Where The Grass Isn’t Always Greener

One of Joe Linton’s earliest formative memories involved a river and a bike. 

“I used to bike along the Santa Ana River to get to the beach. It took an hour, and it was one of the most freeing things as a young preteen since I didn’t have to beg my mom to take me. I could just head out with my brother or a friend.”  

Ever since discovering the freedom of cycling transportation, Joe and his bike have been inseparable. If Joe’s around, there’s bound to be a bike somewhere nearby. 

After moving to Los Angeles for college and settling into the sprawl of the city, Joe’s affinity for rivers began to evolve.

“I started riding my bike and taking transit along the LA River to get to work in Long Beach. Back then, I didn’t know it was called the LA River.” 

With the river always nearby, Joe began to observe its multifaceted nature, serving varied purposes to many people, acting as more than just a body of water. For some it’s a means of transportation, for others it’s a habitat and home, while some see in it the possibility of green spaces in otherwise park-poor neighborhoods. All of these hopes are encapsulated in the concrete channels of the LA River.  

“I think the river ultimately appeals to me. It’s a bicycle issue, and it’s an environmental issue, but it’s a lot about connecting with where you are, what the history of that space is, and how it became the way it is. I like learning the history of LA, its neighborhoods, and its people through a lens of the river, how it shaped development, gentrification, disasters, and ultimately access to park space.” 

From 2002 to 2004, Joe’s interest in river related issues, especially the possibility of its revitalization, led him to work for Los Angeles City Council member Ed P. Reyes—who at the time represented the First District. Encompassing much of Northeast LA, this district was majority Latino, working-class, and park-poor, and in heavy need of increased access to green spaces. The section of the river that flowed through this district, known as the Glendale Narrows, was unique in that it was soft-bottomed. The water table was too high and pushed against the concrete encasement allowing for vegetation, trees, animals and birds to create habitat. This unique environment attracted the attention of environmentalists, politicians, and park agencies who sought to bring more green spaces to this area of the city. 

“A lot of long-term Elysian Valley residents saw the river as a way to increase park space and bring in resources that they were lacking. At the time, there were more folks in the neighborhood saying “We don’t have green space, we don’t have soccer fields, we don’t have a library; we are an underserved neighborhood and don’t have what rich neighborhoods have.” 

Drawing inspiration from nearby projects such as the Cornfields, derelict lands that would become the currently beloved LA State Historic Park, the city’s interest was directed toward how to raise funds for these green space projects. Joe remembers the network of bureaucracy and funding opportunities that the council office and the city had to navigate when thinking about how to pay for and plan these park lands. 

“How do we tap into public funds, state funds, to green and give features that we lack to our neighborhood, to our residents, to the people living here?

There are all these sorts of single purpose bureaucracies, and the river has always been a complicated place, whether for transportation or food or flooding. It was never a single purpose thing, and it still isn’t—every bureaucracy that tells you otherwise is wrong.”

A multifaceted solution was needed for such a complex problem. As a result of successful organizing by community non-profits, youth groups, churches, and other residents, California State Parks acquired land at Taylor Yards, a former freight and rail yard, opening Rio de Los Angeles State Park to the public in 2007. Since then, it’s been managed jointly by State Parks and the City of Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks , functioning as a community gathering space, hosting soccer fields, and basketball and tennis courts, along with nature walking trails. 

In hindsight, increasing green spaces in communities that lacked them was rarely thought of as a negative. Joe remembers some skepticism from longtime residents in Elysian Valley and other Northeast LA neighborhoods, but the majority were on board and supportive of park projects like that at Rio. 

For residents who had lived through decades of neglect and disinvestment from the city, the possibility of a new park was exciting. The park might be the first step in acquiring other investments and services that richer neighborhoods took for granted, such as a library, grocery stores, and adequate street maintenance. At the time, few residents imagined the gentrification that is now nearly ubiquitous along the river and surrounding communities

“It was hard to imagine the level of gentrification that I see today in Frogtown. This was very much a Latino and Asian multi-generational neighborhood, all very working-class and industrial. There were a lot of homeowners who have lived here for 50-plus years, who probably wouldn’t be able to afford home ownership today. Gentrification spiraled out of control.”

A combination of factors and forces has led to the gentrification that is ever-present in Northeast LA and other historically working-class neighborhoods in the city. Communities that have been neglected and disinvested become easy targets for developers to swoop up properties for cheap and flip them for profit, attracting wealthier residents. 

The river parks and trails that were supposed to serve residents who lacked them are now serving those who just moved into the neighborhood, attracting wealthier residents who are able to afford the higher rents and enjoy the park spaces, libraries, chic cafes, and upscale restaurants, while the residents who lived through the years of disenfranchisement are priced out and forced to move farther and farther away from their communities, families, and livelihoods. 

As fears of gentrification have become a reality, Joe has noticed that many residents in working-class neighborhoods have resisted any type of infrastructure improvements or beautification. 

The prevailing sentiment is: “Don’t make my community better because you’ll force me to leave my community.” The question becomes: “How do you meet the needs of those folks living in those communities? How do you improve the quality of life for them without displacing them?”

These are questions that Joe considers daily, as he works to find the solution for equitable development for residents to be able to enjoy and thrive where they are, in neighborhoods that have served as the backdrop of their life stories. The answers to these questions are not simple, but Joe finds inspiration in a landscape that has taught him much about flexibility and complexity.

“You can love and hate LA at the same time. You can love the LA River and still work toward making it a better, healthier, more community-serving thing. I love sitting, listening, and spotting fish and bringing my daughter there and taking our shoes off and walking around.

I love what the river is, but I still want it to be a place that better serves humans and nature and respects the natural history, immigration history, and conquest and resistance history that LA represents—and the decisions that formed LA as it is.”

Joe Linton is a longtime urban environmental activist. His main areas of interest have been restoring the Los Angeles River and fostering bicycling for everyday transportation. He’s worked for many Los Angeles livability non-profits, including Friends of the L.A. River, Los Angeles County Bicycle Coalition, C.I.C.L.E., Livable Places, and CicLAvia. He also served as deputy to Los Angeles City Councilmember Ed Reyes.