These three people are my property managers, who we pay rent to every month. September 1st was the last time we gave them our rent because our building that we currently live in was sold. The 4-plex in Leimert Park that I call home has been in my family for over 50 years. It was where my grandmother lived when she moved to LA from St. Louis in the 1960s. It was her introduction to Los Angeles, in the heart of Leimert Park. My dad, who was still living in St. Louis and attending High School when his mother moved out here, would come to this same building when he would visit his mom (my grandmother) during summer vacations from High School and College. My aunt would, too. It was owned by “Aunt Mack”, who also lived in the building, and who my grandmother became lifelong friends with. I’m not sure when Aunt Mack purchased the place, and one can only guess how much it cost when she purchased it. My uncle was born here, and he was brought to this building upon leaving the hospital. Aunt Mack helped raise him. While my grandmother moved to Ladera Heights, Aunt Mack stayed in the 4-plex in Leimert, where she lived the rest of her life. In her last years, my uncle was her caretaker until she transitioned in the early-2000s. Aunt Mack, who didn’t have any children, willed the 4-plex to my uncle, and he’s been the owner ever since.
In addition to my uncle, the owner, there’s the maintenance man, who’s name is Cermak. He still fixes the place when needed, and has done so for decades. Everyone in my family knows him. He might take a few days to get back to you, but he could get the job done. Mike was the on-sight manager, who would help clean the outside, bring the trash cans in, etc. He talked a lot, almost too much, but he would always ask about my grandmother, because he used to be her caretaker. He lives in The Jungles, and while he has his quirks, he is loyal to my uncle and my family.
Baldwin Crest Reality (pictured above) is a local property management group who was right around the corner. They are nice, kind people lead by Mr. Cater. Their office was a throw back to the 1970s, and not in a good way. Their office hours were scattered, let’s just say you gotta “catch them at the right time” which was always a bit frustrating, but I guess you consider it to be a stroke of personal charm. If there was an issue after hours, you had to call a pager number, which I haven’t had to do since the late 90s. I never thought I would ever have to page anyone again, but here I was in 2020, paging Mr. Cater about our garbage disposal. I almost forgot how to even do it. And when you paid them, it was cash or check. Cash App? Venmo? Don’t even think about it. I’m not sure they even have a website. The whole ordeal, month after month was inconvenience, but I also enjoyed it. I enjoyed being greeted by Mrs. Johnson, and how we would chit chat about her family, while I would tell her about what’s going on in the neighborhood. It was what you would want out of a local business. It made Leimert feel like a small town, a Black-owned small town that it sort of is. In my mind, Baldwin Crest Reality went hand in hand with living in Leimert Park.
When my uncle called me to tell me that he was “thinking” of selling the building, and I put that in quotes because it was pretty much already on the market, I went through a bevy of emotions. First shock, and then sadness over the loss of this extremely sentimental building, then fear and anxiety over having to move, find a new place, or being displaced all together (To be honest, when you live in San Francisco for as long as I did, that feeling never fully leaves you. It’s muted when you have a semblance of stability, but it’s never gone). After my uncle reassured me that the sale would not affect our living situation, and for the reason why he was selling, there was an understanding. He want’s to put his daughters through college. We can have a separate discussion about the price of higher education, but this was the plan all along. Not only was it the plan, it’s what Aunt Mack would’ve wanted. Not figuratively, but literally. She literally told him to use the 4-plex to put your kids through college, and my uncle, being the man of honor that he is, is doing just that.
This situation has really made me think about gentrification on a personal scope, as well as a larger one. When hearing peers talk about gentrification, there is so much discouragement around selling your home or property, which is completely understandable, but at what cost do you hold on? And for who? And what? Do you not send your child to the school of their choice? Or move to an area where your kids can play in a yard, or your mother can retire? As much as I would love to see Black neighborhoods preserved throughout Los Angeles and beyond, is that desire more important than my own personal family? I realize that I am fortunate, because I personally don’t have to make those types of choices, but I also understand that some people do. One thing that Black people and people of color understand is that sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. There are other debates that enter my mind about ownership, land, property, and those types of colonial and societal concepts that we all subscribe to, but again, it brings me back to the importance of holding on to something of value if you can’t use it to help yourself and/or your family. With this apartment building leaving my family, there is a range of thoughts happening, all the while, the sale transaction is being made, but overall, the place I come to is acceptance, and I’m ok with it. Moving forward, I’m sure the new owner will have a new maintenance man that is great at his job. Apparently he owns other buildings in the area, so he’ll have someone checking up on the property to take care of things. When I spoke to him briefly, he said that they accept different forms of payment for rent. Venmo, Cash App, Zelle, Paypal, whatever I feel comfortable paying. How convenient.
Back to the photo above, the team at Baldwin Crest Reality. Mr. and Mrs. Cater and Mrs. Johnson, this essay is for you. This is also for Cermak…and Mike. It wasn’t until the sale was complete that I realized that these are things, or in this case people that are also lost in the sale. The local business, the personal relationship, the connection of my dad, my grandmother, and my uncle to all of these things that this apartment has offered for so many years, and those are people, some of which are in the twilight of their lives, I’ll probably never see again. I’m still here, but those relationships are severed. As a renter, I am the last remaining connection to the 4-plex in Leimert Park, and when we move, it will be the end of an era, one that I am thankful to be a part of. But through all of this, I cannot only think of myself and my attachment to the place, for my attachment is 2nd hand. My uncle is the one who is the owner, and is signing away the place. While my experiences here are present day mixed with retrospectives, he’s selling away a lifetime. His birth house, his connection to Aunt Mack, and other ties that I can’t even fathom. After all is said and done, if my uncle is able to let go at the opportunity of having a better future for him and his family, then I should be able to let go as well. We smile because we had it, not cry because it’s gone.
