Longtime

Ralph C. Dills, a Texas sharecropper’s son who became the longest serving California legislator, died Thursday in a nursing home in the Northern California community of Rocklin. He was 92.

His son, Gregory Dills, said the cause of death was old age.

“My father simply stopped breathing while sleeping, at 5:30a.m.,” he said.

A Democrat, Ralph Dills served Gardena, Compton and Lawndale throughout most of his political career.

He served in the Assembly for 11 years and in the state Senate for 32 years.

His accomplishments included writing the legislation that created Cal State Long Beach, and El Camino College, and facilitating the creation of the UCLA Law School.

He also sponsored bills that instituted driver’s education in high school and advanced collective bargaining for teachers.

Popular with the Japanese American community in Gardena, he was one of just two Capitol lawmakers to oppose the internment of Japanese Americans in World War II.

He often told colleagues of his friendship with a community member, Joe Kubota, who had once loaned him money to attend USC.

The morning in 1942 that Japanese Americans were assembled for transport to Manzanar, an internment camp in the Owens Valley, Dills said, he drove Kubota to the assembly point at the Santa Anita racetrack.

Forty years later, Dills successfully wrote legislation, signed by then-Gov. Jerry Brown, that gave partial reparations to internees.

Born in Rosston, Texas, Dills moved to California with his parents and eight siblings when he was 15.

He graduated from Gardena High School in 1927 and earned a bachelor’s degree from UCLA, a master’s degree from USC, and law degrees from Loyola University and the University of the Pacific.

He was first elected to the Assembly in 1939. After spending 11 years there, he was a municipal judge in Compton for 14 years before returning to the Legislature in 1966 as a state senator. He retired in 1998 because of term limits.

In 1994, a victim of redistricting, he still managed to win in a new district outside his core area, using the slogan, “Too old to quit.”

An old-fashioned politician, Dills often was accused of catering to special interests, such as the oil industry.

He was once investigated by the FBI for vote-buying but was not charged.

And he usually spent most of his time at his 50-acre ranch in Loomis, in Placer County, rather than in his home district in Southern California.

Still, he repeatedly proved his political durability.

When Robert Pauley, son of oil magnate Edwin W. Pauley, moved into Dills’ Gardena district in 1974, he thought that, with ample money, he could defeat Dills in the Democratic primary.

But when the votes were counted, Dills had 56% and Pauley ran third with 21%. Another candidate got 23%.

“He was one of the toughest men in the Legislature,” Pauley said Thursday.

“He had support from the unions like none other,” Pauley said. “Our brochures had him in a black box, like he was deceased. But he beat me handsomely. He had an organization I underestimated.”

In 1982, another Dills primary opponent, life insurance underwriter Mickey Carson, sent a photographer to Dills’ ranch to get pictures of his “palatial” lifestyle outside the district.

“Call it a mansion, if you want,” he said. “All the newspaper reporters seem to be interested in is where I sleep.”

Conservationists accused Dills in 1994 of having the worst environmental record in the Legislature.

The senator acknowledged, “They were right. I did have the worst record.”

But, he said, in his old district, “I had oil, oil, oil. Tideland oil. Oil all over the joint. [And] I represented my district.”

In his new district, which included beach cities north to Venice, Dills switched to a pro-environmentalist position.

The League of Conservation Voters, which had endorsed an opponent in the 1994 race, gave him a perfect rating for 1995-96.

“I moved over to the beaches … where they don’t like oil,” Dills said.

“They want nice, clean fresh air and water…. [Now], I’m 100% with the environment,” he said.

Dills is survived by his daughter, Wendy Lewellen; two sons, Gregory and Leighton; and three grandchildren.

The family asked that donations in his memory be made to any Masonic order.

They said Dills was a 33rd Degree mason, in the Scottish and York Rites.

In the 1930s, the white matriarchs of tiny Natchez, Miss. — one of the 19th century’s wealthiest American towns thanks to the slavery-driven cotton trade — opened their stately antebellum mansions to save themselves from economic ruin. Tourism dollars flowed in, even if the prettified Southern history being sold ignored the immoral plague that built its riches in the first place.

By turns cheeky and disturbing, blunt and nuanced, Suzannah Herbert’s excellent documentary “Natchez” offers its own guided tour of a memory-challenged community (population: 14,000) struggling to reconcile its exquisite, carefully scrubbed façade with the inconvenient truths some would like to see better represented in the narrative.

That longstanding erasure has made Natchez a less commercially friendly prospect to younger generations of visitors. And meaningful progress turns out to be much harder than simply refashioning an exhibit or a docent’s spiel.

Can a place like Natchez — home to both a cherished tourist pageantry called the Pilgrimage and the slave market site called Forks of the Road — find a harmonious existence between its green-and-serene sightseeing pleasures and its terrible past? Its optimistic mayor seems to think so, if the first scene is any indication, in which he exalts a “new Natchez” at a spirited ladies’ luncheon held by the tour-umbrella association, the Garden Club, and featuring that group’s first Black member, Deborah Cosey.

Cosey, we learn, runs Concord Quarters, a burned-down plantation’s last remaining building, which once housed its enslaved. (She also lives there.) Centering the work and lives of these forgotten souls is a mission she sees as telling “the rest of the story.” In one tense scene with her white colleagues, Cosey winces at their version of historical enlightenment — the reclamation project is moving at a horse-drawn carriage’s pace.

The big house is still the main show, antiquated customs and preserved finery still the plot, even as some of these hosting descendants, faced with declining revenues, grasp that there’s an increasing awkwardness to the “Gone With the Wind” myth they’re peddling. Meanwhile, charming and knowledgeable Black pastor Tracy “Rev” Collins offers a lively van tour (“See the real Mississippi”), an educational reality check about slavery’s legacy laced with witty asides.

The divide gets more complicated when the documentary trails openly gay veteran Garden Club member David Garner, whose charity work benefiting the LGBTQ+ community would seem to point to an old world’s shifting tolerance. But when this outlier’s intensely Southern-fried tour patter reveals a chillingly deep-seated racism, it slaps you right back into sobriety about Natchez’s roots — a neo-Confederate mindset that doesn’t care if a camera is there to record it.

“Natchez” is full of quietly charged moments in dreamily scenic surroundings, one result of Noah Collier’s lush cinematography, deployed like a deliberately performative nostalgia that lets us know there’s always more to see if we look (and listen) closely enough. This stylistic approach allows Herbert to expertly avoid inadvertently selling Natchez itself, instead focusing on how this town’s peculiar relationship to an overwhelming past still lives inside those doing the selling.

At the 2024 Oscars, Ryan Gosling, reprising his role as Ken in Greta Gerwig’s 2023 movie “Barbie,” donned a bedazzled pink suit and belted the ballad “I’m Just Ken.”

“I’m just Ken, anywhere else I’d be a 10,” the actor sang. “Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blond fragility?”

Barbie’s needy male counterpart, it turns out, is not “just Ken.” His full name is Kenneth Sean Carson, according to Mattel, which says the doll saw a uptick in popularity in the years following the hit movie’s release.

Ahead of Ken’s 65th birthday, the El Segundo-based toy giant shared a laundry list of niche biographical details about the doll, including his official “birthday” — March 11, 1961, making him a Pisces — as well as his relationship history with Barbie.

The company said in a statement Monday that Ken has “experienced a resurgence in recent years.”

A Mattel spokesperson cited the “Barbie” movie as a driving factor, as it showed a “different side” of Ken. In a meta move, the company later in 2023 released Ken dolls modeled after Ryan Gosling’s portrayal of Ken.

The “Kenbassador” line launched last year was a “great success,” the spokesperson said. The first product in that toy series was a $75 doll modeled after basketball player LeBron James released in April.

Mattel says it does not break out sales of Ken dolls, but in 2017, when Mattel unveiled Ken dolls with different body types, including one that invited “dad-bod” comparisons, the company told the Wall Street Journal that, on average, girls have one Ken doll for every seven Barbies they own.

Ruth Handler, the creator of Barbie, named the original doll after her daughter, Barbara. The glamorous doll, unique in that it depicted a grown woman rather than a baby, was an instant hit when it debuted at the New York Toy Fair in 1959. Barbie has significantly evolved in the decades since. Recent additions include Barbies with Type 1 diabetes and another with autism.

The Ken doll, created in 1961, was named after Handler’s son, Kenneth. He featured molded hair, wore red swim trunks and carried a yellow towel.

Kenneth Handler told The Times in a 1989 story that there were few similarities between him and the doll named after him. He died in 1994.

“Ken doll is Malibu,” he said. “He goes to the beach and surfs. He is all these perfect American things.”

But when Kenneth Handler was at Hamilton High School in Beverlywood, he “played the piano and went to movies with subtitles.” He continued, “I was a nerd — a real nerd. All the girls thought I was a jerk.”

Like Barbie, Ken dabbled in many different careers over the decades. There have been doctor, pilot, tennis player, firefighter, lifeguard, barista and even Olympic skier Kens, among many others. In 2006, he received a “mid-life makeover” from celebrity stylist Phillip Bloch.

According to the company, Ken and Barbie “met” on the set of their first television commercial in 1961 and soon began dating. After more than four decades, the doll couple broke up in 2004, but reunited in 2011.

Mattel was founded by Ruth Handler; her husband, Elliot Handler; and Harold “Matt” Matson in 1945 in a Los Angeles garage. The toy maker became a publicly traded company in 1960.

Mattel, which also owns Fisher-Price and Hot Wheels, wrote in its October Securities and Exchange Commission filing that “industry-wide shifts in retailer ordering patterns” pushed its third quarter net sales down 6%.

In 2024, Barbie gross billings — which measure the total value of products Mattel ships to retailers before sales adjustments — were down 12% from 2023, which had seen a boost from the movie, according to the company’s annual SEC filing.

WASHINGTON — Eleanor Holmes Norton, the 18-term delegate for the District of Columbia in Congress and a veteran of the Civil Rights Movement, has filed paperwork to end her campaign for reelection, likely closing out a decades-long career in public service.

Norton, 88, has been the sole representative of the residents of the nation’s capital in Congress since 1991, but she faced increasing questions about her effectiveness after the Trump administration began its sweeping intervention into the city last year.

Mayor Muriel Bowser congratulated Norton on her retirement.

“For 35 years, Congresswoman Norton has been our Warrior on the Hill,” Bowser wrote on social media. “Her work embodies the unwavering resolve of a city that refuses to yield in its fight for equal representation.”

Norton’s campaign filed a termination report with the Federal Election Commission on Sunday. Her office has not released an official statement about the delegate’s intentions.

The filing was first reported by NOTUS.

Her retirement opens up a likely competitive primary to succeed her in an overwhelmingly Democratic city. Several local lawmakers had already announced their intentions to run in the Democratic primary.

An institution in Washington politics for decades, Norton is the oldest member in the House. She was a personal friend to civil rights icons such as Medgar Evers and a contemporary of other activists turned congressional stalwarts, including Rep. Jim Clyburn (D-S.C.) and the late Reps. John Conyers (D-Mich.) and John Lewis (D-Ga.).

But Norton has faced calls to step aside in recent months as residents and local lawmakers questioned her ability to effectively advocate for the city in Congress amid the Republican administration’s aggressive moves toward the city.

The White House federalized Washington’s police force, deployed National Guard troops from six states and the federal district across the capital’s streets and surged federal agents from the Department of Homeland Security into neighborhoods. The moves prompted outcry and protests from residents and a lawsuit from the district’s attorney general.

Norton’s retirement comes as a historically high number of lawmakers announce they will either seek another public office or retire from official duties altogether. More than 1 in 10 members of the House are not seeking reelection this year.

Norton’s staunch advocacy for her city

As the district’s delegate, Norton does not have a formal vote in the House. But she has found other ways to advocate for the city’s interests. Called the “Warrior on the Hill” by her supporters, Norton was a staunch advocate for D.C. statehood and for the labor rights of the federal workers who called Washington and its surrounding region home.

She also secured bipartisan wins for district residents. Norton was the driving force behind the passage of a law that provides up to $10,000 per year for students who attend public colleges outside the district. It also provides up to $2,500 per year for students who attend select private historically Black colleges and universities across the country and nonprofit colleges in the D.C. metropolitan area.

In the 1990s, Norton played a key role in ending the city’s financial crisis by brokering a deal to transfer billions of dollars in unfunded pension liabilities to the federal government in exchange for changes to the district’s budget. She twice played a leading role in House passage of a D.C. statehood bill.

Steeped in the civil rights movement

Norton was born and raised in Washington, and her life spans the arc of the district’s trials and triumphs. She was educated at Dunbar High School as part of the school’s last segregated class.

“Growing up black in Washington gave a special advantage. This whole community of blacks was very race conscious, very civil rights conscious,” she said in her 2003 biography, “Fire in My Soul.”

She attended Antioch College in Ohio and in 1963 split her time between Yale Law School and Mississippi, where she worked as an organizer during the Freedom Summer of the Civil Rights Movement.

One day that summer, Evers picked her up at the airport. He was assassinated that night.

Norton also helped organize and attended the 1963 March on Washington.

In an interview with the Associated Press in 2023, Norton said the march was still “the single most extraordinary experience of my lifetime.”

She went on to become the first woman to lead the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, which helps enforce anti-discrimination laws in the workplace. She ran for office when her predecessor retired to run for Washington mayor.

Brown writes for the Associated Press.