How do you deal with lies and brutality? Maybe you blow a whistle


Frank Clem, a pickleball friend of mine, recently spread the word that he was collecting whistles to hand out to the front lines of anti-ICE protests in downtown Los Angeles, Highland Park, Pasadena, and elsewhere.

I was out of the country at the time, but shortly after returning, I thought of Clem when Minneapolis nurse Alex Pretti was shot and killed by ICE agents at a protest in Minnesota. It was not long before the Trump administration Senior officials took turns blaming the victim, lie about the circumstances and call Pretti a murderer.

Pretti's distraught parents responded with this:

“The disgusting lies the administration tells about our son are reprehensible and disgusting.”

And yet it is hardly surprising, given the state of misinformation and the flagrant corruption of legal and moral codes of conduct under Trump, who the other day said again that the 2020 election was stolen.

How can you confront a president who hypocritically pardons drug lords and other mobs, including the barbarians who beat police officers and ransacked the Capitol, even as he invades cities to terrorize and kidnap workers?

Maybe blow a whistle, for starters.

I know, it's a small gesture. But Clem and others are choosing sides, standing up for their communities and refusing to remain silent as it becomes clear that ICE's agenda has less to do with law and order and more to do with the politics of scapegoating.

I found myself a story on Fox11 about a broader whistle brigade in Los Angeles. The musician Héctor Flores, from The Coffee MakersHe said he had been handing out free whistles in coffee shops because “we have to protect each other,” and a whistle can sound the alarm that ICE agents are on the prowl.

If Trump were honest about arresting violent criminals, we wouldn't need this kind of resistance. But arrests of immigrants without criminal records are increasing, and most of them are here to work and support their families. And American employers have embraced and relied on them as essential contributors to the economy.

When I couldn't immediately reach Flores, I called the owner of Milk Coffeethe Highland Park coffee shop where he had handed out whistles. Matt Schodorf told me he had run out of whistles and I thought of Clem, who agreed to meet me at Café de Leche with a special delivery.

Clem, an actor, is someone you want on your pickleball team because he comes to play and covers a lot of ground. You may have seen it in stage productions, on television shows, or in movies, and you couldn't No I have seen him as emu farmer in a Liberty Mutual commercial.

Clem walked past a sign in a window that said “I like my coffee without ICE” and took a seat at Café de Leche. He was wearing a Los Angeles baseball cap and carrying a shopping bag containing hundreds of whistles.

In the window of Café de Leche in Highland Park is a sign that says “I like my coffee without ICE.” Cafe owners Matt and Anya Schodorf have been giving away whistles to customers to use at ICE sightings and at protests.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Black whistles. Red whistles. Whistles with ropes and whistles with hooks to attach to keychains.

Enough for a symphony.

“It costs $18 or $20 for about a hundred whistles,” Clem said, showing a sandwich-sized bag with 100 multicolored whistles shaped like small pencils.

Clem has been buying them in bulk online, accepting whistles donated by friends and making his own with a 3D printer. He said he had already given away more than 1,500 in recent weeks at rallies and demonstrations.

People smile, Clem said, “when they see the possibilities,” when they join the chorus and the cause, and instead of quietly retreating, they make themselves heard. Harsh opposition to ICE atrocities in Minneapolis has led to the withdrawal of hundreds of agents, so perhaps a turn is underway.

“We're spending $20 on coffee, right?” Clem said. “But here's $20 you can spend on something and really feel like you're getting some kind of return for it… Throw me 100 whistles and we'll put them in the hands of people who could make a difference.”

Schodorf joined us with a clean whistle rack marked “Free Ice Alarms” and said he would be happy to fill the rack with Clem’s contributions. Before long, they loaded it with 100 whistles and placed it on the main counter.

When I asked Schodorf about joining the whistle brigade, he mentioned his wife, Café de Leche co-owner Anya Schodorf.

“She grew up here, but she was born in Nicaragua,” he said, and it's hard not to get involved when “they're just profiling people off the streets. I mean, no one feels safe… and they're profiling people of color, right? My wife would identify like that, and she's afraid to leave the house.”

Schodorf said they have been struggling to keep the business running after they lost their Café de Leche restaurant in the fire that devastated Altadena a year ago. A photo of them in the ruins of their other store hung on the wall, along with other photos of the destruction in Altadena.

“I don't know what to do,” Schodorf said of ICE tactics in Highland Park and beyond, “but I feel like we want to lift up people's voices.”

His wife entered the store and greeted friends and customers before joining us. She has been an American citizen for decades, and yet she feels that the color of her skin makes her a suspect.

Anya and Matt Schodorf, owners of Café de Leche in Highland Park, talk about their fears about ICE in the community.

Anya and Matt Schodorf, owners of Café de Leche in Highland Park, talk about their fears about ICE in the community.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

“You can shout at the top of your lungs that you are a citizen and they don't care,” Anya said. “Honestly, I can't think clearly… and I find it very difficult to concentrate.”

Anya said she walks and sometimes runs on Arroyo's trails, but has started taking extra precautions, like calling her husband and leaving the line open. He recently went to a park in Pasadena and became worried after entering the bathroom.

“I heard… a commotion outside and I got nervous,” Anya said. “And then I went out and I saw the ICE people harassing the workers, like city workers. They're city landscapers, and I panicked. I went back to the bathroom and I was like, what do I do? And why should I panic? I'm a citizen.”

Her children are as worried about her as she is.

“It's my son who really worries me,” Anya said. “He says, 'Make sure you have your passport.' Yeah, my kids. They're really worried. And my son says, please be careful. … It's that extra stress that they don't need, that they have to worry about me.”

The Schodorfs said ICE agents recently arrested a neighborhood resident: a guy selling tamales.

“They're just eliminating people, left and right,” Matt said.

“He's like 72 years old,” Anya said.

The first whistles launched by Héctor Flores did not take long to disappear.

“It was just a matter of hours,” Matt said. “I think it's two-sided. There are people who think they might need it just for themselves, but there are people who feel like they might need it for other people… It's been tremendously popular.”

“We are a good country,” Anya said. “But we're falling into the hands of people who are cruel and don't really care about anyone but themselves, and they're getting rich.”

Clem said at rallies he makes sure to offer whistles to vendors.

“People selling hot dogs and churros,” he said. “They ask how many they can take for their family and friends, right? I want them to take as many as they can. I have 1,500 of these things on my dining room table.”

Clem said he was never actually a protester, but that “anyone with eyes can see” the alarming level of corruption coming out of the White House.

“My dad fought in the Battle of the Bulge, right?” Clem said. “My father fought against the Nazis and fascists in World War II, and he always warned me growing up that this could happen here. So now, the least I can do is hand out whistles.”

When Clem's whistles were displayed on the counter, one of the first customers was Hana McElroy. He ordered a coffee and took a whistle.

“I'm a nanny, I pick up a couple of kids from their preschool, and I know and love a lot of kids whose parents are in some pretty tough situations,” said McElroy, who is Irish American. “It's been a scary time to be an Angeleno.”

Hana McElroy, right, grabs a free whistle while ordering a cup of coffee from Soleil Hernando at Café de Leche.

Hana McElroy, right, grabs a free whistle while ordering a cup of coffee from Soleil Hernando at Café de Leche.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

McElroy said she knows some of the Latina babysitters who take their caregivers to the small park in front of Café de Leche, and she worries about them, too.

McElroy showed me a whistle on his keychain but said it was broken. Soleil Hernando, a barista, told him after taking one of Clem's whistles that they were free and that he should take as many as he wanted.

McElroy grabbed another.

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