The Little College That Could--If People Only Knew

There is a college out there, somewhere, in West L.A.

And if you know that much about West L.A. College, you are doing well.

Overshadowed by giant Santa Monica College, shunned by its neighbors, this small, hillside community college is struggling with a public profile so vanishingly small that college officials can credibly blame low enrollment on general ignorance: No one knows it’s there.

Faculty members fax out maps to prospective visitors. Job candidates arrive late for interviews anyway. Even longtime students sometimes cruise by the entrance.

Crystal Adams, a 27-year-old sociology major, complains that the most constant question she gets when she tells people she goes to West L.A. College is: “Where is that?”

Student Theresa Arreola has a stock answer: “I say, ‘It’s by Denny’s on Jefferson.’ People know where that is.”

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How does a college end up being overshadowed by a Denny’s?

Start with its setting: West L.A. College sits on a sun-drenched, northwest-facing hillside overlooking Culver City off Overland Avenue.

The spot is beautiful--but completely hidden from

view by trees and buildings. Blink, and you’ll miss the turnoff, marked only by small gray concrete monument signs.

This single entrance is in Culver City; the rest of the campus is in unincorporated L.A. County. The monuments are a reluctant concession to Culver City’s restrictive sign ordinances. Squat and colorless, they crouch in the weeds and defy passing motorists to spot them.

The campus, once you find it, boasts views from the ocean to the Getty Center. The air is clear up here, and the sunsets are brilliant.

But none of this has saved the college from being virtually orphaned by its closest neighbor, Culver City.

Over the years, the high school students from Culver City have largely deserted West L.A. for Santa Monica College. The city’s businesses have not risen to support the college. The city’s senior citizens go elsewhere for their watercolor classes.

The campus of 7,000 “is like a little child that needs adoption,” said Tom Haley, division chairman of math and science. “We are a great institution . . . but Santa Monica is just so good at P.R. We are not. We are hidden here.”

From its inauspicious entrance, one must follow the narrow, tree-lined entrance road for some yards before the campus’ terraced heights finally swing into view.

The school consists of blocky, ‘70s-era institutional buildings and a cluster of windowless portables in a wilderness of chaparral.

To see it is to understand why people on campus have been talking for years about its “potential.”

Although established in the late 1960s, West L.A. College was never fully built, a victim of Proposition 13 and chronic low enrollment.

There is no cafeteria. Half the campus consists of temporary buildings, exacerbating the college’s not-quite-there feel.

New buildings, including a fine arts center still under construction, have spruced things up a bit. But on the whole, few buildings besides the library seem designed to exploit the remarkable setting.

“It was done very stupidly,” said Lorraine Gollub Heldman, widow of the college’s first president, Morris J. Heldman. She said her husband’s high hopes for the college met with lasting disappointment.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

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Back when the college was founded, it was to be Culver City’s in the same way its rival is now Santa Monica’s. College administrators even had their offices at Culver City City Hall--in the old jail.

Had the relationship bloomed, perhaps West L.A. would not now be among the smallest of L.A.’s community colleges and less than a third the size of Santa Monica’s. Perhaps Culver City would even have allowed the college to put up a big sign.

Instead, there have been conflicts with nearby homeowners over noise, traffic, construction and, of course, the controversial signs.

There is also a touchy issue of ethnic differences between the campus and the city. Starting in the late 1970s, the college experienced what looked like white flight. The once largely white student body gave way to a college population that is now 56% African American, more than five times the percentage of black Culver City residents.

How important this ethnic difference is in town-gown relations isn’t clear. But some faculty members and students say it has played a role. Some blame the charged atmosphere surrounding black student protests in the late 1960s. Others say minority students have grown wary of traffic stops by Culver City police.

Culver City residents call it “waste-away” instead of West L.A., complained John Edward Jordan, a professor of speech and communications. “What does that tell you?”

Culver City officials downplay such concerns. The city, they point out, has changed, too, ethnically and politically.

And lately, it has reached out to the campus anew.

Under consideration is a proposal by Culver City to annex the campus. City Councilman Albert Vera calls the college “the best-kept secret in Culver City,” and wants to bring it into the city’s embrace.

The city has even asked the college to take its name, proposing that it be called West L.A. College in Culver City.

Most colleges would flinch at the appended phrase. But this is West L.A. College, and about this there is little debate: The college needs to give an extra hint to those still searching the map for its location.