Inspired by a trip to Guatemala, Rosemary Kaul moved to a pocket of Los Angeles where Central Americans found refuge from the civil unrest and violence that ravaged their home countries.
Kaul rented a studio on 12th Street in Pico-Union where she’d live for nearly two years. A single bed and a leafy schefflera — the only thing passing for green space in a concrete-dense neighborhood — took up most of her living space.
Struck by the poverty in the area, the Los Angeles Times photojournalist wanted to capture how hard it could be to begin a new life. She wondered if life in L.A. was truly better for them, but later realized the story was the people themselves.
“They have a spirit that really comes through in their faces,” she told KCET in 1991.
Sensing her genuine sincerity, Pico-Union accepted her as one of their own. Neighborhood children kept an eye out for her company vehicle. Locals chatted with her as they washed clothes in the laundromat. Other tenants in her building invited her over for dinner, offering their best home-cooked meal.
Peers and loyal readers lauded her Pico-Union photo essay. “Having grown up in this area, it is refreshing to see a sincere humanistic portrayal of this community by The Times,” Arturo Vargas, then-director of outreach and policy for the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund in Los Angeles, wrote in 1991.
In an era when institutions, including The Times, overlooked marginalized communities, Kaul used her lens to chronicle their lives and help capture their humanity in a manner others could understand. She was part of a cadre of journalists who shifted their approach to the job, questioning the significance of what an event said about greater Los Angeles. Throughout her career, Kaul’s hard-charging and vibrant personality helped inspire the next budding photojournalists in the industry.
Kaul led the charge in her approach to photojournalism, showing empathy and care for sources, said Iris Schneider, a former L.A. Times photographer and longtime friend
She “didn’t really want to just go in and out in some sort of voyeuristic way,” Schneider said. “But she really wanted to know what it was like on a gut level to live there and experience that neighborhood and feel what the people were feeling in terms of how hard it was to start over and start a new life.”
Always a free spirit, Kaul died of health issues on March 31, said her daughter, Marjo Garrison. She was 80.
Kaul grew up in a tiny town in southern Indiana, but had an itch to see the world. Riding her pinto horse, Beauty, bareback provided her a temporary sense of escape. She was the first in her family to go to college despite pushback from her parents.
Freelancing for Chicago’s Star Publications, a small group of newspapers, was Kaul’s first big break. She commuted on a crowded expressway from her home in Arlington Heights to Chicago Heights until she was hired full-time.
John Murphy, Kaul’s mentor who worked as darkroom process manager, was in awe of her passion and commitment to her job all while raising three children as a single mother.
“If you have to ask Rosemary how she did it, you’ll never do it,” he said. “Because you have to be born with it, struck with it, bitten by a muse. She was just really interested in everything about photojournalism and she could not get enough.”
By 1982, the L.A. Times poached Kaul.
There, she flourished. Kaul was among the first photographers in the streets when the Rodney King verdict was announced. She captured images showing the rage of those congregated near the Los Angeles Police Department headquarters in Downtown L.A. Her colleague Mel Melcon helped her return to the office just in time for him to get photos of the crowd smashing the windows of The Times’ first-floor offices.