It is amazing the tenacity with which one can affix oneself to a place, and the firmness of that fixation.
I have served quite an amount of time in Laundromats. We were destined to them at 2511 until the advent of my mother’s employment as a school nurse for LAUSD; at that point we were finally able to buy a washer and dryer. Thus, until the late ’70s, there we were at the laundromat near the Ralph’s on Slauson Ave. and Crenshaw Blvd. every week, toting dirty clothes in and packing the clean ones on the way out.
I found the Super Lavanderia on PCH one day when searching for a place to wash while staying at the Ruby Motel (1896 Pacific Ave.)–my first motel experience in Long Beach. And when I returned to the Super Lavanderia this 4th of July, I was never so relieved as to see the familiar Korean owners and their teenage son be-gloved and be-masked, busy as bees steadily washing down machines, cleaning lint traps and burrowing into the innards of washing machines with tiny hand-held scrub brushes.
I had just that day moved into semi-permanent digs and the state of my clothing on the 4th matched quite well the dirt and grime of that first room at the Ruby Motel.
I was not my happiest there at the Ruby–the room I was given was less than clean, but my displeasure with the level of dirt and grime fell to the wayside whenever I encountered the staff.
My initial approach that first night was filled with fear and trepidation. I was then new to homelessness in Long Beach, and in Philadelphia I had never had to stay at a motel. I was terrified that I would encounter prostitutes, johns and massive drug use. To say that I was afraid–Village motel voucher in hand–was the understatement of the century.
Nevertheless, I walked up to the office window and buzzed. I waited, afraid in the dark, when, God bless her, a woman walked up to the window. Kind, warm, and understanding, her demeanor and tempered briskness allayed all of my fears. No motel could be too horrifying if this was the management. I relaxed by the minute as we talked and I checked in. I didn’t like the dirt in the room, but at least I was no longer petrified about my safety.
I have often thought of the Ruby since that first night of motel-living in Long Beach. Whenever I have needed a motel room, I have thought of Tina, the manager. She has never rented to me again, but I still remember how I instantly relaxed upon seeing a woman, and a fierce one, in charge during the night.
I have moved on from the Ruby to throat-catchingly beautiful rooms at The Long Beach Motel (1063 E. 7th St.) that remind me of an India I’ve never seen: long, draped cloths call to mind mosquito netting and hot, hot days with no relief from the desert heat; beds so high off the ground that one must climb up, putting one’s thoughts on canopies imagined for a childhood room that never manifested; heated bathroom floors so that when one showers, one’s feet and body does not grow cold when padding into the bedroom.
Oh, I consistently thought of India during my time at The Long Beach Motel, never learning the names of the two managers whom I routinely addressed as “The Elderly Gentleman/Mr. Punjabi” and “the young man” whom I assumed was his adopted son (they did not resemble one another, but seemed to have a father/son relationship). It was the Elderly Gentleman who corrected the young man for giving me a room with roaches that first night–he gently reprimanded his subordinate in front of me and insisted that I receive the best room at the motel.
I worked hard to be respectful and earn the right to be in room 115. It was certainly worth the higher price (which, by the way, the Elderly Gentleman did not charge me).
I also spent a night at the City Center in a room with roaches there too, but upon complaint to the female manager (yes!!!) was immediately moved to a nicer, warmer room with a better shower, microwave and refrigerator.
I have since learned that part of the reason I am initially given poor accommodations is that I usually bear motel vouchers from the Village, and the managers routinely give the poorest rooms to those of us for whom non-profit organizations are paying the least amount. Such is capitalism in the USA, unfortunately.
Yet the best room I have seen during my entire time in Long Beach was at the Long Beach Inn (2900 E. PCH). Oh my goodness. A separate kitchen and bathroom with a FULL refrigerator and a real, live stove with an OVEN. Separate sink with counter and even a little table and two chairs.
I complained that first morning about the wimpy spray from the broken shower head and returned that evening to find a brand spanking new shower head under which it was a delight to clean myself the following morning. That room, with its TWO beds and 90+ cable stations was $400/week, but I did not complain once about the price. It was worth it, and it is a room I will never forget. That, and the daily conversations with Chris when I left every morning; he was so kind and talkative, a relief and a joy when you have been homeless and people either avoid your eye or prefer to pretend that you are not there, looking unkempt, unclean, or ill-fed.
Now, I have been graced with Social Security disability funds that have garnered me a room at The Liberty Hotel (1875 Cherry Ave.). Much, much less than $400/week, but I must share kitchen and bath. I only have to endure sharing kitchen and bath and the teeny tiny room for one week because when I checked in, a representative of the owner was there–and he heard my discontent.
Not only did he insist that the manager–who was perfectly willing to do so on his own–get me a new full-sized bed with new frame and box spring (which the manager then summarily put together and had his daughter vacuum the carpet when he finished), but the owner’s rep suggested that a room at another location would open up in the coming week with private kitchen and bath at an equally affordable rate for me, and that could be my permanent home as long as I came up with the weekly rent.
I wanted to kiss both of their feet.
Not so long ago, I had tried to sleep at “my” bus stop at Pacific and Broadway. I’d lost count of the number of nights I had contemplated going to Pacific Hospital to ask if I could sleep in their ER, the only hospital that would grant me that grace occasionally. And now, this morning, I wake up from the sleep of the gods in a full-sized bed with new sheets (purchased at Factory 2 U for $7) and new pillows (from WalMart, $4.97 each); a home of my own as long as I have the rent.
You have no idea what it means to actually lie down to sleep when one has spent days and nights trying to snatch rest sitting up and in public. There was something in the eye of Mr. Tony–the manager of The Liberty–which let me know this was a good place. A light, a brightness and sincerity in his eyes, and his daughter’s watching of my bags for what must have been two hours while I sought an ATM for the week’s rent and paid off the cab driver. She was so patient and kind with her gangly, ‘tweener legs, I was instantly enamored and promptly paid her $5 which she tried her best to honestly refuse, but I insisted.
Yes, I plan to leave the computer I am writing on from the Fedex Office tonight and go toward home with a smile on my face and clean laundry spread all over my bed. The African dresses I bought at Ross could not handle the dryer, so I laid them out to air dry while I have been out and about today.
Hoteliers of Long Beach, this Post contributor is grateful as all get out for the many kindnesses you have shown her. As always, why? Because joy is our birthright, homeless or no. Until again ….
Love and blessings,
Dr. Ni
P.S. Don’t forget to stop by Albertson’s (450 Long Beach Blvd.) for their every Monday Chicken Dinner Special, my homeless friends. For $7.99 on Mondays only you get 8 pieces of chicken, grilled or fried, or a rotisserie chicken; 2 sides (potato wedges, potato salad, or macaroni salad); 4 King Hawaiian dinner rolls and a free 2-liter CocaCola product. Don’t miss out; Mondays only!
Dr. Ni is an unpaid columnist, yet she is committed to ending homelessness in Long Beach. If you would like to aid in ending homelessness, please click here. If you work to assist the homeless in Long Beach, please click here and use the email form present there to request to be interviewed.