In the shadow of Exposition Park, a quiet but fierce battle is unfolding over the future of a multifamily complex on West 39th Street. For decades, Latino families have called these apartments home, raising children, building friendships, and weaving themselves into the fabric of South Los Angeles. Now, those same families are fighting to stay as their landlord pushes forward with plans to demolish the buildings and replace them with market-rate housing.
The dispute, which has come to be known as the Los Angeles housing battle, has galvanized tenants and housing advocates who say the city is failing to protect its most vulnerable residents. Members of the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment (ACCE) gathered outside City Hall in the rain, alongside Reverend Rae Huang, associate director of Housing Now and the Housing Justice Coalition, to demand that the Los Angeles Department of Building and Safety enforce existing rent stabilization ordinances. They also criticized the Los Angeles Housing Department for allowing the property owner to sidestep local laws in order to facilitate the demolition.
A community under threat
For residents like 75-year-old Balbino Nerio, a Salvadoran immigrant who has lived in his apartment for 26 years, the stakes are deeply personal. Nerio, who relies on his pension and the sale of backpacks, suitcases, and bags on the street, fears losing not just his home but the neighborhood that has sustained him for decades. His story is echoed by Petra Adame, another longtime tenant, who recalls how residents raised their children together long before landlord Saman Steghball acquired the building in 2017 through corporate entities like 38 St LLC and 3927 Wisconsin LLC.
Steghball, co-founder of the downtown menswear brand Barabas Men—known for selling shirts worn by Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán—has become a symbol of the pressures facing working-class communities. Tenants argue that his intention is to replace affordable housing with units that original residents simply cannot afford, a pattern that has played out across Los Angeles as developers eye prime real estate near universities and cultural landmarks.
Permits and delays
The controversy escalated after the Los Angeles Department of City Planning approved the landlord’s initial development application in 2023. Multiple municipal extensions have pushed eviction deadlines to January 31, 2027, but tenants remain in limbo. Sharon Sandow, a public relations representative for the Los Angeles Housing Department, stated that the department has investigated harassment claims, monitored needed repairs, and confirmed that demolition permits will not be approved until residents vacate and receive relocation assistance. Still, advocates say the process has been anything but transparent.
For immigrant households, language barriers and fear of retaliation often complicate access to help. Angelina Dumarot, deputy chief of staff for District 9 Councilmember Curren Price, has stepped in to provide bilingual liaison support and legal referrals, offering a lifeline to families who might otherwise be left to navigate the system alone.
Legal hurdles and inadequate offers
Lawyer Alex Scott from Movement Legal points to a state law passed in November 2025 under Section 65915(c)(3)(B)(i) of the California Government Code, which requires developers to replace demolished units with affordable housing for various income levels, including Low, Very Low, Extremely Low, and Acute Low Income categories. However, the current relocation offers—ranging from $13,500 to $27,000—are woefully insufficient for tenants accustomed to paying between $700 and $800 a month in rent. With California’s rental market continuing to climb, these sums barely cover a year of rent elsewhere.
Legal advocates are now considering lawsuits against the city, suing the landlord for compliance with the Housing Crisis Act, or pursuing separate harassment claims under the Tenant Anti-Harassment Ordinance. The outcome of this case could set a critical precedent for tenant protections across Los Angeles County, where the gap between housing costs and wages has become a defining crisis.
As the city's housing policies come under scrutiny, this battle highlights the urgent need for strict municipal oversight. The new housing laws aimed at addressing student rent crises are a step, but they do little for families like those on West 39th Street.
For the Latino families at risk, this is about more than a roof over their heads. It’s about preserving the community ties that have sustained them through generations. As the city weighs the future of this complex, the message from tenants is clear: they will not go quietly.
