Archive / City Stories
“Every other garage in Long Beach has a surfboard in it,” observes Graham Day, who cites this as one of his reasons for opening Shelter surf shop on Fourth St. in 2007. “People are surprised when they come in to the store; they are always saying, ‘This is how a surf shop should be’ or ‘This is how it used to be when I was a kid.’
“The other reason we opened Shelter was Long Beach’s rich surf history,” Day continues. “Historically, Long Beach was one of the best waves around. In fact, one of the surfing legends, Duke Kahanamoku, always made sure to surf Long Beach when he was in Southern California.”
Having grown up in the South Bay, Day moved to Huntington Beach as a teenager. With a father and uncle who grew up surfing, the sport was in his veins; it was only natural for him to be captivated by its lifestyle. “It’s always been about my time in the ocean—the shared experience with my friends and the inspiration that comes through music and art,” Day explains. After he and his wife Kim moved to Long Beach 18 years ago, he “quickly felt that Long Beach kind of existed on its own. It’s not LA and it’s not OC, and I liked that and fell in love with it.”
Known for the art shows and music events that he holds at the store on the last Saturday of every month, Day looks forward to 2010. He intends to have even more swap meets and events in the coming year, continuing his support for local artists and designers—especially those inspired by the ocean in our decidedly non-surf-oriented town. “I love making things work where they shouldn’t work,” says Day. “It doesn’t get any better than that.” SCOTT JONES
“About four years ago, I found a bike frame in my neighbors’ front yard that they were giving away, and well, it’s been all downhill from there!” recalls Long Beach resident Jason Wood, aka “Woody.” He had no idea what he—and his bike—were getting into. With his outgoing personality and friendly smile, Wood has since become a popular figure, earning the nickname the “Mayor of Downtown.” “I’m known as the weird guy who will talk to anybody,” he says.
Born and raised in Norwalk, Wood moved to Long Beach 11 years ago. “I remember my first time driving through the city and seeing all the lights and thinking, ‘This is my home,’” he explains. In addition to working as a stagehand for such festivals as Coachella, last month Wood launched a fun, healthy and innovative way to earn some cash on the side. With “Take It Away, Biker,” his twofold advertising and courier business, Wood pedals through town on errands for his clients. “You got dry cleaning? We’ll pick it up! Got a headache at work? We’ll pick up some aspirin for ya!” he explains. Joining him on his assignments is a makeshift billboard that he totes behind him, open to those seeking to advertise their businesses.
Wood recently added his friend Zack to the team. “Zack has been phenomenal in taking over the biking and allowing me to take courier calls,” Wood says. On a recent weekend the two completed nearly 100 runs, biking anywhere from downtown over to Cal State Long Beach. “The good thing about this is that it’s completely green, and no one else is doing anything like it,” he says. Plus, it’s a surefire way to stand out: “I like being a weirdo. I don’t want to be like everybody else!” CAITLIN HOLLIDAY
Ten years ago, Chrissy Cox picked up a broomstick and began to teach herself how to fire dance. “I would make the same movements with the broomstick with one hand for five minutes to build up muscle memory, and then switch over to my other hand for five minutes,” says Cox, who would continue the same process for about an hour. It worked. A week later, she had moved on to poi, the ball-and-chain instruments lit by fire dancers for their routines. “I guess you can say that I am kind of a pyro,” she explains. “I have always been fascinated with fire, and I have danced ever since I can remember. The two were a perfect match for me.”
After moving from Santa Cruz to Long Beach in 2003, Cox quickly connected with the artists’ community, starting a fire-dance troupe—comprising a team of dancers and a drum squad—called Sirena Serptina. Cox finds that the live drum beats ground her, allowing her to stay focused on her dancing. “At the beginning, I would get so caught up in the music that I would forget that I was even performing in front of an audience,” she recalls.
Cox imagines fire dancing will always be a part of her life; she can easily see herself old and grey, continuing to challenge her mind, body and soul and entertain—and instruct—those around her. “My destiny is being a teacher,” she says. “Whether it is teaching yoga, poi or belly dancing, I find my joy and passion in helping to inspire a student—which in turn quite often inspires me.” SCOTT JONES
On New Year’s Day in 2008, Jeff Hyland and his friend Mike Tryon left Southern California on bicycles en route to Florida. They called the journey, which took them through the Southern states, “the Southern Tier.” “The purpose of the ride was to educate people about environmental conservation, and to inspire them to ride a bike more often,” Hyland explains.
For Hyland, this sort of adventure was something he could not pass up. In 2006 he spent a year in Costa Rica with famed biologist Jim Wolf, editing video on local insects and spiders. “Wolf’s dedication and passion for biology motivated me to want to do what I felt I was made to do,” Hyland recalls. Less than two years later Hyland was on the road, at work on his own documentary, at times sleeping in awkward places like horse stalls and hanging out at the Biosphere II in Arizona (minus Pauly Shore).
The journey to Florida took them over four months, and they poetically finished the ride on Earth Day. Over 170 hours of footage were compiled on the trip, which is being made into a four-part documentary series on major issues ranging from water conservation to climate change. “The environmental movement is about humans, not just polar bears,” says Hyland. “It’s about educating the future generations so that they can enjoy this planet as much as we have.” // SCOTT JONES
Sixty years ago, when Autrilla Scott, then a resident of Hope, Arkansas, agreed to babysit a four-year-old boy named Billy, she had no idea the young toddler would grow up to become the 42nd president of the United States. “He was a cute little boy. I let him do whatever he wanted to,” recalls Scott, who moved to Long Beach with her husband, Olen, in 1955.
On Feb. 24, 1996, as President Clinton arrived at Long Beach’s Jackie Robinson Academy to support LBUSD’s newly-introduced school-uniform policy, Scott reconnected with “Billy.” “I didn’t know what to say to him. I almost fainted,” says Scott. (She did remind Clinton that his stepdad never paid her for her childcare services, however.)
Scott and her husband raised two children in Long Beach, where she worked as a rehabilitation nurse at the VA Hospital. Her 30 years at the hospital remain significant to her. “I got to help all kinds of people, from veterans that were mute to a hit man on the run from the law,” she recalls.
A tour of Scott’s home in the 6th District reveals wall after wall filled with awards, certificates, plaques and photos of family members and personal heroes like Martin Luther King, Jr. A longtime city activist, Scott recognizes that we are still far from reconciling our nation’s challenges with poverty and racial injustice: “We need to learn to share and be fair.” // SCOTT JONES
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John Williams’ big bull revelation began almost 20 years ago. At age eight, he visited Rawhide Ranch with a few friends and entered his first sheep-riding competition simply because he thought it would be a fun thing to try. Williams ended up winning the contest two weeks in a row. Recently, he graduated from the ovine to the bovine.
An hour after his first bull-riding pep talk, Williams found himself straddling a 1,300-pound monster with rope in hand. “They didn’t tell me anything except hang on tight,” he recalls. Nevertheless, in Williams’ first attempt he lasted the full eight seconds. One might call it beginner’s luck, but he puts it a different way: “I was scared shitless!”
After Williams’ fourth ride, he was lying face down, knocked out with a mild concussion. “When someone asks if I am afraid of getting hurt, the honest response is that it’s not if I’m going to get hurt but when and how bad.”
Every Wednesday night, Williams makes the trek to Norco, where he practices his sport with other aspiring bull riders. “The other riders don’t respect me yet because I am new at this and I am from the city,” Williams says. “But I can hopefully change their minds through my weekly improvement.” One practice usually costs him 40 dollars for three rides on three different bulls. “A good ride is when everything clicks—when the bull’s movements are in synch with my own, and I am completely focused,” he explains.
Williams’ goals are fairly straightforward: he wants to go pro in four years. With his first competition coming up November 4 and 5 in San Dimas, he has his eye on the prize: “This sport is 90 percent mental. You can’t just sit on a bull and question if this is a good idea. You just gotta go.” // SCOTT JONES
Sitting on a stool inside her freshly-painted, yellow barber shop—the recently-opened AFROS on Pacific Avenue—fifth-generation barber Teves Lee recounts proudly and humbly the story of how she got to where she is today: a local business owner and the founder of Haven of Hope, a nonprofit serving Long Beach’s homeless population.
Shortly after closing the doors of her first barber shop, AFROS of Hollywood, in 2003, Lee encountered a troubled period that left her wandering the streets of LA, bouncing between countless homeless programs and shelters that would ultimately fail her. Eventually, Lee landed in jail. Upon parole three years later, she recalled her experiences with homelessness and was compelled to create a shelter in Long Beach to help others avoid the problems and pitfalls she had encountered.
But Lee was released from prison with barely any resources. She remains surprised at how much support she received as Haven of Hope launched. “I had no idea how easy it would be to meet such a great need in the city or how easily the doors would open,” she says. With the help of her cofounder and partner, Vonetta Mobley, Lee opened the first Haven of Hope house in May of 2008, serving homeless families and individuals in Long Beach and providing free on-site childcare, life-skills training and interview workshops.
Despite receiving no financial support from the government, Lee and Mobley recently opened Long Beach’s fifth Haven of Hope. Lee recognizes that none of this would have been possible without the unending and indispensable support of the people in her community, who continue to donate food, clothing and other items on a regular basis.
Reflecting upon her history, Lee smiles, a reminder that we can be released from the limits of our past when we understand what we are meant to do—and have the help and support of our community. // EMILY KEY
Jared Freitag, a Long Beach native and animator/illustrator, has mixed feelings about Christmas, but it’s safe to say he likes it more now than he did on Dec. 25, 2004, when a drunk driver collided with his vehicle head-on, nearly costing him his life.
Christmas morning had never been an eventful holiday for Freitag until that day. “I always thought Santa was supposed to come on Christmas morning,” jokes Freitag. “My mom, however, thought he arrived the day before, while we were all still at Christmas Eve service.”
Because his family had celebrated Christmas the night before, Freitag chose to spend the next morning with his girlfriend. He was on the road to meet her when his life took a violent turn for the worse.
“I came to, and everything was black. I remember feeling the oxygen leaving my lungs, and a man was holding a rag to my face,” recalls Freitag. Confused about what was going on, Freitag was given the rag to hold while onlookers tried to pull him from the vehicle. “That’s when I noticed there was blood pouring from my face. But I couldn’t feel a thing. I just remember the people screaming.”
Unable to even recall what day it was, Freitag sat immobile while civilians called the paramedics. It was then that Freitag first learned that he had just been hit by a drunk driver.
“He walked away from the scene,” Freitag remembers. “He didn’t even get jail time. He said he was in my lane because he sneezed.”
His car and body mutilated, Freitag was lifeflighted from the scene to a local hospital, where doctors rushed to repair not only his face, but also the third-degree lacerations on both his spleen and liver.
“You would think someone that went through that kind of thing would have some eye-opening epiphany,” Freitag says. But not so for him. “It could have gone either way, you know? It happened so quick; I had no say over whether I lived or died.
“If life can be over so quickly, why stress about whether you live or die?”
Freitag now spends his time living every day to the fullest, in the company of close friends. And he carries with him the scars of an impossible survival. // LOUIE HUESMANN
Mike La Rizza is popular with an unlikely crowd: a flock of pigeons. When he sits down outside Rally’s Burgers for his daily lunch of fries, a diet Coke and a cheeseburger, the birds flock to him like old friends. None too shy, the birds will perch on his wrist for a chance at a fry; and some are so bold as to snatch one from between his lips. Unusual? Sure. But Mike has seen a lot of things, including his family turn a house into a pizzeria.
In June of 1960, riding a reputation among friends and family, Mama Ann La Rizza finished converting a local home into a restaurant and opened La Rizza’s on Seventh and Gardenia. As time passed, her son Mike eventually took the reigns. His faithfulness to La Rizza’s is remarkable; he hasn’t missed a day of work in 14 years. “You take the desire, and you can do it,” Mike says.
That drive extends beyond La Rizza’s, too. Just take his childhood desire to play the spoons. In 1959, Rudy, a popular performer at a local bar, shot Mike down when he asked to mentor him in the ways of the spoons. Unfazed, Mike answered: “I’m going to learn how to play them better than you.” After several months of training, everyone agreed that Mike had eclipsed Rudy.
Today, Mike plays the spoons at local hot spots to attract business for La Rizza’s. Through the years, the likes of Elvis Presley, Julia Roberts, David Hasselhoff and Bill Cosby have stopped in to try the authentic Italian cuisine. The place is especially known for its shrimp primavera, pizza and shrimp scampi. For Mike, it’s about “the pride of making good food, keeping it the way my mama made it.” Mike’s determination and love for his family’s tradition keeps the momentum going. Next year, La Rizza’s will celebrate its milestone 50th anniversary. // PAUL MURUFAS
Growing up in Japan, Saiko Nakamura passed time in the classroom doodling cartoons in her notebook, eventually creating her own duck-like character, Tarabu. Today, as an illustration major at Cal State Long Beach, she continues to sketch him—along with friends of his—on somewhat of a daily basis.
Nakamura arrived at the university due to its relative proximity to Japan and its arts program. She has logged many hours in the International House—living in it for three years—learning about various cultures and making many friends.
Eventually, Nakamura anticipates graduating and moving back to her homeland. She hopes to design children’s books (some of them in an anime style) and bring joy to her readers. And even though Nakamura enjoys living stateside—“I love people in Long Beach,” she says—she feels her art is best-suited for a Japanese audience. Hopefully, she’ll be able to leave a little joy with us before heading home.
// NATE BROWN
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