Los Angeles Times - 26.08.2019

LATIMES.COM MONDAY, AUGUST 26, 2019B

Son of Dr. Richard Paul Barthol and

Esther Simpson Barthol. Widower

of beloved wife of 50 years, Meta

Lustgarten Barthol. Survived by

daughters Sara Helena Barthol and

Lora Ann Barthol, son-in-law, Daniel

Eric Shulman, granddaughter Billie

Blue Sky Shulman, and brother Bruce

Barthol. Clark died of metastatic

prostate cancer just a year and a half

after Meta’s passing.

Clark was born and spent his

early years in the Oakland/Berkeley,

California area. Other than a few years

he spent in his early teens in State

College, PA, and the time he spent

internationally (both with his family

as a child and loved ones he travelled

with as an adult), he based his life in

the Los Angeles area.

Clark left his mark on the world in

many ways, including by touching so

many with his spirit, ingenuity, insight,

and passion for life. Those who knew

him were blessed. His warm good

humor, genuine interest in others,

and generosity of spirit endeared him

to many. Clark never refused help to

anyone. His extraordinary parenting is

evidenced by the remarkable loyalty of

his daughters, who stayed by his side,

taking care of and battling with him,

until the end.

From a young age, Clark embraced

adventure, starting with living in Spain

for 6 months as a child. Scuba diving,

sailing, and traveling were what really

set Clark on his life’s path. He was

certified as a Master Diver. Later, as a

young man in Port Hueneme, along

with Meta and dear friend Dennis

Fontany, he built a 33 foot trimaran

that took them on many adventures

around the world over a three year

period as they completed the very first

circumnavigation of the globe by a

craft of that type.

Sara and Lora have many memories

of Clark in his happy place: whittling

and tinkering in the garage, fixing and

innovating while listening to tunes

and NPR on the radio. Sometimes he

taught them some of what he knew,

often with patience, humor, and

affection. Their memories also often

revolve around the role of music in

their household and family dynamics.

Having played upright bass as a teen

and sharing his love for guitar with

both Meta and Bruce, he continued

his appreciation of music throughout

his life.

To the admiration of many, Clark

integrated his passions and skills into

his careers as porpoise trainer for the

navy, boatbuilder, and proprietor of

Clark Barthol Marine Surveyors.

September 21, 1943 - July 7, 2019

BARTHOL, Robert Clark

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tors are considering a law
that might help change
that. Assembly Bill 1393
would require California
educators to create a model
curriculum about the Secret
War that includes the
perspectives of Laotian
refugees.
Requirements like these
and the proposed ethnic
studies graduation require-
ments in California are
decades overdue. But state
educators delayed the over-
haul of the ethnic studies
curriculum last week after
several advocacy groups
complained that their histo-
ries were not included.
Some conservatives criti-
cized the curriculum for
having words that were “too
progressive.”
So I decided to spend
some time getting to know
the Laotian community in
San Diego as a reminder of
the most important reason
to teach these histories: to
understand the people
around us.
We can argue over
whether terms are too
“woke” or “progressive.” We
can and should passionately
debate which histories and
communities should be
included and how best to
teach about them.
But we need to remem-
ber that ethnic studies exist
because the histories taught
in schools are embarrass-
ingly incomplete. And the
exclusion of those histories
not only leaves many of us
ignorant but also forces
people like Chanthamart
to fight for acknowledgment
of the basic facts of their
existence.
These histories couldn’t
be more essential in a state

like California, where more

than a quarter of the popu-

lation is foreign-born and

half of the state’s children

have at least one immigrant

parent.

Understanding history

can make the difference

between who gets refugee

status and who instead gets

demonized as an “illegal”

immigrant; whether Central

American asylum seekers

are treated like human

beings or held in cages at

the border and separated

from their families.

::

Like a lot of children of

immigrants, Sourita Siri, 26,

doesn’t love being asked

where she’s from. It’s par-

ticularly irritating in her

case because, when she

does respond, no one seems

to understand the answer.

“It’s like I have to whip

out a map and give a history

lecture every time,” Siri

said. Unless they saw the

2017 Laos episode of An-

thony Bourdain’s show

“Parts Unknown” or caught

the PBS documentary

about the Hmong that came

out that year, most people

she encounters have no idea

that the Vietnam War was

fought in Laos as well as

Vietnam and Cambodia,

Siri said.

But Hmong and Laotian

refugees have been settling

in California since the 1970s,

and now there are about

160,000 Hmong and Laotian

people in the state. About

8,000 settled in San Diego,

mostly in the southeast part

of town, where Siri’s grand-

father helped establish the

first Laotian temple in the

United States in 1980.

At first, the community

was small and intimate. The

temple was a rented, reno-

vated one-story ranch home

with the interior walls

knocked down to make

space for everyone to gather

for important holidays and

events.

When neighboring prop-

erties opened up, temple-

goers pooled their money

and acquired them one by

one. They petitioned the

city to combine the lots until

they had enough space to

construct a bigger temple

with its own parking lot.

Restaurants and stores

clustered in the neighbor-

hoods around the temple

and drew even more Lao-

tian immigrants. Now

southeast San Diego is a

landing ground for many

Laotian immigrants and

refugees, Siri said — not

that anyone would know it

at the high school she at-

tended, where everyone

assumed she was Filipino.

The Laotian American

community has been too

quiet, said Pida Kong-

phouthone, a Laotian

American real estate agent

in San Diego. Last year,

when a state amendment

establishing a model curric-

ulum about Southeast

Asian history excluded

Laotians, the community

had its wake-up call.

“We realized that we

needed to be our own advo-

cates and tell our own sto-

ries,” Kongphouthone said.

He and a group of Lao-

tian Americans formed a

group called LaoSD and

began to lobby for the inclu-

sion of their history. And in

January, Assemblywoman

Shirley Weber (D-San Di-

ego) sponsored a bill requir-

ing state educators to create

a model curriculum about

Laotian culture and history.

It’s critical that our

history reckons with facts

such as how U.S. interven-

tion in Southeast Asia left

Laos the most-bombed

country per capita in his-

tory, Kongphouthone said.

But it’s also important that

we understand that Lao-

tians, comprising more than

100 different ethnic groups,

are part of the American

social fabric, Kong-

phouthone said; that

Hmong soldiers fought for

America’s causes; that John

Douangdara, a Laotian

American Navy specialist,

died serving with SEAL

Team 6 in Afghanistan.

“Pretty or not pretty, it’s

important that Americans

understand why we have

immigrants and why we

have refugees,” Kong-

phouthone said.

For Sane Chan-

thaphavong, 67, who joined

the U.S.-backed Royal Lao

Air Force at 16 after his

brother was killed in the

conflict, the war was no

secret. He flew more than

1,000 missions, escorting

political figures and drop-

ping bombs where Ameri-

can intelligence officers told

him to.

Since he was a boy, the

U.S. had always represented

freedom and opportunity to

him — American dollars

paid for food, children’s

educations and schol-

arships. But then the U.S.

soldiers left, and he ended

up in a prisoner-of-war

camp, which he describes as

“the opposite of life.”

Because he was a pilot

with valuable skills, two

guards accompanied him

everywhere, and he was

forced to transport enemy

officials. In the camps,

communist soldiers starved

refugees, sowed discord

among families, even re-

fused to let husbands talk to

wives, attacking the social

fabric of Laotian society.

“The father does not

trust the daughter,” Chan-

thaphavong said. “The son

cannot trust the mother.”

He and his wife eventually

escaped to a Thai refugee

camp, found a sponsor and

resettled in San Diego.

Chanthaphavong found a

new life working as a ma-

chinist and became a father.

He’s glad his story might be

taught in schools now — he

tries to tell it to as many

young people as he can.

“To protect them,” Chan-

thaphavong explains. “To

protect freedom.”

I asked Chanthaphavong

why he wanted to come to

America, and at first he gave

me an answer I hear a lot: “I

came for a better life.”

I don’t dispute the truth

of the statement, and I

know that if English were

his native language, he

could give a more eloquent

answer.

But that narrative is just

too simple. It obscures the

painful complexity of Chan-

thaphavong’s journey to

San Diego. It makes it seem

like he was simply seeking

prosperity when he was in

fact fleeing for his life.

And it doesn’t explain

the gold elephant pin on his

lapel (a symbol of pre-com-

munist Laos), or why he has

never returned to his home

country, though sometimes

he gets homesick when

raindrops fleck the screen

doors of his home in San

Diego.

I ask him again, and this

time his answer is different.

“I came because I had

nowhere else to go,” he said.

A refugee story obscured by history

SANE CHANTHAPHAVONGstands with photos

from his time as a pilot in Laos, where he flew more

than 1,000 missions before being captured as a POW.

Dania MaxwellLos Angeles Times

[Shyong,from B1]

flanked by the Los Angeles
Fire Department’s fleet of
helicopters and City Council
members at the Van Nuys
Airport. “They also threaten
to leave more Angelenos
homeless when their lives
and properties are con-
sumed by flames.”
The Skirball fire moved
through the hills of one of
L.A.’s richest ZIP Codes — in
Bel-Air — and destroyed six
homes. Though the blaze
burned just 422 acres, it was
notable because of how it
started.
Months later, a Bel-Air
synagogue sued the city and
the county of Los Angeles,
arguing that authorities had
failed to clear the homeless
encampment where it be-
gan. The case is ongoing.
More recently, a large fire
last month in the Sepulveda
Basin displaced dozens of
homeless people and re-
quired 100 firefighters and
two helicopters to put it out.
A Times analysis last
year found that Los Angeles
has at least 114,000 struc-
tures in the highest fire haz-
ard zones, with tens of thou-
sands of houses on the West-
side and in the San Fer-
nando Valley at risk in the
Santa Monica, Santa Su-
sana and San Gabriel moun-
tains.

Officials said Wednesday

that the change in noti-

fication protocols under the

proposed ordinance would

make it easier for law en-

forcement to do their jobs.

“It’s basically putting a

blanket notice on those des-

ignated areas that trespass-

ing is prohibited, and that

we are going to be doing our

due diligence, working with

the [Los Angeles Homeless

Services Authority] and all

the different city agencies to

help ensure we’re mitigating

risk,” Rodriguez said.

The proposed ordinance

was announced at an out-

door event where the LAFD

also unveiled an $18-million

helicopter that it recently

purchased and put into

service.

Dozens of firefighters

stood alongside the larger

fleet in the hot sun as politi-

cians and Fire Chief Ralph

Terrazas spoke.

During his remarks, as

the temperature neared 90

degrees, Garcetti made a

point of telling the firefight-

ers behind him to not lock

their knees.

A short time later, as

Councilman David Ryu

spoke, one firefighter

fainted and was taken away

by ambulance.

“This is an example of

what heat stress can do to

firefighters,” Terrazas said.

“Heat is one of our enemies

in addition to the brush fire.”

City targets homeless camps in fire plan

THE SKIRBALL blaze in 2017 was sparked by a cooking fire at a homeless camp

in a hard-to-reach canyon near Sepulveda Boulevard and the 405 Freeway.

Brian van der Brug Los Angeles Times

[Wildfire,from B1]

company that owns Las Per-
las, said in a prepared state-
ment that security guards
acted appropriately.
“Last evening, an esca-
lated verbal altercation
broke out among two groups
of guests at Las Perlas. Our
manager on duty asked both
groups to leave as the safety
and security of our patrons
and employees is our top pri-
ority and we have zero toler-
ance for this type of behavior
in our establishments,” Mo-
ses said. “The guards re-
moved the guests that were
not compliant with the man-
ager’s request to leave and
did so in accordance with
company policy.”
The group of co-workers
said they were celebrating
the LGBTQ community at
DTLA Proud Festival and
decided to stop by the bar to
eat after the event.
Khloe Rios, who filmed
the cellphone video, said the
group was chatting and eat-

ing tacos and quesadillas

when the straight couple ap-

proached them.

“They said, ‘You guys are

all men. You guys don’t be-

long here,’ ” Rios, 30, said.

“And we turned around and

said, ‘Please leave us alone.

We don’t want problems.’ ”

The man accompanying

the woman grew aggressive,

Rios said, and slapped her

co-worker and pushed her.

The group stood up and

huddled around one anoth-

er for protection, she said.

At that point, Rios said,

the bar’s security guards got

involved.

They asked the man to

get his wife and exit the

restaurant. She said the em-

ployees were gentler with

the couple, who were es-

corted out, than with the

group.

“I think it was excessive

force used for no reason,” Bi-

anchi said. “I was a paying

customer like everybody else

in there and the couple

didn’t get escorted out the

way we did. We’re all still

pretty shocked.”

Bianchi said the group

called the police, but the

couple left before officers ar-

rived. Before leaving, she

said, the man grabbed a

piece of metal from the

street and threatened them

again.

“He threw it at the door

and said they would shoot us

all and kill us because we

were guys,” Bianchi said. “I

couldn’t sleep last night. I

feel sad. I feel anger. I feel just

like I’m in a nightmare.”

In his statement, Moses

said this “was a rare and un-

fortunate incident as Las

Perlas has provided an in-

clusive and welcoming envi-

ronment since it opened al-

most 10 years ago.”

“We will continue to value

and celebrate the diversity

of the downtown Los Ange-

les community we are so

proud to be a part of,” Moses

said.

Las Perlas plans to open

a location in West Holly-

wood, according to Eater.

Bianchi said she hopes

the incident will engender

compassion toward the

LGBTQ community.

“This cannot happen

over and over,” she said. “We

are facing so much discrimi-

nation and hate.”

Trans women ejected after

fight with couple, they say

A VIDEO clip shows a

transgender woman’s

encounter at Las Perlas.

Khloe Rios

[Transgender,from B1]