Angelenos

With less than a week until Nov. 3, it seems like the Los Angeles mayor’s race is Karen Bass’ to lose.

After a bad debate against challenger Nithya Raman over the summer and the fiasco that was City Hall’s response to the Lineage fire, the incumbent had no other way forward but attack, attack, attack.

Now, a poll by the UC Berkeley Institute of Governmental Studies and co-sponsored by The Times has the two in a statistical dead heat, with 19% of voters undecided and time running out for both campaigns to grab them. It’s a stunning reversal from just a month ago, when the same poll had Raman substantially ahead.

Councilmember Nithya Raman, right, speaks during an Oct. 13 debate with Mayor Karen Bass, left, moderated by Conan Nolan, Colleen Williams and Alejandra Ortiz.

(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)

Bass barely improved on her abysmal favorability ratings. But some Angelenos seem willing to shrug and cast a ballot for her, because they just don’t trust the more liberal alternative. Raman, a democratic socialist who has served on the City Council since 2020, saw her unfavorability rating jump to 50%, as more people got to know her and didn’t like what they saw.

This isn’t the first time voters have swung like this in a mayoral race involving an unpopular incumbent and an upstart representing a new L.A.

In 1969, the candidate with six years on the City Council was Tom Bradley. The mayor, who, like Bass, had served in the California state Assembly and Congress was Sam Yorty, four years removed from a disastrous response to the Watts riots.

Bradley placed first in the primary and seemed a shoo-in to become L.A.’s first Black mayor in an era when cities across the country were also electing Black mayors.

Councilman Tom Bradley, right, and Mayor Sam Yorty debate in Tarzana in May 1973.

(Los Angeles Times)

So Yorty — a former New Dealer turned conservative Democrat — chose the only path to victory. He claimed that “left-wing radicals” who supported the arriviste were salivating to “take over your city.” The nattering negativity worked: He easily beat Bradley.

History doesn’t repeat itself, the adage goes, but it always rhymes.

One factor boosting Bass’ fortunes: Backers of conservative reality TV star Spencer Pratt, who finished third in the June primary, are trending toward the mayor they loathe, apparently because they hate Raman even more.

Part of Raman’s fall is self-inflicted. She lost her momentum with an October of unforced errors, from awkward television interviews to inadvertently praising the late LAPD Chief Daryl Gates, whose name is still synonymous with Lucifer across swaths of the city.

You know you’re having a bad month when you think it’s wise to yell, “Only you can stop fascist liars!” in unison with a progressive influencer, only to walk it back after realizing the influencer had superimposed an image of your opponent on his video.

Councilmember Nithya Raman celebrates advancing to the general election with mayoral campaign volunteers and supporters at Lawless Brewing Co. on June 13.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

But don’t discount how Bass’ camp decided to frame the race. Facing voters who just don’t like their candidate, they long ago stopped focusing on how she would govern the city better in a second term and doubled down on attacking Raman anywhere and everywhere. That strategy owes as much to Yorty’s win as the Beats did to Walt Whitman.

Raman’s colleagues on the City Council have trashed her like bullies out of a boarding school novel.Videos and fliers of homeless encampments blooming across L.A. under a Raman regime are reminiscent of Yorty campaign ads featuring Bradley and the caption, “Will Your City Be Safe With This Man?”

Bass — whose usual sunny disposition I’ve always found a tonic in the toxic world of politics — lashed into Raman during their final debate, offering no real platform and little defense of her record, preferring instead to paint an L.A. collapsing without her in charge.

“Now is not the time,” she said at one point, “to turn the city over to Nithya Raman.”

Then when, Karen?

L.A. Mayor Sam Yorty in 1971.

(Los Angeles Times)

The comparison to 1969 isn’t apples to apples, of course. The city’s demographics are vastly different, its politics nowhere near as conservative. L.A.’s first female Black mayor would never throw racist slurs at Raman, although Bass and her team continue to point out that the India-born council member has lived in L.A. for only 13 years and thus doesn’t understand the place — a page from Yorty’s troll-tastic playbook.

I don’t like Bass’ tactics, but I get it. When you have nothing to run on but your failures, you have to go nasty against a rival who offers a different vision for the city — because fearmongering works when Angelenos know change is on the way but are skittish about what’s next. It happened in 1969, it happened in 2001 when James Hahn beat Antonio Villaraigosa, and it seems to be happening this time around.

We’ll see what election day brings, but Raman can take solace in history if she loses.

Bradley lost his first mayoral campaign but easily won his rematch against Yorty in 1973, after voters realized the status quo was going to remain the status quo. Villaraigosa, too, eventually became mayor.

“Nothing is as powerful as an idea whose time has come,” goes another cliché of history.

Bass might very well cling to her position, but Angelenos still yearn for a visionary to pick them back up from four years of despair under her. They know she’s not it.

Let’s hope she doesn’t become like Yorty in his last term, complaining about haters being unfair and fending off the rebels she can only keep away for so long.

Everyone is going to die. Acknowledging this — and reminding oneself daily of one’s mortality — is a core tenet of Buddhist teachings. Few places make that reminder more vivid than Hollywood Forever Cemetery, the iconic Los Angeles graveyard where more than 90,000 people are buried.

Inside the Masonic Lodge on the cemetery grounds, beneath chandeliers, dozens of people search for stillness with a meditation class. In an ornate Italian Renaissance-style room, participants sit scattered across couches and cushions, cross-legged with their eyes closed. The room is silent.

Headstones at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

Nico Cary is one of the meditation group leaders at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

For meditation teacher Nico Cary, the cemetery is an ideal backdrop for mindfulness and a lesson in impermanence. “It is quite grounding and an extension of some of the practice we do,” Cary says.

Beth Kaiserman, who regularly attends the meditation group, sees the cemetery as a chance to demystify death. “It’s accepting it as part of life. We’re coming out of our lives to come to this meditation. We’re walking by these gravestones that have been here for so long,” she says. Death, in her mind, doesn’t have to be taboo. “It is a big part of the practice to hopefully come to some level of acceptance that it’s just part of the cycle.”

Practicing meditation at Hollywood Forever is a privilege, explains Cary. The cemetery is not simply a place where people come to mourn; it is a place where relatives return to remember, honor and love those who have died.

Hollywood Forever is, quite literally, livelier than most cemeteries. The grounds are home to a colony of roughly 60 abandoned cats that has attracted a group of loyal caretakers, as well as dozens of peafowl roaming freely. The cemetery is also the final resting place of Hollywood legends, including Cecil B. DeMille, Judy Garland and the rock group the Ramones, where fans leave offerings. Since 2002, Cinespia has hosted outdoor screenings of iconic films at the cemetery during the summer, drawing hundreds of people to the grounds. The cemetery also hosts summer concerts.

“It feels pretty special to be somewhere, on land that’s so cared for, and that so many people come to share love, really — to remember their loved ones, to honor their ancestors,” Cary says.

For more than eight years, Insight LA has brought meditation to Hollywood Forever every Monday night, with a revolving list of teachers leading sessions in the Masonic Lodge. The class is donation-based, as is traditional in the Buddhist practice. Often, the teachers will lead a guided walking meditation through the cemetery grounds.

Insight LA, a Buddhist teaching nonprofit that was founded in 2002 by Trudy Goodman, is based in Santa Monica but also has a retreat house in Benedict Canyon for daylong events.

Members of a weekly meditation group at Hollywood Forever Cemetery participate in a guided session inside the Masonic lodge.

“We have yearlong programs. We have residential retreats. We have weekly drop-in meditation classes, and then we have the Hollywood Forever group too,” says Melissa McKay, the executive director at Insight LA.

According to McKay, the benefits of meditation are striking. “Put simply: It decreases stress, bringing calm and clarity, becoming more aware of oneself,” she says. “It decreases the negativity of the mind, self-hatred, the fears, the spiraling judgment — all of that. It increases the positive sides of our mind: our compassion, care, friendliness, clarity.”

A 2026 UC San Diego study confirms that just seven days of meditation can create molecular changes in the brain linked to stress relief, enhanced neuroplasticity and natural pain relief. The study also shows that meditation can positively affect the immune system and metabolism.

James Rokel practices mindfulness while walking alongside tombstones.

Despite the backdrop, meditation is not just about facing death, McKay says — it’s about learning how to live consciously. One participant, Jared Swanson, thinks of the meditation group as a school for emotional awareness.

“There was a moment where I realized I was in a lot of cycles — relational cycles — and wanted change,” says Swanson. He has been integrating the mindful practices into his life. “I think it’s a desire to be more responsible for my life, to be more present and responsible for my actions and choices,” he says.

Meditation nights attendees range from curious first-time visitors to seasoned veterans who have been practicing Buddhism for over two decades. Cary says the practice can benefit people regardless of their experience level.

“The intentional space to be with ourselves is so nourishing,” says Cary. “Then we practice. You add in a practice on top of that and magical things start to happen.”

Cary leads the group in 30 minutes of silence before a lesson. Participants settle into their cushions. He invites them to rock gently back and forth, a movement he calls “grandmother wisdom,” the kind of care one might offer a crying child. He poses a question for reflection: “What are you trusting right now?”

Insight LA has brought meditation to Hollywood Forever Cemetery every Monday night for nearly 10 years; a walking meditation is often involved.

Nicki Katz, who has been attending the meditations for two years, enjoys the practice of sitting in the quiet. Last year, she attended a 10-day silent retreat, only to accidentally break her silence by excitedly greeting a bunny during a picnic. “I come back to the body and the present awareness of allowing my mind to find some sense of gratitude,” says Katz. She explains that silence also helps her become more intentional with her words.

Tonight’s lesson is on truthfulness and embodying loving kindness. Lessons vary from week to week. “Oftentimes, it’s what the teacher is feeling or what’s come up for them in their practice,” says Cary.

For Monday meditation, the teaching group has assigned the 10 paramis (spiritual virtues) of Buddhism, which explore topics like generosity, wisdom and patience. “We’ve been going into that all year, so each month is one of the paramis,” says Cary.

“The intentional space to be with ourselves is so nourishing,” says meditation leader Nico Cary.

To begin the lesson, he reads a letter he wrote to the president at 5 years old, cautioning him of the perils of nuclear war. The letter is met with snaps and giggles, as a 5-year-old Cary warns of imminent death. “Apparently I was a peculiar child with a morbid sensibility, preoccupied with nuclear war,” he says, smiling. “It makes a lot of sense as to why I became a Buddhist.”

Cary begins to speak about the current moment and how he believes truth has become distorted and refracted in the age of social media. “Trauma is a distortion of reality,” he says. He then invites group members to consider love and kindness in their daily practice.

As the session winds down, participants spring to their feet to discuss the evening. The Masonic Lodge bursts into chatter — the silence abandoned. Tonight, the cemetery is alive.