In February, Freddy got laid off from his law firm after 18 years. With age 40 in the rear-view mirror, and nothing to lose, he has decided to indulge a long-held desire to act. This morning he got a call back for a Claritin commercial. He didn’t hesitate to offer a dramatic reading in the driveway, much to the amusement of Rosa.
‘Do you suffer from allergies….?’
Plying the street trade on a sunny afternoon. Immediately outside this frame is a middle-class neighborhood of nice ranch houses, with tidy yards. Four years ago, these women were not here. Section 8 housing vouchers, SSI, EBT cards…plus vacant apartments = ghetto, in miniature, with all its trappings. The people who own the apartment buildings and cheap motels along Sepulveda extract a nice profit in government remittances, but don’t live in the neighborhood they are despoiling. The police, who are very well remunerated and don’t live in the neighborhood, either, do not push the women off the corners during the daytime hours. The Chief of Police, Charlie Beck, lives in Simi Valley, and has a personal driver whisk him to town each day. For how long, do you think, would a hooker stroll be tolerated on the streets of Simi Valley? How about Brentwood? Sherman Oaks?
Along Raymer Street, the fossilized remnants of a once prodigious ivy patch….now entombed in chain link. One wonders why this was cut. No one inside the fence is trying to see out. No one passing by on the street has any reason to look in. The fresh shoots of new ivy climbing out of a weephole in the asphalt suggest it was unlikely anyone was watering this to begin with. (Ivy is surprisingly hardy and resilient in the arid LA heat) What practical concern or fit of pique put a chainsaw to the roots of this mastodon, this brontosaurus of the scrapyard?