Reporter’s Notebook: An unseen side of Long Beach — the equestrian community

When I arrived at the Wrigley neighborhood on Sunday morning, April 26, I was quickly confused. I stepped out of my car thinking, “Where are the horses? Where are the stables?” There was a dirt path straight ahead, however, emerging from various houses. I ventured forward.

With the sun beaming on my face, I slowly peered to my right and saw it: multiple stables off in the distance. There, riders moved around the fenced-in enclosures while several of their horses waited at the gates, anxious to be let out. 

As I walked down the narrow path, I spotted horses galore. The black, white and beige animals each had their quirks; one had its tongue lazily sticking out, another boasted two braids and one of them even showed off its teeth to me when it saw my camera. Some were tied on leashes to nearby posts, while others ran around the wooden fences. 

Somewhere nearby, I heard the sound of a television and music in the background as the riders cleaned and brushed their horses, adding to the aroma of dusk and earthiness. The horse keepers, with old-school vermillion hats, laughed often as they sat in the shade and enjoyed their typical Sunday morning. One of the equestrians, Antonio Rivera, relaxed in the shade as he slowly drank his Modelo.

I had never seen this side of Long Beach before — the rural side. 

Soon, neighbors and locals came up to the neighborhood to visit the horses. The equestrians allowed them to pet the horses, feed them and even hop on the saddle. 

After hours of prepping the horses, the group headed to West Anaheim Street to show them off for an evening show. The small street corner held multiple businesses such as Popeye Donuts and Taqueria Los Primos, with customers trickling out to see the horseback riders slowly arriving. 

Long Beach families and couples watched as the charros rode in, waving and smiling toward the crowd as the horses skillfully danced in the small, rectangular parking lot. 

Banda music blasted as each rider circled the small area, singing along to the lyrics. 

Families had a chance to pet the horses and I watched as their faces lit up with excitement, laughter and shock. Meanwhile, couples were dancing together on the surrounding sidewalk. 

When I saw only a couple of people show up at 6 p.m., I thought it was going to be a small audience watching the show. However, as the night went along, people of all ages filled the space, singing, dancing and eating. 

As the last rays of sunlight shined on us that Sunday evening, it dawned on me. This is more than just a group of charros; it’s a community of people who bring Long Beach together with the mix of freedom and thrill of horseback riding. 

Watching the riders interact with people in between songs with a fistbump and a smirk, the audience’s shocked faces and laughter — there was happiness and pride in the air. It was palpable and clear, just as apparent as the blaring music or the sizzling sounds of food hitting the grills.