- Share via
It’s Sunday afternoon in Long Beach, and in a quiet neighborhood along the L.A. River a small community of charros is getting ready for “El Show de los Caballos.”
Dressed in a metallic teal shirt, rhinestone-studded leather belt, cowboy boots and a black Tejana, Beto Garcia clicks open Facebook Live to invite his friends and followers to the show that evening.
“Estamos en vivo mi gente, aquí en la ciudad de Long Beach,” he says. “No se lo pierdan por ningún motivo.” We’re live in the city of Long Beach. Don’t miss it.
For years now, Garcia and his friends have gathered on a block of equestrian-zoned homes in the shadow of the port of Long Beach, to hold onto a lifestyle they brought from their hometowns in Mexico and to relax and disconnect from the stresses of their everyday lives.
Some of them own homes in the neighborhood, which is one of the few remaining equestrian-zoned blocks in the city. Others keep their horses there. On Sunday evenings, they get together and make their way to a downtown strip mall parking lot and put on a show on horseback.
Guadalupe Perez, the architect behind the weekly gatherings, steps out of his backyard dressed in navy blue charro clothing. He places a brown leather saddle on his black Friesian steed, Viento Negro, before warming it up with a walk along the concrete behind his home.
Banda music plays on dusty stereo speakers and children race around on bicycles wearing cowboy hats and boots just like their fathers. Nearby, pedestrians take leisurely strolls along the Wrigley Greenbelt and bike riders zip across the L.A. River trail overhead.
Just before 5 p.m., Perez helps load three horses onto a trailer to drive to the gathering. Three other men will take the three-mile trek to downtown on horseback.
After they arrive at the parking lot on the corner of Anaheim Street and Cedar Avenue, Garcia acts as the emcee for the evening, introducing his friends and their horses while a crowd grows around the lot.
Perez takes center stage as the sun sets to sing on horseback. He performs classic rancheras like “Un Puño de Tierra” and “Que Chulada de Mujer.”
Perez, known as Don Lupe among his friends, has been recording music for over 20 years as “El Jefe de Santa Clara.”
When he immigrated to the U.S. in 1976 from the small town of Los Mesquites, Jalisco, he would dream every night that he was back home on his ranch with his family and their animals, he said.
He landed in Long Beach 40 years ago and started the weekly gatherings in 2022 after he bought a house on San Francisco Avenue in Wrigley.
1
2
3
1. Several charros who live in Long Beach keep their horses in an equestrian-friendly neighborhood near the Los Angeles River. On Sunday, they travel to a parking lot in downtown Long Beach, where they host a musical show. (Jill Connelly / For De Los) 2. A man rides a bike between the L.A. River and the equestrian neighborhood in Long Beach. (Jill Connelly / For De Los) 3. Guadalupe Perez, left, rides a dancing horse, Galen, with his cousin Cesar Perez riding Viento Negro. (Jill Connelly / For De Los)
The horse-zoned properties on that block are some of the only places left that maintain the city’s once thriving equestrian landscape. It is one of six equestrian zones protected by horse overlay zoning adopted by the city in 1977, some of which have since been lost to development or abandoned. Renee Lawler, who first moved to the block in 1981, says the equestrian community in Long Beach is historic, fragile and deserves to thrive.
“Oftentimes, they’ll gather at Lupe’s house here, you’ll hear the mariachis and, I mean, it’s really fun. That is definitely keeping the culture alive…that’s what this is all about,” Lawler said.
Shortly after buying the house, Perez began inviting family and friends on the block to gather every Sunday evening at his restaurant, Bonanza Tacos and Mariscos in West Long Beach, promoting his business as well as showcasing the beauty and talent of their cowboy cohort to the surrounding community.
“Es una terapia,” he says. It’s like therapy.
What began as small gatherings outside of his restaurant grew until they eventually moved to a bigger spot downtown, making room for more horses and a bigger audience.
Singing his original songs on horseback is a dream Perez has held onto since childhood. At “El Show de Caballos,” he can.
“Quiero dejarle a mi raza,
una canción bien cantada
para que todos se acuerden
del Jefe de Santa Clara,” he sings.
I want to leave my people a song, well sung, so that they all remember “El Jefe de Santa Clara.”
In the crowd downtown, towering over the audience on his seven-foot horse, a man with hair as white as his embroidered charro shirt sits calmly admiring the other horses.
Antonio Rivera, 80, is the oldest man on the block and the most respected.
“Los caballos, me inspiran,” he said. The horses inspire me.
Rivera, a retired ex-mechanic for Star-Kist on Terminal Island, still remembers saving up at 14 years old to buy his first horse in the small ranching town of La Villita in Zacatecas, where he grew up.
Before moving to the U.S. at 16, he sold his horses to have enough money to navigate the country on his own.
When he arrived, it was like falling in a black hole, he said.
Desperate to go back to ranching, he bought a few chickens and roosters and within a few years had purchased his first horse for $500. In 1999, he bought a home in Wrigley from a man who had once bought a horse from him.
Over the course of 25 years he has poured his life into the place he calls Rancho La Villita. When his wife died two years ago, the 20 horses that he cares for became his companions.
Reflecting on his life, Rivera said no amount of money could replace the adrenaline and peace he feels while riding a horse.
“Para mi esto es lo mejor,” he said. There’s nothing better.
Many who attend the Sunday shows, share the same love for ranch life.
Leaning on a car parked along the curb on Anaheim Street, Trino Alvarez watches the horses and the charros from a few feet away. He travels from Paramount every Sunday. Being from Michoacan, the show reminds him of his family, some of his cousins still participate in the charro sport back home, he said.
Across the lot, wearing a tan Mexico baseball hat, Jesus Rosas walks up with his one-year-old daughter in his arms while his wife and their three other children follow closely behind. He lives in Long Beach and learned about the gathering on social media.
“I like coming to see the horses, the music, everything,” he said.
Rosas is from Jalisco and said he recognizes the ranchos that the horseback riders come from.
Around 7 p.m., Rivera and his white horse, Loco, grow tired. Quietly, he waves goodbye to a few of his friends and he and Loco ride off into the dark, with the glow of the streetlights guiding their path back home to Rancho La Villita.
The loud music, singing and chatter continues as the smell of smoke, onions and carne asada from the nearby taquero linger in the air.
Laura Anaya-Morga is a freelance writer based in Fontana.
More to Read
The Latinx experience chronicled
Get the Latinx Files newsletter for stories that capture the multitudes within our communities.
You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.
