I remember walking home from Hollenbeck Junior High, heading west along Sixth St. and reaching Hollenbeck Park. Sixth St. crossed Hollenbeck Park via a bridge that was closed to automobile traffic and used only by pedestrians or bicyclists. The bridge connected St. Louis Street on the east side of the park with Cummings Street on the west, crossing over the lake in Hollenbeck Park.

Often times my friend Henry and I would cross the bridge by descending the slope leading to the lake and climbing up on the bridge supports. Then we would wind our way along the beams beneath the bridge, balancing ourselves on the straight-aways and hugging the vertical supports as we went around them crossing the lake in our daring manner.

I guess it’s a thing kids do to demonstrate their assumed invincibility. We were lucky that, crossing while carrying our books loosely in the days before book bags, we made these crossings without a mishap. I took various routes walking home from school, sometimes walking straight north on Soto Street then west on Brooklyn Ave., and sometimes zigzagging along the streets from school to my home on State Street, just north of Brooklyn Ave. I’m sure that in my various journeys home I walked through every possible block between school and my home. But taking the route that went through Hollenbeck Park was probably my favorite, maybe because I remember going there as a child with my family and visiting the boathouse and snack bar and feeding the ducks.

I remember when they drained the lake. It wasn’t completely dry, but you could walk along the lakebed to the muddy puddle that sat at the lowest part of the lake. Along the dry part of the lake you could see objects that had been thrown or dropped into the lake. Near the boathouse, you could see a lot of pens and eyeglasses that had fallen out of the pockets of people leaning over the low wall.

One day, walking along the muddy puddle we spotted a two by four stretching from the edge of the mud to the small pool of water that remained. We decided to try to walk on the two by four. My friend Henry went first and made it to about the middle of the board, then it slipped out from under his weight. Down he went into the mud. He got up but one half of him was covered with mud. It was a very funny sight and I had to laugh even though I felt guilty about laughing at his misfortune. He had to walk home in that muddy condition. Even today I still laugh at the memory of him half covered with mud. I was very lucky that he had tried to walk on the board before I did.

When the Golden State freeway was built over the park, they eventually removed the bridge and replaced it with a lower bridge that crossed the lake, but it didn’t extend to the edges of the park. The old bridge is gone, but the memories remain.

One of my memories of Hollenbeck Park was something that didn’t really happen there. While I was still at Hollenbeck Junior High, I was in a class with a student that kept bugging me. I kept trying to get him to stop and eventually someone else suggested we settle it after school in the park. We both agreed that we would meet in the park after school to settle the issue.

After school I walked home taking a different route and forgot all about going to the park. I didn’t even think about our prearranged meeting until late that night. As I contemplated the consequences of my forgetting to meet in the park, I became worried that if I went back to school the next day, people would say I was chicken because I didn’t show up. I didn’t know what would happen, but when I got to class I went up to him and said to him in a loud voice, “Why didn’t you show up a the park yesterday?” He made an excuse about forgetting about the meeting and looked embarrassed. I had managed to bluff my way out of the situation. Rightly or wrongly, I got out of my predicament, but best of all, it got him to quit his pestering.

I haven’t visited Hollenbeck Park in many years. Maybe it’s time to visit again.

October, 2002

For more information regarding the Boyle Heights residency contact Nona Chiang.

Updated: 5/7/03