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There was a wearied pride in Fernando Ruiz’s voice as he led me on a tour of his family’s flour tortilla plant, La Gloria Foods in Boyle Heights.
We started in the back, where a massive sifter tossed flour inside a machine that spat out perfectly formed balls of dough. Two workers fed the orbs into a pneumatic press that smushed them into flat discs. Those raw tortillas slipped onto a seven-tiered conveyor belt that passed through an oven. The cooked results moved down the length of the factory, to men and women who stuffed them into bags decorated with La Gloria’s festive logo.
A family-run tortilla factory in Boyle Heights is in danger of closing amid an eminent domain dispute with the city over relocation fees for its tortilla machines.
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May 21, 2021 at 3:57 AM
Many residents expressed their opposition to specific development plans, said that the township doesn’t need more residential buildings or retail spaces and requested a public representative on the Planning Committee.
Mary Kay Adams objected to plans for 410 Main Street. She stated, “My neighbors started a Facebook page called ‘410MainStreetWO’ and are collecting petition signatures to stop it.” Adams said the proposed five-story building will be too high and won’t fit into the design of the neighborhood.
She noted that West Orange doesn’t need additional retail spaces because there are many empty stores right now. Adams concluded that the 410 Main Street area will be congested and will lack parking.
d today at the age of 98.
Goodbye to Ivry.
So Ivry Gitlis is gone, at the age of 98. To say that he was a ‘character’, who will be greatly missed, would be a ridiculous under-statement…
Born in Haifa – originally named Itzaak – to Russian-Jewish parents in 1922, he must have been an amazing child prodigy. At the age of eight, he was taken to see the great Bronislaw Hubermann; Ivry always remembered that Hubermann was sitting by a lake, dangling his feet in the water. This meeting, wet feet notwithstanding, led to Ivry making his way to Paris, accompanied by his (I’m sure – one could always feel it in Ivry’s personality) adoring mother, where he met and played for Thibaud and Enesco, and was accepted into the class of Jules Boucherit at the Paris Conservatoire at age 11. It feels strange, though, to use the words ‘Ivry’ and ‘Conservatoire’ in the same sentence. There was no way that Ivry would ever have fitted into any institution. His talent, his character,