I don’t recall what or who I was expecting the first time I walked into the Dutch Bakery on Lake Ave, two doors down from the post office. Maybe a plump blue-haired lady wearing a flowered apron with flower on her rosy cheeks?
Certainly not the tall black man who stepped in from the back wearing a plain white apron. His friendly, but commanding presence told me right away that he wasn’t the help. He was the man.
His name was Mr. Davis. I would often stop by when I had to go to the post office. He had several canisters of hot coffee waiting for customers just inside the front door. One was regular, one was decaf and often a flavored blend; French Roast, Hazelnut or another. I’d pour my coffee, then browse the glass case holding fresh baked pastries.
Mr. Davis and I would chat while I scanned the glass case for the perfect treat. He never seemed to be in a hurry to get back to his baking. If other customers came in, we all had his full attention. But I suspect he really wanted to get back to his bakery magic.
After I had paid for my coffee and snack I’d go outside and sit at a table, preferably away from the planter. I’d sketch or paint people as they came and went. I also painted the grocery store across the street numerous times. It was once a Ralphs with a Red Box video vending machine near the door. I was also sitting at the Dutch Bakery the day a crane showed up to to remove the Ralphs sign, now wrapped in black plastic. It then hoisted the new tenet’s company name atop the store; Grocery Outlet.
At that particular time, there was a thrift store that separated the bakery from the post office. Eventually, Rhythms of the Village moved into the space. Their offering was African apparel and accessories. Soon, incense wafted through the air and the rhythmic beat of congas brought soul to Lake Ave.
I already had a sizable enough wardrobe of African wear I had collected over the years. So I would window shop and admire the colorful and intricate African patterns and prints.
Several months into the aftermath of the Eaton Fire, a producer from NBC News reached out to get an interview. I said that I would agree to do it if it could happen on the streets while I painted. They agreed.
I met reporter Jonathan Gonzalez and photojournalist Sean Browning on the sidewalk across the street from the ruins of the Dutch Bakery and Rhythms. They would be my subjects. The presence and influence of African Americans on Altadena and beyond would be my topics.