I used to drive down Fairfax to get to Headline Records (many years ago) and every time I would wonder about this part of town. I really had no idea what the neighborhood was like or what its history was when I went there this morning, and it was probably a little more exciting that way.
One of the first that struck me about the neighborhood was its mixed nature. For instance, I came across the Western Church of Los Angeles, which has a Korean congregation. I noticed a small plaque near the foundation, out-of-the-way, marking it as a former synagogue. One of the first shops you’ll see on the right hand side (if you’re coming from the south) is an Indian spices shop. As I had a preconceived notion that Little Ethiopia would be a solidly Ethiopian neighborhood, this was a little surprising.
First a note on timing: I got to the neighborhood in the morning, around 10:30. Most of the shops weren’t open yet, and it was a little hard finding people, actually. So I waited around for a while and watched traffic squeeze through on the two-lane street. For anyone interested, I’m told that the evening is the happening time to go.
One thing that struck is how people working in the businesses here seem to know each other quite well. The first person I talked to was Tony, who I met while he was squeegee-ing down the windows to a furniture store. Tony, who had been there for twenty years, spoke highly of the Ethiopians that worked and owned businesses in the area: “they’re good people,” he said. Almost immediately, he took me a couple of doors down to a hair salon, where a lady was sweeping down the sidewalk. This was Aster, who had been in Little Ethiopia for eleven years. According to her, Fekre was the guy I was looking for; he owned a restaurant called Rosalind’s, and had been there longer than anyone else. So I went searching for Fekre.
Unfortunately, I never found him, but I was able to speak to Pat at Hansen’s, a big bakery right across the street. Pat has quite a history in Little Ethiopia – he’s been working in the same place for thirty years, and his family has had a business presence on the block since the 1890s. Like Tony, he had very positive things to say the Ethiopian immigrants who opened businesses in that neighborhood. Their presence changed a dangerous neighborhood into one where people came from across the city to eat, to shop, and to hang out. He gestured to the bakery around him and said “this is possible because of them,” because they had changed the neighborhood in such a way that a retail business could succeed. Pat also had a very deep knowledge of the area’s history. He informed me that the area used to known as “Kosher Canyon,” due to the large Jewish community, but that many of the Jewish businesses left as crime got increasingly bad. Still, there were remnants of the old community; a thrift shop flying a large Israeli flag; a Jewish health care center; and at Olympic and Fairfax, a large Jewish school.
Of course, the area is known for its Ethiopian restaurants. At the restaurant Niyala, Emanuel and Rahel pointed out that it was common for the Ethiopian business owners to own multiple businesses: restaurants, auto body shops, bakeries, markets, and so on.
I also learned a good lesson, as far as being a journalist goes, and its about how I ask questions. I started off most of my conversations by saying “can I ask you a few questions about the neighborhood?” I got quite a few shrugs from most of the Ethiopian immigrants I talked to. At first I assumed this was because there is a tendency among immigrants to lay low, stay off the radar, minimize exposure (and I don’t mean that in a condescending way; I see the same tendency in my own father. For better or for worse, I think it’s a trait shared across all immigrant groups; its part of the survival mode we go into when we are put in unfamiliar circumstances). However, as I was talking to Emanuel and Rahel, it finally dawned on me that the majority of the Ethiopian immigrants that work in the Ethiopian restaurants don’t live in the neighborhood; they live deeper in L.A., or on the Westside, or to the south… Here I was, expecting that the reason that so many Ethiopian businesses existed on the same couple blocks was because the surrounding residential area was Ethiopian. The point being, because I didn’t do any kind of research before I went, I was asking everyone a stupid question; of course they’re not going to be able to tell me anything about the neighborhood – they don’t live in the area, they just work there during the day. So, I learned a valuable lesson: be sure to be asking the right questions.
In fact, the reason they are there is because one man, Fekre, had success in the area, and others followed and established businesses where there was an increasing flow of Ethiopian traffic. And from the looks of it, they have done quite well and established a well-known niche in the city.
If You're Lucky, You're Lucky Every Time 
