In Altadena, Where Many Black Families Became Homeowners, Displaced Residents Grapple with Grief and Uncertainty
This article was originally published on Jan. 13, 2025 on laist.com.
Altadena is one of those rare places in Los Angeles County where people of many backgrounds and ethnicities have been able to afford the American Dream of homeownership.
Situated near the base of the San Gabriel Mountains northeast of downtown L.A., Altadena was known for its mixture of single-family homes, restaurants and businesses.
It’s been a sanctuary for Black residents in particular: about eight of 10 African Americans living there own their homes — close to double the national rate.
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So when the Eaton Fire ignited last week and tore through Altadena and parts of neighboring Pasadena, the loss was felt deeply in the community and beyond — both by those who are familiar with its history and by those just learning of it.
A brief history of Altadena
Until the 1960s, Altadena was almost an entirely white community largely because of redlining, the practice of discriminating against people in certain areas by denying them access to financial support, like mortgages. People of color and and other underrepresented communities, weren’t able to buy homes in Pasadena or parts of Altadena because of this practice.
Major societal change came during the Civil Rights Era. Racist property-use laws became unenforceable and later legal actions banned housing discrimination outright, helping end de facto practices that locked Black families out.
This contributed to a "white flight" from the area as one of L.A. County’s first middle-class communities to include Black people emerged: The Meadows neighborhood. The area is on the western edge of Altadena and was originally co-owned by abolitionist Owen Brown.
Many Black residents in Altadena were displaced when the 210 Freeway was built in the ‘60s, but local organizations continued to encourage people of color to move in. Between 1950 and 1960, the Black population rose from less than 1% to 4%.
The community today is 58% people of color, more than 18% of whom are Black, according to Census data.
Major losses in a historic Black neighborhood
The Eaton Fire, named for the canyon where it first sparked, started the evening of Jan. 7 and by Jan. 13 had burned more than 14,000 acres in Altadena and parts of northeast Pasadena, reduced hundreds of homes to ash, and killed at least 16 people.
It is one of the deadliest fires in California history. The cause of the blaze is still unknown.
Of the confirmed and identified victims of the fire so far, many are older, Black homeowners who were rocks of their communities — people who held the community’s history in their lived experience and offered support and advice to younger generations.
Octavia Butler, a celebrated science fiction writer, and Sidney Poitier, the first Black actor to win the Academy Award for Best Actor, were once residents.
The loss is immeasurable.
By Friday, the flames had mostly died down in Altadena and the winds had calmed. Firefighters went block by block, mopping up smoldering hot spots in the rubble of homes reduced to charred foundations.
Porsha Large spoke to LAist last week while standing at the corner of Woodbury Road and Navarro Avenue, waiting to get to her grandmother’s home nearby. She knew that the house, which she said her grandmother bought in the 1960s for under $10,000, was a total loss.
The seven family members who lived there made it out safely.
Her grandmother, Maxine Morgan, was part of a wave of Black families who moved to Altadena during the Great Migration that started in the 1910s as they fled racial discrimination in the southern U.S. She died six years ago.
“She was a single mother from Oklahoma, four kids. And, she was the first Black grocery clerk in Sierra Madre,” Large said, tears in her eyes.
Over decades, the house, which once had paper walls, Large said, became a focal point for her family and the area.
“I'd say about five generations were raised in that house,” she said, her voice breaking. “It's always been a home — I mean, to the community, like, not just our family. My grandma opened her doors to anyone that ever needed anywhere to stay….
“The community knows my grandma's house.”
And now it’s gone.
The family members found shelter in an Ontario hotel room at first, then later in a two-bedroom apartment they own in Pasadena, Large said. But that’s a temporary solution, and one that keeps them removed from the community they loved and that may never again be the same.
“That's what Altadena was, a bunch of grandmothers and grandfathers that raised us all,” said Whitney Large, Porsha Large's sister. “We didn't go to parks and play. If you were raised right here, you came to my grandma's yard, six kids at a time.
“We played football and basketball and we raced up and down the streets."
'Angry' winds
A few blocks away, Tamara Carroll and her nephew, Akeem Mair, stood outside Carroll's one-story house. It survived the blaze. Many other houses on the same street did not.
“My neighbors three doors down... there's like six houses that were burned to the ground,” Carroll said, shaking her head.
Carroll said her parents bought the home in 1966. When the fire approached the house early Wednesday, she didn’t evacuate.
She said she just didn’t expect it to get so bad.
“Growing up here with the Santa Ana winds, we used to come out in the street and play,” Carroll recalled. “Me and my brothers, it’d be pitch black and we would try to see who could stand the longest without moving in the winds. But these winds were different. They were more angry.”
The winds that drove these fires deep into the flatlands were the strongest Santa Ana winds since at least 2011. Combined with an abnormally dry start to the winter, it was a recipe for disaster.
“We've never had any type of fire like this — they've always been in the mountains,” Carroll said. “We've seen fires, but nothing like this.”
Carlos Martinez, who lives a street over from Carroll, said despite the orders to evacuate he stayed as flames burned around his home. Ultimately, his home survived.
“I got 30 years living here, I worked for this house,” Martinez said as he stood outside his home last week. “I wasn’t going to let it burn to the ground.”
His wife, Ana Martinez, said the house is much more than just property.
“This is where my two kids were born and my third was almost 5 when we moved here,” she said. “This is our home. So it means everything. Everything.”
A promise to retain Altadena’s roots and character
At a community meeting about the Eaton Fire on Sunday afternoon, residents said they worried their community will change into something they don’t recognize when and if residents can rebuild.
In recent decades, rising prices have already changed the demographics of many of these neighborhoods.
Carroll’s nephew, Akeem Mair, who lives in the Meadows neighborhood with his 94-year-old grandmother, said he worries the fire will only accelerate that, deepening inequality.
“ We already had people start moving out of here because of the prices,” Mair said. “But now the fire…so it's just…I don't know. I don't know.”
L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, whose district includes Altadena, promised the community she wouldn’t let that happen, saying, among other things, that she would promote policy to prevent developers from replacing single-family homes with luxury condos.
“This is not a transient community, so I’m going to be looking at what we can do to protect those that are going to be priced out,” Barger said. "I’m going to speak with the governor to…suspend legislation that’s made it easy for developers to build dense condominiums…so that we can maintain Altadena the way it belongs.”
At least 100 people were at the meeting at Pasadena City College.
“We’re not gonna let what happened in Lahaina happen in Altadena,” Barger promised, referring to the situation after the 2023 fires in Hawaii, which became the deadliest in modern U.S. history.
Displaced people from that largely working and middle-class enclave have been fighting what’s been called “climate gentrification” since then.
Even for those who didn’t lose their homes, there’s a lot of uncertainty about whether they’ll stay.
"My intention was to continue leaving this home to the next generation,” Carroll said. “But I honestly have to say, this has changed my thought process. Although the house didn't burn down, it's going to be a lot to repair it. It's gonna be very, very difficult for people to become whole again.”
