The Beautiful Farewell of Sam Benton, The "I'm Blessed Man"

I have attended more than 100 funerals, but save services for my closest family, I have never been more moved at one than I was today for the funeral of a 62-year-old homeless man who was stabbed to death two weeks ago near Nickerson Gardens.

I called him the "I'm Blessed Man" here when I wrote of his  ignominious St. Valentine's Day death on 112th Street and Evers around 6:30 p.m., his body found laying face down, half on the sidewalk, half on a brown lawn next to a chain link fence and a plant. That's what he would say, "I'm blessed",  whenever a lady - the lady who found him laid out - would ask him how he was doing. I was struck how no one I talked to the next day in the projects, the tightest-knit community in town, knew who this guy was. So I vowed to find out.

He was Samuel Lee Benton, Jr., born Nov 4, 1951 and raised in Compton, on Piru Street. He graduated from Centennial High School and enlisted and served in the United States Marine Corps as a medic in Vietnam.  He was well-read, a jack-of-all-trades, a single man eager to help his family and friends. He was a car salesman at Sopp Chevrolet in Bell. But, after he lost that job, he started to skid. He lived in the small homeless encampment near the 105 Freeway and Central Avenue where he panhandled the off-ramps .He was a crack smoker.

And as addled by drugs as he was, Sam would tell anyone who bothered to ask how he was that he was "blessed."

"When i read what you wrote about Sam always saying 'I'm blessed', I thought, yeah, that was my brother," said Dianne Grey a few days ago as she and her sister and daughter reminisced about Sam Benton.. 

But, you never can know a stranger until you go to their funeral.

I didn't know what to expect as I drove toward the funeral at the Simpson Family Mortuary in Inglewood. Would there be only the family I had visited? Maybe Cousin Keith, who I talked to, also.  Maybe a few of the homeless, though i doubted that. So when I pulled into the packed parking lot off Manchester near Crenshaw, I thought maybe there was another funeral going on there as well as Benton's. I even asked someone "Is this for Sam Benton?" It was.. 

Inside the Chapel of Roses were roughly 100 impeccably-dressed family and friends of Sam who shed few tears, perhaps because the shock of the two-week-old homicide had subsided.

Still, on this very rainy day, most seemed surprised, if not alarmed, to hear the words of Sam himself. On a February 28th, nine or 10 years ago, Sam Benton was sitting on the porch of his "Grannies" house on Piru Street when friend and neighbor Kim Curry-Goldsby walked up.

"I want you to read this at my funeral," Sam told Kim, adding "Promise me you'll read this at my funeral,"  Curry-Goldsby promised she would with one condition; That he accept the lord. He did.

Today, Kim Curry-Goldsby, looked back at the American flag-draped coffin holding Samuel Lee Benton, Jr, and made good on her promise. 

"I can no longer afford to be nonchalant about my future. Today will be the day my life becomes on track. Life not is a total bust. I need to make a drastic change. I'm making a mistake only living one day at a time."

Curry-Goldsby went on reading more of Benton's words, then added that the paper was signed "February 28, but no year listed. It was either 2004 or 2005. I can't remember.  Anyway, his funeral was supposed to be yesterday, February 28."

Then the song "Goin' Up Yonder" by Walter Hawkins and Lady Tramaine came on. If ever a song and moment went together, it was right here and now.

"If you want to know  ...    where I'm going...., where i"m going ...soon,........ if anybody asks you....., .where I'm going....... where I'm going....., soon. ......I'm goin' up yonder...... I'm goin' up yonder....I'm going up yonder... to be with my Lord."

Man, I'm not religious but, Jesus, hearing that song in that setting. that got to me. I hope you listen to that song. Here it is. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGBr42HNlKY

After that song, Rev. D. D. Alexander spoke eloquently, not just about Benton, but about the homeless in general. "Sometimes we need to look at a person through their eyes. Sam, in his own way, was successful. Now Sam is done with the troubles of this world."

Others spoke fondly of Sam. "Sam had a lot of love," said a man who would only give his name as Dave. His sisters, his family, his friends would come by the off ramp and give him food, give him some money. They want him to come home, but Sam didn't want to be a burden to anyone." 

His niece Tanisha said her uncle was a good handyman and always there for her when she needed him. "Whenever he came over, I was like thinking, 'What do I need fixing?'"  He will forever be missed. I love you Uncle Sam.". 

One of Sam's sisters, who works near Watts and didn't want her name used, said  "He said he saw some some action in Vietnam, but not a lot. He didn't talk about it. When he came back from Vietnam i was so happy to see him, I just hugged him hard and i didn't notice anything wrong with him."

 Another sister spoke about how it was difficult to know her brother was out on the streets, but she had come to accept it. 

"A lot people, see someone living on the streets and think, 'How does someone's family member end up like that?'", said Benton's sister Dianne Gray. "I still don't understand it. But, Sam, he really was content. He really meant it when he said he was blessed. You're thinking outwardly he looks like a bum. But, inside, deep down he mean it. I heard someone said Sam thought  he was blessed. My brother knew he was blessed.'

And that plant his head lay next to as he bled to death on East 112th Street, four miles from his sister Dianne's home on West 112th., it was a Bird of Paradise. That's high drama, I know. But, it's true .

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LAPD Criminal Gang Homicide Division detectives Pete McCoy and James Jameson are actively working the case. The coroner's office said he was killed by a single knife wound to the chest. If anyone has information about who killed Sam Benton, call (213) 485-4341.

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Ruth Reichl Wins Top Guest Award, Singer Cries "Foul"

With a delicious finish. writer Ruth Reichl won the coveted Nancy Silverton Top House Guest of the Month award for February, traditionally one of the most hotly contested months of the year.

Reichl, who spent all of February at the Van Ness Palace. clinched the title at month's end when she bought and brought Michael Krikorian two more pints of the Salt and Straw's Sea Salt with Caramel Ribbons ice cream. "It was a lovely gesture," Krikorian said, adding that once Reichl leaves, he might have to get an actual job if he wants more of that $11 a pint Portland-made ice cream. "I know Nancy is not going to step up."

Michael Singer, another Van Ness Palace guest during February, protested the award, saying the pints were technically a bribe since Reichl herself doesn't actually eat ice cream.

"She was blatantly trying to score points with Krikorian to win the award." said Singer, who has lodged a formal complaint with the United Nations. "If you review the fucking tape of the entire fucked-up month I was more fucking entertaining than Ruth. I thought my yelling at that anus-hole Matt Lauer and that clown Al Roker was a refreshing way to start each weekday morning."

Singer also noted that he provided some of the only drama of the month by collecting parking tickets and going on yelling sprees, bashing into a parked car with his rental car's side mirror, kicking out a location scout photographer and explaining why he hates Ukrainians. 

"Ruth and Nancy sit around the house talking about restaurants all day, I probably heard the word "Spacca" 95 times. What the shit is a "spacca" anyway? Meanwhile, Krikorian is going on and on about the latest killing in the Nickerson Gardens. Whoa, what a surprise there!. .At least I provided entertainment."

A judge, who spoke off the record, said while the ice cream was a factor, there were other Reichl characteristics that really won her the award, which automatically qualifies her to enter the rarified Guest of the Year competition.

"Ruth had a terrific smile throughout the month, locked herself away upstairs and wrote silently, watched television episodes out of sequence and, perhaps most importantly, never once refused Krikorian's offer of a late night glass of wine or an early morning toast with that good butter."

Still, Silverton herself said it was her dog, Zeke, who gave Reichl the nod over Singer. "Zeke really loved Ruth's olive oil orange cake. He ate half a cake."

Reichl has not commented publicly on the honor, but a source quoted her as saying "I better have won. For the amount of money I spent on ice cream for Michael, I could have stayed at the Beverly Wilshire."

###

Nancy Silverton Top Guest of the Month Winner Ruth Reichl.  On right is Michael Singer in happier times.

Zeke likes this cake

Previous Guest of the Year Award (GOYA) winners

2013 -Sal LaBarbera

2012- Henry Chin

2011- Henry Chin

2010- Henry Chin

Note:; Known as "The Quiet Guest", Henry Chin may still be in the house.

Americans Turn To Turbocharging Ice Cream to Lower Costs

In an effort to combat the exorbitant price of ultra premium ice cream, a growing number of Americans are taking to "Turbocharging" less expensive brands, a move they say significantly boosts flavors levels while keeping overall costs down.

At least two people in the Windsor Square sector of Los Angeles are said to be regularly pouring and swirling a high-end caramel sauce into various Haagen Dazs flavors thereby enhancing immediate gratification, but costing three to four dollars less than current top-rated packaged flavors, most notably the Portland-based Salt and Straw's Sea Salt Ice Cream with Caramel Ribbons, the current 2014 points leader.

The swirling tactic, which is not approved by the National Ice Cream Association (NICA) and therefore not allowed in competitions, has focused almost exclusively on using the warm, nearly gurgling caramel sauce from the pastry kitchen at Mozza in Los Angeles, but advocates say that other additives could be used. 

"Souping up" just about anything is a passion - and livelihood - for millions of Americans who have formed industries on after market items for cars, motorcycles and even computers. That the practice should come to packaged ice cream was inevitable, especially with the high price of elite ice creams. 

So far, sources say the best turbocharging combo has been the Mozza caramel sauce and a pinch of  13 to 17 gros grains of fleur de sel on and into Haagen Dazs' sea salt caramel gelato. 

A spokesman for Flynn Duvall, NICA's long time president, said "so-called 'turbocharging' is illegal in competition and should be. This is the Formula One Ice Cream championships,. not some Sundae competition at a state fair. What's next? Sprinkles? Fuckin' bananas?".

###

UPDATE  Just before Krikorian Writes went to press, Sarah Clark, sommelier at Osteria Mozza and ice cream aficionado, relayed information that Ben and Jerry's had introduced four new flavors, including Peanut Butter Fudge and Salted Caramel, all with a "Core" in the center, their version of turbocharging. 

MOZZA CARAMEL SAUCE

I cup heavy whipping cream, 1 whole vanilla bean, 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter ( ideally Rudolphe Le Menuier Buerre de Baratte), 1 cup sugar, 1/4 light corn syrup

Now, either mix the items all together and cook 'em up,, or go to Pizzeria Mozza, pretend to look at the Mozza Cookbook on display up front like you're seriously contemplating buying it, all interested, but, instead, with a spy camera, snap off a photo of the recipe for caramel sauce located toward the end of that book. And while you're at it, read the acknowledgments.  

You Don't Want Sam Marullo Knocking On Your Door

“If I was laying there dead on some Baltimore street corner, I'd want it to be you standing over me, catching the case.” – Fictional Baltimore PD Sgt. praising Jimmy McNulty of “The Wire”

“If I were ever murdered I would want Sammy investigating my murder because he would exhaust everything possible to bring the asshole or assholes to justice.”   –True LAPD Homicide Detective praising Sam Marullo of Criminal Gang Homicide Division.

###

It would be nice if nobody in town ever needed the professional services of Sam Marullo, but if they did – and, sadly, some will – they will be comforted in their darkest hours by a man fiercely determined to find whoever caused their anguish.

Marullo formally joined the ranks of LAPD homicide detectives last week in a ceremony at the Police Administration Building when one his mentors, detective Sal LaBarbera, pinned him with a detective’s shield.

When Sal LaBarbera first told me that “Sammy is being promoted to detective today”, I was kinda stunned. I said, almost incredulously, “Sammy Marullo? I thought he already was a detective.  

Turns out he was a “detective trainee” for South Bureau Homicide for six, seven years. No one on the streets took him for a “trainee”. Marullo even joked at the ceremony that no one knew he was “an imposter”.

“I’m honored by the position and hope I can live up to the expectations of the greats who have taught me and who worked a much more violent and stressful time. A special thanks to my detectives mentors Sal LaBarbera, John Skaggs, Rick Gordon, Chris Barling, John Zambos, Danny Myers, and Jeff Notle. And to my district attorney mentor , and now judge Joseph Porras.”

LaBarbera saw Marullo’s potential many years ago.

“I know early on that he was the perfect candidate to work homicide, but it took a while to convince him ” said LaBarbera. “He enjoyed the fast pace of field work. We finally convinced him that he could transition his expertise into becoming an outstanding homicide detective.”

One supervisor said Marullo so loved working the streets that he had to be “sat down and guided into doing something different."

“Sammy was doing 90 miles and hour in a 25 zone, “ said Southeast Sgt. Val Valenti, watch assistant watch commander at Southeast who was the OIC (officer in charge) of the gang unit when he supervised Marullo. “He was real stubborn and he loved working the streets. He’s a real hard worker.”

A guy who saw him going that 90 mph, maybe even a 100, was Det. Mike Levant who arrived at Southeast in April, 2000.

“Sammy and his partner, Ben Perez were known for being two hard working officers who always got into great capers usually involving gang members and guns,” said Levant. “I worked with Sammy a few times and there were always high expectations. Every time we went out, we came back with a good arrest.”

Once he did start working homicide, Marullo partnered up with veteran who gave no slack.

“I'm very hard on my partners as I don’t think most cops should work homicide or have the ability to work it properly,” said John Skaggs, current homicide coordinator of LAPD’s West Bureau, who was Marullo’s first partner in Southeast. “But, Sammy adjusted very well as officers with south end gang experience are usually the best to step into homicide. During his first year in homicide we cleared every case we were assigned.”

Skaggs and others praised Marullo because “cares about having open cases, cares about getting killers of the streets, cares about victims and their families.”

“To be successful in homicide you can "never drop the ball", Skaggs said. “When your phone rings you answer it. When the soonest a witness can meet is on your day off, you give up your day off. Sammy understands this.”

LaBarbera said, “Sammy is the kind of cop who was both feared and respected by gang members. He is one of the guys who is going to continue the tradition.”

Det. Sam Marullo, in uniform, with Det. Sal LaBarbera

Will Chapo Guzman Break Out of Jail? And if so, When? Top 10 Mac Park Quotes

This morning I heard that the Mexican drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, head of the mighty Sinaloa Cartel, has escaped from a maximum security prison for the second time, Guzman was last seen about 9 p.m. Saturday in the shower area of the Altiplano prison, 56 miles outside Mexico City, according to a statement from the National Security Commission,  Chapo likes to take a shower before escaping. 

This is the article from February, 22, 2014, the day after Chapo was taken into custody. 

In a Los Angeles neighborhood where kilos hurtled from Joaquin Guzman Loera's Sinaloa dope empire landed hard, news that "El Chapo" had been arrested Saturday morning in Mazatlan was met a jaded attitude that nothing will change in Mexico. The vast majority of the 30 people interviewed in and around MacArthur Park thought Guzman would break out of jail.  

Here were the top ten replies to the question "Do you think Chapo Guzman will break out of jail?"

1.  "Yes" - Jorge Garcia, 20,  worker at a smoke store at 6th and Alvarado. When asked "When?" the man smiled and replied "Three hours ago."

2. "Who's Chapo Guzman? You can go now." - A mirror sun-glassed 35ish man sitting atop of table in the Columbia Li'L Cycos 18th Street quadrant of MacArthur Park overseeing a group of 15 cash-clutching men gambling who listened as he spoke and laughed at some things he said. When pushed ( very lightly), he continued,  "I don't even know if it's really Chapo they caught. Last time they said they had him, they didn't. Come back when we know it's him. "

3. "Guaranteed. God is the lord of the sky, but Chapo is lord of the ground." - Alberto Cortes, 27, shopper.

4. "It's no problem for Chapo to break out. Minimum, one week, maximum, two weeks.  Money Money " - Carlos Casllo, 30,  taking time from watching Barcelona play soccer on a television set near the 6th street sidewalk with 19 others  (Barcelona lost 3 - 1 to Sociedad. Big upset, I hear.)

5. "Not this time, He's a headache for the Mexican government." - A guy who looked around nervously when I asked his name. He wouldn't give it up

6. "If the US doesn't push it and bring him here, Chapo Guzman will be free in a couple months. The people in Mexico love him. He builds houses. He brings water and power to them. He brings the needs of the people to the people," Osveli Orozco, 45, owner of a internet cafe/computer repair/shoe repair/printshop/video store.

7. "Two, three months, Corrupt cops will set him free," - Christian Garcia, 19, student.

8. "It might be in the works now," - Patrick, tall, muscular, heavily tattooed 30ish man leaving Bank of America across the street from the park .  "But, if he comes here, he's a goner."

9. "There's no need to break out. He's going to keep running the business from a prison in Mexico. And they won't extradite him - Eric Ayala, 33, manager of a different internet cafe  

10. "I'm not sure how long it will take, but why wouldn't he break out again? What history has shown us with drug lords is you don't know who is working under them.  And Mexico is very corrupt. It's going to be interesting." - Jesse Yaxon, 25, store manager.

### 

When told Chapo Guzman had been arrested, a 30ish white man in Hancock Park walking a boxer and a pit bull said "Is he some kind of Latino pop star?"

Kinda.

David Rosoff Resigns From Mozza; Celebrations Turn Violent

Clashes erupted Tuesday afternoon throughout Los Angeles as pro-David Rosoff supporters clashed with the anti-Rosoff movement after news broke that the controversial general manager of Osteria Mozza had announced his resignation.

Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti urged the city to be calm, but put the LAPD on a citywide “Tactical Alert” as emergency rooms on the Westside began filling with injured demonstrators, many of them wounded by flying, two-day-old stuzzicinni toasts.

Rosoff, the opening manager at Mozza, had come under pressure to retire or resign from a coalition of woman's rights groups, Muhammad For Tips members, cat's rights activists, Helen Turley, Doctors with Borders, but without Stethoscopes, the Rollin 60s,  OPEC, The  United Oaky Chardonnay Front, MADD, Robert Parker and the remnants of Al Queda in Mesopotamia to step down in face of a growing scandal over his position on whither or not Tony the dishwasher should be rehired.

Rosoff had insisted Tony be rehired, but also demanded three Delta Force commandos be hired to provide himself with 24/seven security. Mozza director of operations Alex Munoz had suggested a compromise where Tony would be rehired, but two of his closest Nine-O Crip homies would provide security for Rosoff.  Rosoff rejected that idea flat out.

Rosoff had become a polarizing figure early in his career at Mozza, which opened in 2006, when he announced he was adamantly against servers dropping and breaking glasses in the dining room. By 2008, he had instituted a strict - some say dacronian - policy where by if any server, bartender, expo or runner broke a wine glass in Osteria Mozza, Rosoff himself would stare at them with utter contempt for up to seven seconds.

Former Mozza employees Megan Tropea, Pilar Arias, Brian Monahan, Nicole Avrin, Murray Rubenstein, Timothy Jenkins, and Daniel Flores all described that as "the longest seven seconds in modern history."

Mozza owner Nancy Silverton expressed surprise Tuesday afternoon upon hearing Rosoff had retired.

"I didn't even know he was still working here," Silverton said.  "Hey, will he still get me cases of red wine?"

Anticipating a drop in business due to Rosoff’s retirement, Erehwon, Gilt and UPS announced they would lay off up to 15% of their workforce.

Rosoff's mysterious girlfriend, rumored to be educated, would not return calls to Krikorian Writes. However, a source close to her said after learning the news on Kate Green's @Funwithkate Twitter account, she began "drinking heavily and mumbling, 'He told me he had a job. He told me he had a good job.'"

A spokeswoman for Mozza CEO Adriel "AD" Lopez would not confirm or deny Will Simons from Rochester, New York would become the new GM. However, a Facebook posting by Simons just hours ago stated he was "dazed". A friend of Simons, speaking on the condition of anonymity, dismissed that and said "It's normal for him to be dazed." 

As night began to fall on the east coast, President Obama addressed the nation from the Oval Office.  “These are difficult times for all of us, especially Michelle who loved 'D R', but, we are Americans and we will get through this."

A few advisors and Vice President Biden shook Obama's hand. However, the president apparently did not know his lapel microphone  was still wired on and Obama was heard laughing and saying   "Well, Joe, looks like it's time for some 'Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes' over at Osteria. I sure hope Simons doesn't like Bowie.  Sweet  Muhammad, I'm sick of that playlist."

David Rosoff in his office at Mozza.

The Ignominious Death of The "I'm Blessed Man"

Whenever Stella Hancock asked a disheveled man walking along 112th Street in Watts how he was doing, he would always reply "I'm blessed." 

Friday night, the "I'm Blessed Man" was stabbed to death at Evers Avenue and 112th, near the northeast boundary of Nickerson Gardens.

I've covered with care scores of homicides in Watts, but something about this one struck me in a different way when I looked into it Saturday morning. I guess it was because nobody I talked to knew him, nobody seemed all that sad or shocked to learn someone had been killed nearby, nobody even seemed to care much. And all that is extremely uncharacteristic of this community. 

Hancock, long-time Nickerson resident who now lives across the street from the infamous projects, came home around 7:20 Friday night to see a face-down man who she believed to be sleeping, his body slumped half on her lawn up against a chain-link fence, half on the sidewalk.

"I told him 'You can't stay here', but he didn't respond," said Hancock. So, her friend nudged him. "She said he was cold. We called 911."

Two, three minutes later, the paramedics arrived, and took the man away.  

An hour or so later, 12 miles north, I was with my friend - and LAPD homicide detective - Sal LaBarbera when he got a text there had been a killing in Watts Where?, I asked. He checked. 1500 East 112th Street. "That's the Nickersons,"  I said. Sal checked further and learned it had been a stabbing, which is rare, and the victim was apparently an "old man". I figured I check it tomorrow.

I did. Intriguingly, outside the Nickerson Gardens  gym, Mission Control of the projects, nobody knew who the dead guy was. When I later told some friends that Stella Hancock said he always said "I'm blessed', Big Hank, legend, said "Smoker. Crack head. They always say that. 'I'm blessed'. I guess all the shit they've been though and if they are still standing they think they are blessed."

A little while later, I headed by back home. on the Harbor Freeway listening to a John Coltrane CD I had brought in the morning. Track 12 came on. I had never heard it, "Dear Lord." It was achingly beautiful and it made me think of the "I'm Blessed Man."

Who was he? I thought about Harry Bosch.."Everybody counts or nobody counts." Last night, Det LaBarbera found out the dead man's name, Samuel Benton He was 63. i'm gonna find out who Sammy Benton was.

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A Gay Leader Emerges In A Watts Housing Project

Deshawn Cole came out at Watts' Imperial Courts project, blazing an inner-city trail

By Michael KrikorianThursday, Apr 4 2013

Asked if being poor, black and gay hurt him at the start of his career, author James Baldwin famously replied that his situation "was so outrageous ... you had to find a way to use it." Deshawn Cole knows outrageous and he, too, is trying to make the most of being a young, gay, black man — at Imperial Courts public housing project in Watts, where coming out has long been scorned as a manhood wasted.

"Early on I knew I was different," says Cole, 23, who lives at the project and works in its on-site recreation center for the Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks. "I was always a leader. ... When I saw someone who was outspoken or different, they had to be in my circle."  

As a teen, Cole says, "I know I confused people — it was fun. It was, like, 'This guy is doing cheerleading — gay. But he's playing football and fighting — can't be gay.' "

Gallup poll data show that 3.6 percent of blacks identify themselves as lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender, as do 3.5 percent of all Americans. But against the backdrop of the recent U.S. Supreme Court hearings on same-sex marriage, there's still a strong anti-gay taboo in many inner-city communities. Pew Research Center found that while Latino support for gay marriage has surged to 59 percent, the longtime low support by blacks for gay marriage has edged up to just 38 percent. In 2008, many Latinos and blacks voted in favor of Proposition 8 to ban same-sex marriage.

At Imperial Courts, which gained infamy as a violent bastion of the Project Watts Crips (PJs) gang, Cole, who supports gay marriage, is said by many to be the first boy to live openly as a homosexual. His mother, Cynthia Mendenhall, says, "De­shawn wasn't the first gay person in the Courts, but he was the first one to really be proud of it and come out" about a decade ago.

Cole sees attitudes — even among many PJs — finally changing. Subjected as a youth to countless sexual slurs — Cole estimates that "back in the day" he was called "faggot" several thousand times — he pushed back as a student at Ritter Elementary School and Markham Middle School, jumping into fistfights and finally revealing his sexuality to his disapproving father.

Cole has become a respected community figure whose principles have earned him an unusual form of street cred: tough, kind-hearted — and out.

Imperial Courts resident Ruben Quintana, 25, calls Cole "part of the reason things are changing around here." Quintana, who is straight, says, "In a way, he's like a leader in the gay rights movement the way people were leaders in the civil rights movement."

Mendenhall, known as "Sista," a former PJ Crip–turned–gang interventionist and member of the Watts Gang Task Force, explains, "He's been a mentor to a lot of young people, both straight and gay." When her son was small, "Lots of people told me he's just confused," she recalls. "They said it was a devil. They told me to pray our way out of this. They thought they meant well."

In 2007 Cole graduated from Compton's Dominguez High School and completed a certified course at Marinello Schools of Beauty in Paramount. He still loves to "do hair" — his own, when straightened, flows in a ponytail to his midback. But last year, he found a rewarding calling as a recreational aide at Imperial Courts Recreation Center, where he had long volunteered.

"He's a major asset to Imperial Courts," says Alea Douglas, a Rec & Parks coordinator. "He's talented, he's creative, he's dedicated and he's a team player. The kids here are lucky to have him."

Many who live in the 490-unit housing project, which is calmer than it once was, admire Cole. One day, as he discusses plans for the Dynasty Imperial High Kickers Drill Team and Drum Squad that he coaches at the recreation center, a little Latino girl arcing on a nearby swing calls out: "Deshawn! Deshawn! You know my eighth birthday is coming up, right?"

"Happy birthday, girl. When is it?" She gives him the date — it's more than five weeks away. "OK. We'll have a party."

When Cole was a student at troubled Markham Middle School, which sits almost in the bull's-eye of Imperial Courts and its rival projects, Jordan Downs and Nickerson Gardens, he remembers "fighting on two fronts," one over gang turf, the other over his sexual orientation. (Cole's brothers Tony and Darrian, both PJs, died violently.)

His mother recalls, "Security guards, some teachers, they would say in a low-key way it was his fault" that other students harassed him. "Like, 'Why does he have to dress that way?' or 'He's asking for it being like that.' But I never gave up on supporting his dreams."

Cole lived in particular anguish over what his strict, military-bearing father thought. "What father wants a gay boy?" Cole asks. "Do you think when a wife is pregnant, the husband says, 'I hope he turns out gay?' "

His father, Dwight Cole, 54, is stout and muscular, a no-nonsense, retired National Guard veteran. "Look, I felt he was gay, but I wanted him to tell me," his father says. "Everybody kept telling me, but I wanted him to tell me."

Once Deshawn did tell his father, Dwight Cole informed him that he could not join drill team or engage in other nontraditional activities. "I ain't gonna lie. It hurt," he says. "You want your boys to have kids. Carry on the name. Any father wants that. Even if your daughter is gay, you want her to have kids. That's just the way it is. But I love Deshawn."

In Watts, respect is vital. In Imperial Courts, a lot of that respect must come from the PJs. Cole is not an active gang member, but he acknowledges, "Just by living in the projects, you're already from the gang. So you might as well say, 'I'm from PJs.' "

It was Deshawn's fistfight in 2004 or 2005 with his brother Darrian that convinced many local toughs to grudgingly accept a gay youth in the hood.

As Dwight Cole explains, he'd told Darrian, " 'This is not your life. If your brother is gay, he's gay.' ... But Darrian wouldn't accept him." Darrian often belittled Deshawn, saying he was going to "beat the gayness" out of him. His dad finally told Deshawn "he was going to have to fight Darrian to get his respect." Cole decided his father was right. "I stepped up for myself. A 'faggot' is a sissy boy. I'm a gay boy — I'd step up to them."

Their wild fistfight "tore up the house," says his father. "But in the end, Deshawn had whipped him out of the house."

That violent episode is partly how Cole won respect at Imperial Courts. But, just as importantly, he freely embraced others. Close friend Paul Cook says that without Cole, he wouldn't be out of the closet. "He helped pave the way for me in terms of being gay," says Cook, whom Cole teases with the nickname "Paulette, my daughter."

There are still misconceptions and anti-gay sentiment in Watts. One area resident, admired by some for his knockout punch, explained toL.A. Weekly: "In the body there are male hormones and female hormones. In Deshawn's body it was like they had a war, the male hormones against the females hormones, and the bitches won."

Told of this theory, Cole starts laughing.

Another prominent Watts figure wondered: "Was he born this way or did he get 'turned out?' " — implying Cole was changed by a sexual attack. That gets a "Stupid" response from Cole.

Imperial Courts is seen by many as a gang-infested hellhole, a vast concrete corral one step up from homelessness for single mothers and unemployed men who hang out on corners to drink and sell drugs.

Some of that can be found at Imperial Courts. But what also is found there is a keen sense of community that's stronger than in the vast majority of L.A. neighborhoods.

One March evening, Deshawn Cole and Cynthia Mendenhall linger for more than an hour on a sidewalk in the heart of the project, saying, "Hi, baby" and "What up, boo" to about 60 neighbors who pass by.

Cole's mother explains, "It wasn't at all acceptable until Deshawn came out." But even as she speaks, several young people near the recreation center start yelling at an effeminate young man, shouting "Bitch!" and "You look like a girl!"

"Hear that?" Mendenhall asks. "That boy is gay, and he dresses and acts just like a woman. ... So they giving him a hard time. Deshawn tries to mentor him. Let him know he can't be too, what's the word —  flamboyant — around here."

For all that's changing, she says, "What we need is a gay and lesbian center right here in Watts. ... People in Watts, South Central and Compton, they need somewhere to go if they need counseling. They shouldn't have to go all the way to Hollywood. Hollywood needs to come here."

Handcuffed at Nancy's House, Alas, Not By Her

'Freeze! Put your hands up!' Oh, sorry 

At home, watching TV -- then an erroneous 911 call leads to a brief, tense encounter with the LAPD.

Los Angeles Times Op/Ed September 09, 2009 by Michael Krikorian

I was at my girlfriend Nancy's home in Hancock Park. She was out with a friend, and her 15-year-old son, Oliver, and I had just finished eating our superb 10:30 p.m. dinner -- al pastor tacos from the truck on 3rd Street and Normandie. He had gone upstairs to go to bed. The next day would be the first day of school after summer vacation.

I was watching a recorded episode of "Entourage" when Zeke, our golden retriever mix, got up and looked out the thick wood-and-glass front door. Now, this dog barks like an Akita on angel dust, wailing plaintively when anybody comes up the sidewalk, unless its family. So I thought it must be Nancy.

I looked out the front door and noticed a spotlight on our yard. I heard a helicopter. I opened the door, went out to investigate and closed the door so Zeke wouldn't get out.

"Freeze!"

"Put your hands up!" yelled another voice. "Put your hands up over your head. Now!"

I turned in the direction of the voices and said, "Are you talking to me?" I actually said that. And I meant it. Were they talking to me? Yes.

"Put your hands over your head!"

I did.

"Lock your fingers on top of your head."

I did. I couldn't really see them because the bright flashlights nearly blinded me, but it had to be the cops.

"Turn and face the door." I did, and then I had a frightful thought. Maybe it's not the police. Maybe it's some elaborate plan by a street gang to kill me. I have reported on street gangs for more than a decade and amassed a deadly share of enemies. I took a quick look at the invaders and could see they had police uniforms. No gang I ever reported on would go to that much trouble to kill me.

"Turn around and start backing toward me."

I marveled at how calm I was. I thought, "Just do as they say." Just do as they say. We all have heard stories in which the guy resists and gets roughed up or worse.

I backed down the three steps of the porch to the driveway, where I bumped into Nancy's car, parked with the top down. I got a closer look at the gendarmes: five uniformed LAPD officers with guns at the ready, including a policewoman who sadly bore no resemblance to Angie Dickinson in her TV cop days. Pepper Anderson could cuff me all night. The most impressive thing about this policewoman was the pump shotgun she was holding.

I hoped Roger, our next-door neighbor, had a video camera and was watching. This could go Rodney.

I was led next to the giant ficus tree in Roger's frontyard and was tightly handcuffed. Well, the cuffs weren't overly tight. I've been in overly tight cuffs in the past.

And that is why I wasn't all that upset, why I was so calm. Every other time in my life that I had been handcuffed -- and there have been several -- I was guilty of something. Here, I knew I had done nothing wrong. Not unless I was unaware that buying tacos at the truck on 3rd and Normandie was some sort of felony now.

"Spread your legs!" I did. "Wider." I did. "Do you have a weapon?" No. I was frisked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here. What's going on?" I asked. No answer.

It was like I had a good view of that bad show, "Cops."

There were three cops, guns still drawn, on the front porch, yelling and scrambling about as if John Dillinger were in the house. I told them Oliver was the only person at home and asked if they could call the house and let me speak to him so he wouldn't freak out. They called; he finally answered, and they talked to him.

After a few minutes, he came out. I yelled at the police -- for the first time -- to put their guns down. Oliver looked stunned.

He later told me his first thought was: "What did Michael do?" He had heard all the commotion but thought it was some TV show I was watching.

Finally, after what seemed liked an hour -- but was really about 10 to 12 minutes -- the cops were informed via radio that they had received the wrong street address. A woman down the block had heard a bang at her back door, thought someone was breaking in and called 911 to report it. In her panic, she reversed the last two numbers of the address. She gave them my address. So the cops were waiting to storm the house when I walked out to see what was going on. (The next day, the woman apologized profusely to me.)

A second policewoman, Officer Solley -- not the shotgun wielder -- was fairly pleasant. She apologized and kept saying, "You understand what happened and why it happened, right?"

Yeah, sure. You all messed up.

But I also thought about all the black friends of mine who have been stopped and harassed over the years for doing nothing wrong at all. This is what it was like. Being in the wrong place. In this case, at home. I was angry, but not outraged. I wondered how many people got handcuffed for nothing at Nickerson Gardens over the years? How many at Jordan Downs? Then Oliver said, "At least I'll have a good story to tell for 'what I did on my summer vacation.' "

As for Zeke, who barks furiously at the mailman, the gardener, the walkers, the joggers, even other dogs like they are all aliens from "District 9" -- but was quiet as Marcel Marceau in my hour of need -- well, let's just say that porterhouse bone I got for him is going to stay in the freezer for a while. I might even heat it up and gnaw on it while he watches.

Like just about everything in life, it could have been a whole lot worse. Oliver told his mother the story when she came home 20 minutes later, adding his what-could-have-happened, worst-case scenario.

"You know how you yell at Zeke when he barks a lot? How about if you were cutting a bagel in half and walked outside to see what was going on, and you had the knife in your hand and were yelling to Zeke 'Shut up!' " Only he suggested I might have added a four-letter word as I shouted.

I guess if that had happened, you would have heard all about this on the news already. Maybe the president will have me and that shotgun lady cop over for a beer at the White House.

###

Michael Krikorian covered street gangs and the LAPD for The Times. He recently completed his first crime novel, "The Southside of L.A.," and a children's book, "The Sunflower Who Loved the Moon."

http://articles.latimes.com/print/2009/sep/09/opinion/oe-krikorian9