River of Angels

by Alejandro Morales

  About the time Oakley and Ernest won the contracts to work on bridges at First Street, Fourth Street and Lorena Street, the euphoria of financial success was at its highest point in Los Angeles and in the country. Leonard Adam Banac, Agatha’s father, made an appointment to meet Oakley and Ernest together. Oakley’s father-in-law came right to the point and advised them not to get swept up by the stock market craze.

  “At the bank, we’re moving assets from stocks to cash. Our stock holding will be minimal, ten percent at most. At the moment stocks are grossly overvalued, and soon interest rates will begin to rise. Once this happens, the bear will start stirring, causing stocks to come down. I don’t know when or how fast, but they will come down. I just have a strong feeling about this. I’m not sure, but I suspect that there’s not enough money in circulation to cover the paper banks are holding. It may not, but if the stock market crashes and there is a rush on the banks to cover clients’ accounts, the banks will close their doors. I’m advising our bank to convert our holdings to cash and advising our depositors and financial investors to do the same. I’m not taking the chance of losing our paper gains. If a crash occurs, I want our bank and us to be cash rich. Ernest, you might want to be firm with your uncle. Follow my strategy.”

  Oakley and Agatha took Leonard Banac’s counsel and liquidated their stock portfolio. The American National Bank of Los Angeles made sure that all depositors’ accounts were covered with hard cash. Many of the bank’s clients resisted Banac’s advice. Some called him crazy and took their accounts and/or portfolios elsewhere. Mr. Banac informed stockholders that if and when stocks started to collapse in value, they would be difficult to sell; accordingly, the bank would not pay full price at the time of sale, and also a sale transaction fee would be added. On a printed sheet, information was given to customers entering the bank and offered again upon exiting.

  Ernest Keller was at first hesitant to heed Banac’s suggestions, but after talking with Allison, he too sold his stocks and held cash only, a move that Uncle Philip considered unreasonable. Uncle Philip did not listen to his nephew, nor to his live-in friend Marco, who repeated the warning that the fast pace to riches by way of the stock market would not last forever. Philip called him a doom-monger, a term he picked up from the exuberant investors at the Aryan Club. Giving no explanation, Marco packed his bags and left the house, leaving Philip rich and alone. After losing Marco, Uncle Philip committed himself to his associates at the Southern California Aryan Club, where he accumulated a large monthly bar tab and bought more stocks on margin. His nephew had reminded him again about Leonard Banac’s advice, but Uncle Philip would not take recommendations from a man who had allowed his daughter to date a half-breed Mexican Indian.

  Uncle Philip’s stock portfolio grew to millions of dollars, and, as it did, his confidence in his decision to stay fully invested in the stock market seemed justified. Driven by bitterness, greed and stubbornness, Uncle Philip stayed the course, drinking bootlegged liquor and swallowing the nativist philosophy of the Southern California Aryan Club. Meanwhile, he noticed that Allison hardly talked to him, that Ernest seldom sought him out and that his nephew’s daughters seemed to be afraid of him. He blamed these attitudes on Albert, because through him came the influence, wealth and power of Oakley and Agatha Rivers and her family, the Banacs. When Uncle Philip visited his nephew’s house, his stomach turned at the sight of Albert with Louise at his side. He continued to warn Ernest that Albert would ruin Louise and that Ernest had to prevent them from seeing each other. Allison and Ernest cut him off when they had heard enough. Uncle Philip would cease talking, aware that Allison would ask him to leave the house if he persisted. For Ernest and the family’s sake, Allison still made the effort to maintain a shred of respect and civility toward the sickly-looking Uncle Philip. Allison noticed that he was smoking more than usual, eating very little, drinking too much and losing weight. As he boasted about his financial investments and how his portfolio had grown, Uncle Philip’s body seemed to be withering away.

  Uncle Philip Keller would fall into silence as he observed his nieces. He watched them to a point where the girls felt his eyes on them. They would turn to see him, and he’d smile at their acknowledgment. For an instant, he’d forget the outside world, and for an instant, with their eye contact, his life would be filled with the joy of them. It was extraordinary how much the girls read, how smart they were. Louise read book after book. When he visited the house, he often found Louise reading, concentrating on her task so much that she did not notice him in the room. Occasionally, after ringing the doorbell several times, he would enter when nobody answered and walk into rooms, calling out names until he found someone. If they saw him first they’d say hello, but it happened many times over that he’d walk into a room where a member of the family sat so deeply engrossed in a book that they did not notice or sense his presence. He would stand hypnotized until they interrupted his gaze.

  This happened more and more, but monitoring the girls was not his only preoccupation. Uncle Philip Keller’s behavior became strange, eccentric, and this included his obsession with racial purity. Just about every day he met with members of the Southern California Aryan Club, often with members who had returned from Germany with reports of what was happening there. He learned that new philosophies to make the world a better place for all humanity were being developed in Germany. He admired the German people for wanting to make their country purely Aryan, a country for Germans only. He donated money to bring speakers from Europe to inform the club about the political powers that were mobilizing Germany and, eventually, all of Europe. As he learned more, he became bolder and was convinced that he had to shepherd his family away from influences that were ruinous to their purity. He would visit his nephew’s home to watch over Louise, who in his mind was being led astray by her parents’ relationship with the Rivers family. Louise was taken aback by her uncle’s behavior, his monitoring of her attitudes and actions, where she spent her time and with whom.

  Uncle Philip was sure that Ernest and Allison Keller and their girls were being ruined by Oakley and Agatha Banac Rivers and their children. He had to do something before the family was beyond salvation. Louise was in the greatest danger, in love with the half-breed Albert Rivers. Alone and desperate, Uncle Philip felt compelled to do something to prevent her violation by Albert’s polluted blood. Now, when he came to visit, he searched for Louise, to study her body. He prayed to the Almighty that her figure had not changed.

  Finally, Allison confronted him, told him to stop sneaking in to spy on the girls. “What is happening to you? Lately you have been acting crazy. Stop it, or don’t set foot in this house again.”

  No matter, Uncle Philip continued to observe his nieces closely. It was his duty to protect them, to somehow keep Albert Rivers and Louise apart. This became his mission in life. After all, he had brought her father and mother to the West. They could have stayed in Philadelphia and never have been exposed to these human aberrations. To him, his brother in Philadelphia had entrusted Ernest and Allison as well as the children they were destined to bear.

  Now, with his wealth, he was able to protect them even more by contracting men, recommended highly by club members, to be his eyes, to follow and observe Ernest and Allison, and the girls. They could not escape him now. They were under his view at all hours. Every day he imagined where they were, what they did. Uncle Philip’s hired eyes came to him and described in detail what they had seen. And what they had seen, in particular what Albert and Louise did, was most disturbing. As a member of the Aryan community, Philip did not believe in curses, but he had to take seriously the reports from his agents. Louise and her parents were victims of a kind of curse, a spell that only could happen in these parts of the country, where mongrel peoples and cultures believed in devils and spirits. The spell moved those he loved further away from him, and his riches could not conquer that growing distance.

  FOR ALMOST A year and six months, the people from the edges of the
Los Angeles River watched the ascension of the two majestic bridges that spanned the fickle river. In the view of many, the new bridges were friendly creations that allowed them to cross the river when it decided to be a river and its water ran swiftly, steadily lapping at its highest edges, threatening to overrun its borders and flood areas for miles. The curious often brought lunch and sat or parked in their cars to watch the intricate construction of the bridges. The workmen walked high on the bridge trestles, climbed like spiders the webs of scaffolding that covered the tall concrete towers. Some workers waved back at the picnickers gathered on the river banks. Artists carved out the sculptured images on the concrete decorative panels along the bridge walls high across the river bed. The nearby Boyle Heights residents seemed to take pride in the building of its nearby bridge. They developed a kind of joy of ownership by living so close to such a magnificent architectural structure. Slowly the cranes came down, were loaded onto flatbed trucks and hauled away. When the scaffolding fell away, the tractors and trucks were gone, leaving only tire tread marks deep in the dried mud. The crews no longer crawled over what ascended from one day to another, upward to the sky; it was as if it had stood there always. The Fourth Street bridge was complete, decorated at its beginning and end with large red, white and blue ribbons and flags. Torches and kerosene lights burned all night, while a stage was built on the west side of the bridge that had been completed ahead of schedule.

  The bridge’s opening ceremony was a festive event for the City of Los Angeles, the city council, the mayor, city administrators, prominent families and business owners on both sides of the river that the bridge brought together. The workers and neighbors came to the all-day street carnival around the stage and in the streets near the west side of the bridge. From both sides of the river, people kept coming to share in the festivities. The mayor, county administrators and railroad officials cut a red, shiny silk ribbon, and a few short speeches were made, after which the mayor introduced the builder, the president of Keller Construction, Mr. Ernest Keller.

  “I want to thank the city, county and railroad, and especially the people of Los Angeles for making the Fourth and Lorena Street projects a reality. I want to thank the work crews who labored and took pride in constructing this magnificent bridge. I want to acknowledge and thank Mr. Oakley Rivers and Mrs. Agatha Rivers of Sun Construction for their help and encouragement to complete this project. They are very generous and kind people. I do not consider them my company’s competitors but—I sincerely mean this—my colleagues, working towards the same goal, which is to make Los Angeles a better place to live. For Keller Construction, this is a very proud moment, and I want to bring forward my wife, Allison, and our daughters—Louise, Gloria, and Emily—to share in this moment. My family and the workers at Keller Construction dedicate this bridge to the people of Los Angeles. Thank you, and God bless you all!”

  As the person not acknowledged, standing surrounded by members of the Southern California Aryan Club, Uncle Philip was bothered to no end. After his nephew took a seat on the stage, Philip Keller paced from one side of the bridge to the other. Ernest had not even glanced his way! It was as if his uncle did not matter anymore. Back at the celebration, Uncle Philip focused his gaze on Oakley Rivers, whom he considered a false American, a man who camouflaged his identity, who never declared publicly that he was an Indian, a Mexican, an upstart greaser.

  “After all I did for you! I brought you here!” he yelled at the stage.

  A few people in the crowd turned to the man who acted crazy, who was being nudged toward the back of the crowd. Several members of the Southern California Aryan Club pulled Uncle Philip away and invited him for a drink downtown. Uncle Philip had a few quick rounds with his friends and finally started to relax. He let go of the tension in his neck, his shoulders, his arms, and tried to hide from his friends the tears that were welling up and trickling down his face.

  “Damn, after all I did for him! I brought him to Los Angeles. After all I did for Allison, for the girls!”

  EARLY 1929, ABOUT the time of the opening of the Fourth and Lore-na Street bridge, Sun Construction announced the completion of the First Street bridge. Oakley had ordered the construction crews to start the final clearing and cleaning of the site. Laughing while he gave instructions to Albert, Oakley sent him with a crew to finish loading trucks with the wood scraps, bent rebar, broken concrete and trash that had been pushed into large piles by bulldozers. Within a few days Oakley’s crews had transported the waste to landfills in the hills above City Terrace. The city council was not sure about having another opening ceremony for a bridge. Oakley told them to save their money. He insisted on a simple ceremony in the council chambers.

  FOR SEVERAL MONTHS Leonard Banac had ongoing meetings with his family to discuss the status of their personal and business investments. They had a sense of urgency about making changes to their portfolios. Leonard was more convinced about disinvesting after receiving letters and telegrams from long-time friends—veteran bankers and stockbrokers working in New York—claiming that the market was about to make a major correction because stocks had been run to extremely high prices. They feared the overvalued bubble was about to burst. Leonard had warned his family and also informed friends, including Oakley’s business associate Ernest Keller, about the coming collapse. Oakley had been present at bank gatherings where Leonard Banac described past collapses and predicted that history was about to repeat itself, perhaps catastrophically. Most listeners eyed each other, others simply laughed. Most did not take him seriously. Many clients transferred their portfolios to other banks. At one meeting, twenty-five did not heed his advice and held on to their stocks, and only ten converted their holdings into cash. Leonard Banac’s bank was solvent and rich in cash. When his son-in-law completed the First Street bridge project, Leonard Banac and all his family were secure.

  In Oakley Rivers’ opinion, Leonard Banac was a genius. He missed predicting the catastrophe by ten days. He got the month right, but the day and date were off. October had started hot and sunny, but by the second week it turned cool and grey. The mood of the people became nervous, short tempered, and later that month volatile and unpredictable. Small businesses were letting their employees go. Small to mid-size companies laid off workers. Lines of depositors who wanted their money started to form at numerous banks in Los Angeles. By October 28, 1929, grown men in rich cashmere suits walked the streets of Los Angeles, sobbing. For those who remained fully invested with millions in stocks, within twenty-four hours their world of wealth and power had fallen into a deep black abyss of debt, a debt so immense that their total worth could not balance it. These men and their families became penniless, and many became homeless.

  In Hancock Park, several families on Agatha and Allison’s street had lost everything and were forced to leave their homes. The banks gave them only a few days to gather a few personal items and vacate. There were drastic consequences: jail for the husband and possibly the wife. The children would be taken by the County Child Protection Services, which meant an orphanage or a foster home. Deportation was a possibility for those who were from abroad. The third possible result was living in a car or truck, waiting for the next government handout. The house, furniture, clothing, jewelry, dishes, rugs, wall hangings, items stored in drawers, even toys—absolutely the entire inventory of the family home—would be confiscated by the bank. Their automobiles were often repossessed. Many had no transportation except for Sol, who helped the children climb onto the back of his pickup truck, while their parents rode in the front cab.

  Through the front window of Agatha’s house, she and Allison observed their neighbors pack up and leave. A mother of five children was hardly able to walk. Her husband tried to remain strong, but he broke down several times as Sol loaded the few suitcases they were allowed to take. Sheriffs were present to supervise the eviction.

  “Did you give him the money, Allison?”

  “He was too proud to take it. I slipped it into her purse.�
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  “They have nothing. The girls, what will happen to the children?”

  “Sol is taking them to the train station. They have enough money to take the train to San Diego and stay in a hotel for a few days. She told me they were going to a small town on the border. Her brother has a ranch down there. They’re all going to work for him as ranch hands, I suppose.”

  Allison followed Agatha into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. They sat down at the table, feeling that their world was coming to an end.

  “They are lucky. They have a place to go to. They have family able to help them.” Agatha said as she offered a slice of chocolate cake to Allison.

  “They say that men have taken their lives, committed suicide! I just could not do that. Nothing could drive me to take my own life. I would never hurt my children like that.”

  Agatha listened. She nodded, agreeing with her friend.

  “Agatha, please thank your father. We are forever grateful.”

  “He’s the smart money. We were lucky we listened and took his advice. It was so tempting not to. Thank God we did.”

  “Ernest told me your father shorted stocks and made a bundle, and his stock is still making a profit. Is that right?”