I ❤️ LA .... Well, maybe not in the mid 20th century -- Murder at the Sleepy Lagoon and the Zoot Suit Riots, 1942-1943. Part One.

This week, I'd like to discuss riots that occurred in LA (my home town) from 1942 to 1943.

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But, first, we have to learn about the Zoot Suit.

Whaaaat? What in H E double hockey sticks, do clothes have to do with the riots that swamped the city during WW2?  Ahhh.  Well, let's see, shall we?

A Zoot Suit?  Take a look at this:

...and this is actually a pretty conservative example.

The immortal Cab Calloway.  This was the 'suit' at its' more extreme form.

But, to really 'see' the zoot suit, you have to experience it, and there is really no other way, than to see Calloway in action.  Take a look!

There was also a 'look' for female 'hep cats:'

OK.  We now know what the suit looked like, but what about its' origin? Well, that question is a tad mysterious.  I was able to uncover a book by historian Kathy Peiss, https://www.amazon.com/Zoot-Suit-Enigmatic-Career-Extreme/dp/0812243374, so check it out if you'd like to read more, OK?  Peiss contends (and I agree with her) that the origins of the 'zoot' are difficult to trace.  

Having said that, there is a possible explanation that the zoot suit may have been derived, in part, from the so-called "drape suit",  popularized by Edward VIII, when he was the Prince of Wales:

I'm not sure about that, though.

Let's look again:

Is this theory accurate?  The POW was known for having his suits made in fabrics that raised some eyebrows at the time (glen plaids, etc.), plus the cut of the slacks, and the double breasted jacket...well, I'll leave it to you, alright?

This is a typical "glen plaid" suit, just to give you an idea.  I know, I know.  The plaid is a little much, for today's fashion.

One thing is certain, however, that by the 1930s, the zoot had become the suit of choice among African American men in New York City.  Shortly thereafter, young Chicano men in Los Angeles adopted the look of the "hep cat" (i.e., the zoot).  Sometimes fashion statements are important, in helping us affirm cultural identity, particularly if it exists within a hostile environment.  

Another strong characteristic of both cultures was, of course, jazz.  Well, swing to be precise. Want to hear some?

Over time, the suit and swing music were associated, by whites, with violence, crime, and 'delinquency' (whatever the f&*k that word means).

https://www.newspapers.com/topics/world-war2/zoot-suit-riots/

Ye Gods.  Nope, nothing wrong with that (GAG).

After Pearl Harbor, wearing the Zoot was problematic, because cloth was strictly rationed.  Thus, when servicemen (or citizens) saw someone wearing the suit, they often reacted with violence, calling the victim unpatriotic.  Newspapers quickly climbed on this bandwagon:

https://www.newspapers.com/topics/world-war2/zoot-suit-riots/

Ohhh-kaaaaay.

You know, this kind of attitude isn't really an aberration--clothes 'oft proclaim the man' so to speak.  For example, during the American Revolution, any woman caught wearing a dress made of silk (or any other imported cloth) was often the subject of public violence.  There were stories of women being stoned because they were wearing an old silk dress.

Alright, now on to the riots.

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The Sleepy Lagoon Murder Case:

In April, 1942, President Roosevelt signed the infamous "Executive Order 9066."  This unconstitutional (yes, I define the legislation as such) action imprisoned thousands of Japanese-Americans in concentration camps for much of the duration of World War II.  Such a horrific piece of governmental legislation, was indicative of white attitudes at the time.  It was also decreed that young men who'd served any time in prison, for serious offences, were not eligible for the draft.  

Imagine not being able to fight either Tojo, or Hitler. No, thank you!

Resentments inspired by EO 9066, in addition to the admittedly bigoted police force in LA, rose to a fever pitch by 1941-1942, and were exacerbated by feverish reports in local newspapers (owned by ole Randolph Hearst-baby, of "Citizen Kane" fame).  F*&%ing Hearst.  Why the hell didn't he just stay put in his little fairy tale castle?

So, what was the "Sleepy Lagoon" case? It involved the death of Jose Gallardo Diaz.  The young man was found wounded (well, dying, really), near a popular swimming hole--Sleepy Lagoon which was located at approximately 5500 Slauson Boulevard, near the present day city of Commerce, CA.

It doesn't look like the industrial complex that it is today, eh?

Diaz attended a party for friends on August 1, 1942.  Now, what happened next, is a little fuzzy.  Some witnesses said that youths from the infamous 38th street confronted Diaz, supposedly seeking revenge for a previous beating of several boys from their neighborhood.  Others said that a fight suddenly broke out during the party, resulting in several injuries--the most severe bring Diaz.  At some point, someone shouted that the police had been called, and the party-goers scattered.  Diaz found by officers at the scene, and was rushed to LA County Hospital, where he expired without regaining his senses.  An autopsy showed that he was drunk (although the relevance of that escapes me) and had sustained serious fractures in the back of his skull.  No direct cause of death was ever proven.  

Arrest and Trial 

In response to the death (or perhaps seeking an excuse), the LAPD immediately "rounded up the usual suspects" (to quote from the film "Casablanca").  The police ended up arresting dozens of Mexican American youths as suspects in the murder, although some sources place that number in excess of 200.  It was known as a 'dragnet' in those days (just the facts, ma'am.  Yeah, right).  Arrests were made on the basis of race and affiliation with the so-called "38th street gangs," nothing more.  Both African Americans, and Chicanos were arrested.  Subsequent examinations of these events vary, as to why the police acted with such reckless, racist abandon.  There appears to be some consensus though, that the LAPD used this as an opportunity to 'crack down' on Mexican American youths--many of whom adopted the zoot suit fashion, especially in their evening dress.  There was a strong impression among law enforcement (shit, let's just be honest and say the white community, OK?) that the young men of these communities (re:  barrios) were out of control (NOT), and a show of strength was needed by the establishment.  Is this sounding familiar yet?

Eventually, the number of accused were pared down to these young men, and it's important to remember their names:

Jack Melendez, Victor Thompson, Angel Padilla, John Y. Matuz, Ysmael Parra (Smiles), Henry Leyva, Gus Zamora, Manuel Reyes, Robert Telles, Manuel Delgado, Jose Ruiz (Chepe), Victor Segobia, and Henry Ynostroza.

There was virtually no proof of their guilt.  After the arrests, they were held, without bail, on a murder charge.  The subsequent trial was a joke, and  the "hanging judge" hearing the case was a jerk named Charles W. Fricke.  Lawyers said, that Fricke often characterized himself as a 'prosecutor's judge.'  I'll just let your imagination roam from there.  People v. Zammora began in October, 1942, and ended in January, 1943.  If you can believe this, the prosecution's main argument was the appearance of the accused.  

Whaaaaa?

Reports were made by family members that they were not allowed to bathe.  They were not allowed to get hair cuts.  The prosecution wanted the young men to appear at their worst, in an attempt to influence the jury.  Nope, nothing wrong here (gasp, gag).

At the trial's conclusion, nearly all of the young men were found guilty of murder, or assault.  Sentences ranged from life in prison, to a few years in LA county jail. Many of the defendants were sent to Folsom prison, including the "leader" of the group, Henry Leyvas (who was one of the unfortunate kids sentenced to life).  Believe me, Dear Reader, you don't ever want to even think about that place.  In 1943, even a few months in Folsom was enough to destroy the soul.

Now, who wouldn't be reassured by this environment?

   

   

Nice interior, too.

These were called "single occupancy cells."  Holy Zeus, Batman, talk about a place conducive to insanity.  Do you notice any resemblance to Alcatraz?  Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

This was a typical single cell at Alcatraz, but is indicative of the kinds of conditions existing at Folsom:

Now, that's a five star hotel room.

Is it any wonder, that even spending a few months in such a place, for a murder you never committed might ruin your life? I hate to write this, but many of the defendants who were sentenced to jail time in this case, would find themselves back in jail repeatedly.  That's the way it sometimes happens, I suppose, for the innocent defendants who find themselves incarcerated.  

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Let's take a moment to focus on one of the most prominent defendants in the case:  Henry Reyes Leyvas, to see what happened to him.

To illustrate my point, let's take a look at the most well-known defendant in the case, Henry Reyes Leyvas.  He was born in Tuscon, Arizona.  His family moved to LA, when he was still quite young.  Growing up in the barrio was not easy:  Leyvas was arrested by police in his teenage years several times, for crimes such as assault and auto theft.    But, these tangles with the law often make one forget that people can be complex.  A shade of grey, yes?  Leyvas' sister remembers him as a kind and loyal friend.  A good son and brother.  He was a gifted mechanic, and was always impeccably dressed.  She remembered that he owned one zoot suit, which he wore for special nights out on the town.  

In many of his encounters with the police, Leyvas was sometimes subject to false arrest--but, again, there is nothing new about that, right? In those days, any person of color was automatically a suspect to a police force that was nearly exclusively white.  I think we can definitely say that little has changed.  However, at the time of the Sleepy Lagoon murder, Leyvas was apparently trying to turn his life around.  According to his sister, he was all set to join the merchant marines.  But, little definitive information attests absolutely to his immediate plans in the time surrounding the murder of Jose Gallardo Diaz.  

Whatever Henry's dreams and aspirations were, they disappeared in a single night--as did those of the other male defendants in the Sleepy Lagoon murder case.

Leyvas was among those sentenced to life in Folsom prison--translation? His whole life was blown away.

Henry, or "Hank" as he was often called by family and friends, later reported that after his arrest, he was thrown in jail under a false name, making it nearly impossible for his attorney to find him.  He was finally located--dumped in a room for interrogation.  He was battered and bruised.  Hank later told his lawyer that he had been beaten by police into giving him a confession.

By the way, Dear Reader, if you'd like to experience the LAPD's culture during this period, let me recommend "L.A. Confidential."  

Don't worry, it's free!

This movie is really good.  But, if you'd like a beautiful, complex portrait of Angelino culture (a la mid-20th century), then I suggest reading the quartet of books devoted to that subject, by the brilliant James Ellroy.

From the beginning of the trial, Hank was labelled by the prosecution as the leader of this "gang," somewhat unfairly, because there was absolutely no evidence to suggest this.  After the trial's conclusion, and his subsequent life sentence to Folsom prison, things went even more rapidly downhill for Hank.  He was pissed off (understandably) and deeply embittered by events.  This did not exactly make him a model prisoner, for he "acted out" on occasion.  Folsom authorities threw Hank into the "hole" several times during his tenure at this triple A hotel.  Want to see what their version of solitary confinement looked like?

Well, there is this little beauty:

And, here is the spacious tennis court area, for a little outdoor recreation:

I guess these pictures kinda speak for themselves, yes?

Leyvas was in Folsom, under high security, for three months.  In the meantime, activists LaRue McCormick and Alice McGrath formed the "Sleepy Lagoon Defense Committee" both to raise money, and to demand a re-trial for the young men.  Their efforts were ultimately successful, and in October, 1944, the California 2nd District Court of Appeals threw out the original verdict of the court, and dismissed the case.  The former defendant's records were expunged of the crime.

I wish I could tell you that Hank was able to return to his old life, only a little changed by his experiences.  But, that would be a fairy tale, and Los Angeles has never been a place for those kinds of stories.  He did try, but ultimately could not surmount his experience in Folsom prison.  Soon after his release from prison, Hank was arrested on a drug charge.  He was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a prison term of 10 to 12 years.  Jesus.

After his release from prison, Leyvas' life finally stabilized.  He became a gentle activist for the Chicano youth in his neighborhood, and ended up managing a restaurant named "Hank's" in East LA.  He never married.  In July, 1971, Hank was in a local bar, where he suffered a fatal heart attack.  He was 48.

Are you depressed yet? OK.  Let's go on to the riots, which story I shall relate to you in the next post....