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| May 20, 2024 |
By Christian Orozco Good morning. It’s Monday, May 20. Here’s what you need to know to start your day.
Meet Jorge, Olvera Street’s stuffed donkey facing evictionAt first glance, Jorge, the stuffed burro of Olvera Street, may seem like a replaceable prop among the trinkets and knickknacks that fill the storied downtown Los Angeles plaza. But how he got there, and his uncertain future, feels like an all-too-familiar L.A. story. For 52 years, Jorge has never turned down a photo opportunity. For a price, you can don a sombrero and serape, hop on Jorge’s back and come away with a photo. Cynics might say he occupies a kitschy tourist trap or represents a Mexican cliche. Others will call him a fond memory from a staple L.A. experience. After more than half a century of service and supplying mementos to tourists, transplants and locals alike, Jorge is facing eviction. The reason? Richard Hernandez, the son of owner Trancito Hernandez, is not on the lease despite efforts by his mother beginning in 2019 to add him, he toldlocal news outlets. The burro and cart are fixtures in the El Pueblo de Los Angeles, whose board of commissioners supervises the historical monument . Richard has been running the business since the late 1990s, the family says, but Trancito died in April, and confusion surrounds the contract. On May 1, only a few weeks after his mother died, Richard received a notice that he and Jorge had to vacate by May 16. The order to vacate has been put on hold until Richard makes his case before El Pueblo’s board Thursday. Family members, friends and fans have rallied support for Jorge and Richard on social media and started an online petition. And now, the L.A. City Council is considering a motion to help Richard extend the lease for the spot known as La Carreta.  Jesus Hernandez stores his uncle’s life-size stuffed donkey during the business’ off-hours. (Jae C. Hong / Associated Press) All this for a stuffed donkey? To understand Jorge’s significance, you have to go back to the late 1960s and meet the dancing zoot suiter who trained canaries to dance with him. The life, death and stuffed resurrection of Jorge Jorge sprung from the mind of Richard’s eccentric patriarch, and the donkey’s path to notoriety was highlighted by visits from L.A. mayors and an appearance in the 1987 film “La Bamba.” In 2005, Times staff writer Veronica Torrejon wrote a feature on Jorge and the Hernandez family. Jesus Hernandez worked as a photographer for Spanish-language newspapers and sold souvenirs at the plaza in the late 1960s. He also had an act. Dressed in a zoot suit, Jesus would perform a dance routine with a unique group of backup dancers, a flock of trained canaries pecking at pieces of paper. It wasn’t long before he came up with an idea that looked a lot like the prototypical donkey carts that drew tourists in Tijuana.  Jesus and Trancito Hernandez at Olvera Street. (Courtesy of Nicole Macias) At first, Jesus tested the waters with a real donkey. Despite the initial success, the donkey, named Cirila, eventually had to exit Olvera Street at the behest of animal activists and health officials. By 1972, a Mexico City taxidermist was stuffing a dead donkey and sending it to Jesus; little is known about Jorge’s life before he met the taxidermist. (It was eventually refurbished with fake fur.) Jorge’s arrival came with its own difficulties. Border officials told Jesus that drug-sniffing dogs had alerted them to the stuffed donkey. Richard Hernandez, Jesus’ son, told Torrejon that his dad thought agents were posing as tourists at the plaza to try to see if his business had any connection to the drug trade. “For six months, the forlorn donkey lingered with customs,” Torrejon reported. “Eventually, the Hernandez business was cleared and the donkey freed.” After his holdup at the border, Jorge joined the Hernandez family and slowly became a mainstay on one of L.A.’s oldest streets.  Photographer Carolina Hernandez sits for a photo next to a stuffed donkey. (Jae C. Hong / Associated Press) “Hollywood has its sign. Paris, its tower. Downtown Los Angeles has its burro,” Torrejon wrote. The next generation Nicole Macias is the granddaughter of Jesus and Trancito. She grew up working at her family’s shops on Olvera Street (the Hernandez family also runs Hernandez Imports at Olvera Street). After her grandmother’s death, Nicole said her uncle Richard was blindsided by the landlord’s eviction notice. “We haven’t had a proper time to mourn,” Macias told me. According to Macias, her grandmother’s goal was to get her son Richard added to the burro cart lease and her son Frank on the lease for Hernandez Imports. She’d made efforts to do so since 2019, Macias said, making the three-hour drive from her home in Hanford (with help from family members) to downtown L.A. Frank was successfully added to the Hernandez Imports lease and has not faced any threat of eviction. El Pueblo did not respond to a Times request for comment. Along with the online petition, Macias has rallied support through Instagram as well with a TikTok video about her family that has garnered more than 51,000 views. She’s hoping supporters will come out and support her uncle on Thursday as he makes his plea to extend the lease in front of El Pueblo’s Board of Commissioners.  Families enjoy the Cinco de Mayo Fiesta at Olvera Street on May 5, 2024. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times) “When you’re [involved], you don’t see the impact [Jorge] has,” Macias said. “But now I see how much it means to the community.” Today’s top stories President Biden and valedictorian DeAngelo Jeremiah Fletcher at the Morehouse College commencement. (Alex Brandon / Associated Press) War in Gaza
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