Nowadays it's a challenge to imagine the irrational exuberance that swept places like Los Angeles' Eagle Rock neighborhood several years ago. Emblematic of all the overlooked urban neighborhoods poised for transformation that this blog has long followed, Eagle Rock seemed to have, in plain view, all the raw ingredients for a seismic shift.
The suggestive tone of this 2007 NYTimes article demonstrates the euphoria of a moment that has definitely passed:
But as real estate prices have risen over the last five years, home
buyers have been migrating east to discover a group of neighborhoods
known collectively as Northeast Los Angeles, or NELA. They are enticed
by Victorian homes dating back to the 1890s, Craftsman and Mission
Revival homes from the turn of the 20th century and newly desirable
midcentury homes, designed with an orientation toward the outdoors....
“The sunsets are absolutely spectacular,” said David Spancer, who with his wife, Apryl Lundsten, fell in love with a midcentury modern home that sits high in the hills of Eagle Rock. Their 2,100-square-foot house with three bedrooms and two and a half baths cost $495,000 in 2003. Built in 1966, the house still has much of its original detailing, as well as a built-in bar and stools, a barbecue and rotisserie, and a large old-fashioned Chambers refrigerator.
But the real treat is a 1,500-square-foot west-facing balcony that runs the length of the house, offering views from the Pacific Ocean to the Hollywood Hills on a clear day. “And most of my work is at Universal Studios, which is only a 20-minute drive,” Mr. Spancer said.
Fast forward to the anguish and lethargic pace of the present day. The NYTimes takes another look at Eagle Rock (above):
When Emily Cook, a screenwriter, bought a house four years ago in Eagle Rock, a neighborhood on the Northeast side of Los Angeles, she fantasized what the area might look like in a year or two, with cafes and boutiques replacing tattered old businesses. “It was like fantasy football,” said Ms. Cook, 38, who also sings in a band named Fonda.
A sad flower shop on the corner, she thought, could become a miniature Whole Foods. An upholstery store could be a gastropub where she and friends would grab a beer, and a neglected 1940s diner could become a retro spot for a quick meal.
But Ms. Cook has stopped fantasizing about what might be, and started worrying about what might shut down. The flower store has closed; no gourmet market is moving in. Lucy Finch, a vintage boutique, folded last month. That Yarn Store, a hangout for crochet-heads, didn’t survive a bad winter.
It sounds totally specious, but it's actually an interesting question: what happens to the Eagle Rocks (ie., the Northern Liberties, the Bucktowns, the Hoxtons) when the economics that supported them shift, again? I'll admit that I'm not old enough to remember any examples of "de-gentrification," or even if it was identified as such. In any event: what's next when hip is no longer economically viable?
It is easy to sniff at such urban affectations. But the downturn endangers more than precious shops; residents worry that as stores close, the fabric of a bohemian utopia — with its Jane Jacobs mix of commerce and public spiritedness — will also unravel.
The new residents brought prosperity and, the locals say, a little arrogance as well. “They sounded the trumpets and announced a vision of something like Silver Lake or Los Feliz,” said Bob de Velasco, who runs Commercial Printing Network, a copy shop. “But it’s not going to happen. Eagle Rock wasn’t meant to have that. Eagle Rock is an old-fashioned, atmospheric town.”
Indeed, in this downturn, Mr. de Velasco’s printing shop doesn’t seem to be hurting, nor is Tritch Hardware. The shops at risk are the ones playing the Decemberists in a continuous loop.
Behind the issue of what constitutes the right retail mix, though, there's a larger question about the body of ideas, that underpinned trends, that remade places like Eagle Rock. On the one hand, the construction of lifestyle, as per expensive, aspirational boutique shopping and home renovations, is awfully precious, and its cache lies somewhat in how inconvenient it can be. On the other hand, there is wisdom in an economic and planning focus on a local scale, and making sustainability--whatever it ultimately means--the goal.
So is this just a "natural" correction? Is a packaged experience of place--neighborhood as product--actually done for?
“The problem is this,” said D. J. Waldie, a historian of Southern California, “if we truly believed that patronizing these places enlivened our neighborhoods, why aren’t we there — eating the omelets or shopping at the boutique?”
“Those places are important — they dissolve some of the cruel anonymity of everyday life,” he said. “They’re part of the equation of making the local real to us. But they’re not the whole equation. They’re not enough.”
Mr. Waldie added: “I’ve got enough handmade soap. I don’t need anymore.”
Ain't that the truth.
Comments