Shuttered on the beach: Santa Monica’s History of Disenfranchising Black Residents and Its Efforts to Reconcile Today
- JCI Blog
- Feb 27
- 6 min read
A Black History Month Deep-Dive into Santa Monica’s Past, Present, and Future
by Natalia Nervi
In Santa Monica’s city hall, a motto appears on the city seal. Populus felix in urbe felice. Translated directly from Latin, the quote reads, “Happy people in a happy city.” There is no record of who came up with this motto, who approved it, and when- all historians can be sure of it is at least as old as City Hall itself, which opened its doors in 1938. This ambiguity has opened debates about alternative interpretations: perhaps it’s meant to read, “fortunate people in a fortunate land?” The Latin word felix was historically used only once in a geographic context. And why, if the intent was consistency, does the seal use both felix and felice? Though historians have no consensus on the origin of Santa Monica’s motto, they have plenty of records on the people who, for better or for worse, made the city what it is today.
In 1922, Black entrepreneurs Charles S. Darden and Norman O. Houston purchased beachfront land off of Pico Boulevard with intentions to develop a “first class resort” and tourist destination for Black travelers. Their plan included a bathhouse, dance hall, and amusement center. In the late 19th and early 20th century, Santa Monica had a thriving Black population made up in large part by those fleeing Jim Crow and racial prejudice in the South. California promised freedom, employment, and great weather, while Santa Monica promised affordable land and beautiful beaches. Black families got in on the ground floor and created vibrant, tight-knit communities. They lived alongside other Mexican, Asian, Jewish, and White Angelenos. Populus felix in urbe felice.
Once White business and homeowners got wind of this plan, they took swift action in the form of the Santa Monica Bay Protective League. Made up of at least 75 White Santa Monicans, described in a 1922 Los Angeles Times article as being “opposed to negroes [sic] encroaching upon the city,” the group lobbied city officials to deny construction permits and ensure the site was zoned for “residential use only.” Though California’s own civil rights laws were passed as early as 1893, they often went unenforced. Darden and Houston were forced to abandon their project. Not long after, the same site opened as a whites-only beach resort. Today, luxury hotel Shutters on the Beach sits on the same plot of land.
This was not the first and certainly not the last time Santa Monica’s Black community would face systemic racism and outright displacement. In the 1920s, the Santa Monica Bay Protective League went on to lobby city officials to close the Caldwell Dance Hall, a popular venue frequented by Black residents, musicians, and tourists. Black Santa Monicans were further segregated in public spaces, and Black community life increasingly concentrated around the historic Phillips Chapel Christian Methodist Episcopal Church in the Ocean Park neighborhood and other pockets of the city. Looking to enjoy the beaches that once promised freedom and leisure free of racial harassment, Black families congregated at the Bay Street Beach, which was pejoratively called “Inkwell Beach” by White residents. Like many Black Americans, the people of Santa Monica worked to create their own spaces in the face of exclusion. The Black community continued to thrive, now in their own neighborhoods and business districts, including the Broadway business district between 17th and 20th Avenues, the Belmar Triangle, and the Pico neighborhood. Populus felix in urbe felice.
With the explosion in construction of highways in the 1950s, Los Angeles began using eminent domain to acquire land deemed appropriate by the city to construct freeways, including the Interstate 10 (also known as the Santa Monica Freeway). These routes were chosen under the guise of ‘cleaning up’ the city’s poorest and ‘most crime-ridden’ areas, in an effort officials framed as beautifying Los Angeles. The use of eminent domain in Santa Monica (and elsewhere) disproportionately affected minority communities. The construction of this segment of the Interstate 10 freeway in particular displaced many Black families in the Pico neighborhood, and left those remaining in noise and air-polluted residences.
In 1957, Black entrepreneur Silas White made a plan to open a new beach club reminiscent of Darden and Houston’s 1920s resort. It was to take a long-abandoned building and turn it into a membership-based recreation and entertainment venue called the Ebony Beach Club. In a devastating final blow, just two months before it was set to open, the city voted to acquire the land once again through eminent domain with plans to build the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. Homes in the Belmar Triangle were acquired and cleared out to build this project as well. In some cases, after residents were forced out, homes were intentionally burned to the ground. Photos were used to justify the acquisition of the site for construction. In just one decade, many families who had benefitted from generations of homeownership were priced out of Santa Monica and forced to move elsewhere in Los Angeles. These Black Santa Monicans had persisted in the face of countless attempts to push them out of their homes. Despite this resilience, their California dreams went up in flames.
Populus felix in urbe felice.
The irony of Santa Monica’s city motto—given the period in which it was adopted—is not lost; it was a time when city officials and fellow Santa Monica residents went to great lengths to create problems for their neighbors. Those fortunate enough to live in this prosperous and beachfront community might be surprised to learn of the city’s past as a vibrant Black community, as the Black population sits at just 3% today.
Descendants of Black Santa Monicans, historians, and the City Council have been working to keep the memory of Black Santa Monica alive. In 2020, artist April Banks debuted “A Resurrection in Four Stanzas" at Historic Belmar Park. It is modeled after the shotgun home, an architectural style that those who migrated from the South brought with them to California and elsewhere. In 2021, a time capsule of Santa Monica’s African American history was put together by students at Santa Monica High School and buried at the door of the installation. It is set to be opened on Juneteenth of 2070. Santa Monica has also approved “right to return” measures for residents or relatives displaced by the construction of the Civic Center and 10 Freeway. As for the Ebony Beach Club, the city of Santa Monica recently settled with the family of Silas White for $350,000 over the city’s racially motivated seizure of land that White had lawfully leased-to-own.
The City Council has been taking actionable steps towards acknowledgement and reconciliation. Barry A. Snell, City Councilman for Santa Monica, states, “Historically, land use policies enacted by prior City Councils have decimated the Black community in Santa Monica. As a result, there are significant racial wealth gaps today, where the average black Santa Monican household has a fraction of the wealth of the average white Santa Monican household. That is why our present city council is establishing a reparation and landback task force to establish a framework to give back land or compensation for these prior discriminatory practices.”
Today, Santa Monica stands as a city celebrated for its beaches, culture, and progressive reputation. Yet beneath this image lies a history that complicates its sunny motto. Populus felix in urbe felice was never a universal promise; for decades, Black residents fought to build lives, communities, and businesses in a city that repeatedly denied them the very happiness and security the seal proclaims. Their stories of ambition, resilience, displacement, and remembrance underscore the need to expand our understanding of who shaped Santa Monica and who was pushed out of it. As descendants, artists, students, and advocates work to preserve this history, the city has an opportunity to reckon with its past and redefine what it means to create a truly “happy city” for all who call it home.
Black-owned businesses in Santa Monica:
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