Sam Hall Kaplan Reviews Mercado La Paloma April 08, 2006 By Sam Hall Kaplan April 4, 2006 A week seldom goes by these days without some gathering or other examining, explaining, and exclaiming the growth of Downtown. The talks by the usual promotion-minded developers, pandering politicians, commission craving architects and marginal academics generally have been upbeat, and the focus upscale. As an adjunct member of the design and development community as well as the misanthropic media, I have found the gatherings mostly pleasant affairs, especially if a complementary caloric conscious lunch is served and the others at the table are congenial. But despite the attendance of the usual movers and shakers, and the curious and confused, rarely revealed are any new perspectives of an evolving Downtown. All apparently belong to the same self-important club, whatever it might be called. That is why so welcomed was the recent celebration at the Mercado La Paloma, at 3655 South Grand Avenue. Once a raw warehouse and sweat shop, the two story industrial structure was imaginatively redeveloped by the neighborhood-based Esperanza Community Housing Corporation five years ago into an engaging people place. The celebration was a pause in the market's daily operations to honor those who have made the ambitious community concept a reality. Singled out in particular were its executive director, the indomitable Sister Diane Donoghue, and the project architect Brenda Levin, whose social commitment matches her considerable talent. She spoke movingly of architecture’s role in shaping a more livable city. The presentations to them and several persevering vendors and other friends of this very decidedly different Grand Avenue initiative were made by a beaming Councilwoman Jan Perry. She has been very supportive of the market, as was her predecessor, Rita Walters, in its formative years. Viewing the applauding crowd of several hundred, the occasion for me also was a reminder that living and working in the shadow of Downtown is a vast population beyond the cliché vision of the suit-and- tie crowd and their compatriot comfortable loft dwellers, a smattering of students and artists, and the ever-present, down-and-out, denizens of skid row. The area just south of the 10 Freeway is known among the do-good agencies that serve it as the Maple-Adams/Hoover-Adams neighborhood, though an enterprising realtor schooled at USC and apprenticed in Beverly Hills might refer to it as Downtown Adjacent. Whatever it is called, the neighborhood is home to an estimated 132,000 people, seventy percent of whom are Latino, with the balance a mix of African-American, Asian and white. Most fall under the category of the working poor, and hold jobs a short bus or blue line commutes away in the garment and service industries Downtown. Indeed, some even walk to work, which of course is the ultimate goal of trying to balance the jobs and housing market and begin to free the freeways, These are the people who clean the offices, unpack the boxes, hem the skirts, scramble the eggs, bus the tables, and carry out the trash, among other endeavors. And though they in effect keep Downtown functioning and thriving, most are essentially "invisible" in the popular portrait of the area projected by its boosters. This was the population the non-profit Esperanza Corp. targeted when a decade ago it decided to diversify its community building efforts and sponsor the market. Prompting it was that recognition that providing decent housing, though essential, does not alone make a community. It was felt an inviting family-oriented gathering place if nurtured could take advantage of a neighborhood that despite its poverty and other problems was "notably rich in community networks, diverse cultural and artistic traditions, community spirit and leadership, entrepreneurial aspirations, and the determination to improve conditions for all." With that in mind, the Mercado La Paloma was conceived as a public market-plus, providing not only the usual array of food, but also much, much more. This includes stalls where neighborhood artists and entrepreneurs could display their homemade and handmade goods, and arts and crafts, and offices on a second floor where various non-profit and public organizations could offer health and social services. Recycling the structure that essentially was a raw factory into a light, bright social space was a challenge made easier, said Levin, by the "selfless" desire and determination of the community corporation to serve the neighborhood. Having a convenient, tree-shaded parking lot also makes it easy for ethnic "noshers" like myself to on occasion stop by for an San Salvadoran delight at Desmond's, wash it down with a concoction from the Oaxcacalkifornia Fruit & Juice Bar, and top it off with an indulgence from Lalo’s Bakery. The food court at the market offers has to offer some of the most authentic Central American fare north of the border, and at more than reasonable prices. Nevertheless, the market frankly continues to struggle. Though near Downtown and USC and its surrounding gentrifying neighborhood, the market unfortunately attracts neither the deeper pockets gourmands nor the adventurous lunchtime crowds, Not even the school's planning and architecture students. You would think that being in walking distance, the market would be required attendance in any urban design course. 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