Neighborhood

Let’s just kick the elephant out of the room right away. It’s hard to write a guide to Highland Park without addressing the “G” word. The neighborhood has been described as a poster child of gentrification, and for anyone who spends time there, it’s easy to see why.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

Within the Northeast neighborhood nestled between downtown L.A. and Pasadena, you’ll see the Highland Park of the past: find remnants like the stone castle that was once the home of Charles F. Lummis, a poet and journalist who famously walked from Cincinnati to Highland Park — yes, you read that correctly — to accept a job at the Los Angeles Times in the mid 1880s. (He later went on to found the Southwest Museum, L.A.’s first museum, close by.)

You’ll see the Highland Park that remains: a working-class hub where bandas practice outside for all to hear, the smell of street tacos fills the air, multigenerational families play together at the park and iconic fixtures like the 22-foot-tall Chicken Boy statue that hovers over North Figueroa like a friendly mascot.

And you’ll see the Highland Park that’s emerging: an L.A. hot spot where young people flock to sip on fancy cocktails along York Boulevard and hang out at a chic Prohibition-era bowling alley.

Somehow, all these versions exist together. These days, it’s common to see luxury companies like Le Labo, which sells candles for upward of $90, move next door to small businesses such as the beloved Mexican family-owned Delicias Bakery & Some that has been serving fresh pan dulce for nearly 35 years. The community collectively mourned when its 100-year-old historic movie theater closed last March.

As one of L.A.’s first suburbs, Highland Park began the 20th century as an artsy oasis that was dotted with charming Craftsman homes. By the 1960s, the neighborhood had transformed into an epicenter for Latino life. The evolution of Highland Park has brought all the usual tensions between longtime residents and newcomers, many of whom were priced out of areas like Silver Lake and South Pasadena.

In spite of that, Highland Park has managed to hold onto its roots and small-town charm. This is in part thanks to nonprofits like the Highland Park Heritage Trust and community members who have been working to preserve the neighborhood’s rich history and cherished cultural hubs.

“A lot of the identity is still here, things that just make it feel like home,” says Michael Nájera, 35, whose family has lived in the neighborhood for three generations. He and his wife co-founded a running club called Tofu Scramble that meets at local coffee shops on Friday mornings.

“There’s a strong sense of community here. Even with everything going on these days, it’s amazing to see people out — some of us because we can, and others at risk because they have to,” he adds, referring to the recent ICE raids. “And still, this feels like a place where it’s OK to be brown and to be outside.” It’s common to see local businesses displaying Know Your Rights cards in support of their neighbors.

Rocio Paredes, a director and photographer who attended Franklin Middle School and High School in Highland Park, adds that “Chicanoism is very engraved in our DNA here.” You can see the culture’s influence in spaces like the Centro de Arte Público and the Mechicano Art Center, both of which were home to Highland Park’s Chicano Arts Collective, an organization that helped advance the political aims of L.A.’s Chicano movement in the 1970s. And also at local restaurants. At Las Cazuelas, a family-run Salvadoran pupuseria that’s been open since 1985, Parades says, “It’s like a f— time capsule.”

From historic Craftsman homes, beautiful hills, bountiful green spaces, cuisine from various cultures, vintage shops of varied prices and a vibrant nightlife scene, there’s so much to appreciate about Highland Park.

CHICAGO — Since the Trump administration announced its intention to accelerate and forcefully detain and deport thousands of immigrants here, the Chicago area is a split screen between everyday life and a city under siege.

As many people shop, go to work, walk their dogs and stroll with their friends through parks, others are being chased down, tear-gassed, detained and assaulted by federal agents carrying out immigration sweeps.

The situation is similar to what occurred in Los Angeles in summer, as ICE swept through Southern California, grabbing people off the street and raiding car washes and Home Depots in predominantly Latino areas, while leaving large swaths of the region untouched.

Take Sunday, the day of the Chicago Marathon.

Some 50,000 runners hailing from more than 100 countries and 50 states, gathered downtown to dash, jog and slog over 26.3 miles of Lake Michigan shoreline and city streets.

The sun was bright, the temperatures hovered in the upper-60s, and leaves of maple, oak, aspen and ginkgo trees colored the city with splashes of yellow, orange and red.

Demonstrators march outside the Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facility in Broadview, Ill., on Oct. 10.

(Kayana Szymczak/For The Times)

It was one of those rare, glorious Midwestern fall days when everyone comes outside to soak in the sunlight, knowing the gloom and cold of winter is about to take hold.

At 12:30, Ludwig Marchel and Karen Vanherck of Belgium strolled west along East Monroe Street, through Millennium Park. They smiled and proudly wore medals around their necks commemorating their marathon achievement. They said they were not concerned about coming to Chicago, despite news stories depicting violent protests and raids, and the Trump administration’s description of the city as “war torn,” a “hellhole,” a “killing field” and “the most dangerous city in the world.”

“Honestly. I was mostly worried that the government shutdown was somehow going to affect my flight,” said Marchel. He said he hadn’t seen anything during his few days in town that would suggest the city was unsafe.

Another man, who declined to give his name, said he had come from Mexico City to complete the race. He said he wasn’t concerned, either.

“I have my passport, I have a visa, and I have money,” he said. “Why should I be concerned?”

At that same moment, 10 miles northwest, a community was being tear-gassed.

Dozens of residents in the quiet, leafy neighborhood of Albany Park had gathered in the street to shout “traitor” and “Nazi” as federal immigration agents grabbed a man and attempted to detain others.

According to witness accounts, agents in at least three vehicles got out and started shoving people to the ground before throwing tear gas canisters into the street. Videos of the event show masked agents tackling a person in a red shirt, throwing a person in a skeleton costume to the ground, and violently hurling a bicycle out of the street as several plumes of smoke billow into the air. A woman can be heard screaming while neighbors yell at the agents.

Last week, a federal judge issued a temporary restraining order requiring agents to issue two warnings before using riot control weapons such as tear gas, chemical sprays, plastic bullets and flash grenades.

Witnesses told the Chicago Sun-Times that no warnings had been given.

Deirdre Anglin, community member from Chicago, takes part in a demonstration near an Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facility in Broadview, Ill., on Oct. 10.

(Kayana Szymczak/For The Times)

Since Trump’s “Operation Midway Blitz” was initiated more than six weeks ago, roughly 1,000 people have been arrested or detained.

At the ICE detention facility, in Broadview — a suburb 12 miles west of downtown — there have been daily protests. While most have been peaceful, some have devolved into physical clashes between federal agents or police and protesters.

In September, federal agents shot pepper balls and tear gas at protesters peacefully gathering outside the facility. On Saturday, local law enforcement forced protesters away from the site with riot sticks and threats of tear gas. Several protesters were knocked to the ground and forcefully handcuffed. By the end of the evening, 15 people had been arrested.

Early Sunday afternoon, roughly two dozen protesters returned to the site. They played music, danced, socialized and heckled ICE vehicles as they entered and exited the fenced-off facility.

In a largely Latino Chicago neighborhood called Little Village, things appeared peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Known affectionately by its residents as the “Midwestern capital of Mexico,” the district of 85,000 is predominantly Latino. Michael Rodriguez, a Chicago city councilman and the neighborhood’s alderman, said 85% of the population is of Mexican descent.

On Sunday afternoon, traditional Mexican music was being broadcast to the street via loudspeakers from the OK Corral VIP, a western wear store.

Demonstrators protest near an Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facility in Broadview, Ill., on Oct. 10.

(Kayana Szymczak/For The Times)

Along East 26th Street, where shops and buildings are painted with brightly colored murals depicting Mexican folklore, history and wildlife — such as a golden eagle and jaguar — a family sat at a table eating lunch, while two young women, in their early 20s, laughed and chattered as they strolled west toward Kedzie Avenue.

Rodriguez said that despite appearances, “people are afraid.”

He said he spoke with a teacher who complained that several of her elementary-school aged students have stopped coming to class. Their parents are too afraid to walk them or drive them to school, hearing stories of other parents who have been arrested or detained by ICE agents at other campuses in the city — in front of their terrified children.

Rodriguez’s wife, whom he described as a dark-skinned Latina with degrees from DePaul and Northwestern universities, won’t leave the house without her passport.

At a barber shop called Peluqueria 5 Star Fades Estrellas on 26th, a coiffeur named Juan Garcia sat in a chair near the store entrance. He had a towel draped over the back of his neck. He said his English was limited, but he knew enough to tell a visitor that business was bad.

“People aren’t coming in,” he said. “They are afraid.”

Victor Sanchez, the owner of a taco truck parked on Kedzie Road, about a half-mile south of town, said his clientele — mostly construction workers and landscapers — have largely disappeared.

“Business is down 60%,” he said to a customer. “I don’t know if they have been taken, or if they are too afraid to come out. All I know is they aren’t coming here anymore.”

Rodriguez said that ICE agents have arrested people who live in his neighborhood, but those arrests took place outside the borders of his district.

“I think they know this is a well-organized and aware neighborhood,” he said. “I think they’ve cased it and decided to grab people on the outskirts.”

To live in Los Angeles is to be a seeker. There are those who come to the city in search of the limelight and affluence. There are others who crave temperate weather and long for accessible beaches. The list goes on. Some of these desires are easily satisfied, while others are left unfulfilled or forgotten. But for those born and raised in this atypical metropolis, like Shirley Kurata, the search is never-ending.

The costume designer tells me the key to loving this city is to never stop venturing around. We sit in the shaded back patio of Virgil Normal, a 21st century lifestyle shop she owns with her husband, Charlie Staunton. She wears a vibrant pink getup — a vintage top and Issey Miyake pants — complete with small pleats and optimal for the unavoidable August heat wave. Her signature pair of black circular glasses sits perfectly on the bridge of her nose. It’s a style of eyewear she owns in several colors.

“I always tell people, L.A. is like going to a flea market. There’s some digging to do, but you’ll definitely find some gems,” says the stylist and costume designer, as she’s regularly on the lookout for up-and-coming creative hubs and eye-catching storefronts. “It won’t be handed to you. You have to dig.”

In one way or another, “digging” has marked Kurata’s creative livelihood. Whether she’s conjuring wardrobes for the big screen, like in the Oscar-winning “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” or styling musicians like Billie Eilish, Florence and the Machine and ASAP Rocky for photo shoots and music videos, the hunt for the perfect look keeps her on her toes.

Over the summer, Kurata spent a lot of time inside the Costco-size Western Costume Co., pulling looks for Vogue World, the magazine’s annual traveling runway extravaganza. This year, the fashion spectacle is centered around Hollywood and will take place at Paramount Pictures Studios in late October. She is one of the eight costume designers asked to present at the event — others include Colleen Atwood of “Edward Scissorhands,” Ruth E. Carter of “Black Panther” and Arianne Phillips of “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.” Kurata will be styling background performers and taking inspiration from the invited costume designers.

Shirley wears vintage hat, Meals Clothing top, shirt and dress, We Love Colors tights, Opening Ceremony x Robert Clergerie shoes and l.a. Eyeworks sunglasses.

“[Vogue] wanted someone that is a stylist and costume designer who has worked both in fashion and film. Because a lot of costume designers work primarily in TV and film, they don’t do the fashion styling for editorial shoots,” says Kurata. “I’m coming on and working with what other costume designers have done.”

Since her start in the business, Kurata has gained acclaim for her ability to infuse daring prints and vibrant color into the narrative worlds she deals with. Her maximalist sense of experimentation took center stage in “Everything Everywhere All at Once” and earned her an Academy Award nomination for costume design. From a bejeweled Elvis jumpsuit to a look made entirely of neon green tassels meant to resemble an amoeba, her vision was avant-garde, playful and undeniably multidimensional.

When Kurata isn’t on set or in the troves of a costume house, she’s likely tending to Virgil Normal. Housed in a former moped shop, the Virgil Village store offers a selection of novelty items and streetwear treasures, curated by both Kurata and Staunton. Though Staunton jokes that he’s constantly seeking her approval when sourcing inventory: “If it’s not cool enough for her, it doesn’t come in.”

The couple first met at the Rose Bowl Flea Market through mutual friends. At first sight, Staunton recalls being enthralled by her perpetually “cool” demeanor. Early in their relationship, he even floated the idea of starting a clothing line together, just to “knock off her closet.”

Shirley wears Leeann Huang t-shirt, skirt and shoes, We Love Colors tights and l.a. Eyeworks glasses here and in photos below.

“She’s like a peacock. It’s not like she’s trying to get attention. But she has her own vision and doesn’t really care what’s going on. She knows what’s cool,” says Staunton, who cites Kurata as the biggest “inspiration” for the store.

Inside the quaint red brick building, blue L.A. hats are embroidered to read “Larry David,” acrylic shelves are packed with Snoopy figurines (for display only), trays of l.a. Eyeworks frames fill the tables and each clothing tag is a different elaborate doodle illustrated by Staunton. He adds that everything in the store is meant to have a “rabbit hole” effect, where shoppers can give in to their curiosities.

“We wanted a place where like-minded people could come here and have it be a space to hang out. They don’t have to buy anything,” says Kurata. The attached patio is complete with a mural of a man floating in space, pipe in hand, and the coolers are still filled with chilled beers and sparkling waters from their most recent get-together. She tells me about how many times they’ve allowed musicians and artists to transform this peaceful outdoor space into a lively venue.

“Having that connection with a community of creatives in the city is essential. Having that sort of human interaction is really good for your soul, and for your creativity,” she shares. “Having this store has been one of the most fulfilling things that I’ve done, and it’s not like we’re not making a ton of money off it.”

From the cactus out front, which Kurata and Staunton planted themselves, to grabbing lunch at the taqueria down the street, she explains cultivating a space like this and being an active part of the neighborhood has made her into a more “enriched person.” Kurata, who is of Japanese descent, brings up the lesser known history of East Hollywood. In the early 1900s, the neighborhood, then called J-Flats, was where a sizable group of Japanese immigrants settled. It was once a bustling community with Japanese boarding houses that offered affordable rent and home-cooked meals. Today, only one of these properties is operating.

“Having that connection with a community of creatives in the city is essential. Having that sort of human interaction is really good for your soul, and for your creativity,”

For Kurata, being a part of this legacy means trimming the nearby overgrown vegetation to keep the sidewalks clear and running over to the locally owned convenience store when Virgil Normal needs supplies, instead of immediately turning to Amazon. She pours everything she learned from being raised in this city back into the store, and in turn, its surroundings.

Kurata was born and raised in Monterey Park, a region in the San Gabriel Valley with a primarily Asian population. The neighborhood is a small, homey stretch of land, known for its dining culture, hilly roads and suburban feeling (but not-so-suburban location). These days, she’ll often find herself in the area, as her mother and sister still live there. Together, they enjoy many of the surrounding dim sum-style restaurants.

Even from a young age, she was encouraged to treat the entire city as her stomping grounds. She attended elementary school in the Arts District, which she describes as quieter and “more industrial than it is today.” She also spent a lot of her childhood in Little Tokyo, shopping for Japanese magazines (where she found a lot of her early inspiration), playing in the arcade and grocery shopping with her family.

Shirley wears Leeann Huang lenticular dress and shoes, Mary Quant tights and l.a. Eyeworks sunglasses.

For high school, she decided to branch out even further, making the trek to an all-girls Catholic school in La Cañada Flintridge. “It was the first time where I felt like an outsider,” Kurata says, as she had only previously attended predominantly Asian schools. She laughs a little about being one of the rare “Japanese Catholics.”

“When you’re raised in something, you go along with it because your parents tell you, and it’s part of your education,” Kurata says. Her religious upbringing began to reach a point where she wasn’t connecting with it anymore. “Having that sort of awakening is good for you. I was able to look at myself, early in life, and realize that I don’t think this is for me.”

Her senior year, she discovered vintage stores. (She always knew that she had an affinity for clothing of the past, as she gravitated toward hand-me-down Barbies from the ’60s.) Her coming-of-age style consisted of layering skirts with other oversize pieces — and everything was baggy, “because it was the ’80s.” With this ignited passion for vintage and thrifting, Kurata began to mix items spanning across decades into one look.

“All the colors, the prints, the variety. It just seemed more fun. I would mix a ’60s dress with a jacket from the ’70s and maybe something from the ’40s,” says Kurata. It’s a practice that has remained a major part of her creative Rolodex.

Her lifelong interest in fashion led her to get a summer job at American Rag Cie on La Brea Avenue. At the time, the high-end store primarily sold a mix of well-curated timeless pieces, sourced from all over the world. It was the first time she encountered the full range of L.A.’s fashion scene. She worked alongside Christophe Loiron of Mister Freedom and other “rockabilly and edgier, slightly goth” kinds of people.

“Living abroad is such an important way of broadening your mind, being exposed to other cultures and even learning another language. It helps you grow as a person. It’s the best thing I ever did.”

“Time moved really slowly in that place. But just the creativity that I was around, from both the people who worked there and shopped there, was great exposure,” says Kurata, who recalls seeing faces like Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp browsing the selection and Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington trying on jeans.

Kurata continued her L.A. expedition to Cal State Long Beach, where she began her art degree. It wasn’t long before Studio Berçot, a now-closed fashion school in Paris known for its avant-garde curriculum, started calling her name.

“Living abroad is such an important way of broadening your mind, being exposed to other cultures and even learning another language. It helps you grow as a person,” says Kurata. “It’s the best thing I ever did.”

Her Parisian studies lasted around three years and it was the closest she had ever gotten to high fashion. Sometimes, she would be able to see runway shows by selling magazines inside the venue or volunteering to work backstage. Other times, she relied on well-intentioned shenanigans. She used to pass around and reuse an invitation within her group of friends. She once snuck in through a large, unattended hole in a fence. In one instance, she simply charged at the entrance when it began to rain. All things she did in the name of fashion.

“I would just do what I could to see as many shows as possible. All of the excitement is hard to explain. When I worked backstage, there’s this labor of love that’s put towards the show. It’s this contagious energy that you could feel when the models start coming,” says Kurata, who saw everything from Jean Paul Gaultier to John Galliano and Yves Saint Laurent. When she was backstage for a Vivienne Westwood show, she recollects seeing this “shorter model, and thinking, ‘Oh, she’s so tiny,’ and then realizing that it was Kate Moss who was still fairly new at that point.”

“We wanted a place where like-minded people could come here and have it be a space to hang out. Having this store has been one of the most fulfilling things that I’ve done.”

Staying in France was intriguing to a young Kurata, but the struggles of visas and paperwork deterred her. She instead returned to L.A., freshly inspired, and completed her bachelor’s degree in art (to her parents’ satisfaction). She didn’t plan to get into costume design, Kurata explains. But when it became clear that designing her own line would require moving to somewhere like New York or back to Europe, she realized, “Maybe fashion is not the world I want to get into; maybe it’s costumes.”

“I felt comfortable with that decision,” shares Kurata. “I do love film, so it was just a transition I made. It was still connected [to everything that I wanted to do].”

Without the aid of social media, she sent letters to costume designers, hoping to get mentored, and started working on low-budget jobs. She quickly fell in love with how much the job changed day-to-day. On occasion, there are 12-hour days that can be “miserable,” but her next job might be entirely different. One day she’s styling the seasonal campaigns for her longtime friends Kate and Laura Mulleavy, owners of Rodarte, and the next she could be styling for the cover of W Magazine, where a larger-than-life Jennifer Coolidge stomps through a miniature city in a neon polka-dot coat.

Whenever Kurata takes on a project, Staunton says she “just doesn’t stop.” Sometimes, he’ll wake up at 3 in the morning and she’s emailing people in Europe, attempting to hunt down a rare vintage piece. Her passion is the kind that simultaneously consumes and fuels her.

“There’s a lot of times [with her work] where I’m like, ‘That’s just straight out of Shirley’s closet.’ It’s not like she has to compromise. It’s something she would wear herself. She doesn’t have to follow trends,” explains Staunton. “People seek her out, because she has such a unique vision.”

“I always tell people, L.A. is like going to a flea market. There’s some digging to do, but you’ll definitely find some gems.”

Kurata thinks of herself as “someone who gets bored easily.” It’s a quality that’s reflected in her eclectic style, busy travel schedule, Virgil Normal’s constantly changing selection and even the common feeling she gets when she’s sick of all of her clothes. It’s a good thing being bored and being in Los Angeles don’t go hand in hand.

I ask Kurata a somewhat daunting question for a born-and-bred Angeleno.

“Do you think you could ever see yourself calling another place home?”

She lets out a deep sigh and tells me it’s not something she’s closed off to. Though, she takes a moment to reflect on how everyone came together to provide support during the Palisades and Eaton fires earlier this year. Or how good it feels when they have events at Virgil Normal, to be surrounded by a diverse group of creative minds “who don’t judge.” She even thinks about how she currently lives in a Franklin Hills house, a neighborhood she never thought she would be able to afford.

Time and time again, Kurata and this sprawling city-state have looked out for each other. From the way she speaks of different areas with such an intrinsic care, to showcasing her unique creative eye in Tinseltown, L.A. has made her into a permanent seeker. Whether she chooses to stay in Franklin Hills for the rest of her life or packs up everything tomorrow, she’ll always keep an eye out for hidden gems — just like at the flea market.

Thai is a pillar cuisine of Los Angeles. The largest Thai population outside of Thailand calls Los Angeles home. The community designation in East Hollywood is the only officially recognized Thai Town in the United States. As with Koreatown and Historic Filipinotown, the neighborhood took root when our country, via the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, welcomed waves of migration from across Asia.

As with all of the world’s great culinary traditions, “Thai cuisine” really means micro-regional cooking styles. In L.A., we can taste the breadths. We can seek out the mulchy, herbaceous pleasures of sai ua from Thailand’s northernmost extremes, bordering Laos, noting how the textures of the sausage vary by the hands who make them. Rice is crisped in salads, pounded into noodles, powdered into a seasoning, stir-fried in infinite variations or served plain, sticky or not, as a catchall for prismatic flavors.

Curries, silken with coconut milk, will change with the color of the chiles in their pastes. Appearances deceive. I did not believe how profoundly capsicums can set a body aflame until I plowed through several bites of kua kling phat tha lung, the hottest dish at Jitlada, during my initiation lunch in 2008. I am long past that milestone, but I’d do it over again that one time.

No matter the headline, I’m wary of the word “best.” These are 15 favorites, often emphasizing the specificity of a Thai chef’s home region. Use it as a blueprint. Wander the outdoor food court of the Wat Thai temple in Sun Valley on an early Sunday afternoon. Find a friend and walk the blocks of Thai Town, scanning menus to see what appeals. There will soon be another restaurant vying for boat noodle supremacy. Maybe someone will soon show up making chor muang, the ornate royal flower dumplings, that I’ve had a hard time finding. Being a pillar cuisine is knowing that room for possibility always remains.

Spider-Man and a Hollywood tour guide were having it out.

They stood right outside Jimmy Kimmel’s studio on Hollywood Boulevard, arguing about whether ABC was right to yank the host’s TV show off the air last week after he commented on the political response to right-wing activist Charlie Kirk’s killing.

“I like Kimmel!” said the Spider-Man impersonator, who wore pink Nike sneakers and leaned in close so he could hear through his thin, face-covering costume. “What he said is free speech.”

A tour bus drives past what was Jimmy Kimmel’s studio on Hollywood Boulevard on Sept. 18, 2025.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Todd Doten, a tour agent for Beverly Hills Tours of Hollywood, pushed back. He said he believed broadcasters are held to a different standard than private citizens, and that the Federal Communications Commission — which pushed to get Kimmel’s show canceled — “has somewhat of a point.”

The men verbally sparred beside singer Little Richard’s cracked star on the Walk of Fame. Then Doten patted the selfie-hawking superhero on the back and they parted ways amicably.

The scene on Friday afternoon captured the Hollywood that Kimmel embraced and aggressively promoted: Weird, gritty and surprisingly poignant.

Ever since he began filming at the El Capitan Entertainment Centre in 2003, Kimmel has been one of the famed neighborhood’s biggest ambassadors. He drew tourists to the storied Hollywood Boulevard, which — despite being home to the Academy Awards, TCL Chinese Theatre and the Walk of Fame — has long struggled with crime, homelessness and blight. He used his celebrity to help homeless youth and opened a donation center on his show’s backlot for victims of the January wildfires.

And he filmed many a sketch with Hollywood itself as the bizarro backdrop — including one returning bit called “Who’s High?” in which he tried to guess which of three pedestrians was stoned.

Protesters in front of Jimmy Kimmel’s theater a day after ABC pulled the late-night host off air indefinitely over comments he made about the response to right-wing influencer Charlie Kirk’s death.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Now, locals and entertainment industry officials alike worry what will happen if Kimmel’s show permanently disappears from a Hollywood still struggling to recover from the writers’ and actors’ strikes of 2023 and the COVID-19 pandemic that literally shut the neighborhood down. While his suspension has sparked a roiling debate over free speech rights nationwide, in this neighborhood, the impact is more close to home.

“A hostile act toward Jimmy Kimmel is a hostile act toward Hollywood itself and one of its great champions,” former Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti told The Times on Friday.

“Hollywood is both a place and an idea. It’s an industry and a geography. Jimmy is always big on both. He actually lives in Hollywood, at a time when not a lot of stars do.”

Miguel Aguilar, a fruit vendor who often sets up near Kimmel’s theater, said Friday that business was always better on the days “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” filmed because so many audience members bought his strawberries and pineapples doused in chamoy. He was stunned when a Times reporter told him the show had been suspended.

“Was it canceled by the government?” Aguilar asked. “We used to get a lot more customers [from the show]. That’s pretty scary.”

A man holding a sign advertising at a nearby diner said he worried about Kimmel’s crew, including the gaffers and makeup artists.

“How many people went down with Kimmel?” he asked.

And Daniel Gomez, who lives down the street, said he feared that nearby businesses will suffer from the loss of foot traffic from the show, for which audience members lined up all the way down the block.

“Tourists still will come to Hollywood no matter what, but a portion of that won’t be coming anymore,” Gomez said as he signed a large canvas outside the theater on which scores of fans and free speech advocates wrote messages about the show being axed.

Protesters in front of Jimmy Kimmel’s theater in Hollywood.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

“It’s pretty bad that he got shut down because of his comments,” Gomez added. “Comedians should be free to say whatever they want.”

In a joint statement, a coalition of Hollywood labor groups including the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees and Screen Actors Guild–American Federation of Television and Radio Artists, said the kind of political pressure that Kimmel faced as a broadcaster “chills free speech and threatens the livelihoods of thousands of working Americans.”

“At a time when America’s film and television industry is still struggling due to globalization and industry contraction, further unnecessary job losses only make a bad situation worse,” the statement read.

During his monologue Monday, Kimmel made remarks about Tyler Robinson, the Utah man accused of fatally shooting Kirk. He said the “MAGA gang” was “desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them and doing everything they can to score political points from it.”

Ingrid Salazar protests outside of the “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” studio on Thursday.

(Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)

While Kimmel’s remarks could be interpreted in different ways, Kirk’s supporters immediately accused the talk show host of claiming Robinson was a Trump ally, which many of Kimmel’s supporters reject. Kimmel himself has not publicly responded.

Kimmel also mocked President Trump for talking about the construction of a new White House ballroom after being asked how he was coping with the killing of his close ally.

Nexstar Media Group responded on Wednesday, saying it would pull the show from its ABC affiliate stations because of Kimmel’s comments. Walt Disney Co., which owns ABC, then announced it would suspend “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” indefinitely.

Nexstar’s decision to yank the show came after FCC Chairman Brendan Carr, a Trump appointee, threatened to take action against ABC and urged local ABC affiliate stations to stand up the network.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Carr told right-wing podcast host Benny Johnson. “These companies can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or, you know, there’s going to be additional work for the FCC ahead.”

Trump wrote on his Truth Social account: “Great News for America: The ratings challenged Jimmy Kimmel Show is CANCELLED. Congratulations to ABC for finally having the courage to do what had to be done.”

He also targeted late-night hosts Jimmy Fallon and Seth Meyers, calling them “total losers.” He pressured NBC to cancel their shows, writing: “Do it NBC!!!”

The president this summer praised CBS’s decision to cancel “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert” after this season, writing on Truth Social on July 18: “I absolutely love that Colbert’ got fired. His talent was even less than his ratings. I hear Jimmy Kimmel is next.”

Pedestrians walk across the street from the “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” theater a day after ABC has pulled the late-night host off air indefinitely.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

While the show is in limbo, it is unclear what will happen to Kimmel’s iconic theater in the historic former Hollywood Masonic Temple, a neoclassical 1921 building fronted by six imposing columns.

Disney owns the building, as well as the adjacent 1920s office building that contains the El Capitan Theatre and the Ghirardelli Soda Fountain and Chocolate Shop. Kimmel’s production company, 12:05 AM Productions, occupies four floors — 26,000 square feet — in the six-story office building, according to real estate data provider CoStar.

Disney did not respond to a request for comment.

Garcetti, who long represented Hollywood on the L.A. City Council, said Kimmel was a major advocate for renovation of the old Masonic lodge and other revitalization Hollywood projects.

And after the Oscars returned for good to the Kodak Theatre (now Dolby Theatre) across the street in 2002 after several years outside of Hollywood, Kimmel “helped usher in what I call Hollywood’s second golden age, when the Academy Awards came back and people saw actual stars in nightclubs and restaurants,” Garcetti said.

When Garcetti was showing off the city to officials with the International Olympic Committee years ago in an effort to host the Games, Kimmel met their helicopter on the roof of a Hollywood hotel to brag about the neighborhood.

Jimmy Kimmel, host and executive producer of the late-night talk show, “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” celebrates as he receives his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame Jan. 25, 2013.

(Reed Saxon/Associated Press)

At the 2013 Hollywood Chamber of Commerce ceremony awarding Kimmel a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Garcetti quipped: “When you came here to Hollywood Boulevard, this place was full of drug dealers and prostitutes, and you welcomed them with open arms.”

Kimmel joked that his parents brought him to the Walk of Fame as a 10-year-old and left him there to fend for himself.

“I’m getting emotional,” he said during the ceremony. “This is embarrassing. I feel like I’m speaking at my own funeral. This is ridiculous. People are going to pee on this star.”

Kimmel’s star is by his theater, near the stars for rapper Snoop Dogg — and Donald Duck.

On his show in May, pop star Miley Cyrus told Kimmel she developed a serious infection after filming on the Hollywood Walk of Fame last year, where she rolled around on the sidewalk. Part of her leg, she said, started to “disintegrate.”

“Have you been to the Walk of Fame in the middle of the night?” she asked.

“I live here,” Kimmel said.

“I thought it was my last day,” Cyrus responded.

Hundreds of protesters have gathered outside Kimmel’s theater in recent days, decrying the suspension of his show.

The cancellation occurred right after Dianne Hall and Michael Talbur of Kansas City got tickets to a live taping of the show and traveled to Los Angeles. So, they attended a protest Thursday instead.

Hall said she was expecting Kimmel’s monologue “to be something rude toward the [Kirk] family” but was surprised when she actually listened to it.

“I kept thinking, ‘Surely something bad was said for him to get fired,’ ” Hall said. “But it was nothing like that.”

Hollywood resident Ken Tullo said he’s “not a protesting type of guy, but enough’s enough” and he did not want his daughters to grow up with a fear of speaking freely.

“The current administration cannot laugh at themselves,” Tullo said, “and they don’t want anybody else to laugh.”

Times staff writer Roger Vincent contributed to this report.

For much of the country, September marks a transition to autumnal weather. While that’s technically true in L.A. too, Angelenos know that the month is also known for its cascade of back-to-back heat waves.

On L.A.’s heat map, you’ll often find the hottest temperatures concentrated in the San Fernando Valley. But despite this reputation, there are still plenty of places worth ducking into for more than a blast of cool AC. Home to roughly half of L.A.’s population and dozens of neighborhoods, the Valley boasts a parade of sushi restaurants along Ventura Boulevard, a thrilling Thai food scene, long-standing burger shacks and plenty of breweries, wine and cocktail bars. And arguably the best restaurant in the region just reopened its doors after remodeling its dining room.

Outside of the 818, there are plenty of bars across the city, from a Mexico City-inspired wine bar in Chinatown to a Parisian haunt in West Adams. And if you’re abstaining from the booze or looking for a daytime option, L.A. has a slew of stellar remote-work destinations, including a plant-filled bookstore in Silver Lake and a two-story bistro in downtown L.A.

On your quest to avoid the summer heat, consider heading to the coastal South Bay region, where you’ll find so many Japanese dining options, including an ice cream shop and daily-prepared tofu.

And if you’re in need of even more ideas for diving into L.A.’s food scene, consult this list of newcomers, including a Chinese bakery chain that’s landed in Beverly Hills and a vegetable-forward izakaya in Venice.

WASHINGTON — The street, normally quiet, was abuzz. The block lit up with flashing police cruisers and officers in tactical vests. Some had covered their faces. Neighbors came out of homes. Some hurled insults at the police, telling them to leave — or worse. Dozens joined in a chant: “Shame on you.”

Aaron Goldstein approached two officers. “Can you tell me why you couldn’t do this at 10:30 or 9:30, and why you had to terrorize the children in our neighborhood?” the man asked the officers as they turned their gazes away from him. Both wore dark sunglasses against the morning sun.

They said nothing.

The arrest shattered the routine of the neighborhood around Bancroft Elementary School, a public school where more than 60% of students are Latino. It came on the third day of a new school year, and immigration fears had already left the neighborhood on edge. Groups of residents had started escorting students to school from two nearby apartment complexes.

It was just another morning in Washington, D.C., in Summer 2025 — the summer of President Trump’s federal law-enforcement intervention in the nation’s capital.

A confrontation that was one among many

Some interludes unfold calmly. During others, nothing happens at all. But the boil-over Wednesday morning was one among many that have erupted across the city since Trump’s police takeover, offering a glimpse into daily life in a city where emotions have been pulled taut. Sightings of police activity spread quickly, attracting residents who say the federal infusion is unwelcome.

Families and children had been making their way toward a bilingual elementary school in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood when federal and local police officers descended on an apartment building just blocks from the school. Neighbors had been on high alert amid fears of increased immigration enforcement.

Now officers were flooding the street, some in plainclothes and face coverings. Some carried rifles or riot shields. Neighbors gathered outside and began yelling at the police to leave. Blocks away, as word spread, an assistant principal waiting to greet students sprinted to the scene.

In an interview, Goldstein, the Mount Pleasant resident, said it felt like a violation of the neighborhood, which he described as a “peaceful mix of white professionals and migrant neighbors, with a lot of love in it.”

“People are on Signal chats and they’re absolutely terrified, and everyone is following this,” said Goldstein, 55, who had just dropped off his third-grade daughter at Bancroft. “It’s distressful. We feel invaded, and it’s really terrible.”

The standoff continued after police arrested a man who they said is accused of drug and firearm crimes. Dozens of residents trailed officers down a side street and continued the jeers. “Quit your jobs.” “Nobody wants you here.” “You’re ruining the country.”

Asked about the episode later at a news conference, D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser said it attracted “a significant number of protesters” but “we were able to maintain calm.” Said Bowser: “I know there’s a lot of anxiety in the District.”

One officer, in the middle of it all, tries to talk

The conflict was punctuated by a remarkably candid conversation led by a Metropolitan Police Department sergeant who took questions from neighbors in what he described as “not an official press conference.”

“This is just me talking to community members,” Sgt. Michael Millsaps said, leaning back against the rear bumper of a cruiser.

Millsaps said the city’s police department was carrying out a planned arrest of a “suspected drug dealer” with support from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. The suspect was taken into custody and a search of his apartment uncovered narcotics and an illegal firearm, Millsaps said.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers joined only as a distraction to prevent protesters from disrupting the operation, he said.

“The immigration folks were parked over there to get y’all to leave us alone,” he said. ICE officials did not immediately comment.

Residents told Millsaps that their trust of the city’s police had been broken. They said they felt less safe amid Trump’s crackdown. Millsaps said he was sorry to hear it. “I hear your frustrations. My job is to take it.”

Still, he described a different response from residents east of the Anacostia River, in some of the city’s highest crime areas. “I go on the other side of the river now, it’s the opposite. People come outside and thank us,” he said.

Mount Pleasant resident Nancy Petrovic was among those yelling at city and ATF officers after the arrest. Petrovic, a lifelong resident of the area, rushed out of her home when she heard yelling shortly after 8 a.m. She counted at least 10 police cars lined up across the block.

“Kids are going to school, they’re walking to school, and it’s frightening to them and their parents,” said Petrovic, who said the street is usually quiet and has no need for more police. “We want them to go away.”

Asked about the timing of the arrest, Millsaps said it was a planned operation similar to countless others.

“I’ve been doing this for 14 years, serving these warrants at the same time of day,” he said. “The only difference is you’ve got a big crowd here, which added even more police presence. But this was just a normal police operation.”

Binkley writes for the Associated Press.

WASHINGTON — Public schools reopened Monday in the nation’s tense capital with parents on edge over the presence in their midst of thousands of National Guard troops — some now armed — and large scatterings of federal law enforcement officers carrying out President Trump’s orders to make the District of Columbia a safer place.

Even as Trump started talking about other cities and again touted a drop in crime that he attributed to his extraordinary effort to take over policing in Washington, D.C., the district’s mayor was lamenting the effect of Trump’s actions on children.

“Parents are anxious. We’ve heard from a lot of them,” Mayor Muriel Bowser said at a news conference, noting that some might keep their children out of school because of immigration concerns.

“Any attempt to target children is heartless, is mean, is uncalled for and it only hurts us,” she said. “I would just call for everybody to leave our kids alone.”

Rumors of police activity abound

As schools opened across the capital city, parental social media groups and listservs were buzzing with reports and rumors of checkpoints and arrests.

The week began with some patrolling National Guard units now carrying firearms. The change stemmed from a directive issued late last week by his Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.

Armed National Guard troops from Ohio, South Carolina and Tennessee were seen around the city Monday. But not every patrol appears to be carrying weapons. An Associated Press photographer said the roughly 30 troops he saw on the National Mall on Monday morning were unarmed.

Armed Guard members in Washington will be operating under long-standing rules for the use of military force inside the U.S., the military task force overseeing all the troops deployed to D.C. said Monday. Those rules, broadly, say that while troops can use force, they should do so only “in response to an imminent threat of death or serious bodily harm” and “only as a last resort.”

The task force has directed questions on why the change was necessary to Hegseth’s office. Those officials have declined to answer those questions. Speaking in the Oval Office on Monday, Hegseth said that it was common sense to arm them because it meant they were “capable of defending themselves and others.”

Among their duties is picking up trash, the task force said, though it’s unclear how much time they will spend doing that.

Bowser reiterated her opposition to the National Guard’s presence. “I don’t believe that troops should be policing American cities,” she said.

Trump is considering expanding the deployments to other Democratic-led cities, including Baltimore, Chicago and New York, saying the situations in those cities require federal action. In Washington, his administration says more than 1,000 people have been arrested since Aug. 7, including 86 on Sunday.

“We took hundreds of guns away from young kids, who were throwing them around like it was candy. We apprehended scores of illegal aliens. We seized dozens of illegal firearms. There have been zero murders,” Trump said Monday.

Some other cities bristle at the possibility of military on the streets

The possibility of the military patrolling streets of Chicago, the nation’s third-largest city, prompted immediate backlash, confusion and a trail of sarcastic social media posts.

Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson, a first-term Democrat, has called it unconstitutional and threatened legal action. Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker deemed it a distraction and unnecessary as crime rates in Chicago are down, as they are nationwide.

Pritzker, often mentioned as a presidential contender, posted an Instagram video Monday of his 6 a.m. walk along a Lake Michigan path filled with runners and walkers.

“I don’t know who in Washington thinks that Chicago is some sort of hellhole, but you may need to look inward,” he said, mocking Trump’s term describing Washington.

Others raised questions about where patrols might go and what role they might play. By square mileage, Chicago is more than three times the size of Washington, and neighborhoods with historically high crime are spread far apart.

Former Chicago Police Superintendent Garry McCarthy, who also worked for the New York Police Department, wondered what the National Guard would do in terms of fighting street violence. He said if there was clear communication, they could help with certain tasks, like perimeter patrol in high-crime neighborhoods, but only as part of a wider plan and in partnership with police.

National Guard troops were used in Chicago to help with the Democratic National Convention last summer and during the 2012 NATO Summit.

Overall, violent crime in Chicago dropped significantly in the first half of 2025, representing the steepest decline in over a decade, according to police data. Shootings and homicides were down more than 30% in the first half of the year compared with the same time last year, and total violent crime dropped by over 22%.

Still, some neighborhoods, including Austin on the city’s West Side, where the Rev. Ira Acree is a pastor, experience persistent high crime.

Acree said he’s received numerous calls from congregants upset about the possible deployment. He said if Trump was serious about crime prevention, he would boost funding for anti-violence initiatives.

“This is a joke,” Acree said. “This move is not about reducing violence. This is reckless leadership and political grandstanding. It’s no secret that our city is on the president’s hit list.”

In June, roughly 4,000 National Guard troops and 700 Marines were sent to Los Angeles to deal with protests over the administration’s immigration crackdown. California’s Democratic governor, Gavin Newsom, and other local elected officials objected.

Sherman, Khalil and Tareen write for the Associated Press. Tareen reported from Chicago. AP writers Konstantin Toropin and Will Weissert contributed to this report.

In the tangled family of Hollywoods, Hollywood would be the obvious golden child, West Hollywood its ritzy older sister and East Hollywood its indie-cool younger brother. North Hollywood, however, is harder to classify. Perhaps you can call it the elusive half-sibling — sharing the family name but somewhat lacking in family resemblance.

Separated from its siblings by sprawling mountains, the oft-slighted San Fernando Valley neighborhood has been described as a bedroom community and a way station for fledgling actors. It’s a socio-architectural liminal space, one in which a historic train depot is home to a hip coffee shop and downtown streets are immediately bordered by suburbia.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

North Hollywood’s lingering sense of fragmentation is consistent with its slew of past lives — from late-1800s wheat titan to modern cultural center — punctuated by infrastructure milestones like the 1913 completion of the L.A. Aqueduct and the 2000 extension of the Metro Red Line.

The neighborhood has even gone by a few different names: first Toluca, then Lankershim, for the real estate pioneer Isaac Lankershim, who helped catalyze the development of the San Fernando Valley. North Hollywood adopted its current moniker in 1927, as film studios poured into the area and residents at the behest of enterprising developers petitioned to rebrand their town as a Hollywood hot spot. It was, as Tom Link wrote in his 1991 book about the neighborhood’s history, “like a new movie star discarding an old name in order to appear more attractive.”

Today, North Hollywood is an eclectic nook with its cultural epicenter in the Noho Arts District. Dotted with petite theaters, boutiques and pie shops, the 1-square-mile patch was revitalized at the turn of the century with the northward extension of the Metro Red Line and the concurrent opening of the North Hollywood Metro Station. At a critical time for its development, the Metro made North Hollywood an anomaly: a hip and walkable L.A. suburb.

Especially for a locale beyond the hills, North Hollywood is remarkably central, nestled among popular neighbors Burbank and Studio City but boasting reported monthly rent averages hundreds of dollars cheaper than both. And while it’s already home to a high population of young, single professionals, it’s poised to draw even more millennial and Gen Z renters with a transit-oriented development projected to create swaths of affordable housing units in the next decade. Surely, the barcades and artisan coffee shops will be glad to see them come in.

Whether you get there by car, train or bike, here’s how and where to spend your time in North Hollywood, the enigmatic neighborhood whose charm sneaks up on you. — Malia Mendez

After a tense and sharply divided debate Tuesday, the Los Angeles City Council voted to oppose a state bill that aims to vastly expand high-density housing near public transit hubs, arguing that the state should leave important planning decisions to local legislators.

The council voted 8 to 5 to oppose Senate Bill 79, which seeks to mitigate the state’s housing shortage by allowing buildings of up to nine stories near certain train stops and slightly smaller buildings near some bus stops throughout California.

“A one-size-fits-all mandate from Sacramento is not safe, and it’s not responsible,” said City Councilmember Traci Park at a news conference before the vote.

Park, who was joined at the news conference by Councilmembers Monica Rodriguez and John Lee, said the bill was an attempt by its sponsor, state Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco), and other state legislators to “hijack” local planning from the city.

Lee, who authored the resolution opposing the bill, called it “not planning” but “chaos.”

Wiener lamented the City Council’s vote.

“Opponents of SB 79 are offering no real solutions to address our housing shortage at the scale needed to make housing more affordable,” Wiener said in a statement. “California’s affordability crisis threatens our economy, our diversity, and our fundamental strength as a state.”

In addition to creating more affordable housing, the bill would increase public transit ridership, reduce traffic and help the state meet its climate goals, he said.

Councilmember Nithya Raman, who voted against opposing the bill, said the city’s housing crisis is so dire that the council needs to work with the drafters of the bill — even if there are elements of it they do not support.

“Overall, we talk a lot about our housing crisis on this body, but our actions have not met the moment,” she said. “If I thought that this body was acting in good faith to address our housing crisis, I would support this [resolution].”

The bill, which passed the Senate and is before the Assembly Appropriations Committee, would allow heights of nine stories near major transit hubs, such as certain Metro train stops in L.A. A quarter-mile from a stop, buildings could be seven stories tall, and a half-mile from a stop, they could be six stories. Single-family neighborhoods within a half-mile of transit stops would be included in the new zoning rules.

Near smaller transit stops, such as light rail or bus rapid transit, the allowed heights would be slightly lower.

Next week, the Appropriations Committee will determine whether the bill goes to the Assembly floor for a vote. If passed in both chambers, the bill would go to Gov. Gavin Newsom to sign by mid-October.

The City Council’s resolution opposing the bill has no binding effect on the state Legislature but gives the council a platform to potentially lobby in Sacramento against its passage. The resolution also called for the city to be exempt from the bill because it has a state-approved housing plan.

“If they hadn’t taken a position on this, the state Legislature would say, ‘Well, the city of L.A. doesn’t care,’” said Zev Yaroslavsky, a former City Council member and now the director of the Los Angeles Initiative at the UCLA Luskin School of Public Affairs.

Mayor Karen Bass has not yet taken a position on the bill. City Attorney Hydee Feldstein Soto came out against it in May, arguing that it would cost the city billions of dollars to upgrade infrastructure such as sewage and electrical systems to handle an influx of residents in previously low-density neighborhoods.

Wiener’s office said the bill allows for cities to exempt some properties near transit hubs if they meet density guidelines.

This year, the City Council passed the Citywide Housing Incentive Program, which provides incentives for developers to build market-rate and affordable units and aims to boost building along commercial corridors and in dense residential neighborhoods.

The council passed the ordinance, which left single-family zones largely untouched after pushback from homeowners groups, a week before a state deadline for the city to have a housing plan in place. As part of the plan, the city was required to find land where an additional 255,000 homes could be built.

One of the best parts of Bodevi is the space itself, decorated with colorful wall decor, leather chairs and houseplants. Owned by husband-and-wife duo Joeleen and Miguel Medina, who also own Truman House Tavern next door, Bodevi has a boho-chic aesthetic that matches both its daytime coffee shop crowd and its eccentric evenings, when customers often drift to the back room for board games, beer and wine in hand.

Whether you go for a DJ set or a journaling session (check Instagram for upcoming events), accompany your evening with charcuterie. Bodevi offers two options: one charcuterie board and a smaller personal plate. It also has $18 wine flights — for the most variety, opt for the Studio 54, which comes with a light South African Champagne, a Portuguese white, a bright rosé and a 2021 Pinot Noir.

Fifty years ago, L.A. free-jazz titan Bobby Bradford moved into a rambling, verdant house in Altadena. The cornet and trumpet virtuoso, who performed in Ornette Coleman’s band and taught jazz history at Pomona College and Pasadena City College for decades, chose the neighborhood partly because it was bustling with artists. He finally had enough bedrooms for his young family to thrive in a bucolic corner of the city with deep Black roots.

In January, Bradford’s house burned down in the Eaton fire, alongside thousands of others in his cherished Altadena. At 91, he never imagined starting his life over again in tiny rented apartments, with decades of memories in cinders.

Despite it all, he’s still playing music. (He said that while he did not receive grants from major organizations such as MusiCares or Sweet Relief, a GoFundMe and others efforts by fellow musicians helped him replace his cherished horn.)

At the Hammer Museum on Thursday, he’ll revisit “Stealin’ Home,” a 2019 suite of original compositions inspired by his lifelong hero — the baseball legend and Dodgers’ color-line-breaker Jackie Robinson, a man who knew about persevering through sudden, unrelenting adversity.

“That’s all I have left,” Bradford said, pulling his horn out of its case to practice for the afternoon. “I’m [91] years old. I don’t have years to wait around to rebuild.”

For now, Bradford lives a small back house on a quiet Pasadena residential street. It’s his and his wife’s fifth temporary residence since the Eaton fire, and they’ve done their best to make it a home. Bradford hung up vintage posters from old European jazz festivals and corralled enough equipment together to peaceably write music in the garage.

Still, he misses his home in Altadena — both the physical neighborhood where he’d run into friends at the post office and the dream of Altadena, where working artists and multigenerational families could live next to nature at the edge of Los Angeles.

“We knew who all the musicians were. Even if we didn’t spent much time all together, it did feel like one big community,” Bradford said. “We knew players for the L.A. Phil, painters, dancers.”

L.A.-based jazz composer/musician Bobby Bradford plays the cornet while rehearsing his original composition in his Altadena home in 2019.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

These days, there’s a weariness in his eyes and gait, understandable after such a profound disruption in the twilight of his life. He’s grateful that smaller local institutions have stepped up to provide places for him to practice his craft, even as insurance companies dragged him through a morass. “The company said they won’t insure me again because because I filed a claim on my house,” he said, bewildered. “How is that my fault?”

But he draws resilience from his recent music, which evokes the gigantic accomplishments and withering abuse Robinson faced as the first Black player in Major League Baseball. As a child in 1947, Bradford remembers listening to the moment Robinson took the field, and while he has always admired the feat, his understanding of Robinson has evolved with age.

“It was such a revelation to me as a kid, but later I was more interested in who the person was that would agree to be the sacrificial lamb,” Bradford said. “How do you turn that into flesh-and-blood music? I began to think about him being called up, with a kind of call-and-response in the music.”

The challenge Bradford gave himself — evoking Robinson’s grace on the field and fears off it — caps a long career of adapting his art form to reflect and challenge the culture around him.

With Coleman’s band in the ’50s and ’60s, and on his own formidable catalog as a bandleader, he helped pioneer free jazz, a style that subverted the studied cool of bebop with blasts of atonality and mercurial song structures. He played on Coleman’s 1972 LP “Science Fiction,” alongside Indian vocalist Asha Puthli. “Ornette played with so much raw feeling,” Bradford said. “He showed me how the same note could be completely different if you played it in a different chord. I had to learn that to play his songs.” His longstanding collaboration with clarinetist John Carter set the template for post-bop in L.A., charged with possibility but lyrical and yearning.

American jazz trumpeter Bobby Bradford performs onstage circa 1980.

(David Redfern / Redferns)

He’s equally proud of his decades in academia, introducing young students to centuries of the Black American music that culminated in jazz, and the new ways of being that emerged from it. At both Pomona College and Pasadena City College (where Robinson attended and honed his athletic prowess), Bradford helped his students inhabit the double consciousness required of Black artists to survive, invent and advance their art forms in America — from slavery’s field songs to Southern sacred music, to Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Sarah Vaughan and into the wilds of modernity.

“You always had that one kid who thinks he knows more about this than I do,” he said with a laugh. “But then you make him understand that to get to this new Black identity, you have to understand what Louis Armstrong had to overcome, how he had to perform in certain ways in front of white people, so he could create this music.”

He’s been rehearsing with a mix of older and younger local musicians at Healing Force of the Universe, a beloved Pasadena record store and venue that reminds him of the makeshift jazz club he owned near Pasadena’s Ice House in the ’70s.

Places like that are on edge in L.A. these days. Local clubs such as ETA and the Blue Whale (where Bradford recorded a live album in 2018) have closed or faced hard times postpandemic. Others, like the new Blue Note in Hollywood, have big aspirations. He’s hopeful L.A. jazz — ever an improvisational art form — will survive and thrive even after the loss of a neighborhood like Altadena displaced so many artists. “I remember someone coming into our club in the ’70s and saying he hated the music we were playing. I asked him what he didn’t like about it, and he said, ‘Well, everything.’ I told him, ‘Maybe this isn’t the place for you then,’” Bradford laughed. “You can’t live in Los Angeles without that spirit. There are always going to be new places to play.”

Bobby Bradford rehearses in Pasadena.

(Michael Rowe / For The Times)

He’s worried about the country, though, as many once-settled questions about who belongs in America are called into doubt under the current president. January’s wildfires proved to him, very intimately, that the most fixed points in one’s life and community are vulnerable.

Even Jackie Robinson, whose feats seemed an indisputable point of pride for all Americans, had his military career temporarily scrubbed from government websites in a recent purge against allegedly “woke” history.

“I thought we had rowed ourselves across the River Jordan,” Bradford said, shaking his head. “But now we’re back on the other side again. We thought we had arrived.”

Who knows how many years of performing Bradford has left. But as the sound of his melancholy horn arced through a sweltering Pasadena afternoon, one couldn’t help but be grateful to still have him here playing, even after losing everything.

“You know, in his first game, in three times at bat, Jackie Robinson didn’t get a hit,” he said. “Folks said, ‘Oh, it’s so sad. We told you he couldn’t play on a professional level.’ But when you dig into it, you discover that he didn’t get a hit at the game, but he laid down a sacrifice to score the winning run.”

When Tom and Ethel Bradley moved with their two young daughters into a modest three-bedroom home in Leimert Park in 1950, Black people were restricted from buying houses in the neighborhood. The Bradleys had to purchase the home through a white buyer likely affiliated with the American Civil Liberties Union, recalled their oldest daughter, Lorraine Bradley, who was almost 7 years old at the time.

“It was the very first time that a Black family moved into Leimert Park,” said Lorraine, explaining the immediate historic significance of the home, and adding that her parents were brave people who believed integration was essential to equality. “My parents understood the implications of that. They were willing to sacrifice themselves in many regards.”

For the first year, white children on the street wouldn’t play with Lorraine or her 5-year-old sister, but that slowly changed and the family became accepted in the neighborhood. It helped that Tom was a police officer, said Lorraine.

Tom and Ethel explained to their children that, “unless people understood and lived with you, they would only look at you racially and not as a person,” said Lorraine.

The 1,282-square-foot home — where the Bradleys lived until 1977, when Tom became the first Black mayor of Los Angeles and moved the family into the 10,000-square-foot Getty House — is among six buildings of deep importance to Black heritage in L.A. that have been designated Historic Cultural Monuments as part of a project led by the Getty in collaboration with the City of Los Angeles’ Office of Historic Resources.

“We are thrilled for everyone to recognize the courage that my parents took to move to that neighborhood,” said Lorraine. “Somebody had to, so my dad and mom decided it was them.”

The additional sites to receive landmark status are Stylesville Barbershop & Beauty Salon in Pacoima; St. Elmo Village and Jewel’s Catch One in Mid-City; the California Eagle newspaper in South L.A.; and New Bethel Baptist Church in Venice.

Jewel’s Catch One was the oldest Black-owned disco in the U.S. as well as one of the city’s first gay nightclubs to open its doors to LGBTQ+ people of color.

(Micaela Shea / J. Paul Getty Trust)

The designations are the culmination of ongoing work done by African American Historic Places, Los Angeles, which was launched by the city and Getty in 2022 with the goal of identifying, memorializing and protecting the city’s Black heritage and history.

Each site will receive its own plaque. Celebrations are set for later this month at the Bradley residence, St. Elmo Village and Jewel’s Catch One. Stylesville is planning a party for a later date.

AAHPLA hosted a kickoff event at St. Elmo Village in 2023, but work to create the project began in 2020 after the murder of George Floyd when many cultural organizations, including Getty, began reevaluating the ways they were highlighting and interacting with Black history, art and heritage, said Rita Cofield, associate project specialist at the Getty Conservation Institute and AAHPLA project leader.

St. Elmo Village in Mid-City is a thriving arts community, residence and activism hub.

(Elizabeth Daniels / J. Paul Getty Trust)

Getty soon decided to implement an initiative focused on African American heritage in L.A. and began looking for partners in the community who could help best identify each unique location.

In some cases, unless you have roots in a particular community, you won’t have the depth of understanding to realize that even though a particular building looks commonplace — or isn’t built in high architectural style — that it’s actually extremely important, said Cofield.

The plaques, in conjunction with the program, will help further establish the locations and their history in the popular imagination — and also serve to protect the sites from harm or demolition.

“If you see a plaque with the date and the importance of it, you’ll get some sense of just what this neighborhood was — what this building was or still is,” said Cofield. “So you connect with it on your own. You can investigate on your own at any time and it’s accessible.”

Stylesville Barbershop & Beauty Salon in Pacoima is the oldest Black-owned barbershop in the San Fernando Valley.

(Cassia Davis / J. Paul Getty Trust)

Angelenos and visitors to the city can now make a day out of touring the sites. In the process, they will learn about how the California Eagle — established by John J. Neimore in 1879 — was home to one of the oldest and longest-running Black-owned and operated newspapers in the country; how St. Elmo Village is still a thriving arts community and center for community activism; how Stylesville barbershop is the oldest Black-owned barbershop in the San Fernando Valley; how Jewel’s Catch One was the oldest Black-owned disco in the U.S., as well as one of the city’s first gay nightclubs to open its doors to LGBTQ+ people of color; and how the establishment of New Bethel Baptist Church marked the early days of Black migration to the Oakwood neighborhood.

Moving forward, AAHPLA will continue to seek out sites that would benefit from landmark status, while also investing in Pacoima, Oakwood and the Central Avenue corridor — famous for its vibrant jazz and music scene — in order to develop better cultural preservation strategies.

“We really want to celebrate intangible heritage too,” said Cofield. “How do we do that? Do we do it through schools, through murals? So we’re really working with those neighborhoods, to think of strategies to celebrate and highlight African American heritage.”

While most Japantowns across the country have vanished, Los Angeles is home to not just one, but two, Japanese enclaves. Most people know Little Tokyo. But on the Westside, past the 405 and tucked between strip malls and office buildings, there’s another: Sawtelle.

Smaller in footprint but steeped in history, Sawtelle reflects the legacy of Japanese immigrants — their resilience, resourcefulness and ability to reinvent. That spirit lives on in one of L.A.’s most dynamic neighborhoods today: a cultural crossroads where you can slurp the best ramen, dig into sisig, cool off with Korean soft serve, try a California roll burger or sing your heart out at karaoke until 4 a.m., all within 2.69 square miles.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

Long before Sawtelle became a hotspot for buzzy restaurants and boba shops, it was a refuge. Named after the manager of the Pacific Land Company that developed the area, Sawtelle in the early 20th century was a haven for Japanese immigrants barred from owning property or signing leases under exclusionary laws, like the 1913 California Alien Land Law. In this less developed pocket of the Westside, landowners looked the other way — allowing Japanese immigrants to carve out enough space to build new lives.

The proximity to the coast reminded them of home, mild weather and fertile soil made outdoor work a pleasure, and local Kenjinkai organizations offered vital community support. By the 1910s, Sawtelle — “so-te-ru,” as it was affectionately called — had become a magnet for Issei, or first-generation Japanese immigrants. Between 1920 and 1925, its population tripled, driven by an influx of Japanese farmers, a booming film industry and the opening of UCLA. Here, they set up nurseries and small businesses, tended gardens for wealthy Westsiders, built temples and schools and laid the groundwork for a close-knit community.

The neighborhood flourished until World War II, when residents were forced into internment camps and their lives upended. Those who returned started over, restoring what had been lost. In many ways, Sawtelle is a testament to the immigrant instinct to endure, adapt and rebuild — even with the odds stacked against them. In 2015, that resilience was officially recognized when the city named the area Sawtelle Japantown, sparking a renaissance of Japanese influence with restaurants, markets and shops celebrating Japanese culture and identity.

These days, Sawtelle’s prewar landmarks are fading, giving way to office buildings and rising commercial rent. Traci Toshiyuki Imamura, a fifth-generation Japanese American, remembers when her father’s business, Tensho Drugstore, stood at the corner of Sawtelle and Mississippi — a neighborhood fixture in the mid-1940s. Today, it’s the Furaibo restaurant.

“I miss the regular everyday people and how close people were with each other in the community,” she said. “It makes me emotional just thinking about what Sawtelle felt like to me when I was a young girl in contrast to what it is evolving to.” Now living in Torrance, Imamura serves on the Westside Community Planning Advisory Group and advocates against Sawtelle’s gentrification and upzoning.

Over the years, the neighborhood has certainly changed, and its identity has expanded beyond its Japanese roots. But you’ll still find traces of what made it special to begin with: Family-run Hashimoto Nursery and Yamaguchi Bonsai Nursery trace back to Sawtelle’s early days and serve as nods to its agricultural past. And every summer at the Obon Festival, a traditional Buddhist celebration honoring the spirits of one’s ancestors, hundreds still gather — dressed in kimono, yukata and hachimaki headbands to dance to the steady beat of taiko drums. Kids crowd around the balloon fishing pool, parents line up for takoyaki, and for a moment, the old Sawtelle feels as alive as ever.

To walk down these streets today is to experience not just what’s current, but what endures — in the smell of yakitori on the grill, the sight of bonsai trees still tended by the same families and the beat of the taiko drums that call people back, year after year. Sawtelle is a neighborhood shaped by people who made every inch count and built a community, and in a city that’s always changing, that may be the most enduring legacy of all.

Lindsay and Daniel Sheron dreamed of buying a home of their own. But in Los Angeles, where housing is expensive and in short supply — the median home price is roughly $1 million, according to Zillow — purchasing a home can be difficult for first-time homebuyers with limited equity.

So after many years of renting various homes, including a Craftsman house in Portland and, most recently, a small bungalow in Eagle Rock, the Sherons, who are both 36, reached a tipping point while searching for a house in northeast Los Angeles. They quickly realized that they couldn’t afford to live in their neighborhood.

“We weathered the pandemic in a 900-square-foot bungalow in Eagle Rock,” Lindsay, who is an architect, recalls of the house, which their landlords had listed for $900,000 before they decided to rent it out. “I thought, ‘If that’s what $900,000 gets you in Los Angeles, why don’t we look at land and see about designing and building our own house?” she adds. “Maybe we can gain more value that way.” (The bungalow sold for $1.3 million after they moved out.)

Daniel and Lindsay Sheron in the living room of their home. “We would have never been able to afford an 1,800-square-foot house,” says Lindsay.

Using Zillow, the couple scouted several hillside lots and eventually purchased a 4,300-square-foot hillside property in 2021 for $212,000. Located at the top of a small ridge at the end of a cul-de-sac in Mount Washington, the north-facing lot was on a buildable slope with lovely views of the San Gabriel Mountains. More importantly, the vacant lot had access to utilities such as electricity, gas and water, including a sewer manhole at the bottom of the property. There are many lots for sale, Lindsay notes, but many of them don’t have access or utilities.

With their entire savings invested in the land, the Sherons took a cost-saving, hands-on approach to the next step: construction. In addition to Lindsay’s design services as an architect, they decided to serve as general contractors and subcontract the major trades, including the concrete foundation, tile, framing, exterior siding and hardwood floors.

Although the architect was thrilled at the prospect of designing her own home, she had never built one before — or bought one, for that matter — which perhaps is why she could ponder the formidable tasks of securing a construction loan, deciphering Urban Forestry and municipal building codes in a neighborhood with strict development regulations, permitting the house (which took seven months with the help of an expediter) and deciphering new development fees linked to affordable housing. “Every step of approval is not straightforward,” Lindsay says. “We were on our own for all of the inspections.”

“I wanted the house to be warm,” Lindsay Sheron says of the Western hemlock paneling and House of Leon dining room table that serves as the hub of the house.

“It only worked because Lindsay knew how to do it,” says Daniel, who is a musician and, by his admission, had never used a nail gun before tackling their 1800-square-foot home project. “Because she has a background in construction administration on huge commercial projects, she had the answers when a concrete contractor had questions about what PSI [pounds per square inch] concrete to pour.”

From the outset, nature was a priority for the architect, who, like Norman Jaffe and Joseph Esherick and William Turnbull, Jr. of Sea Ranch fame, was concerned with the relationship between architecture and landscape.

Mindful of her neighbors, Lindsay devised a plan for a modern three-bedroom house that did not overwhelm the cul-de-sac: a two-story house that steps down the hill and is complemented by a pitched roof that soars parallel to the natural slope of the hillside.

Lindsay Sheron was initially nervous about designing a single-wall kitchen, but so far “there have been no issues,” she says.

“I designed the house to descend into the hill rather than being perched on top of the street,” she says. “That would have felt invasive. I wanted to bring nature in and blend into the hill as much as possible, even in an urban setting.”

The effect, Daniel says, is a sense of wonder: “It feels like you’re living inside the hill.”

Working together, the couple completed a significant portion of the work themselves, including the interior trim, and Lindsay even built a bench that doubles as the HVAC register. They also undertook extensive waterproofing on the exterior of the house and around all of the doors and windows, dug a trench for their water line and spent most weekends filling in the gaps where labor was lacking. When Tropical Storm Hilary marched through Southern California in August 2023, they crawled on top the house and frantically covered the framing with 100-foot-long tarps.

“That was stressful,” Lindsay says with a sigh. “If we had a crew, we could have asked them to help.”

Daniel Sheron waterproofs the exterior of the house above the living room.

(Lindsay Sheron)

Daniel Sheron and a friend install interior Hemlock paneling, above. Lindsay Sheron waterproofs windows in 2023, below. (Photos from Lindsay Sheron)

There were other unexpected fees. When all was said and done, the couple paid the city more than $80,000, with some fees meant to stymie new home development , even as there were discounts for accessory dwelling units, or ADUs. If they had added an ADU, the calculation for one fee would have been $1.08 per square foot rather than $8.30 per square foot, they later learned. “If I had known the difference would have been $2,000 versus $23,000, I might had added an ADU,” Lindsay says now of the attached studio they installed at the front of the house alongside the carport.

Similarly, when they went to obtain their Certificate of Occupancy last December, they learned they owed a parks and recreation mitigation fee — a payment that would go toward “improving park and recreational facilities for new residents,” according to the city website. “We were tapped out at that point,” Daniel says. “We had to pay $8,000 or they wouldn’t issue us the certificate.” They put it on a credit card.

Three years and more than a few hassles later, the couple has a finished home that is a testament to their perseverance. Walk past the carport, which was influenced by Buff, Straub & Hensman’s historic Poppy Peak neighborhood in Pasadena, and a path gently curves around the side of the house to the front door, which opens to a central stairway with breathtaking views that connects the upper and lower levels. Two bedrooms are located on the top floor, while the stairway descends to the living room, dining area and kitchen, all of which are designed to be loftlike, creating an open floor plan bathed with natural light.

The primary bedroom on the ground floor.

“We say this is a house with no hallways,” Lindsay says of her efficient space planning. “You circulate in a connected space. The stairs are connected to the space; the hallway to the bedrooms is connected.”

The larger living areas are neutral, with warm oak floors and exposed Douglas fir beams that are accented with bold moments. The kitchen is a standout, featuring bright green custom kitchen cabinets painted “Raw Tomatillo” by Farrow & Ball, which add vitality to the single-wall layout. A custom metal hood by Practice Fabrication, powder-coated the color of a Pixie tangerine, adds a sense of fun.

“I wanted our house to feel really warm and bring nature inside,” says Lindsay, referring to the Western hemlock tongue and groove planks that she and Daniel installed on the walls and ceilings. “Wood does the heavy lifting in accomplishing that.”

Lindsay Sheron wanted the main rooms to be warm and neutral with bold moments of color throughout the house, including the bathrooms and kitchen.

The exterior of the house, which is clad in shou sugi ban charred wood siding from Nakamoto Forestry, was a priority for the architect but a mystery for the subcontractors. “Everyone presumed we were going to add stucco,” she says, “because that’s what everyone else does.”

She created a small mock-up to illustrate the rainscreen infrastructure system, which offers both fireproofing and insulation benefits. “It’s like putting a down jacket on your house,” Lindsay explains. “It’s a sustainable way to build out your exterior, providing more thermal insulation and allowing your siding to dry. It’s not attached to sheeting so it can breathe thanks to an air gap behind it.”

Toward the end of construction, when they could no longer afford their rent, the couple stayed in a friend’s spare room for four months. Then last April, once floors and drywall were installed, they moved into the house and showered at the gym. “We were squatting in our own house,” adds Daniel, who says he listened to island exotica music while working on carpentry projects late at night to help combat the stress. “I’d fill the house with the dulcet tones of Les Baxter,” he says, smiling.

Lindsay Sheron designed the house to step down the hill.

(Dylan Corr)

The home’s exterior before siding in the early months of 2024.

(Lindsay Sheron)

Looking back, the couple says the most challenging part of the process was that everything started and stopped with them. “We did not have a third person where we could say, ‘Hey, can you go do this?’” Lindsay says. “So many times I wished we could make a to-do list and give it to someone.”

“There was no one to fill in besides us,” adds Daniel, who is now working as a project manager for a residential contractor in the Pacific Palisades. “When the city wouldn’t approve the permit for their driveway, he drove to Norwalk and consulted property records on microfilm to try to determine the history of the shared driveway.

“We could have written a show about the experience,” Lindsay says, to which her husband responded, “It would be a comedy of errors.”

It also taught them a new level of collaboration.

Lindsay Sheron designed a stylish bench for the entryway that hides the HVAC system.

“We had never collaborated on anything to that extent,” says Lindsay. “I’m an architect. He’s a musician. We’re very different, but I relied on him a lot. He was freelance and could be at the house a lot more while I worked full time, so he would call me with questions or he would send me a picture and I would sketch on top of the photo.”

“I gained a deeper appreciation for Lindsay’s iterative approach,” Daniel says.

Longtime friend Nicolas Sohl, who attended Middlebury College with Daniel, remembers walking the boundary lines with the couple after they first purchased the land.

“Their love for each other is evident in the attention to detail in the home they chose to build together,” he says. “They saw it as an opportunity not only to advance their careers but create lasting friendships in their neighborhood.”

Inspired by rustic homes that connect to the landscape, such as Sea Ranch along the coast of Sonoma County, Lindsay Sheron used shou sugi ban charred wood siding from Nakamoto Forestry.

Though their goal was to build the home for under $1 million, in the end, they borrowed a little over that amount. Even so, they estimate they built their house for approximately 45% less than what a similar home would cost. They have seen three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bathroom homes on comparable lots in their neighborhood sell for around $2 million.

On New Year’s Eve, the couple put aside their power tools and opened their home to 30 of their friends. Celebratory champagne flowed freely and thanks to the home’s open floor plan, dancing spilled into the kitchen.

Such joyful moments are especially meaningful after three years spent working as general contractors.

“Our friends say we seem way more at ease now,” Lindsay says.

Since finishing their home, the Sherons have opened their door to celebrate with friends.

This week, reality TV show star Spencer Pratt posted multiple videos on social media savaging a proposed state bill on wildfire rebuilding. In one, Pratt told his 2 million TikTok followers that he consulted an artificial intelligence engine about Senate Bill 549. He said it told him the legislation would allow L.A. County to buy burned-out lots in Pacific Palisades and convert them to low-income housing, strip away local zoning decisions and push dense reconstruction. He urged people to oppose it.

“I don’t even think this is political,” Pratt said. “This is a common sense post.”

None of what Pratt said is in the bill. But over the last week, such misinformation-fueled furor has overwhelmed the conversation in Los Angeles, at the state Capitol and on social media about wildfire recovery. Posts have preyed on fears of neighborhood change, mistrust of government authorities and prejudice against low-income housing to assert, among other things, that the wildfires were set intentionally to raze the Palisades and replace the community with affordable housing.

The chatter has unmoored debate over a major rebuilding proposal from L.A. County leaders. Under the plan, a new local authority would be able to buy burned lots, rebuild homes and offer them back at discounted rates to the original owners. The idea is to give property owners struggling to rebuild another option to stay in their communities. There are no changes to any rules that require zoning amendments or approvals for individual housing developments.

State Sen. Benjamin Allen (D-Santa Monica), the author of SB 549, which creates the local authority, said he understands legitimate policy disagreements over the new powers granted in the bill.

But those discussions have been overshadowed, he said.

“It’s become this total meme among the right-wing blogosphere and, unfortunately, picked up by some lazy-ass journalists that don’t bother to read the bill that say this bill seeks to turn the entire Palisades into low-income housing,” Allen said.

Some of his own friends who lost homes in the Palisades, Allen said, have been texting him asking why he’s trying to force low-income housing into the neighborhood.

“People are saying I want to put a train line in there,” Allen said. “It’s insane.”

The frenzy, in part, is due to an issue of timing. Last month, a 20-member expert commission impaneled by L.A. County proposed the local authority as a key recommendation for rebuilding after January’s Palisades and Eaton fires destroyed 18,000 homes and other properties.

Commission leaders then approached Allen about writing a bill that would allow for its implementation. Allen wanted to do it, but deadlines for introducing new legislation had long passed.

Instead, Allen took SB 549, which had nothing to do with wildfire rebuilding but was still alive in the Legislature, and added the rebuilding authority language to it. This is a common legislative procedure used when putting forward ideas late in the year.

Allen decided as well to keep the original language in the bill, which called for significant spending on low-income housing in an unrelated financing program. Multiple news articles conflated the two portions of the bill, which added to the alarm.

The version of SB 549 with the wildfire rebuilding authority in it had its first hearing in a legislative committee on Wednesday. Allen spent much of the hearing acknowledging the confusion around it.

Misinformation over the rebuilding authority was fueled by a separate announcement California Gov. Gavin Newsom made this month.

State housing officials carved out $101 million from long-planned funding allocations for low-income housing and dedicated it to building new developments in Los Angeles.

The money will be used to subsidize low-income apartment buildings throughout the county with priority given to projects proposed in and around burn zones, that are willing to reserve a portion to fire survivors and are close to breaking ground.

The fires exacerbated the region’s housing crisis. Higher rents persist in nearby neighborhoods and low-income residents continue to struggle. Newsom cast the announcement as assisting them in regaining their footing.

“Thousands of families — from Pacific Palisades to Altadena to Malibu — are still displaced and we owe it to them to help,” Newsom said when unveiling the spending.

Like the proposed rebuilding authority, the funding does not change any zoning or other land-use rules. Any developer who receives the dollars would need separate governmental approval to begin construction.

Nevertheless, social media posters took the new money and the proposed new authority and saw a conspiracy.

“Burn it. Buy it. Rebuild it how they want,” said a July 15 post from X user @HustleBitch_, who has nearly 124,000 followers. “Still think this wasn’t planned?

Newsom called the situation another example of “opportunists exploit[ing] this tragedy to stoke fear — and pit communities against each other.”

“Let’s be clear: The state is not taking away anyone’s property, instituting some sort of mass rezoning or destroying the quality and character of destroyed neighborhoods. Period,” Newsom said in a statement to The Times. “Anyone claiming otherwise is either misinformed or deliberately lying. That’s not just wrong — it’s disgraceful.”

Not all of the debate about the rebuilding authority is based on false information.

Allen and local leaders acknowledged the need for more consensus over its role, especially given the sensitivities around recovery. Still unresolved were the authority’s governing structure, and whether it would encompass the Palisades or be limited to Altadena and other unincorporated areas.

Pratt lost his Palisades home in the fire and has sued the city, alleging it failed to maintain an adequate water supply and other infrastructure. In social media videos this week, Pratt said he and other residents didn’t trust the county with increased power over rebuilding when he believed leaders failed to protect the neighborhood in the first place.

“We’re a fire-stricken community, not a policy sandbox,” Pratt said. “We do not support the county becoming a dominant landowner in the Palisades.”

Representatives for Pratt could not be reached for comment.

By the end of Wednesday, Allen conceded defeat on SB 549. There were many legitimate hurdles to the bill passing before the Legislature adjourns in mid-September, he said. Notably, a representative for Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass told the legislative committee that she was opposed to the bill because the city had yet to be convinced of its efficacy.

But the misinformation surrounding the bill made it even harder to envision its success, he said. Allen decided to hold the bill and have it reconsidered when the Legislature convenes again in January.

“If we’re going to do this, I want the time to do it right,” he said.

Critic Bethanne Patrick recommends 10 promising titles, fiction and nonfiction, to consider for your July reading list.

It’s officially beach-reads season: Whether you do your reading outdoors or inside in air-conditioned comfort, July’s hot new releases will help you stay cool. Topics range from analog memories of Golden Age Hollywood to a maverick female athlete. Happy reading!

FICTION

In Pursuit of Beauty: A Novel
By Gary Baum
Blackstone: 256 pages, $29
(July 1)

Baum, a journalist for the Hollywood Reporter, draws on knowledge he has gleaned about cosmetic surgery, the profession of his protagonist, Dr. Roya Delshad. Dr. Delshad, who is multiracial and once supposedly plain, remakes herself into a glorious bombshell — but then lands in prison. She’s agreed to consider interviews with a ghostwriter named Wes Easton, who will soon discover why she’s called “the Robin Hood of Roxbury Drive.”

Typewriter Beach: A Novel
By Meg Waite Clayton
Harper: 320 pages, $30
(July 1)

Like the carriage of a well-oiled Olivetti, this novel moves between Carmel and Hollywood, in two different centuries, with ease. In 1957, actress Isabella Giori hopes to land a career-making role in a Hitchcock film; when her circumstances change and she winds up secluded in a tiny cottage in Carmel-on-the-Sea, a blacklisted emigre screenwriter named Léon Chazan saves her. In 2018, his screenwriter granddaughter finally learns how and why.

Vera, or Faith: A Novel
By Gary Shteyngart
Random House: 256 pages, $28
(July 8)

Vera, the child narrator of this wry and relevant new novel from Shteyngart (“Our Country Friends”), brings a half-Korean heritage to the Russian-Jewish-WASP Bradford-Shmulkin family. Between Daddy, Anne Mom, and her longing for her unknown bio Mom Mom, Vera has a lot to handle, while all she really wants is to help her dad and stepmom stay married — and to make a friend at school. It’s a must-read.

Mendell Station: A Novel
By J. B. Hwang
Bloomsbury: 208 pages, $27
(July 22)

In the wake of her best friend Esther’s 2020 death, Miriam loses faith in almost everything, including the God that made her job teaching Christian scripture at a San Francisco private school bearable. She quits and takes a job as a mail carrier (as the author also did), not only finding moments of grace from neighborhood to neighborhood but also writing letters to Esther in an effort to understand the childhood difficulties that bonded them.

Necessary Fiction: A Novel
By Eloghosa Osunde
Riverhead: 320 pages, $28
(July 22)

The title tells so much about how queer people must live in Nigeria, and so does the structure: Osunde (“Vagabonds!”) calls it a novel, although its chapters read more like short stories. If it doesn’t hang together like a traditional novel, that may be part of the point. Characters like May, struggling with gender identity, or Ziz, a gay man in Lagos, know that their identities don’t always hang together in traditional ways — and that’s definitely the point.

NONFICTION

The CIA Book Club: The Secret Mission to Win the Cold War With Forbidden Literature
By Charlie English
Random House: 384 pages, $35
(July 1)

Decades of Cold War espionage between the United States and the Soviet Union included programs that leveraged cultural media. The Central Intelligence Agency’s Manhattan-based “book club” office was run by an emigre from Romania named George Midden, who managed to send 10 million books behind the Iron Curtain. Some of them were serious tomes, yes, but there were Agatha Christie novels, Orwell’s “1984” and art books too.

The Hiroshima Men: The Quest to Build the Atomic Bomb, and the Fateful Decision to Use It
By Iain MacGregor
Scribner: 384 pages, $32
(July 8)

Crucially, MacGregor’s painstakingly researched history of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan at the end of World War II includes Japanese perspectives. The historian (“Checkpoint Charlie”) treats the atomic bomb more as a weapon of mass murder and less as a scientific breakthrough, while managing to convey the urgency behind its development for the Allied forces.

On Her Game: Caitlin Clark and the Revolution in Women’s Sports
By Christine Brennan
Scribner: 272 pages, $30
(July 8)

Let this sink in (basketball pun very much intended): Caitlin Clark has scored more points than any player in major college basketball history. Not just the female players — the male players too. Now that she’s in the WNBA as a rookie for the Indiana Fever, Clark is attracting the kind of fan base once reserved for male basketball stars like Michael Jordan and LeBron James. Brennan’s longtime coverage of Clark’s career makes this book a slam dunk.

Strata: Stories From Deep Time
By Laura Poppick
W. W. Norton & Co.: 288 pages, $30
(July 15)

Each stratum, or layer, of our planet tells a story. Science writer Poppick explains what those millions of strata can tell us about four instances that changed life dramatically, from oxygen entering the atmosphere all the way to the dinosaur era. Ultimately, she argues that these strata show us that when stressed, the earth reacts by changing and moving toward stability. It’s a fascinating peek into the globe’s core that might offer clues about sustainability.

The Feather Detective: Mystery, Mayhem, and the Magnificent Life of Roxie Laybourne
By Chris Sweeney
Avid Reader Press: 320 pages, $30
(July 22)

The once-unassuming Roxie Laybourne became the world’s first forensic ornithologist in 1960, when the FAA asked the Smithsonian — where Laybourne was an avian taxidermist — to help them identify shredded feathers from a fatal airplane crash in Boston. She analyzed specimens that contributed to arrests in racial attacks, as well as in catching game poachers and preventing deaths of fighter pilots. In her way, Laybourne was a badass.

An independent commission is urging the California Legislature to establish a new local authority to oversee and coordinate rebuilding after the most destructive fires in Los Angeles County history.

The call for state legislation to create the new rebuilding authority is one of the top proposals of the 20-member Blue Ribbon Commission on Climate Action and Fire-Safe Recovery, which on Friday issued its final recommendations.

Commission members said the new entity would be critical to manage the monumental rebuilding efforts after the January firestorms, which claimed at least 29 lives and destroyed 18,000 homes and other properties.

“The severity of the situation needs extraordinary measures. Business as usual just won’t work,” said Cecilia Estolano, a commission member and former CEO of the Los Angeles Community Redevelopment Agency.

The commission said the proposed Resilient Rebuilding Authority would streamline complex recovery efforts and prioritize the return of residents and businesses as neighborhoods are rebuilt in Altadena and Pacific Palisades.

The authority would use tax-increment financing and other funding sources to buy fire-razed lots that property owners want to sell and guide the rebuilding process — selecting developers and coordinating construction at scale. Those displaced by the fires would get first priority for the new homes.

The commission’s members said this would bring a coordinated approach, avoiding a free-for-all in which investors snap up properties and make new homes unaffordable for displaced people. The authority, the report said, is “designed to counterbalance the forces that drive displacement and inequality in the aftermath of disasters.”

“Left to business as usual, you will see this being driven by land speculation,” Estolano said. The aim is “a more balanced rebuilding, rather than one that’s purely determined by the marketplace.”

Under the commission’s recommendation, the Resilient Rebuilding Authority would be led by a board with members appointed by the governor, state lawmakers and local governments, and with citizen advisory boards providing guidance.

The commission also proposed asking voters to approve a ballot measure to create a new Los Angeles County Fire Control District, funded through a property tax, to focus on wildfire prevention, vegetation management and other efforts to reduce fire risks.

The panel said a property tax or fee, which would require voter approval, could either be assessed on properties in a certain area, or could be assessed county-wide, with higher fees in areas facing high fire hazards that require more investments.

The new district would be charged with creating and maintaining “greenspace buffer zones” between homes and open lands, and taking other measures to safeguard fire-vulnerable neighborhoods.

In all, the commission presented more than 50 recommendations, with a focus on rebuilding after the Palisades and Eaton fires in ways that prepare neighborhoods to better withstand intense wildfires worsened by climate change, and that also help address global warming by encouraging construction of all-electric homes.

The panel said L.A. County should fast-track permitting for all-electric homes, and the state should provide incentives to encourage electrification and solar power. The commission’s report says the new authority should “advance resilience and clean energy objectives.”

The Blue Ribbon Commission was formed by Los Angeles County Supervisor Lindsey Horvath and includes representatives of businesses, local government, civic organizations and environmental groups.

“Key strategies like defensible space, solar with battery backup, and all-electric construction don’t just safeguard homes — they cut costs and protect our environment,” Horvath said, adding that the panel’s proposals lay the groundwork for a “climate-smart, fire-safe future.”

The commission, which had presented its initial proposals in May, said in its report that the fires represented one of the costliest climate disasters in U.S. history and a “harbinger of future risks facing the region in terms of extreme drought, weather, heat, and fire.”

The commission said its goal is to “enable communities to rise out of the ashes stronger.”

“Bold, coordinated action is needed to counter the risks of displacement, rising insurance costs, and deepening community vulnerability to future climate events,” the commission’s report says. “By acting decisively, Greater Los Angeles can become a model for climate-resilient, equitable recovery.”

Some of the commission’s other recommendations include changes such as:

• expanding the federal government’s fire debris removal program;
• standardizing soil testing and cleanup;
• ensuring that construction meets “fire-hardened” building standards and that building codes maximize spacing between buildings;
• creating “buffer zones” with appropriate vegetation to reduce fire risks;
• prioritizing additional water storage capacity in neighborhoods, and systems with external sprinklers to douse homes, parks and schools;
• and creating a voluntary program to “shift development from high-risk, constrained, or uninsurable parcels to more suitable sites.”

Some of these steps can be taken by city or county leaders, utilities or other entities.

Matt Petersen, the commission’s chair and chief executive of Los Angeles Cleantech Incubator, which works with startups to promote renewable energy, said the enormous task of rebuilding demands “additional resources and coordination and economies of scale that we think can only come through this authority.”

Similar development authorities have been set up to oversee rebuilding in areas devastated by other major disasters, such as the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, the 1994 Northridge earthquake, the 9/11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina.

More than 40 academic experts from UCLA provided support to the commission, advising members on recovery and rebuilding after disasters.

“Without intentional, deliberate leadership by government, and by government that’s accountable to the communities, an unmanaged recovery process will only widen disparities,” said Megan Mullin, faculty director of the UCLA Luskin Center for Innovation, who led the university team. “That is seen over and over again through disaster recovery processes.”

Mullin said with strong guidance, government can streamline rebuilding in a way “that makes these communities more fire-safe, more climate-resilient.”

“We cannot ignore the importance of climate change in driving this growing fire hazard that’s looming for the Los Angeles region, and actually throughout the Southwest,” she said. “We can make it as easy as possible for people to rebuild, but to rebuild in a way that will leave them more protected going forward.”

Estolano, the former L.A. redevelopment chief, was displaced from her home in Altadena by the Eaton fire. The home, which she had rented, was damaged by the fire and smoke, and she moved to Los Feliz.

“What I loved most about that community is that it was a mix of incomes. It was a vibrant place with a lot of local commerce,” she said.

She said unless a rebuilding authority is established that can buy properties and hold down land values, that sort of community won’t come back.

“The authority could enable a fair price and give these folks a chance as their first look to return back to what homes will be rebuilt,” she said. “And that will not happen without an authority.”

The commission also called for the city, county and state to work with the new authority to launch a campaign to secure philanthropic contributions to support rebuilding, aiming to raise $200 million over the next 1-2 years, and to help leverage additional financial resources.

LITTLE TOKYO — On a Tuesday morning on downtown Los Angeles’ 1st Street, the immigrants are out in force.

I mean, they are everywhere: Sweeping, scrubbing graffiti off walls, opening their shops, grabbing lattes on the way to work.

Send in the Marines!

Here in the heart of Little Tokyo, where immigration protesters swept through Monday night, it’s the white faces that stand out — the way it has been for decades all over downtown. With its gritty streets and sometimes gritty history, these urban blocks with their cheaper rents and welcoming enclaves have long been where people migrate when they cross borders into the United States.

Which — though I certainly don’t want to speculate on the inner workings of Stephen Miller’s brain — probably means blocks like this one were on President Trump immigration czar’s mind when he posted this on social media: “[H]uge swaths of the city where I was born now resemble failed third world nations. A ruptured, balkanized society of strangers.”

“Eddie” lives in Little Tokyo and helped clean up after immigration protests in Little Tokyo on Tuesday. He holds Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals status and said he is afraid to go to the protests for fear he could be deported for doing so. Cleaning up, he said, is his way of participating.

(Anita Chabria / Los Angeles Times)

That, “Eddie” told me, is bunk. Eddie is a “Dreamer,” with semi-legal status through the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, who emigrated from Mexico as a kid and didn’t want to share his last name because he fears the current immigration sweeps. For the past two years, he’s lived in an upstairs apartment that overlooks this block of hotels, boutiques and restaurants. I met him on the sidewalk in front of his place, his palms stained black with soot from picking up burned lights and banners from the night before.

Eddie, who dreams about someday running for public office, said people such as himself are in “a very vulnerable” situation right now, so though he’s always been involved in civic issues, he doesn’t feel safe going to protests that have turned downtown Los Angeles into a national spectacle, and have offered President Trump an excuse to flout law and history by calling in the military.

Instead, Eddie is cleaning up — because he doesn’t want people to drive by and think this neighborhood is a mess.

“It’s not representative, you know,” he says of the charred heap in front of him. “So I’m out here.”

Eddie said he loves it here, because “it’s one of the few communities where, like, it’s close knit. I see people that I’m for sure were here in 1945 and I love them, and I know that they know of my existence, and I’m thankful for theirs.”

Before we can talk much more, we’re interrupted by Alex Gerwer, a Long Beach resident who has come out for the day to help scrub away the graffiti that some rogue protesters left behind.

Folks, not going to lie, “F— ICE” is everywhere. I mean, everywhere — there’s got to be a spray paint shortage at this point.”

Gerwer, the son of two concentration camp survivors, is here with the political group 5051, which has been staging anti-Trump rallies across the country. Gerwer said he and his group decided they wanted to do something more proactive than just protest, so here they are.

“We want to clean that off and show Trump, the National Guard, you know the folks from the Marines, that this is clearly political theater,” Gerwer said. “And I feel sorry for all these law enforcement people, because many of them, they’re in a position where they’re being put between the Constitution and a tyrannical president.”

Misael Santos, a manager at a ramen restaurant in Little Tokyo, said that most of the restaurants in the neighborhood hire immigrant workers because “they know immigrants work hard.”

(Anita Chabria / Los Angeles Times)

Down the block, I met Misael Santos in front of the ramen restaurant where he works as a manager. He was asking the folks at the Japanese American National Museum on the corner whether they had any surveillance footage, because lights and a tent had been stolen off the restaurant’s patio the night before. They didn’t.

Santos, a Mexican immigrant, told me he didn’t like the stealing and vandalism.

“I understand the protests, but that is no excuse to destroy public property,” he said.

Earlier, Mayor Karen Bass had tweeted, “Let me be clear: ANYONE who vandalized Downtown or looted stores does not care about our immigrant communities,” and Santos agreed with that.

“Immigrants work hard,” he told me. Which is why, he said, many of the Asian-owned business around here hire Latinos.

He said that this neighborhood, with its mix of ethnicities, is “comfortable and safe,” but lately, his employees are also fearful. They don’t want to come to work because they fear raids, but “we have to work,” he said with a resigned shrug.

But let me get back to Stephen Miller, since he’s driving a lot of this chaos. Replying to Bass’ tweet about vandals, Miller said on social media, “By ‘immigrant communities,’ Mayor Bass actually means ‘illegal alien communities.’ She is demonstrating again her sole objective here is to shield illegals from deportation, at any cost.”

William T Fujioka, chair of the Board of Trustees of the Japanese American National Museum, worked with volunteers to remove graffiti after some protesters defaced the building in Little Tokyo.

(Anita Chabria/Los Angeles Times)

That kind of rhetoric hearkens to the dark days of this neighborhood, William T Fujioka, chair of the Board of Trustees of the Japanese American National Museum, told me, when I finally made it down to his patch of this neighborhood.

Fujioka and I talked in the plaza where buses pulled up after the bombing of Pearl Harbor to transport Japanese Americans to prison camps. His own grandfather, he said, was imprisoned in such a camp.

Protesters had defaced the museum, a nearby Buddhist temple and a public art sculpture called the OOMA cube, meant to symbolize human oneness. Fujioka called the vandalism “heartbreaking,” but also said it was not representative of most protesters.

“We’re strong supporters of peaceful protests and also immigration rights because of what happened to our community,” he told me. “Our community is a community of immigrants.”

Fujioka told me how one of his grandfathers immigrated legally in 1905, but the other wasn’t so lucky. They wouldn’t let him land in L.A., he said, so he “was dropped off in Mexico and crossed the Rio Grande. He walked from Mexico with 300 other men up to Texas, across the Rio Grande and New Mexico, Arizona and California.”

Fujioka grew up not far from this plaza in Boyle Heights, were so many people with journeys similar to that of his grandfather wind up, then and now. Boyle Heights, he said, “is the ultimate melting pot. In Boyle Heights before the war, you had Japanese, Latinos, African Americans, you had Jews, you had Italians, and you had Russians who fled communist Russia. And we all grew up together, and we didn’t care who anyone was. All we cared about is, if you’re from the neighborhood.”

Just behind Fujioka, I saw that Gerwer had found his group and was busy scrubbing the museum’s windows. One of those with him, S.A. Griffin, had been at the protests downtown this week. He said they were mostly peaceful, except for the “idiots” who covered their faces and incited violence as the sun went down.

“It’s the vampires that come out at night,” Griffin said. And that’s really the all of it. There will always be agitators, especially at night.

But daylight brings clarity.

Indigo Rosen-Lopez, left, Maruko Bridgewater and Colin McQuade walk through Little Tokyo on Tuesday, the morning after immigration protests. Rosen-Lopez and McQuade are half brothers and Bridgewater is their grandmother’s best friend.

(Anita Chabria / Los Angeles Times)

Across the street, I met 88-year-old Maruko Bridgewater, walking with half brothers Colin McQuade and Indigo Rosen-Lopez. The men consider Bridgewater their grandmother, though she’s really their maternal grandmother’s best friend.

They were walking Bridgewater back to her nearby apartment and said they were worried about her during the protests and even in the aftermath — she had just stepped over broken glass from a nearby shop.

“It’s really scary to see her walk around by herself,” McQuade told me.

These “grandkids” may worry, but let me tell you, may the Lord above make me half as sharp and stylish as Bridgewater at that age. She came to the United States through New York in 1976. I asked her whether she liked Trump’s crackdown on immigrants and she told me, “Not really, but not Biden either.”

But this trio, walking on a clear June morning when the gloom has burned away, are everything that is good and right with immigrant communities. Between the three, they represent Hungarian, Bulgarian, Native American, Irish, Scottish and Japanese.

McQuade told me that his grandparents met during World War II.

“Literally, like, in the middle of the biggest war between America and Japan, my grandparents found each other, and they fell in love, and they … created a life for us from literally nothing,” he said.

That is downtown Los Angeles, where immigrants come to build a life. If that looks like the third world nightmare to some, it’s because they are blind to what they are seeing.

Often overshadowed by its neighbors with glitzier landmarks — namely Burbank and Pasadena — Glendale gets an unfair rap as being suburban and drab. Many Angelenos (especially those on the Westside) know it primarily for its massive malls: the Glendale Galleria and oft-meme’d Americana at Brand.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

While its retail landscape is certainly impressive, that’s just the tip of the iceberg of this 30-square-mile city that traverses two mountain ranges and boasts dozens of historic buildings and more than 50 parks. Visit one small corner of this century-old city and your main takeaway might be the preponderance of Armenian bakeries, kebab joints and hookah bars. For a more bohemian, historic take on Glendale, visit Adams Square, where storybook Tudor houses proliferate and a queer community flourishes. At Adams Square Mini-Park, once a gas station, find a public art gallery inside an old service building and nearby crosswalks that have been painted vibrant colors as a way to increase pedestrian visibility and celebrate the local community.

Vintage period revival mansions on enviously large plots of land can be found in Glendale’s higher elevation communities, like Chevy Chase Canyon or El Miradero, situated below the 31-acre Brand Park. Plenty of historic Queen Anne-Eastlake Victorian homes dating to the 1870s to 1890s are also still standing. Some of these older buildings — like a turn-of-the-century Moorish mansion and an old winery barn — now serve as museums, public libraries and nature centers.

While there is plenty of new development — think high-rise condominiums, strip malls, big-box stores and expanded transportation routes — Glendale actively balances preserving its historic sites while promoting change. Take, for instance, Brand Boulevard, the heart of downtown Glendale. It’s a dynamic mix of new retailers, multicultural restaurants and landmark businesses like the 100-year-old Alex Theatre and a corset shop that has been in the same location since 1922.

And the transformation of the city goes even further.

While Glendale once bore the unfortunate reputation of being a mid-20th-century “sundown town,” it has since evolved into a vibrant melting pot. Today, it is home to large communities of Armenians, Latinos, Koreans, Filipinos and Persians. In a significant step toward reconciliation, Glendale became the first city in California — and the third in the nation — to formally apologize for its racist past.

Whichever analogy you choose — a Rubik’s cube, an onion — Glendale is one of the more fickle SoCal destinations that takes time to get to know. There are pockets of funk, beauty and culture — a neon museum, a retro roller rink, a progressive art museum at the top of a cemetery. Glendale also produced numerous Hollywood greats, like John Wayne, Eva Mendes and Paul Walker, and serves as the final resting spot of even larger luminaries, such as Walt Disney, Elizabeth Taylor and Michael Jackson.

Here’s where to go to get the best representation of this oft-misunderstood place that is actually, to name-drop its century-old moniker, a “jewel” of a city.