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WASHINGTON — President Clinton famously said he could feel voters’ pain over the economy. But these days, when it comes to questions about high prices, President Trump insists that the pain is his.

“They hit me with affordability, and that’s the first time I ever heard the word used,” he complained in Nebraska earlier this month.

The White House leaves Vice President JD Vance to use a softer touch. Last month in Texas, he admitted “there are people out there who are frustrated by the pace of progress.” And during a CBS News town hall on Saturday, Vance said, “I recognize that gas prices are too high right now” and “we’re working on it.”

Depending on which Republican is speaking, Americans are getting a different perspective on how bad things are with the economy. Trump says “the golden age of America is upon us.” Vance walks a tightrope to show that he knows voters are feeling an economic pinch while still selling them on Trump’s agenda.

The disconnect comes as Americans’ confidence in the economy sank to the lowest level in more than a decade this month, the average long-term U.S. mortgage rate jumped this month to its highest level in nearly three years and the unemployment rate ticked up last month.

Recent economic data released this month shows that high gasoline prices are intensifying inflation and more expensive oil and gas have begun to push prices up in other parts of the economy.

While most of Trump’s supporters don’t hold him at fault, some acknowledge that the president’s penchant for salesmanship may not hit the mark.

“I think he talks it up,” said Conda Little, a 76-year-old retiree who went to see Trump in Dalton, Ga., on Friday. “I think Vance is more real.”

Little takes the president at his word that he will achieve a victory over Iran in a way that benefits U.S. consumers back home. But she said it’s impossible to deny the fallout from the conflict.

“Everybody’s real upset about the gas” and “groceries are out of sight,” she said. “It’s hard. It’s really hard,” she said, adding that, “I think that people need to hear the truth.”

‘We need to do more’

Trump is loath to acknowledge concerns. He told reporters earlier this month that he gives himself “an A+ on the government, on economics, on everything.” He has dismissed concerns about high costs, arguing that concerns about affordability are a “hoax.”

“We’re in the golden age of America. So our nation is doing better now than ever before,” he told a crowd in Kentucky on Saturday while campaigning for Republican candidates.

Trump has occasionally acknowledged that gas prices are high, but has called it “a small price to pay” for keeping the country and the world safe with the Iran war.

Trump’s discordant message with one of the top concerns voters are voicing ahead of the midterm elections has seemed heightened by his fixation on beautifying Washington and building a large ballroom at the White House.

During a visit this month to an economically struggling corner of Arizona, he regaled the crowd with the story about how he ended up with a luxury jet gifted by Qatar to use as Air Force One.

Vance, as he crisscrosses the country, is quick to say that the administration has more work to do.

To cast blame, the vice president often says that his administration’s Democratic predecessors put the country in such a deep hole that they need more time to climb out.

To show empathy, he often references his own experience growing up in a working-class family in a Rust Belt town. That’s far different from Trump, who comes from a wealthy family, is a billionaire and even joked during his speeches on Friday and Saturday that if people have lunch at his Mar-a-Lago club, “for $5,000, you’ll get one hamburger and a small dessert.”

Vance, during a CBS News town hall that aired on Saturday, said: “I grew up in a working-class family. When gas prices were high, I know that it made my grandmother suffer, and I’m sure that you’re struggling with it in a variety of ways.”

When asked by the moderator about the mixed message he and Trump are giving on the economy, Vance said Trump was speaking about new investments coming into the country, but said the changes take time.

“We need to do more, and we can certainly do better,” he acknowledged.

Many Trump supporters trust his pitch

Some voters said Trump’s rosy view on the economy turns them away, like Santiago Rodriguez, a 19-year-old Texas college student who will be voting for the first time this year.

Rodriguez, who attended a campaign rally last week for Democratic Senate candidate James Talarico, said he would consider voting for a Republican but not while Trump is in charge because he doesn’t grasp the high cost of living for Americans.

“I think he’s out of touch, I think he’s never seen what a true day as a Texan or anybody in general who is in the working class,” Rodriguez said.

Trump’s most loyal supporters aren’t interested in blaming high prices on anything the president has done.

Cindy Massengill, a 67-year-old who came to see Trump in Dalton, Ga., said she felt he’s doing the best he can.

“I’m positive that he’s got done more than any other president after the mess we were left with Obama and Biden,” she said.

Mary Bunker, a 67-year-old Republican who attended Trump’s Monday rally near Wichita, Kan., said she works multiple jobs, including as a waitress and DoorDash driver.

She feels the pressure of high gas prices, but she likes the tax breaks that Trump signed into law last year and she doesn’t fault the way he speaks about economic concerns.

“I think he’s a very good businessman,” Bunker said. “He’s been in business a long time, so I think he knows what he’s talking about.”

Price writes for the Associated Press. AP writers Bill Barrow in Dalton, Ga., Jesse Bedayn in San Marcos, Texas, and Nicholas Ingram in Park City, Kan., contributed to this report.

Bitupan Deka was out shopping for a “gamusa” (traditional scarf) with his mother in India’s northeastern state of Meghalaya when he noticed something unusual.

“Every shop selling the scarf had the same handful of patterns repeated over and over,” he told Al Jazeera over the telephone from Shillong, the capital of Meghalaya.

“When I asked around, I found that weavers in Sualkuchi [district in neighbouring Assam state] are paid a one-time fee of roughly 2,000 rupees [$21] for each design they develop, instead of royalties. Cutting down the number of designs they produce was a cost-saving practice followed by the manufacturers.”

This discovery prompted Deka, an assistant professor of computer technology at Shillong’s MIT University, to create a system that can produce infinite new designs for such fabrics.

“My work isn’t meant to replace the traditional designers. I hope, instead, that it will become a tool in their hands to create new and modern motifs more easily, so the consumers can have variety,” Deka said.

Once the patent, which is being applied for under the research and development department of his university, comes through, Deka plans to monetise the system by making it a commercial designing service that the textile industry can avail.

In India’s varied textile traditions, patterns and motifs carry the memory of a place and the mythology of its people – sometimes even the history of migrations.

The designs are imagined by weavers from things that exist around them, and then painted with locally available colours, mostly using carved clay and wooden frames. These weavers do not simply reproduce a pattern; they inherit it. Their hands hesitate where their grandmother’s did, and they know why a particular flower must face left.

A computer has no such inheritance or hesitation. It learns by analysing pictures and repeating them in endless variations. And yet, as Deka’s system shows, the computer can now draw and weave the same flower.

The Rekh Sanganeri Dataset is a similar system developed for hand-block printed Sanganeri textiles from the western Indian state of Rajasthan. It includes high-resolution images of printed patterns, annotated down to ink bleed and slight misalignment – the imperfections that are the hallmark of the handmade work.

Its developer, Reddy Sai Nivas C, says it should be used as a resource for research and art, not as a substitute for artisans.

But the disclaimer is the paradox: Tools built to preserve a craft are making its visual language easier to digitally reproduce without involving the craftsperson.

Dinesh Chhipa comes from one of the oldest Chhipa families, an artisan and merchant caste renowned for dyeing and block printing. He is a Bagru designer – a block printing technique from Bagru town in the western state of Rajasthan – and a textile businessman.

“Traditional craft is slow to produce. Even if someone offered us a fortune, we wouldn’t be able to produce these pieces in mass numbers, so I don’t fault those using digital technology and AI to fill the gap,” he told Al Jazeera.

“But don’t borrow craft and regional names like Bagru and Jaipuri [named after the capital city of Rajasthan]. These designs and motifs were born out of a culture and necessities of the communities they come from.”

Who owns culture when it turns into plain data?

India has been digitising its textile memory for years – from the Botanical Survey of India’s historical collections to the Bharatiya Vastra Shilpa Kosh, a national portal built by the state-run National Institute of Fashion Technology and the Centre for Development of Advanced Computing (C-DAC).

Without documentation, the fragile traditions and knowledge could disappear. But digitisation also allows the same archive to be used by an AI system seeking to reproduce these crafts at scale.

At the India AI Impact Summit in New Delhi in February this year, Indian software company Tata Consultancy Services (TCS) showcased Bridgital Loom, an AI system that converts textile designs into loom-ready instructions. LED lights on the loom guide a weaver through the thread sequences of intricate Banarasi and Kanchipuram patterns – named after the cities where these iconic arts grew.

TCS says the technology helps weavers execute complex designs faster and with fewer errors, and is meant to be a bridge between the artisans and technology. A pilot project that uses the loom is already under way at Kanchipuram, a town in southern Tamil Nadu state.

In an interview with the online platform Digit at the New Delhi summit, the head of AI strategy at Bridgital Loom, Muthulakshmi Nellaiappan, pointed out that a new weaver takes more than 15 years to master the art.

“With the technologies we have in hand … the younger weaver who has just entered the skill can become a master much sooner,” she said.

Technology flattens the master-apprentice hierarchy of traditional knowledge systems. The weaver no longer has to conceptualise or remember patterns, colours and codes; he blindly follows the machine’s instructions, handing creativity and memory to AI.

Nellaiappan said that since a large percentage of India’s looms are non-electronic, TCS has ensured its system works with handlooms as well and that it was essential for scaling up the technology.

But digital looms also raise another question: Who owns culture when it turns into plain data?

For generations, India’s textile knowledge sat outside intellectual property systems. It lived in community memory, passed from master to apprentice with no certificate of ownership. Kanchipuram, Mekhela-Sador, Sanganeri and Banarasi are names for places that these textiles helped shape, not merely emerged from.

Now, this knowledge is entering generative models that owe nothing to these traditions.

For designers and manufacturers, the possibilities are seductive: Motifs combined at will, colours changed with a command, and thousands of designs generated instantly. The machine offers abundance.

The artisan, on the other hand, has always lived with scarcity: Of money, bargaining power, or recognition.

Ananthalakshmi Vadivel, a third-generation weaver and owner of Vadivel Silk Looms in Kanchipuram, says their venture is already competing in the market with cheaper Kanchipuram sarees produced on electronic looms.

“Perhaps, with AI, these sellers can create trending designs faster and cheaper to attract mass consumers. But these imitations can never replace the original,” she told Al Jazeera.

“There will always be a market for authentic Kanchipuram and handcrafted textiles, no matter how much technology makes the imitation cheaper. True Kanchipuram weave, colour, and designs can only be created by hand, and discerning buyers know this.”

Then again, the question is no longer whether AI can recreate a textile. It sure can. The question is: Who gets paid when it does?

Legal gaps

In December 2025, the federal government’s Department for Promotion of Industry and Internal Trade floated a statutory “blanket licence” – a system where AI developers could train models on lawfully obtained copyrighted material without seeking permission from each rights holder. Once commercialised, those systems would owe royalties to copyright owners at rates set by the government.

But intellectual property (IP) laws assume a traceable work with a traceable author. A motif, on the other hand, is communal property, its technique passed down through generations with no single originator.

In such cases, who is entitled to royalty and copyright? The artisan who first created the design? The photographer who documented it? The researcher who assembled the dataset? The developer who built the tool? India’s laws offer no clear answers. The artisan whose name never appeared on a label may once again be missing from the paperwork.

Meanwhile, the government is planning a dedicated AI-handloom research department under the Centre of Excellence for Handloom Technology at the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) in the capital, New Delhi. Inaugurated in August, the $1.4m facility aims to modernise India’s handloom sector by combining traditional weaving heritage with contemporary technology.

The government also plans to register thousands of weavers and fit their handlooms with sensors that convert weave patterns into digital data, and issue QR-coded tags to trace provenance. Maharashtra’s Vingatha system does something similar at the state level by authenticating handloom sarees such as Paithani and Karvat Kathi.

The idea is simple: If a saree can tell you where it came from, the person who made it becomes harder to erase.

While these measures cannot stop AI-enabled design and mass production, they may give artisans more visibility and turn each piece into an archive.

In art galleries, the traditional textiles are increasingly shedding the label of craft for the more lucrative category of contemporary art.

Gurjeet Singh, an artist from Chandigarh city, recently hosted a textile-based solo show in New York. His work transforms discarded fabrics, buttons and embroidered scraps into sculptures that explore queer identity and social prejudices surrounding gender and sexuality.

Sayan Chanda, an Indian artist based in London, works with cut and rewoven vintage Bengali quilts to question fixed notions of cultural belonging. Gurugram-based artist Sumakshi Singh uses delicate embroidery and suspended thread structures to reconstruct the architectural fragments of vanished homes, gardens and personal histories. There are many more.

In New Delhi, 20 such artisans and craft-led collectives featured last month at an art show celebrating the traditional textile crafts.

“Our aim is to present these traditional crafts as living practices that continue to evolve through contemporary artisans, rather than as heritage to be archived. Kanmai Payun, one of the artists featured in the show, for example, is the last practitioner of Fulor Saneki, a flower pattern used by Assamese weavers. We encouraged her to teach her 17-year-old son so the craft outlives her,” Aparupa Ray Ganguly, the curator of the show, told Al Jazeera.

But as textiles gain value in art galleries, their makers do not necessarily gain automatic control over their work.

In April, another art exhibition in New Delhi, titled No ‘One’ Maker, saw artisans missing from the show’s preview, exposing how traditional textiles are aestheticised, but the people who carry that knowledge remain unrecognised.

“You cannot separate the names from the community. Call your mass-produced work digital prints and leave the traditional names to the original artisans,” says Chhipa, the artisan and merchant from Rajasthan.

The last time audiences saw Vision, the reconstructed synthezoid was flying off into the distance, and we didn’t know when we’d actually see him again. But he’s finally back.

Premiering Tuesday on Disney+, “VisionQuest” brings Vision (Paul Bettany) back into the spotlight — along with a few of his closest inorganic friends — as he tries to figure out his identity and understanding of humanity. Along the way, he’ll encounter a bounty hunter (Todd Stashwick) and a teenager that just might be his son (Ruaridh Mollica), sort of. It’s a long story.

Created by Terry Matalas, “VisionQuest” is set to wrap up the story set into motion by the 2021 series “WandaVision.” The Marvel Cinematic Universe’s first-ever streaming series saw a grief-stricken Wanda magically manifest a happy life for herself and Vision as newlyweds and, eventually, new parents. But that happiness wasn’t meant to last since the actual Vision was gone.

A lot has changed in the MCU since the conclusion of “WandaVision,” so here’s a quick refresher to get you up to speed for everything you need to know before watching “VisionQuest.”

Ultron (James Spader), left, and Vision (Paul Bettany) in “VisionQuest.”

(Marvel)

What is ‘VisionQuest’ about?

Set some time after the events of “WandaVision,” “VisionQuest” will follow Vision as he tries to sort through his understanding of his identity and humanity. The former weapon of mass destruction has been in hiding for some time, but a bounty hunter tracks him down and disrupts his quiet life before also discovering a young man who appears to be Vision’s son.

When was the last time we saw Vision?

Audiences last saw Vision at the end of “WandaVision.” The monochromatic version of the former Avenger had been rebuilt without his memories to be a sentient weapon, but during a showdown with his magically created double, he regained them. He then flew off into the unknown to figure out what having access to these memories means for him.

What happened to Wanda?

After undoing her hex that let her live out a version of a happily ever after with Vision, Wanda had to watch him and their kids — twin boys Tommy and Billy Maximoff — disappear. Her story continues in the 2022 movie, “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness,” where she taps into some dark magic in order to find a way to reunite with her boys somewhere in the multiverse for another attempt at that happy life. But she’s a bit overzealous and things take a (villainous) turn for the worse before she ultimately sacrifices herself and is crushed by a mountain.

Thomas Shepherd (Ruaridh Mollica) in “VisionQuest.”

(Marvel)

What happened to Wanda and Vision’s kids?

Audiences learned in the 2024 series, “Agatha All Along,” that although Billy and Tommy’s physical forms disappeared when Wanda undid her hex at the end of “WandaVision,” their souls remained. Instead of crossing over into the afterlife, Billy, the magically inclined twin, transferred his soul into the body of William Kaplan, a teenager who had just been involved in a fatal car crash. Billy, now inhabiting the body of and living as William, was then able to use his powers to help Tommy’s soul find a new body to inhabit. At the end of “Agatha,” Billy and his magical mentor, Agatha, headed off to search for Tommy.

Who else is in this show?

Joining Vision in his “VisionQuest” adventures are an array of other AIs created by Tony Stark — all of which essentially now reside inside of Vision’s head. Most of these programs did not have physical forms in their original MCU incarnations, but appear in human form within the world inside Vision’s mind.

J.A.R.V.I.S. (James D’Arcy) is the AI assistant that Stark originally created to help manage his home and office as well as his Iron Man suit. His core programming was used to make Vision during “Avengers: Age of Ultron” (2015). F.R.I.D.A.Y. (Orla Brady) is the AI assistant that was created to take over J.A.R.V.I.S.’ duties afterward.

E.D.I.T.H. (Emily Hampshire) was created by Stark to help manage his company’s security and defense systems and was connected to his glasses. These glasses were passed on to Peter Parker in “Spider-Man: Far From Home,” before they were acquired by the film’s villain for his nefarious plot.

F.R.I.D.A.Y (Orla Brady), J.A.R.V.I.S. (James D’Arcy), U (Johnathan Sayer) and D.U.M.-E. (Henry Lewis) appear human in Vision’s mind in “VisionQuest.”

(Marvel)

D.U.M.-E. (Henry Lewis) and U (Jonathan Sayer) were a pair of arm robots that helped Stark in his workshop. All of these AI have specific roles and responsibilities within Vision’s home in his mind.

Another resident within Vision’s head is Ultron (James Spader), the misanthropic genocidal AI originally created by Stark and Bruce Banner to help save humanity. He tried to delete J.A.R.V.I.S. during the events of “Age of Ultron,” which led to the creation of Vision, so their dynamic is a bit complicated.

Also set to appear on the show is Mollica’s Thomas Shepherd, an older incarnation of one of Wanda and Vision’s magically created sons who had disappeared when the hex enveloping Westview was undone.

What do I need to watch before watching ‘VisionQuest’?

“VisionQuest” has been touted as the conclusion of the “WandaVision” trilogy, which also includes “Agatha All Along.” The events of “WandaVision” appear to be most central to “VisionQuest’s” story, though.

Those who’d like to see Vision and Ultron’s story from the very beginning should add “Avengers: Age of Ultron” to their queue. Fans who want to delve more into Vision and Wanda’s love story can also check out “Captain America: Civil War” (2016) and “Avengers: Infinity War” (2018) — with the latter adding more context to Vision’s current state of being. Those who want to see what happened to Wanda after “WandaVision” should also watch “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.”

The slogan of the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair, which plays a prominent role in the new LACMA exhibition “Home of the Future, 1925–1985: Designing Domestic Utopias,” was blunt: “Science Finds, Industry Applies, Man Conforms.”

Those words capture a central tension in the sprawling show, which occupies interconnected galleries at the far end of the museum’s Resnick Pavilion. Many of the beautiful, sometimes ingenious products and technologies developed with the rise of the modern era gripped the popular imagination and made life easier, healthier and more connected. But they didn’t free people from domestic labor or deliver the prosperity and security heralded by their promoters. They instead often raised expectations, forced dependency and gave rise to a vision of progress that reinforced social exclusion, bred anxieties about status, and concealed the environmental costs of a culture built on consumption.

Sound familiar?

The desire for these transformative products was never innate, and LACMA’s exhibition zeroes in on that idea from the start. “Good design is seldom accepted. It has to be sold,” Midcentury photographer Julius Shulman is quoted as saying in the catalog.

The show traces the hard sell of a domestic utopia via world’s fair posters, model home catalogs, magazine advertisements, television specials and science-fiction imagery — along with close to 200 physical objects of every sort, including kitchen appliances, electronics and furniture. In each of its four documented eras — pre- and post-Depression, post-World War II, the height of the Cold War, and the counterculture ’60s and ’70s — promoters dressed the same promise in new terms, whether through cleanliness, leisure, security or freedom.

Arthur Radebaugh, “Closer Than We Think! Robot Housemaid,” 1959.

(Chicago Tribune / TCA, photo courtesy San Francisco Academy of Comic Art Collection, Billy Ireland Cartoon Library and Museum, Ohio State University)

At every turn a vision of a better life was made to seem desirable and, just as important, inevitable. Like any good advertising, it worked best when soothing our anxieties and tapping into our fantasies.

In the 1920s and ’30s, new discoveries about hygiene inspired products by soaring talents in the nascent field of industrial design who set out to create clean, easily maintained homes — laboratories for healthy living in an age still ravaged by diseases like polio and tuberculosis. Mathias J. Weber and Russell E. Vanderhoff’s seductively streamlined Health-o-Meter scale gave the illusion that homeowners could be scientists, for the first time monitoring their own weight and growth. Kohler’s Integra, introduced as “the toilet of the future” at the Chicago fair, had a dramatic black finish made to equate sanitation with modern design. And Bruce Goff’s gleaming Vitrolite kitchen for Libbey-Owens-Ford glass company, shown in Charles Turzak’s rendering, integrated pigmented structural glass counters and cabinets into a polished, easily cleaned whole.

American Stove Co., Magic Chef stove, series 1400, introduced 1935.

(Lynton Gardiner / The Wolfsonian–Florida International University )

Vast expansions in electricity, telecommunications and production promised to connect the country and ease the tedious work of cooking, washing and cleaning. The American Stove Co.’s Magic Chef stove, one of the first ovens to be equipped with a clock, recast kitchen work as something that could be measured and controlled. Frank G. Brotz’s Kohler Electric Sink, which incorporated a motorized dishwasher into the familiar basin, promised release from the “thrice-daily drudgery” of washing dishes. Western Electric’s clear-cased Model 302 telephone enticed gawkers with an impressively complex system of wires and mechanisms.

George R. Lum for Western Electric Co., Telephone, model 302, desk set 1938.

(AT&T Archives and History Center)

Many of the names who dreamed up these wonders are now etched in design history. Isamu Noguchi created a baby monitor before baby monitors were a thing: the Radio Nurse, a dark Bakelite receiver resembling an abstract face. Walter Dorwin Teague gave corporate products a precise, machine-age polish, while Raymond Loewy brought the same sleek optimism to objects like the globe-shaped New World radio for Colonial Radio Corp., molded in glossy, heat-resistant Catalin and embodying quite literally the new reach of communications.

Lester Beall’s Rural Electrification Administration poster.

(The Resnick Collection)

Selling this promise of a technological future to those clinging to the dream of American prosperity was an especially potent exercise during the Depression. In his illustrated 1932 manifesto “Horizons,” Norman Bel Geddes cast “new design” as a path toward “economy, efficiency, comfort and happiness.” As the economy faltered, an orderly, healthy home could be sold as a form of salvation, with prosperity seemingly within reach. At the Chicago fair, corporations sponsored full-scale model homes and filled them with products already available or soon to be. For rural households still without electricity, Lester Beall’s 1937 Rural Electrification Administration poster “Wash Day” turns federal infrastructure into a household fantasy. Inside the black silhouette of a farmhouse, a pristine white washing machine appears at an almost monumental scale, set against flat fields of saturated color.

Irving Harper of George Nelson and Co. for Herman Miller Inc., Marshmallow Love Seat, model 5670, designed 1956, this example made c. 1960s.

(Jonathan Urban / Museum Associates / LACMA)

By the ‘40s and ‘50s, the postwar home and its many accouterments — powered by wartime advancements, growing abundance and an ethos of “buy now, pay later” — amplified the promise. Plastic, prefabrication and push-button convenience suggested that mass production could bring elegant, futuristic living — and freedom from drudgery — within reach of the masses. George Nelson treated furniture as a flexible system, producing (with designer Irving Harper) the candy-colored Marshmallow Love Seat; replacing conventional upholstery with 18 brightly colored circular cushions mounted on a spare steel frame. Eero Saarinen produced the molded-fiberglass Pedestal chair, sweeping the seat and stem into a single sculptural form intended to eliminate what he called the “slum of legs” beneath tables and chairs.

Eero Aarnio for Asko Oy, Ball Chair, designed 1963.

(Jonathan Urban / Museum Associates / LACMA)

Architects attempted to make the home itself into a sexy product. At Disneyland, Monsanto’s House of the Future, designed by architects Richard Hamilton and Marvin Goody, was a gleaming, cross-shaped structure of molded plastic, raised above the ground on cantilevered supports and partnered (in renderings) with a plastic heliport. Its kitchen featured molded surfaces and electric appliances. Promotional images and films conjured a playful, adaptable and benevolent house — plastic as the building block of family happiness.

Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion house was an aluminum, factory-made “dwelling machine” that could be delivered by air and assembled almost anywhere. Its unified form, modular furnishings, water-recycling system and labor-saving technology promised a more efficient life, less tied to conventional building and household routines.

Hamilton & Goody Architects, Monsanto House of the Future, 1956.

(MIT Museum)

Institutions like the Museum of Modern Art and magazines like Arts & Architecture promoted prototype homes from now legendary industrial designers and modernist architects like Saarinen, Charles and Ray Eames, Marcel Breuer, Albert Frey, Gregory Ain and even Frank Lloyd Wright.

Effective pitches could turn a product, whatever size, into a fantasy of freedom. In the General Motors film “Design for Dreaming” (1956), directed by William Beaudine, a woman enters a fabulous kitchen as if in a magical dream. The promise, said curator Wendy Kaplan, was that the fictional woman would have more time for “tennis and hanging with … friends.” The dream even hinted at a life beyond domesticity — perhaps even freedom to “actually have a profession,” Kaplan added.

But the housewife in these displays was still expected to remain responsible for the home. Liberation came through a more efficient kitchen, not a change in who cooked. And appliances that reduced some labor often raised the bar: more frequent washing, more cleaning, more elaborate meals, as University of Chicago home economics professor Hazel Kyrk described in “Economic Problems of the Family.”

Frank G. Brotz for Kohler Co., Electric Sink, introduced 1926, this example 1928, Kohler Co.

(Kohler Archives)

That universal “everyone” did not, however, include everyone. Government-backed home ownership and the suburban boom excluded many Black, Latino and Asian Americans through redlining, restrictive covenants and discriminatory lending — a fact reflected in the almost complete absence of minorities in these vast selling campaigns.

A few welcome exceptions on the creators’ side are architect Paul R. Williams’ “Small Home of Tomorrow,” which proposed a simple, well-designed home fitted with gee-whiz appliances; Arthur Elrod and William C. Raiser’s swirling, vivid orange Ebony test kitchen, which treated cooking as creative craft; and the proposed multiracial community of Soul City, founded by Floyd McKissick, which imagined homeownership as a claim to economic autonomy that segregation denied.

The vision of a utopian domestic future took a strange turn during the Cold War, marrying the breathless excitement of the space age with the existential dread of nuclear annihilation. The same scientific power that had transformed lives now produced weapons capable of destroying humanity. The home was imagined as both shelter and command center.

Office of Donald Deskey Associates. Drawing, design for Undersea Lounge: Scheme 3 Interior Perspective, ca. 1960s. Designed by Russell Heston (b. 1929).

(The Estate of Donald Deskey, courtesy Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum / Art Resource, NY)

As the age’s potent mix of terror and delirium spun on, designers and illustrators proposed ways to live comfortably in space, underwater or in underground bunkers. Paul László’s “Atomville, U.S.A.,” a vision of suburbia half a century in the future, buried the family home beneath an earthen shell that doubled as a helicopter landing pad. Its sunken gardens and swimming pool promised comfort, while a blast door, escape hatches and air filtration protected against nuclear fallout. Donald Deskey Associates imagined a hypnotic “Undersea Lounge,” a self-contained interior for living beneath the water, while NASA illustrator Rick Guidice vividly depicted physicist Gerard K. O’Neill’s proposed Stanford Torus — an enormous, wheel-shaped suburb in space.

Bob Lerner for LOOK Magazine, Anne Anderson in RCA Whirlpool Miracle Kitchen, 1959, kitchen designed 1956.

(Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, LOOK Magazine, Photograph Collection / Robert S. Lerner Photography, LLC)

An endless array of products leaned into the public’s awe at the age’s sci-fi possibilities. This included prescient pieces ahead of their time, like the video-enabled AT&T Picturephone, and those that would never come to pass, such as the RCA Whirlpool Miracle Kitchen. The latter’s spread in Look Magazine (displayed for crowds at the 1959 American National Exhibition in Moscow) showcases a Roomba-like vacuum and other astonishing appliances that seem to work by themselves. But men hidden behind two-way mirrors actually operated them. Others, like the two-wheeled Ford Gyron Remote Control Car of the Future, only managed to come to life as children’s toys; and some were just plain ridiculous, like Honeywell’s H316 Kitchen Computer, which required a two-week training course just to retrieve a recipe.

Honeywell Inc.; Computer Control Division; Neiman Marcus, H316 Kitchen Computer, 1969.

(Mark Richards / the Computer History Museum)

By the late 1960s, confidence in technological progress was fraying. Environmental damage, plastic waste and the conformity of suburbia prompted designers and countercultural communities to imagine other ways of living — up to a point. The residents of Drop City, a Colorado artists’ community, built domes from the curved steel tops of salvaged cars. Architects Barry Simpson and Charles Hosford made a folding stool that could serve as a seat, stepstool or side table. Small, portable, multipurpose designs, from inflatables to cardboard furniture offered a life with fewer possessions. The Whole Earth Catalog, founded by writer and editor Stewart Brand, promoted ecological knowledge and self-sufficiency, but was still a compendium of things to buy.

Companies, too, found ways to sell all natural products, flexibility and individual expression. Zanotta advertised the first beanbag chair, the polystyrene-filled “Sacco,” as “A Big Bag, a Soft Seat.” Its formless body accommodated slouching, lounging or lying down, selling freedom from both conventional posture and the bourgeois living room. Even resistance to consumerism could be packaged as a new consumer ideal.

The pairing of objects with their promotional campaigns is the show’s most illuminating contribution, shedding light on the massive, often strange apparatus needed to drive these incredible designs — some icons, some welcome surprises — forward in each age. It reveals how the country’s 20th century manufacturing prowess expanded into the production of dreams. Corporations, government and the media taught consumers what progress should look like, which anxieties a product might soothe, and what kind of future to desire.

Isamu Noguchi; Zenith Radio Corporation, Radio Nurse receiver and Guardian Ear transmitter with original box, 1937.

( Museum Associates / LACMA)

But the sheer abundance of objects — I haven’t even mentioned the fascinating companion show-within-the-show, “The Kitchen and Its Discontents” — leaves less room for examining those campaigns and the work they performed. The excellent catalog follows those connections further, tracing how often hypnotic visions of the future home both reflected and shaped ideas about lifestyle, progress, gender, race, labor and consumption; in the galleries, those ideas remain largely suggestive.

Still, the exhibition offers a revelatory history — and a telling roadmap to our present. While the future imagined here made life easier, cleaner, more beautiful and more exciting, it did not arrive as advertised. The plastic home didn’t remake housing; the automated kitchen didn’t free women from domestic work; the self-sufficient home gave way to new forms of reliance. Yet a similar techno-utopian pitch survives in today’s smart homes and domestic technologies, from assistants like Alexa to artificial intelligence marketed as a way to make life easier. These tools may offer real benefits even as they addict and distract us. And while the systems sustaining our comfortable, consumption-driven lives launch us toward climate disaster.

These rooms powerfully evoke what Kaplan in the catalog calls America’s “restless forward motion, powered by the conviction that tomorrow’s design would solve today’s problems.” That ingenuity is worth celebrating. But its promises deserve open-eyed scrutiny.

It never has been about the glory for Semaj Morgan.

Not the touchdowns. Not the name, image and license deals. And not even the 2024 national championship he won with Michigan.

For the UCLA wide receiver, all of that plays second fiddle to giving back to his community in Detroit and touching the lives of the people around him through the Semaj J. Morgan Foundation — an initiative he started when he was 17 years old.

“My foundation is definitely the best thing that I do. It’s great being a football player, but being able to give back and show people that I really care for others and not just about football and money, I want to be able to pour back into the people that support me and show me love,” Morgan said. “A lot of people don’t get to wake up every day and know that there’s going to be food around. A lot of people in the city of Detroit don’t even know if they’re going to eat at all.”

UCLA receiver Semaj Morgan is surrounded by children he has helped through his foundation.

(Courtesy of the Morgan family)

Morgan decided he wanted to start the foundation when he handed out toys with the Dream Team Male Mentoring group, telling his dad, Semaj T. Morgan, that community service was his calling. But at 17, he was too young to have his name on the paperwork, so his parents opened the foundation for him.

Since the foundation’s launch in February 2023, Morgan has hosted turkey drives, during which he gives away 2,000 turkeys, 2,000 food bags and 1,000 hot meals along with hats, coats, scarves and gloves, in an effort to tackle the health and food gaps in his community.

Morgan also has spearheaded back-to-school giveaways, handing out backpacks and supplies to children.

“We don’t do it just to do it. We do it because we’re trying to close the educational gap that our kids in Detroit suffer from,” Morgan’s father said.

“When you have a kid that’s going to school with the same notebooks and pens and highlighters and erasers that their counterparts have, now they have more confidence when they go to school.”

Morgan received a grant from the Ballmer Group, founded by Clippers owner Steve Ballmer and his wife, for the foundation’s DiscoverWorks Summer program. The initiative serves 250 families, giving students the opportunity to get their test scores up in the morning and go on field trips in the afternoon, alongside other enrichment activities such as robotics and mentoring.

UCLA quarterback Nico Iamaleava celebrates with Semaj Morgan after scoring a touchdown against Purdue at the Rose Bowl on Sept. 19.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

But the endeavor closest to Morgan’s heart is the foundation’s Mother’s Day and Father’s Day events.

“These are mothers and fathers who lost their sons to gun violence. Semaj is their son, and he takes his NIL money, and he takes them to dinner, buys them gifts as if their son was here,” Morgan’s father said. “These are parents that a lot of these children’s murders have not been solved, so this is a way for us to bless these parents, let them know that they’re not forgotten. There’s never a dry eye in the room.”

The events — which started out with 10 moms and five dads and are up to 35 moms and 20 dads — are particularly special to Morgan, who was friends with some of the sons of the parents involved. Morgan said that seeing the parents and hearing their testimonies puts everything in his life into perspective.

While Morgan is humble about the effect his foundation has had on the people around him, others are taking notice.

UCLA receiver Semaj Morgan holds up a Michigan state Senate certificate recognizing his foundation’s work to support people in Detroit.

(Courtesy of Morgan familiy)

Morgan was recognized on the Michigan House floor by state Sens. John DaMoose and Rosemary Bayer for the community service that he’s led in Detroit.

And during the 2024-25 academic year, Morgan was nominated for the inaugural Big Ten Jackie Robinson Community & Impact Award by his previous school, Michigan, for his philanthropic work.

“He understands his mission and call in life, and that’s to bless other people. He’s not about him; he’s about other people, and it’s very rare that you see individuals at such a young age understand their mission and cause in life,” Morgan’s father said.

“Football is one thing, but when he’s giving out turkeys, food bags, hats and coats, he has a bigger smile than getting in the end zone because he understands these people need help.”

Morgan’s desire to help others was inspired by Curtis Blackwell — Morgan’s travel football coach and president of Sound Mind Sound Body Sports Academy. Morgan’s father said Blackwell always urged players to give back to others.

Blackwell, who coached Arizona Cardinals cornerback Will Johnson, Buffalo Bills cornerback Maxwell Hairston and former Michigan safety Makari Paige alongside Morgan, stresses education before football and places an equal emphasis on academics, athletics and life skills.

And because Michigan does not get the same high school football exposure as Texas, Florida or California, Blackwell was keen on getting his players on college visits, leading to Morgan receiving more than 25 offers — a direct result of the travel the team made to raise players’ exposure.

“Growing up in a single-parent home, I was fortunate to get a scholarship to college, and it was because of my coaches. And had it not been for my coaches, I don’t know where I would be,” Blackwell said. “If we as coaches are the best people to really influence young people, they will listen to their coach more than their mom, their teacher. And so if we can get the coaches to be the teachers off the field, we could really change their attitude.”

Blackwell was astounded that Morgan was the pupil who took the program’s mission the furthest, surpassing the efforts of NFL players and affecting people well before he’s turned 21.

“You don’t have to wait till you get to the NFL to make an impact. You don’t have to wait till you retire to give back. You can do something every step along the way, and that’s what we teach to our kids — lift as you climb,” Blackwell said. “Semaj took that and ran with it. He has a really big heart and he’s a person that is a giver, not a taker. He’s going to give you the shirt off his back.”

UCLA receiver Semaj Morgan catches a touchdown pass against Purdue at the Rose Bowl Stadium on Sept. 19.

(Kevin Terrell / Getty Images)

Morgan earned his bachelor’s degree at Michigan and is working on his master’s degree at UCLA while playing football and running his foundation from the West Coast. But he may miss his first foundation event when UCLA travels to Ann Arbor to play his former school in November, although coach Bob Chesney already gave him permission to stay in Michigan after the team leaves.

Morgan’s greatest achievement that weekend may not involve the scoreboard at the Big House.

“I might not have done the best on the field last year, but being able to come home knowing that I’m touching people’s lives, that’s the biggest thing for me,” Morgan said. “To do this at such a young age, and grow so rapidly and touch so many lives, it’s great for me. After football, I want to continue to give back to people. I eventually want to be able to start football programs.”

OSCAR-winner Eva Marie Saint, who has died aged 102, was a reluctant star who became a Hollywood legend.

From Alfred Hitchcock to Marlon Brando, the girl from New Jersey took on the biggest names in the business and triumphed.

She was nine months pregnant when she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in On The Waterfront in 1955, joking: “I may have the baby right here!”

Two days later her son — named Darrell, not Oscar — arrived.

Eva’s powerhouse performance alongside Marlon Brando was even more remarkable as it was her first film.

She had little truck with modern stars’ long acceptance speeches.

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The oldest living Oscar winner said of her two-sentence appearance: “That was a lot for someone to say in those days.

“Most people just said thank you and walked off the stage, which I loved.

“It’s gotten out of hand these days where people have to be funny and go on and on and on.”

With the worldwide success of follow-up movie North By Northwest, an agent pushed her to make more films and become a “superstar”.

Her reply was simple: “I can’t. I can only do one a year. I have young children.”

Her agent’s response was: “Well, I guess you won’t be a superstar.”

Her perfectly calm reply: “Well, I guess not.”

But she became one anyway, and her legendary beauty even inspired the 1984 song Rattlesnakes by Lloyd Cole.

Born in Newark, New Jersey, on July 4, 1924, Eva was from a Quaker background.

“I was in the chorus in high school, not a soloist,” she once said.

“I was on the basketball team. I played the violin, part of the orchestra. I never wanted to be out there alone. Ever.”

She studied acting at university in Ohio, then moved to New York, working in theatre and television.

Her big break came in the Broadway play The Trip To Bountiful, where she caught the eye of director Elia Kazan, who cast the then 29-year-old alongside Brando in On The Waterfront.

She said: “Brando was wonderful. Probably the finest actor I’ve ever worked with.”

But he was fickle. She said: “I only saw him once after On The Waterfront.

Years later, Elizabeth Taylor was having a birthday party and he came into the room.

“He came up, we hugged, and he saw a pretty brunette over my shoulder. He said goodbye and that was the last time I ever saw him.”

With an Oscar under her belt, Hollywood was desperate to make the most of her stardust, but Eva didn’t want to leave her second baby, Laurette, to work on North By Northwest.

Hitchcock’s on-set abuse was well known, but to Eva he was the perfect English gent.

She said: “Hitchcock was a high-class guy. He always had a suit on.”

North By Northwest was a box office hit and one of the pinnacles of Eva’s career.

Going out one night with co-star Cary Grant, she saw how he was mobbed.

She said: “I couldn’t have coped with that kind of fame. I wanted a normal life.”

And when she filmed Exodus in 1960 with Paul Newman, she took family on location in Israel and Cyprus.

She met Jeffrey Hayden before she was famous and they married in 1951 — a union that lasted 65 years until his death in 2016.

Eva’s TV roles included playing Superman’s mother in 2006 and Cybill Shepherd’s mum in Eighties hit TV series Moonlighting.

For her 100th birthday all her family gathered for a big party at her home in Los Angeles.

Eva said: “I certainly don’t feel 100 years old.”

Yet her age didn’t slow her down and she led an active life, saying: “I take walks out in the fresh air, like watching baseball — especially the Los Angeles Dodgers.

“I enjoy time with family and friends. A good life.”

OSCAR-WINNER Eva Marie Saint has died at 102.

The American actress died at her LA home on Tuesday, her family confirmed.

Eva Marie was the oldest living Oscar winner.

In 1955, the star scooped up an Academy Award for her big screen debut playing opposite Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront.

The New York Times wrote in its review that “amid scenes of carnage, she gives tenderness and sensitivity to genuine romance”.

She starred in North by Northwest as a seductive blonde spy in 1959.

More to follow… For the latest news on this story keep checking back at The Sun Online

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Sass Jordan, the Canadian rock star known for hits such as “Make You a Believer” and “Tell Somebody” who served as a judge on all six season of “Canadian Idol,” has died. She was 65.

Jordan died Friday surrounded by her family, according to an announcement posted to Instagram Saturday. No cause of death was provided, but she had reportedly canceled a number of performances in Ontario, Canada, in September “due to a serious medical condition.”

“She remains in our hearts, an inimitable force of nature,” her family wrote in the statement accompanying a photo of Jordan cuddling a cat. “An irreplaceable being of light and joy!”

Jordan made her solo debut with her 1988 album, “Tell Somebody,” which led to her winning the Juno Award — the Canadian equivalent of a Grammy — for most promising female vocalist the following year. She moved to Los Angeles in 1990 before releasing her follow-up album, “Racine,” in 1992.

“Racine” remained one of Jordan’s biggest solo albums, with tracks including “Make You a Believer,” “I Want to Believe,” “You Don’t Have to Remind Me” and “Goin’ Back Again.” She also recorded a duet with Joe Cocker, “Trust in Me,” for the 1992 film “The Bodyguard” that year.

“I always think of music as medicine and as healing for myself and for anyone else who wants to join in,” Jordan said in a 2023 interview with the CBC about audiences still responding to her earlier hits when she performed. “[S]o it’s an extremely uplifting thing. … It’s amazing and it’s incredible to see that. It’s incredible to see people responding to something that is genuinely, like you said, 20 years old.”

Born on Dec. 23, 1960, in Birmingham, England, Sarah “Sass” Jordan moved from France to Montreal with her family at age 3 when her father, a French literature professor, took a job at Concordia University, according to a statement shared by her publicist Eric Alper after her death. Seeing David Bowie in concert as a young teenager inspired Jordan to dream of a career in music. She began singing and playing guitar with friends in Westmount Park and by age 16 she was performing with bands in downtown Montreal nightclubs.

“I’m an expert on rebellion,” Jordan told The Times in 1992, reflecting on why she ran away from home at 14. “I didn’t want that clean, wholesome life … It felt so fake. I identified with real people, oppressed people who were outside that life. I wanted to taste real life — street life.”

Throughout her career, Jordan would tour alongside acts including Aerosmith, the Rolling Stones, AC/DC and Van Halen. Her touring band in 1994 included Taylor Hawkins, who would go on to become the drummer for the Foo Fighters. Jordan’s most recent release is the live album from that tour, titled “Live in New York Ninety-Four.” Hawkins died in 2022 at age 50.

For six seasons, Jordan served as one of the judges on the reality competition series “Canadian Idol.” The show aired from 2003 to 2008 and mirrored the format of shows like “Pop Idol” and “American Idol.”

“Over four decades, she gave Canadian rock one of its most recognizable voices, carved out space for women in a genre long dominated by men, and opened doors for the young musicians who came through her band,” Alper said in his statement. “Sass Jordan leaves a catalogue that shaped Canadian rock through the late ’80s and ’90s, a blues renaissance in which her voice grew richer with each record, and a generation of artists, from Idol hopefuls to a future Foo Fighter, who learned from her what it means to give a song everything.”

Jordan is survived by her husband Derek Sharp, daughter Stella Jordan-Sharp, stepdaughter Brianne Sharp and brother Daniel Jordan.

CHICAGO — Dennis Hastert, the nation’s longest-serving Republican House speaker, who helped turn much of President George W. Bush’s agenda into law before his own political legacy was forever fouled by allegations that he molested high school athletes when he was a wrestling coach, died over the weekend, a coroner said Monday. He was 84.

Hastert, who was speaker from 1999 until 2007, died of natural causes at his home, according to Kendall County Coroner Jacquie Purcell.

When he was sentenced in 2016 to more than a year behind bars, the former history teacher became one of the highest-ranking American politicians ever ordered to prison.

In the late 1990s, Hastert was a little-known Illinois lawmaker with a reputation for congeniality that had helped him ascend the ranks of congressional leaders. When Newt Gingrich lost support because of ethics violations and the GOP’s poor showing in an election, Republicans elected Hastert to succeed him. In his first weeks on the job, he presided over the House while the Senate conducted Bill Clinton’s impeachment trial.

After the GOP reclaimed the White House, Hastert took much of what Bush proposed and steered it to passage, including massive tax cuts and a measure that amounted to a huge expansion of prescription drug benefits — the biggest change in Medicare in decades.

His legacy was suddenly thrown into doubt in 2015, when he was accused of evading banking regulations as part of a plan to pay hush money to conceal unspecified “prior misconduct.” Nearly a year later, prosecutors filed papers that described what media reports had suggested for months: Hastert’s misconduct involved the sexual abuse of teenage boys on his wrestling team in the small town of Yorkville, west of Chicago.

During a 16-year coaching career, he led his team to a state championship and was named national coach of the year in 1976. But behind the accolades, prosecutors said, Hastert sexually abused at least four team members from 1965 to 1981.

The person Hastert was paying, identified in court papers only as Individual A, said the abuse occurred in a motel room when he was 14 on the way home from wrestling camp. Hastert allegedly touched other wrestlers in a locker room after saying he would give them massages. Two wrestlers said Hastert performed sex acts on them.

Prosecutors also described a recliner where Hastert often sat in the locker room with a direct view of the stalls where the boys showered.

Hastert agreed to plead guilty to evading banking laws. In all, he paid more than $1.7 million out of $3.5 million that he had promised to Individual A, sometimes in lump sums of $100,000 cash.

At the sentencing hearing where he received 15 months behind bars, the visibly angry judge called Hastert a “serial child molester.” A former wrestler struggled with his emotions as he told the court about his “dark secret” from adolescence.

In his own statement, Hastert said he was “deeply ashamed” and admitted that he “mistreated” some of his athletes. But he never referred directly to sexual abuse.

The public knew nothing about Hastert’s past when Republicans lost seats in the 1998 midterm elections. Hastert confronted Gingrich about dissatisfaction in the GOP ranks, saying it was unlikely Gingrich could hold his post, Hastert wrote in “Speaker: Lessons from 40 Years in Coaching and Politics.”

“Well, I’ll make them support me,” he quoted Gingrich saying of the GOP rebels. Told that was unlikely, Gingrich asked Hastert what to do.

“Do what you have to do,” he replied. The next day, Gingrich stepped down as speaker and left the House.

Hastert’s path to the speaker’s office was cleared when Louisiana Rep. Bob Livingston, who was considered a lock to replace Gingrich as speaker, resigned after acknowledging several extramarital affairs.

In January 1999, Hastert broke with tradition by delivering his acceptance speech from the House floor and by allowing Minority Leader Dick Gephardt, a Missouri Democrat, to briefly preside over the day’s proceedings.

“Solutions to problems cannot be found in a pool of bitterness,” Hastert said in his speech. “They can be found in an environment in which we trust one another’s word, where we generate heat and passion, but where we recognize that each member is equally important to our overall mission of improving the life of the American people.”

Hastert was aware of the personal pitfalls of holding the powerful position.

“You know, in this business, especially in a job like this, you can get your head someplace where it shouldn’t be,” Hastert said in a 1999 interview with The Associated Press. “But you come back home, and you’re home. You’re back where you’ve always been, and your feet are back on the ground.”

He was generally viewed as a friendly, even-tempered lawmaker. His wrestling experience followed him to Washington, with GOP colleagues often calling him “coach.”

Hastert said he lacked the appetite for higher office.

As the recount of the 2000 presidential election dragged on, Hastert’s aides briefed him on the possibility that he might become acting president in the event of an Electoral College deadlock.

“I really didn’t want to be president, temporary or otherwise,” he wrote in his book. But he decided that he would not pass the office to the constitutional officer next in line if an Electoral College deadlock extended beyond Inauguration Day. In the end, the Supreme Court’s 5-4 ruling ended the recount, and Bush moved into the White House.

Hastert’s journey to Congress from his boyhood farm appeared to be the result of fate and luck.

In 1980, he finished third in an Illinois House primary. But the incumbent became fatally ill, and GOP leaders chose Hastert to take his place on the November ballot, where he won in a traditional GOP stronghold.

Hastert became a congressional candidate in 1986, when local Republican leaders put him on the primary ballot, replacing freshman Rep. John Grotberg, who was battling cancer. Hastert went on to beat the Democrat with 52 percent of the vote, his smallest margin of victory in a congressional race.

In Washington, Hastert served quietly in House leadership, working closely with Gingrich and then-House Majority Whip Tom DeLay after Republicans took control in 1995. Several years later, DeLay was the force driving Clinton’s impeachment and was simply too toxic to seek the speaker’s chair.

Hastert’s tenure was marked by a shift of power from committee chairmen to GOP leaders, fealty to the Bush administration and an explosion of congressional pet projects known as earmarks. Democrats fumed that he weakened the ethics process that ensnared DeLay, who left Congress under a cloud of criminal charges in 2006.

Hastert became wealthy largely through a complex web of transactions that coincided with one of his own highway earmarks increasing the value of land he had purchased in his district.

He was forced to step down as speaker in 2007, when Democrats gained control of the House, and he resigned his seat later that year. In 2008, he joined the Washington lobbying firm of Dickstein Shapiro as a senior adviser, specializing in government law and strategy.

Born in Aurora, Illinois, Hastert earned a bachelor’s degree in economics from Wheaton College in 1964 and a master’s in education from Northern Illinois University in 1967.

In 2007, Wheaton named its newly created public policy center the J. Dennis Hastert Center for Economics, Government and Public Policy. After Hastert’s indictment, the school removed his name in 2015. Other organizations abandoned associations with Hastert, and his portrait was removed from a hallway outside the House chamber.

Hastert lived his entire life in Chicago’s suburbs, primarily in the Yorkville area. While growing up, he helped his father with the family feed business.

Survivors include his wife, Jean, and two adult sons.

Tarm and McCann write for the Associated Press. Tarm and McCann are former Associated Press reporters.

When Dodgers rookie Josue De Paula debuted a little over two weeks ago, he was the youngest player in the lineup by four years. And when veteran infielder Miguel Rojas pinch-hit for Alex Freeland in the eighth inning, the 21-year-old De Paula and 29-year-old Kyle Tucker were the only Dodgers under 30 remaining in the batting order.

“You’ve got to have both,” veteran shortstop Mookie Betts, who turns 34 next month, said in a recent conversation with the Times. “You need experience, but you also do need youth. I don’t know what the balance is, to be honest.”

The age of the Dodgers’ stars is the most persistent knock on a group that just finished a 100-win regular season and has the second-best odds to win the World Series (16.7%), according to Baseball Prospectus.

It’s the threat looming beyond every new accomplishment. Yes, the Dodgers are in the midst of a historic run. Only one other organization has strung together so many consecutive postseason berths, and that Braves team of the 1990s and early 2000s won only one World Series.

The Dodgers are aiming to become the first National League team to claim three straight championships.

But how long can this last?

The Dodgers’ lineup is the oldest in the majors, according to Baseball Reference, with an average age of 30.9 years old when weighted by at-bats and games played. Their star corner infielders, Freddie Freeman and Max Muncy, are the oldest of the everyday starters, at 37 and 36, respectively. Even two-way phenom Shohei Ohtani turned 32 in July.

“That’s a fact, we’re an older team,” manager Dave Roberts said. “With age, there’s experience. I know we’re not going to fall off a cliff, our team.”

Plenty of young players in the Dodgers’ system have been blocked by older stars over the years. But in addition to a sky-high payroll, the Dodgers are known for their player development.

Even after the trade deadline — when the Dodgers sent two MLB Top-100 prospects, outfielder Zyhir Hope (No. 25) and right-hander River Ryan (No. 68), to the Tigers as part of the trade package for left-hander Tarik Skubal — the organization’s farm system ranked No. 1 on MLB Pipeline’s rankings.

Serving as a reminder of that strength, when the Dodgers called up De Paula straight from double A, he immediately showed his bat belonged in the big-leagues.

At the same time, injuries stoked the flames of the age discussion. De Paula got his shot because Ohtani finally went on the injured list, after managing problems with his left knee and right biceps for much of the season.

Freeman pushed through knee tendinitis in September. Teoscar Hernández (left hamstring strain) and Betts (right oblique strain) both had monthlong IL stints earlier in the season but have helped carry the offense lately.

“As I’ve gotten older, I’m definitely taking a lot more care of my body,” Betts said. “I know I had an oblique [injury] earlier, but as far as just showing up every day and whatnot, I feel like we do a good job in taking care of our bodies and staying healthy for the most part.

“But I mean, people are talking like we’re the only ones in the league that’s getting hurt. You look everywhere around the league, somebody’s hurt.”

That’s true. And it also isn’t just the guys in their mid-to-late 30’s sustaining soft-tissue injuries. Dodgers catcher Dalton Rushing, 25, served back-to-back IL stints for a flexor strain in his forearm down the stretch.

The Dodgers’ roster has proven deep enough to withstand injuries, as the team posted the second-best regular-season record in the majors this year.

“We’re not going to win games the same way that Milwaukee or Tampa Bay or these younger teams are winning games,” said Rojas, 37. “We’re going to win games a different way. We’re going to win games with a lot of talent, with experience, and winning moments.”

Over the years, the Dodgers have brought in players with postseason experience. But roster continuity also has meant that 17 players on this year’s projected postseason roster also contributed to both of the Dodgers’ last two World Series-winning seasons.

So, after playing more games than any other team the past couple years, the Dodgers may be a little hobbled going into their first-round bye. Regardless, they just completed their first 100-win season since 2023.

“The experience, how smart these guys are on the field, I think those things help win moments and win battles on the edges in October,” president of baseball operations Andrew Friedman said when the Dodgers clinched the NL West title earlier this month. “It’s not as easy to navigate through a 162-game season with an older roster. But I do think that experience in those moments will definitely help and we’ll see it shine through at different points in October.”