A Drive Through Hell.


Yesterday, after eating lunch at Myung Dong Noodle House on Wilshire, we got into our car and drove south on Irolo St. and went east, along West 8th Street, for about two and a half miles.

Words cannot produce images that could equal the utter filthiness, horror, inhumanity and decay of the street. There were 10 foot high piles of garbage in alleys, people sleeping on sidewalks and bus benches. Shopping carts of trash in front of every store. Lost men and women, high, drunk, dirty, forgotten, mixed in with others who were not. And sidewalks full of new arrivals in the city, walking, working, eating; selling clothes on blankets or food from carts; pushing kids in strollers; striving to get by and survive in one of the most unpleasant and dystopian cities in the Western world.

As the road curved into the underpass that runs under the 110 freeway, dozens of people were living in encampments on each side of the street. A Ritz-Carlton luxury hotel glass tower loomed in the nearby downtown. Was this a joke?

It seemed that God had taken a leave of absence and left Satan in charge.

This is Los Angeles. This is California. This is the United States of America. In 2024.

What kind of government that is even half-awake, half-sentient and semi-moral allows an entire city to fall into a condition that might only exist in a place of war or extreme impoverishment?

There’s a baseline of governance. You keep the streets clean. You try and employ a sense of order and reason to public activities to ensure that life is reasonable, safe and decent.

You don’t allow chaos to reign knowing that revolution will surely follow.

In the depths of the Great Depression, in the 1930s, when 25% of this country was out of work, Los Angeles, west of downtown, the same place we drove in yesterday, looked like this:

Credit: USC Archives/ Dick Whittington Collection.

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