The dreary, rainy weather outside couldn’t dampen the spirits of those attending the Pasadena Buddhist Temple’s fundraiser dance on Nov. 15. Music, dinner, and a reuniting of friends and neighbors took place in lieu of the annual Obon Festival, canceled over the summer due to the ongoing and massive cleanup following the Eaton Fire in January.
After the gut punch of the Eaton Fire, collective healing arrives via newly formed, as well as long-cherished events in Altadena.
By MIKEY HIRANO CULROSS
RAFU STAFF WRITER
The second of three parts.
The band Kokoro was hardly two bars into a note-perfect rendition of Santana’s “The Game of Love” when a few gentle shrieks rang out.
Topped with a sparkling tiara, Susan Tsuji was among those pulling a partner in a rush to the dance floor, usually known as the basketball court at the Pasadena Buddhist Temple.
“The younger generations don’t have this, not like we did,” claimed Tsuji, who was celebrating her birthday – thus the tiara – while attending the dance hosted by the temple on Nov. 15. She said getting together for dances was a valuable part of growing up for young people in the 1970 and ’80s.
“For us, this was the way for friends to meet when we were in our teens. This was a crucial outlet for us socially.”
All the fun and nostalgia seemed to align just right, resulting in the kind of atmosphere that might remind many of the best high school dance they ever attended. And fittingly, it was held in a gymnasium.
It also served as a reaffirmation of sorts, as the Pasadena Buddhist Temple continued to rebound from the chaos and disruptions that came with the devastating Eaton Fire in January.
More than 9,000 homes and buildings were destroyed by the blaze, including those belonging to several of the guests at the dance. Along with the property lost, cherished events and community rites were cast aside, including PBT’s annual Obon Festival, a gathering that draws several hundred each summer.
“The whole floor was covered with an inch of ash and probably asbestos, and that took two-plus rounds of intense, thorough cleaning,” said Shelley Yamane-Shinmoto, a board member at PBT. The gym, temple sanctuary, teahouse and the other facilities escaped serious fire damage by the most fortuitous stroke of luck, as the fire consumed several adjacent homes in the West Altadena neighborhood it has called home since the 1950s.
As houses burned and fiery embers blew around them on Jan. 8, Elliot Sloane and his brother-in-law Michael Murray noticed smoke rising from the temple grounds. Even with the Sloane home in danger, the pair hopped the shared fence, grabbed hoses and started wetting the hot spots that had been ignited in a wooden temple walkway railing from the fire on Montana Street.
When temple co-president Lori Hatakeyama arrived with her husband Alan to open the parking lot gates, they found Sloane and Murray on the roof of the hondo, wetting it down.
Temple co-president Jeannie Toshima said their quick action almost certainly saved the traditionally styled and built temple, which would have burned to the ground.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see that you’re all here,” Toshima said to those attending the dance on Nov. 15. It was a cold, rainy night, and there had been more than a slight worry that even those who had purchased tickets in advance would opt to stay home, rather than brave the elements and show up.
“We couldn’t have our Obon this year, and that was heartbreaking, but I think in a lot of ways, this is kind of better.”
The dance was quickly organized after two postponements of the festival as hazard abatement continued through the summer, and the ultimate realization that the facility simply would not be ready to safely host Obon.
The dance supplanted Obon as the temple’s top fundraiser of the year. The cleanup was an extensive and expensive endeavor, with every corner of the buildings scrubbed, wall coverings replaced, and new ventilation equipment installed.
More than revenue was raised, tough. In contrast to the inhospitable conditions outside, the mood inside the gym soared past a mere party atmosphere. It was a palpable feeling of a community re-engaging with one another, as well as with the reasons they enjoyed the gatherings they shared on a regular basis, even if only once or twice a year.
“This community is really tight,” said birthday girl Tsuji. “A night like tonight really brings us back together, and reminds us of when life was really simple. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it’s true, and that’s an important bond for us.”
Ken Sakamoto loves to chat, often about cars, but also about whatever’s happening at the moment. That’s what he and 100 or so locals had assembled to do on Dec. 13, a sunny, picture-perfect morning in the parking lot of the now-defunct Rite-Aid at Lake Avenue and Altadena Drive.
“It’s just someplace to go, where many of the car guys are those who lost their homes or their cars, or both,” Sakamoto explained. “It’s a gathering place where we just like to talk and be there with each other.”
Sakamoto is one of the regulars at the weekly Altadena Cars and Chat, a congress of neighbors who bond over classic vehicles, and the shared trauma of the Eaton Fire.
Last week’s lineup up of 50-60 rides was impressive: an impeccable 1946 Ford pickup, a late ’70s VW Karmann Ghia, a cherry-red 1986 Corvette that replaced a similar dream car destroyed in the fire.
But it’s not really a car show. There are no trophies, few demonstrations and most of the conversations are about anything but cars.
Sakamoto is a true celebrity in the world of classic car restoration, a legendary body man who works miracles with a hammer, transforming dented sheet metal to renewed and gleaming glory.
On this Saturday, however, he was handing out bottles of water, bananas and snacks, at the same time leading a Christmas toy drive for local kids. Sakamoto lost his home as well, along with a valuable Mercedes, but he’s thankful his studio survived.
“If the wind kept on going, my shop would have burned down, and I would have really been upset,” he said about Sunchaser Studios, his workshop and classroom in east Pasadena. “I had some spare tools at my house, but not the good ones.”
A longtime repair specialist, he opened his facility in 1978 and for the last two decades has concentrated on holding workshops in the art of metal work. Featured in magazines and video journals, he has hosted car enthusiasts from across the U.S. and from overseas, to demonstrate his techniques of reshaping steel without fiberglass fillers, restoring the metal to a smooth, mirrored finish.
Everything came to a halt on Jan. 7, when the fire raged from its origin point, barely a mile to the north. If not for a shift in the howling winds, the shop quite possibly would have been among the structures lost to the flames.
The studio did not escape damage, however, as smoke and ash poured into the shop through the open louvered windows where the walls meet the ceiling.
“It was hazy inside here, and when I left at around 4:15, I saw smoke but not fire,” Sakamoto recalled. When he returned a couple of days later, practically every surface in the shop was covered in ash.
Sakamoto has spent most of this year cleaning, including using a leaf blower to clear out the remaining debris. He hopes he can get back to holding workshops by the spring.
It was a chance introduction that connected Sakamoto with Dave Stone, a longtime Pasadena resident who was documenting the scores of burned-out cars left by the fire. He noticed many destroyed electric vehicles had been marked with blue lightning bolts – to alert fire and EPA crews to the presence of hazardous battery materials – while gasoline-powered cars bore a “Not EV” tag.
Stone began posting his photos online and “Not EV” soon became a slogan among local car enthusiasts. When he read about an Altadena man who had lost his freshly-delivered Corvette to the fire – before he’d had the chance to drive it even once – Stone helped launch efforts to find a replacement.
That campaign brought the the local auto community together, and Altadena Cars and Coffee was born.
“I told Dave I want to be part of this, he said he needed help selling our T-shirts,” Sakamoto said.
He’s in his early 70s, but Sakamoto is in no hurry to get his home rebuilt. He hasn’t set a timeline for himself, focusing more on protecting his comfort rather than pushing progress.
“It’s a full-time job,” he said of sifting through insurance papers, learning about building requirements, and attending informational meetings and seminars. He has re-established much of the landscaping at his property to help the neighborhood feel lived-in, and plans to include a six-car garage and a new studio with his future home.
“I’m not putting stress on myself. When I get it done, it will happen.”