fingers

Simon Cowell is set to join forces with Spice Girl icon Mel B and Jonas Brother singer Joe Jonas for a brand new show called Who’s In The Band, and a pilot will be recorded next week

One of Simon Cowell’s new projects has been described as “a big two fingers up to ITV“.

The music mogul, 66, has linked up with Netflix for Simon Cowell: The Next Act, a six-episode docuseries which will follow Simon as he searches for Britain’s next big band. He is also going to be on the judging panel of new show Who’s In The Band, which records a pilot next week.

Spice Girl icon Mel B and Jonas Brother singer Joe Jonas will work alongside Simon for the latter, which ex-TV presenter turned producer Richard Bacon says will be popular with teenagers and young adults.

But the Netflix series, Simon Cowell: The Next Act, has particularly excited the TV industry. It is believed Netflix executives “felt bringing a name like Simon in for a factual entertainment show was a power move for the network”. Another source said the programme will be “a big two fingers up to ITV” after the cancellation of The X Factor in 2021.

READ MORE: Katie Price admits to kissing Eminem and two other huge stars including Hollywood iconREAD MORE: Simon Cowell joins forces with Spice Girl and Jonas Brother for brand new show

But a source close to Simon, who created the global X Factor franchise, has denied there is “a rivalry”. They added: “There’s no rivalry nor residual issue – Simon’s focus is entirely on new formats and discovering talent.”

The X Factor, though, was scrapped after nearly 20 years on British TV screens and, at its peak, attracted 10 million viewers on a Saturday evening. It was the launching pad for a number of top-selling British music acts in the last two decades, from One Direction to Little Mix and Leona Lewis.

But Simon, who is thought to be worth £475million, continues to work with ITV on Britain’s Got Talent, which is still a staple after more than 18 years. His latest ventures, though, on other networks have television circles excited, it is understood.

The source told the Daily Mail: “Success on Netflix would be priceless retribution against ITV for the way The X Factor came to a close.” This theory is rejected by Simon, born in Lambeth, south London, whose new show Who’s In The Band will be presented by K-Pop Demon Hunters star Rei Ami, 30.

READ MORE: Amanda Holden brands Simon Cowell ‘evil’ as she shares real reason behind his head injury

Simon’s latest search for talent comes after the Britain’s Got Talent auditions was sent into chaos when he fell down another set of steps, making it the latest in a series of mishaps for the long-time judge.

He missed the first two days of filming in Birmingham after the incident, leaving producers to call in Stacey Solomon to temporarily fill his place on the panel. The star then later reappeared on the third day of auditions with a visible graze on his forehead, explaining only that he’d had “an accident.”

His absence was finally addressed during the show’s Blackpool auditions, when a choir made up of ambulance staff took to the stage. Amanda Holden joked: “I thought they might be here in case anything went wrong with you again because you were poorly last week.”

Matt Groening knows what a real theremin sounds like.

As a kid who grew up on the celluloid junk food of the 1950s and ’60s, “The Simpsons” creator heard the ghostly wail of that early electronic instrument in sci-fi film scores and in albums by his beloved Frank Zappa. Its cousin, the ondes martenot, was featured in one of Groening’s favorite classical pieces — the “Turangalîla-symphonie” by Olivier Messiaen — which would inspire the name for a lead character in “Futurama,” Turanga Leela.

So, when composer Alf Clausen was recruited in the sophomore season of Groening’s popular new show about a yellow nuclear family and answered a request to use theremin — a small lectern with two metal antennae sticking out, which a musician plays by moving their hand in the space between — in the inaugural “Treehouse of Horror” episode in October 1990, Groening immediately recognized it was a fake; it was bouncing around the scale in a way a real theremin can’t do.

“And [Clausen] admitted, yeah, it wasn’t a theremin; it was a keyboard,” Groening recalls. “And it took many years for us to get a real theremin. The downside of the theremin is that it can’t play all the notes — but it’s got a feel to it that is so great.”

Clausen quickly became a fixture of “The Simpsons,” scoring every episode from that first “Treehouse of Horror,” now an annual Halloween tradition, all the way through the end of the 28th season, which wrapped in 2017, as well as composing many unforgettably funny songs with the show’s writers. Groening often referred to Clausen as the show’s “secret weapon.”

A scene from “Treehouse of Horror XXXVI,” this year’s Halloween episode of “The Simpsons.”

(“The Simpsons” & 20th Television)

The show’s producers were always pushing to save money, Groening says, and to have the show scored with synthesizers and a drum machine — par for the course for TV music in the 1990s. But Groening felt differently. “I always thought that the music really helped the show in a way, because I thought the animation was kind of … primitive,” Groening punctuates the word with a laugh, “and I thought, man, though, if we have great orchestral music backing up these goofy drawings, it’ll mean: ‘Hey, we really meant it!’ And Alf got that right away.”

Groening was none too happy, then, when Clausen was fired by Fox in 2017. The official reason stated was the high cost of recording every episode with a live orchestra; but the veteran composer, who had previously scored TV series like “Moonlighting” and “ALF” (no relation), was 76 when he got the boot, later suing Disney and Fox over age discrimination. (Clausen died earlier this year at age 84.)

Enter Bleeding Fingers Music, a composer collective founded in 2014 by Hans Zimmer, Russell Emanuel and Steven Kofsky that has grown from its original six composers to a stable of 26. Zimmer had been a longtime go-to for “Simpsons” executive producer James L. Brooks, and he won over a skeptical Groening with his zany score for “The Simpsons Movie” in 2007.

With a composer void, Brooks approached Zimmer about taking over the series, and Zimmer proposed Bleeding Fingers — whose credits at that point included several entries in the “Planet Earth” series and various History Channel documentaries and reality shows.

Russell Emanuel of Bleeding Fingers.

(Kevin Shelburne)

“It took a long time for the decision to be made,” says Emanuel, a cheeky Brit who got his start making soundalike rock albums in the 1980s and co-formed Extreme Music in 1997, a music library company that produced EDM tracks for shows like “Top Gear.” Zimmer was an early contributor to Extreme Music, and in 2001 the company moved into his vast Remote Control Productions campus in Santa Monica.

“It was taken very seriously,” Emanuel adds. “The first I knew about it was Hans calling me into his room and going, ‘We’ve got “Simpsons.” Don’t f— it up.’”

It was an awkward arranged marriage for Groening — and a “baptism by fire” for Emanuel and his cohort. They had an ample three weeks to tackle their very first episode, a “Game of Thrones” parody titled “The Serfsons,” which featured some theremin solos. Groening asked if it was a live theremin. It was not, the new composers sheepishly replied.

“He could hear it immediately, and completely called us out on it,” says Emanuel. “We had to go back and redo that whole thing. There were two or three big issues for him — but, you know, that was part of us learning the language.”

On a recent Friday morning on the Fox scoring stage, just around the corner from Groening’s office of nearly four decades, the “Simpsons” creator was smiling as a live orchestra recorded the score for Sunday’s new “Treehouse of Horror” episode (streaming next day on Hulu). There was a woodwind virtuoso, Pedro Eustache, making wild and beautiful sounds in an isolated booth with his arsenal of flutes — and out on the stage there was a real, live theremin.

Running the session was Kara Talve, a young but dominant digit of Bleeding Fingers who has been the principal composer on “The Simpsons” since Season 30; this is her sixth “Treehouse of Horror” episode. After graduating from Berklee College of Music, she took an assistant job at Bleeding Fingers — mostly, she says, because she wanted to work on “The Simpsons.”

Kara Talve of Bleeding Fingers, who has been the principal composer of “The Simpsons” since Season 30.

(Sage Etters)

“But I had to convince Russell that I could do it,” Talve says, sitting in her studio next to her boss. “I don’t think he trusted me yet. But also: Why would he, because I was like 5 years old.”

It’s quickly apparent how self-deprecating and silly they both are — Emanuel recently got a tattoo of a Spotify code that, when scanned, triggers Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack” — but also how seriously they take this job.

“The responsibility of working on a show like this, we don’t take it lightly,” Talve says. “And because I was so intrigued by the show, and I really, really wanted to work with Russell on ‘The Simpsons,’ I went back and I listened to those old episodes — because I want to honor the musical language that Alf left, and that Danny Elfman left.” (Elfman composed the iconic theme song, which Emanuel and Talve consider “the heart of the show.”)

“And it’s a very specific palette,” she adds. “Like, not to get too nerdy about it, but there really is this harmonic language that’s only in Springfield.”

There are other, subtle ingredients to a good “Simpsons” score: For instance, the music should (usually) duck out of the way for the verbal or visual punchline. And the show has always overflowed with pop culture references and spoofs, which requires an almost bottomless well of musical knowledge. That’s one area where having two dozen other composers working in the same building comes in handy.

“There’s this adaptability that you have to have on this show,” says Talve, “and it’s every genre under the sun, and you kind of just have to figure out how to do that. And Russ was a big part in teaching me, because he’s the king of production music.” She adds that the composers in the collective also play a variety of instruments, so “I can just ask them to come in and play this line, because we can’t sell it to the showrunners if it sounds too fake.”

The average “Simpsons” episode has between five and 10 minutes of score — which might sound like easy street.

“The amount of starts is very challenging,” Talve says. “And it is deceiving. People go, ‘Five minutes? Oh, you’re just doing a bunch of stings’ or whatever. But I want to debunk this because it’s actually way harder, for me personally, to do 30 short cues for one episode than to have one long cue that’s five minutes because the amount of emotional turns that the music has to have, and that you have to hit all this stuff within 10 seconds — it’s actually really frickin’ hard.”

(In 2014, Clausen told me he always joked that “I can make you feel five ways in 13 seconds.”)

The Simpson family in a segment from this year’s “Treehouse of Horror.”

(“The Simpsons” & 20th Television)

Most episodes are recorded with small ensembles at the Bleeding Fingers facility, but the “Treehouse of Horror” chapters are special; they tend to have wall-to-wall music, and the producers splurge on a full orchestral session at Fox — just like the old days.

This year’s anthology spoofs “Jaws,” “Late Night With the Devil” and “Furiosa.” Talve’s score bobs and weaves accordingly, from big brassy horror to eerie synths to world percussion and a custom-made plastic flute.

Groening, who was full of praise for Talve’s “Treehouse” score, has gradually warmed to the Bleeding Fingers team approach — viewing it less like a factory churning out product and more like the way animators work.

“The nature of animation, with maybe two or three exceptions in the history of the medium — it’s all a collaboration,” Groening says. “We’ve got a lot of ‘Simpsons’ writers, we have a lot of voice actors, a lot of animators, a lot of musicians. I mean, one of the great things about that particular session was that these are some of the greatest musicians in Los Angeles, playing amazing music.”

He even wishes people could witness it in person.

“There should be live concerts of this music because it is so much fun to listen to,” he says.” And it gets a little constrained, you know, when it’s supporting goofy animation — but as music, it’s really fantastic.”

WHEN Shirley Bartram began suffering severe pain in her left side, coupled with vomiting, a raised heart rate and the inability to pass urine for 12 hours, she rushed to hospital where she was diagnosed with a suspected kidney infection.

But an “antibiotics mistake” led to the gran and mum-of-four’s fingers and toes turning black and suddenly “dropping off”.

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While at hospital, the 69-year-old, from Gravesend, was prescribed intravenous antibiotics to treat her UTI, but was discharged just a few hours later and sent home with oral antibiotics instead.

Shirley’s condition then deteriorated quickly and the gran ended up being placed into an induced coma for four weeks.

It was when she woke up that the tissue in her hands and feet had started to die – as she had developed life-threatening sepsis.

“Before all this happened, I was independent and active,” Shirley, a former carer, said.

“Now I struggle with the simplest things that many people take for granted.

“Holding a pen is impossible and I need help with things I used to do without thinking – buttoning clothes, washing my hair, preparing meals.

“I can’t manage stairs without help.

“Walking is painful and exhausting.

“I wear a brace on my left foot to try and stop it catching, but I still fall over.

“I can just about walk to the local shop aided with a walking stick and also some trips out to the cinema – but I am sometimes limited.”

After Shirley had been discharged from hospital, she was sick through the night

She was then re-admitted the next afternoon in September 2022.

It was then she was diagnosed with sepsis, which is believed to have been caused by her kidney infection.

Sepsis is a serious condition in which the body responds improperly to an infection.

The infection-fighting processes turn on the body, causing the organs to work poorly.

Sepsis may then lead to septic shock, which is a dramatic drop in blood pressure than can dam,age the lungs, kidneys, liver and other organs.

If the damage is severe, it can lead to death.

In total, Shirley spent four weeks in intensive care and nine weeks in hospital.

Now, she only has her fourth and little finger remaining on her right hand, with her index finger and little finger lost on her left.

Her toes are gradually self-amputating and bones in the feet have also changed shape.

‘It’s not just the physical toll, it’s the emotional one too’

Shirley, who lives with her daughter, Kelly, 47, is suffering from repeated swelling in her right hip because of infections and has experienced leaking from a wound in her top right leg.

Metalwork from a previous hip displacement has loosened as a result and it’s a waiting game while doctors try to find a solution.

She said: “It’s not just the physical toll, it’s the emotional one too.

“[…] I feel very self-conscious about my hands.

“I can’t thank Kelly enough for everything she does for me, but it’s upsetting to think about what has happened and how much independence I’ve lost.

“It’s hard to accept.

I just hope that by sharing my story, I can raise awareness of how dangerous sepsis is so others don’t have to go [and] endure what I have

Shirley Bartram

“I’m still concerned whether everything possible was done to prevent what happened to me and the least I feel I deserve is answers.

“However, I just hope that by sharing my story, I can raise awareness of how dangerous sepsis is so others don’t have to go [and] endure what I have.”

Shirley has instructed medical negligence lawyers, Irwin Mitchell, to investigate her care at Darent Valley Hospital.

Josh Beszant, a specialist medical negligence lawyer representing Shirley, said: “The last few years and coming to terms with her life-changing injuries has been incredibly difficult for Shirley.

“She was previously very independent but has now lost this and is more reliant on her family.

“While the Trust has admitted that intravenous antibiotics should have been given, but were not, Shirley firmly believes more should have been done to help and monitor her during her first hospital visit.

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“Nothing can make up for what she’s been through, but we’re determined to secure Shirley with access to the specialist support and therapies she requires.

“We call on the Trust to resolve the remaining issues in this case, allowing Shirley to focus on her rehabilitation.

“In the meantime, we join her in warning of the dangers of sepsis and the need for everyone to be aware of the signs.

“Sepsis is a medical emergency with early detection and appropriate treatment vital to preventing serious injury and even death.”

A spokesperson for Dartford and Gravesham NHS Trust said: “Dartford and Gravesham NHS Trust is very sorry for the distress and complications experienced by Ms. Bartram and her family.

“We recognise how deeply personal and difficult this is for everyone involved.

“While legal proceedings are ongoing, and to respect patient confidentiality, we cannot comment on individual clinical details.

“However, we have acknowledged shortcomings in certain aspects of the care provided, and we are fully cooperating with the legal process that will determine cause and effect.

“We remain committed to learning and strengthening our procedures to ensure the highest standards of safety and care for all our patients.

“We actively support national initiatives to raise awareness of the signs of sepsis.

“Early recognition and prompt treatment are vital, and we remain dedicated to working with our staff and the wider community to promote greater understanding of this serious condition.”

What do Dead Kennedys’ Jello Biafra, Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth and Motley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx have in common? They all dig Frankie and the Witch Fingers, an L.A.-based band whose irresistible garagey-psychedelic rock sometimes even invokes shades of Oingo Boingo and Devo thanks to a staccato freneticism and pointed lyrics. The diversity of FATWF’s peer-fans speak to the quintet’s wide-ranging appeal, and the title of their new 11-song album, “Trash Classic,” is a spot-on descriptor of the LP as a whole.

In their longtime rehearsal-recording room in a legendary Vernon warehouse, the band perch on a couch a few days before leaving for tour. There’s a whiteboard with a set list behind the sofa, and they share some “mood board” phrases written for the creation of “Trash Classic.” On posterboard, the bon mots include “Lord Forgive Us For Our Synths,” “Jello -B.Y.O.F. (Bring Your Own Fork) – Ra” and “Weenus.” Laughter ensues at the memories.

The lineup formed with Dylan Sizemore (lead vocals, rhythm guitar) and Josh Menashe (lead guitar, backing vocals, synthesizer) more than a decade ago, the pair meeting at college in Bloomington, Ind. In different bands, they’d seen each other’s gigs and run into each other at parties.

“I was just bored one day, and was like, ‘I wonder if this guy wants to jam.’ I had all these songs,” recalls Sizemore. “I just kind of showed up to his house, and I knew he was really good at guitar and really good at music in general.”

Josh Menashe, from left, Dylan Sizemore, Nicole “Nikki Pickle” Smith, Jon Modaff and Nick Aguilar, of the Los Angeles psych-rock band Frankie and the Witch Fingers get into character in their rehearsal space in Vernon on July 11, 2025.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

The San Diego-raised Menashe recalls, “I think by the time I met Dylan, I’d already dropped out [of college], though, and there were day jobs — at a screen-printing shop, I worked at a Turkish restaurant; whatever I could do to keep my music addiction going. I never really settled on a major because I just couldn’t think about what I wanted to do. Nothing made as much sense as music.”

Sizemore had been dabbling in music that was “power-pop-y, kind of like Tom Petty worship …”

“… he was in a band called Dead Beach,” Menashe adds, “and I would say it was garage rock, almost like Nirvana meets Tom Petty.”

“And Josh was in a more like surf rock, almost like mathy band. What would you describe [the band] Women as?” Sizemore asks.

“Angular, punky, buncha noise stuff,” affirms Menashe, who also played with acclaimed Bloomington-to-L.A. band Triptides starting in 2010.

In FATWF (the name comes from Sizemore’s cat Frankie) the pair’s experience and influences were varied enough to create something new that, over seven albums since 2013, has morphed into a wildly creative and raucous band with hooks, melodies, smarts, irreverence, loud guitars and wonderfully oddball synth and sounds.

A move to L.A. in 2014 and eventual changes in the rhythm section — Nikki Pickles (Nicole Smith), formerly of Death Valley Girls, joining in 2019; with drummer Nick Aguilar’s 2022 addition solidifying the band further. Jon Modaff, a multi-instrumentalist from Kentucky who played drums on tour with FATWF in 2021, joined on synth in 2024, giving the band an even broader sonic palette to realize their sometimes-oddball audio dreams.

“Trash Classic,” produced by Maryam Qudus (Tune-Yards, Alanis Morissette, Kronos Quartet) follows 2023’s “Data Doom,” which was the first album to feature Aguilar on drums. Songs are by turns epic, edgy, spacey and insistent. Some “Trash Classic” lyrics are topical and pointed: “(While the upper) class is feeding / (On the lower) babies’ food / (Microwaving) TV dinners / (With the porno) graphic news.” “Economy” minces no words: “This has got to be / The best economy / The plasma you sell / (The plasma you sell) / Buys money to eat.”

There was no grand plan or lyrical theme settled ahead of the new album’s creation. “We collectively talk about what’s going on in the world when we’re in rehearsal and stuff, and our feelings about it,” says Sizemore. “I think it’s just at a point now where talking about certain things just feels more — what’s the word? — it feels more part of the zeitgeist. Like ‘Economy,’ I wanted to write about being around abject poverty. But it makes more sense now, it fits into the context of where we are. Things that we talk about in here, about what’s going on, maybe weren’t so omnipresent, and now it feels like it is. Like, you can’t escape poverty. You can’t escape what’s happening to people less fortunate than you. It’s everywhere.”

In writing the lyrics, Sizemore thought about growing up, “seeing people trade in their food stamps to get alcohol because they’re addicted. Messy stuff like that. But it’s relevant now, it’s not just parts of the world. It’s gonna be everywhere if we don’t do something about it.”

Lyrics, while Sizemore-centric, are a collaborative process. Pickle, however, who came to bass in her 20s, says, “I just am happy to be along for the ride, and I’ll contribute where it’s helpful. I like to sit back; I guess I don’t feel qualified as a songwriter.” But, she says, “honestly, I think that that’s a helpful way to be, because if you have too many people with egos on top of each other, like, ‘no, no, no, do it my way.’ I like to listen and then insert where I can. That’s my vibe.”

Differing approaches and backgrounds serve FATWF well. Because of their “cohesive diversity and flexibility in the rock realm,” Aguilar observes, “I feel like we could play with almost anybody. At least a rock band, to any extent.”

While they’re mostly doing headlining tours, they’ve shared stages with Cheap Trick and ZZ Top. So where would FATWF overlap with the two elder statesmen classic rock lineups on the musical spectrum?

“I mean, we were really into the [13th Floor] Elevators, and…” Sizemore says.

“The Velvet Underground…” adds Pickle.

“…Roky Erickson, all that stuff. I think we tried to, like, gear our set more in that direction, just so we weren’t fully playing freaky, noisy funk stuff,” Sizemore continues. “But there’s an overlap, for sure. If we play in Atlanta or something, we’ll get someone saying, ‘Oh, the first time I saw you guys was with ZZ Top’ and that’s always cool.”

“We collectively talk about what’s going on in the world when we’re in rehearsal and stuff, and our feelings about it,” says Sizemore. “I think it’s just at a point now where talking about certain things just feels more — what’s the word? — it feels more part of the zeitgeist.”

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Most of Frankie’s members cite the DIY scenes in their areas as influential: Aguilar is from San Pedro and began drumming at the age of 10. He eventually played with that neighborhood’s most famous musician: bassist Mike Watt, and growing up, “discovered I don’t need to go to the Staples Center or Irvine Meadows to see a band. I could just go, like, 10 blocks away from my home on my bike to house shows,” he says, adding, “if there wasn’t the music scene in San Pedro, I probably wouldn’t be in this band. I’d probably be playing at the Whisky with some s— metal band that nobody cares about.”

An increasing number of people are caring about FATWF; Jello Biafra even joining them on stage. At a gig in Biafra’s hometown of Boulder, Colo., the punk provocateur met the band after their show. The next night, the singer showed up in Fort Collins.

“We have a lot of mutual friends,” explains Aguilar. “I work at Alex’s Bar in Long Beach. So I met him there a long time ago. He said he was gonna come see us at our Halloween show in San Francisco. I was like, ‘How would you feel if we learned some DK songs and you sang with us for Halloween?’”

He answered in the affirmative, so Frankie and the Witch Fingers learned the Dead Kennedys’ “Halloween,” “Police Truck” and “Holiday in Cambodia.” Biafra rehearsed with the band at sound check, and for the holiday show FATWF dressed up as “bloody doctors.” As for Biafra? “He changed his outfit in between every song! He was throwing fake bloody organs at the audience. You could tell half of the audience knew who he was. And half was like, ‘Yo, who the hell is this?’”

“Talking about all this like ancient history makes me feel, ‘Oh yeah, we’ve kind of come a long way,’” Pickles ruminates. Aguilar states his somewhat modest hopes for the band: “I think my realistic goal is the headline the Fonda Theater one day.”

But if larger-scale fame and fortune find Frankie and the Witch Fingers, beware: Menashe claims he’d get a face tattoo if the band sells a million records. His promise is captured by the reporter’s recorder, officially “on the record,” the band teases him. But in true FATWF fashion, Sizemore pushes it one further: “You gotta get a teardrop too!”

Life, death, crime, kitsch, nostalgia, immigrant aspirations and witty design — all of these elements converge in the world of motels, which didn’t exist before 1925.

Here are five facts and phenomena from the century of history.

The motel turns 100. Explore the state’s best roadside havens — and the coolest stops along the way.

Where Magic Fingers are found

From the late 1950s into the ’80s, thousands of motels proudly advertised their Magic Fingers — a little collection of vibrating electric nodes under your mattress that would give you a 15-minute “massage” for 25 cents, inspiring creators from Kurt Vonnegut to Frank Zappa. Alas, their moment passed. But not everywhere. Morro Bay’s Sundown Inn, which gets two diamonds from the Auto Club and charges about $70 and up per night, is one of the last motels in the West that still features working Magic Fingers, offered (at the original price) in most of its 17 rooms. “We’ve owned the hotel for 41 years, and the Magic Fingers was here when we started. We just kept them,” said co-owner Ann Lin. Ann’s mother- and father-in-law immigrated from Taiwan and bought the property in 1983.

Motels, hotels and Patels

Many motels and small hotels are longtime family operations. Sometimes it’s the original owner’s family, and quite often it’s a family named Patel with roots in India’s Gujarat state. A recent study by the Asian American Hotel Owners Assn. found that 60% of U.S. hotels — and 61% of those in California — are owned by Asian Americans. By one estimate, people named Patel own 80% to 90% of the motels in small-town America. The beginnings of this trend aren’t certain, but many believe that one of the first Indians to acquire a hotel in the U.S. was Kanjibhai Desai, buyer of the Goldfield Hotel in downtown San Francisco in the early 1940s.

Motels, media and murders

There’s no escaping the motel in American pop culture. Humbert Humbert, the deeply creepy narrator of Vladimir Nabokov’s 1955 novel “Lolita,” road-tripped from motel to motel with his under-age victim. Edward Hopper gave us the disquieting 1957 oil painting “Western Motel.” In the film “Psycho” (1960), Alfred Hitchcock brought to life the murderous motel manager Norman Bates. When Frank Zappa made a movie about the squalid misadventures of a rock band on tour, he called it “200 Motels” (1971). When the writers of TV’s “Schitt’s Creek” (2015-2020) wanted to disrupt a rich, cosmopolitan family, they came up with the Rosebud Motel and its blue brick interior walls. And when executives at A&E went looking for a true-crime series in 2024, they came up with “Murder at the Motel,” which covered a killing at a different motel in every episode.

The Lorraine Motel, before and after

The 1968 assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. made the Lorraine Motel in Memphis globally notorious. But before and after that day, the Lorraine played a very different role. Built as a small hotel in 1925 and segregated in its early years, the property sold to Black businessman Walter Bailey in 1945. He expanded it to become a motel, attracting many prominent African American guests. In the 1950s and ’60s, the Lorraine was known for housing guests such as Count Basie, Cab Calloway, Roy Campanella, Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Aretha Franklin, Lionel Hampton, Wilson Pickett, Otis Redding and the Staples Singers. After King’s assassination, the motel struggled, closed, then reemerged in 1991 as the National Civil Rights Museum, now widely praised. Guests follow civil rights history through the building, ending at Room 306 and its balcony where King was standing when he was shot.

The man upstairs in the Manor House

In 1980, a Colorado motel owner named Gerald Foos confided to journalist Gay Talese that he had installed fake ceiling vents in the Manor House Motel in Aurora, Colo., and for years had been peeping from the attic at guests in bed. The man had started this in the 1960s and continued into the ’90s. Finally, in 2016, Talese spun the story into a New Yorker article and a book, “The Voyeur’s Motel,” sparking many charges that he had violated journalistic ethics.