When I returned to what had officially become the Glenn Anderson Freeway (after the former Congressman who secured federal funding for I-105) in March of 1990 I came upon a very different landscape. Houses had long since been cleared and the Path was starting to become recognizable. Now living on the East Coast, my photographic trips to L.A. became distinct notches on the calendar, allowing me to follow the construction in discrete, accelerated units of time.

The beginning of each trip always began with a solo drive along the “edges.” From one end to the other I would follow neighborhood streets until a curve in the freeway ended my path in a dead-end or a “Road Closed” barricade. As in 1982, it was sometimes difficult to determine the margins, especially when the freeway ran like an arroyo, lower than street level, as it snaked its way west. When blocked, I would jump to another street, looking for construction activity and discovering the neighborhood’s new landscape.

Once my initial survey was completed I would go back to spots I had noticed along the way to get a closer look. Often I was taken by construction engineers or agency workers to places I could never have reached alone. These people, who took an interest in what I was doing, are, in part, responsible for some of the pictures you see here. Other times I donned the “look” (often with the aid of a hard hat and safety vest) and simply walked onto sites to explore an interesting spot. From a sculptural vantage point, the interchanges of the 105 are some of the most amazing pieces of public art I have ever touched.

So enormous and detailed are the social and political aspects of this project, it is hard for any one person to grasp them in totality. The Final Consent Decree provided for a number of programs never before linked to the building of a freeway. Not only were houses and apartments destroyed by the freeway to be replaced, women and minorities were encouraged to join the construction process through training and hiring mandates.

Often, competing interests pitted diverse points of view against each other. It was as if community activists, Caltrans, people living and working in the area, the legal system, and government officials were put on a bus, and much like the encounter in the movie Speed (which used the Century Freeway as a backdrop), no one could get off until this bomb was defused. It is a bus trip that, while now on a smoother road, still has many miles to go.

Under the watchful eyes of Judge Harry Pregerson, who was instrumental in insuring the stipulations of the Final Consent Decree were carried out, the system seems to be working. A new chapter in the guide to freeway construction is being written but will this be accepted as required reading in future highway projects? For example, both legislative and ballot initiatives are pending which would eliminate affirmative action as a basis for granting preferential treatment to anyone involved in California’s system of public employment, education and contracting.

On October 14, 1993 the Century Freeway was officially opened by Governor Pete Wilson. The ceremony, under a carnival-like atmosphere, was accompanied by high school, college, and military bands, representatives from local, state, and federal agencies and members from the cultural backbone that is now Los Angeles.

That evening freeway participants commemorated the grand opening with a dinner honoring Judge Pregerson. Testimonials were given by home owners, former trainees and even people who were able to start their own businesses, evidence of the opportunities many received as a result of this court action.

Esther Keith did not attend these celebrations. While court-mandated programs which the Keiths were, in part, responsible for, provided a new chance for many, Mrs. Keith could only see the building of the freeway as a failure. She eventually moved a few blocks away from her original house. Ironically, Caltrans never needed her lot to build the transition road. Her home and all the houses on her block were demolished only to be replaced by new houses with new owners.

In a sense, Esther Keith was luckier than most. By holding out for such a long time she was able to get a better price for her property. But she remains bitter about the experience.

Victwa Shakespeare hoped to purchase her own home through the Replenishment Housing Program. Despite the deterioration of her neighborhood, she continued to re-rent from Caltrans in order to remain eligible for these benefits. Finally, in August, 1984 she moved to a low income, HUD sponsored town house she now rents in Marina del Rey. She never received any additional help from the Final Consent Decree but continues to be vocal about conditions in her new community.

While the building of the Century Freeway transformed many people’s lives, what have we learned from this experience? Like many things these days, the answers are neither simple nor easily categorized. Since first beginning my photographic journey a lot has changed in L.A. As traffic has reached constant bottleneck proportions, the need for new solutions to growth and transportation problems has become critical.

Rapid transit has finally returned to Los Angeles. In 1990 the Blue Line light rail opened from Long Beach to downtown L.A. Ironically it uses some of the same right-of-way that was once part of the original Pacific Electric system. Later this year the Green Line will open down the center of I-105. But will this alone be sufficient?

In my 1983 essay I spoke of the decay of community in Southern California. Twelve years later, the resolution of this issue seems even more crucial to the future of this region. The civil disorder of 1992 showed, in part, that we are all intrinsically linked to each other whether we acknowledge it or not. And the 1994 Northridge Earthquake was an admonition not to forget this.

The quake, which destroyed part of the Santa Monica Freeway, forced thousands to take rapid transit, ride share, and travel through neighborhoods never seen before. Hope blossomed that we would rise above this natural disaster to prevent one by our own making. However, as quickly as roads were repaired, commuters returned to their old habits. How many more warnings will we need?

Just as it is difficult to experience the total physical character of the I-105 from any one point, the sociological implications of the Final Consent Decree are equally extensive. While the specifics of the Decree were fought over by many sides, as Mary Watson, Century Freeway Project Coordinator for Hall & Associates stated: “it embodied the legacy of earlier civil rights and environmental movements in which a moral purpose and social values provided the impetus for change in public policy. The Decree attempted to serve people by increasing opportunities for economic justice and by improving the quality of life in communities touched by the freeway project.

“The complexities of the issues surrounding the Decree’s implementation presented an enormous challenge. We learned we could resolve only some problems and that there would be few perfect solutions. But day-to-day, we were carried along by an overriding sense that all of us were involved in doing the right thing. While defining this moral imperative was different for everyone, we shared a common purpose and understood that it was a good one.”

In the fabric of the I-105, where our stories have become intertwined, the answers to these problems lie in our ability to understand the strengths and weaknesses of the pattern we have woven. The story of the Century Freeway is a collection of many individual efforts affecting the entire community. In our reassessment of the American Dream, it is important to honor these individual voices while remembering the power of their combined influence.

Jeff Gates, 1995