There was no Pocho plaque in front of The Echo nightclub this morning, and that fact, which used to be unremarkable, is now significant. At about 10:30, sun bright, I parked in front of the building and looked around, having read a post about a project by the Pocho Research Society of Erased and Invisible History in Chicken Corner's own host, LA Observed (I had received a press release, third-hand, a few days earlier and had been planning to look for plaques, but couldn't get away from the roost, so I missed the moment in at least one locale....) Which is not to say there are no plaques whatsoever -- a sports walk of fame bronze tribute to the golfer Jerry Barber graces the sidewalk in front of The Echo. Other elements of the scene: a prominently displayed security camera and the original -- but painted over -- raised sign that reads Nayarit, the name of the bar and restaurant that preceded The Echo, which is about five or six years old. I called the Echo to see if there had been any Erased History plaque placed in front of its premises recently, and the woman who answered the phone said, indeed, there had been a plaque. Was it removed? I asked sneakily. She said she didn't know. I told her it wasn't there anymore.

The Pocho Research Society is quite serious, despite the prank-like quality of the operation. In their pre-action cummunique (or press release, if you will) they stated, eloquently:

Dedicated to the systematic investigation of space, memory and displacement, the PRS understands history as a battleground of the present, a location where hidden & forgotten selves hijack & disrupt the oppression of our moment.

Within this massive “land grab” [enacted through gentrification] questions like ‘where do drag queens, closeted quebradita dancers and gay cholos go once they been pushed out?’ arise. How and who defines a space? Is a space defined by its present incarnations or does its past ruthlessly resurface like dust in unswept corners?

Good questions. For the complete communication, check the jump.

A bit of discrepancy between press release and some of the coverage, such as that of KPCC's Adolfo Guzman-Lopez, who rode with a female artist as she affixed plaques. The PR says it's an Echo Park operation. Guzman-Lopez cites Silver Lake.

The Pocho Research Society of Erased and Invisible History Announces: Echoes in the Echo A Series of Public Interventions About Gentrification In and Around Echo Park

What? Clandestine historic plaques placed on sidewalks outside of various hipster bars When? June 24 2007 Where? The Echo, Cha Cha, Bar 107

A group known as the Pocho Research Society (PRS) has installed “unofficial” plaques in public spaces to commemorate formerly queer Latina/o bars in the Echo Park, Silverlake and the Downtown area on June 24, 2007. The group operates in a clandestine fashion. Since the longevity of the plaque at the sites is unknown, visit the following locations ASAP in order to view before they are taken down.

Site Locations: Le Barcito, currently the Cha Cha 2375 Glendale Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90039

Klub Fantasy at the Nayarit aka The Echo 1822 W Sunset Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90026

Womyn Image Makers' Club Fire at the Nayariit currently The Echo 1822 W Sunset Blvd, LA, CA 90026

The Score 107 W. 4th St, Downtown Los Angeles, currently Bar 107

Echoes in the Echo is a series of public interventions that will explore History and memory in and around Echo Park. This phase of the project commemorates a few of many queer Latina/o spaces that were a ‘home’ to many for periods of up to a couple of decades and have since changed ownership and now cater to a new, straighter, younger and whiter clientele. This project takes place while the city, itself, is at a crossroads in its own history. Dramatic increases in real estate prices coupled with commercially driven development projects facilitated by elected officials are two of a multitude of forces that push many working class communities out of the city “core”. Waves of new ‘immigrants’ (albeit from the Midwest) have in the process displaced longstanding cultural spaces created over several decades. Within this massive “land grab” questions like ‘where do drag queens, closeted quebradita dancers and gay cholos go once they been pushed out?’ arise. How and who defines a space? Is a space defined by its present incarnations or does its past ruthlessly resurface like dust in unswept corners?

The PRS is a semi-anonymous collective that investigates Los Angeles history through various modes of public intervention. For this project the PRS collaborated with numerous writers and artists who were patrons and organizers of these spaces. Dedicated to the systematic investigation of space, memory and displacement, the PRS understands history as a battleground of the present, a location where hidden & forgotten selves hijack & disrupt the oppression of our moment.