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The L.A. Riots 25 Years Later: A Return to the Epicenter The L.A. Riots 25 Years Later: A Return to the Epicenter
(35 minutes later)
LOS ANGELES — After an all-white jury acquitted four white police officers in the beating of Rodney King, it was only minutes before Henry Keith Watson joined hundreds of others here at the corner of Florence and Normandie in South Los Angeles. They were filled with fury and disbelief, and eager to show it to the rest of the world.LOS ANGELES — After an all-white jury acquitted four white police officers in the beating of Rodney King, it was only minutes before Henry Keith Watson joined hundreds of others here at the corner of Florence and Normandie in South Los Angeles. They were filled with fury and disbelief, and eager to show it to the rest of the world.
Mr. Watson was one of the four men convicted in the beating of Reginald Denny, a white truck driver who tried to pass through the intersection before he was pulled from his vehicle. With news helicopters hovering above, the intersection became the flash point in the 1992 riots that rocked this city. Mr. Watson, who held Mr. Denny’s neck down with his foot, was later convicted of assault for his role in the beating. He later apologized to Mr. Denny on a nationally televised talk show.Mr. Watson was one of the four men convicted in the beating of Reginald Denny, a white truck driver who tried to pass through the intersection before he was pulled from his vehicle. With news helicopters hovering above, the intersection became the flash point in the 1992 riots that rocked this city. Mr. Watson, who held Mr. Denny’s neck down with his foot, was later convicted of assault for his role in the beating. He later apologized to Mr. Denny on a nationally televised talk show.
Now, 25 years later, Mr. Watson is not in the mood to say sorry — he called himself “an angry black man” one afternoon this week as he sat on the porch of his home. Earlier this year, he hired an artist to paint a mural commemorating the events of 1992 on a brick wall alongside his house. As he has done each anniversary, he is selling Florence and Normandie T-shirts and throwing a block party on Saturday.Now, 25 years later, Mr. Watson is not in the mood to say sorry — he called himself “an angry black man” one afternoon this week as he sat on the porch of his home. Earlier this year, he hired an artist to paint a mural commemorating the events of 1992 on a brick wall alongside his house. As he has done each anniversary, he is selling Florence and Normandie T-shirts and throwing a block party on Saturday.
“Nothing has changed, nothing,” Mr. Watson said. “We gave L.A. a black eye. Everyone in the world knows about Florence and Normandie. You think any official wants to acknowledge that? We still have Flint, Ferguson, all those places, nothing has changed. The oppression is deep rooted and it doesn’t go away. History has a way of repeating itself.”“Nothing has changed, nothing,” Mr. Watson said. “We gave L.A. a black eye. Everyone in the world knows about Florence and Normandie. You think any official wants to acknowledge that? We still have Flint, Ferguson, all those places, nothing has changed. The oppression is deep rooted and it doesn’t go away. History has a way of repeating itself.”
In the two and a half decades since the riots left more than 50 people dead, thousands injured and more than $1 billion in damage, much has changed in Los Angeles and in the neighborhood where the violence first exploded. (It was called South Central then, but city officials later rechristened it South Los Angeles in an attempt to repair its image.) The Los Angeles Police Department is widely regarded as a reformed force, after many community demands for more oversight were made and a consent decree was reached with the federal Department of Justice. Crime has gone down throughout the city and race relations have dramatically improved. Still, in the two and a half decades since the riots left more than 50 people dead, thousands injured and more than $1 billion in damage, much has changed in Los Angeles and in the neighborhood where the violence first exploded. (It was called South Central then, but city officials later rechristened it South Los Angeles in an attempt to repair its image.) The Los Angeles Police Department is widely regarded as a reformed force, after many community demands for more oversight were made and a consent decree was reached with the federal Department of Justice. Crime has gone down throughout the city and race relations have significantly improved.
And yet most residents think the kind of unrest that tore the city apart is quite likely to happen again in the next five years, according to a poll released this week by the Center for the Study of Los Angeles at Loyola Marymount University. Researchers have conducted the poll every five years since 1992, and until this year, the percentage of respondents who said they believed another riot was likely went down in every survey. Now, 58 percent say it is more likely.And yet most residents think the kind of unrest that tore the city apart is quite likely to happen again in the next five years, according to a poll released this week by the Center for the Study of Los Angeles at Loyola Marymount University. Researchers have conducted the poll every five years since 1992, and until this year, the percentage of respondents who said they believed another riot was likely went down in every survey. Now, 58 percent say it is more likely.
“We’re just one more little slap in the face away from another one,” said Nathan Smith, 53, bringing his index finger a thimble’s-breadth away from his thumb. A couple of men within earshot at M’Dears, a diner just north of Florence and Normandie, nodded their heads in agreement.“We’re just one more little slap in the face away from another one,” said Nathan Smith, 53, bringing his index finger a thimble’s-breadth away from his thumb. A couple of men within earshot at M’Dears, a diner just north of Florence and Normandie, nodded their heads in agreement.
Like anyone in the neighborhood old enough to remember Mr. Smith recalls precisely what he did in the hours after the King verdict. He was on parole after serving a sentence for drug possession, and feared that going out to the street would end with him back in jail. He called Mr. Watson, a longtime friend and neighbor, but got no answer. Like anyone in the neighborhood old enough to remember, Mr. Smith recalls precisely what he did in the hours after the King verdict. He was on parole after serving a sentence for drug possession, and feared that going out to the street would end with him back in jail. He called Mr. Watson, a longtime friend and neighbor, but got no answer.
“We all felt like, ‘We’ve been telling you and telling you we’re angry and you’re not listening, so now we’re going to show you,’” he said. “They’re not evil people, but they are proud people and they can only take abuse for so long.”“We all felt like, ‘We’ve been telling you and telling you we’re angry and you’re not listening, so now we’re going to show you,’” he said. “They’re not evil people, but they are proud people and they can only take abuse for so long.”
Much is the same at the intersection that quickly became the flash point in the riots. There’s still a gas station, still a hot-dog stand and still a liquor store with a bulletproof screen between customers and the cashier. (The store is now constantly watched by a security guard who keeps pepper spray strapped to his belt.) An auto supply store moved in on one corner and a medical marijuana shop opened a few doors down.Much is the same at the intersection that quickly became the flash point in the riots. There’s still a gas station, still a hot-dog stand and still a liquor store with a bulletproof screen between customers and the cashier. (The store is now constantly watched by a security guard who keeps pepper spray strapped to his belt.) An auto supply store moved in on one corner and a medical marijuana shop opened a few doors down.
It is hardly the kind of transformation that organizers at Community Coalition, a neighborhood advocacy group, dreamed of. After the uprising, as many activists in the area refer to 1992, the group successfully pushed for fewer liquor stores in the neighborhood. There are still stubborn concerns over subpar grocery stores. Last year residents complained of rancid meat at the neighborhood’s only supermarket. It is hardly the kind of transformation that organizers at Community Coalition, a neighborhood advocacy group, dreamed of. After the uprising, as many activists in the area refer to 1992, the group successfully pushed to have fewer liquor stores in the neighborhood. There are still stubborn concerns over subpar grocery stores. Last year residents complained of rancid meat at the neighborhood’s only supermarket.
“Any progress we’ve made here is because of people coming together and pushing and making their voices heard,” said Karren Lane, vice president for policy at Community Coalition. Ms. Lane was just shy of her 13th birthday during the unrest (her party had to be canceled) and moved back after graduate school. “For many of us, it was the start of a lifetime of activism,” she said.“Any progress we’ve made here is because of people coming together and pushing and making their voices heard,” said Karren Lane, vice president for policy at Community Coalition. Ms. Lane was just shy of her 13th birthday during the unrest (her party had to be canceled) and moved back after graduate school. “For many of us, it was the start of a lifetime of activism,” she said.
Latinos now make up the majority of what was once an overwhelmingly black neighborhood. Many Mexican and Central American immigrants have opened restaurants, bakeries and beauty salons. Gang violence has subsided and residents often say they are relieved there are few drive-by shootings these days. Latinos now make up the majority of what was once an overwhelmingly black neighborhood. Many Mexican and Central American immigrants have opened restaurants, bakeries and beauty salons. Gang violence has subsided, and residents often say they are relieved there are few drive-by shootings these days.
The most persistent tension remains with the police.The most persistent tension remains with the police.
Many residents say police tactics are better than they were in 1992, when tanks routinely knocked down homes the police said housed drugs and gang members, in what was called Operation Hammer. The department now has civilian oversight and procedures are in place to address accusations of brutality by officers. Many residents say police tactics are better than they were in 1992, when tanks routinely knocked down homes that the police said housed drugs and gang members, in what was called Operation Hammer. The department now has civilian oversight and procedures are in place to address accusations of brutality by officers.
But the department itself reported last year that 60 percent of African-Americans do not believe people of all races are treated fairly. And while many residents say the use of excessive force is less routine, they also believe officers are still too quick to pull their guns. But the department itself reported last year that 60 percent of African-Americans did not believe people of all races were treated fairly. And while many residents say the use of excessive force is less routine, they also believe officers are still too quick to pull their guns.
Jerome Calhoun has been an L.A.P.D. officer in South Los Angeles for more than three decades. As a young patrolman, he was in disbelief when he heard the commands on the radio that night to pull out of the area as the fires burned. He was one of the few African-Americans in his division then, just as he is now, he said. Blacks make up 12 percent of the department, roughly the same as the overall population of the city, but they account for a far larger percentage of people arrested.Jerome Calhoun has been an L.A.P.D. officer in South Los Angeles for more than three decades. As a young patrolman, he was in disbelief when he heard the commands on the radio that night to pull out of the area as the fires burned. He was one of the few African-Americans in his division then, just as he is now, he said. Blacks make up 12 percent of the department, roughly the same as the overall population of the city, but they account for a far larger percentage of people arrested.
“We have a long way to go, people just don’t trust us, we don’t reflect the community,” said Sergeant Calhoun, who is vice president of the association for African-American police officers. As he drank coffee with a friend at M’Dears, both men said they were thankful they did not have sons.“We have a long way to go, people just don’t trust us, we don’t reflect the community,” said Sergeant Calhoun, who is vice president of the association for African-American police officers. As he drank coffee with a friend at M’Dears, both men said they were thankful they did not have sons.
Like them, Mr. Watson has only daughters; they are now adults. Mr. Watson, a former Marine, is viewed as a leader in his community and the only advice he offers young men is “keep your head down.” Like them, Mr. Watson has only daughters; they are now adults. Mr. Watson, a former Marine, is viewed as a leader in his community, and the advice he offers young men is “keep your head down.”
Dozens of community groups have organized a march for Saturday, but Mr. Watson will not join them. He’ll be serving up ribs and brisket to his neighbors on his block instead, just as he did last year.Dozens of community groups have organized a march for Saturday, but Mr. Watson will not join them. He’ll be serving up ribs and brisket to his neighbors on his block instead, just as he did last year.