Homeland Insecurity
By Glenn
Taranto
My home is gone. Everyone has
been telling me to “move on,” “let it go” and the ever
popular, “This’ll be the best thing that ever happened to
you.” I suppose that’s true. There’s nothing I can do about
it now. 1101-1107 Venice Boulevard has vanished as if it were never
there.
Interestingly, all the tenants I have been
in touch with, drove past the old place a time or two to watch it go down. It
was cathartic for me. I guess for them too. As if we had to see it to believe
it. I know I needed to see it happen. I was there everyday taking pictures and
videotaping it. Many people thought I was nuts. Maybe I am. None of them have
ever been tossed out of their place. I wanted to make sure it was documented. A
lot of lives were lived there. Children grew up there. People died there.
Gilly Rojany, the man responsible for
the carnage, saw me there one day and said it was “time to move
ahead.” “When the last piece comes down,” I said. Well
it’s down, has been for a week now, and I guess I lied because it’s
awfully hard to let go of being tossed out of your home, neighborhood and
community. The urge to “go home” is still present in me. I no longer
live in Venice. I couldn’t afford to. Maybe I could have if I wanted to
move to a smaller place for more
money.
I’ll cop to the fact that
Rojany gave me a larger incentive to move than the $3,300 required by law. He
had to, I couldn’t have moved without it. But that money won’t last
forever and the new place is not rent stabilized.
My rent went up 50% for the same size
apartment. Try finding someone who’ll rent to you when you’re a
performer without a verifiable income and no savings. Fleck Mgmt.
wouldn’t. Sidewalk Rentals wouldn’t. They didn’t want to hear
it. Even though I had great people vouching for me and I lived in the building
for 14 years.
Our tenant group had
retained Eviction Defense Network to help. Our attorney was extremely difficult
to get on the phone or return an email. We all came away bitter from that
experience. None of us would recommend them. Money down the drain. I was
starting to become greatly concerned about having to live in my car. What the
hell, though, didn’t do two-time Oscar winner Hilary Swank any harm. Rent
a PO Box, get a cell phone, shower at the beach. Who’d
notice?
Fortunately I found a great
couple that would rent to me just as I
am.
I’m trying to get used to the
new place. I won’t kid you, some things about the actual apartment itself
are better than the old place. But that’s the physical. Some things
can’t be replaced. That’s the part I don’t think Rojany
understands when he says, “People just don’t want to move.”
DUH! And why do you think that is? That nothing but the physical will be lost
by forcing us to move?
I miss my
neighbors. I miss being able to sit outside in the courtyard with them, talk
about what’s going on in the world. Laughing. There was always laughter.
My new neighbors are mostly old. They’re extremely nice but I don’t
want to talk about stents, glaucoma and the dangers of falling. Not yet anyway.
I still have time before that. It’s a quiet place after 9 p.m. I guess
that’s OK. Venice and Superior has to be the noisiest corner in all of LA.
I’m sure those people paying two grand or better for those new apartments
Mr. King and the rest of LUPC (Land Use & Planning Committee) OK’d,
will be able to stand it just like I
did.
I miss a very simple thing,
wouldn’t mean much to anyone but me but I miss my walk around the block.
Down Superior, around Victoria, down Penmar and up Venice to home. There was a
peacefulness to it. Ten minutes out of my day that made all the difference in
the world to my psyche. I did a lot of thinking around that corner. Superior is
a different kind of street. People actually nod and say hello. I liked living on
that block.
I also miss being able to
walk to Queen’s Market for a coke or to Abbot Kinney for pizza and even to
the beach. There isn’t much to walk to here.
I miss Venice. It’ll take a
while for the new place to be home. I know change is supposed to be good. One
thing that won’t change, the tiny voice in the back of my head that says:
Don’t get comfortable, it could happen again.
Posted: Tue - May 1, 2007 at 06:34 AM