Artists’ District Poised for Lofty Rebound

The peddler selling fringed shirts didn’t have a chance.

“No, no, no. We don’t want any,” insisted the lithe woman clad in black, at the same time shooing him away. The man slowly retreated from the crowd gathered in front of the general store. Conversation turned back to a gallery show opening around the corner.

Victoria Mihatovic knows the drill. Like many residents in the artists loft district east of downtown, she is used to taking a stand. For years, these determined loft dwellers have worked to re-create a vibrant, arts-oriented community that last saw good times more than a decade ago and has since been struggling. Now, some residents and observers say, they’re on the verge of succeeding.

“They’ve gone through the doldrums, but now it’s coming on,” said Adolfo Nodal, general manager of the city Cultural Affairs Department, whose mission is to foster art and culture in the city. “There’s a great opportunity for that part of downtown to reemerge quickly and go way beyond what it was originally.”

The cozy enclave, set against a gleaming backdrop of downtown’s skyscrapers, is more than an emerging art center. About 2,500 people now call the district home, according to the city’s Community Redevelopment Agency.

“It’s Mayberry. We tend to know everyone,” said Mihatovic, referring to the folksy small town in “The Andy Griffith Show.” Instead of clapboard houses with white picket fences and a garage, residents live in light-flooded lofts converted from turn-of-the-century brick buildings and old factories.

Art Share, a 30,000-square-foot converted rag factory that houses a gallery, art classes and a theater stage, exemplifies the district’s new activity. Opened in November, it recently held an art show that drew more than 500 visitors over three days, director Chip Hunter said.

Functioning as a sort of town hall, the nonprofit corporation, which operates through grants and donations, is seen by community members as an incubator for artistic expression.

Drawn by the area’s energy, businesses have started moving in.

A gym and a gallery, which both opened in December, join a mix of mainstays and other recent businesses on Traction Avenue and Hewitt Street to form the commercial hub of the district. Among the businesses: a general store, a bar, two restaurants, a discount electronics store and a combined gallery and production studio.

The district’s renaissance is fueled by the residents who live in the high-ceilinged lofts. Rents run from $1,000 to $1,600 a month for a space inside buildings where a red “A”--for artisan--alerts firefighters that the dwelling is occupied, and where artists claim they can “get messy”--drop paint or clay or saw wood on the industrial floors.

The demand for housing has jumped in the past few years, up from virtually nothing a decade ago. Lofts have waiting lists for occupancy, property managers said. Although several developers said they were exploring possible loft projects, none are being planned for the near future.

Converting industrial buildings into loft space is an expensive, permit-clogged process, said Marlene Vidal, property manager for Zimmerman Development Inc., which has renovated five loft properties in the area.

“You need to make a lot of improvements--adding bathrooms and making lofts earthquake safe,” she said. “It costs millions.”

Only 10 years ago, the area bounded by 1st, 6th and Alameda streets and the Los Angeles River was in steep decline. Residents who had been drawn to a thriving, early-’80s underground arts scene found themselves plagued by increasing car break-ins, drug deals, prostitution and encampments of the homeless.

The homeless came seeking surroundings safer than nearby skid row, said LAPD Sgt. Valerie Cardot, who used to oversee police patrolling the area.

Building owners constructed chain-link fences topped with razor wire, but even such security measures could not stop the flight of galleries, theaters and other businesses, longtime residents said.

The early ‘90s recession, coupled with lingering worries about safety after the 1992 riots, caused other residents to move out.

“After the riots, people feared being downtown,” said sculptor Anthony Goddard, 45, who has lived in a loft on Factory Place since 1984. “People were afraid of the criminal element mixed in with the homeless.”

Fed up with the crime, remaining residents started looking for solutions. Enlisting assistance from the police, they began trying to take back their turf.

Weekly foot patrols, made up of residents and police officers, began in 1993. The patrols gave participants a chance to socialize, exchange information and keep an eye on criminal activity.

“Police stopped and talked to us; they were user-friendly,” said Joel Bloom, 49, proprietor of Bloom’s General Store and the person whom residents consider the de facto mayor of the district.

Typically, a dozen or more people would congregate every Thursday to stroll the streets, said the gravelly voiced Bloom. Patrol officers joined them in asking transients to move along, at times providing the homeless with vouchers for food and shelter.

“It was more of a walk than a patrol,” Sgt. Cardot said. “We became friends with the residents.”

Although most transients departed when asked, police assisted when disputes arose, she added.

Little Tokyo residents offered support and suggestions to their arts district neighbors, at times joining patrols.

“We had a common problem, and we had pride in our neighborhood,” said Brian Kito, crediting the artists’ walks as an inspiration for street patrols in Little Tokyo.

Public improvements added to the district’s sense of security. Two years ago--after repeated demands from residents--the city installed more street lights. Last summer, 100 banners went up, helping identify the arts district.

The community walks ended in late 1996, when the crime rate began dropping: down by nearly two-thirds over the past five years. There were only 23 arrests last year.

The challenge now is to keep criminal activity in surrounding areas from seeping in, said Officer Calvin Hill, who now leads police in the sector.

Occasionally, there are crimes, such as car burglaries, residents said.

“But that could happen in Brentwood or Santa Monica,” pointed out artist Riva Weinstein, 40, who moved in last year. “I feel safer here than in other neighborhoods.”

With the same fervor residents brought to tackling crime, they have initiated other community projects. Trees were planted along the streets in 1995. Many residents helped paint a large mural on Traction Avenue.

Visitors are rediscovering the district. Last summer’s first arts festival, planned to be an annual occurrence, drew more than 15,000 people, said officials from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which co-sponsored the event with the Downtown Arts Development Assn.

“Creative people are willing to take some risks,” said Robert Harris, former chairman of the Downtown Strategic Plan Advisory Committee and a USC architecture professor.

“They may not be in the position to live in a more expensive area, but they know the difference between the mean and the beautiful,” said Harris, who is optimistic about the district’s future. “It’s wonderfully located and accessible. There’s nothing but momentum to be seen in the months and years ahead.”

Although pleased with the district’s development, residents still long for the “amenities” that more established communities take for granted, such as a dry cleaner, bookstores, a hardware store and a supermarket.

Painter Sam Hubbell, a soft-spoken 23-year-old, snapped up a loft a year ago when searching for an urban alternative to Pasadena.

“I can connect with people here,” Hubbell said. “It’s tucked away in the city.”