Sunday, Feb. 16, 2025

After Losing Everything In LA Fires, One Trainer Wonders What’s Next

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It has been two weeks since the devastating fires in Los Angeles began wreaking their path of havoc, to date destroying 12,000 homes and businesses, scorching nearly 40,000 acres, and claiming at least 27 lives. For many who lost everything, the path forward remains unclear, even as the smoke starts to abate and officials begin to allow some residents back into evacuated neighborhoods.

For nearly 30 years, Cha Cha Jago has offered riding instruction through her Jigsaw Farms, based out of both the Will Rogers State Historic Park in Pacific Palisades and the nearby Sullivan Canyon Preservation Association, both of which were in the path of the Palisades fire, the largest fire currently burning. Many of the historic facilities at Will Rogers—which included the entertainer’s former home, a large 1920s-era barn, corrals and riding arenas—were destroyed; five minutes down the road in Sullivan Canyon, some structures remain, but there is no power or plumbing, and downed debris makes access challenging.

A school group visiting the historic Will Rogers stables (above), and the site after being destroyed by the Palisades fire (below). Photos Courtesy Of Cha Cha Jago

With the help of friends, staff, and her son Henry Levinson, 29, Jago was able to evacuate all 54 horses from both facilities, as well as her cat. But the fire destroyed her home near the beach and the sites of both businesses, leaving her with more questions than answers as to what comes next.

“Every hoof and every paw is safe,” Jago said with a smile in her voice. “We evacuated to Los Angeles Equestrian Center, and to a friend’s place is Santa Ynez, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive north.

“I didn’t even have a pair of paddock boots. I had a pair of old tennis shoes on,” she continued. “We didn’t expect to be evacuating. The most amazing thing is how helpful everyone has been—Calabasas Saddlery, Fleet Of Angels, DaMoor’s Tack and Feed—there have been so many people who have helped. We have had hay donated, and a vet is driving down from up north with a couple more nebulizers and some GastroGard for the horses.”

Jago and her staff had loaded other equipment, including saddles, bridles and other essential supplies, into their utility trailer. But when the situation at Will Rogers went from bad to apocalyptic almost in a heartbeat, they focused exclusively on getting the animals to safety.

“We couldn’t save anything—our tractor, our water dog [a type of watering trailer], our three-horse trailer—it was so quick,” she said. “There was nothing we could do.”

‘Nobody Thought It Was Going To Come That Far’

Tuesday, Jan. 7, started like any other day for Jago; she was at home, doing some billing, when she began to receive wind and fire alerts on her phone. Based on ongoing drought conditions and the forecasted Santa Ana winds, the alerts came as no surprise, and by 1 p.m. she and her son, who was visiting from his home in Berlin, Germany, decided to head up to Will Rogers, situated on the edge of the Santa Monica Mountains, to assess the situation.

“They have a huge fire trail there, and we went up on that to check out the ridges,” said Jago, who noted that Will Rogers and Sullivan Canyon are the only two equestrian facilities on the west side of Los Angeles. “The wind was blowing the other way, and it all looked pretty good. We spent some time up there, just watching it.”

Even local firefighters, who were using the park’s polo field as a staging area to refuel the helicopters being used to assess and fight the fires, were not overly concerned about the safety of Will Rogers, where nearly 20 horses were stabled under Jago’s care.

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“They were very reassuring,” Jago said. “Nobody thought it was going to come that far.”

But as the afternoon wore on, the winds increased, and Jago began to get worried. Earlier that day, officials had ordered a mandatory evacuation for the surrounding Pacific Palisades neighborhood; due to gridlock, Jago had no way to get out, and most of her contacts had no way to get in. By 4 p.m., the sky had turned nearly black and the winds built to a steady 80 mph; Jago and her staff began moving horses toward the polo field, waiting for evacuation. Finally, fellow trainers from the Sullivan Canyon facility began to get through with their rigs. Two and three horses at a time, they began to move her horses from Will Rogers down to the facility in Sullivan Canyon.

The last load of horses left the park about 4:30 p.m. on a larger rig. By then, the smoke was so thick Jago opted to send that trailer to LAEC instead of Sullivan Canyon.

“We just thought the smoke was going to be hard on their breathing, so we sent them directly to LAEC,” said Jago. “Thank God we did.

“I think all of us—there were grooms and some friends up from the canyon—we were in survivor mode,” she continued. “We were just loading the horses and trying to stay mellow.”

The moment the horses were safe, Jago and her son went back to her home to collect her cat and their computers, then turned and headed back out to Sullivan Canyon. Focused on the safety of the horses, they didn’t realize it would be the last time they’d see their home standing.

“We didn’t grab anything else,” said Jago, who is currently staying on a friend’s couch. “I live right by the beach, on the flats. We didn’t even think—nothing was computing.”

As the pair made their way back to the canyon—normally a 10-minute drive—they had to dodge fallen utility wires and downed trees. Fire lined both sides of Sunset Boulevard as they passed Will Rogers, now in flames.

“Seven hundred acres, up in smoke,” Jago whispered softly. “It was sort of incomprehensible.”

By then, the fires were visible cresting the ridges surrounding the canyon. Not even one hour after completing their initial evacuation to Sullivan Canyon, Jago and her fellow equestrians knew they needed to move the horses again. 

“We realized then it was bad,” said Jago. “But again, it was really hard, because trailers couldn’t get in. Nobody could get anywhere; it was gridlock. What is really scary about the canyon is there is only one road in. We all had our horses down on the edge of the canyon, and we were just waiting for trailers to pull in.

“The horses were surprisingly calm, but I think we were really working hard just to be normal and not hysterical, to keep everything mellow,” she continued. “We have a couple of older school horses, and to tell you the truth, those were the ones we put on first. We put the weakest ones on, the ones we thought would have trouble breathing, then the more temperamental ones. We kept the totally calm and cool horses—a lot of the show horses were pretty unflappable—until the end.”

Jago and her friends worked until nearly 1 a.m. to get the remaining horses to safety. 

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“It’s really hard to wrap your head around it,” Jago said of the experience. “It’s like Noah’s Ark.”

Horse people worked together past 1 a.m. to evacuate every animal from Sullivan Canyon.

‘There Is Nothing’

Since arriving at LAEC, Jago reports there has been a lot of “sitting around on hay, trying to figure out how to get supplies.”

The equestrian center has offered her program a home for as long as it takes to figure out what is next, she said.

“In that sense, it has been amazing,” she said. “In every other sense, it has been completely surreal.”

The program Jago operated at Will Rogers was quite community focused. In addition to providing trail rides to park guests, they offered lessons, outreach programs for local schools, and therapeutic riding to nearby residents. Although their clients came from all over Los Angeles, most lived in the now decimated neighborhood of Pacific Palisades.

“These kids have lost their homes, their churches, and their schools,” Jago said. “Every single school burned down in Pacific Palisades. Everyone has been so displaced, and the kids have been coming over to LAEC because they are so scared about their ponies and the horses they ride. It has given them somewhere to go to feel safe. That has been super comforting.”

Jago said a few horses have suffered nosebleeds and are being treated for coughs after inhaling smoke and other particulates. But even managing these ailments is complicated when you have lost everything.

“It’s about trying to figure out how to get vet supplies—our pergolide, our SMZs—all of that is just gone,” said Jago. “There is nothing.”

“We couldn’t save anything—our tractor, our water dog, our three-horse trailer—it was so quick,” trainer Cha Cha Jago said of how quickly the fire ripped through Will Rogers State Historic Park in Pacific Palisades, Calif. “There was nothing we could do.”

Jago also worries about her staff—people like the Santana family, fathers and sons who have worked for nearly two decades at both facilities, doing everything from grooming to shoeing to attending horse shows, and most recently, helping the evacuation.

“I feel my responsibility right now is mainly to the horses and to the grooms and their families,” said Jago. “They are the hidden people who are in trouble. We are trying to keep them afloat.”

To that end, Jago has set up an online fundraiser to help, and her son is working to establish an official non-profit donation portal, where contributors can receive a tax write-off. He has been posting status updates on the Jigsaw Farms website, on his mother’s behalf.

“I’m a one-man band,” Jago said. “I’m in my late 50s, and I’ve lost everything I own. I’ve got to put one foot in front of the other. We’ve got to figure this out.”

Editor’s Note: For readers interested in helping equestrians affected by the California wildfires, click here for a list of organizations currently accepting donations.

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