amykhs

[amykhs]

Streets, Stalls, and Stalemates: Inside the Fight for the LACC Swap Meet [in progress]

On a rare cloudy Sunday at the iconic LACC Swap Meet, Elvis Crespo’s “Suavemente” plays over the buzz of shoppers, while the smell of pupusas fills the air. But beneath the music and masa, tension is rising.

A father calls for help at his family’s 15-year-old taco stand while two sisters barter over vintage chairs. But just outside the gates, street vendors line the sidewalks in defiance of city ordinances, igniting a bitter fight over fairness, legality and survival. The conflict is dividing neighbors, pitting vendors against one another and drawing accusations of racism and neglect against city leadership.

One of the longest-running swap meets in Los Angeles, LACC Swap has been a community staple for nearly three decades. It not only provides affordable goods for local residents but also generates around $500,000 annually for scholarships through the LACC Foundation, which serves 17,000 students according to the event’s official website.

“The swap meet’s contribution was at its height at $675,000 in 2019,” said Robert Schwartz, chairman of the Foundation’s board. “Last year, 2024, was $405,000. It’s gone down each year.”

Beyond the COVID-19 shutdown, Schwartz attributes the drop to the rise of vendors — some permitted, some not — who’ve taken to the sidewalks despite city ordinance.

And when it comes to business, he would know. As the Foundation’s former executive director, Schwartz helped grow its assets from $4.5 million to over $50 million.

“It’s been a real battle,” he said. “It’s having an impact on the bottom line because it’s impacting how much money comes in for operating, so we have to get it from somewhere else.”

The Foundation is the largest in the history of the Los Angeles Community College District. Last year, it distributed more than half a million dollars in scholarships and funded textbook grants and emergency support, including $250,000 in the first month of the pandemic.

But with swap meet revenue down, those efforts may be in jeopardy.

“The money we get from the donors is being used for operating versus things like scholarships and support and textbooks,” Schwartz said. “I don’t think it’s sustainable at the level we’re currently seeing it.”

In 2021, Schwartz brought in Phillip Dane, a veteran L.A. event producer with 34 years of experience, to revive the swap meet from its near-collapse. And for a time, he did just that.

But Dane has since become one of the most polarizing elements of the current controversy.

Vendors and advocates accuse him of threats, aggressive tactics and racist language — claims that Dane denies or says he has disproved.

One such claim — that Dane placed giant boulders on the sidewalk to block street vendors — was refuted by Schwartz himself.

“The foundation paid for [the boulders] to the tune of about $25,000,” Schwartz said. “But the council office had street services come and — I’m not sure if it was legal or not — take everything away.”

The roots of the conflict trace back to 2020, when the pandemic forced the swap meet’s first closure in two decades. Many vendors who had once sold inside pivoted to the sidewalks along Vermont and Monroe. Most never left.

“They are a blight on the community,” Dane said over the phone. “It’s illegal for them to be in the immediate vicinity. Just go across the street, that’s all I’ve been saying since day one.”

Dane places the blame squarely on Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez of District 13.

“For three years I’ve been battling with him, saying you have to uphold this ordinance,” Dane said. “Their office refuses to meet with us. He’s advocating for street vendors, whether it’s legal or not. I’m willing to meet with Hugo in a public forum, and I promise you — he’ll never do it.”

Soto-Martinez, who built his platform on championing working-class Angelenos, is seen by supporters as a needed disruptor. 

"As the son of street vendors, I understand the vital role they play in our city’s culture and economy,” the Councilmember wrote in a statement.

“It’s essential to bring together residents, vendors from inside and outside the Swap Meet, and LACC to build a system that supports safe, legal vending while respecting the needs of the local community and the Swap Meet itself.”

In a 2024 win for street vendors and advocacy groups, with the councilmember’s support, the city repealed several major no-vending zones. And the 2018 Safe Sidewalk Vending Act (SB 946) decriminalized street vending statewide. But the swap meet and its surrounding 500-foot radius remain an official no-vending zone under a still-active city ordinance. This leaves the vendors in a legal gray area where they can’t be charged with a crime, but can be legally cited and removed.

Nick Barnes-Batista, communications director for Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez, said the office has been monitoring the situation and working with agencies, such as the Los Angeles Department of Transportation, to respond to parking complaints and traffic safety complaints.

“This has been on our radar for a while and the types of concerns vary,” he said, adding that only one resident has formally relocated because of the swap meet activity.

Barnes-Batista acknowledged the limitations of enforcement alone and echoed a desire to find long-term solutions.

“It’s about getting the stakeholders involved,” he said. “Centering the vendors — inside and out — and neighbors and working out a solution that can work for everybody. This is the work Hugo has done his entire career.”

Yet across nearly every stakeholder interviewed — residents, neighborhood leaders, Robert Schwartz, and especially Phillip Dane — the sentiment is the same: City Council isn’t listening.

Dane, who says he is building a lawsuit against the councilmember, isn’t alone in his frustration.

Residents have raised concerns ranging from noise and parking issues to harassment and safety risks.

“It appears you have been well aware of these concerns for some time yet refuse to take action to make your community safer,” wrote Berenger Lefranc, a public school teacher and single mother in East Hollywood, to the councilmember.

“In fact, it appears you are directly preventing any sort of compromise or solution. This is nothing short of a betrayal to your constituents.”

Lefranc eventually broke her lease to move away, citing 6 A.M. noise violations, sexual harassment, and a $734 liability from an uninsured vendor hitting her car. It was “a devastating financial burden,” she wrote, for someone living paycheck to paycheck. 

Residents find this all the more frustrating when median home prices in the neighborhoods surrounding the swap meet — along Vermont Avenue, Marathon, Madison, and Monroe — have steadily increased over the last decade. The average listing price in East Hollywood is currently around $875,000, while average rent hovers just above $2,300 per month, according to Realtor.com

With over a decade of campaign work and a seat on the East Hollywood Neighborhood Council, East Hollywood resident Colter Carlisle has watched this battle unfold from many angles.

“I would suspect the majority opinion is that people are tired of it,” Carlisle said. “A lot of people were upset about the noise or the trash. Other people didn’t mind it, or thought it was cool.”

Two years ago, the EHNC held public meetings and formed a committee to resolve the conflict. But according to Carlisle, little came of it, and progress now hinges on political movement from the city council.

But while four years of bureaucratic gridlock have pushed the conflict to its boiling point, the path to resolution has only grown more tangled — especially for vendors, for whom this is not just a legal fight, but a matter of survival.

Street vending has long been woven into the fabric of Los Angeles, and so have efforts to regulate and restrict it. For many, vending isn’t a choice. It’s the only thing keeping food on the table.

“A lot of people who are undocumented and don't have a social security number can't get a job —  this is their income,” said Claudia, a longtime vendor and active member of CHIRLA (Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of L.A.).

She used to vend inside the swap meet, but now prefers the street. “It’s way better out here,” she said. “We’re a community — we support each other. This provides opportunities to pay for college, start a business, help their families. Inside, sometimes you don’t even make your money back.”

That refers to the $70 to $85 daily rental fee for an official stall, which is an unaffordable sticking point for many.

Ana, a swap meet staple for the last 15 years, shares her row inside with friends and family. She relies on her booth for nearly half of her income.

“It's not fair that they don't come inside and pay — they're just selling outside for free,” she said. “A lot of people that pay think the same."

Her partner, José, sees it differently.

“Swap Meet has changed a lot,” he said. “Everything's been hiked and prices and sales aren’t the same. It's because of the economy. I can’t say nothing about it because I think everybody is fighting right now to survive." 

Stories of ICE raids and deportation breaking up multi-generational families have sparked community advocacy. Tommy, a first-time vendor and designer, bought three hangers from Claudia before setting up his booth to promote his brand, yoonyjun. All proceeds from the day went to CHIRLA.

 “Countless industries & individual businesses would collapse without [undocumented migrants],” read one of his handouts. “Nobody is illegal on stolen land. F-CK ICE.”

It’s hard to argue when, according to the most recent data from USC’s Equity Research Institute, undocumented immigrants contributed close to $18 billion to the economy in local, state and federal taxes, as well as spending power, in 2021.

But while the vendors keep showing up, carrying histories, families and futures in plastic crates and folding tables, the systems around them remains stalled.

Nearly everyone agrees that the current setup isn’t working. What’s missing is not more debate, but political will.

“What happens a lot of times with compromise is that everyone walks away kind of angry, but sometimes that means it’s a really good compromise,” said Carlisle of the EHNC. “I tell people that the pinnacle of politics is everyone being mad at you — but they completely understand why you did what you did.” 

Rather than a straightforward issue of legality or fairness, the LACC Swap Meet conflict is a microcosm of a broader breakdown: of policy failing to keep up with economic reality.

Structural change takes time, but people’s lives can’t wait. As swap meet vendor Diego put it, “Does it affect business negatively? Yeah, it does. But I see it this way — the sun shines for everybody.”

[amykhs]

Small Acts and Big Change

So far, 2025 has felt like a barrage of bad news and heartache (and it’s not even March). Life in L.A. since the fires feels reminiscent of life after the COVID lockdown – an odd feeling of dissociation after experiencing a devastating catastrophe plaguing all attempts to get back to “business as usual”.

It is almost enough to make you forget about the people who cannot. The displaced families dealing with an already impossible housing market, the business owners whose livlihoods no longer exist, or L.A.’s already massive unhoused population whose lives have been upended by so many more needing the help they rely on.

The answer, I believe, to all of this – the displaced, the unhoused, the ennui of living in a world waiting for the next natural disaster or political malfeasance – is sustained mutual aid.

The devastation of January’s fires was immeasurable but the outpouring of care from the community was equally unprecedented. In the first two weeks, I was turned away countless times by organizations with a surplus of volunteers.

Then week four came around. By week six I had the same organizations that turned me away calling with urgent requests for volunteers. But it makes sense.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) describes the burnout specific to traumatic events like the fires (coined ‘disaster fatigue’) in phases: Impact Phase, Heroic Phase, Honeymoon Phase, Disillusionment Phase and Reconstruction Phase (or ‘Adaptation’).

During the first few phases everyone is mobilized and brought together with a sense of shared responsibility and community – it feels good. Then the reality of the situation sets in and they are inundated with information and need; enthusiasm wanes and as quick as they came, they are gone.

But devastation does not stop with the disaster and neither can we. Ask any organizer who has been doing this for decades and they will tell you: it is a relay race-style marathon, not a sprint.  

So pick up a metaphorical hammer. Find what you are good at or what you would love to do for free for others and do it. That’s it. There is no secret society of good-willed people, it’s just us.

And make sure to pace yourself. It is a long road ahead and most of it is not paved. The good news is that we can shape it ourselves, together.  

Resources to get involved with local mutual aid efforts in L.A.:

@mutualaidla on instagram

Weekly Community Events

World Central Kitchen

Feed the Streets

SELAH Neighborhood Homeless Coalition

[amykhs]