Cholo Style: from El Paso to Los Angeles

Cholo Style: From El Paso to Los Angeles
by Damian Gomez
July 31, 2018
   

     The origins of modern American graffiti can be a contentious topic and it's been discussed in many books and documentary films. When asked about the origins of modern American graffiti, most folks will conjure up images of early 1970s New York City subway cars or if you happen to be in the know, you may hark back to an earlier time in 1960s Philadelphia. In other words, the history of modern American graffiti is typically associated with East Coast hip-hop subculture but what about West Coast cholo graffiti and its origin? 

Cholo graffiti predates East Coast hip-hop graffiti by at least two decades. Videos and photographs depicting Los Angeles cholo graffiti dating as far back as 1940 serve as archaeological evidence for those looking to place Los Angeles on a chronological time line alongside Philadelphia and New York. For those looking to ascertain the actual point of origin, things may be a little more complex as the history and origin of cholo graffiti is vague at best. Cholo graffiti is usually relegated to a lower status (artistically) and is placed into a different classification than that of East Coast hip-hop graffiti. Unlike the graffiti styles that developed later in Philadelphia and New York City, cholo graffiti hand-styles are unique in that they often resemble Olde English and Gothic typography. Christian P. Acker, author of the book “Flip the Script: A Guidebook for Aspiring Vandals & Typographers” writes “Gothic types have long been a staple of the visual landscape in Mexico and Mexican American culture...The very first printing press in the new world was established in Mexico City in 1534, imported from Seville, Spain and stocked full with the metal types of the day, mostly from Dutch type foundries” [Acker]. Recent trends in mainstream graffiti subculture appear to be borrowing more and more from what was once considered to be an outdated and substandard graffiti style (i.e cholo graffiti). With little information available regarding the history and origin of cholo graffiti, it is generally assumed that cholo graffiti originated in Los Angeles. However, my research suggests that the point of origin is not Los Angeles but rather the city of El Paso, Texas. That's right, during the late 19th century El Paso played a crucial role in the cultural diffusion of what is now recognized as cholo subculture and it's not that difficult for one to hypothesize that along with cholo subculture came its unique and inherent style of graffiti.     

     Situated in the hot and dry American Southwest on the North bank of the Rio Grande River, El Paso or El Paso del Norte was considered to be an important mountain pass by Spanish Franciscan friars. In its incipient stage, El Paso was a part of New Mexico and was economically bound with Santa Fe. It wasn't until the Texas Revolution (1835-1836) and the annexation of Texas (1845) did El Paso become a part of Texas. The Southern Pacific Railroad connected El Paso to Los Angeles in 1881. Authors of “How We Got Here: The Roads We Took To America” Donna S. Morales and John P. Schmal write “Located in the westernmost part of Texas at the point where the Rio Grande River intersects with the Texas-New Mexico state line, El Paso represented a strategic point between the American railroad network and the central Mexican heartland. In May 1881, the Southern Pacific Railroad reached El Paso from Los Angeles. A month later, the Santa Fe Railroad arrived in El Paso from Santa Fe, New Mexico...” [Morales & Schmal]. By 1884 the Mexican Central Railway had linked Mexico City to Ciudad Juárez which is located directly across the river from El Paso. In the early 20th century, many Mexican immigrants were incentivized by the employment opportunities created by the ever expanding North American railroad system. This is especially true after Chinese immigrant workers were excluded from recruitment and training. Mexican or Mexican American railroad workers became known as “traqueros”, a word that derives from the Spanglish word “traque” for “track.” It was via this vast railroad system (and other accessible migration routes) that the early Mexican American gang subculture would eventually find its way from El Paso to Los Angeles. 

     Recognized experts on the subject of American street gangs, including anthropologist Arthur J. Rubel, suggest that the precursor to West Coast Mexican gangs and cholo subculture is what is referred to as the palomilla or “flock of doves.” The palomilla is described as groups or cliques of young Mexican men that were affiliated by age, a type of male cohorting. These cliques (or klikas) were first reported in South Texas in the early 1900s [Howell & Moore].  James C. Howell, author of the book,  “The History of Street Gangs in the United States: Their Origins and Transformations” writes “Twenty to twenty-five gangs composed of three hundred to four hundred Mexican boys (80 percent of whom were under fifteen years of age) were reported in the Mexican section of El Paso in 1924” [Howell].  According to the National Gang Center, “These nascent gangs appear to have migrated along the trail that originated in Mexico and continued along a route through El Paso and Albuquerque, and onward to Los Angeles. The first Los Angeles gangs, called “boy gangs” clearly were patterned after the palomilla” [Howell & Moore]. 

early 1940's pachucos

By the early 1940s, this distinctive Mexican American gang subculture appears to have evolved into what is known as pachuco subculture. The pachuco or “zoot suiter” subculture became the vanguard of the Mexican American gang subculture. Pachucos were typically identified by their tailored suits or “zoot suits.” These suits were usually accessorized with felt hats, suspenders, and elongated key chains (la cadena) that sometimes dangled clear down to the ankles. Mexican Americans did not invent the “zoot suit” and they weren't the only people wearing them at that time. Many different American ethnic groups including African Americans, Japanese Americans, and Italian Americans wore “zoot suits.” The “zoot suit” came to be known as a counter-cultural fashion statement during that time. Mexican American Pachucos did, however, adopt the “zoot suit” style as a part of their ensemble. The origin of the word “pachuco” is uncertain, but one theory claims that “pachuco” was a word designated to young Mexican gang members (of low social status) who resided in El Paso. Another theory asserts that because El Paso was (and currently is) known as “Chuco Town” or “El Chuco”, Mexican immigrants migrating from El Paso to Los Angeles would say they were going “pa' El Chuco” (to Chuco Town), therefore they became known as “pachucos” and/or “pachucas.” In a newly released Youtube video, Susie Melendez sheds light on El Paso's long and rich pachuco history, “people migrated from Mexico over here to El Paso to work on the railroad...Once they hit California, they were always asked, ‘para dónde la llevas’ (where are you going?) And they would say Para  El Chuco. Pachuco” [Villa]. Some scholars have noted that the Mexican American pachucos indigenous to Los Angeles were quite different from those that came from El Paso, TX. Pachucos from the Los Angeles area were influenced by African American culture, “Mexican American zoot suiters native to Los Angeles spoke more jive; migrants from El Paso spoke pachuco caló with more of a Spanish-language and Spanish slang influence. This is also why when reporters asked Mexican citizens, after the Zoot Suit Riots, where pachucos had come from, many said they came from El Paso” [Licón].

  

     Pachuco subculture was also heavily influenced by Mexican comedic performer Germán Valdés who is known for his iconic character “Tin Tan.” Germán Valdés was born in Mexico City but after moving to Ciudad Juárez in 1931, he quickly became immersed in what historians now label as the “Mexican American generation” [Guzmán]. It would be there, in Ciudad Juárez, where Valdés would begin his career performing as a pachuco on the local radio (La XEJ de Juárez). Today, Germán Valdés is Mexico's most celebrated pachuco. 

Germán Valdés aka "Tin Tan"

      Young pachucos living in the American Southwest even developed their own argot or exclusive hybrid language called Caló or “pachuco Caló.” Pachuco Caló consisted of words like “ruca” (wife, chick, girlfriend), “¡orale!” (hey right on), and “carnal” (brother, close friend). There were also slang terms created for pachuco graffiti such as “plaqueazo” and/or “placa” which can be described as a list of each gang member's street moniker in graffiti form [Tranquilino & Tagg]. To pachucos and pachucas, Caló represented style, “it was considered hip and cool to spill out versos suaves (smooth words) to the chicas patas (young women) and eses (young men) while cabuliando (horsing around) after school or work” [Ramirez]. Being a native of the American Southwest, I can attest to the impact that the pachuco subculture had in my homestate of New Mexico as the the local vernacular there [Southeast New Mexico] is heavily influenced by pachuco Caló. Shortly after completing my very first graffiti throw-up in my neighborhood (Southeast Roswell c.1992), I received a phone call from a friend stating that he had heard about my new “placa.” I distinctly remember thinking to myself “Placa? Isn't that like some type of old cholo talk or something?” I can also remember my grandmother speaking fondly of the “zoot suiters” and the pachuco movement that existed in our area when she was a young girl. “Ooh those zoot suiters, they looked so nice!,” she would say as she smiled and reminisced about the halcyon days of her youth growing up in Southeast New Mexico.

It was during this era of the pachucos and “zoot suiters” (early 1940s) that Mexican American gang graffiti began to be documented in places in and around the city of Los Angeles but as I've clearly explained in the preceding paragraphs, by 1940, Mexican American gang subculture had already been well established by the young pachucos of the American Southwest. Being that the only existing documentation of early 1940's cholo graffiti is from Los Angeles, one may feel tempted to argue at this point that the territorial disputes among rivaling neighborhoods in East Los Angeles during the 1940s and 1950s may have been a primary motivating factor behind the advent of cholo graffiti. Nevertheless, we've already learned that neighborhood division among young pachucos was occurring in El Paso, Texas as early as 1924. I don't think that it is too far a stretch to surmise, at this point, that cholo graffiti was imported into Southern California by the early pachucos who came from El Paso, TX.

So why is it (despite these important historical and anthropological details) that the Southwest and/or El Paso is seldom, if ever, mentioned when the topic of Los Angeles or West Coast cholo graffiti is being discussed by so called “experts?” In a recent panel discussion titled “The History of L.A. Graffiti” featuring Chaz Bojorquez, an American graffiti artist from Los Angeles who is referred to as “the Godfather of cholo style”, panelists (including Chaz) fail to make any mention of El Paso and its pivotal role in the development of Los Angeles cholo graffiti. In a different interview from 2012, Los Angeles based artist Cristian "Smear" Gheorghiu says almost haphazardly, “Even before the advent of spray paint in the L.A. River, there were parts under the bridges where zoot suiters or pachucos would get sticks and tar and write their neighborhoods on the walls. Graffiti has been going on in L.A. since forever...” [Devis]. The false implication being made here is that the cholo subculture (including cholo graffiti) is indigenous to Los Angeles, California. This, in my opinion, is a blatant disregard and irreverence for the Southwestern pioneers and veteranos of the unique subculture that they [Californian graffiti artists and cholos] seem to be claiming full ownership of.  

Mike Giant is a celebrated American graffiti artist who spent a significant portion of his life living in the American Southwest. During his time as a youth living in Albuquerque, NM, Mike was exposed to cholo graffiti in his local neighborhood. As a neophyte graffiti artist, Mike absorbed many of the cholo hand-styles that were prevalent in his area. Although the local Mexican gang members were reluctant to interact, much less teach Mike about cholo graffiti, he eventually earned the respect of the local cholos and was taught the trade. Mike Giant is now a recognized authority on the subject of cholo graffiti and the various hand-styles that it consists of. When asked to compare the various hand-styles from New Mexico and Los Angeles,  Mike Giant responds “It's damn close. The Aztlan nation, from El Paso up to Albuquerque, maybe as far north as south Colorado and all the way across to Los Angeles, and then it kind of trickles up to San Francisco through El España too.” At one of Mike's recent art exhibits, a message written in a traditional cholo font reads, “...cholo style, as I see it, came from the barrios of El Paso, Texas...” Underneath this message Mike has painted a large cholo graffiti blockbuster that reads “SOUTHWEST” as if to emphasize the point of origin.

In the future, I hope that those who speak and/or write on behalf of cholo subculture (and graffiti) take the time and make the effort to learn about its rich and colorful history in the American Southwest. It wouldn't hurt to show homage once in a while to the forerunners of what is now considered to be “cholo style.” Regardless of the fact that the term “cholo” or “cholo style” was later adopted in California (in the 1960s), cholo style is the perpetuation of the pachuco style that originated in El Paso and this should not be forgotten.

sources cited:

1. Acker, Christian P. 2014. Flip the Script: A Guidebook for Aspiring Vandals and Typographers. Berkeley , CA: Gingko Press.

2. Morales, Donna S. and John P. Schmal. n.d. “How We Got Here: The Roads We Took To America.” The Hispanic Experience: Cultural Heritage. Retrieved July 29, 2018 (http://www.houstonculture.org/hispanic/roads.html). 

3. Howell, James C. and Joihn P. Moore. 2010. “History of Street Gangs in the United States.” Retrieved July 28, 2018 (https://www.nationalgangcenter.gov/Content/Documents/History-of-Street-Gangs.pdf).

4. Howell, James C. n.d. “First Period of Gang Emergence in the West Region: 1890s - 1930s.” The History of Street Gangs in the United States: Their Origins and Transformations. Retrieved July 28, 2018 (https://books.google.com/books?id=mc5_CgAAQBAJ&pg=PA30&lpg=PA30&dq=The Mexican American palomilla rubel&source=bl&ots=BfTvpaZdA3&sig=Zb6cCdplsZiuxUS4-7YbHDh-Gto&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwir7Jr2mcTcAhWMGDQIHSJqD944ChDoATAEeg

QIAhAB#v=onepage&q=The Mexican American palomilla rubel&f=false).

5. Villa, Viridiana. 2018. “Pachucos: A Culture of Unity.” Retrieved July 30, 2018 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=267&v=5-K_JnhWmhw).  

6. Licón, Gerardo. 2017. “Pachucos: Not Just Mexican-American Males or Juvenile Delinquents.” Pachucos: Not Just Mexican-American Males or Juvenile Delinquents. Retrieved July 27, 2018 (https://www.kcet.org/shows/artbound/the-history-of-pachuco-culture).

7. Guzmán, Romeo. 2017. “Mexico's Most Celebrated Pachuco: Tin Tan.” Artbound. Retrieved July 27, 2018 (https://www.kcet.org/shows/artbound/mexicos-most-celebrated-pachuco-tin-tan).

8. Tranquilino, Marcos S. and John Tagg. 1992. “Cultural Studies, Volume 6, Issue 1.” Retrieved July 30, 2018 (https://books.google.com/books?id=EzD4fdELEioC&pg=PA566&lpg=PA566&dq

=pachuco graffiti el paso&source=bl&ots=EXNuTqO22b&sig=rfsKf53JGkzIsRawy7nijB6A0xI&hl

=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjKnZa8zcTcAhXfHDQIHXatDN0Q6AEwC3oECAcQAQ#v=onepage&q=pachuco graffiti el paso&f=false).

9. Ramirez, Catherine S. 2006. “‘Saying ‘Nothin'": Pachucas and the Languages of Resistance.".” Retrieved July 27, 2018 (muse.jhu.edu/article/209989).

10. Devis, Juan. 2012. “Cristian ‘Smear’ Gheorghiu: My SoCal Art History.” Retrieved July 27, 2018 (https://www.kcet.org/shows/artbound/cristian-smear-gheorghiu-my-socal-art-history-0). 

Dancing Deities

Dancing Deities

by Damian Gomez
3/25/2018

     I had my first psychedelic experience in 1991 at the tender age of fifteen. At that age, I was still rather innocent and until then, I hadn't experimented with drugs, tobacco or even alcohol. For reasons that are still unclear to me, LSD was the first drug that I encountered in my youth. That's right, no gateway drugs for me, straight to the hard stuff! LSD, also known as acid, is the most potent hallucinogen known to man and is considered to be a powerful entheogen because of its tendency to induce mystical and spiritual experiences among users. Even a dose as small as twenty to thirty micrograms can produce mind-expanding effects. To say that my first LSD trip was profound would be an understatement. It was my first real spiritual experience and my perception of reality was forever changed. Many of the visions, thoughts, and emotions that I experienced on my first LSD trip are completely ineffable but I'll do my best to illustrate, in the following paragraphs, what I can only describe as a psychedelic theophany involving Aztec deities. In other words, a visible manifestation or appearance of Aztec deities while under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug.

     It's important for me to digress at this point and mention that I had no existing affinity for ancient Aztec history or culture at that time. In fact, at fifteen years of age, I had a very basic and elementary understanding of ancient Aztec history and culture if any at all. It is only now, after acquiring a formal education and a deeper understanding of world history am I able to make an attempt at identifying and elaborating about what I saw on that remarkable night back in 1991.

     “Are you ready?” a friend asked me in a low voice. He carefully handed me a hit of blotter acid wrapped inside a partially opened piece of tin foil. It was a tiny blue square of perforated blotter paper that had a white star printed directly in the center. Being that it was my first time ever seeing a hit of blotter acid, I studied my dose with a childlike curiosity before ingesting it. I was neither nervous nor fearful. At fifteen years of age, I was stress free and had no real responsibilities, no worries, and no plaguing anxiety. I believe this allowed me to enter into this psychedelic communion with an unclouded mind.

     The weather was warm and the skies were clear over the deserts of southeastern New Mexico on this specific night. I was with an eclectic group of close friends, a congregation of new wavers, punk rockers, and skinheads clad in flight jackets and Dr. Marten boots. Most of these friends were much older than I was so I felt privileged to be with them and was more than willing to partake in their psychedelic indoctrination. After ingesting our LSD, we all piled into a friend's house and waited for the drug to take effect. There were no parents present or authoritative figures there to ruin our acid party, in fact, we had free reign of that house for much of the night. The grinding sound of electronic industrial music became audible in the background as a peculiar energy began to generate throughout the house. It was a cool scene and I felt as if I was a part of something unique and almost esoteric. There were teenagers occupying just about every room including the living room area which is where I had situated myself. Sitting next to me was an attractive young girl who attended the same school that I did. Several glances and smiles were exchanged as we waited with anticipation, but any thoughts that I had of hooking up with her that night slowly dissolved as the LSD began to seize my mind. The high and euphoric feeling that washed over me became almost unbearable. It was at this moment that a young man walked into the center of the living room area and tossed a handful of red glitter into the air which immediately captivated my attention. The glitter seemed to float endlessly in the air as it sparkled in the most resplendent shades of red that I had ever seen. Pure wizardry! This particular event acted as the catalyst that sent me soaring directly into my mind-expanding journey at an astonishing pace. My visual hallucinations intensified to a crippling level and the reality that I once knew was being ripped to shreds before my very eyes. I soon found myself in a new and mystical reality, a kaleidoscopic world of fluctuating colors and patterns. It would be impossible for me to elaborate on my first LSD trip in its entirety because many of those experiences are indescribable and some have simply escaped my memory. For that reason, I will now focus on the most profound and memorable of those experiences, the theophany.

A photo of myself on LSD at the age of 15

     The effects of the LSD strengthened with unyielding ferocity. My speech became jumbled and inarticulate. My visual hallucinations began to take form and the living room was, at this point, almost unrecognizable. The walls, ceilings, and floors were bejeweled and pulsating with varying forms and shapes that would spin, rise and descend. I had entered into a magical and psychedelic dimension of whirling symbols, patterns, and geometric shapes. These fascinating visual hallucinations were translucent and fluctuating with vivid colors. Mars ♂ and Venus♀, the symbols used to denote male and female sex, were revealed to me as interlocking gears in motion. As if things couldn't get any more bizarre, the carpet floor suddenly gave way and a rhombus patterned grid rose from beneath the ground. This grid resembled a small stage or platform made from stone that had large rhombus shaped holes on the surface. Before I could get up and run for the door, a band of Aztec deities slowly ascended in a synchronized fashion from the hollow rhombus shaped portions of the stage. Short in stature, each deity was clothed in ancient Aztec garb and was adorned with charms, pendents, armlets, bracelets, and leg bracelets. To my delight, some deities were dancing while others were playing musical instruments. Despite these bodily figures being very life-like, they appeared translucent while fluctuating with a multitude of neon colors. Continually ascending and descending in synchronization from the rhombus shaped holes atop the stage, it appeared to be some type of shamanic display or show with me being the sole audience and intended recipient of any information that was being communicated. Before long, I had become oblivious to anything or anyone else occupying the living room as I was completely enchanted with this phenomenal and mystical event that I was experiencing. I continued to watch the deities dance for what seemed like several minutes until they departed in the same mystical way that they appeared. My acid trip continued on through night and I had many more memorable experiences but my theophanic experience was the most profound and memorable of them all. So absorbed was I by this singular event that I am able to evoke detail memories of my experience twenty seven years later.

     I'd like to think that I am perspicacious enough to interpret my profound psychedelic experience but I must admit, it's been a tricky and delicate process. I've had lots of time to contemplate whether this was indeed a theophanic experience or if it was nothing more than a drug induced hallucination. As you may already know, Aztec religion and mythology consists of a pantheon of gods and goddesses. None of which I am able to decisively identify as being present during my supposed theophanic experience. They could have been ancient Aztec spirits or perhaps what I was experiencing was an Aztec ancestral visitation. It would then, of course, be imperative to take my genetics into consideration. In addition, there was no interaction between myself and the dancing deities. At no point did anyone of them step down from the stage and approach me. In retrospect, this theophany lasted for a brief moment within a bizarre and freakish night that seemed to last an eternity. I now wholeheartedly believe that my encounter, theophanic or not, may be the only true religious and/or mystical event that I've ever experienced. 

watercolor painting depicting Aztec deity Xochipilli or "The Prince of Flowers"

Ted At Hole Three

Ted at Hole Three

by Damian Gomez

Feb 14, 2017

Characters have been combined and events have been condensed. These are my memories; I am the teller of my own story. Certain episodes are imaginative recreation. To protect the privacy of others, names have been changed and characters conflated. Etc.

     Tucked away in Bonita Valley, just south of the city of San Diego, lies a golf course that I've been frequenting for the last seven years. I don't play golf but I do utilize the three mile long jogging trail that wraps around the golf course. Managed and maintained by the local golf club, the course is lush with eucalyptus trees, well kept greens and beautiful ponds that are teaming with various forms of wildlife. The wildlife isn't restricted to the greens and ponds, it can also be found along the jogging trail. I've seen great egrets, wild coyotes and along the outskirts of the golf course, on the southwest side, is where a group of homeless men congregate. They're typically a small group of about two or three men who greet runners with a friendly wave and smile while inconspicuously consuming liquor wrapped in brown paper bags. Some of the men stand while others prefer to sit on a small set of stairs that connects the jogging trail to a neighboring parking lot. At the center of this group is an older gentleman named Ted who heads a small guerrilla style operation in which he retrieves lost golf balls from the course and then sells them at a competitive price to interested golfers. After becoming acquainted with Ted, I arranged to spend a day (my 41^st birthday to be exact) on the course with him to hang out and shoot photos.

     I arrived at the golf course around 3:30pm on what started as a wet and cold Saturday but by the time I met up with Ted, the clouds were beginning to disperse. I parked my vehicle in the parking lot of a nearby library and after traversing about a quarter mile along a muddy jogging trail, I found Ted sipping on a small bottle of tequila that he had purchased earlier from the local liquor store. He had two large egg crates that were nearly full of golf balls and explained to me that despite the weather, it had been a busy morning for him. Moving effortlessly down the steps without the use of a cane or handrail, Ted made his way onto the green and looked off into the distance, “There was some type of tournament earlier this morning, I think they were Korean”. After taking another quick and discreet sip from his tequila, he said “Hole three, par four”. Being that I've never played a round of golf in my life, I was a bit confused. Ted broke from his distant stare and turned to me, “This is hole three and it's a par four”, he went on to further explain the meaning of par to me. At eighty-one years of age, Ted has managed to retain his vitality and sense of humor. “I don't go into the water to retrieve lost golf balls, there's people that do that though” he explains while pulling a golf ball from one of the egg crates. “This here is a Bridgestone ball”, he rotates the ball to show me the brand name, “it's one of my best sellers, they really like this one”. Ted proceeded to school me on the different types of golf balls and their varying degrees of hardness which golfers take into account before deciding which ball to purchase. Our conversation was briefly interrupted by some golfers who caught Ted's attention. He wasted no time and excused himself from the conversation so that he could tend to his curious customers. Grabbing up one of the golf balls from his egg crate, he presented it to one of the golfers who had taken a particular interest. I took advantage of the moment to snap a few photos of Ted's golf balls and the bottle of tequila that he placed beside the lamp post. The entire area was urine stained and reeked of stray cat as if this was a place where alley cats fucked and dined after hours. Ted made his way back after failing to make the sale and returned the golf ball back to its place in the egg crate. He took another swig from his tequila and wiped his well groomed mustache and beard with his free hand. Oddly, he reminded me of a character from the Earnest Hemingway novel “Old Man and the Sea”, I guess he just struck me as the type of guy who probably knew how to sail a boat. “Why do I do this?” Ted said unexpectedly, “I do this because it's an excuse for me to be here drinking beer. If I were standing here everyday and just drinking beer, what are these people [golfers, joggers, walkers] gonna think? They would think that I'm some old fool but I'm workin', I'm sellin' golf balls and I just happen to be having a beer in the mean time”.

      During the duration of my visit with Ted, several transients stopped by to see him. Ted would introduce each one of them to me as they passed through. I was met with peculiar looks and questions as to what I was doing there. One of the guys asked Ted to loan him a couple of dollars and without any reluctance, Ted reached into his pocket and handed over the money. There was one transient in particular who rode up on a bicycle. He was a big dude and looked kind of menacing as if he was recently released from jail. Ted became really nervous and I immediately took notice to the change in his body language. He [Ted] was now clutching his tequila and nervously looking over my shoulder at the transient who had parked his bicycle and now had taken up a position leaning against a nearby car. For whatever reason, this guy kept his distance and refused to interact with Ted while I was there. He eventually grew tired of waiting and rode off on his bike. It was a slightly tense moment but I didn't feel as if I was in any real danger. “Do you guys ever get hassled out here?” I asked while changing the lens to my camera. Ted pointed further down the golf course and replied, “I was out there earlier this morning drinking a beer and cleaning a handful of golf balls. Some club members approached me and told me that I wasn't allowed on the course...I didn't argue with them. The cops have been here multiple times for different reasons but they don't seem to mind us drinking back here [along the jogging track] as long as we have our beer covered up in paper bags...they've been cool with us.” Ted again became distracted by a passing golfer, “Hey Rod, how ya' doin'?!” he yells. Ted turned back to me and continued “Yea, ..no more than 10% of the people who jog or walk by here, you know, ..you can see it in their face, it's a judgmental thing. The other 90% are nice people who don't mind us being here”.

     As time passed Ted became more intoxicated and his eyes were beginning to go in and out of focus. He struck a few (what could only be described as) fighting poses for the camera while clasping his bottle of tequila in one hand. He slowly began to open up and tell me more about himself as the alcohol circulated throughout his body. I was surprised to learn that Ted used to drive a cab in San Francisco before moving to San Diego. He feels that the time spent behind the steering wheel of a cab sharpened his awareness and his ability to perceive possibly dangerous situations and/or individuals. I inquired into how he ended up in San Diego and listened as he explained that he had moved here to San Diego to live with his brother who was suffering from a medical condition, but after a series of unfortunate events (including the loss of his brother) he ended up on the streets. Unlike many of the other transients that reside in that area though, Ted owns a car which doubles as his home. “Hey you wanna take a drive down to the freeway and go pick up Brent?”, Brent is Ted's buddy who was “signing” down at the freeway exit a few blocks away from where we were. “Signing” is another name for panhandling or begging and is a common sight in San Diego. Ted gathered up his golf balls and tossed his now empty bottle of tequila in the garbage. Going against my better judgment, I hopped in the car with Ted and we were off to go look for Brent. For a guy who just drank a bottle of tequila, Ted demonstrated superb driving skills. The experience reminded me of when I was a young boy and my father would sometimes take me for a drunk drive on the weekends. The interior of Ted's car was rather clean with aged white leather seats. There were books, clothes and boxes of old photos stacked in the back seat. As we passed Sweetwater Summit Regional Park, Ted pointed out the window and told me that he had lots of friends that live off in the “bush” as he called it. “I don't like staying in the bush, it's easy to get infections out there”, he explained while doing his best to navigate the road. “Damian, you'd be surprised to learn how content most of those people are though. They're not going anywhere...nobody will hire them so yea.” We pulled into a Burger King parking lot that was situated near the freeway exit and Ted went out to look for Brent as I waited in the car. I began think to myself just how vulnerable we all are and that it's possible for anyone of us to end up just like Ted under the right circumstances. There was a slight sense of empathy that was developing underneath my emotionless poker face and I tried to imagine myself sleeping in a car every night at the age of eighty-one. It may appear to those who live elsewhere that southern California is always warm but the truth is that it can get really cold at night, especially during the winter. Ted returned to the car by himself, “I couldn't find Brent” he said with a concerned look on his face, “He must have went back to his campsite”. Ted closed the car door and we made our way to the golf course.

     Once back at the golf course, I made good use of the remaining time that I had left with Ted and inquired further into his past. I learned that Ted had served in the Army for a short period and was stationed in France during the Cold War. He had fond memories of his time spent abroad, I could see it in his eyes as he talked about his experiences while living in France. Ted offered to share some photos of himself with me and I was treated to some really vintage looking photos of him in Germany and another photo of him sailing a boat with his mother in the San Francisco Bay. One photo in particular caught my eye, it was a photo of a younger version of him donning a full beard and unique straw hat. I snapped a photo of him holding the photo and listened as he revealed to me that his true passion is skiing. “If I won the lottery, I would move to a ski area. The only reason that I don't do it now is because it's too expensive”, Ted said looking to change the subject. I listened as he reminisced about his days spent on the snowy slopes at various resorts throughout the country. As it turns out, Ted has received advanced medical training and was once involved with the ski patrol. Ted credits his late older brother for getting him out of trouble and into skiing at a very young age. “My older brother was pretty good at skiing and he got me into it because I was starting to kick up a little hell...not much though. He invited me to go skiing with him and his fiancé”, Ted said with a certain excitement in his voice, “it's pretty heavy if you think about it because he's an older guy, a World War Two veteran, who's with a lady that he might marry and they're taking me along?!” Ted feels that skiing served as a positive outlet for him and after completing his service in the Army, he acquired a job working at a ski resort in Vermont. It was after working at the ski resort that he became involved with the ski patrol. We continued to discuss an array of other subjects ranging from history to religion. The sun slowly began to set while the sight of passing golfers and joggers became few and far between. It was getting cold, the stench of stray cat was beginning to stick to my clothes and we were slowly running out of things to talk about so we both decided that it was time for us to part ways.

     Ted and his posse have intrigued me for years and it took some time (and an episode of near heat exhaustion) for me to build rapport with them. I'm thankful for the time that Ted spent talking to me and for allowing me into his life for that brief period of time. I wish nothing but the best for Ted and I'll continue to look forward to seeing him (and his buddy's) every time that I round that southwest corner of the jogging trail.  

Sengoku Jidai: The Warring States Period (1467 – 1600)

Sengoku Jidai: The Warring States Period (1467 – 1600)   

by Damian Gomez

     The Warring States Period is considered by many historians to be the most violent, turbulent, interesting, and exciting time period in Japanese history. It is a time period that is characterized by the rise of rivaling warlords, bushi warriors, and siege warfare. What began as a bitter dispute between two samurai clans quickly spiraled out of control and resulted in over one hundred years of civil war, a military and political disaster which eventually undermined the unified public authority that had been established by the Ashikaga bakufu during the Muromachi period. Sporadic warfare would plague Japan for the next century until a series of conquerors managed to bring stability and order to the land.

     Although there was plenty of fighting between samurai armies during the 15^th century, they were often local disputes and respect for the shogunate was always maintained. It wasn’t until the Yamana clan and the Hosokawa clan began feuding with each other that the situation became volatile and the underlying respect for the shogunate began to deteriorate. The two main protagonists were Hosokawa Katsumoto, who was the prime minister for the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa, and Yamana Mochitoyo, whose family were powerful landowners. Ashikaga Yoshimasa’s wife gave birth to a son in 1465 but the position of shogun had already been given to Yoshimi, Ashikaga Yoshimasa’s brother.  Yoshimasa’s wife then turned to the Yamana clan in hopes that they would help her son commandeer his rightful position. The rivalry between the Yamana clan and the Hosokawa clan erupted into arson and archery attacks that eventually poured into the streets of the capital. This escalation in warfare ushered in what we now refer to as the Ōnin War of 1467. British academic and historian, Stephen Turnbull, writes in his book titled War in Japan: 1467-1615, “Local landowners remote from the capital, all of whom had once pledged loyalty to the shogun, had almost been forced into taking sides with one of the two families whose initial differences of opinion had already brought tragedy to Kyoto. (Turnbull)” Attempts were made by some provincial shugo to acknowledge the shogun’s authority but a growing sense of dissent amongst the locals stifled their attempts. Shugo families also became casualties of war as brothers disputed over titles and landholdings.

     As a result of these conflicts, a power vacuum was created that provided opportunities for warlords and locally based leagues to develop their own local autonomy. One such league that thrived in these circumstances was the hokke ikki or Lotus League who provided institutional support independent of the traditional aristocracy. In an excerpt taken from our textbook, East Asia: A Cultural, Social, and Political History, Patricia Ebrey and Anne Walthall write “With the shogun on the run after 1521, believers in the Lotus Sutra massed in tens of thousands not only to defend the city but also to attack warlords and supporters of different Buddhists sects. They withheld rents, collected taxes, and settled disputes, in effect setting up a commoner-run city government. (Walthall)”

     At the same time, warlords were scrambling for territory and seizing it through military conquest, alliances, or marriage. These warlords, called daimyo, constructed their domains from the inside out and ignored provincial boundaries. Daimyo were militaristic and therefore sought to acquire naturally fortified territories because they were constantly being challenged by their neighbors. Rivaling daimyos battled each other for land and the men who fought in these battles ranged from elite samurai warriors to lowly ranked foot soldiers called ashigaru. “Although the structure of a daimyo’s army changed greatly over time, there was always a basic distinction between the samurai and the foot soldier. At the time of the Ōnin War, the samurai were still the elite troops, the officer corps, the aristocracy, while the foot soldiers were lower class warriors recruited from the daimyo’s estate workers. (Turnbull)” Although there was a distinction between professional samurai warriors and foot soldiers, daimyo retained only a small core of men who could actually be considered “regular soldiers”. This small core of men consisted of the daimyo’s family members and hereditary retainers known as fudai while the rest of the army was made of part-time soldiers who did agricultural work in the paddy fields when they weren’t fighting in battles. Turnbull writes in his book Samurai: The Story of Japan’s Great Warriors, “Part-time soldiering was a very common feature in the period of Warring States, …For much of samurai history, most armies were disbanded at the end of a campaign and their members sent back to work in the fields, so that some samurai, and virtually all the ashigaru, would return to their lands to be summoned again when the need arose. (Turnbull, Samurai: The Story of Japan's Great Warriors)” The Ōnin War came to an end around 1477 but many different battles would be fought in the following years to come. Some daimyos fought protracted wars with each other that lasted for many years such as the conflict between the Takeda and Uesugi families who fought with each other for over half a century. 

  

     During this age of violence and turmoil, battle hardened warlords were forged into great conquerors whose political experiments laid the groundwork for Japan’s new central authority and unification via military conquest. There was a shogun in Kyoto during this time however, he was of little significance and only provided the legitimation for a potential power struggle. In 1560, a daimyo by the name of Imagawa Yoshimoto attempted to march on the capital but his campaign was obstructed by Oda Nobunaga, a minor daimyo from Owari province that had risen to power from an obscure lineage. After decimating Yoshimoto’s forces and aligning himself with local samurai families, Oda Nobunaga captured the capital in 1568 and deposed the shogun. He gave himself powers of regency and focused his sights on the Buddhist temples’ military, economic, and political power. His assault began with a place called Enryakuji where in 1571, “…he burned three thousand buildings in its temple complex on Mount Hiei and massacred the monks. (Walthall)” In 1580, Oda turned his sights on the Ikko ikki and their fortified headquarters in Ishiyama Honganji. After the fall of the headquarters at Ishiyama Honganji, Oda began to extend his influence westwards with the assistance of two of Oda’s most skilled and experienced generals, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Akechi Mitsuhide. Oda Nobunaga defeated all of his rivals and was considered a military genius. He also promoted trade with European merchants and trained his ashigaru to use firearms which had been introduced to Feudal Japan by Portuguese and Dutch traders. Oda Nobunaga was the victim of an assassination attempt in 1582 in which the temple he was staying was set on fire by Akechi Mitsuhide and his army. Oda is said to have committed suicide and was consumed by the blaze. Akechi Mitsuhide proclaimed himself as shogun but this wouldn’t last long because Oda’s death would soon be avenged by Toyotomi Hideyoshi.

     Toyotomi Hideyoshi , a farmer that had risen through the ranks via his own efforts, was now presented with an opportunity to respond swiftly to the unfolding events that were occurring miles away. “Nobunaga’s ablest general, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was campaigning many miles away when the coup happened. On hearing the awful news, Hideyoshi rushed back to Kyoto and defeated the usurper at the battle of Yamazaki. (Turnbull, Samurai: The Story of Japan's Great Warriors)” In the following years, Hideyoshi and his forces subdued and intimidated powerful warlords in Northern Japan that had remained untouched during the rule of Oda Nobunaga.  Hideyoshi rebuilt Kyoto and commandeered enormous resources throughout the land. He sought to stabilize Japan and instituted a nationwide land survey in an attempt to quantify landholdings and estimate tax revenues. In 1588, Hideyoshi enacted the first of two ordinances that would create a rigid distinction between samurai and commoners. The “Sword Hunt” was an ordinance in which all weapons were confiscated from the peasantry. The “Sword Hunt” was a also means of disarming any minor daimyo, religious institutions, or obstinate village headman that may be in opposition to Hideyoshi and had the capacity for armed rebellion. “The victims were told that the swords, spears, and guns thus collected would not be wasted, but would be melted down to make nails for the enormous Buddha that Hideyoshi was erecting in Kyoto. (Turnbull, Samurai: The Story of Japan's Great Warriors)” The second ordinance enacted by Hideyoshi was the Seperation Edict of 1591 which created a total separation between the military function and the agricultural function. In other words, no samurai was to be a farmer, and no farmer was to behave as a samurai. The Separation Edict was form of social stratification that changed the nature of recruitment because farmers and peasants would no longer be able to rise through military ranks and become samurai. Hideyoshi would later launch two military campaigns against Korea which were both unsuccessful. He died shortly after launching the second campaign and left his five year old son to inherit his domains. Hideyoshi hoped that his son would succeed him but a member of Hideyoshi’s five-man advisory council, Tokugawa Ieyasu, had other plans. Ieyasu began setting up shop in the village of Edo and built an administrative and personal system as other warlords had done before him. The advisory council eventually fell apart in 1600 and once again, civil war broke out. The situation climaxed at the Battle of Sekigahara in which a fierce battle was fought between Hideyoshi’s son and Tokugawa Ieyasu. Tokugawa emerged as the victor and became the country’s new shogun in 1603. All daimyo were now to report to Tokugawa Ieyasu and the warring ceased. The position of shogun had finally been secured by the Tokugawa family and it ushered in a period referred to as the “Tokugawa Peace”.    

REFERENCES

11.      Turnbull, Stephen Richard.  War in Japan: 1476 – 1615, Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2002. Print.

22.      Walthall, Patricia Ebrey & Anne. East Asia: A Cultural, Social, and Political History, Boston, Wadsworth. 2014. Print.

33. Turnbull, Stephen Richard. , Samurai: The Story of Japan's Great Warriors, New York: Metro Books. 2014. Print.

At Street Level: #2

At Street Level: #2
by Damian Gomez


   The last time that I took to the streets for this project, the focus of my lens were the legal graffiti murals of downtown and uptown San Diego. This time I've shifted my focus and am placing more emphasis on illegal tags and throw ups. Most of the photos published here were taken in the downtown area of San Diego on a cold and wet December afternoon (with an exception of the wall on Harbor Dr.). I spent a considerable amount of time traversing on foot through the streets of downtown on this particular day and I studied each tag and throw up that I stumbled upon but they all left a lot to be desired. Anyway, without further ado, I present to you the second installment of At Street Level.

This door on Broadway is goin' off!

There should be a rule about catching double and triple tags at the same spot.

I used to write "surge" back in the early 90's, -true story.

                      Graffiti is so egotestical.

sk8 or die 

Dripping with style.

I ran into FOE one time while painting at Thrift Trader, super mellow dude. 

Ouch, ..that's going to leave a mark.

If you've never eaten a hamburger at Hodad's, you're probably a hemp wearing hippie vegan.

What a mess, -perfect!

Grammar is a commonly misspelled word. 

So fancy!

Some more FOE action.

Those look like some child bearing hips.

The streets of downtown SD are littered with STEPDAD's tags.

Interesting connections and flow.

Excellent!

Not so excellent.

Wizard and his dog.

Not bad.

STUPS is a maniac!!!

Haha!

Original or extra crispy?

How rad would it be if I got paid to take these photos?

Hork brings the heat!

I love the smell of solid marker.

Dripping with drips.

Like a cheese grater for solid markers.

I just threw up a little in my mouth.

blah!

I used to like "extra crispy" but now I'm beginning to think that "original" is where it's at.

The remnants of a wild night out on the town with some young bearded and pierced hipsters or just a lonely BMX bike?

Downtown, uptown, all around.

Where would the SD graffiti scene be without "T-Dub"?!

Ultra wides are fresh.

I'll be honest, ..I'm running out of ideas for captions so I'll just take another bong rip.

Had to walk past some pretty sketchy looking people to take this photo.

Just the way I like it.

So many damn photos!

My brain hurts.

San Diego graffiti is so confusing!

There is nothing quite like the feeling of a solid marker gliding across a smooth glass surface.

NER ain't playin'

Yup yups

Not bad.

I know some of these cats, -super cool.

(Harbor Dr.)

(Harbor Dr.)

Guzzle (Harbor Dr.)

Cyber (Harbor Dr.)

Homey (Harbor Dr.)

(Harbor Dr.)

Ceno (Harbor Dr.)

Bones (Harbor Dr.)

Soup (Harbor Dr.)

Stepdad (Harbor Dr.)

(Harbor Dr.)