Gone.
That is what the beloved nursery known as The Jungle was, as of 4:15 this afternoon.
From Culver City.
Probably forever.
The last evidence of 10 years of hometown history was evaporating silently as the sun slid lower in the cloudless western sky.
A Few More Days
One of the last of the heartbroken workers who is being laid off told the newspaper The Jungle staff would need until the end of the week to clear out the entire inventory.
People don’t talk much these days about nurseries being magically popular because the image they conjure up is so pastoral, so 19th century.
But The Jungle was loved in Culver City for the policies, personalities and the generosity of the Saez brothers, who are moving on to 1900 Sawtelle Blvd., West Los Angeles, a neighborhood where Japanese-operated nurseries have thrived for many years. Their new West L.A. telephone number was still posted near the entry of the Culver City story in giant letters, 310.235.2875.
Will They Return
The brothers wanted to remain in Culver City, and now they talk vaguely about returning some day, in a few years. It would have to be awhile because they are locked into a lease at their new location.
Practically escorted to the city limits at the end of the business day by a double knockout punch, the advent of the Expo light rail line and redevelopment as a Culver City concept, there were no tears in sight when the last visitor departed the grounds a little before 4 o’clock.
One Explanation
That was a tribute to the self-control of a smattering of laid-off employees who were performing duties in the emptying main area for the final time.
For a decade, the Saez brothers operated one of the most talked-about and appreciated businesses of any stripe in this town.
But since the Metropolitan Transit Authority owns the property — which was inarguably blighted when The Jungle moved in — and since the MTA is the power behind the light rail, The Jungle was forced to vacate the grounds.
The Legal Wars
The brothers fought for time in court, but in the end the challenge became smotheringly expensive.
No one in Culver City, or in the MTA, knows what will be built at the northwest corner of Washington and Robertson, or even whether it will have any direct relationship with the light rail line.
The mood at The Jungle this afternoon was mordant.
As the day wore down, few people, mainly employees, were on the grounds, moving slowly and noiselessly among the flourishing green plants.
Opposite Directions
One Saez brother, Gerard, was driving away to the new location in West L.A., and he told the visitor that his brother Carlos was inside.
Carlos Saez paused just for a moment from his work. This was not a good time to talk.
His emotion-drained face and his sobering words clearly conveyed a family’s stunned, saddened feelings.
“This is the close of a negative time and probably the start of a happier time,” he said.
The Last Man Standing
It was time to go. Almost. A lone worker, a husky young man in a black tee-shirt and a thick thatch of black hair, gazed out the door, hoping for a miracle.
His heart was talking, but choppily. His lips did not seem to move.
“Sad,” he said.
“Five years.
“I don’t know what I am going to do.
“I need a job. I am looking.”
