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Cooperative Economy in the Great Depression | Jonathan Rowe
"Entrepreneurs of cooperation
Before Social Security and the WPA, the Unemployed Exchange Association rebuilt a collapsed economy"



"The mood at kitchen tables in California in the early 1930s was as bleak as it was elsewhere in the United States. Factories were closed. More than a quarter of the breadwinners in the state were out of work. There were no federal or state relief programs, nothing but some local charity—in Los Angeles County, a family of four got about 50 cents a day, and only one in 10 got even that.

Not long before, America had been a farming nation. When times were tough, there was still the land. But the country was becoming increasingly urban. People were dependent on this thing called “the economy” and the financial casino to which it was yoked. When the casino crashed, there was no fallback, just destitution. Except for one thing: The real economy was still there — paralyzed but still there. Farmers still were producing, more than they could sell. Fruit rotted on trees, vegetables in the fields. In January 1933, dairymen poured more than 12,000 gallons of milk into the Los Angeles City sewers every day.

The factories were there too. Machinery was idle. Old trucks were in side lots, needing only a little repair. All that capacity on the one hand, legions of idle men and women on the other. It was the financial casino that had failed, not the workers and machines. On street corners and around bare kitchen tables, people started to put two and two together. More precisely, they thought about new ways of putting twoand two together.

Building a reciprocal economy

In the spring of 1932, in Compton, California, an unemployed World War I veteran walked out to the farms that still ringed Los Angeles. He offered his labor in return for a sack of vegetables, and that evening he returned with more than his family needed. The next day a neighbor went out with him to the fields. Within two months 500 families were members of the Unemployed Cooperative Relief Organization (UCRO).

That group became one of 45 units in an organization that served the needs of some 150,000 people.

It operated a large warehouse, a distribution center, a gas and service station, a refrigeration facility, a sewing shop, a shoe shop, even medical services, all on cooperative principles. Members were expected to work two days a week, and benefits were allocated according to need. A member with a wife and two kids got four times as much food as someone living alone. The organization was run democratically, and social support was as important as material support. Members helped one another resist evictions; sometimes they moved a family back in after a landlord had put them out. Unemployed utility workers turned on gas and electricity for families that had been cut off.

Conventional histories present the Depression as a story of the corporate market, foiled by its own internal flaws, versus the federal government, either savvy mechanic or misguided klutz, depending on your view.The government ascended, in the form of the New Deal; and so was born the polarity of our politics—and the range of our economic possibilities—ever since.

Yet there was another story too. It embodied the trusty American virtues of initiative, responsibility, and self-help, but in a way that was grounded in community and genuine economy. This other story played out all over the U.S., for a brief but suggestive moment in the early 1930s.

The UCRO was just one organization in one city. Groups like it ultimately involved more than 1.3 million people, in more than 30 states. It happened spontaneously, without experts or blueprints. Most of the participants were blue collar workers whose formal schooling had stopped at high school. Some groups evolved a kind of money to create more flexibility in exchange. An example was the Unemployed Exchange Association, or UXA, based in Oakland, California. (The UXA story was told in an excellent article in the weekly East Bay Express in1983, on which the following paragraphs are based.) UXA began in a Hooverville (an encampment of the poor during the Depression, so-called after the president) called “Pipe City,” near the East Bay waterfront. Hundreds of homeless people were living there in sections of large sewer pipe that were never laid because the city ran out of money. Among them was Carl Rhodehamel, a musician and engineer.

Rhodehamel and others started going door to door in Oakland, offering to do home repairs in exchange for unwanted items. They repaired these and circulated them among themselves. Soon they established a commissary and sent scouts around the city and intothe surrounding farms to see what they could scavenge or exchange labor for. Within six months they had 1,500 members, and a thriving sub-economy that included a foundry and machine shop, woodshop, garage,soap factory, print shop, wood lot, ranches, and lumber mills. They rebuilt 18 trucks from scrap. At UXA’s peak it distributed 40 tons of food a week.

It all worked on a time-credit system. Each hour worked earned a hundred points; there was no hierarchyof skills, and all work paid the same. Members could use credits to buy food and other items at the commissary, medical and dental services, haircuts, an dmore. A council of some 45 coordinators met regularly to solve problems and discuss opportunities.

One coordinator might report that a saw needed a new motor. Another knew of a motor but the owner wanted a piano in return. A third member knew of a piano that was available. And on and on. It was an amalgam of enterprise and cooperation—the flexibility and hustle of the market, but without the encoded greed of the corporation or the stifling bureaucracy of the state. The economics texts don’t really have a name for it. The members called it a “reciprocal economy.”

The dream fades

It would seem that a movement that provided livelihood for more than 300,000 people in California alone would merit discussion in the history books. Amidst the floundering of the early 1930s, this was something that actually worked. Yet in most accounts the self-help co-ops get barely a line.

The one exception is Upton Sinclair’s campaign for governor in 1934. Sinclair was a kind of Ralph Nader of his day. He based his campaign on a plan he called End Poverty in California, or EPIC, which was based in turn on the self-help cooperatives, UXA in particular. It would have taken the state’s idle farmland and factories and turned them into worker co-ops.

The idea of a genuine economy shorn of Wall Street contrivance touched a chord. Some 2,000 EPIC clubs sprang up. Sinclair won the Democratic primary, but California’s moneyed establishment mustered $10 million dollars to pummel him. EPIC died with his campaign, and the idea has been associated with quixotic politics ever since.

To say UXA and the other cooperative economies faced challenges is to put it mildly. They were going against the grain of an entire culture. Anti-communist “Red Squads” harassed them, while radicals complained they were too practical and not sufficiently committed to systemic change.

But the main thing that killed the co-ops was the Works Progress Administration and its cash jobs. Those WPA jobs were desperately needed. But someof them were make-work, while the co-op work was genuinely productive.

The co-ops pleaded with FDR’s Administration to include them in the WPA. Local governments were helping with gasoline and oil. But the New Dealers weren’t interested, and the co-ops melted away. For years they were period pieces, like soup lines and Okies.

Or so it seemed.

Today, the signs of financial and ecological collapse are mounting. We are strung out on foreign debt and foreign oil, and riding real estate inflation that won’t last forever. Add the impendingc ollapse of the natural life support system, and the ’30s could seem benign by comparison.

In this setting, the economics of self-help are increasingly relevant. The possibility of creating such an economy, though, might seem remote. In the 1930s, there still were farms on the outskirts of cities—family operations that could make barter deals on the spot. Factories were nearby too. Products were simple and made to last, and so could be scavenged and repaired.

All that has changed. The factories are in China, the farms are owned by corporations, and you can’t walk to them from Los Angeles anymore. Products are made to break; the local repair shop is a distant memory. Hyper-sophisticated technology has put local mechanics out of business, let alone backyard tinkerers.

An idea resurfaces

Yet there are trends on the other side as well. Energy technology is moving back to the local level, by way of solar, wind, biodiesel and the rest. The popularity of organics has given a boost to smaller farms. There’s also the quiet revival of urban agriculture. Community gardens are booming—some 6,000 of them in 38 U.S. cities. In Boston, the Food Project produces over 120,000 pounds of vegetables on just 21 acres.Then consider the unused land in U.S. cities: some 70,000 vacant parcels in Chicago, 31,000 in Philadelphia.

Large swaths of Detroit look like Dresden after the firebombing. A UXA could do a lot with that. I’m not getting gauzy here. Anyone who has been part of a co-op — I once served on the board of one — knows it is not a walk in the park. But it is not hard to see the stirrings of a new form of cooperative economics on the American scene today. You can’t explain Linux, the computer operating system developed community-style on the web, by the tenets of the economics texts. Nor can you so explain Craig’s List, the online bulletin board that people use at no or minimal cost.

The cooperative model seems to defy what economists call “economic law”—that people work only for personal gain and in response to schemes of personal incentive and reward. Yet the Depression co-ops did happen. When the next crash … [more]
cooperation  coopeatives  greatdepression  socialism  history  california  us  1930s  economics  solidarity  jonathanrowe  losangeles  compton  farming  agriculture  labor  work  ucro  oakland  carlrhodehamel  uxa  community  mutualaid  detroit  coops  local  fdr  wpa  communism  uptonsinclair  poverty 
march 2019 by robertogreco
End of the Road: LACMA9 Wraps Up Its Countywide Journey | Los Angeles | Artbound | KCET
"Nine cities. Sixteen months, 47 filmmaking workshops provided, 113 distinct films screened, 61 oral history dates, with numerous stories told, heard, and created, both on- and off-camera. There were countless communities inspired, and connections made.

In June 2013, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art's educational initiative education department sprung the LACMA9 Art + Film Lab on Redlands, San Bernardino, Altadena. Monterey Park, Hacienda Heights, Montebello, Compton, Inglewood and Torrance. Over the course of 16 months, and using a big red steel and plywood structure, designed by sculptor Jorge Pardo, as a traveling mobile installation/event/community space, the Lab camped out in parking lots, community spaces, and parks in some of these nine cities for five weeks at a time. Each weekend, its crew screened movies, hosted musical bands, taught workshops on film and video, and gathered oral histories from community members. Supported by a grant from The James Irvine Foundation, the events and classes were free. It was a boon for the participants, many of whom had never heard of LACMA before.

While LACMA9 may have been the institution's first traveling educational endeavor, Sarah Jesse, associate vice president of education and public programs at LACMA, explained that the Lab was just a different iteration LACMA's outreach philosophy. "[We want to] build relationships with people on their own turf, in their own neighborhoods, before expecting them to come visit us." She added, "The nine cities were purposely picked so LACMA could have a chance to form relationships with organizations and individuals that we've never met before."

[video: https://vimeo.com/90709049 ]

And for many of the participants -- from community members to LACMA staffers to artists involved in the event -- the project was immeasurably moving. Hanul Bahm, LACMA's community engagement manager, produced the Lab and was part of every set-up in every city. (Read her missives from the road here). Bahm said, "The experience gave me a groundedness in California because it is home for so many different kinds of people, and I got to encounter so much of this area." A transplant to Los Angeles from New York by way of San Francisco, she added, "It was a big gift to encounter and serve so many Angelenos and hear their personal stories, share culture, and turn people on to filmmaking."

Participants came from all over for different reasons: some wanted to learn to be filmmakers and took part in the workshops. Some wanted to tell their stories in the oral history booths. Others wanted to dance and party during the opening nights, and others wanted to watch the free movies screened. "It made me think of our journeys as Angelenos and all the different places we come from, and fates that led us all to this place," Bahm said."

[video: https://vimeo.com/100325305 ]

The Lab connected families, developed cross-cultural interactions, and -- most importantly -- empowered the people. "We've had people who've never used a camera in their lives keep coming back to our workshops and now they want to make feature-length documentaries," Bahm said. "[LACMA9] gave [participants] access to all these world-class filmmakers who are giving you everything they can to make sure you can own this process [of filmmaking]. It's like, you have a camera in your hand, here's how to edit."

The sense of radical friendliness and accessibility that the LACMA9 staff tried to embody was especially effective given that Southern California houses a monolithic film industry that's so closed off to regular people, Bahm said. "I said that if even one person comes out of this project and self-identifies as a filmmaker, then we've succeeded. And hundreds of people now do that, and continue to collaborate with each other because they met each other at the Lab. We wanted to take away the exclusivity of relating to this medium, and I think we did that."

Other partnerships are continuing on beyond the LACMA9 lifespan as well. LACMA is developing an in-depth partnership with school districts in two cities, Compton and Torrance, wherein LACMA will provide teaching artists to select elementary and middle schools over the course of four years. LACMA will provide the schools artists who will expose students to works from the LACMA collection and inspire them to create hands-on art projects, and LACMA will provide NextGen passes to all the students. "We're providing an art curriculum where there may be a gap [in those communities]," Jesse said.

LACMA also commissioned artist Nicole Miller to create videos for every city. She filmed two residents who took part in the oral history booths to create an 18-piece video installation. The videos of every city were screened at LACMA during the days when the museum provided free admission to residents of those cities; highlights from the whole piece will be screened on Sunday, October 19 and Sunday, December 21 at 12:30 p.m. in LACMA's Bing Theater.

[videos:

Miller approached individuals interested in storytelling and cinema, the ones whose personal stories were somehow intertwined in these ideas. Her subjects include a man playing the harp speaking about abuse, a woman doing laughing exercises, a painter who nearly died in jail. "In every instance there was a transmission to be made," she said. "They all met me knowing exactly which of their stories needed to be told and why they should tell these stories on screen."

Artist Miller says watching her subjects watch themselves on the big screen in the LACMA theater was extraordinary -- a circle of each subject's experience, which was made into story, and then into image. At the first screening, Miller featured Ndinda Spada practicing exercises from a laughing yoga class. "Her beautiful smile and the ringing of her joyous voice projected to the audience from the giant screen. There happened to be a full audience of children, when Ndinda come on the screen laughing, they all responded with a chorus of ecstatic laughter, a wonderful back and forth between screen and viewers. This is the ideal of how my work is supposed to function, changing reality just so," Miller said.

Bahm says providing artistic venues to underserved communities is something more institutions should do. "To know that you're in a place that's hungry for creative outlets, and that LACMA was able to meet that hunger and transform it into something really life-giving, was a remarkable act, but it was possible because of the people who participated, not just the Lab," she said. "I hope to see more institutions and communities enact change, and solve problems together creatively.""

[http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/lacma9-inglewood-art-film-lab.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/compton-artfilm-lab.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/montebello-art-film-lab-lacma9.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/hacienda-heights-art-film-lab-lacma9.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/monterey-park-lacma9-artfilm-lab.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/los-angeles/lacma9-art-film-lab-altadena.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/san-bernardino/san-bernardino-lacma9-art-film-lab.html
http://www.kcet.org/arts/artbound/counties/san-bernardino/lacma9-art-film-lab-redlands.html ]
lacma  lacma9  art  arteducation  education  mobility  jorgepardo  openstudioproject  lcproject  filmmaking  redlands  altadena  sanbernardino  montereypark  haciendaheights  montebello  compton  inglewood  torrance  losangeles  outreach  sarahjesse 
october 2014 by robertogreco

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