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Chicano Park PILLAR OF THE COMMUNITY By Ozzie Roberts April 18, 2000 If the state had gotten its way 30 years ago, a California Highway Patrol substation would now sit in Logan Heights in the shadows of the San Diego-Coronado Bridge and its stanchions. But Chicano Park sprawls there on 7.4 acres between National and Logan avenues. Hundreds of passionate souls, activists such as the neighborhood's late icon Laura Rodriguez, put their feet down and said, "no" to the bureaucrats. Their long-established neighborhood, they said, had already been "raped" and disrupted by the bridge and a legion of other unwanted intrusions, including Interstate 5. A CHP substation would be yet another insult. And on April 22, 1970, with Rodriguez, then a 60-year-old grandmother, standing in front of a revving bulldozer, the protesters took over the site. They held up grading work on it for 12 days and vowed that this chunk of earth would become something meaningful to the people of el Barrio de la Logan. From that struggle rose Chicano Park, a landmark celebrating its 30th anniversary this weekend, and one of the most recognized community parks in the world. Back to the community Artists, such as Victor Orozco Ochoa, have recounted that trial and other toils of their neighborhood and its culture through dozens of powerful murals they've painted on park walls and bridge columns. "I was 22 years old at the time (of the land takeover)," recalls Ochoa, who was among the original protesters. "It was kind of magical, with the spirit of the elders and the young people together. Grandmothers are highly respected in this culture, and with the grandmothers involved, we knew it was something that was right to be doing. "There was unity, too. There were people there, not just from Logan, but from barrios as far away as Oceanside and Los Angeles. And it all kind of symbolized the Chicanos taking the land back to the community -- that was a real important thing." More people than just the veterans of that battle believe that the park is in the right place. Fourteen-year-old David Guzman, and his family, including his three brothers and one sister, ranging in age from 6 to 15, have long lived across one of the two main thoroughfares bordering the park. "It's great having it so close to the house -- it's a good place for us to play," says David. "The murals remind us of Mexican history." Longtime Logan Heights resident Jose Mendoza, 35, grew up playing at the park. "All different nationalities come to the park and enjoy it," says Mendoza. "Some people have said that it's a dangerous place -- but it's not." Throughout the '70s and early '80s, before youth curfews and bans on alcohol in parks took hold across the nation, Chicano Park developed some notoriety as a frequent, mostly late-night hangout for gangs and other young rowdies. But especially within Logan Heights, the bad activities were viewed as aberrations. Over the years, says Chicano Park Steering Committee chair Tommie Camarillo, "more and more family activities have been held in the park. And they helped (greatly) to push out the bad element." Few in Barrio Logan have stronger ties to Chicano Park than Camarillo, and no one takes more pride in the place. She was one of the original protesters, too. And the professional cook puts in more hours than she can count for weeks and weeks, getting the annual park celebration ready around this time every year. "People recognize the park's true value and importance to the community," she says. "And I get tired from the work, but never tired of it. "It puts a feeling all around you that goes into your heart." And, just like the park and its art, that feeling "is beautiful." Preserving the past Camarillo's volunteer committee acts as the park's official/unofficial caretaker and political watchdog on all issues -- political and social -- affecting it. And the committee's 80 members (although not all are active) favor extending the park's boundaries an additional four blocks west to San Diego Bay. Most active members, like Ochoa, now 52, and the 53-year-old Camarillo, were but young adults in those heady days when their elders stood up for la raza (the people). They learned from the likes of Rodriguez, Alfonso Johnston, Jose Gomez and others -- most of whom are gone now -- says Ochoa, that pride in the park must be passed on. And younger generations throughout the community at large must be charged with a sense of responsibility for preserving and enhancing the park and its art. "The park is in Barrio Logan, and we fought to get it," says Ochoa. "But it's for everyone -- it belongs to the people." Elders, like 67-year-old Eduardo Johnston, Alfonso Johnston's son, never forget. Johnston's old Victorian-style home, standing just beyond the bridge shadows, is a constant reminder of why all the original commotion was so important. "There used to be rows of Victorian houses lining Logan Avenue, between Evans Street and Dewey Street, and there were several more multilevel Victorians in the spot where the park now sits," Johnston recalls. "But first in the (mid '50s, the state) came in with Interstate 5, then in the late '60s, they came with the bridge. Each time, they took houses and cut into people's property. "They uprooted families, forcing them to move. And along with the fact that junkyards and other polluting businesses were being allowed to proliferate here, my dad and the others said enough was enough. "They fought hard for the park. And it became good for the neighborhood because it's a place for the kids to use and for the community to gather." Copyright 2000 Union-Tribune Publishing Co.
By Robert L. Pincus April 18, 2000 You need only look around Chicano Park to know it's celebrating an anniversary. At least two of the many murals on the support columns and adjoining walls of the San Diego-Coronado Bridge let you know that it's turning 30. The park, which commemorates its own history at several turns, is also a vital part of art history and local cultural history. Its fame would endure even if the murals were to fade -- and some are in worrisome condition. On the positive side, new murals have appeared in every decade and some have been restored. The park is a remarkable artifact, testimony to grass-roots activism of the '60s and '70s. It remains a thriving entity, an ebullient expression of Barrio Logan, as well as a living museum. A new mural is being created to coincide with this milestone. Artist Victor Ochoa -- who was on hand to help found the park and to create some of its first murals -- is working with middle and high school students to mark the occasion. In a program administered through San Diego State University, college students helped recruit the younger artists and serve as their mentors. The finishing touches on this latest mural will be complete for the 30th anniversary weekend this Saturday and Sunday. It's perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the park that not one artist but many would craft this latest mural, and that some of these artists would be students. It is a place for the people and by the people -- the quintessential example, in San Diego County, of a harmonious meshing of community and public art. There is no greater concentration of murals anywhere in California or even the United States. Los Angeles has more Chicano murals from the same period, but Chicano Park is an outdoor museum without rivals. No doubt some of the park's muralists looked to the pioneers of the 20th-century mural for inspiration. There is one devoted to the big three of the form: Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco and David Siqueiros. It is especially significant that the trio of historically pivotal muralists were Mexican, since the heritage that the park celebrates is so intimately linked to Mexican history, recent and ancient. Aztec iconography abounds, expressing not only a paean to Chicano roots but a vision of a place that transcends the international border a few miles south of the park: Aztlan. It is a term credited to the Nauhatl Indians of pre-Colonial days, describing a land that spans Northern Mexico and the Southwestern United States. "Hecho (Made) in Aztlan," emblazoned on some murals, is a statement of a visionary future -- with mythic and utopian implications. But Chicano Park also narrates real history, of the community and the larger world. "Varrio Si! Yonkes No!" declares an example from 1977. A loose translation: yes to anything that helps the neighborhood flourish; no to junkyards, which are a blight to it. Ochoa was the driving force behind this mural, like several others. And he enlisted an unusual group of collaborators: "hard dudes" who frequented the park. This approach to creating a mural blurred boundaries between artist and audience in a salutary way, and it's indicative of the deep bond between the community and this art. Chicano Park was a prime example of the second great wave of mural-making in the 20th century, which took place in the second half of the '60s and in the '70s -- roughly coinciding with the Chicano Civil Rights Movement or "el movemiento." Political ferment went hand in hand with artistic ferment. Local artists made all of the first murals, in the early '70s; names are too numerous to list. Ochoa, Salvador Roberto Torres and Mario Torero are key figures from the park's formative years who still take an active role in its preservation and growth. By the last years of the decade, prominent Chicano muralists from across the state had contributed to its images. The bold mural with the faces of Rivera, Orozco, Siqueiros and Kahlo was designed by the noted Bay Area artist Rupert Garcia. Sacramento's Royal Chicano Air Force, led by Jose Montoya Esteban Villa and Juanishi Orosco, made a contribution, as did Charles "Cat" Felix Jr. from the Boyle Heights area of Los Angeles. Though several murals were conserved or renovated in the '90s, many continue to age dramatically. They survived potential destruction from the ongoing retrofit project on the bridge, when Caltrans decided to take extreme measures to protect them. But it may prove more difficult to save them from the ravages of time and urban pollution. Any officeholder -- on the federal, state or local level -- who wants to mitigate the pervasive cynicism about politicians and politics, would do well to champion their preservation. It would be an eminently wise use of tax dollars. Future milestones for Chicano park should be as celebratory as this one.
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