Approaching Norco from the highway, I could see from afar the refineries and chemical industries marking the entrance to the town. As we reached the plants, we passed under an awning of pipes, connecting the refineries on one side of the road to the side.
Our first priority was to explore the neighborhood surrounding Apple Street, the town’s narrow, main residential road flanked by small, mostly one-level homes with modest front yards. Many of the driveways featured SUVs or pickup trucks. I could see laundry drying on a clothes line in some backyards. Even from the neighborhood, I could see the smoke rising from the refineries. At the time, approximately 12:50 pm, several male residents were out mowing their front lawns. This reminded me of the description in Working-Class Heroes of community members’ careful maintenance of their properties.
Occasionally, children rode by on their bicycles. One of the biking duos included a black child and a white child. I wondered what this said about Norco’s racial construct; does it mean that Norco, like Beltway, will welcome minorities into their neighborhood as long as their socioeconomic class and personal conduct fits the community’s values? I also noticed that along the road, telephone lines were decorated with 14-star American flags. At first I thought this was an adaptation of the Confederate flag, but then remembered that the Confederacy only had eleven states.
I tried to see whether most households had fences around their property and whether they kept their front doors open. I did not notice any open front doors; does this mean there is a high crime rate or that people do not interact much with their neighbors? However, because I saw barely any fences, locals must not try that hard to keep out other people.
In the undeveloped area of Norco near the river, across from yet even more chemical plants, we saw construction equipment, raised wooden railroad tracks and numerous “Danger: Do not enter” signs. So, like good sociologists, we checked out those off-limits areas. There, we discovered a large dirt territory reserved for motocross and RVing. Three shirtless, tattooed men on 4 wheelers unsuccessfully attempted to conquer a large dirt mound. As we observed these men, the park ranger approached us in a pick-up, and asked if we "were with those guys". We said no, and he rushed off towards them. After talking for several minutes, the ranger left and the men continued RVing.
In order to meet some townies, we stopped at a grocery store, where we split up into duos to speak to the locals on a more personal level. Walking around the supermarket, I noticed there was a section devoted to incomplete items, such as individual cans of beer or a 5-pack that was clearly once a 6-pack. I had never seen these before and thought it was “cute” that they sold individual beers. However, one group member informed me that those were items sold at clearance prices because people had stolen parts of them. Is stealing common in Norco? And if it was, what do most people steal? Why risk punishment for a single can of free beer?
During check-out, Sean and I spoke to a female cashier, who told us she went to Destrehan High School. We asked her where we could find a good restaurant, and she laughed, saying that there is “no good place to eat here”. Instead, most locals drive 10 to 15 minutes outside Norco to Destraham for any decent eating places. She said that most restaurants are closed Sunday nights. On education, she remarked that Norco offers one Catholic school with grades kindergarten through eighth. Higher education must be sought elsewhere, outside the city.
As we left Norco, we passed an outdoor recreation area. We visited the spot, located on a tributary of the lake. There were two parties here: a family with young children and a group of mid-twenties individuals. The family was fishing and jetskiing, where the other party enjoyed a few beers while crabbing. Overall, the only people I saw while in Norco were the neighborhood children and men, the RVers, the supermarket employees and the two groups by the water. This is a total of abut 20 people. Where was everyone else in Norco on a sunday? Do most people either engage in outdoor activities or stay inside at home since there is no entertainment? Does the lack of things to do motivate families to spend more time together or does it cause bored children to resort to deviant behavior for stimulation?
The Valero St. Charles Refinery, on the outskirts of the town, featured signs proclaiming “Our company, our community, our united way”. We drove through a public road cutting through the plant and discovered a chart of injury statistics. On that day, 117 days had passed since the last refinery accident and 146 days since the last chemical plant incident. I thought it was interesting that they publicized these statistics, since most corporations try to conceal any injuries. Maybe this is motivation about how great it is to work at the plant? That they managed to serve the refineries without sustaining any injuries?
I was amazed at how loud it was inside the plant complex; the sound of the machinery was ongoing. How does this affect the community surrounding the refinery? Do locals acclimate to the sounds? Do people have trouble sleeping? Overall, the factory seemed dusty and rusty; like an urban jungle. The fences had barbed wire and closed off ares with signs declaring "U.S. Foreign Trade Zone". What does the refinery make, and do most residents know what cause they serve?
-Abigail Levner
Monday, 5 October, 2009
On October 5, we returned to Norco with Sean’s friend, Jeff, a Norco native and our new tour guide of the town. During the car ride, Jeff openly gave us an insider’s perspective to living in Norco and offered generous insight into its social structure.
“You either work in the plant or in Norco,” Jeff said. “Once you reach your 40s or 50s, you don’t care about leaving.” Jeff’s statements made it seem as though Norco is a town that you settle down in, grow roots and stay. People may have no desire to leave the town where they grew up and later served by working in the plants or at a small business.
To introduce us to a new side of Norco, Jeff directed us to a second residential neighborhood, which he labeled as the “black neighborhood” and “on the other side of the tracks”. This was in fact not a social metaphor but a factual statement: Norco seems to be divided in half by a railroad track, creating two distinct communities. I don’t know if the natives voluntarily or consciously zoned themselves into these districts, but it was interesting to be able to compare the two areas, especially since I had not even known a residential community existed away from Apple Street.
The homes on the main road through this neighborhood were well kept, similar to the homes in the first neighborhood. I tried to make small observations on the physical aspects that could lead to some social commentary, such as if front doors were left open or if there were fences around property lines. During our drive, I did not see any open front doors unless there was someone standing nearby or on the home’s front porch. The same is true of the “white” community; no open doors. However, unlike in the “white” community, this neighborhood did have fences around property lines. I don’t know if this is because the land plots here are larger than the ones in the first community, where there may not have been enough space allotted for physical boundaries, or because the residents here feel a need to define and protect their space.
While the homes along the main road were well maintained, as we strayed deeper into the neighborhood (which really was not that deep), the houses looked older and more dilapidated. Some houses sat on concrete blocks or stilts and there were a few trailers. Rusty cars and garbage decorated many front lawns. I saw several houses with people congregating on the front porch. Passing by one house in the back part of the area, I saw a group of about 5 black adults sitting on a front porch. They did not seem to be doing anything but talking and they looked at us curiously as we drove by. I am sure that the neighborhood residents are familiar with the people in their small community and immediately identified us as strangers. Maybe we gave them something interesting to discuss since they probably don’t encounter many “tourists”. Seeing this also reminded me of home, where my friends and I would often randomly stop friends’ houses to visit and would often spend hours hanging out in the basement or in the backyard talking about anything. This is a social activity in which many people partake and it does not necessarily exemplify “lazy” behavior, although the extent does vary. For instance, when we passed by this group it was around 3:30 pm on a Monday. Why were these people not at work? Do they work at night? Had they already finished work for the day? Are they employed?
Another comparison I noted between the neighborhoods was that this one offered more outdoor activities. It featured two playgrounds and a covered basketball court. No one was using them at these times, although there was a young white boy sitting alone on one the playground swings. The playgrounds were both fenced in. There was also a church and a small graveyard near the older homes. Like in the first neighborhood, there were no sidewalks at all.
After this tour, we returned to the Apple Street community and visited one of Sean’s high-school-aged friends, Keith, who welcomed us into his home to speak with him and his mother. We removed our shoes before entering the house through the garage and as we sat in their blue-carpeted living room with imitation wood paneling, I tried to juggle listening to this Keith’s mother tell us about Norco and absorbing the home’s arrangement. The room was about 10 by 15 feet with a couch, love seat and recliner arranged to focus on the flat screen television on the opposite wall. Family photographs, landscape and religious paintings covered the walls. Several built-in shelves held unused candles, small porcelain collectables and more family photographs.
Keith’s mother, who had been sitting on the couch with her laptop in front of her and watching television, seemed surprised to see us and amused by our project but was completely open to answering our questions, starting off with “Well, whatcha want to know?”
She told us that people stay in Norco generation after generation and usually work at salons or at one of the refineries. People are mostly Republicans, Christian and conservative. We learned that one of Norco’s plants had exploded in the 1980s, and as if to prove of the validity of this event, Keith presented us with a framed print-out photograph of the explosion that had been sitting in their living room. Later, the conversation moved to crime in the area, of which there was not much. Police mainly busied themselves with busting high school parties. According to Keith, the police one conducted Operation Snowsled, which involved raiding the houses of potential drug dealers or those in possession of drugs (mainly marijuana). Keith indulged us with a story of how he and his friends once witnessed a fight between some locals and the police and despite their impartial observation, Keith and his friends were almost tazed and forced to lie face down on the ground until his mother came to pick them up.
We left the home with some more insight into Norco life and headed for the lake. We drove down a long dirt road surrounded on both sides by leafless, dead-looking trees. Jeff told us the condition of these trees was due to acid rain.
We soon passed under a graffiti-embellished highway to the lakefront. There was no social activity here, except for an older man fishing alone.
-Abigail Levner
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