Los Angeles' black pride: taking in the retro vibe of the Leimert Park area

Out of the car and onto the sidewalk, I tracked the sound of jazz notes to the World Stage Performance Gallery, a storefront music joint on Degnan Boulevard in Los Angeles' Leimert Park neighborhood. There, a caramel-colored man sporting a brightly colored dashiki and an Afro was jamming hard on a piano, making wonderful work of "Bitches Brew" and other early Miles Davis tunes.

From there I floated into Zambezi Bazaar, an Afrocentric boutique a few doors away. A "Free Angela Davis" poster hung by the front door, and shelves held a selection of vintage publications: a 1963 Time magazine with a cover photo of novelist James Baldwin; a copy of Ebony magazine featuring an article about a rising young Chicago organizer named Jesse Jackson; dog-eared copies of William Grier and Price Cobb's "Black Rage," Stokely Carmichael's "Black Power" and other tomes from an earlier era.

Just about then, the 1970s child inside me was set free. This happens regularly to visitors in Leimert (pronounced la-MERT) Park.

This residential neighborhood and the small village at the center of it sit amid Los Angeles' sprawl, seven miles southwest of downtown. It's one of the country's last strongholds of old-style black culture and activism, with a happening ethnic flavor. A world away from glitzy Hollywood and Beverly Hills, Leimert Park has a following that is solidly loyal and apparently growing. A Kwanzaa festival in December drew throngs of celebrants into the streets. Lively bongo-drum jam sessions held in Leimert Plaza Park every Sunday are a major scene. Every weekend, fans of jazz or blues pile into the World Stage and other neighborhood music venues.

"People realize that what we have here is a rare scene, a preservation of our culture," said Richard Harris, co-owner of Lucy Florence Coffeehouse. Against the tide of rap, bling and other edgy cultural trends, many of the two dozen or so clubs and restaurants here offer entertainment and eats more popular in an earlier era. At Babe's & Ricky's Inn, a dark, smoky club and neighborhood hangout, the rum is cheap and the bands favor the raw B.B. King and John Lee Hooker brand of blues. At the Kitchen, a dining spot beloved by locals, there is no miso soup, designer pizza or other trendy California fare on the menu. Instead it features fried chicken, collard greens, macaroni and cheese and other Southern mainstays.

Black Greenwich Village

Many of the Leimert Park regulars were activists in the '60s and '70s who declined to give up the good fight — like John Caldwell, a criminal defense lawyer in his 40s whom I encountered on a street corner. "Other African-American neighborhoods across the country have surrendered to gentrification," he said. "Even Harlem is going yuppie. But the revolution is still going on here. Anybody who believes in it can join us."

Despite its compact size (a few square blocks bounded roughly by Crenshaw Boulevard, 43rd Street, Leimert Boulevard and Vernon Avenue), a visitor could easily spend a couple of days hanging out in Leimert Park. Some months ago, I devoted most of a weekend to browsing the boutiques, listening to live jazz and blues, dining and grooving to an open-air bongo drum and dance free-for-all.

This is Southern California without the tinsel. Designed in the 1920s by landscape architect Frederick Olmsted Jr. (whose father brought us New York's Central Park) as a planned community, the neighborhood consists mostly of pastel-colored Spanish stucco bungalows. Leimert Plaza Park is a small triangular space where many locals while away their afternoons. Magnolias, palms, maples and pines line the streets.

But it's the intimate clubs and shops along Degnan Boulevard and 43rd Street, the village's main thoroughfares, that make this place worth the trip for urban explorers. Filmmaker John Singleton ("Boyz 'N the Hood"), a resident, has called it "the black Greenwich Village."

Leimert Park was originally an all-white, middle-class neighborhood. Black people starting staking out a place in the 1940s, when Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles and other stars bought homes there. In the 1970s, in the wake of the Watts riots, black entrepreneurs started opening independent arts shops. In spite of a recent influx of whites, Hispanics and Asians, black merchants are working to maintain the neighborhood's Afrocentric focus.

"We're not clinging to the past. We prefer to think of it as keeping the light of hope burning," explained Mary Kimbrough, co-owner of Zambezi Bazaar, who is a fixture in this village.

While exploring, I felt an urge to take something back home. That's pretty easy to do. A shopper could easily overhaul a wardrobe or fill a gift list.

Ahneva Ahneva, whose namesake store is on Degnan Boulevard, custom-designs fashions — anything from evening gowns to beachwear — for men, women and children. For those who want to sew their own quilts or garments, Africa by the Yard, down the block, is the place to go, with fabrics and fashions from Ghana, Sierra Leone and other African countries lining the shelves.

Sika Master Jeweler, a few doors away, features a dazzling array of rings, necklaces and other ornamentals, with the best pieces made of amber, shells and silver. Nearby, Zambezi Bazaar has a carefully chosen selection of black-themed greeting cards, dolls, candles, earrings and housewares.

The music of the city

Lucy Florence, the coffeehouse, is a multipurpose gathering spot with the feel of a salon. There's a gallery featuring the works of several young L.A. painters, a stage where plays and spoken-word presentations are produced, and a cafe selling java and pies.

Back on the street, night was settling in and the village was becoming a cacophony of music. The sonorous voice of Ann Mack, a local vocalist, wafted onto the street from Augustine's, a fine-dining spot on Degnan Boulevard. A bongo player played in the park. A jazz trio played sets at Fifth Street Dick's, a popular cafe and music spot.

But I passed up these scenes for blues at Babe's & Ricky's Inn. Inside, neon signs blinked and a small crowd sipped Coronas at the bar. The night's two acts, soloist Mickey Champion and Bill Clark and the Mighty Balls of Fire, easily met my high expectations.

The next day, I returned to Leimert Park to attend a free open-air jazz concert organized by the World Stage. All afternoon, trios, quartets and larger bands filed onto a makeshift stage as the crowd swelled into the hundreds.

Even as the concert wound down, most of the fans stayed on, calling for encores — clinging to the moment.