The Brief

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Three decades ago, Nancy Wallace narrowly escaped death in what was then California's most destructive wildfire. Since then, the problem of wildfires has gotten much worse, so bad in fact that the state now faces a crisis in its market for home insurance. Solving the insurance crisis is something that's very much in Wallace's wheelhouse, and she's been developing some important ideas and tools to try to fix it.

Wallace is a professor of finance and real estate at UC Berkeley's Haas School of Business, and she's a former adviser to the U.S. Treasury Department and Federal Reserve. She specializes in identifying and mitigating financial risks in housing markets, and she's conducted some eye-opening studies on the rising risk of wildfires. She's working with climate scientists to create forecast models that can help rescue failing insurance markets. And she's advocating for new insurance schemes and financial products that would help California homeowners retrofit their homes and lower the danger that they're destroyed by future fires.

But Wallace's expertise in this area is more than just academic. It's informed by her horrifying experience.

A story that begins with fire

On Oct. 20, 1991, Wallace smelled smoke wafting in the air outside of her home, high in the hills above Oakland, Calif. The day before, a fire had broken out down her street. Firefighters had put it out, but she was now on high alert. The air felt dry. The wind was picking up. And the smell of smoke scared her.

Wallace grew up in Michigan, never experiencing the danger of wildfires. She and her husband had moved to Oakland a few years earlier when she got a job at nearby UC Berkeley. They scraped together every penny they could and bought a fixer-upper in the Oakland Hills, near the ridgeline of the mountains above the city, surrounded by Monterey pine and eucalyptus trees. They had finished remodeling their home just one month before this fateful day.

After smelling smoke, Wallace and her husband grabbed family heirlooms and antiques, important documents, some paintings and clothes, and their cat. They jumped in their car. And that's when they saw a hurricane of fire engulfing the neighborhood below them.

The Oakland Hills fire burned thousands of homes and created a dust cloud that could be seen for miles. Picture taken on Oct. 20, 1991.<br>

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<a href="https://www.gettyimages.com/search/photographer?photographer=San%20Francisco%20Chronicle%2FHearst%20Newspapers" class="Link" target="_blank" >San Francisco Chronicle/Hearst Newspapers</a>

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They turned frantic. When they hit a fork in the road, they hesitated whether to turn right or left. Both directions were being enveloped by flames. Wallace insisted they go right.

" Seconds after going right, a car came out of the flames," Wallace says. "And they said, 'If you go up this road, you will die.'"

They said that power lines had fallen on a truck. A firefighter (who turned out to be Oakland Fire Battalion Chief James M. Riley Jr.) and a passenger he was trying to rescue were both dead, and the truck and power lines were blocking the road. Wallace and her husband were forced to turn around.

"At that point our cat shed her fur — literally shed her fur," Wallace says. "Because the fire was just beating on our car. I thought for sure the car would burst into flames."

They drove the other direction, down a winding, one-lane road through the heart of the inferno. Embers were flying everywhere. Houses and trees were bursting into flames. They saw a motorcyclist on fire. They saw frantic drivers crashing into trees. They saw a heroic policeman — officer John William Grubensky, who would soon die attempting to rescue a family from a burning home — on a loudspeaker, trying to keep people calm and get them out safely.

Wallace and her husband got lucky. Their 6-year-old son was miles away, safe and sound during the whole ordeal. He had spent the night at a friend's house. They were also lucky, of course, to escape with their lives. On the very same narrow street they had escaped on, vehicles after them got stuck behind a car that crashed, blocking their exit route. "Just on that one street, I think there were five people who died, along with Officer Grubensky," Wallace says.

The Claremont Hotel in October 1991

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About two weeks later, Nancy and her family returned to see what happened to their home. It had turned to ash. "In the middle of this ash was a porcelain bowl," Nancy says. Porcelain apparently doesn't burn. "It was just sitting on top of the ash by itself. It was surreal. Everything else was gone."

The Oakland Hills fire in 1991 ended up killing 25 people, injuring 150 others, and destroying around 3,000 homes. For a long time, it was the most destructive fire in California history. That is, until the last decade, when California has seen a mind-boggling uptick in even more destructive fires, including two in L.A. in recent weeks.

Why California properties got more valuable after fires

Around five years ago, Wallace recounted her incredible story in the Oakland Hills fire to her former Ph.D. student Carles Vergara-Alert, who was back in Berkeley on a sabbatical as a visiting professor, and two other Berkeley economists, Richard Stanton and Paulo Issler. And it inspired them to study how the rising risk of wildfires was affecting housing markets.

A pretty weird thing seemed to be happening to properties destroyed by fires. Nancy noticed it in her own community. After the fire, people got insurance money and rebuilt their homes. Their homes seemed to get bigger and nicer. And, like elsewhere in the Bay Area, their home values went on a rocket ship to the moon in the decades after the fire. It was like everyone had forgotten that it was still a risky area.

Of course, this was just a casual observation about one place. Wallace, Vergara-Alert, Issler and Stanton decided they wanted to build a comprehensive dataset to see what happened, more systematically, to California housing markets after they were scorched by wildfires.

The dataset they assembled is pretty amazing. After each fire in California, the state's fire agency, Cal Fire, sends a team of technicians to investigate. They create detailed maps of the burn areas and document, house by house, damages. The economists used this rich data on burn areas between 2001 and 2015, focusing on the houses that burned and the nearby houses that did not. They combined this data with their own comprehensive data on virtually every home in California.

You might think that property prices of the houses that burned would plummet. I mean, the house is destroyed, nearby parks, trees, hiking trails, and everything else is scorched, and the home's views become burn zones, at least in the near-to-medium term, before nature and man-made structures come back. Even more, you might think that the risks of living in the area would be top of mind for years to come, suppressing demand to live there. But no. Houses continue to be valuable investments in these fire-prone communities. Not only that. The economists found that, between 2001 and 2015, the properties that burned down and got rebuilt were actually significantly more valuable within five years of the catastrophe. Fire actually boosted their property values!

One sort of obvious reason for this is these rebuilt houses were newer. And they were built to follow a more modern, state-mandated building code, making them more resistant to fire and earthquakes and generally safer. And, just as Wallace had observed in her own neighborhood, these rebuilt houses tended to be bigger.

And, in big wildfires, the houses in whole neighborhoods got built back bigger and better. Because the value of your house is influenced by the value of houses in your neighborhood, that was another boost to property values. Meanwhile, nature recovers — and, Wallace says, it recovers rather quickly in areas with Mediterranean climates — and the amazing beauty of these Californian communities returns.

Now, fires are obviously devastating in terms of lives lost, people hurt, disruptions to business and so on. And for people who don't have insurance, they cause huge financial losses. But — at least in the period the economists studied, when, for the most part, there were functioning private insurance markets that offered full coverage and generous payouts — it seems like fires were actually a financial win for the average insured homeowner who lost their home. They were also a win for developers and construction companies, which rebuilt the homes. And they were at least partially a win for municipalities because rebuilt, more valuable homes meant higher property taxes, offsetting the tremendous taxpayer costs of fighting the fire and cleaning up afterwards.

Of course, there was at least one huge financial loser in all of this: insurance companies. They had to foot the massive bill for home reconstructions.

In normal insurance markets, that's fine. People pay premiums, and those premiums are estimated based on the probability of losses. When those losses materialize, the insurance company pays. It's the whole game.

But, Wallace says, something funky began happening in California's insurance markets, and the state's insurance system ended up breaking down.

How California's insurance market failed

First, the state has had restrictive regulations on what insurance companies can charge. Wallace says that a big force behind that was Proposition 103, which was championed by Ralph Nader. In the 1980s, Nader and other consumer activists argued that insurance companies should be strictly regulated when setting their premium rates. This ballot initiative, which was narrowly approved by California voters in 1988, required insurance companies to get rate hikes approved by the California Department of Insurance, and it introduced a bunch of measures that made rate hikes much harder to impose.

In this post-Prop. 103 regulatory scheme, for example, the state prevented insurance companies from using forward-looking estimates of risk — so-called "catastrophe models" — when setting their rates. Consumer advocates saw these kinds of models, which use computers to forecast an uncertain future, as a Trojan horse for price-gouging. The state forced insurers to only use backward-looking estimates of risk. They figured it was more transparent and fair to use hard, verifiable data from the past. The state required insurers to base their premium rates on a 20-year average of historical losses. It also prevented insurers from pricing into their premiums the cost of "reinsurance," or insurance for insurers — something that insurers sometimes need after extreme weather events require massive payouts.

With these and other measures, the California Department of Insurance effectively kept home insurance premiums artificially low. And, Nancy says, that had some big side effects, like incentivizing more people to live in fire-prone areas.

"Prices are important, especially for things like where people locate, where houses are built," Wallace says. Artificially low insurance prices, for example, may have encouraged cities and developers to build neighborhoods closer to the flammable wilderness. In fact, in recent decades, fire-prone areas have seen some of the fastest population growth rates in the state.

And greater density in fire country may have contributed, Wallace says, to problems like narrow roads prone to traffic jams, making escapes from wildfires — like the one she personally made — much harder. And this increased number of people living in fire-prone areas meant that taxpayers had to invest much more in firefighting and other public services to keep people safe.

For a time, California's insurance system was maybe workable. Big, destructive fires used to be rarer, so the insurance system didn't experience as much stress. But, Wallace says, around a decade ago, there was a tipping point where big wildfires started becoming more frequent and more destructive. California has seen hotter temperatures. Droughts have increased. Wind speeds have picked up. And big, destructive fires have become more commonplace.

With climate change, it has started to become clear that the future will not look like the past, and California's regulations requiring insurers to make pricing decisions based on backward-looking models of risk have started to look pretty dumb.

In a free market for insurance, a higher risk for catastrophe would result in higher insurance premiums. But since California regulations prevented that, insurance premiums stayed artificially low. As big fires began demanding big payouts and the specter of more mass destruction loomed larger, insurance companies struggled to make the math work. And so they began fleeing the state.

"The California Department of Insurance is seriously at fault," Wallace says. "They destroyed the markets."

With no ability to get standard private insurance, many Californians, especially in high-risk areas, were forced onto the state-created insurance plan of last resort, the California FAIR Plan (which is funded by private insurance companies and their policyholders in exchange for these insurers being able to sell property insurance in the state). This plan was not meant to be a permanent solution. It's a high-risk pool. It's expensive and it caps insurance payouts, so people with valuable properties, for example, can't get the full value of their homes insured. (For more on the Fair Plan, listen to The Indicator's recent podcast episode, "Who's on the hook for California's uninsurable homes?")

Last year, seeing insurers fleeing their state — and perhaps seeing the studies by Wallace and others — California regulators came to the conclusion that the state's insurance regulations were unworkable. California's insurance commissioner, supported by Gov. Gavin Newsom, ended the ban on using forward-looking catastrophe models for setting premiums, giving the green light to the insurance industry to start actually trying to price in the rising risk and cost of wildfires. As part of this deal, insurers have agreed to underwrite more policies in fire-prone areas. Those changes took effect mere weeks ago, just before the outbreak of fires around Los Angeles.

Newsom recently touted the fact that, after these changes took effect, a private insurer agreed to insure homes in the town of Paradise, which notoriously burned entirely to the ground in 2018 (listen to this 2021 Planet Money episode about efforts to rebuild the town).

" I thought that was an absolutely crucial step," Wallace says of California's recent reforms to how it regulates insurance markets. "Now we have to get to work and figure out what the true pricing should be."

What is the right price for living in fire country?

Finding the right price for insurance premiums entails building and refining statistical models that can nail down the risks of wildfires for houses and businesses around the state. The current models, Wallace says, are not good enough. Insurance companies and the government, she says, "literally do not know" what the real risks are. There is quite a bit of uncertainty about, for example, how far fires can spread, which exact homes are the most at risk, and whether big fires in certain places are like 50- or 20- or 10-year events. Inaccurate estimates of fire risks, Wallace says, could result in premiums that are too low, as has been the case for a while in much of California, but also too high in some cases.

And that's why she and her colleagues at UC Berkeley, and, more specifically, Wallace's lab at the Fisher Center for Real Estate and Urban Economics, have been building bridges across disciplines, marshaling the data and intellect of climate scientists, computer scientists, engineers, economists and more to create high-tech models that can better estimate the risk of wildfires.

And that's important. As we've seen, the costs of fire destruction are enormous. And someone has to pay for it. If homeowners want to continue living in fire-prone areas, Wallace says, they need to bear more of the risk and, in effect, pay higher insurance premiums.

"This risk cannot be borne exclusively by insurance companies," Wallace says. "It's also got to be borne by homeowners." Bearing more of that risk would, she says, incentivize homeowners to take more actions to protect their properties (and fight what economists call "moral hazard," or people's tendency to not take steps to mitigate risk when they're insured).

Beyond just accurately pricing wildfire risks, Wallace says, the government and insurance companies should work to incentivize and help homeowners to retrofit older, more flammable homes. Wallace points to a study by economists Patrick Baylis and Judson Boomhower. The economists find that California houses built after the mid-1990s — and, even more, those built after 2008 — are far more likely to survive wildfires. That's because the state strengthened its building codes during those years, requiring that homes be built with, for example, more fire-retardant siding and roofs.

" In Paradise, in Sonoma, in Napa, the Woolsey Fire, the houses that survive are those with the post-2008 building code requirements," Wallace says. "The major problem in California is that our [older] housing stock is not built to withstand the embers and the radiant heat of fires."

But updating California's older housing stock is expensive. Which is why Wallace wants policymakers and businesspeople to create new home loan programs, which would make it feasible for California homeowners to invest in making their homes more resistant to fire. She believes this could even be a money-making product for financial firms. " If you're a bank, wouldn't you like to invest in home loans that make the mortgages that you're also planning to make safer?"

Wallace also hopes that, going forward, insurers could offer discounts on home insurance for taking anti-fire measures that lower risks, further incentivizing homeowners to protect their homes and reduce costs. This could be facilitated by technological innovations. For example, Wallace points to a former grad student of hers who created an app, Firebreak, which helps homeowners identify fire risks around their properties.

What happens after the L.A. fires?

As Wallace and her colleagues found in their study, for a long time, California homes that were destroyed by fires ended up getting bigger, better and more valuable. Will the same thing happen again in Los Angeles hillsides after the latest shocking fires?

Wallace suggests that it's possible this time is different. For one, "We don't have that insurance market anymore," Wallace says. "It's been broken  by not allowing firms to price the risk."

Many homes in the L.A. hills were forced off of private insurance policies that gave them full coverage, and they had to turn to the California FAIR Plan, which caps residential coverage at $3 million. There are a significant number of destroyed homes that were worth more than that. Wallace also points to less affluent neighborhoods, like Altadena, where many homeowners did not have insurance (only people with mortgages are required to have fire casualty insurance). Absent some sort of government help, many fire victims will likely be unable to afford reconstruction. In the wake of natural disasters, construction costs tend to surge because tons of people need to build all at once and there are shortages of everything.

Another big cost will be building back better. If the city and state are being sensible, Wallace says, they will make investments in better infrastructure, like a less fire-prone electricity grid and better water systems to fight fires, making it less likely for future fires to break out and spread. Even more, she says, the state should continue mandating that builders of new houses follow the building code that has proved to be more resilient to fires. " It's absolutely nonsensical to build back in the same risky way," Wallace says. (Newsom recently issued a vague executive order on this issue, directing state agencies to waive building regulations to speed up construction, but only those regulations "that can safely be suspended.")

Because of high costs and more limited insurance coverage and other factors, Wallace says, there may be fewer homes built in the L.A. neighborhoods devastated by fires. And, with higher insurance premiums reflecting the risk for buildings there, these neighborhoods will likely become even more exclusive dens for the rich.

Despite the current tragic circumstances, however, these burned-down neighborhoods still have a lot going for them. Their views of the ocean and the city are often incredible. Their charred parks and hiking trails will recover. And they're still close to a legendary metropolis, with a vibrant culture, an incredible economy and a housing shortage. Land in L.A. is still very valuable.

"L.A. is a major, metropolitan, gateway city of the world," Wallace says. "And it is not going away."

And whether it's floods or tornadoes or earthquakes or wildfires, human beings have a remarkable knack for comfortably living in areas with lots of risk.

Wallace expects that, if the state pursues the right path to make these neighborhoods more resilient to future fires and follows through with fixing the state's broken insurance system, destroyed properties in L.A. will be rebuilt, insurable in the private market and they'll eventually "return to trajectory," increasing in value like they were in the years preceding the devastation.

As for the victims who lost everything in the fires, Wallace, reflecting on her own experience losing her home, advises people to begin creating inventories of the things they lost and working with builders to get real estimates of the costs to rebuild, keeping in mind that construction costs will likely climb as everyone else seeks to rebuild. Such information can be crucial for getting adequate payouts. Insurers may provide a vital service, she suggests, but they're not really your friends.

Our most recent Planet Money episode has more on the fires in California. Hosts Sarah Gonzalez and Nick Fountain report on conditions inside the Altadena burn zone, and how one father and son are approaching the difficult choice of how, or whether, to rebuild.

A pair of nesting bald eagles was spotted in Los Angeles County this past week, according to a social media post from the Department of Parks and Recreation. (You can check out the full post and video on Instagram.)

The Department of Parks and Recreation did not disclose the exact location of the birds.

Nesting bald eagles are a fairly rare sight in Southern California, since they're more commonly found close to the California-Oregon border.

A look at where bald eagles typically nest.

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Of course, there are notable exceptions, including Southern California's most famous bald eagles: Big Bear's Jackie and Shadow, whose yearly attempts at parenthood have become big national news on occasion.

Typically, bald eagles' mating season is from January through July or August, according to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife.

What to do if you're lucky enough to see them IRL

Park officials are reminding everyone that bald eagles are a federally protected species and disturbing their nests could “disrupt breeding and impact their success.”

The history

Bald eagles were once close to extinction in the lower 48 U.S. states. By the early 1970s, there were fewer than 30 pairs in California, all in the northern part of the state. The species has rebounded since being protected under federal and state laws.

What's next

It takes about 35 days for bald eagle eggs to incubate. If the L.A.'s new eagle residents lay eggs, Los Angeles could have our very own eaglets as early as next month.

Held by the Los Angeles Review of Books since 2019, LITLIT, or The Little Literary Fair, started out as a way to introduce students from workshops to the publishing industry.

It has since grown into a gathering of independent West Coast publishers from Seattle to Santa Monica. This year’s iteration on June 6 and 7 is the biggest yet, with more than 50 publishers participating in the event at Sci-Arc in Downtown L.A.

People look through a small library of used books from "A Good Used Book," a Los Angeles based book pop-up, during LITLIT 2024.

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It’s ‘small’ lit

The fair aims to get the public in front of books that don’t originate from the so-called “Big Five” publishers — behemoths like Penguin Random House and HarperCollins.

“They really get to control what people get to see, and so we hope LITLIT lets people see more of what is out there and what they can support directly,” said Emily VanKoughnett, public programs and engagement director for LARB.

One of VanKoughnett’s favorite independent publishers will be there. Two Lines Press, the publishing arm of San Francisco’s Center for the Art of Translation, deals specifically in translated works.

Two Lines Press, which specializes in translated works, show off their books to attendees of LITLIT.

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They’ve published authors from across the world, translating books from more than 100 different languages into English.

“ We do our work in quiet rooms, so it's really nice to be able to meet readers and talk to them about what's interesting them. These festivals are really valuable to us in that way,” said CJ Evans, publisher and editor-in-chief of Two Lines.

Pressed locally

Local favorite Angel City Press, which operates under the auspices of L.A. Public Library, will also be there with one of their newly published titles, Los Angeles Central Library POPS, that celebrates 100 years of the Central Library.

People at LITLIT 2024 look through different small presses.

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You’ll also find LA-based Errant Press, which specializes in books that break the traditional form — like a poem printed on measuring tape or a matchbox sized poetry collection.

“It’s really cool to see the kinds of risks that people are able to take, the kinds of communities they’re able to serve and really highlight here on the West Coast,” said Irene Yoon, executive director of LARB.

Panels, printing presses, and workshops

The two-day fair also hosts various panels and workshops, including one on the art of comedic writing and another on how to tell the stories of Los Angeles through archival materials.

“This is, I think, the most panels we've ever done,” VanKoughnett said.

People sit down for a panel discussion at LITLIT 2024.

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Workshops on how to navigate the literary world with a completed manuscript and making your own comics and zines are also on the itinerary.

And Carson’s International Printing Museum will demonstrate how to screen print your own bookmark.

“It's not until we're all in the same room with all our best books literally out on the table that you get to see kind of what a phenomenal publishing culture Los Angeles truly has,” said Terri Accomazzo, editorial director of Angel City Press.

Running a small business is tough under normal circumstances. Running one in a wildfire burn scar can feel nearly impossible.

That's the reality many Altadena business owners are still navigating nearly a year and a half after the Eaton Fire destroyed the community and the local economy. Businesses are grappling with how do you stay open when so many of your customers are gone?

At Wet Paws, a pet grooming business along Lake Avenue, that question recently came to a head.

The shop reopened in January but business remained slow. Wet Paws co-owner Stephanie Trujillo estimates the fire had displaced up to 90% of their customers.

Marley, a Cane Corso from Pasadena, went for her first grooming session at Wet Paws in more than a year.

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Then came a conversation with their landlord several months ago that forced a decision.

"He reached out and said, 'Are you going to re-sign your lease?'" Trujillo recalled.

The answer wasn't obvious.

"I said, unfortunately, we're not even making it. We're paying out of our own pocket," she said. "So he said, 'I'll give you until June 1.'"

The deadline meant Trujillo and her mother, Linda Alashti, who have owned the business together since 2023, had only a few months to figure out whether Wet Paws had a future in Altadena.

Wet Paws is hardly alone. As businesses struggle, Los Angeles County recently launched a program offering free marketing assistance and storefront improvements to fire-affected businesses. The deadline to apply is June 8.

A flag banner and sandwich board on the sidewalk outside Wet Paws advertises its services.

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The county also operates a gift card program to encourage residents to spend money at fire-impacted businesses.

But relief has not arrived quickly enough for many businesses.

One particularly slow April Sunday at Wet Paws drove home how dire the situation had become, when they had only one customer.

As she drove home to Fontana, Trujillo began composing a social media post.

"So this isn't easy for us to share," the post began, "but I wanted to reach out with an open heart and hope."

In the message, Trujillo asked the community to book appointments and spread the word to help their business survive.

Before posting it, Trujillo showed it to her mother.

Wet Paws groomer Elizabeth Ranes takes care of a basset hound client.

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"We're very prideful, and it's very hard to ask people for help," she said. "I felt embarrassed that we had to ask the community for help."

Her mother's advice was simple. "Just post it," she told her. "The worst that's going to happen is nobody sees it or nobody cares."

Instead, the opposite happened. By the next day, the post had been viewed and shared hundreds of times across Instagram and Facebook.

The phone started ringing, said Wet Paws groomer Elizabeth Ranes.

"I got well over 50 calls," Ranes said. "We booked out for the last three weeks of the month when we made that post.”

Customers told Alashti that they “didn't know you were back, because they don't come this way anymore.”

Decor inside Wet Paws embraces a playful canine motif.

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Among those who returned was Penny Dahlstrom, a Pasadena resident whose 113-pound Cane Corso Marley had been a Wet Paws regular before the fire.

Dahlstrom had tried taking Marley to a large pet store chain while Wet Paws was closed.

"My husband went in to pick her up, and he hears crying, and it was her," Dahlstrom said. "That's not just her nature."

The social media appeal didn't just bring back former customers. It also introduced the business to new ones, Trujillo said.

But recovery remains uneven.

Some days are still slow. And the shop continues to deal with lingering fire-related electrical damage in the back of the building.

Wet Paws is operating on a temporary electrical system, limiting how much power it can use at any given time.

"If we run our AC, and the neighbors run their AC, we lose power," Trujillo said.

As the June 1 lease deadline approached, Trujillo and her mother weighed their options. They could walk away and cut their losses. Or they could commit to rebuilding alongside a community they had come to love.

Ultimately, they thought about the response to their post and the customers who had shown up when the business needed them most. And they had faith that Altadena would rebuild to its full strength.

They chose to renew the lease for another three years.

"I can't imagine what the community is going through, losing their homes and losing everything that they had," Trujillo said. "Yet they're still coming back."

And as long as they do, she said Wet Paws will be there for them and their fur babies.

On a recent Monday, students at Breed Street Elementary in Boyle Heights started their day like no other — with a tour of the murals hand-painted over the weekend across the playground.

It’s the latest of seven elementary schools in and around L.A. to get the treatment. Over 70 murals in the last 13 years, brought by a collective of artists to students in under-resourced neighborhoods with little access to art education.

“The kids were so excited,” said Stefanie Barbee, a math teacher at Breed. “Just pure joy.”

The students snaked through the paintings on handball courts and school walls: cartoon animals, bright orange flowers, a circle of meticulously painted lines. The works span genres and sensibilities.

Mural by artist hi-dutch.

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“It's grassroots. We're not getting money from anyone,” said Erik Caruso, the fifth grade teacher in Paramount who's the group glue. To them, they are just an assembly of like-minded friends — and friends of friends — who spend one weekend out of the year hanging out and painting murals for school kids.

But the collective is anything but typical. It includes artists like the late Rich Jacobs, who died from leukemia this year; Tim Kerr; pro skater Ray Barbee; and Japanese artists Yusuke Hanai and hi-dutch. The vibe's always low-key, and somehow they've managed to stay under the radar.

Mural by artist Yusuke Hanai.

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Mural by artist Yusuke Hanai.

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“The kids have no idea that they show in huge galleries or have pieces hanging in museums,” said writer Martin Wong, co-founder of the pioneering Asian pop culture magazine Giant Robot. "Or they're famous in the skateboarding scene or surf or music."

Their reward is the Monday morning after, seeing the happiness on the kids’ faces.

“The artists are waiting all weekend — it’s that moment,” Caruso said.

Mural by artists Sandy Yang and James Hamblin.

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James Hamblin was at Breed for the meet-and-greet earlier this month. He painted a mural designed by his partner Sandy Yang on one of the handball walls.

“Sandy's design is pretty abstract, so it was interesting because the kids were [asking], you know, ‘ What is it?’” Hamblin said. “It was great because I could tell them I had no idea and like, ‘What do you guys think it is?’"

Bring the art museum to the school

Erik Caruso.

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The idea came to Caruso in 2011, after he took about two dozen students from his Paramount school to MOCA and discovered that only four had ever been to an art museum.

“I wonder if there's a way we can bring the art museum to the school,” he said.

Caruso, a 24-year veteran, was no stranger to bringing art — and artists — directly to his students. In 2009, he launched a monthly art project for fifth graders that culminated in a year-end show where they met and shared work with living contemporary artists.

Caruso's 5th grade art project, featuring works by artist Tim Kerr.

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The murals were next.

They painted their first ones at his school in 2012. Soon, the project expanded to the rest of Los Angeles.

Crew at work

Mural by artist Chris Johanson.

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Mural by artist Chris Johanson.

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The painting takes place between Friday and Sunday, but planning takes months.

At Breed, the connection was made through math teacher Barbee — wife of Ray — who is on a two-year stint at the Boyle Heights school to help students catch up on the subject.

“I had sort of planted that seed that at some point I would love for a school I was working at to be the recipient of the beautiful work,” she said.

Breed Street Elementary in Boyle Heights.

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She brought Caruso out for a site visit last September.

“He has a really amazing kind of vision about where to place the artists … based on just their artwork and where it is in relation to the street view,” Barbee said.

Next came an introduction to the principal and the approval process.

“One of the biggest challenges with what we are doing is, you know, they want flipping dolphins and stuff like that,” Caruso said. “But we want to cross over into fine art pieces.”

Mural by artists Lookout & Wonderland.

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Mural by artists Lookout & Wonderland.

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Paying it forward

Caruso estimated that as many as 40 artists and musicians have joined the effort.

The core group now, he said, is about 11 people, and friends and families often tag along to help out, given they have just 16 hours over three days to finish the job.

Mural by artist Oitama.

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Sandy Yang / James Hamblin

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Mural by artist Lori Damiano.

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Operation Creative Freedom

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Among the regulars: Wong and his wife, Wendy Lau, who once organized DIY punk shows to fund music education at their daughter's Chinatown school. In Caruso, they saw a kindred spirit.

Caruso later brought the collective to paint at that school and eventually invited their daughter, Linda Lindas bassist Eloise Wong, to join his fifth grade art and music project.

“All of these kids on the blacktop were all just screaming their hearts out,” Eloise said. “It's cool how Erik — Mr. Caruso to them — shows them, like, raw ways to express themselves through cool art.”