There's one thing Los Angeles and New Orleans have in common: gumbo.

Los Angeles, like New Orleans, is a gumbo: a melting pot of unique cultures, communities and traditions.

The ‘NOLA to L.A.’ pipeline is a cultural bridge that has shaped Los Angeles culture for nearly a century. Black New Orleanians and Creole people migrated to Los Angeles beginning in the 1950s. They established an outpost in South Los Angeles that celebrated their Black American, West African and southern French traditions.

Large waves of immigrants from Mexico and Central America trickled into South Los Angeles over the decades. The mixture of cultures and traditions has created a unique mixture in South LA.

Gentrification, staggering housing prices and homelessness have decentralized Black Angelenos across Los Angeles County. The preservation of southern roots in Los Angeles is no longer tradition – it is survival.

Through Louisiana-inspired kitchens like Alta Adams, the pews of South Los Angeles churches, and the global Hollywood stage, a new generation is fighting to ensure the heartbeat of Los Angeles remains connected to the American South.

Alta Adams owner and two-time James Beard-nominated chef Keith Corbin knows all about this.

Nestled in the heart of the historically Black West Adams neighborhood lies Alta Adams. The upscale “California Soul” restaurant has become a staple in the Los Angeles community.

West Adams was once a predominantly Black, affluent community that housed the likes of Ray Charles, Hattie McDaniel, and Little Richard. Due to mass freeway construction and the Metro E Line expansion, Black residents have been displaced. The mass gentrification has reduced the once-majority West Adams Black population to 37%.

Corbin is preserving the essence of the American South by serving southern-inspired “California Soul” cuisines that bring together Creole, West African and southern dishes. Creole food originates from Louisiana and blends French, Spanish, African, Caribbean and Native American cultures to create unique dishes, including gumbo.

“California Soul” is about more than nourishment and enjoyment; it is about reclaiming and preserving Black history in the United States,” according to Corbin.

“This is America's food, but somewhere along the lines during the emancipation, what we created became less. Then it was deemed no longer worthy. I take that and I re-represent it,” Corbin said.

The power to redefine and preserve American cuisine traces back to the warm kitchen of his late grandmother Louella Henderson — “Grandmother Louella.” She was born in Alabama, while Corbin’s grandfather hails from Louisiana.

Corbin doesn’t know for sure why Grandmother Louella migrated from the South to Los Angeles. “My grandmother came over when she was 10 years old during the Great Migration in the 1940s,” Corbin said.

The Great Migration was a mass exodus of Black families from the South to northern and western U.S. cities. The migration was fueled by both World Wars, which generated a great deal of industrial jobs for Black people looking for work in places free of the constraints of rampant racism in the South.

The first Great Migration from 1910 to 1940, had seen thousands of Black families move from the South to Northern cities like Detroit, Chicago and New York City.

Grandmother Louella's journey aligns with the second Great Migration, when tens of thousands of Black American families moved from the rural South to California from 1940 to 1970.

“You never know what people are running from and the horrors. My grandmother was a part of the silent generation, so she didn't say much,” he said.

Escaping the Past

Renowned columnist and community advocate Erin Aubry Kaplan grew up learning about such horrors.

Kaplan's late father Larry Aubry, was 9 years old when his family migrated from New Orleans to Los Angeles during World War II.

The Aubrys migrated west in search of a better life. As a first-generation Black Angeleno, Kaplan heard stories about the South, including the racist laws collectively known as Jim Crow. “My family was escaping…they wanted more freedom,” Kaplan said.

Kaplan said her loved ones accepted they would never fully escape racism.

“My family knew California wasn't completely different from the South. Like Malcolm X said, every state has some racism. You're never going to escape it — it's just a matter of degree,” Kaplan said. “I think many felt like California had the least amount of restrictions.”

In the 1940s, Jefferson High was the designated school for Black students in South Central Los Angeles. Kaplan’s father was among the first Black students to attend what was then all-white Fremont High in South Central after the Supreme Court overturned racial housing covenants in 1948.

On the first day of school, Aubry and his peers were met by a mob of angry white students — carrying pitchforks and torches.

Aubry and his peers integrated Fremont High years before the civil rights movement scored its largest legal victories, like the landmark Brown v. Board of Education (1954) decision, which overturned school segregation. Their actions also predated the historic Little Rock Nine of 1957 when the nation’s armed forces were used to integrate Little Rock Central High.

“My grandmother said this was progress and a good thing because it was integration,” Kaplan said. “My father said it was a terrifying experience and very much like the South.”

As for the young Aubry, Kaplan noted, “My father was terrified to go to school.”

Los Angeles-based performing artist Mark Broyard's family experienced similar horrors in New Orleans, which led them to migrate to California in the 1950s. Broyard's family resided in the Gentilly Neighborhood, where his mother was a school teacher and his father owned a lucrative construction business.

Broyard's older brother was set to attend his parish's elementary school St. Raphael Catholic School. The elder Broyard would become the first Black student to integrate the school in the 1950s. Broyard's family experienced uproar from white counterparts and fled to California in search of equal opportunity.

“We grew up in Gentilly neighborhood and my older brother was going to be the first Negro child to integrate St. Raphael Catholic School,” Broyard said. “The photo of Ruby Bridges being escorted by the National Guard was going to be my brother's initiation into first grade. My mother didn't want that, so my parents left New Orleans.”

Broyard's parents visited California during their honeymoon and were amazed at the freedoms they experienced in 1952. They were not bound to Jim Crow Laws and the segregation that existed in New Orleans.

“My parents grew up during the Great Depression, where they rode on the back of buses in New Orleans and could only visit Lake Ponchartrain during certain hours on Sundays,” Broyard said. “In California, they could walk into any restaurant they wanted to. They were shocked that they could go to the beach anytime they wanted.”

The Broyards settled in Leimert Park, a predominantly Black neighborhood, during the second Great Migration.

“There was a mass exodus of New Orleans people who came to Los Angeles and took their culture with them,” Broyard said. “They created barber shops, Big Loaf Bakery and Harold and Belle's. It was amazing to witness.”

The Broyards joined thousands of New Orleans migrants who established flourishing businesses and a strong community in Los Angeles.

While Black families had more freedom, racism persisted in Los Angeles after integration.

Los Angeles journalist and essayist Lynell George said her family moved from Louisiana to Los Angeles during the Great Migration in search of better economic opportunities. The racial covenants in Los Angeles caused Louisiana migrants to band together and form “enclaves” that created close bonds.

“When my parents came out here, it felt as if there was more cohesiveness and closeness. Some of this had to do with restrictive covenants in place across the region, which limited where people of color could settle,” George said. “You could see and feel that these enclaves represented something of home.""

Kaplan said that while Jim Crow laws did not exist in Los Angeles, the city did not live up to its promise of freedom and better economic opportunity for Black Angelenos.

“It differed from the South because there were no Jim Crow Laws, but the city has repeatedly failed to honor the promise it held for the descendants of the Great Migration,” Kaplan said.

“Given what Los Angeles could offer and what it should be — the city has failed terribly,” Kaplan said. “California has been at the forefront of some social change, but Los Angeles is still very segregated.”

Kaplan said that Los Angeles has faced a major housing crisis that disproportionately impacts Black people, who made up 34% of Los Angeles’ overall homeless population in 2024, according to the Neighborhood Housing Services of Los Angeles County.

“That speaks to how harsh the economy has become and how the city is starting to accrue opportunities we can't access as a group,” Kaplan said.

Subsequent generations of Black Angelenos have endured racism in various forms, including voter disparities, economic instability and some effects of gentrification, George said.

“The rising costs, rents/property skyrocketing and the overall effects of gentrification have dispersed people in waves over the last few decades," George said. "This has been a steady process of change.

This has at times aggravated the social and racial segregation of Black communities in Los Angeles. Large numbers of Latino immigrants settled in historically Black communities, which coincided with the departure of many Black people from the city in recent decades.

The result is that the Black population in Los Angelenos has become far less. Black Angelenos are moving to other California metro cities because of gentrification and rising housing prices in Los Angeles.

By 2020, nearly 25% of Black California residents live outside of the state’s main urban centers of Los Angeles, San Jose, Oakland and San Diego, according to UCLA's State of Black California Report.

“Los Angeles [County] is full of small cities like Inglewood, and it's the perfect place for people to segregate not just racially — but socially. Now, we have gentrification and a lot of the big cities in L.A. County don't have a large Black population,” Kaplan said.

“People are moving out because it's getting too expensive. They're moving to cheaper places — including back to the South.”

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler with Mardi Gras in L.A.

Broyard said the once tight-knit New Orleans community is dwindling as older generations pass away. Traditions are fading as younger generations fail to keep them alive.

“The tight-knit community is all gone now. The only thing that's around is Harold and Belle's. The older generation – the ones who moved to Los Angeles and set all of this up – has passed away. Their children didn't keep many of those traditions going,” Broyard said.

As traditions fade away, Black Angelenos are fighting to maintain what's left of the community through the Catholic church, family gatherings and Mardi Gras.

The sounds of Mardi Gras carried through St. Bernadette Church as Los Angeles residents packed the space. A live band played Zydeco, jazz and blues amid the aromas of fried catfish, chicken and collard greens. Underneath the music, the room was anchored by the sounds of laughter and the dancers' movement.

Mother and daughter, Cecilia and Christina Hamilton, explained that they are longtime members of St. Bernadette Church and that their Catholic church has served as their tether between Los Angeles and Louisiana.

Black Angelenos are fighting to preserve southern history and community in Los Angeles. (Video: Emily Geigh Nichols)

The elder Hamilton said her and her husband's family migrated from Oklahoma, Texas and Louisiana. The Los Angeles native has tapped into religion and celebration to remain connected to her southern roots.

"When [our families] came to Los Angeles, they kept the traditions. As my husband and I raised our children in the parish, we have used Catholicism, culture and tradition to keep it alive,” Hamilton said. “It's important to keep the food, traditions, religion and meaning going for them and their children.”

The younger Hamilton noted that music and food have long served a connective purpose for Black communities to maintain connection amid the extreme displacement created by the slave trade that served the United States, and then the South, into the latter half of the 19th century.

“Coming from the slave trade, music and food — and God — have kept us together,” she said. “It's another expression of love when we sing and feed each other. It's been one of the ways we've always been able to express emotion and foster connection,” the younger Hamilton said.

For Kaplan's family, their Louisiana heritage endured through faith and Sunday family gatherings in Los Angeles.

“My family was Catholic, and there were Black Catholic churches. Members consisted of parishioners and people from New Orleans. They had the Feast of St. Joseph Festival and Mardi Gras,” Kaplan said. “I loved Sunday visits where we would [visit the homes of] my grandmother, Aunt Mabel and uncle.”

Louisiana migrants’ search for connection gave rise to a local community staple: the Louisiana-to-Los Angeles-inspired “LALA” Festival.

Kaplan said her uncle, activist Leon Aubry, created the LALA Festival to unite Louisianians in Los Angeles. The festival started as barbershop-talk in Aubry's beloved establishment, “Leon Aubry's Barbershop.” It evolved into a beloved community tradition dedicated to celebrating Louisianians and southern traditions in Los Angeles.

The festival took place in Leimert Park – one of the last predominantly Black American areas in Los Angeles. The neighborhhood was a central destination for Louisiana migrants who moved to Los Angeles during World War II, according to the LALA Organizing Committee website.

“It was a big festival at Leimert Park where people from Louisiana would eat food and fellowship,” Kaplan said. “We were like an immigrant group – but from Louisiana. It worked well until people started moving away from Los Angeles.

Leimert Park was a vital destination for Black Louisianians seeking community during the Great Migration. It has fostered significant traditions, such as the LALA Festival, and is home to historic cultural centers, including the Leimert Park Vision and Performance Art Theatre. The significance of Leimert Park is such that Los Angeles residents are fighting to preserve its historic spaces and community traditions.

For longtime Los Angeles resident Tina Knowles, this means reinvesting in Leimert Park, which became a prominent destination for Black families after the Supreme Court overturned racial covenants in 1948.

The Black families that moved into Leimert Park prospered, firmly establishing themselves in the middle class in the 1950s. A significantly higher proportion of Black men in Leimert Park were professionals and managers than in other black neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Their wives often worked steadily as professional and clerical workers. The area’s often-charming homes are a testament to what people built over the decades.

Los Angeles resident Tina Knowles discusses remaining connected to Louisiana roots. (Video by Emily Geigh Nichols)

Many Black residents bemoan the loss of community due to the out-migration of Black Angelenos and Leimert Park has seen a decrease in its Black population. Leimert Park remains the largest Black neighborhood in Los Angeles and is considered the center of the city's African American arts scene.

The historic Leimert Park Vision and Performing Arts Theatre is undergoing $40 million renovations. The revitalization of the theatre will serve an anchor for making Leimert Park an artistic hub again. WACO Theater Center founder Tina Knowles is partnering with the Los Angeles City Council Department of Cultural Affairs to revitalize the performing arts theatre.

At the Los Angeles Times Book Festival in April, Los Angeles Times Assistant Managing Editor Angel Jennings and Knowles discussed her philanthropic efforts to revitalize historic Black art spaces in Leimert Park and surrounding areas.

“You're helping revitalize the area in Leimert Park and investing in the Vision Theater just a stone's throw away. Did you ever imagine that?” Jennings asked.

“Never in a million years,” Knowles said.

Acclaimed restaurant Harold and Belle's Restaurant is also working to preserve the Black community in Los Angeles.

Harold and Belle's was founded by Harold and Mary Legaux in 1969. The restaurant is run by Ryan and his wife Jessica Legaux, Harold's grandson and granddaughter-in-law.

The restaurant was created during the second migration to create a safe space for Louisiana migrants to foster community. Harold and Belle's General Manager Jaliyah Smith said the restaurant's authentic New Orleans-style and Creole food is a staple for generations of Black Angelenos.

“The restaurant has been in the Legaux family for over three generations. It's always been in the community and the food has maintained its integrity,” Smith said. “We have a lot of regulars who have been coming since the beginning and they bring their grandkids. It's the passing of the torch when they come here.”

Harold and Belle's maintain their tether to Louisiana through Mardi Gras celebrations. It is a popular tradition that brings out Black Angelenos and the greater Los Angeles community to celebrate their Louisiana heritage.

8x Grammy Winner Jon Batiste discusses New Orleans' cultural influence at 2026 USC PopConference. (Photo courtesy: Openverse)

“We have second line coming through the restaurant multiple times and we have a community celebration annually. It's something people look forward to and it brings everyone together,” Smith said.

Gentrification has changed the Los Angeles community, but Harold and Belle's will remain a prominent destination for Los Angelenos, Smith said. Harold and Belle's legacy was honored by their inclusion in the New Orleans Corridor.

The New Orleans Corridor honors the historic migration and legacy of Creole and African American communities who established a new home in Los Angeles during a challenging period in the South. The corridor stretches from Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church to Harold and Belle's Restaurant.

Smith said being a part of the New Orleans Corridor is a testament to the restaurant's positive impact on the Black community in Los Angeles.

“In the last 10 years, the community has changed so much because of gentrification. We've always been here and will remain,” Smith said. “They created the New Orleans Corridor and I think that's because of us. They changed this area's name because of how much of a staple our restaurant is.”

Transposing the Soul of the City

For nearly seven years, Corbin's “California Soul” restaurant has been in business. These days, he is updating his vision for Alta Adams, which is temporarily closed and undergoing restoration. His new vision involves serving cuisines that reflect the melting pot of cultures in Los Angeles.

“I'm using flavors and ingredients provided by the world and marrying cultures together. Not in a sense of fusion – but transposition,” Corbin said. “We're cooking with flavors that represent the cultural collision points of Africa, Asia and Mexico. These flavors from across the world represent our community in Los Angeles.”

In other words, he’s going global with the spirit of New Orleans’ gumbo.

The ingredients of Los Angeles are changing as some Black Angelenos move away, and other people from around the country and the world move in, so the city’s gumbo continues to get more flavorful.

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