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Michael Tilson Thomas came onto the scene as a great hope for classical music, American music, Los Angeles music, modern music, multifaceted pop music, maverick music, Russian music, Broadway music and just plain music, whatever it might be and from wherever it might be found. He lived his 81 years as conductor, pianist, composer, educator and media personality promoting that hope, and died Wednesday having shown how hope is done. He looked ahead. He looked back. Yet he lived for the now.

It wasn’t always easy. He wasn’t, to say the least, always easy. But MTT made music matter by making hope matter. He was, moreover, one of us. He achieved greatness though an epic amplification of a uniquely L.A. positivity in which grumpy became wistful.

I first encountered MTT as a kid clarinetist and he, Michael Thomas back then, a student conductor at USC and already, at 19, music director of the Young Musicians Foundation Debut Orchestra. He was soon everywhere. A piano prodigy, he regularly performed (and hobnobbed) with the likes of Stravinsky, Copland, Boulez and Cage at Monday Evening Concerts programs when the Los Angeles County Museum of Art opened in 1965. That summer, he appeared at the Ojai Music Festival, which he would go on to lead as music director seven times.

MTT liked to describe his L.A. youth as driving from Jascha Heifetz’s house in the Hollywood Hills (where he accompanied the famed Russian violinist in classes) to LACMA to rehearse Ives and Renaissance music, to composition and conducting classes at USC. Then it was home to the San Fernando Valley to practice Beethoven.

All the while, he listened to the hip L.A. 1960s pop music stations on his car radio. He was particularly keen on, and became friends with, Chuck Berry. Home was where he would also encounter screen legends. Tilson Thomas’ father worked in films and television as a screenwriter, producer and dialogue coach. Theodor Thomas was, as well, a painter with a visionary sensibility and a pianist, self-taught other than a handful of lessons from Gershwin.

But it was Tilson Thomas’ mother and grandmother who may have had the biggest influence. His mother was a public school teacher. She instilled what became a key trait in her only child, who treated conducting as an exercise in learning both for the musicians and the audience (if not for him, because he basically knew it all). His grandmother, Bessie Thomashefsky and her husband, Boris, were stars of Yiddish theater on New York’s Lower East Side.

Boris died in 1939, five years before MTT was born. But Bessie and young Michael were close. She recognized that, like her, he was born for the stage, and regaled him with stage lore that put the stardust in his eyes. As a young kid, MTT played Beethoven piano sonatas so impressively that he wowed his babysitter, an architecture student at USC named Frank Owen Goldberg, who needed extra cash.

Frank Gehry, as he became, told me that MTT was already an entrancing showman. The two remained lifelong friends.

While MTT did not actually reside in L.A. for most of his life, he never really left it. It prepared him for all that was to follow. In high school, he met Joshua Robison, who became his lifelong partner and ultimately husband. Whether in New York, Miami, London or San Francisco, wherever they lived, they always talked about L.A. His father’s paintings were on the walls, as were Boris’ Yiddish theater posters, one proclaiming “King Lear,” translated and improved.

The Tilson Thomas package that emerged from L.A. was unlike any conductor the world had seen. He doted on the music of Rachmaninoff when Rachmaninoff was unfashionable and on Steve Reich when Reich was found unfathomable. He adopted classical music’s neglected outsiders and especially such key West Coast “mavericks” as Lou Harrison and Henry Cowell. He convinced Meredith Monk to write for orchestra and enticed everyone from Sarah Vaughan to the Mahavishnu Orchestra onto the symphony stage.

Studying at Tanglewood, the Boston Symphony’s summer home, MTT won the Koussevitzky Prize in 1969 and, with the encouragement of Leonard Bernstein, was appointed assistant conductor to music director William Steinberg. Before long, MTT became principal guest conductor, filling in frequently for Steinberg, who was in poor health.

MTT in his early 20s was vibrant, arrogant, fearless, full of ideas, a chance taker. Ever the Angeleno, he tooled around town in a Porsche. He talked to staid symphony musicians and audiences who didn’t want to be talked to and often played music they didn’t want to play or hear. And he dazzled them. He got a contract with the distinguished German record label Deutsche Grammophon and made exciting records with the orchestra of Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Ives and modern Americans. They remain a thrill to hear.

By 1974, it was Tchaikovsky one moment and a wonderfully crazy avant-garde opera the next. Stanley Silverman’s “Elephant Steps,” which MTT recorded in 1974, was for pop singers, opera singers, orchestra, rock band, electronic tape, raga group, gypsy ensemble and, of course, elephants. Richard Foreman wrote the libretto. There had been nothing like it then or since. A revival could prove a sensation. The Olympic arts festival, anyone?

At the same time, Tilson Thomas, who proved a born educator, succeeded Bernstein in delivering the New York Philharmonic’s Young People’s Concerts. When Steinberg left, the Boston Symphony Orchestra passed over MTT as too young (24) and not ready (he wasn’t, nor was Boston). He was just right, though, for the Buffalo Philharmonic, which he led from 1971 to 1979. It was a wild ride, with lots of exciting new music and no small amount of controversy — arresting performances of arresting new works (Morton Feldman in particular) and an actual arrest at Kennedy International Airport when small quantities of cocaine, marijuana and amphetamines were found in his luggage.

He may have seemed ready for a homecoming in 1981, but MTT’s appointment as principal guest conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic did not prove to be the return of the prodigal son. These were the years of Carlo Maria Giulini’s music directorship, and MTT brought currency — new music, Gershwin, flashy showstoppers. Much of it was a breath of freshest air, but he was also remembered for his brash youth, which was now a brash 30s. He ran afoul of some in the orchestra and of its imperious head, Ernest Fleischmann.

Having been branded the next Bernstein, MTT floundered. What he needed was not L.A., but a far distant remove to find himself. That happened in two parts.

In 1987, the educator in him led to his greatest project, the creation of the New World Symphony in Miami Beach, Florida. The training orchestra guides young musicians with conservatory backgrounds into the world of professional orchestras.

Around the same time, Bernstein talked the London Symphony Orchestra into hiring Tilson Thomas as music director. Far from L.A., Boston and New York, a newly mature MTT found his bearings, no longer the next Leonard Bernstein but the first and only Michael Tilson Thomas.

Miami gave MTT meaning, and he commissioned Frank Gehry to design a revolutionary concert hall and teaching facility. In London, his conducting took on depth without losing its surface glamour. What MTT still lacked, however, was a creative outlook. He had always thought himself a composer and could, at a party, make up a clever song at the piano on the spot. He had drawers full of sketches but little finished work.

It took a return to the West Coast for MTT, having turned 50, to put all of his musical, emotional, personal and spiritual parts together and achieve greatness. For 25 years as music director of the San Francisco Symphony, MTT conducted Mahler and Tchaikovsky with a depth of soul that integrated his Russian roots and Bernsteinian character. He advocated for mavericks in summer festivals. He found his voice as a composer. He and Robison were embraced as a beloved San Francisco couple. He alchemized the San Francisco Symphony into a Bay Area beacon.

In the challenging last chapter of his life, MTT turned tragedy into triumph to became a universal inspiration. The lockdown in June 2020 meant cancellation of his farewell concerts as music director, including a production of Wagner’s “The Flying Dutchman” with a set by Gehry. The following summer, MTT fell on stage while conducting the London Symphony in Santa Barbara. He was diagnosed with late-stage glioblastoma. He likely had less than a year to live.

Remarkably, MTT continued to conduct until last April. His appearances with the L.A. Phil and the San Francisco Symphony were transformative. He guest conducted in New York, London, Prague and elsewhere. In L.A., a dying MTT led a profound performance of Mahler’s death-obsessed Ninth Symphony, not as a farewell but as a shamanistic savoring of every moment of life. He asked not for sympathy but for joy.

For MTT, the music never stopped. In his later years, he advanced the theory that what you took away from hearing a performance mattered as much, if not more, than what you experienced. That may explain why this creature of the theater who was so graceful leading an orchestra and so enjoyed talking to the audience turned stiff and awkward when bowing to acknowledged applause. Was it his reluctance to leave? Insecurity? Attempt to remove his ego from the experience, as if he was now handing the music over to you?

It was probably all of those things. During his illness, when his movement became more difficult, he let go. He was simply happy to be there, happy to share music, happy to be alive, very happy to be loved. His final bows were a celebration of life.

Sadly, Robison died Feb. 22, exactly two months before MTT, who died four days short of a year since his final concert with the San Francisco Symphony. But he lives on through about 150 recordings and his website.

He and Robison worked as tirelessly throughout his illness to archive his life. His website provides a treasure trove of compelling radio and television programs, his copious Thomashefsky Yiddish theater archive, a vast legacy of searching and believing. And hope.

SAN FRANCISCO — With the California governor’s race quickly approaching, six candidates will face off Wednesday evening in the first debate since former Rep. Eric Swalwell dropped out of the race in the aftermath of sexual assault and misconduct allegations.

The debate takes place at a critical moment in the turbulent contest to replace termed-out Gov. Gavin Newsom. Ballots will start landing in Californians’ mailboxes in less than two weeks, and voters are split by a crowded field of eight prominent candidates. The debate also takes place after former state Controller Betty Yee ended her campaign because of a lack of resources and support in the polls.

Two Republicans — Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco and conservative commentator Steve Hilton — and four Democrats — billionaire Tom Steyer, former Biden administration Secretary Xavier Becerra, former Orange County Rep. Katie Porter and San Jose Mayor Matt Mahan — will take the stage at Nexstar’s KRON4 studios in San Francisco. Former Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and state Supt. of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond, both Democrats, were not invited to participate because of their low polling numbers.

As the candidates strive to distinguish themselves in a crowded field, the debate could include fiery exchanges about the role of money in politics and potential heightened attacks on Becerra, who has surged in the polls since Swalwell dropped out. With the debate taking place on Earth Day, environmental issues are also likely to be raised.

The Wednesday night gathering is the first televised debate in the gubernatorial contest since early February. Last month, USC canceled a debate hours before it was set to begin over mounting criticism that its criteria excluded all major candidates of color.

The 7 p.m. debate is hosted by Nexstar and will be moderated by KTXL FOX40 anchor Nikki Laurenzo and KTLA anchor Frank Buckley. It can be viewed on KRON4 (San Francisco), KTLA5 (Los Angeles), KSWB/KUSI (San Diego), KTXL (Sacramento), KGET (Bakersfield) and KSEE (Fresno). NewsNation will also air the debate.

Nexstar Media Group will host a California gubernatorial candidate debate next week that will air across the company’s TV stations in the state.

“Debate Night in California: The Race for Governor,” will air April 22 starting at 7 p.m. Pacific, the company announced Monday. The event will originate from TV station KRON in San Francisco and be carried on KTLA in Los Angeles, KSWB in San Diego, KTXL in Sacramento, KGET in Bakersfield and KSEE in Fresno.

The debate will be moderated by Nikki Laurenzo, news anchor at KTXL and host of its public affairs program “Inside California Politics,” and Frank Buckley, veteran morning news anchor at KTLA.

The debate will include candidates who reached a minimum of 5% support in Nexstar’s March statewide poll conducted in March. Those candidates — Sheriff Chad Bianco, former Fox News host Steve Hilton, former U.S. Rep. Katie Porter and philanthropist Tom Steyer — have all agreed to participate in the event.

The debate will also air nationally on Nexstar’s cable news outlet NewsNation and be livestreamed over its political website The Hill. The network will also provide coverage leading up to the event with anchors Chris Cuomo and Leland Vittert, whose show will air live from San Francisco. Katie Pavlich will host post-debate coverage.

CNN previously announced it will bring the gubernatorial candidates together for a debate in Los Angeles that will air May 5 on the network and its subscription streaming platform. The debate will be moderated by Elex Michaelson and Kaitlan Collins.

WASHINGTON — When President Trump ordered immigration raids in Los Angeles last June, only a handful of those arrested were violent criminals. The sweeps split families, cost businesses millions of dollars and drove many undocumented residents into hiding.

Activists protested the Immigration and Customs Enforcement actions, prompting the president to deploy thousands of federal troops in what he called a security operation. A federal judge called it unlawful and said the deployment caused “greater harm” to the city.

Now, Trump wants a redo.

At a Cabinet meeting Thursday, he called on the mayors and governors of several blue cities and states to allow troops to “come in and stop the crime,” pointing to purported successes in Washington, Memphis and New Orleans.

“Crime is down 75% in a short period of time,” Trump told his top advisors. “We could do that for L.A. and we could do that for, frankly, San Francisco.”

The president framed the deployments as both a crime-fighting and immigration enforcement tool, saying that federal authorities can remove people from cities in ways local officials cannot.

“We can do it much more effectively, because [local leaders] can’t do what we do,” Trump said. “All the time, people come up to me … and they say ‘thank you so much.’ I know immediately what they’re talking about. They’re able to walk to work.”

Trump also said this week that he would consider deploying the National Guard at airports to assist with mounting security delays amid a 40-day partial government shutdown.

The renewed call comes after a series of controversial federal interventions in cities across the country. In Washington, Trump has repeatedly touted a visible security presence near federal buildings, crediting it with improving public safety, though local officials and analysts have debated how much of any decline in crime can be attributed to his order.

U.S. Marines stationed outside the federal detention center in downtown Los Angeles in June.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

In January, Trump threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act to deploy troops to Minneapolis during the civil unrest that followed the fatal shooting of Renee Good by a federal immigration agent. The Pentagon prepared active-duty troops for a possible deployment, but they were ordered to stand down following the shooting of a second Minneapolis civilian, Alex Pretti, the same month.

Immigration sweeps in Los Angeles targeted workplaces, neighborhoods and churches, stirring widespread panic and forcing many undocumented residents — including those with long-term residency and native-born children — into hiding. As a result, businesses reported sharp declines in revenue and customer traffic. A county analysis found that 82% of surveyed businesses experienced negative impacts, with some losing more than half their income amid workforce shortages and traffic reductions.

During the fallout, Mayor Karen Bass condemned Trump’s deployment of some 4,000 California National Guardsmen and 700 U.S. Marines.

“Deploying federalized troops on the heels of these raids is a chaotic escalation,” she said. “The fear people are feeling in our city right now is very real — it’s felt in our communities and within our families, and it puts our neighborhoods at risk. This is the last thing that our city needs.”

The president called the occupation off after U.S. District Judge Charles Breyer ruled that control of the California National Guard should be returned to the governor, rejecting the federal government’s authority to maintain control indefinitely. A similar Supreme Court ruling effectively ended federalized deployments throughout the country.

“The judges are really hurting this country,” Trump said Thursday. “Frankly, the justices — the Supreme Court — has really hurt our country, too.”

At the meeting, Trump also narrowed his comments on San Francisco and its mayor, Daniel Lurie.

“San Francisco was a great city, could quickly become a great city again,” Trump said. “But we can do it much more effectively.”

Last year, Trump considered carrying out similar federal law enforcement operations in the city. He backed off after a somewhat conciliatory phone call with Lurie, in which Trump said the mayor asked him “very nicely” to call off the deployment. Afterward, he agreed to give the newly elected mayor “a chance” to address crime in the city.

“In San Francisco, crime is down 30%, encampments are at record lows, and our city is on the rise,” Lurie said in a statement Thursday. “Public safety is my number one priority, and we are going to stay laser focused on keeping our streets safe and clean.”

A spokesperson for Lurie’s office said the two have not spoken since that October conversation, indicating Trump’s latest remarks do not reflect any new request or ongoing negotiations. Even so, the president struck a measured tone toward the San Francisco mayor on Thursday. He said Lurie is “trying very hard” but insisted federal intervention would get the job done faster.

Whether any Democrat-led city will take Trump up on that offer remains to be seen. City leaders have previously resisted federal deployments, arguing they undermine local control and risk inflaming already tense situations.

The White House did not respond to questions about whether any current plans exist to redeploy federalized troops to California cities.

Times staff writer Melissa Gomez in Los Angeles contributed to this report.

If David Nihill was a philosopher, his credo might be “I digress, therefore I am.”

Instead, Nihill is a comedian. Kind of. “I don’t know if I think of myself in those terms,” says Nihill, whose “Cultural Appreciation” special has 2.5 million views on YouTube. “I wouldn’t even call mine comedy specials.”

Nihill is a conversational storyteller who rarely even moves on stage. “I don’t know how to do performance,” he says, “but I do know how to talk.”

His current show, “Taking Tangents,” which takes him to Irvine, Pasadena and Los Angeles from March 13 to 17, is a wide-ranging collection of tales, with some material shifting from show to show. We’ll come back to it, but first, a few tangents.

Growing up in Ireland, Nihill, 47, struggled to learn, hampered by dyslexia — “I came in the lowest five percentile in the whole country of Ireland for spelling, and I didn’t even spell my name right on the test” — and an aversion to math. He was made to feel inferior because of his difficulties. “I was 100% in the ‘I am a moron’ category,” he says.

Nihill was shoved into a vocational program and most of his friends dropped out of school. He stayed in, but even when his father offered to buy him a Super Nintendo for certain math scores, Nihill fell short. His father bought it for him anyway, he says, “but I sold it and bought myself a motorcycle even though I was 15 and not legally old enough to drive.”

He finished high school and became a poorly paid, overworked apprentice electrician. That was enough to motivate him to go to college; there, he figured out how his brain worked and how to learn. He even developed a passion for reading: His last show, “Shelf Life,” wove in dozens of book recommendations.

During our conversation via video after a New York show, I’d ask one question, then follow Nihill as he ambled through his personal history. He started with a story about jumping off a cliff in Greece and shattering his leg — a part of “Tangents” — then going to Australia, before he stumbled into a master’s degree studying business back in Ireland (despite botching his application). A new friend there took him to his first-ever comedy show in Glasgow — there are even tangents within his digressions — before getting him a job with Enterprise Ireland, the government’s investment fund to boost Irish business overseas. That landed him in San Francisco, part of the “Cultural Appreciation” special. He left to pursue business opportunities in Mexico but, due to a hurricane, somehow ended up in Chile, spent a year wandering north toward America, and then scored an internship in Colombia.

Nihill is a conversational storyteller who rarely even moves on stage. “I don’t know how to do performance,” he says, “but I do know how to talk.”

(Jim McCambridge)

Eventually, Nihill’s story works its way to his current career, which began by accident. “It was never a dream or a goal,” he says. A friend in San Francisco had suffered a spinal cord injury and Nihill wanted to run a fundraiser, but dreaded public speaking.

That leads to a minor diversion, back to a college public speaking course in which Nihill was so terrified that he got drunk before his presentation and introduced himself “as an exchange student from Southern Yemen.”

In San Francisco, he started doing live comedy to overcome that fear. Meanwhile, his business background led him to see an opportunity and he created FunnyBizz, a company and conference where comedians help teach business leaders, like Kevin Harrington of “As Seen on TV,” how to use humor to communicate. The business bankrolled Nihill’s early days in comedy.

While Nihill has lived in America for years, most recently in Los Angeles, he remains passionately Irish, which shapes his shows in several ways.

In Ireland, “your nature is to just default to funny stories.”

He says American stand-up is about taking a topic and making it funny, aspiring for a five-minute joke-filled late night TV spot. Irish comedians say, “This thing happened to me and I think that’s funny. Let me just repeat it.”

The new show is named after “tangents” so that Nihill can go down different rabbit holes each night if he wants. “My head is always doing 60 different things,” he says, and he loves keeping his storytelling “free form and unfiltered,” whether he’s in a pub or on stage (or, apparently, in an interview).

The new show’s subjects will be familiar to Nihill’s fans: his parents, his foolish behavior (there are drunken college-age antics in a story that somehow eventually weaves in White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt) and Irish culture. “There are few countries that punch above their weight in social justice and social impact,” he says, and he always looks to draw connections with other cultures around the world. But the observations and connections he draws are new.

In New York, he added a bit about how 35% of Jamaicans have some Irish roots, quipping “imagine how fast they’d be without that” (in a nod to legendary sprinters like Usain Bolt). But for Nihill, that joke only works if it’s couched within the larger context of the cross-cultural connections, including the fact that Jamaican-born political activist Marcus Garvey drew upon the Irish independence movement for inspiration.

“There has to be some social value to doing it,” he says, although he’s quick to add his comedy isn’t overtly political. “My dad’s a teacher and that lives inside of me. Humor can be the ultimate tool for social activism. I am deliberately getting people to expand their minds in understanding these connections. I want comedy that makes everyone feel good and maybe learn something.”

Nihill on stage at Hollywood Improv.

(Jim McCambridge)

That “feel good” part is central: While he discusses his mother’s death from cancer last year, he leaves out a beautiful but poignant part of their final days together. “I’m deliberately avoiding that,” he says, because he wants to maintain an upbeat mood.

He digresses to tell me the story, however, and it’s literally longer than this entire article’s word count. “A very long answer to a very short question,” he admits, before swerving into a tale about back when his father had overstayed his visa in New York — it involves his dad being interviewed on CNN, getting into a bar fight and avoiding deportation because the immigration officer hailed from County Cork and Nihill’s dad burst into a song from there, earning him a six-month visa extension. The humanity of that scene “in contrast to a 5-year-old being dragged off to a detention center” may end up in a future Nihill show.

Nihill loves sharing the stories that come from observing and listening to people but says he doesn’t love the spotlight, which, he admits, makes comedy an odd career choice. He says he prefers telling stories to just a few people.

“With comedy, the best part for me is that before a show I eat half a chocolate bar and I leave the other half in the hotel room,” he says. “After the show, I get to finish it. That’s true happiness.”