Home and Away: Walsall vs. LA “I was born in Walsall.” Many of us from Walsall say that with pride. For those of us that were born there, it’s a part of our identities, We know the town for what it is, yet we remain proud, and not just because we feel lucky to have survived being born in the local hospital, which has the highest mortality rate in all of the UK. The writer Theodore Dalrymple described Walsall as “the ugliest town in the world... Ceaucescu's Romania with fast food outlets.. in the middle of one of the largest and most depressing contiguous areas of urban devastation in the world.” He’s not wrong. Welcome to Walsall. Theodore Dalrymple said this in an article he wrote for New Jersey-based publication, New Criterion. He was promptly responded to with a message from Walsall, via the press. That message was this: “Don’t ever come to Walsall again,” which is sound advice anyway, for absolutely anybody that’s not from Walsall themselves. The locals are able to sense interlopers. Perhaps they see something in their eyes; the faint presence of hope and innocence still remaining. There‘s none of that here. Theodore Dalrymple also wrote seperately that, “Poverty does not explain aggressive, criminal and self-destructive behaviour. In an African slum you will find among the very poor, living in dreadful circumstances, dignity and decency in abundance, which are painfully lacking in an average English suburb.” This rings painfully true.
People that were born in Walsall are much safer within its borders. We’re a collection of feral children, huddled together for comfort. We were born there, we can navigate its dangers and rules. Even so, in 1996, my mom’s boyfriend (now deceased) had acid thrown in his face, just outside of our home. His skin fused with his clothes, and weeks later, he had to have an eye removed. Acid is a common weapon in the UK, as firearms are illegal, and acid is inexpensive and untraceable. When he asked me, who I thought had done it, I said only that, “It could have been anyone.” - He got drunk every day, and never had a job in the time that I knew him. I would never wished it upon him, or anyone, but I had no feelings about it one way or another. My father (now deceased), quite casually, told me that he knew who did it, and that I was, “under no circumstances, to do anything about it.” I said only that, “I wasn’t thinking about it. I don‘t like the guy anyway,” and that was the end of the conversation. There are poorer places in the world, countries where there is war, bloodshed, famine and economic collapse. They may still have a better view, or at least nicer weather. In the Midlands, the temperature ranges from below freezing to never-quite-warm. The sun is constantly shielded behind a white blanket of impenetrable cloud - perfect conditions for the damp and mold which destroys the buildings and souls that live in them. It’s not the worst place the UK. It ranks only third place for crime and unemployment. Highest ranking is Moss Side in Manchester. They still have better hospital. When my brother sprained his ankle, I drove him to the rich peoples‘ hospital in the neighboring town. When he was rushed to our own local hospital due to an aneurysm, they had a 20-minute window to save his life. They took 40 minutes, and I lost the most wonderful person I ever knew. He officially died of natural causes, age 17. In keeping with Walsall’s spectacular run of dubious record-breaking, it is officially the location of one of the most polluted sites in all of Europe. I have no idea what it takes to qualify a site for that kind of title. Perhaps an old factory used lead or mercury for manufacturing. Maybe Walsall imported toxic waste, I don’t know. Walsall people do seem to have skin that is twice as thick as a normal person, and it’s home to one of the highest performing high schools in the UK. If what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, is it possible the toxic pollution is producing a race of super humans? Probably. I spent a lot of my youth sitting at bus stops, daydreaming. I never thought about how to escape Walsall particularly. I never thought that there was a better place out there somewhere. For those that listen to Morrissey or The Smiths, you haven’t heard it in its original context, unless you’ve heard it on a personal cassette player while sitting at a bus stop in the rain, in Walsall, or a place like it. Morrissey himself is from Manchester (also birthplace of Joy Division), which has almost the identical landscape. Music with such melancholy and despair is, in part, born of its environment. It provides comfort.
Walsall has its stars too: Boy George, Goldie and Rob Halford of Judas Priest. Zeppelin’s Robert Plant comes from West Bromwich. Steel Pulse is from Handsworth, famous for its riots, half a mile away from our home, The Specials are from neighboring city, Coventry, and Lemmy of Motörhead is from also nearby, but somehow very picturesque, Stoke-on-Trent. I’ve lived in Sheffield, renting a room from Jamies Reeves, the world’s strongest man in 1992, who carried me over his shoulder between bars when I drank too much (when he forced me to drink too much). In Birmingham, I hung out regularly with Duran Duran’s Roger Taylor in his studio; I’ve lived in Ozzy’s old Brum house. Birmingham is famous for its riots, from the 18th century all the way through to the 1960's, 80's, 2000's and the 2020's. In comparison to Walsall, Birmingham is still a paradise, though honestly, still grey and boring. At 19 years old, I went to Los Angeles, inspired by a casual suggestion from my Dad. “You’d probably like it out there,” he said. “You could get work as a photographer.” That was all I needed to hear. It took me no more than a few seconds to fall forever in love with Los Angeles. It was a different world. The colors were brighter, the air smelled sweeter, the people seemed happier and kinder, the food tasted better. I wanted to hug the city, I loved it so much. I had never been so happy, as I was during those first few weeks in Los Angeles. One month after arriving, I found a job, working as a graphic designer.
For people that don’t live in America, Los Angeles needs describing. Americans take for granted their comprehensive knowledge of their largest cities. For most foreigners, LA is just a city in America. If they are particularly knowledgable, they might know that LA is in California, which, is on the left side of the country. English people can be just as oblivious to geography outside its own borders, as America is, or even any other country. It’s only natural to focus on what’s in front of us. I never gave Los angeles much thought before I went there. To me, it was not Walsall, and that was its main selling-point. After having lived in Los Angeles, the simple act of watching movies, music videos, television shows and advertisements is an entirely different experience. I can’t help myself from saying, “I’ve been to that restaurant,” or “I’ve lived on that street,” and “I’ve driven down that road.” Hollywood is in Los Angeles, and all the largest film production companies in America are based there. The Hollywood entertainment industry broadcasts its message worldwide, and naturally they use their own backyard to make movies. Wherever in the world you are, switch on the TV and you’ll see Los Angeles. It’s not the movie-making that makes me love LA. California is the final frontier, the wild west. Pioneers still come from all around to stake their claim. It’s the birthplace of the personal computer, surfing, BMX bikes and skateboarding. It’s the home of Facebook and TED. It’s the media capital of the western world, but it has less obvious merits too. For me, Los Angeles has another more important quality that makes it welcoming. For every one person you meet in LA that was born a Los Angelino, you’ll meet another that just wanted to escape their home town, to find a better place. That makes it feel like home. |
