Customer Reviews

Chavez Ravine: 1949: A Los Angeles Story

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My father, Albert Elias (born - Los Angeles General Hospital in 1931), always told us stories of his childhood. It seemed unbelievable, to live so close to downtown Los Angeles, and yet he remembers running through the hills, trees, and swimming in the L.A. river! Every chance he had as we would drive through that area he would point out landmarks of his youth. We could only imagine, because all we could see was the Dodger Stadium, the parking lots, the freeways, and as for the "river"... to us it was a cemented canal. This book made me cry to see how truly beautiful this area once was, the harsh reality of the poverty, yet the incredible strength of the families that had the fortunate opportunity to experience living in the Chavez Ravine. How wonderful that Don Normark found this wonderland, and photographed it so well as a young man, and now like a miracle, fifty years later Don presents us with a museum quality photography books that tells a powerful story. We the readers can almost hear the "echos" of these neighborhoods in the L.A. hills through the incredible, hauntingly beautiful photographs, and relive the memories from those who once use to live there. This book made me feel extremely proud of my heritage.

Nestled in the hills between downtown Los Angeles and Pasadena is Chávez Ravine, site of Dodger Stadium and its acres of parking lots. Few baseball fans here could tell you that long before the Dodgers left Brooklyn, Chávez Ravine was the home of three communities of Mexican-American laborers and their families.

Don Normark, a young photographer in 1948, was climbing in the hills looking for postcard-shot views of LA when he discovered La Loma, Palo Verde, and Bishop. Each neighborhood was a rambling cluster of buildings, dirt streets, and footpaths. The wooded slopes of Elysian Park overlooked the ravine, and beyond were the peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains. He felt he had found another world -- a kind of Shangri-La. For many months, he returned to take pictures of what he saw and of the people he met there. He didn't know that he was recording on film the daily life of a place and its people that was about to disappear.

The pictures, of course, are black and white, a rich range of gray tones and contrasts under the cloudless southern California sky. In a casual street scene, two men stand talking on the hard dirt, and a third, his back to them, leans across a low concrete wall. All is in sharp focus from the dusty tire track in the foreground to the pointed tower of City Hall nudging up over a darkly wooded ridge in the distance. The mid-afternoon light reflects brightly off one man's tee shirt and from the front of a small white house farther on. Meanwhile, the shadows cast by eaves, palm fronds, parked cars, and the men themselves are deeply dark.

There are many pictures of people, of all ages. Some look into the camera. Most are busy working, walking, talking, playing. A young girl wears her confirmation dress. A boy watches his father repair a car. Two men spar under branches thick with bougainvillea blossoms. An iceman stands in an open gateway, tongs slung over one shoulder. A young woman arranges flowers on an altar. A workman returns home along a winding footpath at the end of the day (see book jacket above).

Fifty years later, Normark gathered together his pictures and began looking for the people who had once lived in Chávez Ravine. This book is an album of those pictures, with commentary by the people he found, in their own words. Normark writes simply and clearly about himself and his experiences. Like his photographs, his writing style is sharply focused. In the opening pages of the book, he describes the forced relocation of the people of Chávez Ravine during the Fifties, and the various public and private interests contending for control of its development. Normark's book is both handsome and beautifully written, a fine example of text and image illuminating each other.

It makes me so proud to see my Dad's old Mexican-American community captured in a book of photos. It's great to see my Aunt Sally Anchando quoted in the book. I recently saw my Aunts and Uncles who lived in Chavez Ravine (unfortunately, it was after my Mom's funeral). They passed around the book and talked about old times. I will pass this book on to my children, neices, and nephews so that they don't forget that their forefathers sacraficed a lot to create a better life for themselves and those who followed.

This book is a collection of photos taken by a professional photographer in his youth. Normark took the photos as a twenty year old photography student in 1949, full of passion--and it shows. Fifty years later, he assembled the photos and found amd interviewed some of the original subjects. The result is a photo essay that captures a place that no longer exists with sensitivity and insight to a culture that was displaced by the construction of Dodger Stadium. Anecdotal stories abound: the one about hot wiring a stolen jukebox into the only streetlight for Saturday night dances is only one of the fascinating stories about the area and its people. Good stuff!

This book is full of classic, socially-conscious photography that bears a spiritual kinship with Dorothea Lange's Depression Era photos of Dustbowl Families. The images are doubly rich: as Old School black and white images shot on a reasonable speed film, with a broad and caress-ably subtle range of grays, and also as a record of a time and place that was stolen, and will simply never be again.

For those who don't know the story, in a nutshell: The residents of Chavez Ravine, who were almost entirely Latino, were offered the promise that their community would be replaced by public housing as part of a renewal project of sorts. (Some had called their neighborhood blighted.) But as the land acquisition proceeded, and as various official pledges were reneged and political cards played (including exploitation of the then current fear of creeping Socialism/Communism-- after all, I ask you, what could be more unAmerican than affordable replacement housing?), the project proved to be a lie. The final hold-outs at Chavez Ravine were bodily removed by deputies as the last remnants of the neighborhood were cleared to make way for a sports field and parking lot. (!)

This volume is great because these photos, which speak so eloquently of one specific place and time, also speak clearly of universal things. Children play; young couples tie the knot as family celebrates; honest and good people work to protect what is theirs, to better their lot, and just to get by. -- It is about nothing less than the struggle and joy of life itself.

If there is any uplift to the wistful story this book tells in beautiful images and words, it is in that the displaced people survived, persevered, and that their old home, and what happened there, is remembered today.

Sometimes, you have to search for the bright spot. A thought-provoking read. Recommended.

Recapture your past! On Christmas Morning Six of us and our 92 year old Mother, Anita Salas, recaptured our youth and enjoyed the Photos of old friends in old times. La Loma, Palo Verde and Bishop are communities long forgotten in Los Angeles. In the memories of people who were born and raised there the Author recorded historical precious moments, which can be relived. It was the best Christmas Present I have ever given my brothers and sisters. A valuable record for any historian about this small enclave.

While reading this book I was transported back to my old neighborhood, Montebello, California. It was a great journey and really brought back a lot of childhood memories. The author really captured the Mexican spirit and heart of the hispanic community. Anyone who grew up in the early part of the century, regardless of which town you lived in , should read the book.

well, I grew up in Chavez Ravine for the 1st 13 yrs of my life ('85-'98)My mom was raised there as well as her parents & siblings. I lived on Amador for most of my life & I never knew the history behind where I lived. The pictures in this book really capture the lifestyles of the ppl living here. I used to hike in the hills & find foundations to houses... Or even laid-down piping.. & I really never knew what had happened. You can still find steel pots & pans in the hills as well as a long cement road that leads to nothing, but just makes a u-turn. The road now blocked off & starting near San Coronado Catholic church was a road often walked by myself as well as my mischievous friends. ''no trespassing?'' lets go in there! Lol. Feeling like a couple of kids from the movie ''Stand by me'', we were always set out on the wknds or summer days for a new adventure. Going through about 3 go-carts a summer or 2 club-houses in the hills; ending friendships & renewing them in an hr or two; going to Solano Elementary & hopping the fence to play Baseball or basketball... This was my neighborhood... It was all I knew.
Now my moms stories, probably compares nothing to mine because she grew up closer to the time ppl forcefully got evicted from their homes. I can recognize a few areas from the pictures in the book, & my mom even says she knows about a boxer they talk about in this book... Who became the neighborhood drunk I believe.. (not sure) But yea, any1 who grew up in Chavez Ravine..from the forced evac to now should really get this book. Alot of history in this book, & I'm glad to say I lived here for the time I did. Best summers a kid can have =)

This is my favorite book of photography alongside the abandonded Danvers State Hospital.
If they would have settled in a rural rustbelt location or somewhere in the Appalacias the community would most likely have survived to this date.

This is a brilliant and beautiful book about an important era in the history of Los Angeles. The photographs are spectacular and the accompanying narratives are perfect. Dodger Stadium was built on the backs of three communities of Mexican-Americans. L.A. government cared nothing about these communities. It is good that they are remembered so vividly. One hopes that such will awaken city officials to the damage they can do to with their abstract and remote notions about the people they are supposed to serve.