By Jim Berg

As I sat in a Granada Hills park on the morning of January 17, waiting for the sun to rise, my only thought for the future was that this was going to change everything. In two directions I could see flames licking the morning sky less than a block away. With my neighbors I shared a comforting camaraderie as we gathered around a car radio, hungry for news about the extent of the calamity we had just experienced. There was a disbelieving moan when they said it was only a 6.6. Surely this must be the Big One, we thought. Then we heard that the epicenter was in nearby Northridge. We were glad to know that we had experienced the worst of the quake, because if the rest of the city was in the same shape as us, we were in big trouble.

The sun rose to reveal the hitherto unseen damage: a crack in my apartment building a foot wide from the ground to the top of the third floor. The building had been split in half. The south half was a foot further south than its foundation, giving it a precarious list. The north half wasn’t as bad — it was only a couple of inches south of its foundation. For better or worse, my apartment was in the north half.

Two days later, the evacuation of my block was in full swing. Every imaginable type of vehicle was being loaded with furniture, appliances, and belongings. Oddly enough, no one was really concerned about the building collapsing while they were retrieving their stuff. The greater concern was that a building inspector, backed by the National Guard, would swoop in to deny entry into the building. Rumor had it that they were starting in Sherman Oaks and working their way north. I was no exception. I had retrieved my valuables from my apartment on the day of the quake, and now I was back with a U-Haul to get the rest. My apartment was in the less dangerous half of the building, I rationalized.

Now I am moved in to my editor’s house in my beloved NoHo. No longer can I be accused of cultural colonization —- I am now a native. Although it is no fun moving under these circumstances, I must say that it is a move for the better. For six months now, I have been publishing this magazine without the benefit of an automobile. A difficult enough task anywhere, but bus service shuts down in Granada Hills after 6:30 pm. Living in NoHo is going to be a big help.

This issue marks the beginning of the second year of publication of NoHo Magazine. I tell people that I started this thing with a good idea and had credit. It’s still a good idea, and I still have had credit, but now I have a year of experience behind me, and a growing publication. It is very exciting, but so is a near-death experience, so I’m not sure if I can recommend it.

The goal of this magazine is to bring thought, analysis, and criticism to the many expressions of culture that exist here in the San Fernando Valley and the NoHo Arts District. While offering commentary on culture, the magazine is also itself an expression of culture, and, to that end, I am always looking for thoughtful, articulate writers that can see the world around us and offer an interpretation that is meaningful and that enriches our lives. This is a particularly challenging task given that I am as yet unable to pay writers, which brings me to the other half of any publishing enterprise the business half.

NoHoMagazine is a free publication, which means that the bills are paid by advertisers. From this perspective, the magazine is a marketing tool, and the content is incidental as long as it brings customers to the advertisers. This is, for me, the most challenging aspect of publishing. It sucks. I have to go out there and convince people to spend their hard-earned money on advertising in NoHo Magazine. It would be easy if all I had to do was wait by the phone for businesses to call me, eager to advertise in such a fine publication as NoHo Magazine. But no, I don’t receive enough of those phone calls, so I have to go out there and get them. I must be doing something right, because a year ago I started with nothing, and now, a year later I have something. A year from now, I will have more.

I’m venting now, but it’s getting late and this thing has got to go to press. NoHo Magazine, although it may seem so at times, is not just an expression of my ego. It is the result of the work of many people people who are working without pay. Take note of their names when they appear in by-lines and credits. I would like to give special thanks to Ned Forman and Dave Epstein for their contribution to the success of this publication. Their influence is unseen, but greatly appreciated.