By Baraka Noel
A sky tinged with lilac blessed the journey to 6th Street. Cooling air, a welcome respite from the day’s
heat.
Leashed dogs. The trolley. A gentle breeze animating flags around the neighborhood. Curbs lined
with trash bins and dogs barking, distantly. Birds flocking to rooftops. Lights hung festively across
the avenue.
Young folk in black t-shirts, carrying skateboards. Masks on a few faces. Folks talking on the street.
“What’s your dream job?” A lively back and forth. “Dream? That means, like, everything … right?”
The Tuna Fish Painting Co. held a pop-up shop by The Crazy Fish Grill, bookended by Salsas
Chingona and Latina Baker’s spooky desserts in their street vendoring debut.
Fresh copies of Record Collector magazine were delivered outside the Grand Emporium. A sign by Heart’s Respond welcomed visitors to a small gathering, where a fellow in a little chair drew upon an easel while a few musicians tuned their instruments.
One couldn’t help but notice the conviviality of Compagnon Wine Bistro. Thomas Compagnon
shared his strong opinion that First Thursday “takes all the parking away… pushes our regulars
away.” He explained, “Even though we were busy last night, that wasn’t always the case for First
Thursday… to give more incentive they have to come up with new ideas and have more art galleries
open later. The last few months, it’s been pretty low… We’re better off any given Thursday… I
think it’s a great event… It’s been going on for so long … Enough of the food trucks being close to
the restaurants… If people are going to be coming for the food trucks; it shouldn’t be called the art
walk. It should be the food truck festival.”
Thomas went on to talk about his restaurant. A “french bistro in downtown San Pedro … French
food … everything from scratch, including all the stocks and braising… local supplies … We use
Alma Farms, a local farm located behind Target. They are becoming a big part of the community
[with] kids programs … teaching kids to grow and plant.”
Friendly conversation bubbled out from the curated fancy of the Art and Curiosities Shop.
Art appreciators mingled in hushed tones at Menduina Schneider. The gallery’s curators, Alejandra
and Jorge Schneider asked passersby to “immerse [themselves] in the magic of finding works that not
only will marvel … but also transform.”
A band called Douglas was booked to play outside, on the corner of 6th and Mesa. Their Boogie amp
stacked onto a Fender. Their bassist locked in with his drummer, back turned on a public who
filtered the performance through lit phone screens.
The singer warned his audience to “hold on, it’s almost here” as a large brown shaggy dog arrived;
tongue bouncing to the tempo. “Hold on, it’s coming.”
Listeners hovered nearby. One barefoot dancer holding a stuffed monkey. The air of a club, waiting
for the drop. By the food trucks, a crackling loudspeaker blared out: “Nine!”
Curbside, the incongruous offerings of Cousins Maine Lobster. Grilled cheese seafood and their
hypnotic video loop, like something in the realm of Philip K. Dick. Surrounded by smiling families
and wise-eyed adolescents; a screen displayed its narrative concerning cousins, Jimmy and Sabine.
Hobnobbing with the likes of Jon Favreau and Freddie Prinze Jr, thanks to their success on Shark
Tank.
The street vendor block party went on: Inglourious Funnels. Crepes Bonaparte. Deli Doctor. Bison
Burger. Eagle Rock BBQ.
Down the block, a man seemed to prophesize. “They know when a new ice age is coming,”
murmured the solitary elder gentleman. LA Harbor’s Masonic Lodge manned a table outside
Goodfellas sports bar.
Further along, sidewalk capoeiristas chanted melodies against percussive polyrhythms.
Tambourines, maracas and atabaque. Maculeles held upright. Scooters and skaters. Street
musicians, representing Capoeira Batuque South Bay.
Buono’s offered up free slices on their corner of Centre St. An instant hotspot; teens chasing one
another, sharing tater tots.
Off The Wall Art Designs opened its doors with a candy offering. Saucer eyed owl in the window.
Gregory Koosed welcomed visitors and heralded Halloween. A spunky gallery; its signature texture
and cobbled-together style. The two-wheeled muscle power of a versus bike and splash-toned
Interceptor motorcycle on display by the front entrance. Outside, passersby were greeted with
candy and warnings of thievery.
Nearby, next to Crimsin Cocktails stood a Tim Burtonesque purple-clad scarecrow slash skeleton.
Cake pops, baked with love, hawked on the sidewalk by mobile young vendors. What appeared to be
a child-run mini bodega out front of Badfish Clothing Company. Cinnamon buns served up in the
entrance of Old School Vintage.
The singer from Douglas inquired, “Anybody seen any UFOs lately?” before an ode to hitting ‘Rock
Bottom’. The First Thursday sidewalks were resplendent with Hello Kitty and Pokemon, totes and
mini satchels; laughter and moving shadows. Earrings for sale.
A cheerful Red Cross Club posed for photographs beside Sunken City Books. In an adjacent tent,
visitors were met with offerings of bubble tea. Gostosas catering truck nestled away from the
sparkling lights of town as the Roundtrip Collective displayed their wares.
Jovial friends consoled each other, “It’s not always sunny, but it will be tomorrow.”
Backdoor Studios invited entrance into the workspace of Jules Wolfe and her lushly colored denim
jackets. She shared her process. “Oil on canvas. Everyone thinks they’re acrylics, but they’re not …
Oil is more vibrant, more rich. Acrylics dry, and your brushes get wrecked.”
Out in the hall, hung a stark unframed canvas of wheat-pasted news and magazine clippings. Fresh
rosemary for interested pedestrians.
Meeting goers piled out of the Grand Annex Concert Hall. A man in sunglasses, on a bicycle,
tendered an invitation to The Sardine’s newly opened next-door space. Douglas gained traction with
a mix of locals caught in the groove. Karaoke echoed from Brouwerij West.
The trolley stopped at Mesa and 7th; passing Godmother’s Saloon and approaching the harbor.
Rhythm and blues-laced pop sounds serenaded the smattering of convivial travelers.
Trios of dark-haired teenagers climbed aboard. A night of masks and painted faces. An impromptu
sidewalk capoeira crowd swelled. The trolley’s driver, Tony, stopped at 10th and Mesa.
And night continued, as everybody moved along their path.