Solution denied…

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Ted Hayes, 1994 

The activism of Theodore “Ted” Hayes, Jr. began in January 1985, when Justiceville, a community of homeless people in Los Angeles, was founded. It survived for five months, until authorities shut down the shantytown. Hayes entered 35-day fast in protest in response. In 1987, with producer Tom Bolema and the Butchers, he recorded “Ted’s Rap: Justiceville” about the bulldozing of the encampment.

From this evolved The Dome Village community, officially opened in November of 1993 with a $250,000 grant from ARCO. Located in downtown Los Angeles, the 20 Omni-sphere domes were a working prototypical model, key to a comprehensive plan designed to “break the cycle” of homelessness, optimistically named the Exodus, Genesis, Incentive, Initiative Plan (EGIIP).

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Rosa Vasquez and her two children at Genesis I.


“’The idea was to create a family environment…. We recognized that people needed to be in a social environment, but they needed a private space,’ Hayes told the Los Angeles Times. Residents, who paid $70 to $100 a month, were responsible for chores and could buy and cook their own food in a communal kitchen dome. Other domes housed washrooms and laundry facilities. Also on site was a dome for a library containing computers with Internet access.” 

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Photo origin unknown

The project received worldwide acclaim for its innovative concept and proposal for dealing with global homelessness. Attracting attention nationally and internationally, the Dome Village received visits from HRH Prince Edward of England, the Prince of Wales Business Leaders Forum as well as government and business dignitaries from various parts of the world.  

In February 1998 Hayes delivered to the White House his proposal for the creation of a National Homeless Plan to eradicate homelessness in the next ten years. In October of 1998 the City Council of Los Angeles, and in January of 1999 the County passed resolutions in support of the plan. But by November of 2007, the Dome Village was closed due to political and economic obstacles that Ted, his staff and supporters could not overcome. An article in the Los Angeles Times published on October 29, 2006, explained:

“Dome Village had paid $2,500 a month for the 1 ¼ acres, not including property taxes, said founder Ted Hayes, a longtime homeless activist who lived in a dome. But last year, one of the owners, Milton Sidley, wrote to Hayes, saying the overall rent would increase to more than $18,300 a month.

That spelled the end of Dome Village.

‘The property in downtown Los Angeles has appreciated such a great deal at this point,“ said Mike Sidley, Milton Sidley’s son and attorney for the partnership that owns the land. ‘It’s just no longer economically viable to allow them to remain there.’

The dismantling of Dome Village – near the Staples Center – ended an era of experimentation in which Hayes tried to give homeless people their own haven away from skid row.” 

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Skid Row, 1994

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Skid Row in the 1990s

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So the city couldn’t see this coming?

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So the city couldn’t see this coming?

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So the city couldn’t see this coming?

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So the city couldn’t see this coming?

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So the city couldn’t see this coming?

Hitting the skids with General Jeff

Skid Row’s Silver Lining … 

Many people associate the term “skid row” with an end-of-the-line, bottom-of-the-barrel location where the poorest of the poor end up, either mentally ill or strung out on one illegal substance or another. Life skids to a halt here, by this reasoning. But the actual origin of the name refers to the skid marks left by the lumber dragged through the streets in times long since past. General Jeff, known in some circles as the unelected “mayor” of Skid Row, insists that those who want to change Skid Row’s name to something less stigmatized, for commercial or other reasons, are wasting their time. Skid Row’s many problems, including its status as the epicenter of homelessness in Los Angeles and perhaps the entire country, does not mean its people and history should be forsaken or erased, especially not for public relations purposes. To the contrary, he and others fighting for the souls that live there believe that redemption will come not from sanctimony or patronage, but from an insistence on better representation and policies toward the community.

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If you want to at least scratch the surface of the mind-bending situation in Skid Row today, General Jeff is the right person to start with. The South-Central native has taken on what should be respected as one of the hardest jobs in Los Angeles– to keep things moving in a positive direction in the face of the common sense deficit that plagues the social service, political and law enforcement sectors… General Jeff does in fact fill the void left by a lack of action from City Hall, involved in all aspects of Skid Row life. Mayor or not, he’s been at the forefront of the ongoing move to obtain Neighborhood Council representation for the community. He wants the local businesses in the area to be more understanding and responsive to the residents. To steer the population away from associations with the lowest common denominators of popular culture he fights to have salacious billboards advertising the sex-industry taken down.  

Touring the area with General Jeff is a lesson in both history and civics. He is greeted in the streets with respect and love, fist bumps and handshakes. The landmark mural, created in the image of a traffic sign, is his bold proposition that Skid Row deserves to be respected and taken seriously as something more than the dead end it is dismissed as. Asserting sovereignty for residents who cannot afford or survive gentrification, to use one example Jeff looks at the fishing industry’s use of prime real estate within the Skid Row borders for storage and distribution as a symbol of inequality and the disconnect between the business world and the people. His movement would be happy to see the business owners take a more balanced interest in the welfare of those they are keeping off their properties with coils of razor wire, security gates and fencing, or just dull, windowless, undecorated walls. 

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 The door in the background was once the entry to the Salvation Army kitchen, located in one of the many early 20th century buildings in the area. That this particular building stands is in disrepair is a symbolic and ironic testimony to failed philanthropy.

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With four major missions and numerous other charity organizations, Skid Row on a Sunday morning features sidewalk sermons, with people lining up in several locations for meals and other services. General Jeff firmly believes that not enough scrutiny is paid to the operations of the charity industry, and also decries the “shell game” that is too-often played by governmental bodies at the expense of the Skid Row community, hindering real development and making it more difficult for the residents to rise up. 

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General Jeff is frequently approached with questions and concerns. He is known as a fearless and tireless representative of the community, and does not suffer fools gladly…

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Along with the tents and tarps that line the sidewalks on most streets in Skid Row, the most glaring sign of municipal neglect is the sheer volume of trash gathering in the gutters and elsewhere. One of many concerns is the pollution caused by this trash (which includes syringes and other toxins) entering the drainage system openings along the curbs … one wonders how often city sanitation trucks visit these streets.

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Outside the Hippie Kitchen, where meals and other services have been provided since the late 1960s…

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Mural in progress by Dimitri; General Jeff speaks adamantly about bringing positive imagery and lively colors to the community, to counter the oppressive facelessness and the outdated negative artwork that currently marks much of the industrial and commercial property on Skid Row.

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This is the cliché that has come to represent Skid Row. It is a common sight and a sobering reminder of the enormity of the task.

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A stark reminder of how dangerous life can be; burn marks on the wall where a tent was torched in retribution for an unpaid debt.  

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General Jeff

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General Jeff, the “Mayor of Skid Row,” before his very informative, frank, generous presentation to our documentary photojournalism class; his message is one that anyone interested in matters of urban poverty, homelessness, the situation in Los Angeles and especially the ins-and-outs of the ongoing full-blown humanitarian crisis on Skid Row had better learn. Not unlike any settlement where the inhabitants are essentially displaced peoples, Jeff is part of the heart that asserts its autonomy and demands self-respect. And not unlike, for example, a refugee camp, where the inhabitants have no real power in the face of violence and levels of degradation most only have to wonder about, his leadership is heroic and essential and relentless.