LIVING AMID THE BLIGHT : Neighbors Fume Over Litter in Alleys and Vacant Lots, But Officials Say Budget Cuts and Regulations Prevent Speedy Cleanup of Illegal Dump Sites

By DUKE HELFAND

Dec. 6, 1992 12 AM PT

SPECIAL TO THE TIMES

Rabbit-size rats from the dump next to Frank Martinez’s trailer have chewed holes through his bedroom floor.

Martinez’s neighbor, Celes Marsh, worries that her home will be burglarized again by transients who sleep on dilapidated sofas at the dump, a vacant lot amid single-family homes north of the Jordan Downs housing project in Watts.

The two have repeatedly asked the city and county for help. But after months of complaints, the lot remains a festering heap of soiled diapers, rotting fruit, wet mattresses, oil cans and flies. Authorities say they are aware of the problem but have been unable to get the absentee landlord to clean the property.

“It’s dangerous for my kids,” said Marsh, who said her home has been broken into three times in the last year. “No telling what’s in the debris out there. We know it can be better than this if they just help us.”

Like many in Central Los Angeles, Martinez and Marsh live amid the blight of illegal dumping. Although the problem is citywide, officials say it is concentrated in South-Central and Watts, and to a lesser extent in Downtown, Crenshaw, Pico-Union and the Eastside. The city estimates 120,000 tons of trash is dumped illegally every year--enough to fill a line of 11.5-ton garbage trucks 77 miles long. About 70,000 tons of that is dumped in Central Los Angeles.

Area businesses and residents, whom authorities call “midnight dumpers,” are largely responsible, according to public-works officials. Small tire shops, contractors and waste haulers--business people who operate on thin profit margins--dump to avoid costly landfill fees, the officials say. And residents add to the debris with dressers, TVs, playpens, car batteries and other bulky or hazardous objects that city garbage trucks won’t pick up.

Many activists accuse the city of failing to provide cleanup services that are routine in more affluent areas such as the Westside and the San Fernando Valley. They question whether some of the oldest and poorest parts of the city are a priority for the City Council, which allocated just $35 million--less than 1% of the city’s $3.8-billion budget--for street, alley and lot cleaning in the 1992-93 fiscal year.

City officials bristle at the notion that preferential treatment is meted out in some areas, noting that 70% of street, alley and lot cleaning crews are assigned to Central Los Angeles. The officials say they sympathize with the community’s plight but lack the resources to stem the trash flow.

“It is horribly frustrating to everybody in this bureau,” said Pat Howard, director of the Bureau of Street Maintenance. “We live with the problem too and we see the worst of it. We just don’t have adequate tools to clean it to our expectations or to the expectations of the public.”

Those who live and work amid the debris say it devalues their neighborhoods, provides a haven for the homeless, and attracts gangs and drugs. The problem, they say, is also exacting a psychological toll.

“It’s depressing to walk through a community where you have raised your children and see it deteriorate to this level,” said Priscilla Cash, office manager of Bel-Vue Presbyterian Church on East 118th Street. “You hate to come to church on a Sunday morning and see all that trash dumped out there. Maybe that’s why people have such a negative attitude about living in this area. It looks like a big garbage dump.”

Indeed, some predict that post-riot rebuilding plans will have little effect without a concerted effort to clean up the thousands of lots, alleys and streets that serve as illicit dumping grounds.

“I can’t see how jobs are going to do anybody any good when you still have dirty neighborhoods and all these drug peddlers,” said Clara Pierce, a member of a Neighborhood Watch on 52nd Place south of USC. “I’ve been here 32 years. Where am I to go where it will be any better?”

Businesses are no less angry about having to clear the steady stream of debris dumped on their properties. Some say that--combined with costs to combat vandalism, graffiti and theft--the price of staying in Los Angeles is quickly becoming too high.

“How do you impress upon people that Los Angeles is a place to do business when they come down here and see garbage piled on the (train) tracks?” asked Stanley Kramer, president of Kramer Metals on Slauson Avenue. Kramer said he has spent as much as $1,000 a month to clear debris around his business and fight the other problems. “It’s a good reason to move the hell out.”

Illegal dumping persists for a number of reasons, including:

* Budget cuts during the last 18 months that have cost the city department that cleans up the debris almost a fifth of its employees. The Bureau of Street Maintenance has 402 field workers to clean 800 miles of alleys, 7,000 miles of streets and 20,000 lots citywide.

Although crews try to respond to service requests within three days, they often are forced to delay service for two months or more in alleys that are dirty but not blocked, said Bruce Howell, a supervisor with the bureau’s lot-cleaning division, which also cleans alleys. As many as 200 dirty alleys in Central Los Angeles are on a backlog, according to the Board of Public Works, which oversees the Bureau of Street Maintenance.

“Until a community starts screaming for help, they seem to be ignored,” said Gloria Chavez, president of the City Terrace Coordinating Council, who has met with city, county and state officials to address the dumping in her area. “You hear a lot of yeses at meetings (with officials), but we have had very minimal responses.”

* Bureaucratic guidelines that can delay cleaning for as long as 45 days. Owners must be notified of the problem and given the opportunity to clear their properties before the city or county does the work. But tracking down absentee landlords can take six months if a property changes hands while the owners are being sought, said John A. Kincaid, a supervising agricultural inspector with the county’s agricultural commissioner’s office.

* It is difficult to catch and prosecute dumpers. Dumping non-hazardous materials carries a maximum $1,000 fine and/or one year in jail; dumping hazardous materials carries a maximum $100,000 daily fine and/or a minimum of three years in state prison.

But because the crime typically occurs in the middle of the night, few witnesses are available to identify perpetrators in court--a prerequisite for prosecution, according to city and county attorneys. Witnesses also may be unwilling to testify for fear of retaliation, prosecutors said.

In fact, the city attorney’s office has not prosecuted a single midnight-dumping case in five years, according to attorneys. The district attorney’s office has been more successful, with about 20 such prosecutions in Los Angeles County over five years.

Although the city has little money to spend on the problem, the Board of Public Works has proposed a $500,000 plan to place dumpsters at a private dumping station on Washington Boulevard just east of Alameda Street. Trucks weighing two tons or less would be allowed to dump non-hazardous materials free. The plan is expected to come before the City Council next spring.

Council members said that, despite the money crunch, their offices are assisting community groups and businesses in other ways.

For example, Councilman Richard Alatorre’s Boyle Heights field staff is helping to coordinate an anti-dumping and graffiti project among businesses, police, the local chamber of commerce and the city Department of Transportation. Plans call for no-dumping signs, private security patrols and possibly surveillance cameras atop some businesses in the area bounded by Olympic Boulevard and Indiana, Esperanza and Noakes streets. The projects, expected to cost about $30,000 for the first year, will be launched in January.

And last month, the City Council approved a motion by Councilman Mike Hernandez to speed up the six- to eight-week process for cleaning up homeless encampments. The motion came in response to complaints of constituents in Downtown and surrounding areas over street people breaking open locked dumpsters and leaving trash in alleys. The length of the cleanup process--during which city staffers inspect encampments and counselors advise the homeless of their options--could be cut in half under the measure, said David Marquez, a senior field deputy for Hernandez.

Nevertheless, city officials insist that illegal dumping is too large for government to tackle alone. Any solution, they say, will ultimately rest in public-private partnerships.

The Board of Public Works, along with City Council representatives from South-Central, Watts, Pico-Union and Downtown, has proposed a pilot “neighborhood alley reclamation project” in which homeowner groups, community organizations and businesses will adopt alleys to monitor dumping and to schedule periodic cleanup days.

Community groups will be encouraged to report license plate numbers of suspected illegal dumpers so the city can track them down and issue warnings. The City Council also will consider installing gates on nuisance alleys where problems are continual. And no-dumping posters supplied by a Crenshaw company will be provided free.

“In these days of budget shortfalls, we have to (ask) that when cuts come, are (business) people going to be willing to ante up?” Public Works Commissioner John Murray asked. “We in government are saying that we don’t have all the answers.”

Although the program is not scheduled to begin until early next year, a few groups have already signed on, including the Vermont and Normandie Community Council. Five days a week, its members patrol their area--bounded by Normandie, Vermont, Gage and Florence avenues--to alert the city about trouble spots. Twice each week, council members also pick up bulky items left in streets and alleys and take them to pickup sites established by the city.

And 75 to 100 Crenshaw businesses plan to spend about $2,500 a month to provide anti-dumping posters and bins for would-be dumpers in alleys behind Jefferson Boulevard between Crenshaw Boulevard and La Brea Avenue. The businesses, each spending about $25 to $50, also hope to hire neighborhood residents to erase graffiti and pick up trash.

A number of other businesses also are beginning to step in where government falls short.

Members of the Spring Street Assn., a Downtown property owners group, have spent more than $53,000 over two years to put up gates for two alleys and add fences to two parking lots between Main Street and Broadway to stop dumping in the area, association director Cherryl Wilson said.

And a South-Central businessman is trying to establish a consortium of 120 property owners who would spend about $400,000 to fund 24-hour patrols, guard posts, anti-graffiti campaigns, tree planting and possibly a park in the area bound by Avalon Boulevard and Gage, Slauson and Central avenues.

Despite the efforts of the city and the private sector, many community leaders say they see little relief. Indeed, neighborhood organizations--which lack financial resources and political clout--are hoping that officials will re-examine their priorities. However, activists doubt that will happen at a time when emergency services are being cut, and they say the dumping problem may only grow worse.

“Before they begin to look at funding new programs for hundreds of thousands of dollars, they need to look at maintaining the menial services (they) are giving us now,” said Chavez, of the City Terrace Coordinating Council. “Until our decision-makers decide that this is a threat, I don’t see much good happening.”