Deep Water Watts Floods By Annette Stark


Deep Water
The federal government refused to provide aid after the massive November floods in South L.A. But Sw
By Annette Stark
Jeanette Gilliam videotaped the worst storm in 100 years from the balcony of her Watts apartment. Her tape, made November 12, mostly features rushing water seven feet deep, a river crashing down the streets.
"Our underground garage flooded to the ceiling, and every car on the block was submerged," recalls the mother of two young children. "It took three days just to get the water out."
Five inches of hail and rain fell in less than two hours, causing flash floods everywhere in this community. Sewers overflowed; rats, decayed carcasses, and garbage washed into people's homes. When it was over, thousands realized they'd been hit and hit bad. Nine schools and businesses were severely damaged, and many had lost everything: mattresses, clothing, schoolbooks, their cars, and even refrigerators filled with food.
On November 18, then-Gov. Gray Davis declared a state of emergency for the flooded areas - including Watts, South Gate, and Compton. It was one of his last acts as governor. The following day, Davis was out. Federal agencies then refused to act, saying the damage wasn't bad enough to warrant the Federal Emergency Management Administration (FEMA) stepping in. Besides, only President Bush can declare a federal emergency, which he hasn't.
"A state-of-emergency declaration by the governor provides for response costs and immediate relief like debris removal," says Greg Renick, information spokesperson for the Office of Emergency Services (OES), which is temporarily located with the FEMA offices to help victims of the recent Southern California fires. "It does not necessarily translate into homeowner assistance. Usually, when an area isn't declared a major disaster, the Small Business Administration comes in for that. In this case, they conducted a survey and supplied us with the information, which indicates many homes with minor damage but nothing major."
The day after the flood, the fire department shut off the power in Gilliam's 90-unit complex. Most of her neighbors went to local motels or the temporary Red Cross shelter at Locke High School in Watts. Gilliam stayed with friends for a few days, but then realized it was too far to take her daughter to school. Right now - three weeks later - the electricity is still out, and the cavernous underground garage stinks like a tomb. For heat, Gilliam uses the gas jets on the stove.
"I'm feeding my family piece by piece," she shrugs, indicating she has no fridge. "What I don't use has to be thrown out. You can't give kids sour milk." According to Watts Neighborhood Council Chairman Quentin Drew, the damage to this building's electrical wiring is so extensive, it's unclear when the power will be restored. Judging from the lineup of cars on the street, blanketed with crusty mud and parking tickets, most people here haven't returned home.
Toy Trouble
In her offices on Lou Dillon Street, renowned Watts activist Sweet Alice Harris spends nights sleeping on the sofa and days worrying about replacing lost toys. For the past 18 years, Harris has distributed Christmas gifts to children through the organization she founded in the '60s, Parents of Watts. This year, everything - almost a thousand toys - was destroyed when her house flooded floor to ceiling.
"I need to get scooters, Barbie dolls, books for children of all ages, basketballs, soccer balls, footballs, but most of all I need money for clothes, blankets," she says.
While the floods ravaged her house, Harris (you can call her Sweet Alice) just sat and waited in her bedroom. "You couldn't come out, and you couldn't have the TV on," she explains. "Because when God is working, you have to be still." Though she's soft-spoken and always smiling, this self-proclaimed "Messenger of Hope" admits she's stressed about the lack of emergency assistance. "People are sleeping in their cars," she says, explaining that the Red Cross showed up at the beginning and handed out $50 vouchers. "It was sort of a slap in the face."
The day after Davis left office, the Red Cross closed the Locke High School shelter, advising anyone who still has disaster needs to call the Red Cross hotline. I called it. It says, "Our program for providing flood disaster relief has now ended," and gives you a few other numbers to call. The only thing missing was "Have a nice day."
Renick from the OES admits he didn't go out there. "I can only go by what I was told. If someone has need, they should contact Emergency Network Los Angeles or the Red Cross."
Over at the Small Business Administration, Rick Jenkins admits he didn't visit the area, either. "The survey we conducted was informal," he says, indicating that he doesn't have the exact figures but the damage fell short of meeting the SBA's criteria. "There has to be at least 25 homes or businesses that sustained damage equal to 40 percent of the fair market value. We did not identify anything that major in the survey. The sad thing is that, just because a disaster doesn't meet our criteria, people have still sustained losses. And that's unfortunate."
No Cushion
One could argue that damage to a community is relative. Two houses wiped out in Beverly Hills could easily result in $20 million in damages, but, while the occurrence might be equally traumatic for homeowners, at least they could scrape up the resources to rent cars and maybe a nice hotel suite while they waited for insurance to kick in. South L.A. residents live without any such cushion.
In her efforts to secure federal aid, Los Angeles Councilwoman Janice Hahn argued that losing the basics - food, mattresses, and clothing - is potentially catastrophic to residents of Watts and Compton. It didn't work. Like Davis's state of emergency, Hahn's request for federal help was a bust. "And we had strong federal advocates like [Congresswoman] Maxine Waters, but we knew we wouldn't make the grade at FEMA," she says.
Hahn and her brother, Mayor Jim Hahn, have established a nonprofit fund specifically for home repair. The fund will be managed by Los Angeles Neighborhood Housing Services (LANHS), which specializes in neighborhood-housing issues. "And they're going to meet with each family," she says. "They've been meeting with people since last week."
So far, BNSF Railroad gave a $6,000 check to the fund, and the United Teachers of Los Angeles and the California Teachers Association each donated $2,500 checks, encouraging corporations and labor unions to follow. Hahn has also pledged $50,000 from her discretionary funds. "The state was going to give people loans that they have to pay back with interest," she indicates. "But you'd have to qualify, and some people might have a difficult time because maybe their credit rating isn't as stellar as it needs to be. I'm always concerned about that."
Sweet Alice Harris is also concerned. She worries about senior citizens and others on fixed incomes having to take out loans to repair their homes. "Even with low interest, if you miss your payments, you can lose your house."
Watts Council Chairman Drew shakes his head. "We all want to live in a democratic society, where everybody is just as important. But the fact is, everyone isn't as important. Our system just doesn't work for poor people." "That's a fact," Harris agrees. She would know, living and working in Watts for 42 years. But right now, she's still got parties to plan and a thousand toys to find. And she has a few special Christmas requests. "One child was in here this morning," Harris says, "She's 13 and having problems in school. She said all she wanted was Nike tennis shoes. I told her if she promised to work with me and not be bad in school, she'd get them. See, these are the kind of promises you make in this community that you absolutely have to keep."
Published: 12/04/2003

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