The mantra came from Pacific Palisades to Malibu to San Fernando Valley to Altadena and beyond.
“We will rebuild.”
As Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass put it during a Wednesday news conference, as uncontrolled flames wiped out countless homes and businesses, “Make no mistake. Los Angeles will rebuild together.”
Elected leaders and city administrators across Southern California’s brutally fire-scorched landscapes this week have touted a similar message in news conferences since the Palisades and Eaton fires broke out.
Fueled by the fiercest of winds, the fires on opposite sides of L.A. County since Tuesday have destroyed at least nearly 10,000 structures and killed at least 25. Historical landmarks gone. Long-cherished homes, owned for generations. Rubble.
The mantra of “rebuild,” from press briefings to social media, seeks some semblance of hope at a time when thousands have lost their homes and their businesses.
But with so much devastation, the messaging — even the well-intentioned pledges of “building back” — has also come with questions about rebuilding.
Is it too soon? Could “rebuilding” rekindle the vital cultural and historical legacies that go back generations? Are the indignant pledges a hollow promise from a long-worn political playbook following disaster?
Some of the messaging reflects a modern post-tragedy template for American cities — be strong, stoke hope. “LA Strong” t-shirts and bumper stickers appeared swiftly, much like in other cities jolted by bloodshed or natural disasters.
But this crisis comes with waves of complications. If the money and energy is found to rebuild dwellings, schools, churches and businesses, will the resources, labor and supplies be available? And is it too early for spreadsheets and calendars, considering that Southern California is still knocking down flames, mourning the losses and trying to figure out firefighting resources and strategies that fell short?
How can a place with this much destruction even be rebuilt, and do people even want to stay to rebuild rather than leave altogether?
“When you say you are going to rebuild, yeah, I think you’re going to build back some houses. But you’re not going to rebuild that community,” said Kwynn Perry, who with her son, husband and dog Tendo, who evacuated early from their Altadena home on Wapello Street as soon as they felt the fierce winds.
“The concept of rebuilding, with people having roofs over their heads sounds great,” Perry said. “But it feels so devastating in every way, culturally, economically, historically.”
They landed with friends in La Canada Flintridge. By 2 a.m. on Wednesday they were in bed. By morning, friends had sent them footage of their house, which had been “leveled” in the firestorm, she said.
By Thursday, they were safe, staying in L.A. during an out-of-control fire in the community she loves. Perry was reflective, wondering about a future rebuilding of Altadena, an area with a robust and rich history, and known as a diverse community with a robust African-American population.
This is the birthplace or hometown of many famous folk including abolitionist Owen Brown, whose gravesite was designated a Los Angeles County Historical Landmark in December; Willa Beatrice Brown, first Black woman to earn a commercial pilot’s license in the U.S.; and in recent years, singer Marni Nixon; physicist Robert James Lang; and NFL linebacker Chad Brown.
From its founding in 1887 through the 1920s, Black Americans settled in Altadena from Georgia, Texas, and other states, establishing generational legacies that remain today. The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s and 1970s brought more Black residents to town, ingraining a love for education and social justice in their descendants.
Its close-to-nature and Bohemian feel, and distinct geography, has fostered an independent, “live free or die” culture, according to author Michele Zack, who wrote a booklet for Altadena’s 125th anniversary in 2012.
Can that culture remain in any kind of rebuild?
“Rebuilding, to me, I think of them putting up walls, plaster and a roof,” Perry said. “I don’t think of community, history and preservation.”
Rebuilding is easier said than done, and the term can often be used loosely by leaders in a time of crisis, said Jaime Regalado, professor emeritus at Cal State L.A.
Regalado noted that there’s so much that is not known, including answers about where the money will come from and how it will be allocated.
“It’s not really stated. It’s not really outlined. It’s not really focused publicly on where the money is coming from,” he said. The mantra of rebuild “really lacks substance because it’s been used so often. It has no meaning other than sounding good.”
Leaders have noted that significant help has been tapped at the state and federal levels.
President Joe Biden approved a fast-tracked disaster declaration, unlocking federal grants for fire management that will offset firefighting costs, and FEMA announced grants for temporary housing and home repairs, low-cost loans to cover uninsured property losses and other programs.
At the state level, Gov. Gavin Newsom’s executive order seeks to help cut permitting delays and ordered state agencies to identify ways to streamline the recovery.
For instance, suspending CEQA review and the California Coastal Act permitting for reconstruction of properties damaged or destroyed in recent Southern California wildfires. And it directs state agencies to identify other permitting requirements “that can safely be suspended or streamlined to accelerate rebuilding and make it more affordable.”
“When the fires are extinguished, victims who have lost their homes and businesses must be able to rebuild quickly and without roadblocks,” Newsom said in a statement accompanying the declaration.
But whether similar federal support comes in the long term, for a rebuild, is in question.
Tension is already flaring between President-elect Donald Trump and Gov. Gavin Newsom, a reminder of past experiences when Newsom negotiated with then-President Trump over disaster aid and Trump demanded policy concessions in exchange for federal aid.
That experience raised questions about whether Trump will continue the funding Biden set in motion.
Rep. Judy Chu, D-Pasadena, was in disbelief after touring the destruction on Thursday.
“There is help from Washington, D.C.,” she said, citing the FEMA grants. “This is so important.”
Chu said “wildfires don’t have a political party. That’s why president Trump needs to maintain the fire assistance from FEMA and also these fire emergency management grants.”
She said the Trump administration’s support will be vital to rebuilding.
“It will help our communities to recover, and the sooner this economy can get rolling again, which seems to be something he’s concerned about.”
Officials are taking a page out of the late L.A. Mayor Richard Riordan’s playbook that follows another L.A. catastrophe in a January long ago — the 6.7-magnitude Northridge earthquake in 1994 in the San Fernando Valley.
Riordan, then a new mayor in the giant city, was faced with L.A.’s greatest natural disaster, and was fueled by an intense urgency to break through red tape between and within agencies at the city and state levels.
When he learned that the only detour around a destroyed section of the Santa Monica Freeway involved three intersections in the neighboring Culver City, Riordan said, “Okay, fine, just take them over.”
Riordan explained his actions at a 2015 discussion on leadership at the Brookings Institute. “Another thing I learned through all this is perceived power can be turned into real power. People think you have power,” Riordan said. “For example, on the earthquake, a natural disaster like that, the state Constitution provided that the county would take over control of the emergency. I ignored that.”
The repairs on that part of the 10 Freeway were completed in 66 days.
Karen Bass said on the recent anniversary of the Northridge quake, “In the wake of the Northridge earthquake, Mayor Riordan set the standard for emergency action. He reassured us and delivered a response with an intensity that still pushes us all to be faster and stronger amidst crisis.”
Bass is already using the playbook.
“Red tape, bureaucracy, all of it must go,” she said in a Friday news conference, discussing what will be a long recovery. “We must not rely on the old way of doing things. We shake up the system and move forward with new strategies and possibilities.”
L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, whose district represents much of the burn area, said that as devastating as the fires have been she’s tried to refrain from using sweeping phrases about rebuilding.
“I try to give hope, even during COVID. I know what I’d want to hear. I don’t want to hear ‘hope and prayers.’ I want action. You’re not going to get those terms from me.”
At the same time, she said, “I realized my next four years are going to be about rebuilding, in a way that’s going to reflect the community.”
Regalado noted that leaders almost inevitably have to talk “rebuild.”
“You have to be there, where the problem is, and say something,” he said. “Saying nothing makes you look like you don’t care. What better to do than to trod out a tired old phrase like rebuild.”
Some areas will indeed rebuild. But Regalado questioned whether relatively less affluent and less politically powerful residents could see the reality of “rebuild.”
“History is not on the side of rebuilding those areas,” he said, noting the history of South L.A. in the wake of the riots in 1965 and 1992.
“I hope there is a rebuild effort,” he said. But community groups, philanthropic organizations and others need to come to the table.
Areas like Altadena have been culturally vibrant havens for generations of Black families, who avoided discriminatory housing practices in other towns. But fears have emerged that a rebuild could tilt toward gentrification in what were relatively less-affluent areas.
The Rev. Susan Russell, at All Saints Church in Pasadena has been busy this week. The church turned into a shelter on Tuesday night when residents fled their homes.
She’s got hope in a rebuild inspired by the Biblical stories of Hebrew.
“It’s all about rebuilding after the fall of the temple,” Russell said. “It’s all about love that is greater than death. The community is bigger that the buildings we build, the rituals we hold — that nothing is stronger than the bonds that bind us together.”
Russell and her family was evacuated from her Altadena home.
“I hear the fears that developers will come in, that the big bucks will come in … the gentrification. But what the community has the potential to do is be stronger than that.”
Perry meanwhile, the Altadena homeowner, is still processing the fact that her insurance company dropped her homeowner coverage last year, opting not to cover the area any longer.
She’s still trying to figure out the future, with a message for leaders.
“I hope that rebuilding comes with more than just getting houses up quickly and cheaply as possible,” she said, remembering the culturally vibrant town.
Leaders need to work to preserve that vibrancy — that “energy” as she called it.
“I don’t know the way to do that. But there’s a way. They’re smart people. They’ll figure it out.”
Staff writer Anissa Rivera contributed to this article.