By Shirlee Smit h B oyle Heights - African Americans Were There , our organization, seeks to develop a historical perspective documenting the early arrivals and the continuous influx of our elders into this vibrant and multicultural community. Through stories, pictures and more, we work to present the facts surrounding our existence. We work to restore our history. And equally as important, we work to educate the public. Please contact us (626) 296-2777 with stories or other information regarding African Americans in Boyle Heights.  The stories of Black families in Boyle Heights have a common thread—moving from Boyle Heights but coming back to the “home place,” race relations, and the unique ability to never be too far away from their local relatives. African Americans N Boyle Heights - We Were There stories focus on where they worked, where they came from, their hopes and dreams. All African Americans who lived in Boyle Heights didn’t necessarily ...

Deborah (r.) and Denise Lewis, at 8 and 9-years-old. Photo courtesy of the Lewis Family. By Shirlee Smith Boyle Heights - African Americans Were There, our organization, seeks to develop a historical perspective documenting the early arrivals and the continuous influx of our elders into this vibrant and multicultural community. Through stories, pictures and more, we work to present the facts surrounding our existence. We work to restore our history.  And equally as important, we work to educate the public. Please contact us (626) 296-2777 with stories or other information regarding African Americans in Boyle Heights. The stories of Black families in Boyle Heights have a common thread—moving from Boyle Heights but coming back to the “home place,” race relations, and the unique ability to never be too far away from their local relatives. African Americans N Boyle Heights - We were there stories focus on where they worked, where they came from, their hopes and dreams. African A...

by Ona Russell My father can hardly contain himself. Since we spotted the Boyle Heights exit, he’s been craning his neck, shifting in his seat, ordering me to turn this way, not that. He’s eighty-five, but reminds me more of my six year-old grandson at the sight of the Disneyland Matterhorn. Or myself at the Nordstrom’s off ramp. (Photo to left: Samuel Kantor) The visit to Boyle Heights, an area once known for its ethnic diversity, is ostensibly professional for me. I am researching it for my third historical novel, set there in the 1920s. Among other things, my story relies on the premise that despite its melting pot status, strong divisions existed among the various working class groups, especially geographically, with neighborhoods intentionally segregated. But narrative considerations aren’t motivating my dad as we drive up the 5, and his reason for accompanying me certainly has nothing to do with fiction. Indeed, he grew up in the community and is simply excited...