Area

In summer, it’s too hot. And in rain, the muddy dirt roads threaten to swallow your car.

But if you can hit Carrizo Plain National Monument on a spring day when the hills and grasslands are green and a few wildflowers remain in the meadows — well, you’re winning. And you’ll be seeing a lonely, raw corner of California that few people ever find.

The monument is about 38 miles long and 17 miles wide — hard to miss, you’d think. But it lies along the San Andreas fault in the usually dry hills between Bakersfield and Santa Maria, far from Interstate 5 or U.S. 101, about 170 driving miles northwest of Los Angeles.

Signs warn motorists what’s ahead in Carrizo Plain National Monument in San Luis Obispo County.

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

Within the monument, most of the roads are gravel or dirt, and there is no drinkable water, no food, no gas and spotty cellphone coverage. The education center and two semi-primitive campgrounds feature vault toilets.

It’s almost perfect, in other words, for repelling crowds. Yet it’s pretty good as the centerpiece of an overnight road trip probing small towns and back roads of the western San Joaquin Valley and eastern San Luis Obispo County.

If you happen to arrive Friday, Carrizo staffers and volunteers will be celebrating the 25th anniversary of the monument, which was created from former ranch land under President Clinton. (Free tours and refreshments will be offered at the event, which takes place from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the Guy L. Goodwin Education Center.) But next week might be greener, because rain on the plain is probable Saturday and Sunday.

For many visitors, Carrizo’s big draw is wildflowers. The grasslands and hillsides act as a vast, uncluttered canvas for their colors, which typically bloom in March and last through April. But every year is different, especially in this era of climate change. This year, after unusually heavy rains in February, Carrizo Plain erupted in a dramatic bloom in March, attracting several hundred visitors per day.

In Carrizo Plain National Monument on a spring day, the hills and grasslands were green and a few wildflowers remained in the meadows.

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

By the time my wife and I arrived in the first days of April, the flowers were past their peak, but the hills were still green and many meadows popped with yellow, purple and blue. If I’m reading my wildflowers handbook right, these were tidy tips, Goldfields, Owl’s Clover, thistle sage, Valley Larkspur, coreopsis, phacelia and hillside daisies.

Meanwhile, the 3,000-acre Soda Lake, which lies dusty, crusty, dry and white in summer, still had some water in it. Imagine the salty lake beds of Mono Lake, the Salton Sea or Death Valley’s Badwater, but surrounded by green hills. It was startling — the opposite of an oasis in the desert.

To get there, we drove north on I-5 into the San Joaquin Valley, then veered west by way of State Routes 166, 33 and 58, pausing for gas at Maricopa (population: 984).

Within the monument, we rambled along Soda Lake Road, admiring windmills, an old ranch house now reserved for bats, and a few hills dotted with lazy cows. (The monument is run by the Bureau of Land Management, which allows grazing.)

Looking a little bit more closely, you realize that the monument is all but torn in two by the San Andreas fault. On Elkhorn Road, you remember that those mountains to the east (the Temblor Range) are slowly lurching to the southeast. Meanwhile the Caliente Range — those mountains just to the west — are lurching the opposite way. The “offset” is growing by about 1.5 inches per year — at least, until the next big quake.

A lone visitor stands at the edge of Soda Lake in Carrizo Plain National Monument.

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

Slowly rolling through this scene, we spotted two critters scurrying along the roadside — fist-size creatures hopping on their back legs. These were probably giant kangaroo rats, a native species whose numbers have been growing since their listing as an endangered species in 1987.

We didn’t spot any blunt-nosed leopard lizards or San Joaquin Valley kit foxes (which eat giant kangaroo rats) but those species, too, are endangered and native to the area. Pronghorn antelope and Tule elk are out there, too, the experts say, along with California condors soaring overhead. We just saw crows, loitering on fence posts.

The Goodwin Education Center, the monument’s main gathering spot, is open Thursdays through Sundays, December through May. We looked at maps, got advice on where to go next and ate our sack lunches at a picnic table, marveling at those green slopes.

A San Joaquin kit fox is displayed at the Goodwin Education Center within Carrizo Plain National Monument.

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

In this long valley, scientists have found signs of Native campsites up to 10,000 years old — a hint of how much wetter this area once was. Not far from the education center is a short hike to Painted Rock, a protected site that includes Native pictographs on a horseshoe-shaped sandstone formation. The red, black and white images go back 100-4,000 years. (We didn’t see them. From March through May, visitors can see the pictographs only on Saturday guided tours. From July 16 through February, visitors can book self-guided tours.)

After lunch we nosed around nearby Soda Lake, exited the north end of the monument, joined State Route 58 and headed west over a series of whoop-de-doos — those rises and falls in the road that will help you defy gravity, if you take them fast enough.

One of them, I realize now, was the San Andreas fault itself.

Through all of this, we saw no more than 15 or 20 people, cars included. Continuing from State Route 58, we joined State Route 41, watched oak trees and vineyards pop up and multiply, continued into Paso Robles and spent the night.

On the return trip we lingered for an hour or two in Santa Margarita (population: 1,149), checking out the Porch Cafe, the Barn (antiques) and the Giddy Up vintage goods and gift shop, which operates in a blue Quonset structure known as the Rainbow Hut.

Holli Rae owns and runs the Giddy Up vintage goods and gift shop on El Camino Real in Santa Margarita.

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

“It’s just a sweet little town. So quiet,” said Holli Rae, a filmmaker and former Angeleno who opened the Giddy Up about two years ago. She moved north, she said, for “the nature, the animals, the deer, the birds. The creatures!”

Thanks to U.S. 101, we were home and grateful within three and a half hours.

Soon, we knew, summer will come and fry the Carrizo Plain until everything green is brown. Beginning June 1, in fact, the Goodwin Education Center will close for six months.

For a few more weeks, Angelenos, your window of opportunity is open.

If you go

Where to explore:
Check out the Carrizo Plain National Monument website or call the visitor center at (661) 391-6191. The recorded information line is (661) 391-6193. Also check the weather; most roads in the monument are dirt or gravel and can become impassable in rain.

Where to sleep:
Adelaide Inn, 1215 Ysabel Ave., Paso Robles; (805) 238-2770. This hotel, located near 24th Street and U.S. 101, includes a pool and children’s play area. Rates start at about $100.

River Lodge, 1955 Theatre Drive, Paso Robles; (805) 221-7377. This hotel, born as a motel in 1947, was reborn as a boutique property in 2024. It has 28 rooms, a patio restaurant (Ciao Papi) and an adult-only pool. It stands alongside U.S. 101, about 3 miles south of downtown Paso. Midweek rates often start at $149, often doubling on weekends.

Melody Ranch Motel, 939 Spring St., Paso Robles; (805) 238-3911. This is a throwback 1950s motel with a swimming pool, open May through September. From the start, it has had 19 rooms and a prime spot on Spring Street, the main artery of Paso Robles. Rates start at about $100. Most reservations are taken by phone, in person or through Expedia.

Where to eat:
Joe’s Place, 205 Spring St., Paso Robles; (805) 238-5637. Since 1995, this breakfast-and-lunch spot has been a local favorite for casual family meals.

The Porch Cafe, 22322 El Camino Real, Santa Margarita; (805) 438-3376. This all-day cafe (with beer and wine) stands along the main drag in sleepy little Santa Margarita.

Dilapidated buildings and decaying signage may put off the casual observer. But for Redlands-based artists James McClung and Marcus Mercado, the gritty patina of the Inland Empire urban landscape conjures memories of life in the region.

Honoring these unassuming entities is the main focus of a new community exhibit, titled “Our Empire,” at the Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art & Culture.

A total of 29 acrylic, mixed media paintings and drawings by McClung and Mercado will be on display at the Altura Credit Union Community Gallery until Oct. 23.

“James and Marcus’ artistic excellence, deep local roots and passion to tell the stories of their neighborhoods aligns with the vision of the Altura Credit Union Community Gallery — a space dedicated to providing opportunities for SoCal artists to showcase their work and uplift the people and places of our region,” said Valerie Found, interim executive director of Riverside Art Museum.

“A lot of people that grew up in these communities see some of these locations and they’re very relatable to their upbringing,” says McClung. “Things have transformed this area as well.”

Take for instance the San Bernardino Santa Fe smokestack, a towering 189-foot-tall structure from the 1920s that fueled the nearby railway power plant until 1994.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

For McClung, who grew up drawing comic book strips with his brother, the historic tower conjures memories of being in transit — after all, it is not far from the San Bernardino Santa Fe Depot, which links the city to other Southern California locations by train.

“I would go out to L.A. in my early 20s, just go off on my own and have a little adventure day,” says McClung. “Santa Fe structure stands out like a monument in the city.”

McClung depicts the tower with rigid orange triangles and hints of dewy sun-kissed hues, alongside a pencil-drawn image of the old Mt. Vernon Avenue Bridge, an 86-year-old structure that connected communities on the west side to the downtown commercial district. The bridge reopened last August under a $244.8–million project.

An elderly man holding a cane is also shown in the upper left area of the painting.  ”Who knows, he probably walked that bridge most of his life,” says McClung, who says he began to appreciate where he grew up following the pandemic.

“When I was a kid, I just remember driving around, looking out the window and observing the area around me,” says McClung. “I think growing up here teaches you to accept the small things and appreciate them too, appreciating small businesses and local establishments.”

Mercado’s interpretation of the Santa Fe tower is subtle, with the smokestack laid out behind the long-stretching freight trains carrying J.B. Hunt and FedEx shipping containers that pass below the renovated Mt. Vernon Avenue Bridge — an industrial crossroad between old and new San Bernardino.

“It’s mostly a reflection of your starting point heading towards L.A.,” he said.

Mercado notes that he took an interest in painting familiar, neglected sites about four years ago. His subjects include the sun-faded hamburglar at the Historic Original McDonald’s Museum in San Bernardino, located at the site where brothers Richard and Maurice McDonald established what would become the largest fast-food chain in the world.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

The defunct Redlands Mall, which is set to be demolished this year, is also a central subject in his artwork.

“I remember specifically being there, memories of the nail salon chemicals. There was a record shop and a hot dog on a stick,” says Mercado of the mall, which opened in 1977. “You’d go during Redlands Market Night, people would be hanging out, so all your friends would kind of meet up for that one night a week.”

When Mercado acquired photos from inside the vacant Redlands Mall from a friend, he saw his beloved hot dog on a stick shop, which he frequented in his middle and high school years, now in a desolate state with empty soda boxes and graffiti that depicted workers as stick figures. He painted it as such.

“To me, it is just a reflection of how we treat our memories or how we remember things,” says Mercado. “Is it the same as what we remember? Is it something that we wanna leave behind, or is it just, like, a ruin?”

Two extinct malls are referenced in the “Our Empire” exhibit, though the second might be hard to decipher unless someone remembers a mystery flute man who used to frequent the Carousel Mall in San Bernardino, which was demolished in 2023 after closing in 2017. McClung painted the flutist after hearing him in an empty parking structure beside the shopping center.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

“I was driving around places in the [Inland] Empire that I wanted to capture. I would go out and take reference photos,” says McClung. “I park in a big parking structure at Carousel mall and I hear this flute. Come to find out he would go there weekly because of the acoustics in the area.”

A quick online search will prompt a flurry of Reddit and Facebook discussion about where the flute man — dubbed the mystical flute man by many — is located now. Besides some streamer vlogs in the area, no formal article or website has ever recognized the elderly man as an idol. His memory, as it exists in McClung’s painting, is reserved for those who share a unique collective experience.

Perhaps others in the area have stumbled upon the mysterious flute man themselves, or can recall the smell of monomer from a nail salon at the Redlands Mall. Or perhaps Inland Empire residents can recognize home from the towering Santa Fe smokestack.

“I want people to come and feel like they are part of this as well,” McClung says. “We have our own memory of what that space was for us, but other people have their own story, too.”

WASHINGTON — The U.S. Secret Service said Sunday it was investigating reports of overnight gunfire near Lafayette Park, which is across the street from the White House.

No injuries were reported and no suspect was found after a search of the park and the surrounding area after midnight, the agency said in an online post.

President Trump was spending the weekend at the White House, which had no immediate comment on the incident. White House operations remained as normal but security in the area was increased, according to the Secret Service.

The park has been fenced off for weeks of renovations.

The Secret Service said it was working with the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department and U.S. Park Police.

Legendary street artist and activist Shepard Fairey was omnipresent at the High Desert Art Fair, which unfolded in and around Pioneertown over two unseasonably hot days last weekend. Founded more than seven years ago by art dealer Nicholas Fahey and artist manager Candice Lawler, the event has morphed from a few dozen people in Lawler’s living room to a few thousand roaming the dusty, sunny environs of the kitschy Old West town, with ancillary events in Twentynine Palms and Joshua Tree.

Fairey, who bought a home in the area during the COVID-19 pandemic, DJ’d a spirited opening night party at the Red Dog Saloon — spinning punk, post-punk and new wave hits by Joy Division, Fugazi and Black Flag to a packed house of art fans wearing paint-splattered DIY couture — and he spoke during the weekend’s most anticipated panel alongside Devo frontman and gallery owner Mark Mothersbaugh in a conversation moderated by singer-songwriter Harper Simon, son of folk icon Paul Simon.

Artist Shepard Fairey DJ’d the opening night party of High Desert Art Fair at the Red Dog Saloon in Pioneertown. The set was heavy of punk, post-punk and new wave.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Fairey was forthcoming about his opinions on art, politics and technology, drawing applause at one point for saying that using AI in art is not something to be afraid of. His assessment came after he lamented the fact that social media algorithms punish “decency” and reward “flamboyant narcissism and controversy.” He then joked that the “algorithm’s gonna love this. S— is gonna go nuts,” before talking about his recent collaboration with the digital artist known as Beeple who’s notorious in the art world for selling an NFT of his art in 2021 for $69.3 million.

The Red Dog Saloon was packed with art and music fans during the Friday night opening party of the High Desert Art Fair, which drew thousands of people to Pioneertown during the last weekend in March.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

“He’s either the vanguard of a new way of working, and a maverick, a trailblazer, or he’s the worst thing that’s happened to art ever, or in between, or both, or neither,” Fairey said as the crowd laughed. “That’s totally my opinion.”

During a late-March event held in Fairey’s hometown of Charleston, S.C., Beeple Studios presented “Shepard Fairey: Obey and Resist,” which leveraged AI to help guests create their own Fairey-inspired paintings. During the panel, Fairey called the results “almost idiot-proof.”

He then elaborated on his feelings about AI’s encroachment on the art world, saying that if he were part of the “traditional art world thinking” he wouldn’t dare “go over to the dark side of digital art and AI, because that’s cheating.”

“All those same people a few hundred years ago when Da Vinci was using the camera obscura were like, ‘Get your proportions right, just by eye. Don’t use a cheating tool,’” Fairey said before taking the analogy to cave paintings and noting that those same types of naysayers would’ve been unhappy when it was discovered that horse hairs at the end of a stick were useful for distributing pigment and might have said, “That’s not keeping it real, bro. Use bloody elbow like everyone else.”

Fairey called that type of thinking “idiotic.”

“A tool in service of someone with a genuine vision that bends the tool to their will, rather than having themselves bent to the tool — that’s what creativity is about,” Fairey said.

The conversation about AI art started when Mothersbaugh, who was headlining a music set at Pappy & Harriet’s later that night, admitted that he was “fooling around with AI” and “just making myself laugh, like mutating old Devo photos and videos. It cracks me up. … I don’t know what is ever going to happen with it. Maybe they’ll just always live on my phone and eventually get thrown away or lost or something.”

The stage is set for an experimental music show by the General, featuring the stylings of Devo frontman Mark Mothersbaugh.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

It’s a rock ‘n’ roll art fair

The idea that AI won’t cannibalize artists and their work on a massive scale is refreshingly utopian, but in many ways so was the fair itself. It takes magical thinking to grow anything in the harsh desert environment, which is why artists have been making the trek for decades. There was a youthful, rock ‘n’ roll vibe to the proceedings that was punk in quality but earnest in its quest to be seen.

Mothersbaugh’s gallery, MutMuz, occupied one of 20 rooms reconfigured as show spaces at the Pioneertown Motel, as did Gross!, a Chinatown gallery founded by former Liars drummer Julian Gross and populated with the work of musicians such as Karen O, O’s costume designer Christian Joy and TV on the Radio’s Tunde Adebimpe.

A work of painted fabric by Karen O‘s costume designer Christian Joy hangs in Gross! Gallery at the Pioneertown Motel during High Desert Art Fair. The gallery is owned by former Liars drummer Julian Gross who features plenty of work by fellow artists.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Desert pioneers are key to the spirit of the place

The fair featured tours of a number of the most interesting attractions in the area, including the Noah Purifoy Desert Art Museum of Assemblage Art in Joshua Tree and artist Andrea Zittel’s arts outpost and residency program, High Desert Test Sites.

Old computers are stacked at the center of an installation titled “Carousel” (1996) by Noah Purifoy at the Noah Purifoy Desert Art Museum of Assemblage Art in Joshua Tree.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Purifoy’s fantastical assemblages made of found objects and unloved detritus provided the most fitting example of the creative desert mindset. Outsider art in every sense of the word, and laden with scathing political and social commentary, Purifoy’s installations morph and change in the elements. A nonprofit exists to preserve them, but tour guide Teri Rommelmann said preservation efforts aren’t meant to alter the course of nature and time, but rather to save the work from sinking into the sand.

Noah Purifoy’s 2001 installation “White/Colored” is the most frequently vandalized piece in the outdoor Joshua Tree museum dedicated to his work.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Another aspect of the preservation work is erasing vandalism, which happened most during the pandemic, and was quite telling in its main target: An installation featuring a water fountain marked “White” next to a toilet affixed with a water fountain mouthpiece and labeled “Colored.”

Noah Purifoy’s sculpture “Ode to Frank Gehry” (2000) stands in the sand as part of the Noah Purifoy Desert Art Museum of Assemblage Art. The piece was once featured in a show at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and transporting it can be quite tricky.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

At High Desert Test Sites, Zittel’s famous A-Z West escape pods are no longer used for camping after the city said the nonprofit would have to attain a commercial camping permit to continue. Nonetheless, the organization’s 80 acres are home to a variety of artist residencies, which use the windswept isolation of the desert to activate dormant ideas. It was just announced that environmental artist Lita Albuquerque will have a residency at the site.

Andrea Zittel’s famous A-Z West escape pods at High Desert Test Sites can no longer be used for camping, but they still dot the nonprofit’s 80 acres of land as an example of the creativity that the desert environment unleashes.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

The tiled kitchen that artist Andrea Zittel designed for the main residence at High Desert Test Sites, which she lived in for nearly 20 years and can now be rented by artists in residence.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Art is everywhere in the desert — and growing

The success of this year’s High Desert Art Fair bodes well for the future of the area as a cultural destination.

Next year will see the return of Desert X, which for the first time will keep its large-scale, site-specific installations up for six months, timed to coincide with other SoCal cultural happenings including the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival and Frieze. There are also semi-permanent art installations everywhere in the area, including along driveways and the roadside. This includes a hair salon and museum in Joshua Tree, and the recently opened Reset Hotel in Twentynine Palms features dozens of rooms in retrofitted shipping containers, some with outdoor bathtubs and firepits. The hotel has also carved desert trails in its backyard, with plans to build an art park filled with installations.

The shipping container rooms at the new Reset Hotel in Twentynine Palms feature outdoor living spaces with firepits and bathtubs. Some overlook trails that will lead to a planned art park on the property.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

An influx of artists, collectors and art fans will surely have an impact on an area that is already wary of gentrification and the rising cost of living that accompanies it. But there will be no stopping progress, only a utopian, Fairey-like hope that those who come will be inspired to keep and nurture the magical qualities of the place.

• The shift to L.A. Live will place the ceremony within a larger, campus-style complex, allowing the red carpet, show, press operations and post-show events to be staged in a more centralized footprint with increased capacity.

• The move will coincide with the Oscars’ shift to YouTube, part of a broader reset for the ceremony as it looks to expand its global reach after years of declining television viewership.

The Oscars are leaving Hollywood — or at least Hollywood Boulevard.

Beginning in 2029, the Academy Awards will move from the Dolby Theatre, their home for nearly a quarter century, to L.A. Live in downtown Los Angeles, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and AEG announced on Thursday. The ceremony will be held in the theater currently known as the Peacock Theater, which is expected to be renamed before the Oscars arrive as part of a new naming rights deal.

The new agreement runs through 2039. Discussions about the move have been underway for the last couple of years, according to people familiar with the planning who were not authorized to speak publicly.

The change in venue comes as the Oscars are also moving away from their traditional home on broadcast television. Earlier this year, the Academy announced that the ceremony will begin streaming live worldwide on YouTube in 2029, ending a five-decade run on ABC.

Since 2002, the show has been closely associated with Hollywood Boulevard, where the red carpet runs alongside the Walk of Fame and, for one night a year, the area becomes the symbolic center of the film industry. The Dolby Theatre sits at the corner of Hollywood and Highland, inside a retail and entertainment center near the TCL Chinese Theatre and the El Capitan.

L.A. Live offers a more centralized, campus-style setting, with venues and event spaces clustered together. The complex is adjacent to Crypto.com Arena and the Los Angeles Convention Center and is part of a larger sports and entertainment district developed and operated by AEG that regularly hosts concerts, sporting events and awards shows, including the Emmys and the Grammys. AEG has recently proposed adding a new hotel, residences and additional entertainment space to the complex, part of a longer-term expansion of the site.

In some ways, the move out of the Dolby is less a break than a return: The ceremony was staged for years in downtown L.A. at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and at the Shrine Auditorium before settling at the Dolby.

At the Oscars’ new home, the red carpet, ceremony, press operations and post-show events can all be staged within a compact footprint that includes the adjacent JW Marriott hotel and its ballroom. The theater itself is expected to undergo upgrades to its stage, sound and lighting systems, allowing it to be configured more specifically around the show. The move is also expected to increase capacity, a growing consideration as the academy’s ranks have expanded significantly in recent years, now numbering more than 11,000 members.

At the Dolby, space has long been tight. Each year, multiple blocks of Hollywood Boulevard are shut down for days at a time, rerouting traffic and turning the area into a heavily secured zone — conditions that were even more restrictive this year with security tightened further amid the war in Iran, including a one-mile police buffer around the theater.

The Academy had been looking for a venue that offered greater control over how the show is staged, including how the audience is arranged and how the room is used for both the broadcast and the live event. The new venue is expected to provide more room for press areas, green rooms and backstage operations, along with upgraded technical infrastructure for staging the ceremony.

Early design renderings released by the academy suggest that, for viewers at home, the Oscars may not look all that different. The stage retains the sweeping, curved proscenium that has defined the Dolby Theatre era, suggesting a similar visual approach at a larger scale, with expanded screen space and a more immersive ceiling design.

For both the academy and AEG, which owns and operates the complex, the appeal is in keeping everything in one place — arrivals, ceremony, the Governors Ball and afterparties — rather than spreading events across multiple locations. The setup also creates new opportunities for hospitality and sponsorship tied to the broader campus.

“L.A. Live was built to host the moments that define culture and there is no greater global stage than the Oscars,” said Todd Goldstein, AEG’s chief revenue officer. “Together, we will create an environment that celebrates creativity, honors excellence and delivers an unforgettable experience for movie fans everywhere.”

Taken together, the changes amount to a significant reset for the Oscars, which have seen their audience decline from more than 40 million viewers in the late 1990s to 17.9 million this year, down 9% from the previous year. Moving to YouTube offers a way to reach a broader, more global audience at a time when traditional television viewership has declined.

The Oscars will remain at the Dolby through the 100th ceremony in 2028 before making the transition the following year.

“For the 101st Oscars and beyond, the Academy looks forward to closely collaborating with AEG to make L.A. Live the perfect backdrop for our global celebration of cinema,” Academy Chief Executive Bill Kramer and President Lynette Howell Taylor said in a statement.

The US-Israeli war on Iran has destroyed over 80,000 civilian units leaving many causalities, according to Iranian officials. Al Jazeera’s Tohid Asadi reports from a residential building hit in a recent attack.

A blast occurred in an apartment above a restaurant in Gaza City, causing a blaze. Rescue teams headed to the site to put off the fires. The cause of the blast is suspected to be an Israeli drone attack, several people had died in the blast.

An acclaimed author and historian of the libertarian movement fell to his death last week, his employer confirmed.

The body of Brian Doherty, 57, senior editor of the libertarian magazine Reason, was found Thursday “after a fall” in the Battery Yates park portion of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the publication wrote.

The National Parks Service law enforcement agency confirmed it responded to an incident at Battery Yates on Thursday “involving a male visitor who reportedly fell from the cliffside into the water.”

“The individual was recovered and pronounced dead,” said Scott Carr, parks service spokesperson, in an email. “We do not have any further information to share at this time.”

The Golden Gate Bridge is seen from the Fort Baker Marina in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area in San Francisco. Doherty was found in the Battery Yates park portion of the recreation area.

(Los Angeles Times)

Doherty was the author of several books, with Reason saying his most notable work was the 2007 study “Radicals for Capitalism: A Freewheeling History of the Modern American Libertarian Movement.”

“Doherty has rescued libertarianism from its own obscurity,” the Wall Street Journal wrote of the work, “eloquently capturing the appeal of the ‘pure idea.’”

Libertarianism’s role in gun control and the courts was the subject of his works, and Doherty had no shortage of admirers.

Loren Dean, chair of the Libertarian Party of California, said it was Doherty’s work at Reason that brought him into the liberty movement.

“Brian Doherty was the best kind of libertarian: one who holds true to the principles of liberty as they are,” Dean said in an email. “He was a tireless champion of both gun rights and police reform who wrote books on both [former U.S. Rep.] Ron Paul and Burning Man; his work did not sit on either the ‘left’ or ‘right’ side of the authoritarian box, but delightfully outside that tired frame, where libertarian principles truly sing.”

Doherty began working at Reason in 1994, according to the publication’s obituary, left the company and returned in 2000 at the behest of Nick Gillespie, then editor-in-chief.

“What I liked most about Brian was his abiding interest in things happening on the margins of American culture, politics, and thought, and his deep appreciation for the prodigious bounty that markets deliver reliably and without moralizing,” Gillespie wrote in his farewell to Doherty, who had many opinion pieces published in The Times.

Far from just heady subjects, Doherty covered “both libertarian and whimsical” subcultures, according to the obituary, including New Hampshire’s Free State Project and the Seasteaders, a growing community of individuals dedicated to living on the seas.

The Seasteading Institute tweeted its condolences and noted the group had “appreciated his coverage of seasteading over the years.”

Doherty was a native of Queens, majored in journalism at the University of Florida and joined the college’s libertarian group in 1987, according to Reason’s obituary.

He moved to Los Angeles in the mid-1990s and joined a group known as the Cacophony Society, a gang who “inspired or created phenomenon ranging from the novel/movie Fight Club to urban exploration, billboard alteration, the Yes Men, flash mobs, and ‘Santa Rampages,’” according to the obituary.

One of those projects translated into the formation of the annual Burning Man festival, the obituary stated. Doherty later chronicled the famed artsy, hippie-like festival in his book “This Is Burning Man.”

“Libertarians talk a lot about freedom and responsibility. Brian embodied both,” Reason Editor-in-Chief Katherine Mangu-Ward said in his obituary. “His weird, colorful life — filled with comics and festivals and music and books — was a model of life lived freely and openly.”

ideo from northern Israel captured the moment an Iranian missile impacted in a residential area early Friday morning. The aftermath shows a fire and scattered debris next to damaged vehicles and buildings.

Jacob Ulibarri spent about six hours on New Year’s Day last year squashing hot spots where the Lachman fire had burned.

The rookie Los Angeles firefighter arrived sometime after 7 a.m., when the smoky areas were all over and easy to see. By the time the next crew swapped with his that afternoon, they were scarcer: “One every 30 minutes, roughly,” Ulibarri recalled.

At that point, Battalion Chief Martin Mullen, who was running the mop-up operation, had walked three laps around the perimeter of the fire. He recalled one hot spot he saw at about 10 a.m., which crews hit with water. Later in the afternoon, Mullen did his fourth and last loop and left the area for good.

He decided to leave the hoses out overnight, just in case.

Over the next two days, a series of communication failures and questionable decisions led crews to leave the area prematurely, with embers from the small Jan. 1 fire later reigniting into the devastating Palisades fire. A firefighter picking up hoses on Jan. 2 found crackling, red-hot coals in the dirt and warned colleagues that a more thorough mop-up was needed. Also that morning, a captain cautioned his chief that it was too soon to pick up the hoses. In yet another missed opportunity, crews apparently did not walk the entire perimeter of the burn scar after a caller reported smoke in the area on Jan. 3.

Because of the holiday, some were filling in for others outside of their normal assignments. Firefighters said they adhered to the LAFD’s strict chain of command and did not question higher-ups, while those in charge had fuzzy memories or shifted responsibility to others.

The revelations, contained in the sworn testimony of a dozen firefighters earlier this year as part of a lawsuit filed by Palisades fire victims, corroborate previous reporting by The Times and call into question the LAFD’s repeated claims that commanders left the fire “dead out.” More than a year later, with much of the Palisades still in ruins, LAFD leaders have refused to explain how or why the breakdowns occurred.

The LAFD employees mentioned in this story either could not be reached or declined to comment.

In a statement Monday, LAFD spokesperson Stephanie Bishop pointed to the alleged arsonist charged by federal prosecutors with deliberately setting the earlier fire. “The Lachman and Palisades Fire incidents would not be matters of discussion had this individual not allegedly initiated the original fire,” she said.

“It is important to allow the legal process to proceed without external influence or speculation. Offering running commentary on depositions outside of the courtroom risks compromising witness testimony, affecting the integrity of evidence review, and impacting ongoing judicial proceedings. We stand by the investigation conducted by the ATF,” Bishop added, referring to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

Around 6 a.m. on Jan. 2, 2025

At the end of his 24-hour overtime shift, Mullen handed the reins to Battalion Chief Mario Garcia, recommending that the incoming chief scope out the fire perimeter.

“I told him I left him hose lines in place overnight. You need to walk that and make sure there’s nothing going up on there,” said Mullen, whose regular job is managing the LAFD’s 106 fire stations and 30 or so other buildings.

Before Garcia set foot on the burn scar, he put word out to station captains about the plan for the morning: Pick up hoses.

At Fire Station 19 in Brentwood, Capt. Alexander Gonzalez got a text from the chief’s aide, directing him to bring a “plug buggy” — a pickup truck used to carry equipment — “to help pick up hose.”

The plan reached Capt. David Sander at Fire Station 23 in the Palisades and Capt. Michael McIndoe at Fire Station 69.

McIndoe had reservations.

He told the chief’s aide that he thought the hoses should stay out longer. He had seen the forecast that day — a National Weather Service alert had warned of weather conducive to wildfires — and handling any lingering hot spots would be easier with hoses in place. The aide told him to take it up with the chief.

So McIndoe shared his concerns with Garcia over the phone.

Garcia “said something along the lines of, ‘OK. Let me go check it out, and then I’ll get back to you,’” McIndoe testified.

But the orders for the morning never changed.

8:30 a.m. on Jan. 2, 2025

After a briefing at Fire Station 23, Scott Pike and his partner took their ambulance to a cul-de-sac near the burn area. They spotted some hose dangling over a retaining wall covered in ivy.

An engine crew threw a 20-foot ladder to get over the wall. Soon, Pike said, they got another call and left.

“We were kind of making jokes, like, ‘It’s on us,’’’ recalled Pike, a firefighter normally assigned to a station in Sunland.

He grabbed his brush jacket, helmet and gloves and climbed over. He decided to hike to the end of the hose line — he was feeling good and thought he’d get a workout in.

Pike followed the main line — called the trunk line — which had hoses branching off in other directions. About 100 feet in, he saw where grass had burned. He navigated through culverts and climbed a steep hill of about 300 feet before hitting a hiking trail.

When he got to the end of the line, at about 8:45 a.m., he noticed a handful of smoky areas in heavier brush, and a hand line that wasn’t cut properly.

One ash pit was so hot he didn’t want to touch it, even with gloves. So he kicked it with his boot, exposing red-hot coals. He heard crackling and smelled smoke. He looked around, and there were no other firefighters.

We shouldn’t be picking up hoses, he thought to himself. Instead, we should be filling the hoses with water to do a more thorough mop-up.

He pinched the hose, directing any residual water to the ash pit. It steamed and crackled. He felt defeated when he only got a couple of gallons out, which wasn’t enough.

He slowed down, in case the pickup plan were to change because of his observations, and was relieved when more crews began hiking over.

“Hey, guys, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Pike told a couple of firefighters. He was working an overtime shift away from his usual fire station, so he didn’t know them. “Like, maybe we should be charging these lines instead of picking them up.”

Since they were already there, he figured, some extra mop-up could save them work down the line if the fire were to reignite.

The firefighters shrugged him off and seemed eager to finish the assignment.

“They were like, ‘Yeah, I see what you’re saying,’ And then it was like, ‘We’ll tell one of the skippers. We’ll tell one of the captains.’ But, like, in the meantime, people were just very much like, just get the hose picked up,” Pike testified.

Shortly after, he saw a captain and raised the same concerns.

“That’s how I approached him, is like, ‘Hey, Cap … We have hot spots in general. We have some ash pits,’” Pike said. “That’s an alert to double-check the whole area and maybe we need to switch our tactics.”

Pike testified that it was not his job “to overstep and tell him what to do. He earned that rank.”

The captain suggested possibly bringing hand tools or a backpack filled with water up the hill to extinguish any hot spots.

Pike went back to picking up the hose while awaiting new orders, which never came.

The LAFD has declined to say whether the captain has been identified. Pike believed the captain was from Engine 69, which would have been McIndoe. But McIndoe told The Times he did not speak with Pike that day.

McIndoe said he also came across a smoldering ash pit during the couple of hours he was on the hill.

He retrieved a backpack with water from his engine, sprayed into the ground with a couple of gallons of water and dug up the dirt with his hand tool until he was satisfied it was cool.

At one point, he saw Garcia, the battalion chief, and brought up their earlier conversation.

“I just went up to him, and I said, ‘Hey, I hope you don’t think I’m just trying to get out of work,’” McIndoe said. “And he said, ‘No, that’s — that’s fine.’ Something along those lines, and that that’s all I can really recall.”

He said he was trying to tell Garcia that he believed “that the hose should stay up a little bit longer.”

By the time Gonzalez, who was backfilling that day at the Brentwood station, got to the scene, the operation was well underway, with half the hose already down the hillside.

“When I got there, it was just, it’s like a big daisy chain of hands pulling hose off and getting it down to the street. And rolling it, hosing it off and loading it into the plug buggy,” he testified.

He did not see smoldering that day. He testified that he went about 200 to 300 feet up, to where piles of hose were being dropped. “The next person brings it back down and that was it,” he said.

Some firefighters on hose pickup duty that day have not been deposed in the lawsuit. Aside from McIndoe and Pike, the four other firefighters who testified that they were at the burn scar on Jan. 2 said they did not see smoldering.

Garcia testified that at the burn scar, no one raised any concerns with him about the hose pickup. Nor did he see any need to leave the hoses at the site.

At 1:35 p.m. on Jan. 2, Garcia texted two higher-ups: “All hose and equipment has been picked up.”

Around 4:30 p.m., Garcia walked the area again with his aide to see if they had left any equipment behind. He saw no issues.

“We both walked the whole area,” Garcia said. “We went separate directions, but covered the whole area, and there was nothing that would bring any concern.”

11:51 a.m. on Jan. 3, 2025

Shortly before noon, someone called the LAFD about a grass fire in the burn area.

Engineer Edward Rincon, who had been on Engine 23 retrieving hoses the day before, pulled up to the same cul-de-sac. Once again, his crew threw the 20-foot ladder over the retaining wall. As on the previous day, he never entered the burn scar. He stayed with the engine while the captain and two firefighters went to scope out the area. He set the volume high on his radio to hear if they needed anything.

On the other side of the wall, Capt. Cesar Garcia walked for what he said was more than a couple of football fields, while the two firefighters went to different peaks to look around for smoke or fire.

“Everything is completely burned. I don’t smell anything. I don’t see any smoke. I don’t see any fire,” he testified.

He canceled another engine that was assigned to the call.

Firefighter Michael Contreras said he also didn’t see smoke. He said he could not see the entirety of the burn scar from his vantage point. He also said he did not suggest to his captain, Cesar Garcia, that they walk the whole perimeter.

“Is there a reason you did not?” a plaintiffs’ attorney asked.

“Again, would not be my lane to tell him that, you know,” he said.

Battalion Chief Mario Garcia was on duty again that day. Like Rincon, he stayed with his vehicle. Cesar Garcia said the chief pulled up a live feed on an iPad from two cameras on the mountain, which showed no smoke or fire.

An incident report shows they spent about 34 minutes on the call.

On the morning of Jan. 7, LAFD records show, a captain on duty in the Palisades called Fire Station 23 and told colleagues: The Lachman fire had started up again.