decade

Susan Saint James, the TV star who shared the screen with Rock Hudson as his on-screen wife in “McMillan & Wife” and co-led the heartfelt, blended family comedy “Kate & Allie” with Jane Curtin, has died.

The Los Angeles native died Monday after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, according to People, which first reported the actor’s death. She was 80.

Saint James’ family remembered the actor for her warm personality and kindness, writing in a statement shared with the magazine, “Every person she met became the most important person in the room at that moment, from a fellow board member to the clerk at the shoe store, who usually walked away knowing her entire life story.”

Her acting career spanned almost six decades — she broke out as Peggy Maxwell in NBC series “The Name of the Game” — from the mid-1960s to the 2020s across TV and film, but audiences know the actor best for starring as Hudson’s detective wife in “McMillan & Wife.” The NBC series, which aired from 1971 to 1977, centered on San Francisco police commissioner Stuart “Mac” McMillan and wife Sally McMillan as they solve a variety of crimes. Saint James earned four Emmy nominations for her work.

She pivoted to film and TV movies after the series ended, garnering roles in “Love at First Bite,” “The Kid from Nowhere,” and “Don’t Cry, It’s Only Thunder.”

After nearly a decade away from the TV series scene, Saint James returned in CBS’ unconventional sitcom, “Kate & Allie.” She starred as Kate McArdle, one of the series’ titular divorcées who decide to raise their children under the same roof. Saint James’ Kate was the modern and no-nonsense counterpart to Curtin’s old-fashioned, sweet Allie. The series aired from 1984 to 1989 and earned Saint James two additional Emmy nominations.

When the stars and creative team of “Kate & Allie” reunited amid the COVID-19 pandemic in 2021, Saint James reflected on how the show was representative of a same-sex household and how mothers raising their own children related to the show’s material. She and her co-stars also said they knew at the time that the series was something special.

“It wasn’t like we went back and said, ‘You don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone.’ It was just fun,” she said.

Saint James mostly stayed away from Hollywood in the decades following “Kate & Allie,” save for brief appearances in series including “Law & Order: SVU,” “Suits” and “Upload.” She notably found herself in the spotlight again in the early 2000s, but for family tragedy.

Her son Edward “Teddy” Ebersol died at age 14 in a 2004 Colorado plane crash that also claimed the lives of two other people. Teddy Ebersol, whom Saint James shared with husband and former NBC Sports Chairman Dick Ebersol, was aboard a chartered Canadair CL-601 Challenger jet with his father and older brother, Charles, on Nov. 28, 2004, when it crashed during takeoff in light snow and freezing temperatures from the airport near Montrose, Colo. The pilot and a flight attendant were also killed in the crash. Dick and Charlie sustained injuries in the crash, and a copilot was critically injured.

“Here’s the bad part … I’ve never touched his clothes, I’ve never been able to move his things,” Saint James told Oprah in a 2006 interview. She continued to speak publicly about her grief in the following years.

“The thing that could move me on was that I could embrace Teddy finally in a way that was, ‘he’s my kid,’” she said during a 2009 panel on grief. “They can take his body, but I own that boy and I love that boy.”

Beyond her screen work and family tragedy, Saint James was also known for her longtime advocacy in the sports world. Saint James supported the mission of the Special Olympics since an early iteration of the games in California in 1972. The first Special Olympics was held in Chicago in 1968.

In a statement published Tuesday, Special Olympics said Saint James “believed deeply in the power of inclusion” and she served as a board member and a campaign co-chair for Special Olympics Connecticut. Her advocacy included founding the annual Susan Saint James poker tournament fundraiser. The organization’s Susan Saint James Leadership Award honors individuals who “embody her remarkable spirit of leadership, generosity, and dedication to our mission,” the post said.

“Thank you, Susan, for being an extraordinary champion of our athletes,” Special Olympics added in its statement. “Your legacy will live on through the lives you touched and the inclusive future you helped build.”

The actor, born Aug. 14, 1946 and raised in Rockford, Ill., received her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2008 and partially attributed her success in the industry to her connection with Special Olympics. Former California first lady Maria Shriver, daughter of Special Olympics founder Eunice Kennedy Shriver, attended the ceremony.

During that ceremony, Saint James said she managed to achieve her dream of becoming a Hollywood movie star “through the good works of a lot of wonderful people that created a loving and home-like environment for me all those years.”

“But the thing that really contributed to my success and happiness with my career was coupling it up with the work that I did with the Special Olympics,” she said, adding, “you can guess that being associated with them turned out to be getting to know some pretty amazing people since I’m now really cozy with the first lady of the state of California.”

Saint James was married three times, first to scriptwriter Richard Neubert from 1967 to 1968, according to People. She remarried in 1971 to makeup artist-turned manager Thomas Lucas. They share two children — daughter Sunshine and son Harmony — and divorced in 1977.

Saint James remarried to then-NBC executive Dick Ebersol after they met in 1981 when she hosted “Saturday Night Live.” They welcomed children Charles, William and Edward (Teddy.)

The Hotel Clark has been throwing its stately shadow across Hill Street since 1914, first as a fancy lodging in the formative years of downtown Los Angeles, then as a last-resort residential hotel for the aged and desperate, then as a vast, lifeless structure between Grand Central Market and Pershing Square (now Biddy Mason Park). The 11-story hotel hadn’t seen a paying guest for more than 30 years.

That is, until now.

Last month, downtown historian Nathan Marsak was at Angels Flight when, as he recalls, “A guy comes up and says, ‘You like the Clark? I just had drinks there.’ And he slaps his receipt down. And I lost my damn mind.”

The lobby inside Hotel Clark.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

Marsak, who admits to “a fetish for old, lost Los Angeles,” once called the Beaux-Arts hotel a “great gray monument to grinding attrition.” Since the 1990s, Marsak has kept watch on the Clark, often labeled a “zombie building” because of its long idleness. Marsak included it in his 2002 book “Los Angeles Neon,” and has looked down upon it from his part-time gig taking tickets atop the Angels Flight Railway on Bunker Hill.

In the downtown community, there had been rumors of a reopening over the years, but that seemed less likely as time went on. Kim Cooper, a close observer of downtown politics and co-owner of Esotouric tours, said that after a while, it seemed that the hotel’s owner, the Chetrit Group, “just locked the door.”

To see that structure “so dilapidated and dirty and covered in bird droppings and decades of grime, it broke my heart,” Marsak said. Still, “as long as they didn’t tear it down, there was always hope.”

A ‘zombie building’ awakes

When he and relatives bought the hotel 27 years ago, owner Michel Attias of the Chetrit Group said people assumed they would flip the building.

“I guess they know by now that’s not the case,” he said. “Many of those people have left town by now.”

Michel Attias at the Hotel Clark.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

Attias stood in the hotel lobby, whose design leans toward gray, black, white, earth tones and chrome. Guest rooms include zebra-print wallpaper and faux alligator-skin panels.

“We wanted chic modern but also comfortable and warm,” said Attias, noting that new artworks and rugs are still arriving. A “luxury sports bar” is due to open by Super Bowl Sunday. As of Oct. 21, general manager Adrienne Craig said, about 120 of its guest rooms were ready to rent, with others soon to follow. Rates start at about $200 nightly.

There have been at least three near-openings during his firm’s ownership, Attias acknowledged. But now, he said, it’s the right moment.

“We have a lot coming,” he said. “We have the Olympics. Downtown is starting to move again. I’m very, very confident that downtown is going to get back on its feet.”

Members of the Chetrit family, based in New York, hold extensive real estate through multiple companies, some of which have suffered legal and financial troubles in the last two years. In Los Angeles, the Chetrit Group also owns the long-idle Trinity Auditorium, also known as the Embassy Auditorium and Embassy Hotel. Also a 1914 Beaux-Arts building, it includes about 180 guest rooms along with an 1,800-seat performance space. Attias said he hopes to open the Trinity Auditorium before the Olympics.

“We’re not done,” Attias said.

Added Craig: “Hotel Clark is amazing. Trinity is out of this world.”

Vintage postcards and photographs are from the collection of historian Nathan Marsak.

(Courtesy of Nathan Marsak)

The Clark’s rise, fall and long slumber

Look closely at the Clark, including the rooftop neon and the old fire escapes with the initials “CH” in ironwork (for Clark Hotel), and you may catch hints of its tangled history, from early opulence to urban decay, international intrigue and municipal dysfunction.

Eli P. Clark made big money as a railway pioneer in Los Angeles and beyond. But by 1914 he had moved on to other investments. He built the Clark Hotel with 555 rooms, each with a private bath (a notable luxury at the time) and a bold sign outside proclaiming its “absolutely fireproof” construction.

The building’s rooftop neon signage was apparently added a few decades later, along with the rounded letters that spell the hotel’s name and run vertically down one corner of the building. Dozens of vintage photos of the Clark’s ballrooms, restaurants, ashtrays, room keys, menus, postcards, matchbooks, coat hangers and candleholders are visible at BunkerHillLos Angeles.com, having been gathered by Marsak.

A mosaic by the pool inside Hotel Clark.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

But somewhere in the middle decades of the 20th century, as investors began to look away from downtown, the Clark hit the skids. In a 1975 classified ad in the L.A. Times, the Clark offered rooms at $75-$95 monthly, including “special waterbed suites.”

By the 1980s, the Clark had become a residence of last resort, housing many seniors and others on limited incomes. The nearby Rosslyn (built in 1914, now a mix of low-income and market-rate apartments) and Hotel Cecil (built 1924, now low-income and supportive housing) followed similar paths.

The pool inside Hotel Clark.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

By 1989, the Clark had been acquired by May Wah International Enterprises, which was rooted in China and associated with the Chinese government, Attias said. May Wah vowed to revamp the building with a “friendship store” to market Chinese imports and hotel above that might rival the Biltmore. But first May Wah wanted the old tenants out. Twenty of them filed suit against May Wah, saying they were subjected to spells without heat or water, and won a $1.7-million settlement. But by 1992, May Wah had succeeded in evicting the last two tenants.

By 1999, when May Wah sold it to the Chetrit family, the building was empty, its historic interiors rearranged in anticipation of the Chinese hotel that never opened. (During this period, Attias said, the building’s guest-room count changed from 555 to 348.) As Attias tells the story, the hotel was close to opening in 2008 when that year’s financial crisis hit. It came close again in 2013-14, when the Chetrit family invested in another renovation but ran into opposition from the hospitality workers union Unite Here Local 11 and L.A. City Councilman José Huizar.

“José Huizar,” said Attias dryly. “We know where he is now.” (Huizar, who served on the city council until 2020, pleaded guilty to corruption charges in 2023 and was sentenced to 13 years in federal prison.)

Though the hotel’s owners eventually got the city permissions they needed, Attias said, a partnership with other hoteliers dissolved and the Clark went to the back burner again, as did the Embassy Auditorium. Another near-opening followed in 2019.

Attias said the family decided in 2025 to finally open the Clark, later retaining OTH Hotels Resorts to manage it.

And now, said Attias, “we’re here.”

‘Nowhere to go but up’

In mid-September, the Clark had begun a quiet, soft reopening. Now configured with 348 guest rooms, it includes a Mediterranean restaurant called Votana; a cocktail lounge; a 17-by-29-foot courtyard pool, poolside bar and (in homage to Chetrit family history) a pair of Moroccan tile fountains.

In addition, a ballroom with space for 600 is due to be completed soon. Craig estimated that the business, a nonunion shop, employs about 100 people now and will likely reach 200 workers in coming months.

A guest room inside Hotel Clark.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

This rebirth may not comfort those seeking more affordable housing downtown, but for anyone eager to see more legal commerce on Hill Street or more hotel rooms in the run-up to the 2028 Games, it’s progress. This boost in room supply may also encourage travelers who have seen downtown hotel rates jump by more than 10% in the last year. Analytics company CoStar reports that downtown hotels averaged $200-$210 per night from June through September.

“There’s nowhere to go but up,” Craig said. “The possibilities here are endless.”

A few weeks ago, Craig’s team gave Marsak a tour of building (and bought a batch of Angels Flight tickets to distribute among guests. The historian declared himself mostly delighted.

“Having the Clark open, facing Hill Street — which can get rough — is so brave of them,” said Marsak. “I can’t applaud it enough.”

As for the inside and that zebra-print wallpaper, it’s “not what I would have done,” he said. “I believe that Beaux-Arts buildings should be Beaux-Arts inside and out. But you can’t have everything.”

One of Hollywood’s legendary music recording studios is for sale as its owner prepares to end his half-century run immortalizing many of the biggest acts.

The list of household names who have recorded at Conway Recording Studios spans generations and genres. Burt Bacharach, Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Wonder, U2, Guns N’ Roses, Daft Punk, Taylor Swift and Kendrick Lamar are just a few of the artists who have recorded there.

While many studios have struggled, the unique space has attracted big names for decades.

Digital production tools and home studios have eliminated much of the need for traditional recording space, allowing artists to produce professional-quality music almost anywhere, real estate data provider CoStar said.

The digital revolution rocked the analog world of art, media and communication on a scale the industrial revolution did to agrarian and handicraft economies more than a century ago. The advent of Pro Tools recording software in the 1990s and the rise of music streaming services in the early aughts irrevocably changed the business.

Yet industry veterans say surviving facilities with expansive live rooms, vintage gear and decades of recording history may be becoming more valuable as they become harder to replicate. U.S. recorded-music revenue rose 7% to $6 billion in the first half of 2026, according to the Recording Industry Assn. of America. Streaming, physical formats and licensing all posted gains.

Conway Recording Studios is a jungly hideaway on bustling Melrose Avenue created by a transplant from chilly Buffalo, N.Y., who arrived in the 1970s with a vision to create an L.A.-style oasis in the middle of the city where he could pursue his craft as a sound engineer.

“I moved to California to be outside in the warm,” Buddy Brundo said. “I like sunlight.”

He defied recording studio conventions by bringing in natural light through large, soundproof windows instead of working in chambers sealed on all sides.

“You kind of feel like you’re in Hawaii or somewhere else,” at Conway studios, said entertainment real estate broker Nicole Mihalka of CBRE. “That’s what’s kept Conway so busy over the years.”

Among the musicians who came to work there lately was Korean pop group BTS, the subject of a Netflix documentary released in March that followed the young men as they recorded their comeback album “Arirang” after completing their military service.

Brundo appears in the film.

1

2

1. “You kind of feel like you’re in Hawaii or somewhere else,” a real estate broker said of the studios. “That’s what’s kept Conway so busy over the years.” 2. Conway’s clients have included Justin Timberlake, Kendrick Lamar, U2 and Counting Crows. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Taylor Swift is a regular and once created a run on company merchandise by wearing a Conway Recording Studios sweatshirt in public.

People have asked Brundo for years when he might sell the studio he has operated since 1976, said Mihalka, who has the listing.

“Ten years ago I wouldn’t even think about this,” Brundo said. Now, “I’m 83, and how long can I keep this up? It’s best to walk away while I still can.”

He works out three times a week and appears fit, jumping up to play air guitar to Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” while showing off the powerful sound system in Studio B. The band recorded the hit 1987 album of the same name at Conway Studios, where members arrived by motorcycle.

Brundo is asking $15 million for the property that spans more than an acre on the edge of Melrose Hill, a niche neighborhood at Melrose and Western avenues known for its trendy restaurants.

It includes three studios, offices, tons of recording equipment, including two grand pianos, lounges, and a kitchen that pointedly lacks a stove.

“Every studio I worked with had a stove, and the kitchen was a mess,” Brundo said.

“Ten years ago I wouldn’t even think about this,” Conway’s Buddy Brundo said. Now, “I’m 83, and how long can I keep this up? It’s best to walk away while I still can.”

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Not that he hasn’t gone out of his way to accommodate his clients. Years ago he shrank his own office to enlarge a lounge for a singer-songwriter who needed space to camp out.

“Courtney Love wanted to book a bunch of time,” but also wanted a place to unwind outside the studio. “We lived here for two months with the kids and the clothes.”

One of his studio innovations was an air-conditioning and filtration system that whooshes out smoke and neutralizes it with charcoal filters and blue lights that kill bacteria, because the official smoking policy is “whatever they want,” he said. On a recent afternoon, a strong scent of cannabis came from Studio A.

To create his rambling California oasis in the middle of a busy neighborhood, Brundo acquired house after house on the south side of his lot over the years so he could keep expanding. He bought and tore down 10 of them.

“Each house was a battle,” he said, particularly one where the owners had an issue with guitarist and outdoorsman Ted Nugent, who accidentally shot an arrow into their yard.

While the property could be used for other purposes, Buddy Brundo hopes to find a buyer who will keep the music going.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Brundo had set up a Styrofoam deer and a bear on the back of his property to entertain archer Nugent. The musician missed a shot and his arrow passed through the fence and came close to striking a neighbor in her backyard as her husband stood nearby.

“He was really pissed off,” Brundo said of his neighbor. It took Brundo another year to buy the neighbors’ house “because the price went up,” he said.

Today, the foliage a full-time groundskeeper tends has grown tall and thick. Sleek cats roam the grounds.

The parking lot is large for the studio’s size, and its 59 striped spaces have accommodated about $2 million worth of fancy cars at a time, Brundo estimated. It’s also big enough for basketball games, and Brundo recently painted a full court on the asphalt so singer The Weeknd could play ball during downtime.

While the property could be turned to other uses such as stores and housing, Brundo hopes to sell it to someone who will keep the music going even as times change.

The recent backlash against AI-generated music has prompted “a reversion back to the real” with bands using more instruments and needing more space to record, Mihalka said. “There are fewer studios now where you can actually do this.”

On the balcony of a pink dockside building in San Pedro, a neon sign reading “Saturday Morning Fish Market” glows in the darkness. There’s a quiet stillness in the harbor — the only sounds are of the occasional gull and car whirring by. That is, until 1 a.m. rolls around.

Doors open at 1:30 a.m. at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

This is when people begin to gather outside the roll-up door, some carrying backpacks ready to be filled.

At 1:30 a.m., a man in an orange apron lifts the door, releasing rays of white light onto the customers. They file inside, stepping onto the wet floor, eager to see the night’s beauties: freshly caught fish, filleted, deboned, washed and thrown onto thick mountains of crushed ice.

Shellfish, sardines, squid, mackerel and a market favorite, glowing salmon filets, sit on display. One employee pulls out crabs with a small net before letting a customer take their pick of the lot. Machines whir in an adjacent room, where fish are processed. Out back, sea lions bark, hoping for scraps.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

The Saturday Morning Fish Market, more formally known as J Deluca Fish Co., has existed for some time — owner John DeLuca claims a variation of the business began operating as early as the late ‘60s. As a child, DeLuca would greet his grandfather when he’d return to the San Pedro port with his catch, perhaps a fresh tuna or a bass to sell. For decades, the wholesale seafood distributor would open its market to the public just once a week — from 1:30 to 7:30 a.m. on Saturdays — usually seeing a smattering of mostly locals, the seafaring type, who might be shopping around after a late-night shift.

1

2

3

1. Harikrishnan Babuchandran holds up his fresh fish. 2. Customers can watch their fish be processed. 3. The fish that’s for sale changes from week to week. (Linnea Stephan / For The Times)

The Saturday Morning Fish Market in San Pedro has existed in some form since the late ‘60s but thanks to social media, flocks of new customers are wanting in on the late-night seafood-buying adventure.

Neither DeLuca nor his son and co-owner, Chris, could have predicted the San Pedro institution would experience the boom in popularity it’s seeing now, especially in an industry that’s struggled over the past two decades.

Thanks to social media, the market is witnessing an unprecedented revival. At its pre-pandemic peak, it would get around 800 to 1,000 customers on a typical Saturday morning. Nowadays, up to 2,000 people walk through the doors, according to Chris, many of whom are visiting for the first time.

Owners John and Chris DeLuca.

Regarding Instagram and TikTok, where posts giving a glimpse of the late-night fish market have gone viral, John, 73, says, “I know absolutely zero.”

To his credit, he does exhibit some understanding of its effect. And he’s glad for it. “People that live within walking distance never knew we existed. Now they do, and it’s got nothing to do with me,” he says, grinning.

What’s most notable is the number of young people roaming around the market well before the crack of dawn, Chris says. The business has changed a lot since his “father’s generation,” and social media unlocked access to a new audience.

“I think people like those hidden gems and people like that fresh seafood experience,” he says.

Between rows of sea bass and salmon, the energy is buzzing. Abdul Fahwami, dressed in jeans and flip-flops, visits the fish market at least once or twice a month, depending on how many people he‘s having over at his house that week.

“Every time we come here, we buy a minimum of between 100 and 200 pounds,” he says. “Red snapper is one of the best fish.”

Branzino is a favorite among customers and employees.

He smiles as he watches employees process his fish on a long table. First, blades run against the fish scales, removing them in quick fashion. Then, there’s a swift slice across its belly, starting at a hole near the tail and ending up near the gill plate. Finally, the guts are removed and filets are cut, skin optional.

Prices change week in and week out, and depend on supply. While prices are typically 10% to 40% less than at stores, market representative Joe Castelao says the team values the “quality of our products” over “trying to cater to bargain finders.” Another advantage for customers is the ability to buy seafood in bulk, which often isn’t possible at your standard, local grocer.

On this day, there wasn’t much branzino, the fish Fahwami came early to look for. “I found only 11 pieces,” he says. “I took all of it!”

Not far away, a man named Terry Jackson waits in line; he’s wearing black overalls and swaying side to side, eager to advance.

Customer Terry Jackson at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

“It’s definitely worth waking up a little late — or a little early, you could say,” he says. “The quality of the fish is good, plus the pricing.”

His fish of choice? “Tuna, my new favorite is tuna!” he says, proudly raising a plastic bag full of bright red filets.

Briskly pacing across the market floor are team members Mike and George Stahl, a father-son duo both wearing orange aprons and gloves.

Mike got into the seafood business about two decades ago. At the time, he lived in Florida and often purchased products from J Deluca Fish Co. By 2018, he’d moved his family out to California and started working at the market.

He says his favorite part is the variety of duties. “No two days are the same,” he says. “One day I could be selling a couple containers of squid, the next day I could be meeting face to face with someone at a conference on the other side of the country.”

Staff member George Stahl helps a patron.

He brought in his son George during the pandemic. As George explains, “We were bored and didn’t have anything to do at home so my dad said, ‘Why don’t you come down and put some boots on and start working?’”

George has become somewhat of a micro-celebrity around the market, frequently appearing in its Instagram posts. However, his time with the company might be temporary — he’s currently in school and plans to be a physical therapist at some point.

While the market is riding a wave of success, John doesn’t gloss over the grim outlook of the fishing and seafood industry as a whole. He says the industry has taken a hit over the years, between restrictions, overfishing and changing regulations.

“It’s a dying business,” John says, bleakly. “There’s very few seiners down here because it’s very difficult to make a living [fishing].

But for now, they’re able to survive. They watch as customers walk out of the market into the wee hours of the morning, proudly grasping their bags of the day’s freshest catch.

“A lot of things have gone the opposite direction,” John says. “But we’re still here.”

The fish market’s blue neon sign shines through the night.

London, United Kingdom – Nearly 200 people packed into Edami, a small Lebanese bakery in east London, to celebrate a decade of Lajee Celtic, a grassroots sports club based in a Palestinian refugee camp in the occupied West Bank.

What began as a football project has grown into an international symbol of solidarity.

In London, the room was filled with Palestinian flags, the aroma of Edami’s freshly baked manousheh, and Lajee Celtic shirts – which have been worn by celebrities, including football icon Eric Cantona and the actor Hannah Einbinder.

Martin, a Lajee Celtic organiser, travelled down from Glasgow for the celebration in September. He first visited Aida Camp, in the occupied West Bank, more than 10 years ago, a trip he described as life-changing.

“I don’t think anyone would really have expected that the project would have been as successful as it’s been,” said Martin, who requested to be identified by his first name. “But Celtic is a unique football club with its foundation, its Irish identity, the diaspora community, its universal support and then the values, which tie so much of that together.”

The relationship between Aida Camp, where Lajee is based, and Celtic supporters developed over years.

Mohammed al-Azzeh, director of the Lajee Centre, which provides services to the youth of the camp, remembers how it all began.

“We’d built up relationships with friends from Scotland and Ireland who had visited Palestine, and then in 2012, I travelled to Glasgow for the first time. We started to have conversations about creating a football academy,” he recalled.

By 2015, the idea was taking shape when a group of footballers from the camp travelled to Belfast to play a game.

Then came the 2016 Champions League draw. Celtic were paired with Israeli side Hapoel Be’er Sheva.

Supporters ignored warnings that displaying Palestinian flags could result in a fine. As the teams emerged, the stadium was transformed into a sea of Palestinian flags, an action led by Celtic ultras, the Green Brigade.

UEFA subsequently fined Celtic.

The Green Brigade responded by launching the Match The Fine For Palestine campaign. Not to pay the fine, but to support Palestinian organisations, including with the formation of a football academy in Aida Camp.

For al-Azzeh, it was a turning point.

“The support and solidarity shown in that game was really a pivotal moment,” he said. “And that’s what ultimately led to Lajee Celtic becoming what it is today.”

The team has brought together young Palestinians from villages around Bethlehem, refugee camps and communities in Hebron and Jerusalem.

“It means a lot, for us as Palestinians, to be in one place and meeting each other,” al-Azzeh said. “It becomes about more than just playing football.”

Lajee Celtic is competing in organised football for the first time. The club had been due to enter the Palestinian league three years ago, but the competition was cancelled when Israel’s genocidal war in Gaza began. Now, despite restrictions on movement between Palestinian cities and the wider disruption to football, the club has entered the Thousand Martyrs Cup, named after the 1,014 athletes killed in Gaza since October 2023.

Bassil Mikdadi, journalist and founder of Football Palestine, said that international reach has given Lajee Celtic a significance beyond the club itself.

“Lajee Celtic is a blueprint for ways in which fans of European clubs can directly support those on the ground in Palestine. It’s connective tissue,” he said.

For Martin, the popular shirts are more than merchandise.

“When people buy these shirts, they do so knowing that the money is funding football, sports and general youth development in Palestine. And then when the same people wear these shirts, whether they’re in Glasgow or London or New York, they’re each making their own individual solidarity action.”

Lajee Celtic created a link between clubs and communities inside Palestine and supporters and campaigners abroad.

“It has this kind of cross-cultural, cross-border solidarity,” he said.

That connection has become increasingly important as Palestinian football has struggled to continue since the genocide in Gaza.

For Mikdadi, the survival of grassroots clubs is essential: They are the groundwork for the national team.

“The success of the Palestinian national team in recent years … the base of that success has always been players provided by clubs in the West Bank and Gaza,” he said.

The club’s ambitions stretch beyond football. It has expanded into sports such as boxing and table tennis, while creating opportunities for young Palestinians across Palestine and the diaspora.

“Fundraising campaigns come and go all the time. But when you create a football club and when you have that sort of tangible idea at the heart of it, then you are creating a journey,” said Martin.

Mohammed al-Azzeh recalled a meaningful memory on a beach in Cape Town, South Africa, where the team played two friendlies in 2025.

Samir al-Amir, a coordinator with Lajee Celtic, had spent more than 19 years in Israeli prisons. When he travelled with the team to South Africa, it was the first time he had been able to leave the walls and checkpoints of the West Bank.

Al-Azzeh remembers watching him on the beach.

“He was acting like a young boy because it was the first time seeing the sea,” he said. “Without Lajee Celtic, I’m not sure Samir would have ever had that opportunity. That illustrates why the project is so important,” he said.

Paramount Skydance’s streaming chief Cindy Holland is exiting the studio, clearing the way for HBO Chairman Casey Bloys to claim a key role in the company once Paramount acquires Warner Bros. Discovery.

Holland announced her departure Tuesday in a memo to her staff. Her resignation is effective immediately.

She joined Paramount nearly 14 months ago as chairman of direct-to-consumer operations, in charge of Paramount+ and Pluto TV, after David Ellison’s Skydance Media took control of the media company long held by the Sumner Redstone family.

Holland, a respected former Netflix executive, was one of the few Paramount executives who lacked long ties to Ellison, who brought much of his Skydance team with him to Paramount.

Her resignation comes as Paramount is waiting for a federal judge to approve a settlement agreement that would allow Paramount to finalize its $111-billion purchase of Warner Bros. Discovery, which also includes CNN, TBS and the Warner Bros. film and television studios.

The agreement, unveiled last week, was designed to end a lawsuit brought by California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta and 11 other Democratic attorneys general, who had argued Hollywood’s biggest merger in decades violated U.S. antitrust laws.

“As David readies for the next phase of his vision, we’ve discussed my role and the future of the combined businesses,” Holland wrote in the memo shared with her staff viewed by the Times. “David is optimizing for HBO stability as we move into this next chapter, and I fully support that.”

Ellison, in recent months, has signaled his intention to install Bloys in a pivotal role at the combined company.

Ellison months ago made a public commitment to protect HBO, which has long been a leader in prestige TV programming. The network has already undergone two ownership changes, and considerable management turmoil, during the last decade. Bloys has led HBO as its chairman since late 2022. He was one of the first Warner executives that Ellison met with this year after Paramount prevailed over Netflix in the bidding war for Warner Bros. Discovery.

The New York Times first reported Holland’s departure.

“Cindy has been a trusted partner to me and so many others, and I couldn’t be more grateful for her leadership, her relentless drive and everything she’s done for our company,” Ellison said in a statement.