Sprawling LA Koreatown Vagrant Camp Has a Tennis Court, Garden, and BBQ Pit

On a quiet block of South Manhattan Place in Koreatown, Los Angeles, a once-empty lot has become the center of a storm. Sandwiched between apartment buildings—and well within sight of residents paying sky-high rents—sits a massive homeless encampment, complete with features you’d expect in a suburban backyard.

This isn’t your typical street camp. The lot, outlined by fences (some crudely breached), sits snug between 7th and 8th Street. From above, it looks less like a neglected property and more like a makeshift neighborhood, teeming with activity and unlikely amenities.

This encampment is no small affair. Inside the fences, there’s much more than a collection of tents. Residents there have built their own community.

• Tennis court: Strings demarcate a sports area.
• Vegetable garden: Rows of plants signal signs of long-term living.
• BBQ pit: Evidence of shared meals and gathering.
• Makeshift barriers mark the perimeter, with cut fences serving as entrances for those who know where to look.

“It’s a whole community,” one observer put it, amazed at what has sprung up in a matter of weeks.

For the Angelenos who live nearby, the transformation has not been cause for celebration. Many are outspoken about their anger and frustration with city officials.

• Safety concerns: Children, pets, and adults no longer feel safe in what used to be a quiet part of town.
• Cleanliness and odor: Complaints about trash, waste, and a persistent stench fill city hotlines.
• Property value fears: Anxiety runs high over rent prices and falling home worth.
• Public nuisance: Residents feel ignored as they watch leaders, in their words, “sleeping on the job.”

The encampment hasn’t just changed the view. Police calls and crime reports have picked up. Local women talk about no longer feeling safe walking their dogs. Reporters covering the scene have faced threats and intimidation.

“They saw us and made clear they didn’t want us there. We’d be at risk stepping past the fence,” a journalist recounted. It’s clear this encampment is not just a curiosity, it’s a safety risk.

The health hazards are just as troubling. Needles, human and animal waste, and garbage dot the area around the encampment.

• Foul odors hang in the air
• Debris piles up along fences and sidewalks
• Visible biohazards put neighbors—and their pets—at risk

Neighbors have to watch every step or risk exposure to needles and waste. Calls to 311 about these dangers rarely result in quick cleanup.

One homeowner revealed how residents of the encampment pried open a nearby streetlight, running cords across the street to power their makeshift settlement.

• Exposed streetlight wiring
• Surge protectors rigged inside lamp posts
• Extension cords threaded into the camp, then hastily hidden from view

Electricity theft creates a fire hazard and is a risk to anyone passing by.

Because the lot is privately owned, the city’s options are limited. The property belongs to a Delaware-based LLC, making contact and enforcement even tougher. Councilmember Katie Urslowski was blunt: City procedures are overly bureaucratic and stop real progress.

Here, the blame game begins—a classic “circular firing squad”. Each agency points fingers at another, and action gets lost in piles of paperwork.

Getting things moving takes jumping through hoops. Here’s how action (should) happen:

City Response Timeline

1. Residents submit complaints
2. Department of Building and Safety (LBS) inspects—often after weeks
3. LBS issues an order to comply to the owner
4. Councilmember works to install no trespassing signs
5. LAPD can finally intervene

It’s not a fast process, and that delay frustrates everyone affected.

Attempts to get answers from the Delaware LLC led nowhere, but Councilmember Urslowski insists the owners are now cooperating. No trespassing signs are coming, which would allow police to take action if people refuse to leave.

Still, enforcement is complicated when ownership is out of state and pockets are deep.

Sangman Lee, a frustrated neighbor, took matters straight to the media. After reaching out to ABC7, the story got the traction needed to push officials off the sidelines. As Lee put it, “I shouldn’t have to reach out to Channel 7 to get answers and movement here.” Yet for many residents, that’s the only way they see results.

Besides the obvious blight, the encampment is wearing on neighbors’ nerves. People talk about changed routines, feeling watched, or risking verbal abuse or worse for walking outside.

• Stench from trash and waste
• Needles in gutters and parks
• Anxiety about fires starting next door

“My apartment is steps away, but some days I’m afraid to even leave the building,” shared a young woman nearby.

Other LA neighborhoods have faced similar flare-ups. Earlier this year, a vacant Hollywood building packed with squatters ended up burning to the ground after repeated warnings—another tragedy city agencies couldn’t head off in time.

Slow government response has become a pattern: complaints pile up, but little changes quickly.

Getting a nuisance designation for trouble properties is a drawn-out affair in LA. The city sometimes takes years to slap the label on a property, which is what triggers easier and faster cleanups.

Meanwhile, problems get worse and neighbors pay the price.

Councilmember Urslowski is hopeful a cleanup is coming in the next few weeks. With the city, police, and the property owner finally moving in the same direction, everyone’s watching closely to see if this timeline holds.

Fixing this single encampment won’t touch the bigger problem. Los Angeles is dotted with similar situations—private and public properties filled with makeshift communities, risks, and frustrated neighbors.

A real fix will require more than just a one-off response. LA needs smarter, faster, and more accountable solutions for every neighborhood.