The Brief

Nothing says summertime like children selling lemonade outside their homes. A paper cup of the sweetly tart concoction can be so refreshing on a sweltering summer day. And in Los Angeles, there is often an added bonus — the lemons are most likely local, picked from trees in the children’s own yards.

Lemons are so plentiful today that it's not uncommon to see baskets full of Lisbons, Meyers and Eurekas being offered for free in front of houses.

People unload them on their neighbors, having used as many as they can in lemon curd, lemon bars, lemon pies, homemade limoncello, and of course, lemonade.

But the lemon, and its big sister the orange, are much more than just fun fruits for home gardeners. The course of the citrus industry in California has dramatically shaped the state's economic fortunes and brought it worldwide acclaim as a bountiful Eden of health and happiness.

Mediterranean climate

A family picking lemons in 1928

Orange and lemon seeds were first brought to California by Spanish missionaries colonizing the area in the late 18th century.

The Spanish soon discovered that the area’s Mediterranean climate, its mild winters and plentiful sunshine (most California lemons are harvested in winter and early spring), made it the ideal place to grow citrus. The Mission San Gabriel and Mission San Fernando had the most luscious groves, and its fruits were used to feed acolytes and keep illnesses like scurvy at bay.

However, from the start, the growth of citrus in California had an exploitative underbelly. “The Spanish may have brought the seeds and whatnot, but they made the Native Americans, whom they press-ganged into doing labor, actually plant and harvest and tend to the crops,” says Benjamin Jenkins, associate professor at the University of La Verne and author of Octopus’s Garden: How Railroads and Citrus Transformed Southern California.

 The commercialization of citrus began in 1831, when an enterprising French immigrant named Jean-Louis Vignes bought 104 acres of land just outside the original Pueblo de Los Angeles (now the Arts District) on the Los Angeles River. On his sprawling ranch, named El Aliso, he grew grapes to make his famed wines, as well as orange and lemon trees.

He soon had competition in the form of his neighbor, a former Kentucky fur trapper and cowboy named William Wolfskill. On his equally sprawling ranch, he grew grapes, oranges (he helped develop the famed Valencia orange) and lemons, and by the 1840s he had the largest citrus grove in North America.

Horse-drawn float of the Cahuenga Valley Lemon Association in a parade in Hollywood

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Los Angeles Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Photo Collection

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The enormous volume and consistent quality of California citrus, and the fortune that could be made growing the fruits, soon caught the attention of visitors.

In much of the country lemons and oranges were a rare luxury, but here they were so plentiful their unmistakable scent filled the air. In 1870, an Eastern visitor to Los Angeles wrote an essay extolling the city in the Los Angeles Daily News:

Its climate cool, from the sea breezes, it is the most agreeable in the world, its soil productions beyond parallel. Immense vineyards, orange and lemon groves, give beauty to the landscape; and I can only say that if I had my life to begin, and had the talent… I should not hesitate to place myself there at once.

A lemon grove in Altadena

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Los Angeles Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Photo Collection

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New varieties

Southern Californians also began to experiment with citrus, creating their own unique varieties. While the Lisbon lemon, a variety originally from Portugal, continued to grow in abundance, it was soon matched in popularity by the Eureka lemon, a thornless, everbearing and hearty variant propagated by Los Angeles nurseryman Thomas Garey in 1877.

So profitable was the citrus industry, according to Jenkins, that its produce was one of the main reasons that the major rail companies began to extend their lines to Los Angeles in the late 1800s.

And when they did, they chose to build their terminals and rail yards directly around the Wolfskill and Vignes’ properties, a logistics’ gold mine in terms of exporting citrus across the country. Soon, the area was swallowed up by the railroads, and citrus moved into open land elsewhere.

“California didn't invent the citrus industry in the United States,” Jenkins says. “But it definitely dominated by the time the railroads came in about the 1880s and 1890s.”

Women working in a lemon packing house, part of the California Fruit Growers Exchange

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Los Angeles Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank Photo Collection

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Boosters in Southern California saw the orange and lemon as powerful PR tools to entice sickly, wealthy Midwesterners and Eastern settlers in search of health and rejuvenation. Sanitariums, where you could recover from tuberculosis and other ailments in the sunshine and clear California air, began to open, and many of the patients, once healed, never left the state.

“If you were to look at newspaper accounts from Victorian California, from the Gilded Age advertisements, and correspondence people are sending back east, they’re absolutely thinking of California as a paradise, where in particular a lot of invalids come to try to heal themselves of consumption or tuberculosis or other lung problems,” Jenkins says.

“And part of the prescription that many of their doctors would tell them is that you spend some time in your sanitarium, but then you buy a little plot of land in California, you plant some oranges, and you get hopped up on vitamin C from maybe the lemonade that you're growing as well.”

The Cahuenga Suburban newspaper from 1896

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Los Angeles Public Library/Security Pacific National Bank collection

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The rise of Sunkist

In 1893, the Southern California Fruit Exchange, which is now known as Sunkist, was formed by a co-op of growers to help protect their assets and to lobby for California grown citrus. The powerful group (now based in Valencia) became a powerhouse in PR, placing advertising in paper and magazines across the country, promoting orange juice and lemonade as all-American staples.

“They promoted the idea that you should not only drink lemonade, but make sure that it's Sunkist made from lemons in California,” Jenkins says. “In The Saturday Evening Post or Ladies Home Journal they would have lavish illustrations showing a huge pitcher of lemonade with maybe a couple of lemons sitting next to it, touting the benefits of vitamin C and how it's like drinking a little bit of California sunshine.”

The campaigns were a brilliant success, and the consumption of lemonade across America spiked dramatically. The number of lemon trees also grew from 62,000 lemon bearing trees in 1882 to 800,000 trees by 1901.

The same year Sunkist formed, Limoneria, one of the first agribusinesses to tout the lemon as its primary crop, was founded in the Ventura town of Santa Paula. By 1908, it was known as “the greatest lemon ranch in the world.” That year, the Ventura Free Press reported:

A further increase in the size of the largest lemon plantation in the world...will be the result of planting this season at the Limoneira Ranch. There are now...27,000 bearing lemon trees on the property, and this year trees will be on 300 acres more. The crop last year was the largest since the planting has begun. Bigness is not the chief end kept in view by the management of the ranch. The growth of the enterprise, in fact, has come from never flagging efforts to maintain and improve the quality of the product.

But while many were making their fortune in the citrus business, the people who did the actual work in the groves were primarily poorly paid immigrants.

“The people who worked in these fields were primarily Chinese immigrants who had formerly worked for the railroads,” Jenkins says. “The Chinese were often made to live in railroad box cars because those were the houses that were available.”

As restrictions on Chinese immigration were passed, Korean, Japanese and European immigrants increasingly worked backbreaking days in the blazing sun, cultivating California’s dream fruits for the masses.

Photograph from the Valley Times dated December 22, 1962 shows Mrs. Ernest Ortega, from Reseda, holding a large lemon from her tree

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Los Angeles Public Library (Valley Times collection)

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Hollywood lemon groves

Citrus soon found a new booster when a director named Cecil B. DeMille came west in 1913 and leased a lemon grove in the small hamlet of Hollywood. There, his company shot The Squaw Man, the first feature-length movie filmed in Los Angeles, amongst the lemon trees.

According to Taschen’s beautiful new book The Gourmand’s Lemon: A Collection of Stories and Recipes, DeMille was not the only Hollywood pioneer to stake his claims on a citrus ranch.

In 1918, Charlie Chaplin opened his first studio in a lemon grove on Sunset and La Brea. “The silent star kept a few of the trees on his lot,” The Gourmand notes, “as evidenced by a goofy snippet of footage that shows him picking a lemon and pulling faces as he tries to eat it, skin and all.”

Even the lemon industry would be fodder for on screen hijinks. According to The Gourmand’s Lemon, in a 1923 short, entitled Oranges and Lemons, comedian Stan Laurel played a citrus worker trying to pack a citrus crate, while constantly being foiled by a wayward conveyer belt.

By the 1930s, California’s two most famous exports were films and citrus. They collided at the San Bernardino National Orange Show in 1939. According to Douglas Cazaux Sackman, author of the fascinating Orange Empire: California and the Fruits of Eden, visitors to the expo were greeted by “manikins of Joan Crawford and Marlene Dietrich lolling in the lawn chairs among garden paths laid out with lemons and lolling in orange chairs among garden paths laid out with lemons and grapefruit, and pretty-boy Clark Gable in neat white flannels and open throat shirt under a fake orange tree glistening with two large golden globes.”

Movie stars also found that lemons, still plentiful though the major groves were long gone, aided them in their strict beauty regimens. “Tinseltown’s Golden Age sirens enjoyed their lemons off screen,” The Gourmand’s Lemon notes. “Rita Hayworth rinsed her hair with lemon juice, Joan Crawford rubbed elbows with it, Katharine Hepburn scrubbed her face with sugar and lemon, and Marlene Dietrich sucked on lemon wedges between takes, believing it would keep her facial muscles perfectly taut for the camera.”

Workers rights

In 1942, the Bracero agreement was reached, which permitted Mexican citizens to come to America as temporary workers in agriculture, and they began to dominate the citrus groves. “For a majority of these men working in the grove, they had to leave their families behind to live and work here,” says Jose Cabello, state interpreter at the California Citrus State Historic Park in Riverside. “Their homes were pretty dismal, hastily made and set up in fairgrounds, old warehouses, prison barracks, and sometimes even along the Santa Ana River.”

After WWII, urban sprawl, industrialization and a decline in the citrus industry pushed most of the remaining commercial groves out of Los Angeles and Orange County and into the Central Valley, where they remain to this day. But Sunkist would not be daunted and continued to promote California citrus products across the world, increasingly encouraging people to use lemons in new and novel ways.

“A lemon is not one product but a group of totally different products,” said Don Francisco, the marketing genius of Sunkist. “A lemon may be classed as a pie, a hair rinse, a cool drink, a hot drink, a garnish, a mouthwash, a vinegar or a skin bleach. The toilet and medicinal value of the lemon are alone sufficient to bring it fame.”

By the 1960s, the fight for farm workers’ rights spearheaded by the Agriculture Workers Association had begun to open Californian’s eyes to the inequity of Big-Ag. The lemon, once a symbol of youth and promise, began to be seen in a more sour, cynical light. In her 1966 essay Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream, Joan Didion wrote of a lemon grove that was “too lush, unsettlingly glossy, the greenery of nightmare.”

Today, the history of citrus in California can be best experienced at the California Citrus State Historic Park in Riverside. The lush, fragrant living museum is home to thousands of citrus trees and offers tours and educational programs documenting the history of citrus in the state, and the memories of those who worked in the field.

“We grow about 70 different types of citrus,” Cabello says. “And among those 70, about 12 of those are lemons.”

His favorite lemon in the park is the variegated pink Eureka lemon, created right here in California. “It's a very unique kind of lemon because as its name suggests, the fruity flesh on the inside is a pink color,” he says. “The lemons, as they're forming, theylook like little watermelons because the fruit has green stripes on it that you would expect a normal watermelon to have. So, this specific lemon is pretty sour. You would expect it to be. But I find them really delicious.”

Although most Angelenos now only see lemon trees in backyards and parks, California produced a 50-year high of 1.06 million tons in 2022-2023. So, next time you squeeze a lemon into your iced tea or over your hair for some natural summer highlights, remember — you are holding a bit of California history in your hands.

It’s been more than a year now since the Eaton Fire devastated Altadena, destroying more than 9,000 structures and killing 19 people.

A group of about a dozen fire survivors said they were excited to get back to something they’d been doing together for years: a weekly informal pickup soccer game at Loma Alta Park.

But what they found was a ballfield battle they weren’t expecting.

Getting through hard times 

On a recent sweltering Sunday at Loma Alta, the park was abuzz with life: kids playing on a large jungle gym and parents sitting and talking on the grass.

That afternoon, the park was just a bubble of normalcy. All around were the stark reminders of the fire that tore through Altadena — rows and rows of flattened and dusty lots, melted gates and charred trees.

About half of the dozen or so Altadenans who say they’ve been meeting here for the past eight years appeared from different corners of a large grass field at the park, empty save for a few signs that read: "This field is designated for baseball and softball only."

But this group of friends, including several dads, said since 2018, they’ve bonded playing soccer here.

“Finding these guys and this game is really what brought me into the Altadena community in a lot of ways,” said Graham Fortier.

“This is kind of my backyard. I came here with my son... They grew up here,” Patrick Connor recalled.

“It got me through a couple of hard times already, before the fire,” Mike Lazzareschi said.

All three and their families lost homes in the Eaton Fire.

Bryce Nicholson’s family’s home was spared. One of his children was just 2 months old when the family had to evacuate.

“There’s something kind of symbolic and hopeful about coming to your only park left and talking about where people are at with their rebuilds or what’s going on at the local school district,” he said. “Or just to make fart jokes.”

The group said they were excited to get back to their weekly tradition last summer, months after the fire was extinguished. But in December, they said an L.A. County sheriff’s deputy told them they couldn’t play soccer on the field anymore.

They were shocked.

‘I think it’s ridiculous’ 

Fortier said they feel like the goal posts have been moving on them as far as justification from L.A. County staffers goes. They said officials cited reasons including grass mutilation, needing a permit and that the use is ultimately up to the park director’s discretion.

“To tell us that we can’t play a game that we’ve been playing in eight years at our park — our only park that didn’t burn down — I think it’s ridiculous. And I’m gonna keep playing until they kick me off,” Fortier told LAist.

In a statement, L.A. County Parks said designated baseball fields are for the “exclusive use of baseball, softball, and youth sports. They are not soccer fields.”

In “the near future” the county said it will be able to offer a multi-use field at the nearby Charles White Park, where a variety of sports, including soccer, will be allowed.

“Our goal is not exclusion — it is stewardship and safety. We remain committed to working with all park users to ensure safe, fair, and sustainable access for everyone in our communities,” the statement added.

Joshua McGuffie, a longtime member of the soccer crew who grew up in Altadena and saw his parents’ home destroyed in the fire, said the county’s previous requests to obtain a permit and to stop playing with cleats were inappropriate.

“It feels like the county parks coming in and saying, like, ‘Look, A, You need to pay and, B, you need to play unsafely.’ It’s just mystifying to me,” McGuffie said.

He and other players feel the insurance and other costs associated with getting a permit are prohibitive and their informal group of far fewer than 25 players shouldn’t be required to do so.

The group said they have a meeting with Supervisor Kathryn Barger’s office next week to discuss their situation.

In the meantime, they’ve circulated an online petition that has over 1,100 signatures.

Healing through sports

Patrick Connor said it’s painful to be turned away. And he said he feels like it’s intervening in his healing, his recovery from the fire.

“People ask me: ‘How are you doing?’ I’m not doing that great,” Connor said. “I had, like, serious insomnia after the fire... And the thing that was really good for me was exercise and being with fire victims.”

Several in the soccer group were cited by an L.A. County sheriff's deputy on Sunday, March 15.

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Photo courtesy Graham Fortier

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Later that afternoon at Loma Alta, Bryce Nicholson said he and several others in the group were cited by the sheriff’s department for playing soccer on the field.

Nicholson said he’s digging his heels in because he wants a better explanation from the county.

“Because this is a good space for people that don’t often have many spaces, and a community that has been through so much,” Nicholson said. “Why can’t they just meet up at a park and play a game like they have for a long time?”

When someone goes through a mental health crisis, their loved ones are thrown into a maze of urgent, high-stakes decisions.

Where to get care? How to deal with insurance? When to call 911?

For those in L.A.’s large Chinese immigrant community with limited English, helping a loved one can be especially challenging and isolating.

Starting Monday, a new Mandarin-language family support group in the San Gabriel Valley aims to provide a much-needed resource, coordinated by the National Alliance on Mental Illness in L.A. County.

Monthly meetings will be at the Holiday Inn in El Monte, held at night to accommodate people’s work schedules, and open to anyone from the region.

“For recent immigrants, but also even long-term residents who just aren't comfortable communicating in English the way they are in their native language, it just made such sense for us to do it,” said Richard Tom, president of the San Gabriel Valley chapter of NAMI.

Years in the making, the support group happens to be rolling out at a time of heightened anxiety for immigrant communities amid the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown. Tom said providing support in Mandarin could help lower barriers for those who might hesitate to seek help.

“Obviously, right now, with immigration an issue, there is also a sensitivity to access in-language for folks who might otherwise be frightened of going to places where they're going to perhaps be misunderstood,” he said.

Removing stigma

Tom said the support group not only removes the language hurdles but also recognizes the cultural stigma many participants may be navigating.

“There’s sort of what you expect in a lot of cultures, which is sort of an embarrassment and shame associated with having someone who has a mental health issue,” Tom said.

Organizers say that despite L.A.’s large Chinese-speaking population, no consistent, in-language family support group has existed locally in recent years.

Seven facilitators were trained to lead a Chinese-language support group in the San Gabriel Valley.

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NAMI San Gabriel Valley

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One of the biggest obstacles has been finding Chinese-speaking family members and friends able to go through the two-day-long facilitator training and commit to leading the support group indefinitely — all the while caring for someone struggling with mental illness.

At the same time, the concept of peer support — turning to others with lived experience rather than professionals — is still unfamiliar in many Chinese immigrant communities, said Nancy Eng, a NAMI SGV board member.

But, “one of the reasons that the support group is so great is it gives a visual and also the sense when you're together in the room, the headaches that you’re dealing with — the exhaustion, the frustration — you're not alone,” Eng said.

Trying your best

The Chinese-language program is launching with seven facilitators, all of whom have personal experience supporting a loved one with mental illness.

Support groups can normalize the idea of seeking professional help, coordinators say, acting as a bridge to therapists or psychiatrists for both the person experiencing crisis, as well as for their loved ones.

Fellow members can also share their experiences with painful decisions such as seeking involuntary treatment or watching a loved one enter the criminal justice system.

In a support group, Tom said, families hear something they rarely hear elsewhere: that they are doing the best they can.

“There’s an element of validation that is very powerful for people,” he said.

Mary YanYan Chan, who is coordinating the Chinese language program, said her own experience in a support group has helped her deal with a sister with untreated bipolar disorder.

“I'm just kind of following the steps, and in the interim, I'm going to help others behind me, to bring them forward, because this is really community work,” Chan said.

A grant from Cedars-Sinai is helping to support the initial rollout through the summer. But organizers say its future will depend on participation and securing a long-term space, hopefully with a community organization.

Details

When: Mondays on a monthly basis, from 6:30 to 8 p.m.
Where: Holiday Inn, 9920 Valley Blvd., 1st floor, El Monte
Info: mchan@namiglac.org

Organizers behind the No Kings protests are forecasting their biggest showing yet on Saturday against the policies of President Trump, energized by issues including the administration's immigration enforcement tactics and the war in Iran.

"March 28 will be the biggest protest in US history," the group, which comprises a progressive coalition of activists, wrote on its website. "Find your local No Kings event to make it clear that America rejects the regime's brutality at home and abroad."

Organizers have planned more than 3,000 events in cities across the United States, with several more planned abroad, including in Mexico and Canada.

This is the third series of nationwide protests organized by the group, which says Trump's actions in office are more akin to those of a monarch than a democratically-elected leader.

In response to a request for comment about the planned protests, White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson dismissed them as "Trump Derangement Therapy Sessions" and listed what she said were some of the campaign's g "major leftist" financial backers.

"The only people who care about these Trump Derangement Therapy Sessions are the reporters who are paid to cover them, said White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson.

The last round of protests, this past October, saw some 5 million attendees spread across about 2,600 demonstrations in the country, according to No Kings.

Bill McKibben is the Vermont-based founder of Third Act — a No Kings-affiliated group comprising people who are 60 years old and up.

He says intergenerational solidarity is a key part of the movement and that there are many older people willing to take to the streets alongside their younger compatriots.

"If you've been to any of the No Kings protests that have happened so far, you'll see a lot of people with hairlines like mine, which is to say, scant," he joked.

"People of all kinds are outraged by what's happening in the country right now, but older people have a particular role to play here."

He says that for older Americans, who have lived through several presidencies, describe the current one as the closest the country has come to authoritarian rule.

"This is a very weird moment in our political history," he said. "Look, there have been plenty of presidents in my lifetime I didn't much like or didn't agree with politically, but there's never been any that I thought were fascist, and I think that that's very clear what we're now starting to deal with in this country."

President Trump has said repeatedly that he's not a fascist or a king and has previously scorned the protests.

"I think it's a joke," he said last year of the October demonstrations. "I looked at the people. They're not representative of this country."

He simultaneously leaned into the royal comparisons, even while mocking critics, posting an AI-generated video of himself wearing a crown.

Visibility Brigade leader Dana Glazer, who is based in the New Jersey suburbs, similarly likened Trump's politics to fascism, which he said thrives when people are isolated from their communities.

Coming together in protest, he said, helps combat that social seclusion. Glazer and other members of his group plan to protest Saturday in Paramus, where the organization was founded.

"We are a force of treating people with individual human dignity and respect, and connection," he said. "And that's what brings us together. That's why this kind of event is powerful, is that people suddenly go, 'Oh wow, we have some power.' "

He said he hopes that people will see events like No Kings and be inspired to peacefully protest even when there aren't huge events planned.

"The reason why we're in this mess is because there has been a lack of civic engagement overall because people have been trained that just by nature of voting every two to four years that they're doing their civic duty," he said.

"We're obviously in a state of crisis right now, but we're in that state of crisis because of this."
Copyright 2026 NPR

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Imagine MacArthur Park without a road running through the middle. That’s what most residents who live around the park say they want.

This is according to preliminary findings from the Reconnecting MacArthur Park project, an effort studying whether the busy roadway between Alvarado Street and Carondelet Street should be closed off permanently. Under this proposal, the park’s north and south sides would be rejoined to form one large green space.

The idea is to turn the major traffic corridor into usable park space in one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in Los Angeles.

Maria Ortiz, 59, who has lived near MacArthur Park for 30 years, welcomes closing off Wilshire, if it improves the area for families like hers. She is a grandmother to three granddaughters.

“Hopefully they can close it so there’s more space for kids to play, more surveillance and fewer homeless people,” Ortiz said. “Right now, the traffic is also bad, it gets really congested. People also don’t respect when the buses are coming.”

For her, the park is important because it’s the only one she has close by. But she added that changes should go beyond closing the road. 

She remembers a different MacArthur Park when she was raising her children, one that felt more welcoming for families.

“There were a lot more events at MacArthur Park before, there were contests, they would give gifts to kids,” she said. 

She joined her neighbors to participate in a public forum to explore the proposal.

The Central City Neighborhood Partners surveyed more than 1,500 people from August to December and asked them to weigh in on five possible options:

• Remove Wilshire entirely through the park and expand green space
  
• Remove Wilshire entirely and keep the short block between Park View Street and Carondelet Street open to cars
  
• Close Wilshire to all cars and turn it into a public space
  
• Close Wilshire only on weekends
  
• Allow only buses through Wilshire Boulevard

More than six in 10 survey respondents supported removing Wilshire and reconnecting the park. Keeping things as they are drew the least support.

The project now moves into the next phase, where the five concepts will go through an environmental review. The city and project partners will also develop design concepts and estimate costs to build.

At this juncture, there is no available funding for any construction.

“What we’ve been able to hear from the community was really that everyone wants to see a change in MacArthur Park,” said Diana Alfaro, associate executive director of Central City Neighborhood Partners. 

“Everyone in this community is excited or wants to be able to see new amenities,” she said, including better lighting and park infrastructure. 

In a February interview, Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez said the neighborhood doesn’t have enough parks or green space, adding that MacArthur Park alone isn’t enough for a densely populated neighborhood like Westlake.

“And that’s why I’ve been moving with my team and pushing for reconnecting MacArthur Park and closing down Wilshire Boulevard in that area to begin to create more spaces, more pedestrianized spaces, more opportunities for green space,” she said. 

At the same time, the city is moving forward with a separate plan to install fencing around MacArthur Park. The plan would add a wrought-iron fence around both halves of the park.  

Officials say the fence will allow the park to close at night and give them time to clean the space overnight. Their goal is to address safety and quality-of-life concerns.

That fencing project is not part of the reconnection study, but Alfaro said it will affect it. According to a report of the survey findings, any redesign of the park will have to factor in where the fence goes, and whether parts of it would need to be removed or rebuilt if the park is eventually reconnected.

City officials have not decided which option, if any, will move forward.

“At the end of the day, there are a lot of changes coming to MacArthur Park,” Alfaro said, “and I think it testifies why there needs to be some more attention around reconnecting or really just adding more green space for the community.”

Alex Lacayo, 35, supports closing Wilshire if it helps improve conditions at the park.

The lifelong Westlake resident often feels the park is “dirty and filthy” when he passes through. 

“If there’s a way to make the park a better place for more people to come, then I feel like it’s a good project,” Lacayo said. “We get a lot of tourists, so improving the park I think will improve the image of Los Angeles.” 

Because of ongoing concerns around homelessness and drug activity, Lacayo often avoids walking through the park. But if conditions improve, he said that could change and he would visit more often.

Alfaro believes the fencing plan and the reconnection project are both responses to those same concerns.

“The purpose of it is to ensure that the park is being well kept and maintained,” she said of the fence.

“I think all of it kind of adds to the same reason why we are doing this project to begin with,” Alfaro added. “Which is to ensure that the park itself is a park that families could use, youth can use, seniors can use.”