Altadena reopening reveals devastation — but community remains

As Jocelyn Boyd surveyed the charred ruins of Altadena’s old town, she was speechless in disbelief.

The public pool at Alta Park in Loma, once a summer refuge for her and other black residents, has been destroyed by the Eaton Fire.

Standing outside a nearby community garden, where plants were mostly untouched, she pulled out her phone and recorded a video of the seemingly random destruction.

Boyd returned to his childhood home on Tuesday, with authorities opening the burned area to the public for the first time since a mass evacuation on Jan. 7. National Guard soldiers with rifles checked the ID cards of passing motorists.

Boyd, 57, who was displaced from her current residence in Pasadena along with her pets, spent anxious days wondering if her home would still be there when she returned. Yes.

Whenever Altadena’s friends called to ask how she was doing, she felt a sense of survivor’s guilt, searching for the right words to express the relief she felt to those who had lost everything.

“Nothing will ever be the same again because many people will not be able to rebuild,” she said.

Boyd, who retired after owning a mobile dog grooming business, described how redlining and other discriminatory housing policies forced many black Altadena residents to move into homes west of Lake Avenue, a line that resembled a Mason-Dixon line, which separates west Altadena from the historically white, predominantly white east side of the city.

For her and others like her, the Loma Alta pool was a refuge from lingering racism and sweltering summers in the small town in the San Gabriel foothills.

Eaton fire victim Kara Marsh became emotional as she searched for valuables and memorabilia at her and her husband’s home on W. Marigold Street. The Marsh family plans to rebuild their home while living with friends.

In the 1980s and 1990s, gentrification drove black residents out of the area, with many moving further inland. Many of those who could afford to stay lived in extended family homes that had been passed down from generation to generation, some of which were razed by the Eaton Fire.

Some of Boyd’s friends are living in campers on the burned property and are worried about reports of “land grabbers” sniffing around the area. She said several people had received business cards from strangers asking if they were interested in selling their properties, and some had offered “good deals” on how to buy their homes.

Her message to those friends: “Stay strong. And don’t sell out.

Records reviewed by The Times show residents west of Lake did not receive evacuation warnings until hours after the Eaton fire. Driven by high winds, the fast-moving fire burned a large swath of western Altadena, ultimately destroying 7,000 structures and killing at least 17 people. Records show all of the victims lived west of the lake.

Although officials have reopened roads throughout the neighborhood, it remains a grim checkerboard of destroyed homes next to others that were largely untouched by the fire.

But amid the destruction, there are signs that recovery efforts are underway.

Utility crews were out all day trying to restore power. Meanwhile, neighbors and officials in Federal Emergency Management Agency jackets milled in and out of a nearby coffee shop, which had been offering free hot coffee on Friday.

Next door, volunteers handed out free meals to people lining up around an open space.

Eaton fire victim Jose Velasquez, left, hands a woman donated household items in front of his burned-out garage.

(Alan J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Randolph Ware, 39, was in his bedroom at his grandmother’s home on Glenrose Avenue on the night of the fire when choking smoke suddenly billowed out. After getting his grandma to safety, he and his uncle began watering the family’s yard and fence with a hose while chasing golf ball-sized embers that fell on their block.

When authorities turned off the water sometime during the night, he and his uncle ditched the hose and used shovels instead, mounding up dirt to put out the flames.

Ware said he refused to leave even as a Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department patrol drove by and used a bullhorn to order people to evacuate.

“I won’t let it burn,” he said. “I’m not trying to say I’m superhuman, but through the will of God I am.”

In recent days, other evacuated residents have begun returning to the area. Among them was Jose Velazquez, 30, who was tending to the makeshift shelter outside his mother-in-law’s home at the corner of Woodbury Road and Glenrose Avenue.

The station sprang up last week, and volunteers have been working for days sorting donations of clothing, disposable wipes, toys, diapers, canned goods and fresh produce that have been pouring in from as far away as San Francisco.

Ruiz Linares of the American Guardians Del Muro volunteer group stood in the center, waving a homemade sign he wrote in charcoal. A large donation and feeding center has emerged for Eaton Fire victims to return home to Altadena.

“There was a lady who drove a U-haul full of supplies and dropped them here,” he said, adding that many of the donated items were for people who still don’t have gas or electricity in their homes. “Everyone is eating instant noodles now.”

Velasquez said his family’s home was largely spared while others, including his next-door neighbor’s, were completely damaged, so he felt compelled to help. He was also looking for a way to give back to his neighbors who had been loyal customers for years at the churro stand his family ran in their driveway. He said nearly 40 of his regular customers lost their homes.

Velazquez’s 64-year-old uncle, Jose Medina, was at home the night of the fire. He remembered hearing a loud bang, and later realized that a gust of wind had blown part of the roof off the house.

“I thought the space shuttle was crashing into Earth,” he said.

He ran outside and spotted an ominous red light on the distant slopes of Eaton Canyon. Less than 20 minutes later, he said, the fire broke out across from the house where he and his sister had lived for 40 years.

Eaton Fire victims Liz Oh and Ray Ahn sift through the rubble on W. Marigold Street in Altadena. They stayed in a hotel with their children while waiting for insurance information from the California FAIR Plan.

Medina said that as the fire got closer, he climbed onto the roof and began hosing down his own and his neighbor’s yards to try to stop the fire from spreading. He watched helplessly as strong winds carried embers across Woodbury Road, igniting a row of palm trees in his neighbor’s backyard.

Miraculously, his sister’s house survived, but the fire destroyed the garage where Medina slept and the tools he used while working as an independent contractor. Days later, Medina searched the burned-out garage for his angle saw and stepladder, but they were destroyed. He managed to salvage some shovels and drill bits from the ash heap.

On Tuesday, he was working at an aid station along with volunteers such as Yolanda Barra, 30, a member of Minsterio Cordero, a church in South Central Los Angeles that drove up to distribute pre-packaged bags to residents. Packaged meals. Barra thanked the church for providing her with a lifeline as she overcame substance abuse issues and said she saw this as her opportunity to give back.

“You know, everyone is struggling, but this is a time when we need to come together and help each other,” she said.

Times staff photographer Allen J. Schaben contributed to this report.