Troy Isaac, homeless advocate ... OCMA's PST entry: SoCal's conceptual art hotbed ... EatLA and the death of restaurants ... Coachella expands to two weekends ...
Dodger Clayton Kershaw and wife Ellen help African orphans; new book "Arise" tells their story
UPDATE 10/9/2013: This seems a pretty good time to bring back a story from 2012 that reminds us that not only is Clayton Kershaw a preternatural pitcher, but he seems to be a hell of a guy with his priorities straight. -- John Rabe
This guy is only 23?
At a news conference at Dodger Stadium this morning, somebody asked why Clayton Kershaw has made repeated trips to Africa with his wife Ellen, to help orphans there.
The Cy Young Award winner replied, in full earnest, ‘Ellen always asked me, “What do you want your legacy to be when you’re done playing baseball?”’ There are always going to be people better than you, he said, who will break your records, “So you want to be remembered for doing something other than baseball.”
The two work through the Dallas-based non-profit Arise Africa, and are building housing for orphans. The details are in their new book “Arise: Live Out Your Faith and Dreams on Whatever Field You Find Yourself.”
Ellen Kershaw , 24, has been going to Zambia since she was 18. She felt drawn to, she says, in the 8th grade, after seeing a tv show. But she didn’t think she could do any good. “There’s plenty of people who spend their entire lives trying to change that country, and what could I do as an 18-year old?! But finally, it almost caused me more anxiety not going than actually getting on a plane and going over there.”
It took her husband a little longer. But he’s made two trips with her now, the first right after their marriage -- they were high school sweethearts – and it’s changed him for the good. “Going to Zambia last year I think was a huge leap of faith for him, and it stretched him in more ways than I’ve ever seen.”
Speaking of stretching, Ellen says the kids hang off the 6-3 pitcher “like he’s a jungle gym.” They know nothing about baseball, the Dodgers, or the Cy Young. “If I played soccer,” he joked, “that would be a different story.”
It might seem counter-intuitive, in a sport like baseball where concentration and total devotion are key, but Clayon and Ellen both say their Africa project, and Kershaw’s challenge, in which he donated $100 for every batter he struck out, made him a better pitcher, because the goal was bigger than baseball.
The two speak easily about serving their God, but they don’t present as evangelical. He was raised Methodist, she Presbyterian. Not the rivival tent types. This seems to be more about what they say it is: giving back, doing what they can. As Ellen says, “To whom much is given, much is expected.”
If we want a power couple running the Dodgers, somebody ought to give the Dodgers to these two.
Watch the Kershaws talk about Africa in this YouTube video:
Helping the homeless any way he can
It's about 7:30 on a cold Monday morning in West Adams. After taking his dog, a shih-tzu named Smoothie out for a walk, Troy Isaac is out the door and off to work.
"We're going downtown Los Angeles," he said. "Cause I need to go on Broadway to see a person--I don't like calling them clients--but he's a friend, Eddie Jones, he's homeless. And he usually takes care of a jewelry store. He sleeps in front of the jewelry story on Broadway and the jewelry people give him like two to three dollars to sleep in front of them every night."
Today might be the day Jones moves off the streets into a place of his own, and Troy could not be more excited. Troy calls himself a field advocate — armed with a backpack, a pack of cigarettes and a credit card paid for by a prominent Mid-Wilshire philanthropist, he walks Los Angeles seeking out and helping people who might otherwise go ignored: a woman passed out against a wall, a man screaming to himself, a couple sleeping under a tarp.
Literally, anyone: a trip down two city blocks can take a 45 minutes if he runs into enough people. He hands out his number constantly, and he never ignores a call.
He's imposing: six foot five inches tall--often wearing a black trench coat, combat boots and a mohawk... And on any given day, Troy could be anywhere: the Sunset Strip, Skid Row, Crenshaw, the Miracle Mile, or like on this morning--Downtown's jewelry district.
He's just getting off the bus at Seventh and Olive when Troy notices a woman nearby. She's covered in blankets, resting with her head on her knees. When Troy approaches her, she gives her name only as Smith. After a little coaxing, Smith admits she's hungry, and she'll take anything to eat. "Some coffee with it?" Smith adds.
"Sure," says Troy.
Troy says he does this because he loves people. "And I don't think I would be happy if I didn't help."
He walks into a 7 Eleven across the street, buys a sandwich and a coffee and brings it back. In the course of this 10 minute interaction Smith's demeanor has gone from suspicious and guarded to pretty warm, thanking Troy and laughing as he leaves.
Troy does this kind of thing all the time: whenever he encounters a homeless person he'll strike up a conversation, offer them a cigarette, say he or she looks really nice, then ask how he can help. Troy says his inspiration to do all this comes from an unlikely source. "It's thanks to Oprah that I've made myself who I am today," he says.
"And there are times that I channel myself ever since I’ve been out---there are times that I sound like Oprah, when I’m giving things away."
He says one of the most important parts in all this is to avoid expectations. "I meet people where they're at," he says.
"So if they just want a sing a song, we just sing a song. If they just want to hang out and talk about something only they can understand, I'm fine with it."
After asking around for a while, Isaacs finds his friend Eddie Jones, he's just off Broadway. Jones runs a shoe shining business by day. Troy approaches Jones' shoe shine cart, cheerily greeting him. "I would like to see if SRO down the street has a bed," says Troy. "If they have a bed, would you like to go there today?"
"A bed in a shelter?" Jones asks.
"No," says Troy. "A bed by yourself, in your own room!"
Jones delights at the possibility. Troy gets on the phone and starts calling around. Jones says he's been on the street since he lost his job shining shoes at the Bonaventure Hotel. Housing someone like Jones is difficult work: he says he avoids most shelters after a few bad experiences there. And because his shoe shining business is based downtown, he wants to stay local. Troy has been trying to find a place for Jones for some time.
Hanging up the phone, it's apparent that today is Jones' day. There's no bed space for Jones, but Troy promises to follow up every day. "I appreciate you doing this," says Jones.
"You know that I've been trying!" Troy replies.
And with that, Troy moves on--he has a meeting on Skid Row. He talks with everyone he sees on the way. He’s been doing that for three years, helping everyone he can find. And there’s no sign he’s slowing down.
How did homeless advocate Troy Isaac become who he is today?
Troy Erik Isaac is a homeless advocate who travels all over Los Angeles by foot helping any person he meets—he almost never ignores a phone call. But maybe even more compelling is his long, sometimes troubled history.
Troy Isaac was born in Houston. He grew up in an unstable home and moved to Burbank when he was 12. Not long after, he had his first run in with the law:
“I did not have a gun, I had my hand under my shirt,” said Isaac, describing an attempted stick-up robbery he committed.
“I went to like a parking lot and I wanted the lady to give me her money," said Isaac. "And she says 'I don’t have money, but I have makeup.' And I says 'I don’t care, give me that!'"
He said the woman called the police, and he was arrested not long after. He was given a few months inside Juvenile Hall, but it was the first offense of many, and started Isaac down a long, difficult road in the prison system. For Isaac, it meant being repeatedly raped.
“When you walk in effeminate, and [inmates] see a piece of meat," he said. "They demand oral copulation from you in showers, or they gang up on you in a mop closet—you know… you have to learn how to defend yourself. At a young age. I would cut up my wrists, I would say that I was suicidal, just to be moved out of those threatening situations.”
For the better part of his young adult life, he’d find himself in and out of detention centers, prisons, jails. In total, he spent 24 years behind bars: he was raped by inmates, and says he was beaten by guards. He did time for vandalism, shoplifting, assault. His last offense, Isaac was caught impersonating Ru Paul.
"I went around town, limousines, hotels, best food, best outfits, all on Ru Paul’s name," said Troy. "And we had a public trial, and Ru Paul showed up, and Ru Paul wanted me to get 15 years. The judge gave me eight. And eight years was enough time to get my life together to figure out who I was, and the rest is history. “
The trauma he went through in prison eventually put him in touch with more people on the outside. He started mailing back and forth with a group called Just Detention International—or JDI—one of the few organizations devoted to stopping prison rape. Lovisa Stanow, the organization’s executive director, remembers when she first encountered Isaac:
“I have really, at a more personal level, been so gratified just seeing Troy evolve in a way, from the first time he unannounced came by the office and introduced himself. And we realized that this is, in fact, Troy, who we had corresponded with for years, while he was incarcerated. He had now been released and he basically showed up at JDI’s offices, saying, “Now I’d like to help you. What can I do?”
Isaac is now a member of the organization’s survivor council, and he’s travelled to Washington DC to speak with members of Congress on the topic. Here he is in a video for the organization:
As of today, it’s been 11 years since he’s been arrested—that’s a record for him. And now, as a field advocate for the homeless, he works closely with LAPD. His work with JDI gave him a place to go when he got out of prison. But possibly more than anything he credits his new direction to one person.
“I’ve always been a fan of Oprah. Because she was my mother in prison," said Isaac. "I would watch her everyday, if I got a TV. And she’s so inspirational and she got me into journal writing. And there are things that she said that did NOT work out for me. Like pilates, yoga, it did not work out for me, but I tried them. And there are times that I channel myself ever since I’ve been out---there are times that I sound like Oprah, when I’m giving things away.”
And unlike Oprah, he can’t give away new cars, but thanks to the support of a Mid-Wilshire philanthropist, he can give meals, cigarettes and even a home to people in need.
Pacific Standard Time: Conceptual art at OCMA
Conceptual art is as much, or more, about the process of experiencing (making, looking at, thinking about, documenting) art as the art object itself. And SoCal, not weighed down by the strictures and structures of the art establishment, was a hotbed of conceptual art. It's the focus of the Orange County Museum of Art's Pacific Standard Time entry, State of Mind: New California Art Circa 1970. Off-Ramp host John Rabe talked with artist Al Ruppersberg, a surprise guest, and OCMA's co-curator, Karen Moss. (The exhibit closes January 22d, so go see it now!)
Eat LA: RIP Angeli Caffe & Drago Santa Monica, but hello Cafe Livre
Eat:LA's Colleen Bates talks with Evan Kleiman and Jonathan Gold about the death of groundbreaking LA restaurant Angeli Caffe. Colleen and Jonathan also consider the closing of the Drago flagship and Pasadena's Michelin-starred Trez Venizie. Plus, Off-Ramp host John Rabe goes to Culver City to check out Farid Zadi's new bistro, Cafe Livre.
CyberFrequencies dishes the SOPA
CyberFrequencies hosts Queena Kim and Tanya Jo Miller talk about the Stop Online piracy Act with Marketplace Money senior producer Paddy Hirsch.
More photos by outsider icon Vivian Maier come to LA gallery
UPDATE 12/26/2013: Merry Karnowsky Gallery is bringing in new Vivian Maier prints from the Maloof Collection for an exhibit that runs through Jan. 25. On Jan. 11, for one of the first times ever, one of Vivian Maier's home movies will be shown in public, projected onto an exterior wall next to the gallery.
Vivian Maier (1926-2009) was a nanny for most of her life in Chicago. But on her time off, she took pictures. Of everything. John Maloof stumbled across her work at auction, and now owns 100,000 negatives taken over decades by Maier, who has become one of the world's biggest art stories. Merry Karnowsky Gallery, with support from actor Tim Roth, is hosting LA's biggest showing of Maier's photos. Off-Ramp host John Rabe spoke with Maloof about Vivian Maier, and spoke with her many fans - including director Wim Wenders - at a preview of the exhibit.
Maier is considered an "outsider artist." That can mean the artist is mentally disturbed, like Henry Darger, or it can mean that they're simply not accepted by the mainstream art world, like Simon Rodia, creator of the Watts Towers.
In Maier's case, it doesn't seem like she ever tried to get acceptance for her art, which was street photography. Instead, she traveled the world, then worked as a domestic, all the while amassing roomfuls of negatives. John Maloof, who discovered her work when he was looking for photos to illustrate a local history book, says maybe she wasn't secure enough in her work - like so many artists - to subject it to public or critical scrutiny.
Her work can stand the strain. Maier's photos have now been shown and printed in the U.S. and Europe, and are gathered in the book, "Vivian Maier: Street Photographer." The book is good, but can't match seeing more than 100 full-size prints at Karnowsky's gallery. They give you a sense of Maier's biggest gift, her acceptance by her subjects. At a preview for the exhibit, director Wim Wenders, who calls them "gorgeous," told us Maier has a loving eye. "She loves people, you sense that."
Scott Hicks, director of "Shine" and "Snow Falling on Cedars," was buying a copy of Maier's book for his production designer, and finds it hard to believe a "nanny on her time off" had such an educated eye. "It's a feast," he says. He says he does have a certain amount of ambivalence about someone making money from Maier's work after her death.
In our Off-Ramp interview, Maloof says he he's not "making money," that he's spent $200,000 in scanning, archiving, and printing so far, costs that haven't been recouped. He says he feels a little guilty that he's selling prints, "knowing she could have some level of success while she was alive." But, he says, "What do you want me to do? I could just leave it in my basement and let it collect dust? I could do nothing, or get money to get this out there."
Looking at Maier's work, it's hard to argue that it shouldn't be accessible, and it's tantalizing to fantasize about what's on the 90,000+ negatives Maloof hasn't even looked at yet.
"Vivian Maier - A Life Discovered," is at Merry Karnowsky Gallery through January 28, at 170 S. LaBrea Ave, LA CA 90036.
World War One history lesson in an 18-wheeler
Out of 65-million participants in World War 1, there's one left, a 110-year old British woman who was a waitress in the Women's RAF. That means almost nobody's s left to relate firsthand the war that waged from 1914 to 1918, killed millions of soldiers, redrew the map of Europe, and contributed to the start of World War 2. A traveling exhibit might be the next best thing, and is on its way to Southern California. It's a specially outfitted 18-wheeler that's in the midst of a national tour, which locally starts at the Lyon Air Museum in Santa Ana on January 21st before hitting 8 other cities, including Palm Springs, Long Beach, Riverside, and Pasadena. Off-Ramp host John Rabe spoke with Daralee Barbera, event organizer.
The traveling World War One museum is supported by Waddell & Reed, the mutual fund company. The two founders of Waddell & Reed, Chauncey Waddell and Cameron Reed, were veterans of World War I. Daralee Barbera is managing principal at the company.
Traveling World War I exhibit schedule:
Jan 21: Lyon Air Museum, 19300 Ike Jones Road, Santa Ana, CA 92707 (on the west side of John Wayne Airport, at the end of Baker St.)
Jan 25: Palm Springs at the Palm Springs Air Museum
Jan 28: Long Beach at The Queen Mary
Feb 2: Pasadena at Pasadena City Hall
Feb 4: Riverside at March Field Museum
LA's Mann Bros - Thomas and Heinrich
Off-Ramp Literary Commentator Marc Haefele tells about two Mann's who lived in LA: the famous Thomas Mann (left), and his better angel and brother, Heinrich.
Fighting bullying with jiu-jitsu in East Pasadena
Off-Ramp host John Rabe visits Gracie Barra, a jiu-jitsu center in East Pasadena that teaches kids self-defense skills, but – more importantly – teaches them self-respect.
Cactus County Cowboys exclusive Off-Ramp performance
Will Ryan, leader of the Cactus County Cowboys, calls their brand of music "Cowboy Skiffle." They entertained Mickey Rooney, Margaret O'Brien, Rose Marie, and the rest of the crowd at the Southern California Motion Picture Council's annual holiday banquet, but Off-Ramp host John Rabe got a special preview as they were warming up. In this iteration, Ryan -- the voice of Tigger for 16 years -- is joined by Westy Westenhofer, John "Presto" Reynolds, "Chaparall Katie" Cavera, "Buckaroo Benny" Brydern, and "Cactus Chloe" Feoranzo.