For millions of older Americans who will rely on Social Security without adequate retirement savings, the cost of living in cities like Los Angeles will be out of reach. Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Barbara Davidson chronicled some who were priced out of their homes this year for Capital & Main, the likely future for many more.
The United States is headed toward a reckoning as its population ages. For millions of older Americans who will rely on Social Security without adequate retirement savings, the cost of living in cities like Los Angeles will be out of reach. That is already the case for many in high-cost areas, and the number will multiply as the population ages. Layer on the inevitable decline of the body and, for some, the mind, and the prospect for many older Americans grows even grimmer. Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Barbara Davidson chronicled older adults who were priced out of their longtime homes this year for Capital & Main.
Playa del Rey resident Joanne Marie Erickson’s life unraveled steadily for years — and then, after she was evicted in February, all at once. She was alone, and overwhelmed. ”I think I’m falling apart,” she said.Erickson leans on her cat carrier as movers take her belongings from her home of 23 years to put them in a rented storage unit she could not afford. Erickson, in physical pain and unable to stand for very long, sits on the moving truck waiting for the movers to unload her belongings. She was thinking about living in her 20-year-old VW Beetle. She thought of sleeping in the back seat, with Muriel’s litter box on the front passenger-side floor. But after thinking about it, she realized, “I can’t live on the street.”Erickson bursts into tears as she leaves her home of 23 years for what she believed was the last time. Moving out of her place, she said, “was like a process of grieving. There was a death of sorts. This has always been my place to live and now it’s gone.”Michael Balog says he has been handed yet another eviction notice, pictured, from his landlord. Randy Shaw, a San Francisco lawyer who specializes in countering eviction proceedings, said buyouts for older renters often remove them from their neighborhood without enough to survive in the long term. “They know the people at the corner store, have a community, and they don’t want to be bought out.” And, he added, “They have nowhere to go.”Balog, facing eviction, visits with his mother, Rosalie Davis, at an assisted living center in Calabasas. In recent years, Balog had struggled to manage his own health challenges, caring for his mother and fighting his eviction. Balog meets with his lawyer from the Legal Aid Foundation of Los Angeles to fight eviction from his apartment of nearly 30 years.Balog weeps as he looks at a photo of his mother, Rosalie Davis, from her second marriage, at the Belmont Village assisted living center in Calabasas. She had passed away earlier in the day. Balog decided he would pack up his mother’s belongings.Balog carries out his mother’s possessions in her assisted living facility. She had died earlier in the day. Sisters Lupe Breard and Sarah Padilla, who moved into their Echo Park house with their siblings and mother over 60 years ago, are fighting eviction. Now, along with decades of artwork and books, placards protesting their eviction adorn their home.Breard, and her sister, Sarah Padilla, speak at a rally outside their home.Padilla starts packing up the home in which she has lived since she was 10 years old. She and her sister are fighting a second eviction attempt — they won an earlier eviction case. Los Angeles Tenants Union organizer Lupita Limón Corrales (center with bullhorn) protests in front of landlord Maria Solis’ home. Solis owns the house where Breard and Padilla live.Joanne Erickson sits on a chair in her Playa del Rey apartment in February after she returned from a temporary stay in a hotel. Weeks later, she received a “notice to vacate”’ and became homeless. A few months later, she was found dead at the friend’s house where she was staying.Naomi Waka signs for Erickson’s ashes at the Los Angeles County Cemetery, where homeless or unclaimed persons are buried. Before she died, Erickson called Waka “my angel.” Naomi Waka prays and weeps before Erickson’s ashes are laid to rest at Eternal Hills Memorial Park in Oceanside. Her burial was attended by two cemetery employees, Waka and two journalists. “Joanne, at least you have a place to finally call home,” Waka said, choking up.
