighting crews helping well-heeled clients protect their property has become a growing issue from Brentwood and Malibu to Napa and Sonoma.
Authorities are now investigating new allegations that private crews set illegal backfires last week during the destructive Glass fire, which has swept through wine country. California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection investigators confirmed that they were examining the claims but provided few details about the location of the backfires or who hired the crews.
The Glass fire has destroyed numerous wineries in Napa and Sonoma counties and hit upscale communities along Highway 12, one of the main roads through wine country.
The investigation is heightening scrutiny around the use of private crews, which has been a repeated source of concern among fire departments and was the subject of new laws after numerous private companies were seen across Malibu and Calabasas during the 2018 Woolsey fire.
Private firefighters were credited with helping save Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s $60-million Calabasas mansion from the Woolsey fire.
“We were able to get private firefighters,” Kardashian told Ellen DeGeneres in a 2018 interview. “They saved our home and saved our neighborhood.”
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Brian Rice, president of California Professional Firefighters, a labor union representing more than 30,000 professional firefighters in the state, said he was not surprised private crews joined the fight in wine country.
“The Glass fire … is just part and parcel of the issues and the problems that we are running into with private, for-profit fire protection companies,” Rice said. “If they’re behind fire lines, they are an absolute liability to the community and to the fire department.”
Rice said for-profit firefighting groups have become something of a cottage industry in California in recent years, particularly as the state has experienced an uptick in wildfire activity. And when private, for-profit groups come in and don’t follow protocol, they can confuse residents, get in the way of firefighting activities or even require assistance themselves.
“Let’s not mince words,” Rice said. “They’re here to make a profit, and they’re here to make a profit on the backs of Californians that are suffering in some of the worst fire tragedies in history.”
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Backfires are typically used by professional firefighting agencies to consume fuel in the path of a wildfire or to change the direction of a blaze.
But private firefighters — civilians often hired by insurance companies to protect defensible spaces such as homes and properties — are not authorized to use them as a defense mechanism. Instead, they are supposed to do preemptive work such as clearing vegetation, setting up perimeter sprinkler systems or spraying the area around a property with fire-blocking gel or retardant. The goal is to prevent flames from reaching a structure.
“They are not to fight fire when they’re in there,” Cal Fire spokesman Scott McLean said. “They are not to make a stand.”
During the 2018 Woolsey fire, private firefighters in the tony Bell Canyon neighborhood of Ventura County generated complaints from fire officials who said they didn’t always coordinate with local crews.
“It’s a liability and safety issue,” Ventura County Fire Capt. Brian McGrath said at the time.
Officials from California Professional Firefighters said interference from private firefighters became such a problem during the 2018 fires that the group sponsored legislation to try to regulate the service.
Assembly Bill 2380 , signed by Gov. Gavin Newsom in September of that year, required the development of standards and regulations to govern private firefighters.
Among the requirements: Private firefighters must heed all evacuation orders, check in with fire operators before entering an area and focus primarily on pre-fire and nonemergency activities outside restricted areas to minimize potential liability.
The backfires in Napa and Sonoma counties are alleged to have occurred last weekend, when red flag warnings indicating hot, dry conditions were in effect. The Glass fire has burned through more than 67,000 acres since igniting Sept. 27.
Sometimes seen as a “white-glove service” for homeowners in well-to-do neighborhoods, private firefighting services have raised eyebrows for creating potential inequities in the land of wildfires — making it easier for wealthy people to protect their homes while leaving little recourse for those without flush resources.
But David Torgerson, chief executive of Montana-based Wildfire Defense Systems — one of the leading private firefighter contractors in the nation — said there are no inequities in the services his company provides, which are becoming standard policy for insurance company packages.
“In the programs that we serve, 90% are average-value homes,” Torgerson said. “And because there’s dozens of insurance companies that offer this, anybody can have it. They just have to ask their agent or broker.”
Wildfire Defense Systems has deployed to more than 900 wildfires on behalf of the insurance industry since 2008, including 70 in California this year alone, with the express purpose of preventing structures from igniting.
Torgerson said federal and state governments are the biggest users of private wildfire contractors. (More than 11,300 firefighters contract with state and government agencies nationwide, according to the National Wildfire Suppression Assn.). The insurance industry comes in second, and roughly 3% work directly for landowners.
It’s those who create a lot of the issues, Torgerson said.
“This very small fraction of wildfire contractors is getting all this attention,” he said, “and that’s what they’re referring to in those media articles.”
Janet Ruiz, spokeswoman for industry group Insurance Information Institute, said a “few dozen” insurance agencies contract groups year-round to do on-site wildfire hazard assessments and proactive defense, such as clearing pine needles from roofs, moving wood away from houses and spraying retardant.
Insurance firms such as AIG, Chubb and USAA have provided the services in wildfire-prone states for more than a decade, but an increase in requests for the services has coincided with the nation’s increasing wildfire risk , she said.
The groups also offer post-fire services, including returning combustible materials that may have been relocated from homes or removing firefighting gel from where it was applied.
Like Torgerson, Ruiz said state agencies such as Cal Fire usually “welcome all the help they can get,” adding that it’s only the bad apples that spoil the bunch.
“The only times they’re not happy is when it’s people doing things like coming on the scene to fight fire and not checking in, not showing their credentials, etc.,” she said. “That’s not what the insurance industry is supporting.”
But wildfires in California are unlike anywhere else on Earth, Rice said, save for possibly Australia. The terrain is brutal, the blazes are complex, and anyone coming into the area will be facing one of the most unpredictable and unprecedented eras in wildfire history.
“It is incredibly risky. It is incredibly hazardous,” Rice said. “And I can just see the profit motivation beginning to take hold across the West.”
Cal Fire has not yet named the agencies or firefighters being investigated for the backfires in Napa and Sonoma counties, but Rice said that if the claims are proved, it could be considered arson. Setting backfires requires highly skilled, highly trained and highly certified firefighting officials.
“It is a planned process, and we are very meticulous about what we do,” said McLean, the Cal Fire spokesman. “Putting fire on the ground is very serious business.”


latimes--2020-10-11--Column: The Los Angeles we love is dying in 2020. We must fight to save it

Bruce Abraham , 67 , can recall his first trips to Vroman ’ s Bookstore in Pasadena .
He was 5 at the time .
“ It would be heartbreaking to see this place fall , ” said Abraham , a retired paralegal who lives in Sunland and visits the store “ several times a week ” for periodicals , books and browsing .
Upstairs , in the children ’ s book section , Alicia Procello and her son Martise told me they ’ re longtime customers , too .
I asked Martise , now 12 , how old he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ You can ’ t reinvent this place , ” said his mother .
And let ’ s hope nobody has to .
But Vroman ’ s has put out a plea for help to customers , saying the coronavirus may do them in .
So has Chevalier ’ s Books in Larchmont Village , another beloved local institution .
They ’ ve joined a growing list of local mom-and-pop stores and independent restaurants that are in trouble or have already shut the door for good .
Given that we have no idea @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to return to normal , I ’ m beginning to worry about what the greater Los Angeles landscape is going to look like after the pandemic .
The Pacific Dining Car near downtown Los Angeles , with its late-night breakfast and tuxedoed staff , may not be taking on any more passengers , having sold off its fixtures and gone to selling steaks online .
Stan ’ s Donuts in Westwood is finished after 55 years , and Chinatown ’ s Plum Tree Inn has checked out after more than 40 years .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ O ’ Farrell , who told me a lot of the businesses in his district are struggling , and then he mentioned that Musso & Frank Grill in Hollywood was suffering because it wasn ’ t set up for outdoor dining or takeout service .
My heart flipped .
L.A. without Musso & Frank — which just turned 100 — is not L.A.
They ’ d probably put an Outback Steakhouse there and I ’ d have to move to San Francisco or somewhere .
But not to worry .
“ We ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” said owner/operator Mark Echeverria .
He told me the restaurant owns the building , so there ’ s no rent payment stacking up .
In fact , he said , the restaurant is still covering healthcare premiums for its furloughed staff .
But he , too , worries about Los Angeles post-virus .
“ I am afraid L.A. is going to lose some of its historical identity , ” Echeverria said .
“ I think as a city we need to rally around our history and support it as much as we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can be a good thing , and we live in an ever-evolving city .
But can ’ t we keep some of the old , along with the new ?
“ Friends , the past few months have been the most difficult in our company ’ s 126-year history and Vroman ’ s needs your help to stay open , ” the Pasadena bookstore ’ s owners wrote in a tweet to 21,000 followers .
I ’ m going to admit to two things : One , a preference for local mom-and-pops over @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all , a big part of the appeal and the spirit of Los Angeles , the land of a million scrappy , independent forays .
And two , a soft spot for Vroman ’ s .
With all the books , cards , magazines , stationery , housewares and novelties , it ’ s like a small department store , but you can always find a quiet , carpeted corner , plop down with a book and feel as if you ’ re in your own living room .
It ’ s where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was learning to read and loved browsing the store ’ s huge second-floor children ’ s section , which was better than going to Disneyland .
And long before that , my wife and I would meet at Vroman ’ s and then go to a movie next door at the Laemmle , which , by the way , is a local treasure that was struggling to survive even before the pandemic .
Actually , I have to admit to a third thing , even though it ’ s unflattering .
Last week @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a friend , and without a second thought , I went into my Amazon account to buy it .
Just after that I got an email from Vroman ’ s owner , asking if I wanted to drop by and talk about his struggle to survive .
What a fool and a hypocrite I ’ d been .
With several months of limited travel and brick-and-mortar shopping excursions during the pandemic , I ’ d become even more addicted to the convenience of e-commerce .
When I realized I could have ordered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , or picked it up in person , I tried to cancel my Amazon order , but it was too late .
Joel Sheldon , the majority owner , did not kick me out of his store as penance for my sin .
And I tried to redeem myself by buying the same book for another friend .
But he said that for a store that has survived wars , recessions , the advent of big-box chain bookstores , e-books and even Amazon — the last two years were its most profitable ever @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Sometimes you get caught up in what I call sweeps of history and it doesn ’ t make any difference how smart you are or how strong or well-financed , ” Sheldon said .
“ You can be swept away by a tidal wave .
We ’ re in a pandemic and it ’ s a tsunami.
” There ’ s a cruel irony in what ’ s happening to independent bookstores , Sheldon said .
With more down time , people are doing a lot of reading , but they ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ house , so they ’ re shopping on Amazon even though Vroman ’ s is a good local option for buying books online .
It ’ s a case of the rich getting richer , while neighborhood anchors — the kinds of places that are invested in their communities , and give them a sense of history , place and identity in a land of homogenous behemoths — slip further into peril .
UCLA professor Paul Ong told me he ’ s still analyzing research on the impact of the coronavirus on independently @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but some preliminary trends are already clear .
“ On average , businesses in ethnic neighborhoods … are not faring as well , ” said Ong .
“ We suspect that a number of these have gone under , and we ’ re talking to some community folks close to the ground who are saying that many of these businesses will not be back.
” Ong said Sherman Oaks , Larchmont Village and Venice have held on , but Chinatown has been hard hit , partly because of the xenophobia around whether @ @ @ @ @ @ @ some ethnic neighborhoods , Ong said , merchants didn ’ t appear to have access to financial resources , or language barriers kept them from making full use of government assistance .
Another factor has to be that service industry jobs have been decimated , and residents of low-income ethnic neighborhoods have been devastated by both COVID-19 and lost spending power .
But largely Latino Boyle Heights has fared pretty well , Ong said , and one theory is that major hospitals in the neighborhood help anchor the micro-economy .
The thing we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we have money to spend , is keep it close to home , which is a way of investing in all the independent store employees , as well as our neighborhood treasures .
At Vroman ’ s , third-grade teacher Lisa Gee was looking for books by poets Carol Ann Duffy and Seamus Heaney .
“ I ’ d rather pick up a physical book here than look it up online , where you can ’ t browse , ” said Gee , who drops into Vroman ’ s a couple of times @ @ @ @ @ @ @ here because this is the kind of place you don ’ t see anymore.
” Mary Paster , a linguistics professor and resident of Upland , drove in to fill a basket with books as her way of helping Vroman ’ s survive .
“ Bookstores are important and a dying breed , and Amazon is just killing off all the independents .
I would hate to lose this one , which has been here 126 years.
” People have long said that with thousands of books , pens and stationery , handbags @ @ @ @ @ @ @ room of the house , you can ’ t go into Vroman ’ s and not find a gift .
“ I like their stuff , ” said Paster , who displayed several items in her basket .
“ I ’ m doing some early Christmas shopping .
”

Joel Sheldon, owner of Vroman’s Bookstore, worries that his Pasadena store may not make it through the year because of the economic devastation caused by the COVID-19 pandemic.
Bruce Abraham, 67, can recall his first trips to Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena.
He was 5 at the time.
“It would be heartbreaking to see this place fall,” said Abraham, a retired paralegal who lives in Sunland and visits the store “several times a week” for periodicals, books and browsing.
Upstairs, in the children’s book section, Alicia Procello and her son Martise told me they’re longtime customers, too. I asked Martise, now 12, how old he was when he first came in.
Advertisement
“Two,” he said.
“You can’t reinvent this place,” said his mother.
And let’s hope nobody has to. But Vroman’s has put out a plea for help to customers, saying the coronavirus may do them in. So has Chevalier’s Books in Larchmont Village, another beloved local institution.
They’ve joined a growing list of local mom-and-pop stores and independent restaurants that are in trouble or have already shut the door for good. Given that we have no idea how long it will take for commerce to return to normal, I’m beginning to worry about what the Greater Los Angeles landscape is going to look like after the pandemic.
The Pacific Dining Car near downtown Los Angeles, with its late-night breakfast and tuxedoed staff, may not be taking on any more passengers, having sold off its fixtures and gone to selling steaks online. Stan’s Donuts in Westwood is finished after 55 years, and Chinatown’s Plum Tree Inn has checked out after more than 40 years.
I was talking to L.A. Councilman Mitch O’Farrell, who told me a lot of the businesses in his district are struggling, and then he mentioned that Musso & Frank Grill in Hollywood was suffering because it wasn’t set up for outdoor dining or takeout service.
My heart flipped. L.A. without Musso & Frank — which just turned 100 — is not L.A. They’d probably put an Outback Steakhouse there and I’d have to move to San Francisco or somewhere.
But not to worry.
“We’re undoubtedly going to open again,” said owner-operator Mark Echeverria. He told me the restaurant owned the building, so there’s no rent payment stacking up. In fact, he said, the restaurant is still covering healthcare premiums for its furloughed staff. But he, too, worries about Los Angeles post-virus.
Advertisement
“I am afraid L.A. is going to lose some of its historical identity,” Echeverria said. “I think as a city we need to rally around our history and support it as much as we can.”
OK, sure, change can be a good thing, and we live in an ever-evolving city. But can’t we keep some of the old, along with the new?
“Friends, the past few months have been the most difficult in our company’s 126-year history and Vroman’s needs your help to stay open,” the Pasadena bookstore’s owners wrote in a tweet to 21,000 followers.
I’m going to admit to two things:
One, a preference for local mom-and-pops over corporate businesses. They are, after all, a big part of the appeal and the spirit of Los Angeles, the land of a million scrappy, independent forays.
And two, a soft spot for Vroman’s.
With all the books, cards, magazines, stationery, housewares and novelties, it’s like a small department store, but you can always find a quiet, carpeted corner, plop down with a book and feel as if you’re in your own living room.
It’s where we took my now-17-year-old daughter when she was learning to read and loved browsing the store’s huge second-floor children’s section, which was better than going to Disneyland. And long before that, my wife and I would meet at Vroman’s and then go to a movie next door at the Laemmle, which, by the way, is a local treasure that was struggling to survive even before the pandemic.
Actually, I have to admit to a third thing, even though it’s unflattering.
Last week, I wanted to buy a book for a friend, and without a second thought, I went into my Amazon account to buy it. Just after that I got an email from Vroman’s owner, asking if I wanted to drop by and talk about his struggle to survive.
What a fool and a hypocrite I’d been. With several months of limited travel and brick-and-mortar shopping excursions during the pandemic, I’d become even more addicted to the convenience of e-commerce. When I realized I could have ordered the same book from Vroman’s, or picked it up in person, I tried to cancel my Amazon order, but it was too late.
Joel Sheldon, the majority owner, did not kick me out of his store as penance for my sin. And I tried to redeem myself by buying the same book for another friend. But he said that for a store that had survived wars, recessions, the advent of big-box chain bookstores, e-books and even Amazon — the last two years were its most profitable ever — Vroman’s was reeling.
“Sometimes you get caught up in what I call sweeps of history, and it doesn’t make any difference how smart you are or how strong or well-financed,” Sheldon said. “You can be swept away by a tidal wave. We’re in a pandemic and it’s a tsunami.”
There’s a cruel irony in what’s happening to independent bookstores, Sheldon said. With more downtime, people are doing a lot of reading, but they’re not as inclined to leave the house, so they’re shopping on Amazon even though Vroman’s is a good local option for buying books online.
It’s a case of the rich getting richer, while neighborhood anchors — the kinds of places that are invested in their communities, and give them a sense of history, place and identity in a land of homogenous behemoths — slip further into peril.
UCLA professor Paul Ong told me he’s still analyzing research on the impact of the coronavirus on independently owned businesses in several Los Angeles neighborhoods, but some preliminary trends are already clear.
“On average, businesses in ethnic neighborhoods … are not faring as well,” said Ong. “We suspect that a number of these have gone under, and we’re talking to some community folks close to the ground who are saying that many of these businesses will not be back.”
Ong said Sherman Oaks, Larchmont Village and Venice have held on, but Chinatown has been hard hit, partly because of the xenophobia around whether the virus originated in China. In some ethnic neighborhoods, Ong said, merchants didn’t appear to have access to financial resources, or language barriers kept them from making full use of government assistance.
Another factor has to be that service industry jobs have been decimated, and residents of low-income ethnic neighborhoods have been devastated by both COVID-19 and lost spending power. But largely Latino Boyle Heights has fared pretty well, Ong said, and one theory is that major hospitals in the neighborhood help anchor the micro-economy.
The thing we can all do, if and when we have money to spend, is keep it close to home, which is a way of investing in all the independent store employees, as well as our neighborhood treasures.
At Vroman’s, third-grade teacher Lisa Gee was looking for books by poets Carol Ann Duffy and Seamus Heaney.
“I’d rather pick up a physical book here than look it up online, where you can’t browse,” said Gee, who drops into Vroman’s a couple of times a month. “I like coming here because this is the kind of place you don’t see anymore.”
Mary Paster, a linguistics professor and resident of Upland, drove in to fill a basket with books as her way of helping Vroman’s survive.
“Bookstores are important and a dying breed, and Amazon is just killing off all the independents. I would hate to lose this one, which has been here 126 years.”
People have long said that with thousands of books, pens and stationery, handbags, greeting cards and knickknacks for every room of the house, you can’t go into Vroman’s and not find a gift.
“I like their stuff,” said Paster, who displayed several items in her basket. “I’m doing some early Christmas shopping.”
steve.lopez@latimes.com