1992 LA RIOTS

Shortly after the trial that acquitted (in spite of the video viewed worldwide) the four LAPD cops who gave Rodney King his beat down, there was a big rally at the First A.M.E. Church. My friends, Lucille, Karyn and I attempted to attend the rally. I don't know who came up with this bright idea. I know it wasn't me, but I agreed to go along.

When we arrived at the church on a Wednesday, there were thousands of people with the same bright idea. So many that we couldn't get inside the church. We listened with the thousand on the parking lot, to the rally speeches blasted from speakers. We were near some unhappy men who shouted throughout the rally, so I didn't hear much.

When the rally ended we were advised to take a circuitous route back to our car because the rioting and looting had begun. We were right at the nexus of the newly forming riot.

Suddenly there were cop cars everywhere. We realized the cops weren't there to protect us, they were trapped and trying to escape, they were afraid. We were close enough to them in the snarled traffic to see the fear on their faces. Not good to see scared cops.

The streets were packed with pedestrians and cars headed in every direction. By the time we edged our way to the first intersection, people were setting fire to the signs at the gas station and destroying bus stop shelters. We crept along into the next block, picking our way through the boulevard stopping for a foursome of guys who struggled past us carrying a stove a couple inches from the ground. The looting had seriously begun now. We passed people ripping the security bars off small store fronts. Breaking glass and snatching merchandise from the exposed displays. We saw people walking off with floor lamps, and TVs. It was silent in our little car. We were just hoping to make it home safely. Then the fires began.

When I got home I prayed. It was surreal, dreamlike. I watched TV, horrified, as thousands of fires burned all over the city.  My neighborhood was burning to the ground. What hurt me most at the time was that Aquarious Bookstore burned down. It was were I bought most of my books. It burned because it was in a Korean mini mall.

The whole city was under siege with a dusk to dawn curfew. There were heavily armed National Guards everywhere. Huge military trucks rumbled through the streets. I remember being in my car behind one that had stopped as the soldiers jumped off with their automatic rifles and filed across the street to the grocery store parking lot. I noticed more armed soldiers on the roof of that Vons, one of the few grocers open.

Businesses spray painted "Black Owned" on their store fronts. Sometimes that didn't save them from being burned. I don't know if it was true, but I heard that a group of arsonists was paid to start the fires around the city.  I noticed the fires only burned in the black neighborhoods. They stopped right at the boundary before the high end Wilshire district.

On day two of the riots I saw on TV my gentle Korean dentist patrolling  the roof of his offices with an AK- 47, keeping the peace. I didn't know he had it in him. Later that same day my neighbors and I gathered in front of our apartment building atop a hill and watched as fires burned in every direction we looked. The sky was scorched black and flames licked at the sky. Our neighbor to the rear hosed down his roof.

Cars crammed with loot and full of looters sped up and down our narrow street. They would unload and go back for more. Firefighters were attacked as they attempted to control the conflagration. In time they wouldn't go to a fire without police escorts. Most of the fires simply burnt themselves out. Hundreds of businesses in the black community burned to the ground. Riding around my neighborhood made me want to cry. Days later still smoldering ruins spread for miles.

On Saturday I went to help with the clean-up effort. I couldn't stand to stay home and do nothing. It made me feel better especially after my up close and personal encounter with the National Guard. I had attempted to take my walk at L.A. High School but the rifle welding guard at the gate shook his head "NO" when I stopped before the gate. I thought that would be a safe place. I just wanted to get back to my normal life.

I was finally able to take my walk at West Los Angeles College. It was locked and instead of walking on the track I walked around the perimeter of the campus. This is when I encountered frightened white people. Over time I tired of trying to assuage their fear with a bright smile.

The next week I helped clean-up at my church. The store owned by the church was burned down. Everything that burned, burned to the ground. No churches burned. I heard that many gun shops were looted and burned. I helped bag food for people who lost their homes and jobs due to the riots. It felt good to be a part of the process to bring back normalcy.

I can't believe that was nearly 21 years ago. Nearly a lifetime. The next year I left L.A. for St. Louis. Lots of people left town at time because of the riots. That's not why I left, but that's another story.