favorite

DEL MAR — Sometimes the toughest part of owning a horse is deciding what to name it. If you own a bunch of horses, you run out of logical names pretty quickly. You can only do a play on the sire’s name so many times. And if you name it after a living person, you need permission from that person.

But every once in a while happenstance is your guide.

Ned Toffey has been the general manager of Spendthrift Farm for 21 years. Spendthrift saw an Into Mischief colt it liked and bought the yet unnamed colt as a yearling for $650,000. Now the tough part, naming him.

Toffey had just completed an interview with a publication and it was trying to promote it on social media. The only problem is they got a couple of first letters transposed and sent out posted a message on X calling the longtime Spendthrift executive Ted Noffey. Innocent mistake. Once notified it was corrected but not before a few screenshots were taken.

John Velazquez smiles after riding Ted Noffey to victory in the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile horse race in Del Mar on Friday.

(Gregory Bull / Associated Press)

Noffey went with the joke.

Now people will remember that colt as the winner of the $2 million Breeders’ Cup Juvenile, pushing his name to the top of Kentucky Derby future pools.

His win wasn’t a surprise as he has won all four of his races, but none this prestigious on the first day of the two-day Breeders’ Cup held at Del Mar. All five of the races on Friday were worth no less than $1 million with nine more on Saturday.

Ted Noffey, the horse, was the favorite and was within a length of the lead all the way around the 1 1/16-mile race for 2-year-old males, winning by a length.

“It pretty much unfolded like we thought it would,” said trainer Todd Pletcher. “I’m just glad that he was able to keep finding more.”

Brant, the $3 million purchase for trainer Bob Baffert, went to the lead and was in front until the top of the stretch when Ted Noffey inched past and then kept going. He ended up winning by a length over Mr. A.P.

“I was happy with the trip, [Brant] just got tired,” Baffert said. “The lack of two turns caught up with him. He was beat by a real good horse, and they ran really fast. I think he will move up off this race.”

Brant finished third and Baffert’s other horse, Litmus Test, finished fourth. Ted Noffey was the favorite and paid $3.60 to win .

The other $2 million race, the Juvenile Fillies, was won by Super Corredora ($19.60 to win), whose last race was a maiden win, the only time this has happened in this race.

Southern California based John Sadler had to go 42 races before he won his first Breeders’ Cup race in 2018 when he won the Classic with Accelerate.

“My journey has been, there was a time when they’d say, he’s the best trainer that hasn’t won a Breeders’ Cup,” Sadler said. “They stopped asking that after Accelerate. So we’ve won quite a few of them now. So, I’m very pleased with that.

“And as you’re an older trainer, which I am at this point (he’s 69), these are the races you want to win. I think I hold most of the categories here at Del Mar, right behind Baffert—number of wins, number of stakes wins and money earned. The big days are especially rewarding.”

The 2-year-old filly led the entire 1 1/16 mile race and was the front half of a Southern California exacta with Baffert’s Explora finishing second. Hector Barrios was the jockey and it was his first Breeders’ Cup win with a three-quarters of a length victory.

The first race of the day, the $1 million Juvenile Turf Sprint, was won by Cy Fair ($12.00), a horse named after a high school in Texas and trained by George Weaver. Everyone gave Aidan O’Brien a good shot to win the five-furlong race since he had three horses in the race and his next win would give him 21, the most ever, breaking a tie with the late Wayne Lukas.

O’Brien had to wait for the last race of the day, the $1 million Juvenile Turf over one mile to pick up No. 21. Gstaad ($4.40) was the favorite and didn’t disappoint coming off the pace at the top of the stretch and winning by three-quarters of a length.

The other Breeders’ Cup race of the day, the $1 million Juvenile Fillies Turf, was won by Balantina ($43.20) by 1 ¼ lengths, the largest margin of the day. She came from well off the pace in the one mile race with a strong stretch drive for trainer Donnacha O’Brien, Aidan’s son.

The first day of the Breeders’ Cup is all 2-year-old races, but Saturday is where all the money is, $23 million in purses to be exact. It’s headed by the $7-million Classic, a 1¼ mile race for horses of any age or sex. The race, and the whole event, took a major blow when Sovereignty, the Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winner and top-ranked horse in the country, was scratched after he spiked a fever early in the week. He was the 6-5 morning line favorite.

Everyone was looking forward to the rematch of Sovereignty and Journalism (5-1 adjusted odds), who finished one-two in both the Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes. McCarthy, who trains Journalism and owner Aron Wellman replaced jockey Umberto Rispoli after they didn’t like his ride in the Pacific Classic. Jose Ortiz picked up the mount.

“I think it’s unfortunate that Sovereignty is not in there but this is probably one of the best Classics we’ve seen in about 20 years,” McCarthy said. “We’ll bounce out of there and try and be tactical and try to be within four or five lengths of the lead.”

There should also be some interest in Fierceness (5-2), who won the Pacific Classic after a terrible break when he ducked near the rail breaking from the one. He drew the one for this race too.

“He’s got to break straight and establish the position he wants and run his race,” trainer Todd Pletcher said. “His best race gives him a big chance, if he can deliver that.”

Among others in the race are Santa Anita-based Baeza (10-1), who won the Pennsylvania Derby; Japanese horse Forever Young (7-2), winner of the Saudi Cup; last year’s winner Sierra Leone (7-2); and Nevada Beach (20-1) for Baffert and winner of the Los Alamitos Derby and the Goodwood Stakes at Santa Anita.

Another race to watch on Saturday is the $5-million Turf in which Rebel’s Romance is trying to become the first three-time winner of this race and the third horse to ever win three Breeders’ Cup races, joining Goldikova and Beholder.

June Lockhart, the perennial TV mom who consoled her son Timmy and his faithful pet collie in “Lassie” and explained the unfolding galaxy to her children in the kitschy prime-time sci-fi show “Lost in Space,” has died.

Active in Hollywood well into her 90s, Lockhart died Thursday in Santa Monica of natural causes, with daughter June Elizabeth and granddaughter Christianna by her side, said her publicist, Harlan Boll.

She was 100.

Upbeat and bubbly, Lockhart happily accepted playing second-fiddle to children, animals and even a robot. In “Lassie,” she was most often seen teaching her son small life lessons extracted from his misadventures, often saved from peril by his faithful dog. In “Lost in Space,” she was a biochemist who seemed to spend most of her time prepping meals in the galley or tending to the children as the “Swiss Family Robinson”-like clan drifted randomly in space.

“Motherhood has been a pretty good dodge for me,” Lockhart told The Times, years after the shows went off the air. “I seem to have outlasted most of my colleagues because of it.”

Cast members of the TV show “Lost in Space” pose in costume in this 1965 publicity photo. Seated is Marta Kristen; standing, from left, is Mark Goddard, June Lockhart and Guy Williams.

(AP / CBS)

June Kathleen Lockhart was born on June 25, 1925, in New York City and grew up in a family steeped in the arts. Her father was a Broadway actor and her mother a singer. For years the family staged a seasonal production of “A Christmas Carol” in their home, inviting neighbors, friends and relatives to attend.

In 1938, the family went a step further and took their by now well-polished version of the Charles Dickens classic to film with a young Lockhart cast as Belinda Cratchit. The movie was all of one hour and nine minutes long.

Lockhart attended the Westlake School for Girls after the family moved to Los Angeles, where her father hoped to find a career as a film actor. But it was Lockhart who cracked Hollywood by landing modest but frequent roles on popular television shows such as “Wagon Train,” “Gunsmoke” and “Rawhide.”

In 1958, she was cast as Ruth Martin, the patient and good-natured mother on “Lassie,” a role that earned her an Emmy nomination. The show ran for 17 seasons, making it one of the longest-running prime-time shows on television. Lockhart left the series in 1964 to pursue other opportunities.

Lockhart realized the show had its limitations. “It was a fairy tale about people on a farm in which the dog solves all the problems in 22 minutes, just in time for the last commercial,” she told The Times.

The scripts were only slightly more challenging in “Lost in Space,” which followed the adventures of a family aboard a saucer-shaped spaceship headed to an Earth-like planet circling a faraway star. She left the show after three years and joined the cast of “Petticoat Junction” as a medical doctor who sets up practice in a worse-for-wear hotel in the middle of nowhere.

Earlier in life, Lockhart had been a regular on the news quiz show “Who Said That?” in which contestants were read a quote and asked to guess who said it. Lockhart had been absorbed by journalism and newsmakers since childhood, when she started a neighborhood newspaper. As an adult she subscribed to the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Los Angeles Times, reading them from beginning to end.

To prep for the show, she began cutting out quotes from the newspapers and memorizing them. One of the panelists on the show, a White House reporter for United Press International, was so impressed with Lockhart‘s grasp of politics that he invited her to a White House briefing.

Lockhart went on to become an unofficial member of the White House press corps, attending briefings, traveling with the Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy entourages during their presidential showdown and hitting the campaign trail with Ronald Reagan.

June Lockhart in 1965.

(CBS via Getty Images)

During her years as an informal White House correspondent, she was called on only once to ask a question during a presidential briefing, asking President George W. Bush for the name of the veterinarian who cared for the first family’s dog, Barney. Bush chuckled and said it was top secret.

Though she never had another prime-time role as big as in “Lassie” or “Lost in Space,” her career was remarkably long. She was the kindergarten teacher on “Full House,” James Caan’s mother on “Las Vegas,” a mother once again on “The Drew Carey Show” and a hospice worker on “Grey’s Anatomy.” For years she hosted coverage of the Rose Parade on CBS.

Her final credit arrived in 2018, when she voiced a radio communications officer in the “Lost in Space” reboot on Netflix. Twice married and divorced, Lockhart is survived by daughters June Elizabeth and Anne, as well as four grandchildren, said longtime family friend, Lyle Gregory.

The service will be private. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to the Actors Fund, ProPublica and International Hearing Dog Inc.

Times staff writer David Zahniser contributed to this report.

John Carpenter has this one recurring nightmare.

“I’m in a huge, massive town I don’t really know,” he says, “and I’m looking for the movie district. And inevitably all the theaters are closed down. They’re all closed down. That’s what the dream is.”

I’m visiting Carpenter at his longtime production house in Hollywood on one of L.A.’s unjustly sunny October afternoons. A vintage “Halloween” pinball machine and a life-size Nosferatu hover near his easy chair. I tell him I don’t think Freud would have too much trouble interpreting that particular dream.

“No, I know,” he says, laughing. “I don’t have too much trouble with that either.”

Nonetheless, it truly haunts him — “and it has haunted me over the years for many dreams in a row,” he continues. “I’m either with family or a group, and I go off to do something and I get completely lost. [Freud] wouldn’t have too much trouble figuring that out either. I mean, none of this is very mysterious.”

Carpenter is a gruff but approachable 77 these days, his career as a film director receding in the rearview. The last feature he made was 2010’s “The Ward.” His unofficial retirement was partly chosen, partly imposed by a capricious industry. The great movie poster artist Drew Struzan died two days before I visited — Carpenter says he never met Struzan but loved his work, especially his striking painting for the director’s icy 1982 creature movie “The Thing” — and I note how that whole enterprise of selling a movie with a piece of handmade art is a lost one.

“The whole movie business that I knew, that I grew up with, is gone,” he replies. “All gone.”

John Carpenter with John Mulaney, appearing as a part of “Everybody’s in L.A.” at the Sunset Gower Studios in May 2024.

(Adam Rose / Netflix)

It hasn’t, thankfully, made him want to escape from L.A. He still lives here with his wife, Sandy King, who runs the graphic novel imprint Storm King Comics, which Carpenter contributes to. He gamely appeared on John Mulaney’s “Everybody’s in L.A.” series on Netflix and, earlier this year, the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn. gave him a Career Achievement Award — a belated lovefest for a veteran who was sidelined after “The Thing” flopped, cast out into indie darkness and was never personally nominated for an Oscar.

The thing that does keep Carpenter busy these days (other than watching Warriors basketball and playing videogames) is the thing that might have an even bigger cultural footprint than his movies: his music. With his adult son Cody and godson, Daniel Davies, Carpenter is once again performing live concerts of his film scores and instrumental albums in a run at downtown’s Belasco this weekend and next.

The synthy, hypnotic scores that became his signature in films like “Halloween” and “Escape from New York” not only outnumber his output as a director — he’s scored movies for several other filmmakers and recently made a handshake deal in public to score Bong Joon Ho’s next feature — but their influence and popularity are much more evident in 2025 than the style of his image-making.

From “Stranger Things” to “F1,” Carpenter’s minimalist palette of retro electronica combined with the groove-based, trancelike ethos of his music (which now includes four “Lost Themes” records) is the coin of the realm so many modern artists are chasing.

Very few composers today are trying to sound like John Williams; many of them want to sound like John Carpenter. The Kentucky-raised skeptic with the long white hair doesn’t believe me when I express this.

“Well, see, I must be stupid,” he says, “because I don’t get it.”

“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Carpenter is quick to put himself down. He always says that he scored his own films because he was the only composer he could afford, and that he only used synths because they were cheap and he couldn’t properly write music for an orchestra. When I tell him that Daniel Wyman, the instrumentalist who helped program and execute the “Halloween” score in 1978, praised Carpenter’s innate knowledge of the “circle of fifths” and secondary dominants — bedrocks of Western musical theory that allowed Carpenter’s scores to keep the tension cooking — he huffs.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Carpenter says, halfway between self-deprecation and something more rascally. “It all comes, probably, from the years I spent in our front room with my father and listening to classical music. I’m sure I’m just digging this s— out.”

Whether by osmosis or genetics or possibly black magic, Carpenter clearly absorbed his powers from his father, Dr. Howard Carpenter, a classically trained violinist and composer. Classical music filled the childhood home in Bowling Green and for young John it was all about “Bach, Bach and Bach. He’s my favorite. I just can’t get enough of Johann there.”

It makes sense. Bach’s music has a circular spell quality and the pipe organ, resounding with reverb in gargantuan cathedrals, was the original synthesizer.

“He’s the Rock of Ages of music,” says Carpenter, who particularly loves the fugue nicknamed “St. Anne” and the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. “Everybody would go back to Mozart or Beethoven. They are astonishing — Beethoven is especially astonishing — but they’re not my style. I don’t feel it like I do with Bach. I immediately got him.”

Carpenter was also a film score freak since Day 1. He cites the early electronic music in 1956’s “Forbidden Planet” and claims Bernard Herrmann and Dimitri Tiomkin as his two all-time favorites. Just listen, he says, to the way Tiomkin’s music transitions from the westerny fanfare under the Winchester Pictures logo to the swirling, menacing orchestral storm that accompanies “The Thing From Another World” title card in that 1951 sci-fi picture that Carpenter remixed as “The Thing.”

“The music is so weird, I cannot follow it,” he says. “But I love it.”

Yet Carpenter feels more personally indebted to rock ‘n’ roll: the Beatles, the Stones, the Doors. He wanted to be a rock star ever since he grew his hair long and bought a guitar in high school. He sang and performed R&B and psychedelic rock for sororities on the Western Kentucky campus as well as on a tour of the U.S. Army bases in Germany. He formed the rock trio Coupe de Villes with his buddies at USC and they made an album and played wrap parties.

He also kept soaking up contemporary influences, listening to Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” while location scouting for “Halloween.” Peter Fonda later introduced Carpenter to Zevon and he wanted the director to adapt the song into a film that never happened (starring Fonda as the werewolf, but “this time he gets the girl,” Carpenter recalls). In the ’80s he blasted Metallica with his two boys and he still loves Devo.

It’s incredibly rare for a film director to score their own films, rarer still for one to spend decades on stage as a performing musician. The requisite personalities would seem diametrical.

“My dad was a performing musician, so it was just part of the family,” Carpenter says. However, until 2016, when Carpenter first toured with his music, he was consumed with stage fright. “I had an incident when I was in a play in high school,” he says. “I went up and I forgot my lines. Shame descended upon me and I had a tough time. I was scared all the time.”

The director credits his touring drummer, Scott Seiver, for helping him beat it.

“Your adrenaline carries you to another planet when that thing starts,” he sighs with pleasure. “You hear a wall of screaming people. It’s a big time.”

He pushes back against the idea that directors “hide behind the camera.”

“The pressure, that’s the biggest thing,” Carpenter says. “You put yourself under pressure from the studio, you’re carrying all this money, crew, you want to be on time.”

He remembers seeing some haggard making-of footage of himself in post-production on “Ghost of Mars” in 2001 and thinking: Oh my God, this guy is in trouble. “I had to stop,” he says. “I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t take this kind of stress — it’ll kill you, as it has so many other directors. The music came along and it’s from God. It’s a blessing.”

John Carpenter is grateful but he doesn’t believe in God. He believes that, when we die, “we just disperse — our energy disperses, and we return to what we were. We’re all stardust up there and the darkness created us, in a sense. So that’s what we have to make peace with. I point up to the infinite, the space between stars. But things stop when you die. Your heart stops, brain — everything stops. You get cold. Your energy dissipates and it just… ends. The End.”

This is not exactly a peaceful thought for him.

“I mean, I don’t want to die,” he adds. “I’m not looking forward to that. But what can you do? I can’t control it. But that’s what I believe and I’m alone in it. I can’t put that on anybody else. Everybody has their own beliefs, their own gods, their own afterlife.”

He describes himself as a “long-term optimist but a short-term pessimist.”

“I have hope,” he says, “put it that way.” Yet he looks around and sees a lot of evil.

“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter, who has long used cinematic allegories to skewer capitalist pigs and bloodthirsty governments. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men. You see pictures of lions taking down their prey and you see the face of the prey and you say: ‘Oh, man.’ Humans do things like that and enjoy it. Or they do things like that for power or pleasure. Humans are evil but they’re capable of massive good — and they’re capable of the greatest art form we have: music.”

The greatest?

“You don’t have to talk about it. You just sit and listen to it. It’s not my favorite,” he clarifies, alluding to his first love, cinema — “but it’s the one that transcends centuries.”

Music has always been kinder to him than the movie business. That business recently reared its ugly head when A24 tossed his completed score for “Death of a Unicorn.” (At least he owns the rights and will be putting it out sometime soon.) In addition to the high he gets from playing live, he is currently working on a heavy metal concept album complete with dialogue. It’s called “Cathedral” and he’ll be playing some of it at the Belasco.

It’s essentially a movie in music form, based on a dream Carpenter had. Though not one he finds scary. What scares Carpenter, it seems, is not being in control.

That happened to him in the movie world, it’s happening more and more as what he calls the “frailties of age” mount and it happens in that nightmare about getting lost in a big city and not finding any theaters.

“But I can’t do anything about it,” he says. “What can I do? See, the only thing I can do is what I can control: music. And watching basketball.”

There’s something about Thai cuisine that is warm and welcoming.

Perhaps it’s the fire that bird’s eye chili brings to a dish, or maybe the bold punchiness of tom yum soup.

My colleague and food critic Bill Addison referred to Thai as “a pillar cuisine of Los Angeles.”

And why not?

The city boasts the world’s largest Thai population outside of Thailand. Those who open restaurants open our palates to a diverse range of flavors and sensations from their micro-regional cooking styles.

Addison is wary of using the term “best.” Instead, he crafted a list of his 15 favorite Thai restaurants in Los Angeles. Here, we’ll highlight a handful of those choices, in Addison’s own words.

(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Times)

Anajak Thai (Sherman Oaks)

If you’ve had any passing interest in Los Angeles dining culture this decade, you probably know the story: Anajak Thai was founded in 1981 by chef Ricky Pichetrungsi, whose recipes merge his Thai upbringing and Cantonese heritage, and his wife Rattikorn.

In 2019, when Pichetrungsi suffered a stroke, the couple’s son Justin left a thriving career as an art director at Walt Disney Imagineering to take over the restaurant.

It changed his life, and it changed Los Angeles, with Justin’s creative individualism — specifically his Thai Taco Tuesday phenomenon.

That’s when the menu crisscrosses fish tacos lit up by chili crisp and limey nam jim with wok-fragrant drunken noodles and Dungeness crab fried rice. Add what has become one of L.A.’s great wine lists, and the restaurant has catapulted into one of the city’s great dining sensations.

The restaurant closed for a couple of months over the summer for a renovation, revealing a brighter, significantly resituated interior — and introducing an open kitchen and a second dining room — in August.

The menu didn’t radically alter: It’s the same multi-generational cooking, tracing the family heritage, leaning ever-further into freshness, perfecting the details in familiar dishes.

Fried chicken sheathed in rice flour batter and scattered with fried shallots, the star of the Justin-era menu, remains, as does the sublime mango sticky rice that Rattikorn makes when she can find fragrant fruit in season and at its ripest.

(Bill Addison / Los Angeles Times)

Ayara Thai (Westchester)

Owner Andy Asapahu grew up in a Thai-Chinese community in Bangkok.

Anna Asapahu, his wife, was raised in Lampang, a small city in the verdant center of northern Thailand.

They melded their backgrounds into a sprawling multi-regional menu of soups, salads, noodles and curries when they opened Ayara in Westchester in 2004.

Their daughters Vanda and Cathy oversee the restaurant these days, but Anna’s recipe for khao soi endures as the marquee dish.

Khao soi seems to have become nearly as popular in Los Angeles as pad Thai. This one is quintessential: chicken drumsticks braised in silky coconut milk infused with lemongrass and other piercing aromatics, poured over egg noodles, sharpened with shallots and pickled mustard greens and garnished with lime and a thatch of fried noodles.

The counterpoints are all in play: a little sweetness from palm sugar and a lot of complexity from fish sauce, a bump of chile heat to offset the richness.

Pair it with a standout dish that reflects Andy’s upbringing, like pad pong kari, a stir-fry of curried shrimp and egg with Chinese celery and other vegetables, smoothed with a splash of cream and served over rice. The restaurant has a spacious dining room.

Note that lunch is technically carry-out only, though the family sets up the patio space outside the restaurant for those who want to stick around.

(Silvia Razgova / For The Times)

Holy Basil (Atwater Village)

Wedchayan “Deau” Arpapornnopparat and Tongkamal “Joy” Yuon run two wholly different Holy Basils.

Downtown’s Santee Passage food hall houses the original, a window that does a brisk takeout business cranking out Arpapornnopparat’s visceral, full-throttle interpretations of Bangkok street food.

His pad see ew huffs with smokiness from the wok. The fluffy-crackly skin of moo krob pops and gives way to satiny pork belly underneath. Douse “grandma’s fry fish and rice” with chile vinegar, and in its sudden brightness you’ll understand why the dish was his childhood favorite.

Their sit-down restaurant in Atwater Village is a culmination of their ambitions. The space might be small, with much of the seating against a wall between two buildings, but the cooking is tremendous.

Arpapornnopparat leaps ahead, rendering a short, revolving menu of noodles, curries, chicken wings, fried rice and vegetable dishes that is more experimental, weaving in elements of his father’s Chinese heritage, his time growing up in India and the Mexican and Japanese flavors he loves in Los Angeles.

One creation that shows up in spring but I wait for all year: fried soft-shell crab and shrimp set in a thrilling, confounding sauce centered around salted egg yolk, browned butter, shrimp paste and scallion oil. In its sharp left turns of salt and acid and sultry funk, the brain longs to consult a GPS. But no map exists. These flavor combinations are from an interior land.

If you enjoyed those selections, check out the full list here. Happy dining.

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