The snow was flying sideways and he had no jacket, but this lumberjack did not shiver. He stood about 25 feet tall, ax in hand, wearing a red hat and rictus grin. And he was made of fiberglass.
I stood at his feet on the Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff, full of the satisfaction that comes at having accomplished something truly trivial: At last, I was face to face with the original Muffler Man.
Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road
Easter Island has its stone-faced monoliths. China has its terra-cotta warriors. And we Americans have these roadside giants, also known as Paul Bunyans, Uniroyal Gals and most commonly, Muffler Men. Manufactured in Los Angeles, they first appeared on the highways of North America in the early 1960s as an advertising gimmick, often promoting car lots or car parts. Now they’re rising again, a battalion of restored and replica specimens, beloved by road-trippers, kitsch aficionados, artists, preservationists and savvy entrepreneurs.
“To me, they’re kind of instant friends,” said Amy Inouye, the designer and artist who rescued L.A.’s most iconic Muffler Man, Chicken Boy, a chicken-headed statue that stands atop her gallery in Highland Park. “They’re really tall and they just want to be accepted for who they are.”
The Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff includes the first oversize fiberglass Muffler Man, who has long been outfitted as a lumberjack.
These figures are especially plentiful along Route 66 this year as it turns 100 — there was a “pre-centennial frenzy” in the words of roadsideamerica.com, which coined the term “Muffler Men” and tracks them on a map. Nobody’s certain how many figures were made during the golden age of Muffler Men, but since 2020, the tally of giants has climbed above 250, including “a few dozen” rediscoveries since 2010, according to Doug Kirby, the co-founder and publisher of the site.
“Just in the last year or two, all these Muffler Men are being added,” he said. In addition, more than a dozen giants are currently in transition — that is, getting reconditioned or relocated.
1.) Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce. 2.) The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.
On a recent westbound journey from Chicago on Route 66, I started seeing them almost immediately.
First, on Ogden Avenue in the Chicago suburb of Berwyn, there was the Cigars & Stripes Muffler Man. He stood on the roof of the Cigars & Stripes BBQ Lounge, brandishing a chicken wing and a fridge-size bottle of barbecue sauce while chewing on a stogie.
Next, in Wilmington, Ill., came the Gemini Giant, who stands 23 feet tall above a tiny park. Made for a Wilmington diner in 1965, he was auctioned off for $275,000 in early 2024 and placed in his current location later that year. He wears a clunky silver space helmet and holds a rocket in his hands.
I had come across a few Muffler Men before this trip, including Big Josh, who looks down upon Joshua Tree from the Station gift shop on State Route 62. But now I was paying more attention.
At first, I learned, these giants were all men, conceived around 1962 by a Lawndale entrepreneur named Bob Prewitt and made popular from the early 1960s through the mid-1970s by a company in Venice called International Fiberglass.
Made from a standard set of molds and held together by steel frames, most Muffler Men are assembled from three or four pieces. Besides those figures holding mufflers and tires, others were outfitted as cowboys, Indians, lumberjacks (often known as Paul Bunyans), astronauts, chefs, dentists, golfers, hot dog vendors, race-car drivers, pirates and service-station attendants. Then there were the jug-eared goofball characters, which some scholars of the art form call halfwits, while others prefer snerds.
As interest in this kind of advertising grew, female giants followed, including Uniroyal Gals and Rosie the Riveters. Oversized animals, including dinosaurs, bulls, roosters, hens and seals, also multiplied.
Juni Peraza, 25, works at the Meadow Gold Mack retail shop on 11th Street in Tulsa, Okla. She said she has only recently realized the possibilities that come with 11th Street being part of Route 66.
All that action faded in the 1970s. But in about 1989, the seeds of a new Muffler Man era were sown.
Kirby, Mike Wilkins and Ken Smith, who had worked together on the 1985 book “Roadside America,” were building a database for a follow-up project when they realized, “Hey, wait, this configuration of statue we’re seeing in a lot of places,” Kirby said. “We decided we’d better start keeping track.”
The first few they saw were holding mufflers. Thinking of the old nursery rhyme “Muffin Man,” and a Frank Zappa song of the same name, Kirby decided to call them Muffler Men.
When the roadsideamerica.com website launched in 1996, Muffler Men were part of it. By 2000, Roadside America had uncovered their origin story and interviewed Steve Dashew, former president of International Fiberglass. And readers had embraced the giants in a big way.
This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.
“It was like a religious epiphany for some people. For years, they were driving past these things,” Kirby said. “As soon as they realized it was part of an uncharted network across the country … it’s like your third eye has been opened.”
Ken Bernstein, principal city planner for Los Angeles Office of Historic Resources, calls Muffler Men “monumental and distinctive representations of midcentury car culture, especially along auto-centric corridors where it was important to catch the eye of passing motorists.”
New giants, known as custom jobs, are being steadily manufactured now. There’s an entire economic community emerging around their restoration, replication, sales, transport and display, including companies like (Re)Giant and sculptor Mark Cline’s Enchanted Castle Studios. (To confuse matters, many Southern California mechanics woo customers by welding together mufflers to make human figures. Those creations, too, are often called Muffler Men.)
The American Giants Museum in Atlanta, Ill., created in 2024 by Bill Thomas of the Atlanta Betterment Fund and collector-historian Joel Baker, is devoted to the fiberglass figures. The museum, open April through October, includes four standing Muffler Men, with two more expected around Memorial Day.
Because the giants stand in the open air, visitors who show up after hours — as I did — can ogle them any time.
Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum, which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.
“I love history. I love anything to do with cars and old advertisements. I think it just takes people back,” said Lee Woods, 55, who jumped on the Muffler Men bandwagon about five years ago and owns the museum.
Woods and his wife, Diane, who have a fleet of tow trucks in Hot Springs, Ark., were collecting old porcelain gas station signs, gas pumps and old cars in 2021 when, on a drive through Illinois, they laid eyes on the Gemini Giant.
“I told my wife I would love to have one of them things to represent our tow company,” Woods recalled.
Before long, they had hired someone to build a custom tow-truck-operator Muffler Man. And before that Muffler Man was done, Lee Woods had bought another one — a Paul Bunyan in Oklahoma. Then in 2023 he got a hold of a Muffler Man Mr. Spock from Rainbow Neon in Salt Lake City. Now Woods has eight Muffler Men in Arkansas.
“Sometimes I get carried away, my wife says,” Woods said.
Last fall, he bought the museum, where he collaborates with Baker, who is founder of the American Giants website, creator of a Giants YouTube series and serves as a Muffler Man broker, consultant and transportation specialist.
“When people see these things, they think they’re the coolest thing out there,” Woods said. “Today we’ve had people from six different countries here.”
1.) Cowboy Bob, who is about 20 feet tall, plays guitar and wears a bolo tie, is one of several oversize fiberglass mascots along 11th Street in the Meadow Gold District of Tulsa. 2.) Meadow Gold Mack, a friendly lumberjack, is mascot for a shop of the same name on 11th Street in Tulsa.3.) A Muffler Man near Gearhead Curios in Galena, Kan.4.) The 2nd Amendment Cowboy is a fiberglass giant that stands at the entrance to a trailer park near the art installation Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas.
From here, the giants seemed to come fast and furious. One in Galena, Kan. Two in Vinita, Okla. (which has since added a third). Five in Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District (including one with an 8-foot-long guitar).
Then in Weatherford, Okla., came a 30-foot astronaut. In Amarillo, a “2nd Amendment Cowboy” with a pair of big pistols at his feet. In Gallup, N.M., a giant on the roof of a used car lot.
By the time I’d reached Flagstaff, my count was 18.
Then came my snowy moment with the original Muffler Man, whose nickname is Louie. Experts agree that he was produced in about 1963 and sent to a Flagstaff cafe with a lumberjack theme (and yes, that cafe stood along Route 66).
Louie stood there until the cafe closed more than 10 years later. Then he was donated to NAU and stationed by the ticket office of the university’s Walkup Skydome. Another lumberjack stands inside.
But after Louie, I hit a drought — no more giant sightings in Arizona and none on the Route 66 alignment I followed into Southern California.
This seemed wrong, because there are so many giants along the byways of Southern California and because this is the land of their birth. Besides Big Josh, there’s the Paul Bunyan in Mentone, the empty-handed Muffler Man known as Kevin on Sherman Way in Van Nuys. There’s the flag-wielding Porsche Muffler Man in Carson (who previously served in the same spot as a club-brandishing Golf Man). And there are plenty of others.
It didn’t seem right to end the journey without another sighting. So I made my way to Highland Park to meet the one who rules the roost.
More specifically, I headed for 5558 N. Figueroa St., which was on the path of Route 66 for several years in the 1930s and which is the home of Chicken Boy.
Blessed with the customized head of a chicken, the body of a Muffler Man and a bucket in his hands (for eating chicken?), Chicken Boy stood for years atop the Chicken Boy fried-chicken restaurant on Broadway downtown, inspiring writer Art Fein to label him “L.A.’s Statue of Liberty.”
After the restaurant was shuttered in 1984, Inouye swooped in to rescue Chicken Boy and place him in protective storage — for years, as it turned out.
The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.
In October 2007, after she and longtime partner Stuart Rapeport had bought the Highland Park studio space and pulled permits, Inouye put Chicken Boy back together again and set him up on the roof. There he remains, sharing space with a billboard, visible up and down the block between Avenue 55 and Avenue 56.
If a nomination by L.A. preservationist Charles J. Fisher goes through, Chicken Boy could become the first Muffler Man declared a city historic-cultural monument. And if you drop by the Future Studio Gallery on a Saturday between noon and 3 p.m. or 4 p.m., you’ll likely find Inouye, now 74, along with a trove of Chicken Boy T-shirts, patches, pencils and ceramic treasure boxes.
But seeing Chicken Boy is its own reward, especially after seeing so many of his fiberglass cousins. I got there on a balmy afternoon, beheld Chicken Boy’s beak gleaming in the sun, and knew my mission was complete.
Ian Bowen is manager of the “66 to Cali” shop/kiosk on the Santa Monica Pier. Many travelers go to the kiosk for the Route 66 “passports” and certificates of completion.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
Beyond the merry-go-round and before the Ferris wheel on Santa Monica Pier, Ian Bowen does business in a snug kiosk overstuffed with souvenirs, guidebooks and replica highway signs. The whole structure measures about 77 square feet. But the idea behind it sprawls for miles and keeps Bowen talking for hours on end: Route 66.
The 66 to Cali kiosk is owned by Dan Rice, who started the business in 2009 after years of travels on the Mother Road. But Bowen, 35, has been managing it for 10 years, making sales, offering advice and hearing travelers’ tales, which almost always come with surprises. He calls himself “a bona fide nerd about Route 66.”
“It took me six years to do the whole road and finish my last stretch in Arcadia, Oklahoma,” Bowen said between customers one recent night. Rather than cover more than 2,400 miles in a single trip, he has done what many American “roadies” do: biting off one chunk at a time. Before you know it, he said, “you become part of the community.”
That became obvious as Bowen flipped through the photo albums he keeps in the kiosk. There’s Harley Russell, ribald proprietor and performer at the Sandhills Curiosity Shop in Erick, Okla. There’s Fran Houser, the late, widely beloved proprietor of the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas. And there’s Bowen getting a haircut from Angel Delgadillo, the Seligman, Ariz., barber, now 99, who kicked off a resurgence of interest in Route 66 in 1987 with a call for historical recognition.
This is not the career Bowen planned for; he studied to be an industrial designer. But now that he’s in the business of celebrating Route 66, he sees it, and other highways like it, as a launching pad for independent businesses, a lifeline for small towns and an antidote to the isolation of contemporary society.
“The old roads aren’t just about nostalgia,” Bowen says on his website. “They’re about creativity, honest work, investing in ourselves and our communities, and the notion that effort is rewarded.”
For those considering a Route 66 trip, Bowen has advice of all kinds.
Want an old-school meal along the route in Santa Monica? Bowen will point you toward Bay Cities Italian Deli & Bakery, which opened in 1925.
A lunch spot near Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch in Oro Grande? Cross-Eyed Cow Pizza, said Bowen, is just down the road.
The backstory on Bobby Troup’s song “Route 66?” Bowen can tell you that Nat King Cole recorded it in early 1946 in a studio at 7000 Santa Monica Blvd. And that address, now occupied by the Jeffrey Deitch art gallery, is actually on Route 66.
Whatever your itinerary, Bowen urges a loose schedule, leaving plenty of room for discoveries and unplanned conversations. Otherwise, “it’s so easy to use up all your time and end up running behind,” he said.
One recent Friday, Leonidas Georgiou, 36, stepped up to the kiosk, brimming with enthusiasm.
Georgiou, who lives in Athens, only learned about Route 66 last year “from an influencer on Greek TikTok.” But once he heard about it, he acted fast. Georgiou plotted a U.S. trip, recruited his mom to ride shotgun and picked up a rented Mazda SUV in Chicago. They made the drive in 23 days, with detours to Las Vegas and Monument Valley and a stop at the Walter White house (from “Breaking Bad”) in Albuquerque.
The varying weather and landscape, Georgiou said, made it feel like a four-season trip. Several times, in cities where hotels seemed too pricey or too sketchy, he and his mom slept in their SUV. Before Bowen could speak up, Georgiou added that he’s a police officer in Athens, and that he chose their spots carefully. Georgiou’s mother, who didn’t speak much English, nodded in affirmation.
“Instead of spending $40 each and getting bedbugs, it’s better to sleep in the car,” Georgiou said. And in the larger picture, he said, it was important to give the trip all the time it needed.
“This is a lifetime journey,” Georgiou said.
Bowen nodded and smiled. Another 66 traveler, another set of surprises.
Route 66 was 20 years old and World War II had just ended when Bobby Troup, an aspiring songwriter from Pennsylvania, decided to go west. As it turned out, that drive in early 1946 did more than anyone could have imagined to establish the road as a symbol of footloose American freedom.
Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road
Troup, 25 at the time, had already earned an economics degree from the University of Pennsylvania, written a hit song (1941’s “Daddy,” sung by Sammy Kaye), worked for bandleader Tommy Dorsey and served as a Marine through the war years. But to restart his career as a songwriter and actor, he believed that he needed to be in Los Angeles. So he and his wife, Cynthia, pointed their 1941 Buick toward California.
They started on U.S. 40, then picked up Route 66 in Illinois. Along the way, as Troup told author Michael Wallis in the book “Route 66: The Mother Road,” Cynthia came up with a phrase she thought was songworthy.
Bobby Troup, composer of the hit song “Route 66” and grand marshal of Duarte, Calif.’s Salute to Route 66 parade, rides in a 1948 Buick convertible and waves to fans in 1996.
(Louisa Gauerke / Associated Press)
“Get your kicks on Route 66,” she said.
Troup took it from there, creating “a kind of musical map of the highway.”
As Troup later recalled in an introduction to a Route 66 book by Tom Snyder, they heard Louis Armstrong play a club in St. Louis, stopped at Meramec Caverns in Missouri and found that “a good part of the highway was absolutely miserable — narrow, just two lanes, and very twisting through the Ozarks and Kansas.” Then came a snowstorm in Texas.
By the end of the drive, the up-tempo tune was half-done. Then, not quite a week after arrival, Troup landed a chance to pitch a few songs to Nat “King” Cole, who had already won fame with hits including “Sweet Lorraine” and “Straighten Up and Fly Right.”
They were sitting by a piano on stage — after Cole’s last set of the night at the Trocadero on Sunset Strip — when the nervous young songwriter decided to share his unfinished road song.
“I got up on the riser, pulled the piano bench back a little bit — and it went over the side and I fell over backwards,” Troup confessed in a later interview.
Still, Cole “loved it,” Troup recalled. “As a matter of fact, he got on the piano with me and played it.”
This was February. By mid-March, the song was done and Cole was recording it in a studio on Santa Monica Boulevard, part of Route 66.
The finished version name-checked a dozen cities along the route, including these words:
Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri,
And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.
You see Amarillo,
Gallup, New Mexico,
Flagstaff, Arizona.
Don’t forget Winona,
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.
Won’t you get hip to this timely tip
When you make that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66.
In April, Capitol Records released “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” and the tune quickly rose to #11 on the Billboard chart of top-selling singles. Before 1946 was out, it had been recorded again, this time by Bing Crosby with the Andrews Sisters. That version went to #14.
Musicians Nat “King” Cole, left, and Bing Crosby, circa 1945.
(NBC / NBCU Photo Bank / NBCUniversal via Getty Images via Getty Images)
Coming just as postwar America was rediscovering leisure travel, the song was a big hit — and for many, a painful irony. Even with guidance from the Green Book used by many African American travelers in those days, it would have been deeply risky — and illegal in some places — for any Black man, Nat King Cole included, to eat and sleep on Route 66. This was a year before Jackie Robinson integrated baseball’s major leagues, two years before the U.S. Army was integrated.
As Candacy Taylor puts it in her 2020 book “Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America,” “the open road wasn’t open to all.” Into the 1950s, Taylor writes, “about 35% of the counties on Route 66 didn’t allow Black motorists after 6 p.m.” and six of the eight states on the route still had segregation laws. Cole may have helped sell Route 66, Taylor writes, but “the carefree adventure he was promoting was not meant for him.”
Documentary photographer Candacy Taylor at the New Aster Motel in Los Angeles in 2016. In her book “Overground Railroad,” she writes about the discrimination Black travelers faced while driving on Route 66.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Two years after recording the song, when the increasingly wealthy Cole and his family bought a Hancock Park mansion and became the neighborhood’s first Black homeowners, many neighbors tried to keep him out, poisoned the family dog and burned racist insults into his lawn.
The Coles stayed put. The family was still in that home on South Muirfield Road in 1956, when Cole became the first African American to host a network television show, and in 1965, when Cole died of cancer at 45.
Troup, who later was divorced from Cynthia and married singer/actor Julie London, went on to record more than a dozen albums and had other songs recorded by Little Richard and Miles Davis. As an actor, Troup filled many guest-star roles on television, played Dr. Joe Early on the 1970s TV show “Emergency!” and had a small part in Robert Altman’s 1970 film “MASH.”
Meanwhile, the song kept rolling. As years passed, Perry Como, Sammy Davis Jr., Chuck Berry, the Rolling Stones, the Manhattan Transfer, Michael Martin Murphey, Asleep at the Wheel, Buckwheat Zydeco, Depeche Mode, Glenn Frey, the Brian Setzer Orchestra and John Mayer recorded versions. At different points in the 2006 movie “Cars,” you hear Berry’s and Mayer’s versions. Troup, who died in 1999, never forgot the difference the song made, both in his life and the way people think about the road.
“On the basis of that song, I was able to go out and buy a house and stay in California,” Troup told Wallis. “I never realized when I was putting it together that I was writing about the most famous highway in the world. I just thought I was writing about a road — not a legend.”
The Rolling Stones are among the countless musicians who have recorded versions of “Route 66.”
Famous signs along the nearly 2,500 miles of Route 66 include the 66-foot soda bottle at Pops in Oklahoma, the wagging neon tail of Albuquerque’s Dog House and the hand-painted slogans for Snow Cap Drive-In in Arizona. But in L.A., none is so iconic as the giant looming penguin that signifies milkshakes, burgers, oldies playlists and sheer Americana at the end of the road.
Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road
The Mother Road that stretches from Chicago to the West Coast unofficially ends at the Santa Monica Pier, but at its technical terminus, Mel’s Drive-In declares the “ROUTE ENDS HERE,” inlaid in terrazzo beneath that jumbo tuxedoed penguin. It’s been a beacon for decades, and though the beloved restaurant space recently was listed for sale for $26 million, Mel’s owners hope it remains a diner and destination for generations.
For much of its history, the diner at the end of Route 66 was the 1959-founded Penguin Coffee Shop, a Googie-architecture marvel of angular windows, rock walls and little cartoons of penguins hanging above swivel stools and an open kitchen.
The original penguin sign from the former Penguin Coffee Shop still stands at Mel’s Drive-In in Santa Monica.
As a very young child I remember sliding into the booths with my father, whose office was nearby on Wilshire. Back then, the tall angled ceilings seemed to soar and the breakfast combos looked mountainous.
“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” my dad recalls. “It had an aura of roadside diner about it. … Everybody would see the giant penguin out there. I don’t think Burgess Meredith ever ate there, though.” The joke takes me a beat before landing; my version of Batman’s Penguin will always be Danny DeVito.
“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” the writer’s dad recalls.
We’d visit every month or two, until the Penguin closed its doors in 1991 and transformed into a Western Dental office, which kept the penguin sign but dropped those high ceilings and removed the kitchen along with other hallmarks of its roadside charm. Thankfully, its journey didn’t end there.
The Weiss family, which founded Mel’s Drive-In diner in 1947, had been eyeing the property for years and signed a lease in 2016. Then there was the link to their own history: The prolific Armet & Davis architecture firm designed the Penguin as well as the current home of Mel’s Sherman Oaks.
“When the dentist office went out of business,” said co-owner Colton Weiss, “it seemed like a no-brainer to make it Mel’s and bring it back to the glory days of being a diner.”
What followed were two years of “very expensive” renovations, according to the third-generation Mel’s owner.
Beyond the iconic penguin sign — which obtained “historically or architecturally significant” designation in 2000 — Mel’s pays homage with the large sculptural, custom-made glass globe lights, which replicate the original’s. The Weisses hired garden specialists to review decades-old photos of the Penguin Coffee Shop to determine which varieties of flowers decorated the front of the restaurant, then they replanted them.
Since the building’s reopening in 2018, thousands of guests have ended the journey along Route 66 with a meal in the diner.
“We’re like Route 66 authorities now.”
— Colton Weiss, co-owner of Mel’s Drive-In
While sledgehammering drywall, they uncovered the diner’s original rock wall. Along a hallway near the bathrooms, a small gallery of Penguin Coffee Shop photos offers another glimpse of the predecessor. This location also features a marshmallow-and-chocolate-sauce Penguin Shake in honor of the tuxedoed mascot of the original.
It wasn’t until they were close to signing a deal that they realized it sat along Route 66.
“We’re like Route 66 authorities now,” said Weiss, whose father, Steven Weiss, was largely responsible for the restoration.
Since the building’s reopening in 2018, the owners say thousands of guests have ended their travels with a meal in the diner. They bustle through the doors after the long journey, sometimes bedecked in Route 66 merchandise, and sometimes buying Mel’s own brand of Route 66 merch while there.
Atmosphere and details of Mel’s Drive-In Diner.
“We had a guy do it in a ’67 Chevy, that was on his bucket list: Older guy who did it with his wife, and it was a convertible,” said Weiss. “He did it in summertime, so by the time he showed up he was covered in dust and dirt. He couldn’t be happier to make it to Mel’s and get a burger.”
Another, he said, did the whole route on a bicycle.
The diner offers certificates of completion for those who finish the trek, and devised a burger named for the route. A fish tank at the entrance features a Route 66 theme, as does a mural on a small wall of the parking lot. Two official signs, placed by the city, denote the location’s significance.
“The city knew there’d be renewed interest in a diner being the real ending of Route 66,” Weiss said. “Before, I don’t know anybody who’d want to end their trip at a dentist’s office. Maybe somebody who broke their teeth on the way.”
But the trail’s end could someday see its own end. The property was listed for sale in 2025. Representatives for the building’s management company didn’t respond to requests for comment.
“We’re trying to keep it there as long as possible,” Weiss said. “People really enjoy this location, and it seems like one of the last diners in Santa Monica.” Weiss declined to comment further.
Mel’s assistant manager Yazmin Minguelasays she sees more travelers now because it’s the centennial of Route 66. “But even before that, we still had a lot of visitors.”
She’s worked for Mel’s 22 years, six of which have been spent in the Santa Monica restaurant. Her shifts are full of Westside regulars, celebrities and guests finishing their trip along Route 66.
“Ending on a diner is nostalgia,” my dad mused. “Having a place like Mel’s, which is a substitute for the kind of flea-bitten ptomaine joints that you might get along Route 66, brings back memories to very old people. And very new people ask questions like, ‘Who’s Burgess Meredith?’”
Mel’s Drive-In is open at 1670 Lincoln Blvd., Santa Monica, Sunday to Thursday from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., and Friday and Saturday from 7 a.m. to midnight.
Acoma makes 100 years of history look like small change. To get there, you veer south from old 66 for 14 miles at the tiny town of Paraje, about an hour west of Albuquerque.
Also known as Sky City, Acoma is a Native community of earthen homes perched atop a 357-foot-high mesa. It has been occupied for roughly 1,000 years by the Acoma Pueblo tribe, which is independent of the nearby Navajo, Zuni and Laguna, with its own language and about 5,000 enrolled members.
Thanks to revenues from their Sky City Casino and hotel along Interstate 40, the Acoma also have a large, handsome Haa’ku Museum and Sky City Cultural Center next to the historic mesa. There, outsiders can gather for escorted tours of 60 to 90 minutes, mostly walking. It’s $30 per adult. Photography, binoculars and note-taking are closely restricted, and outsiders are generally forbidden from the mesa except on tours.
My group of 18 travelers was led by guide Gail Toribio, 27. After a quick bus ride up a steep road built in the 1950s, we found ourselves on top of the mesa, facing one massive church, about 500 homes and several pottery stalls that materialize during tours. The views were spectacular, the pottery was full of painstaking detail, and it was fascinating to see the ancient and modern elements together in the hilltop homes. But the biggest thing and most astonishing story on the mesa is the San Estévan del Rey Mission.
When Spanish troops and missionaries showed up in the 16th century, they forced labor and Christianity upon Native groups, often slaughtering and maiming those who resisted, including many Acoma. By the 1640s, forced labor had produced the church on the mesa, its 40-foot-long ponderosa pine beams dragged from Mt. Taylor, more than 30 miles away. Somehow, when the area’s tribes rose up in the Pueblo Indian revolt of 1680 and killed most of the Catholic priests in New Mexico, the church endured. And over time, Toribio told us, most Acoma families settled into a sort of dual faith, combining their traditional beliefs with Catholic rituals, including Christmas.
After the church, we walked among two-story homes that were here long before the first Europeans showed up. (Only a handful of the homes are still occupied full time.)
“I was actually raised up there,” potter Gwen Patricio, 52, told me back at the visitor center. “No electricity, no running water. They asked the elders if they wanted electricity, but they said no.”
Friends, motorists, fellow Americans: The road ahead is far from straight. But it will take us through eight states and dozens of small towns, past Muffler Men and Patel motels, beneath the bright lights of Tulsa and Tucumcari, up close to Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” and Angel Delgadillo’s barber chair.
In other words, it’s Route 66, an American artifact that turns 100 in November and seems to contain more curiosities and paradoxes than the Midwest has cornstalks.
To see all that up close and catch America’s Main Street making ready for its centennial summer, I drove the entire stretch — from Chicago to Albuquerque in one trip, then Albuquerque to Santa Monica in another, a combined 17 days on the road.
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Even before that first day of driving brought me to Springfield, Ill., I’d realized that more days would have been better. As traveler Leonidas Georgiou of Greece told me, “This is a lifetime journey.”
You quickly see that this 2,448-mile route is actually a medley of rural highways, small-town main streets, frontage roads and inescapable bits of Interstate 40. You roll from Midwest farmland to Southwest desert to the Pacific, rising and falling between sea level and 7,000 feet. The roadside signs and buildings, restored and ruined, cry out for more than a drive-by snap. And people are happy to see you, because Route 66 is what keeps some of these towns alive.
Beginning with your first miles — and a cup of coffee at Lou Mitchell’s diner in Chicago — you meet all sorts of travelers. A mother and daughter from New York. The California couple who just retired from the Air Force. The European cop who persuaded his mom to come along, then had her sleep in the car to save money. The “roadies,” many of them retired, who return every year. Some come for the scenery, some for the signage, some for the conversations.
Depending on whom you ask, this might be the most famous highway in the world. It is the inspiration for a short, happy song that’s lasted 80 years (Bobby Troup’s “[Get Your Kicks on] Route 66”) and a long, sad book that’s lasted 87 (John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath”). Then again, if you were born in this century, you probably know the road’s story best from the 2006 Disney-Pixar movie “Cars.”
As the miles go by, you realize that Route 66 hasn’t been strictly American for a long time. Many Route 66 merchants and hoteliers say that most of their customers are travelers from abroad. Beyond that, many Route 66 entrepreneurs are from families that came to the U.S. in the last 50 years. I met a restaurateur from Lebanon, one motel owner from the Netherlands and four more motel owners, all named Patel, whose families arrived from India after 1965.
Route 66 west of Seligman, Ariz.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
“You never know what language or accent you’re going to hear,” says Rhys Martin, Tulsa, Okla.-based manager for the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Preserve Route 66 initiative. “You’ve got new business owners. You’ve got unique cuisine. You’ve got this cultural diversity. You’ve got the African American experience. It’s more complicated than just a trip back in time.”
And this year is especially complicated.
Hundreds of small businesses along the route have been investing in centennial upgrades and celebrations, including a 19-day national caravan that begins June 6 in Santa Monica. But 2025 was slow on 66, in part because many Canadian visitors stayed away after President Trump proposed taking over their country.
1.) Views of the Chicago skyline from Navy Pier. 2.) Millennium Park, Chicago.(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
Now, on the brink of summer, soaring gasoline prices could keep many Americans home, and President Trump’s America-first rhetoric and nonresident fees might drive more international travelers elsewhere.
“We all worry about that,” says Terri Ryburn, owner of Ryburn Place Gifts & Gab in a 1930s gas station in Normal, Ill.
“We need new roadies,” says Anna Marie Gonzalez, co-owner of the Aztec Motel & Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz. “And the roadies need to be American this year.”
Now my rented Ford Escape SUV is rolling and my windshield is full of rural Illinois. Water towers, grain elevators, flags on barns. Black and white cows.
The skyline view from Chicago’s Navy Pier is half a day behind me, as are the crowds around the big silver bean in Millennium Park and the great American artworks in the Art Institute of Chicago (where “Nighthawks” hangs).
Experts say that about 85% of the old highway is still drivable. But some states post more signs than others. And everywhere, people steal signs.
Ah, but not these signs. One for a barn sale off Stripmine Road. A warning that Funks Grove has sold out of pure maple syrup. Somebody selling deer pee to hunters.
When I cross the state line, I face a billboard pitching “Uranus Fudge Factory, Missouri’s No. 2 Attraction.”
After I pass the exit comes the sequel message: “Uranus is behind you.”
The Wagon Wheel Motel stands along Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
The Route 66 timeline starts in November 1926. That’s when state and federal transportation officials embraced the idea of connecting scores of cities and small towns with one long, paved road.
As I pull over for a barbecue dinner in tiny Cuba, Mo., the 90-year-old Wagon Wheel Motel pops up like a slideshow illustration of that time. The stone-walled motel looks unchanged in decades, but sleepy.
“Never closed,” says a sign in the window with a phone number. “If office locked we are close by.”
The Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., is a window into the same era. Built in 1929, my $77 room is compact and the plumbing is delicate, but all the vintage vibes are present. Phyllis Ferguson, desk clerk, owner and “old building hugger,” is full of tips on roadside businesses and where to stay, because “I know these little tourist courts are getting fewer and farther between.”
Boots Court motel opened in 1939 to capitalize on Route 66 traffic in Carthage, Mo.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
In Carthage, Mo., at Boots Court, desk clerk Jason Shelfer shows me a splendidly restored 1939 room where Clark Gable slept and tells me he never appreciated the reach of Route 66 until now.
“When people from Brazil come to Carthage, Missouri,” Shelfer says, “something magical is happening.”
And there’s another side to this magic: 66 can also be invisible up close. Not just because of missing signs, but because it has aliases everywhere. It’s Jackson Boulevard in parts of Chicago, Garrison Avenue in Carthage and Main Street in Galena, Ks., where 18-year-old cashier Kassidy Kell welcomes me into Gearhead Curios.
“Before my job,” she confesses, “I had no idea what the thing was with Route 66.”
It was John Steinbeck who called 66 the Mother Road. But if the Mother Road has a father, it’s probably Cyrus Avery, a Tulsa businessman and big wheel on the Oklahoma Highway Commission in the 1920s. Avery, who now has his own plaza in Tulsa, campaigned for a Chicago-Los Angeles route through his hometown. Little did he know what was coming.
The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge in Tulsa, Okla.
(Mike Simons / For The Times)
Within a decade, drought and Depression had forced legions of Dust Bowl migrants from Oklahoma and beyond on desperate journeys west, using Route 66.
A decade beyond that, the end of World War II in 1945 filled the road again, this time with happy travelers.
That postwar era is what many people now think of as a simpler time, and perhaps a better one. But segregation and “sundown towns” were still in place along much of the route. For travelers of color, a carefree road trip would have been impossible. And for many Native Americans, the roadside proliferation of cowboy/Indian caricatures would have been nothing to smile at.
But these were years that reshaped the look of Route 66. Hundreds of motels, shops and gas stations rose along the road, often designed in bold geometry and bright colors.
Mary Beth Babcock at her shop Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios in Tulsa, Okla. In the background is her giant, Stella Atom.
(Mike Simons / For The Times)
Flash forward now to Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District, a.k.a. “land of the giants.” In 2018, retailing veteran Mary Beth Babcock took over an old gas station, dubbed it Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios on 66, and soon opened more shops nearby.
Then, to get attention and make drivers smile, she put up a few “muffler men” — roadside fiberglass giants. She started with Buck and Stella Atom, a space cowboy and cowgirl who loom over 11th Street, looking to the past and future.
“Americana!” says Babcock. “Road trip! Who wouldn’t want to do that?”
Near the east edge of the Texas panhandle stands the most elegant gas station you’ll ever see: the 1936 U-Drop Inn and Tower Station in Shamrock, which drips with Art Deco style. (No, you can’t get gas there. But you can eat at the cafe inside or charge your Tesla in back.)
In Groom, stopping for gas, I spy the largest cross I have ever seen — 190 feet high and 110 feet wide. Nearby, I glimpse a crooked water tower — built to attract tourists and billed as the Leaning Tower of Texas.
Sorry, Groom. I’m not stopping.
The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
I reach Amarillo just in time, grab paint cans and hustle out to the field where a line of 10 old Cadillacs stand half-buried. As the sun sets, they throw 50-foot shadows while the scent of spray paint fills the air.
This is Cadillac Ranch, an art installation from the 1970s where visitors are free to add their own paint, whatever they like. Mine says “Read Something.”
Next comes Tucumcari, N.M., one of the few places to sleep between Albuquerque and Amarillo. Because of that, it used to get thousands of road-trippers. They’d slowly roll down the main drag, choosing favorites from a riot of snappy names and caricatures lit in gleaming neon.
“They tell me it was like driving into a little Las Vegas,” says Gar Engman, owner of Tee Pee Curios.
But I-40 changed everything.
In 1956, President Eisenhower called for a better interstate highway system. By the mid-1960s, wider, faster interstates started opening, flanked by chain hotels and restaurants. After I-40 bypassed Tucumcari in 1981, and train service dropped off as well, Tucumcari crashed. Just about every town along 66 has a version of this story, especially in New Mexico and Arizona.
Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
So is Tucumcari a ghost town? Not exactly. Many buildings stand empty and the Apache Motel’s vintage sign rests flat in a parking lot like a fallen soldier. But several motels are clearly doing fine, as is Tee Pee Curios. At night you still see a great set of signs. Most dramatic is the Blue Swallow Motel with its bird in flight, cursive letters and promise of “100% refrigerated air” — maybe the most photographed sign on 66. But you can’t ignore Motel Safari, the Roadrunner Lodge and La Cita restaurant, which wears a red sombrero and serves a fine Frito pie.
In Newkirk, N.M., four turkeys cross the road, leaving me groping for a punch line.
In Santa Rosa, N.M., I tiptoe into the Blue Hole, an artesian well that’s always 62 degrees, then tiptoe out again.
Turkeys on Route 66, Newkirk, N.M.
(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)
In Albuquerque, I roll past many blighted blocks on Central Avenue, then jog 65 miles northwest to sample the art and wealth of Santa Fe.
In the farmers market there, I give public poet William Curius $20 to pound out a Route 66 poem on his Royal typewriter. In 20 minutes, he comes up with a solid effort, but it’s nothing compared to his answer when I ask his age.
“I don’t identify with age. This is how you die. Counting each year.”
In Petrified Forest National Park — the only national park directly on the route — I hike among red rocks and howling wind.
By the time I reach Williams, Ariz., several people have told me that the European travelers know more about Route 66 than the Americans do. So when I see four guys from Greece on the sidewalk, I try that idea on them. Alex Andros, age 30, nods immediately.
“If you come to Greece,” he says,”you probably know more Greek mythology than us. So that makes sense.”
Now we arrive at Seligman, Ariz. It’s tiny, with a population south of 800. But in the lore of Route 66, Seligman is big. Because of Angel Delgadillo.
By 1985, though the roadway was still mostly intact, Route 66 was officially obsolete, decommissioned as a federal highway. Starved for visitors, Seligman was dying. But Delgadillo, a barber with deep roots in the town, had an idea. He and his wife, Vilma, rallied business people from nearby towns to seek historic status for their stretch of Route 66. After they prevailed, they started a statewide organization and set a national movement in motion.
Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)
Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)
The Delgadillos’ business, now a gift shop, endures on Seligman’s main drag, as do Vilma and Angel, who celebrated his 99th birthday in April. Two daughters help run the shop, which includes an old barber chair where you can sit for a selfie.
The westernmost stretch of 66 in Arizona is a driver’s dream and a magnet for motorcycles. Those 158 miles make up the longest-surviving continuous stretch of Old 66, beginning just east of Seligman, veering away from the railroad tracks, cutting through Kingman, twisting and turning through Oatman and the Black Mountains, eventually rejoining I-40 at the state line.
Then it’s time to cross the Colorado River. Roar through Needles. Pause at the Roy’s sign in Amboy for dusk. Crash for the night in Barstow.
At San Bernardino’s Wigwam Motel, I wind up chatting with a mother-daughter duo of Canadian travelers.
“I was against coming down,” admits Sharon Prinz, 75, of British Columbia.
1.) The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its roaming donkeys, is on the way. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)2.) The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga. (David Fouts / For The Times)3.) Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University. (David Fouts / For The Times)
“It’s a timing thing,” says Wendy Prinz, 51, who talked her mom into coming. “If you put off something for a year, you might never get the chance.”
The end is near, and I’m feeling like a marathoner at Mile 25. Creeping along Foothill, Colorado, Sunset and Santa Monica boulevards, I scan the scene for old signs. Rancho Cucamonga’s Magic Lamp Inn! Azusa’s Foothill Drive-In! (But there is no drive-in, just the sign.)
And then, at dusk, it appears: the Santa Monica Pier and the sign declaring I’ve reached the “end of the trail.”
All those miles. Yet already, I’m making a mental list of stops to add and detours to try next time.
A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.
(David Fouts / For The Times)
“It’s so easy to use up all your time and end up running behind,” says Ian Bowen, manager of the pier’s 66 to Cali kiosk. “It took me six years to do the whole road.” And then, he adds, “you become part of the community.”
And you see how, in so many ways, the road is one long small town. When Brenda at the Midpoint Cafe in Texas sends a guest westward with a coconut cream pie for Robert and Dawn at the Blue Swallow Motel, Robert and Dawn thank her on Facebook (“It’s like a hug in a box”) and scores of roadies applaud. When Angel Delgadillo turns 99, West Side Lilo’s Cafe is ready with carrot cake. After Beth Hilburn adds a giant outside her Hi-Way Cafe, Mary Beth Babcock heads over from Tulsa to Vinita to say hi.
And when a rookie roadie finishes his first 66 trip, he has to wonder: Who will be out there this summer? Will it be enough to keep this fragile recovery going?
If this is the story of America’s Main Street, what’s the next chapter?
As LeBron James sat at the podium following the Lakers’ season-ending loss to the Oklahoma City Thunder in Game 4 of the Western Conference semifinals on Monday night, he was asked about his future.
He had just completed his 23rd season in the NBA at 41 years old and he will become a free agent this summer.
James has been asked about retirement all season — and if he would return to the Lakers next season or play for another team.
So after finishing with 24 points and 12 rebounds in the 115-110 loss, James addressed the situation again.
“With my future, I don’t know, honestly,” James said. “It’s still fresh from obviously losing. And I don’t know. I don’t know what the future holds for me, obviously. As it stands right now, tonight, I got a lot of time. I’ll sit back, like I think I said last year after we lost, I think to Minnesota, to go back and recalibrate with my family and talk with them, and spend some time with them. And then when the time comes, then obviously you guys will know what I’ve decided to do.”
James said he’ll talk to his wife, Savannah, his daughter, Zhuri, and his son, Bryce.
James was asked what his decision process will be like.
“I don’t know,” he said. “If I can commit to still being in love with the process of showing up to the arena five-and-a-half hours before a game to start preparing for a game, giving everything I got, diving for loose balls and doing everything that you know that it takes to go out and play. Showing up to practices, 11 o’clock practice, I’m there at eight o’clock preparing my body, preparing my mind, preparing to practice, to put the work in.
“So I think for me, I’ve always been in love with the process and not the aftermath of, OK, we won that game, or we won a championship. I’ve always enjoyed the process and not the outcome. So, I think that would be a big factor.”
LeBron James, center, celebrates with his Lakers teammates after defeating the Miami Heat for the NBA title on Oct. 11, 2020.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
James has been with the Lakers for eight seasons. He helped the team win an NBA championship in 2020 in the COVID-19 bubble in Orlando, Fla.
James was asked what has stood out during his time with the Lakers.
“Obviously winning a championship in 2020 would stand at the top,” James said. “That was the reason why I came here, to restore that level of play and restore this franchise back to what it was known for, winning championships and playing at a high level. … So that would be at the top.”
James was asked if those were the last handshakes of his career.
“Last handshakes? No, I don’t know. ‘Cause I don’t, I have no idea,” James said. “None of us even know what the future holds. None of us.”
The Lakers know that they could have eight unrestricted free agents in their immediate future.
After James, the next biggest potential free agent is Austin Reaves. He is expected to opt out of his deal that will pay him $14.8 million and become a free agent, according to people familiar with the situation not authorized to comment. The Lakers can pay Reaves a maximum deal of $241 million over five years, with a starting salary of about $41.5 million next season.
The Lakers value Reaves and are expected to meet his demands. Reaves could sign with another team that has salary-cap space, but that deal would be for four years and about $178 million.
“I take life day by day and I’m just blessed to have an opportunity to play for this organization, play a kid’s game,” Reaves said. “I make good money. But like I said, don’t think about what I’m really going to do in the future. Just day by day.”
Center Deandre Ayton had an inconsistent season, averaging 12.5 points on 67.1% shooting and 8.0 rebounds. He can opt out of his deal that pays him $8.1 million next season and become a free agent. But Ayton hasn’t yet made a decision, according to people familiar with the situation not authorized to comment.
Lakers star Austin Reaves celebrates after shooting a three-pointer against the Thunder on Monday.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Marcus Smart, a locker room leader and their best defensive player, also has a player option for next season at $5.3 million. He hasn’t made a decision yet on whether he’ll test the free-agent market. According to several NBA executives, a few teams probably will show interest in him.
The deadline to exercise or decline an option is June 29.
Rui Hachimura’s ($18.2 million), Luke Kennard ($11 million), Maxi Kleber ($11 million) and Jaxson Hayes ($3.4 million) are also in the final year of their deals.
Doncic, who missed the playoffs and the last five games of the regular season with a Grade 2 left hamstring strain, signed a three-year, $165-million extension last summer, keeping him under contract through the 2027-28 season.
Jarred Vanderbilt ($12.4 million), Jake LaRavia ($6.0 million), Dalton Knecht (4.2 million), Bronny James ($2.2 million) and rookie Adou Thiero ($2.1 million) are under contract for next season.
WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court is leaving access to a widely used abortion pill untouched until at least Thursday, while the justices consider whether to allow restrictions on the drug, mifepristone, to take effect.
Justice Samuel A. Alito Jr.’s order Monday allows women seeking abortions to continue obtaining the pill at pharmacies or through the mail, without an in-person visit to a doctor. It prevents restrictions on mifepristone imposed by a federal appeals court from taking effect for the time being.
The court is dealing with its latest abortion controversy four years after its conservative majority overturned Roe vs. Wade and allowed more than a dozen states to effectively ban abortion outright.
The case before the court stems from a lawsuit Louisiana filed to roll back the Food and Drug Administration’s rules on how mifepristone can be prescribed. The state claims the policy undermines the ban there, and it questions the safety of the drug, which was first approved in 2000 and has repeatedly been deemed safe and effective by FDA scientists.
Lower courts concluded that Louisiana is likely to prevail, and a three-judge panel of the U.S. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that mail access and telehealth visits should be suspended while the case plays out.
The drug is most often used for abortion in combination with another drug, misoprostol. Medication abortions accounted for nearly two-thirds of all abortions in the U.S. in 2023, the last year for which statistics are available.
The current dispute is similar to one that reached the court three years ago.
Lower courts then also sought to restrict access to mifepristone, in a case brought by physicians who oppose abortion. They filed suit in the months after the court overturned Roe.
The Supreme Court blocked the 5th Circuit ruling from taking effect over the dissenting votes of Alito and Justice Clarence Thomas. Then, in 2024, the high court unanimously dismissed the doctors’ suit, reasoning they did not have the legal right, or standing, to sue.
In the current dispute, mainstream medical groups, the pharmaceutical industry and Democratic members of Congress have weighed in cautioning the court against limiting access to the drug. Pharmaceutical companies said a ruling for abortion opponents would upend the drug approval process.
The FDA has eased a number of restrictions initially placed on the drug, including who can prescribe it, how it is dispensed and what kinds of safety complications must be reported.
Despite those determinations, abortion opponents have been challenging the safety of mifepristone for more than 25 years. They have filed a series of petitions and lawsuits against the agency, generally alleging that it violated federal law by overlooking safety issues with the pill.
President Trump’s administration has been unusually quiet at the Supreme Court. It declined to file a written brief recommending what the court should do, even though federal regulations are at issue.
The case puts Trump’s Republican administration in a difficult place. Trump has relied on the political support of antiabortion groups but has also seen ballot question and poll results that show Americans generally support abortion rights.
Both sides took the silence as an implicit endorsement of the appellate ruling. Alito is both the justice in charge of handling emergency appeals from Louisiana and the author of the 2022 decision that declared abortion is not a constitutional right and returned the issue to the states.
Sherman, Mulvihill and Perrone write for the Associated Press. Mulvihill reported from Haddonfield, N.J.
SAN DIEGO — President Trump nominated Cameron Hamilton on Monday to lead the Federal Emergency Management Agency, a surprising comeback for the former Navy SEAL who was fired from his role as FEMA’s temporary leader last year after he defended its existence.
His nomination comes as the Trump administration has increasingly signaled it is backing away from promises to dismantle FEMA, an agency that has faced withering criticism by the president. The nomination of Hamilton, who argued abolishing FEMA was not in the country’s best interests, is the latest indication of that change.
If confirmed, Hamilton would be the principal advisor to Trump and Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin on emergency management and FEMA’s first permanent administrator in Trump’s second term. The agency has gone through three temporary leaders, including Hamilton’s brief tenure from January to May 2025.
He would take over an embattled agency still reeling from Kristi Noem’s turbulent leadership of the Department of Homeland Security, of which FEMA is part. FEMA’s workforce has been worn down by mass staff departures, policies that hamstrung operations and a 75-day-long Homeland Security shutdown that ended April 30.
Hamilton will need to ensure the agency is prepared for summer disaster season, just weeks away, while answering to Trump, who is likely to expect major reforms after a council he appointed recommended sweeping changes on Friday.
“Now is the opportunity to stabilize FEMA,” said Michael Coen, the agency’s chief of staff in the Obama and Biden administrations.
Fired after defending FEMA
Hamilton, who had never been a state or local emergency management director and who had publicly criticized FEMA in the past, was a controversial choice when Trump named him temporary leader in January 2025, just days before the president floated the idea of “getting rid” of FEMA.
His rupture with Homeland Security officials began as he defended a federal role in supporting disaster-affected states, tribes and territories.
“Once the conversation shifted to, ‘Now we’re going to abolish,’ I immediately expressed concern,” he said in September on the “Disaster Tough” podcast with John Scardena, a former FEMA incident management team leader.
Homeland Security officials even subjected him to a polygraph test, accusing him and other officials of leaking details of a private meeting. He passed but said he knew his dismissal was inevitable.
At a May 7, 2025, appearance before a House Appropriations subcommittee, Rep. Rosa DeLauro, a Connecticut Democrat, asked Hamilton if he believed FEMA should be abolished.
“I do not believe it is in the best interest of the American people to eliminate the Federal Emergency Management Agency,” he replied. The next day, he was fired.
Hamilton will have to rebuild trust
Defending FEMA despite knowing it would probably cost him his job generated respect and trust among people whose job it is to lead communities through crisis, said Scardena, now president of the consultancy Doberman Emergency Management Group, which trains emergency managers.
“He won myself over and I think a lot of people by what he did,” Scardena said.
But multiple current FEMA employees who requested anonymity for fear of retribution for speaking publicly told the Associated Press they had concerns over some of the actions taken under Hamilton.
In 2024, Hamilton shared posts on X promoting misinformation about FEMA spending during Hurricane Helene.
During his temporary leadership, FEMA ceased door-to-door canvassing to reach survivors after disasters, and canceled a multibillion-dollar resilience grant program, since restored by a federal judge. The Department of Government Efficiency gained access to internal FEMA networks containing survivors’ private information. FEMA staff were fired for fulfilling a reimbursement payment to New York City for housing undocumented immigrants as part of FEMA’s Shelter and Services program.
Hamilton has said he believes FEMA needs major reform. He has said that he wants FEMA to move faster, that the agency is saddled with responsibilities he sees as outside its remit, and that some states have become too dependent on the agency. A Trump-appointed council last week urged sweeping changes to FEMA, which would require congressional action.
“I think he’s going to need to rebuild trust across the agency,” said Deanne Criswell, FEMA administrator under former President Biden, adding that she believes Hamilton cares about FEMA and she appreciated his outreach to emergency management directors and former officials during and after his tenure.
Senate confirmation process could raise questions of experience
Hamilton could face pushback in the Senate confirmation process over never having led an emergency management agency, a common stepping stone to becoming administrator of an agency with over 21,000 employees.
Federal law requires the FEMA administrator to have “a demonstrated ability in and knowledge of emergency management and homeland security” and at least five years of “executive leadership and management experience.”
Hamilton trained as a Navy hospital corpsman before spending a decade as a Navy SEAL on SEAL Team Eight. He then became a U.S. State Department emergency management specialist handling overseas crisis response, then directed emergency medical services at the Department of Homeland Security.
WASHINGTON — The chair of the House Oversight Committee has sent a letter to OpenAI Chief Executive Sam Altman requesting information about potential conflicts of interest between Altman’s personal investments and his operation of the company.
The letter, sent Friday, comes amid a high-stakes legal battle currently playing out in an Oakland federal courtroom between one-time partners Altman and Elon Musk, the world’s richest man, who in 2015 co-founded the AI company best known for creating ChatGPT.
The company was first established solely as a non-profit corporation and the letter sent to Altman by Rep. James Comer (R-Ky.), the Republican chair of the Oversight committee, indicates that the committee is “investigating potential conflicts of interest involving capital from nonprofit corporations invested in startups and other for-profit companies.”
Comer has requested by May 22 a briefing from the company official responsible for oversight of potential conflicts involving company officers and directors, including Altman, as well as all documents related to conflict of interest policies and guidance for those executives.
While OpenAI was created as a non-profit designed to responsibly harness the power of the emerging artificial intelligence technology, the company created a for-profit subsidiary in 2019 and three years later released ChatGPT, which jumpstarted widespread adoption of the technology.
Musk, the chief executive of Tesla, left Open AI’s board in 2018, one year before the creation of the for-profit arm. He is arguing that Altman and another co-founder, Greg Brockman, betrayed the original mission of the non-profit organization, driven by their desire to “cash in” on the technology.
Musk added Microsoft, a significant investor in OpenAI, to the lawsuit in 2024. OpenAI is rumored to be gearing up to go public later this year or early next, and was recently valued at $852 billion.
Musk has said that he invested $38 million in the OpenAI non-profit, but he does not stand to benefit from a potential OpenAI public offering.
He created a rival company xAI in 2023 that was later folded into his company SpaceX
In the lawsuit, Musk is seeking $150 billion in damages, for Altman to be removed from the company and for the company to be fully returned to its non-profit status.
Musk’s complaint also alleges that Altman engaged in self-dealing by directing OpenAI to pursue deals with companies in which he also held a personal stake, including nuclear fusion power company Helion.
Comer’s letter cites reporting that Altman’s pursuit of a Helion deal, which is still ongoing, would come at a lofty valuation of the power-company, boosting the company’s worth, and the value of Altman’s investment.
Altman was briefly forced to step down from leadership of OpenAI in 2023 in part due to concerns about potential conflicts between his personal investments and his operation of the company, but was soon reinstated.
While the company’s board created an audit committee to investigate the potential conflicts of Altman and other officers, the findings were never disclosed.
Comer has requested that Altman turn over all documents and communication related to that audit committee.
Representatives for OpenAI did not immediately respond to requests for comment.
The undefeated and untested son of Nyquist was made the co-second choice on the morning line when post positions were drawn Monday afternoon at Laurel Park, the temporary home of the Preakness while Pimlico — about 30 miles north — is being rebuilt. Laurel Park, located halfway between Baltimore and Washington, D.C., has never hosted the Preakness, which will start just after 4 p.m. PDT on NBC.
With Golden Tempo becoming the second straight Kentucky Derby winner and third in the last five years to race in the Preakness, there will be just three runners from the Derby — Ocelli (third), Incredibolt (sixth) and Robusta (14th).
Among the full field of 14 starters, though, only Taj Mahal can complete the “Triple Crown” for women trainers, with Russell seeking to follow DeVaux and Jena Antonucci, who captured the Belmont three years ago with Arcangelo.
“It would sort of feel like probably a fairy tale,” Russell said. “ … It would mean an awful lot.”
Taj Mahal was one of three horses listed at 5-1 on the morning line behind lukewarm 9-2 favorite Iron Honor. He is the only Preakness starter who has raced at Laurel; in fact, he has never run anywhere else, going three for three there, including an 8¼-length triumph last month in the Federico Tesio.
His Beyer Speed Figure that day was 92, just two points (equal to about a length) behind Ocelli’s number in the Kentucky Derby. Chip Honcho, with a 92 for his runner-up effort in the Risen Star in February, is the only other Preakness horse with a Beyer number above 90 in a route race.
Taj Mahal was in the same yearling sale as Iron Honor (also a son of Nyquist) in September 2024 at Keeneland and sold for $50,000 more than his rival this week ($525,000 to $475,000). The colt originally was trained by Bob Baffert but was sent to Russell last fall when he wasn’t progressing.
“When he first showed up, it took some time for him to come around,” Russell said. “And, honestly, that’s why he was sent my way. If horses aren’t progressing or need a change of scenery, luckily for me it’s kind of become their place [for the owners] to send them.
“… The first time I worked him, did I think he would become a star? No, it took some time, but he developed and he progressed.”
Taj Mahal won a maiden race Feb. 6, then came back 15 days later to win a minor stakes race. He had almost two months between that race and the Tesio on April 18.
Russell’s husband, Sheldon, will ride Taj Mahal, who will break from the rail.
“To be fair, he’s a good gate horse,” Sheldon Russell said. “He broke so sharp last time. If he were to do the same thing again, he’d put me in a great spot. We’ve just got to hold that spot until we get to the bend, but we’ve got a longer run this time. He’s going to have to overcome a few things, but good horses overcome things.”
Iron Honor, who joins Taj Mahal as the most inexperienced horses in the field with three starts each, won his first two races, including the Gotham at Aqueduct. But he finished seventh last month in the Wood Memorial, his only try around two turns. He will be ridden for the first time by Flavien Prat.
“[He] got bothered in the first turn from a bad post and … just never really relaxed,” said his trainer, Chad Brown, who won the Preakness in 2017 (Cloud Computing) and 2022 (Early Voting). “We took the blinkers off the horse, gave him a chance to get over that experience and he seems to be in a good place right now, training just the way we want.”
The other horses listed at 5-1 were Incredibolt, who wasn’t even mentioned as a possibility for the race until Monday, and Chip Honcho, who finished ahead of Golden Tempo in the Risen Star but skipped the Derby after a poor showing in the Louisiana Derby. Ocelli is 6-1, and Napoleon Solo, the only Grade 1 winner in the field (last year’s Champagne Stakes), is 8-1.
Incredibolt, trained by Riley Mott, at least spares the Preakness from not having a single graded-stakes winner in a two-turn race. The son of Bolt d’Oro captured the Grade 3 Street Sense last fall over 1 1/16 miles at Churchill Downs. (He also won the ungraded Virginia Derby this year at 1⅛ miles at Colonial Downs.)
Chip Honcho will break from the No. 6 post under Jose Ortiz, who won the Derby. Ortiz’s brother, Irad Ortiz Jr., who was second in the Derby with Renegade, will be next to him in the No. 5 post aboard Talkin.
Ocelli is the most experienced horse in the race, with seven starts. He’s also the only starter not to have won a race. No maiden has won the Preakness in the modern era, with the last victory coming in 1888. Bodexpress was the last to try, in 2019, but he reared leaving the starting gate and dumped his jockey.
Digital entertainment company BuzzFeed Inc. is selling its majority stake to Los Angeles entertainment mogul Byron Allen for $120 million.
BuzzFeed announced the sale late Monday, saying Allen Family Digital had agreed to pay $3 a piece for 40 million shares, representing a 52% stake in the company.
Allen will pay $20 million in cash upfront with the remaining $100 million due in five years.
As part of the deal, Allen also will take over HuffPost, another internet pioneer, owned by BuzzFeed.
The sale is expected to close later this month. BuzzFeed founder and current chief Jonah Peretti will transition to a new role as president of BuzzFeed AI.
Allen will become chairman and chief executive.
“This investment in our business and Byron’s management roles will provide liquidity and operational focus to BuzzFeed,” Peretti said in a statement.
BuzzFeed has been on the ropes, financially, for a number of years. It bought HuffPost in 2021 to bolster its readership and offerings to advertisers. Three years ago, it pulled the plug on its once ubiquitous BuzzFeed News unit.
BuzzFeed reported a $15 million net loss in the first-quarter of the year. The company generated $31.6 million in revenue, a 12.4% decline compared to the year-ago period. Ad revenue fell nearly 20% year-over-year to $17.1 million. However, content revenue grew more than 50% to $7.5 million.
BuzzFeed soon will make another round of significant cost cuts prior to Allen’s takeover, Peretti said in the statement. He added that BuzzFeed Studios and Tasty will spin off to form a new independent entity.
The deal comes at a busy time for Allen, a former stand-up comedian who is taking over CBS’ late night block later this month, replacing “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert,” which is being canceled by CBS and its owner Paramount Skydance.
Earlier this month, Allen sold television stations in nearly a dozen markets owned by the Allen Media Group to Atlanta-based Gray Media Inc. for about $170 million.
Allen still owns 13 network-affiliate stations in nearly a dozen markets, including the Weather Channel‘s linear and digital outlets, including PETS.TV and COMEDY.TV.
“Our vision is to build on the iconic foundation of BuzzFeed and HuffPost by expanding into free-streaming video, audio and user-generated content,” Allen said. “BuzzFeed is officially chasing YouTube to become another premiere free video streaming service.”
Maya Hawke sits at a picnic table in Griffith Park with an iced tea and a small notebook and happily reports that she still likes her new record.
“Every other album cycle I’ve done, by the time I got to the point where the album came out, I hated it,” says the 27-year-old singer and actor. “I was just exhausted by the internet and by being public, and I wouldn’t want to post about it. So I kind of tried to build this rollout where it could be enjoyable. And it seems to be working.”
On this recent morning, she’s about a week and a half from releasing “Maitreya Corso,” a set of deep-thinking folk-pop songs about love and art and how the two intersect; to help drum up interest in the LP, Hawke’s fourth, she’s on tour playing intimate live gigs like the one she did last night at the Troubadour, where she was accompanied by Christian Lee Hutson, with whom she made the record.
Hutson, who’s known for his work with Phoebe Bridgers, is also Hawke’s husband: After collaborating on her 2022 album “Moss” and 2024’s “Chaos Angel,” the two were married this past Valentine’s Day in Hawke’s hometown of New York. (You may have seen the pictures in People magazine of the couple on the street with Hawke’s parents, Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman, and her castmates from “Stranger Things.”)
As we talk, Hawke wears the same vintage Beastie Boys T-shirt she had on at the Troubadour; when we’re finished, she’s got a flight to catch to Denver for her and Hutson’s next show.
I was struck last night by the intense eye contact between you and your husband. I’ve never played guitar before onstage, and so I think a lot of that is me being nervous and wanting to keep rhythm. I’m looking at his eyes but also at his hands. His chordal shapes are different than mine but I’m following the rhythm to make sure I’m staying in the pocket.
Why didn’t you play guitar before? I’ve been playing since I was 11, but I reached a point where I was getting better a lot slower than my brother was or than other people in my life. You pick up the guitar to play and then a bunch of guys sit down next to you and they’re like, “Oh, can we jam?” And you’re like, “I don’t know if I can jam. I was trying to write a song and now you’re noodling all over me. You know what? I’ll just put it down.” Later, when I started making music professionally, I met all these extraordinary musicians, and I thought: Why would I play guitar when I’m not as good as you are? Then I really hated doing shows.
Because of that? I’m not a dancer — I don’t want to be a pop star and do dance moves. I don’t have a big Adele voice. And standing up there and just singing — I was like, I should be at a poetry reading. So I made myself a promise that if I made another record I would have to play guitar and write songs that I can play.
It’s funny: You were both super locked-in during the songs, but then between them your banter was extremely loose. I wanted to build a show that was a concert I would want to go see. I’m weird — I don’t love concerts, but I do I like it when people talk. I can hear the record at home — what I don’t get at home is a sense of the person.
Who would you say are some of music’s great between-song talkers? Hmm.
I think Adele might be the best I’ve seen. She’s really good. I saw her once when I was younger — I had a year where my dad took me to see all the biggest women of that year. I remember thinking: When I leave the theater, I’m filled only with joy and no jealousy because I could never do what she’s doing. That’s a gift from God, and I’m not in competition with that gift.
But after she hits you with that, she’ll just freestyle for three or four minutes. That’s what I want too — I want to see some humanity, especially these days when everybody is being force-fed so much perfection and so much unattainable grace.
There are a tremendous number of words on this record. It’s very verbose.
Why? I love words — lyrics are my favorite part of songs. One of the first songs that got written for this record was “Devil You Know,” which was like an experiment where I wrote this poem in free verse. I’ve been in a fight with my husband about free verse versus poetic form. He’s pro-free-verse, I’m anti-free-verse.
What’s your beef? My beef is: Free verse is great — I wish you could have spent a little more time making it rhythmically sound.
To you it feels like — Like a first draft. The confines of a structure make your brain work in a different way: How do I get this idea across in a sonnet or a villanelle? But I tried writing this free verse thing, and I really liked it and wanted to write more things like that. Normally, I love the arrow of a Willie Nelson lyric, which is: What’s the simplest way I can say the most complicated thing? And I have some of that on this record, like in “Bring Home My Man.” But I also was like, What’s the most complicated way I can say the simplest thing?
OK, speaking of that: I read the essay you had this philosopher Justin Smith-Ruiu write about the album. I understood probably 11% of it. I’m obsessed with him. I read his Substack religiously — it’s called the Hinternet. He’s just a brilliant genius, and I was like, I don’t know what he’s gonna say, and I don’t know if it’ll make sense to anyone, but it’ll make sense to me.
Honestly, some of the songs might also have gone over my head. How important is it to you that the listener grasps everything that’s going on in your music? Zero percent important. I want people to take from it what they take from it. One of the coolest things in my life has been putting out songs and having people form crazy personal attachments — sometimes communal attachments, where all the people think it’s about the same thing and they’re all wrong. That’s so much more interesting to me than if they just thought it was exactly what I thought it was.
How do you listen to the songs you love? Are you trying to figure out where they came from? Yes, but I don’t care if I’m right. I’ve had many a debate about what [Elliott Smith’s] “Say Yes” is about — gone through the lyrics with friends and been like, “Wouldn’t you say that this supports my theory?” But it doesn’t matter to me what it is. It’s just fun to try to connect all the dots.
Maya Hawke and Christian Lee Hutson in New York in March.
(Ilya S. Savenok / Getty Images for Tibet House US)
Break down the chronology of your and Christian’s relationship. You made this record not as married people but — As engaged people.
How did that compare to the previous album? When we made “Chaos Angel” we were maybe in a slightly uncanny valley of being friends who were in love but not together at all. But our working dynamic has always been pretty amazing, even from when we met doing “Moss.” Christian was really the person who made me want to play guitar and write music. He was like, “What do you mean your music isn’t good enough? Why, because you didn’t go to jazz school? I didn’t go to jazz school.” That kind of belief really shaped my journey from “Moss” until this record.
Are you the type of person who needs a facilitator? I really enjoy support and encouragement, and I often need permission.
I wonder why. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was talking to someone, and I was like, I want to spend less time with this person, but I want them to want to spend less time with me. I don’t want to be the one to draw the boundary — I need their permission to draw a boundary between us. My therapist was like, “We can work on that.”
Is this classic child-actor people-pleasing stuff? I wasn’t a child actor.
When did you start? I did my first audition at 15 but I didn’t get the part. Then I didn’t end up working until I was 18.
I’d argue that at 18 the world still sees you — As a young person, yeah.
But I take your point. I don’t know what it has to do with. It’s not exactly people-pleasing. There’s definitely an oldest-sibling thing I have a bit. I’m very interested in sibling-order theory. I think it’s extremely influential to who people are — better than astrology, for sure.
You’re older? I’m oldest of five. Generally, when I meet eldest siblings, there’s a kind of interesting energy of someone who both needs to be in charge and needs a lot of permission.
Has anything changed about the way you and Christian collaborate since you got married? We’re really happy, and we’ve been really happy. It’s awesome that we were friends for a long time first. When I got into relationships in the past, I would kind of pick the person that liked me the least. I didn’t like myself very much, and I thought that someone who didn’t like me must be a genius and that I could overcome my inherent ineptitude by getting them to like me. And in order to get them to like me, I would transform myself into becoming a person that they would like. Then we’d have a very happy couple of months until I got bored of not being myself. What being friends with someone first did was that it made it very hard to trick them.
Some of these new songs seem very clearly to be about the two of you. Totally. A lot of this record is about how much I learned about what love really is — what it could be and how to be good to another person. My ideas about those things really transformed in the last couple of years.
As a child of divorce, were you ambivalent about marriage? I think if anything it was the reverse. I wanted to get married twice in my life. Once was when I was 18 years old, and it was definitely mental illness: I want the nuclear family that I didn’t have, and I want it now. Then I was kind of neutral on whether or not I would get married. Then I met Christian, and I was like, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in this kind of relationship, but you’re my person.” And we stayed in each other’s lives until it ended up being the right time.
Plenty of people find their person without wanting to have a wedding. Are you a romantic?
I’m not sure I know. When I was younger, I imagined myself in a sort of French marriage where we both cheated on each other but didn’t talk about it and had a lot of mutual respect. But I didn’t find a French marriage — I found my best friend. You know what a piece of s— I am and you still love me? I wake up every morning still happy to see you? That’s a miracle — we gotta have a party.
Last thing: Did finishing “Stranger Things,” which had defined the structure of your life for so long — did that change the way you think about making music? It’s changed the way I think about everything. Basically, from about four months before the show wrapped until a year after that, I was pretty freaked out.
Because you knew a big change was coming? Because I didn’t know how I would be reborn out of it. Even when I was resentful of being like, “I’m booked, and I can’t do this other thing that I want to do,” the show was so grounding. I was really lost without it. I’m not freaked out about it anymore, but I’m in a renegotiation of the structure of what I want my life to look like.
Do you feel some kinship with your former castmates on that? Everyone freaked out in different amounts and at different times and to different degrees of wanting to talk about it. But we all collectively had a very, very intense time moving through the last season.
You’ve got upcoming acting projects — I didn’t actually die like I thought I was going to.
But did the end of that job create space for music to play a bigger role in your life? In some ways, it could become smaller. I had an ensemble part in a show that takes a year to film, which creates a tremendous amount of waiting-around time. I think that’s why so many “Stranger Things” actors have musical projects: You can’t film anything else but you can sit in your house with your keyboard. What I’ve really been feeling since the show ended was an invigorated desire to double down on acting. I’ll never not make music, but the music industry is difficult for me. I don’t know if it’s just that I was raised in the acting industry and I understand the things that are f— up about it better.
The music biz feels more opaque to you? I struggle with some of the things that one should do in that industry to grow their project. When you’re promoting a movie, you’re on a team promoting an external item. When you promote a record, you’re doing self-promotion: “Buy my stuff. Do my thing. Put me on your chest.” It feels a little too “Look at me,” which isn’t my comfort zone.
Better start making those TikToks. Yeah, I can’t. I really can’t.
When Kevin Hart announced in January that he’d licensed his name to Authentic Brands Group, the popular comedian was silent on a key detail: the future of his namesake media company.
Hart sold some ownership and oversight of his brand in exchange for an undisclosed sum of money and a stake in Authentic, a New York-based firm that manages the likenesses of Marilyn Monroe, Muhammad Ali, Shaquille O’Neal and David Beckham.
Hart used the partnership with Authentic to reset his relationship with the people around him and his company, according to six current and former employees. Hart’s employees say they worry that this deal marks the beginning of the end of Hartbeat, the comedian’s namesake media company that produces films, owns a network of short-form video channels and handles marketing for brands.
Though the announcement made no mention of Hartbeat, the agreement gave Hart money to buy out his private equity partner in the company over time and regain control of the use of his name, image and likeness. Hart’s endorsement deals, which had been a pillar of Hartbeat business, will now be handled by Authentic.
Once valued at about $650 million, Hartbeat has shriveled over the past few years. The company enacted its latest round of job cuts in December, firing the heads of its scripted TV division, as well as employees working across marketing, social media and brand partnerships, said the people. Earlier this year it let go the leaders of its podcast division and later sued them for breach of contract.
Hart has withdrawn from the company, leaving day-to-day management in the hands of a small group of executives. Staff meetings have been canceled. The development of new film and TV projects has slowed. A slate of new podcasts was pitched but never produced.
Hartbeat’s struggles reflected the challenging environment for many Hollywood production companies as media giants merge and cut spending. The company is also a cautionary tale in this age of the celebrity media mogul. Financial firms have plowed money into media companies led by high-profile figures, believing they could use their notoriety to build valuable businesses. Yet even seemingly successful ones have had a hard time.
Hartbeat, like many of its peers, has suffered from mismanagement and grappled with the tension between the needs of the star and his company. Hart, one of the hardest-working people in Hollywood, tired of subsidizing a company that relied so much on him
Hart declined to comment for this story, which is based on conversations with several current and former employees. On Sunday night, Hart, who hosted the widely viewed roast of NFL great Tom Brady two years ago, was the subject of his own roast on Netflix.
Building a Billion-Dollar Business
One of the most successful stand-up comedians and actors of his generation, Hart, 46, has always been entrepreneurial. In 2017, he started Laugh Out Loud, an online video comedy business that later grew to include branded entertainment. He also operated his own production company, Hartbeat Productions, that made programs for streaming services like Peacock, Quibi and Netflix Inc.
With Hollywood in the midst of a production boom, Hart watched his fellow celebrities get rich from their media enterprises. Reese Witherspoon sold her media company, Hello Sunshine, in a deal that valued it at as much as $900 million. Hart’s friend LeBron James raised money for his company, SpringHill, at a valuation of $725 million. Hart believed he could be next.
In late 2022, Hart merged his business interests under the Hartbeat banner and raised money by selling a 15% stake to the private equity firm Abry Partners. The deal valued the company at about $650 million.
The new business was predicated on three pillars: film and TV, short-form video and advertising. Hartbeat had a deal to produce movies for Netflix, a slate of podcasts for SiriusXM Holdings Inc. and original audio series for Audible. Hartbeat also developed relationships with advertisers such as Lyft Inc., Procter & Gamble Co. and DraftKings Inc.
While Hart would star in Hartbeat projects, the goal of the company was to develop projects and new business that didn’t involve its namesake founder. The company could leverage Hart to sell projects and secure broad programming partnerships. Hart would ask that Hartbeat be involved in producing his movies and any advertising campaign for which he was a spokesperson. His fees as a producer and brand ambassador would help pay the bills. The hope was he’d convince other celebrities to use Hartbeat as well. Thai Randolph, who had been running Laugh Out Loud, was named chief executive officer.
Hartbeat opened offices in New York and Atlanta and took over a 40,000-square-foot West Hollywood office once occupied by Oprah Winfrey. Hart redesigned the space and installed a world-class art collection.
The upper-level lobby featured a work by Ghanaian artist Serge Attukwei Clottey, while the conference room had a sculpture by Zimbabwean artist Moffat Takadiwa made of computer keyboard keys. A portrait of Kobe Bryant by Julian Pace hung outside a podcast studio.
Hart’s own office featured a dressing room, a series of paintings by South African artist Feni Chulumanco, multiple TVs and a desk from a prominent French designer. “He really has almost a full-service apartment in his suite,” Kai Williamson, who worked with Hart on the project, told Architectural Digest. Hart was interviewed for a story and also filmed an episode of the design magazine’s “Open Door” video series.
While Hartbeat expanded, Hollywood entered a recession. Economic uncertainty, rising interest rates and growing skepticism about the profitability of streaming caused major media companies to fire staff and pull back on buying new projects. Hartbeat was a little more insulated than most because talent like Hart could usually still get a project made. Still, producing projects without Hart in a starring role became more difficult.
Randolph left the company in late 2023 and was replaced by Jay Levine, who had spent much of his career at Warner Bros. Discovery Inc. Levine brought in a couple of other senior leaders with experience at major media companies.
A contingent of executives pushed Hart to scale back some ambitions, the people said. The company couldn’t afford to be working in so many different businesses at the same time, especially as areas like free, advertising-supported online video, and podcasts got more competitive. Hart was one of the most prolific and productive creative people in the world, starring in and producing movies, TV shows, comedy, short-form videos and advertisements. The point of the company was to relieve the stress on him, not add to it.
While Hartbeat closed its New York office, Hart was reluctant to scale back his vision or replace some long-time lieutenants. Levine negotiated his exit at the end of 2024 and was followed out the door by the company’s chief financial officer and chief content officer. Days before Thanksgiving, Hartbeat laid off about 20 people, nearly one quarter of its work force.
A year of chaos and conflict
In January 2025, Hart announced he would be the new CEO of Hartbeat and pledged to outline the firm’s strategy in the coming weeks. Instead, Hart went weeks and sometimes months without visiting the office, the people said, and empowered Jeff Clanagan and CFO Eric Stoneburner to run the company day to day. (Hart was on set to shoot at least a couple movies last year, in addition to his other work.)
A former concert promoter and movie producer, Clanagan had helped make Hart a major star. He had partnered with Hart to bring his stand-up specials to the big screen, producing shows such as 2013’s Kevin Hart: Let Me Explain, which grossed $32 million at the box office. Clanagan produced some of these specials under the banner of his own company, Codeblack Films, which helps promote, market and distribute video from Black creators.
Clanagan continued to operate Codeblack while serving in a senior capacity at Hartbeat, said the people. He pushed employees at Hartbeat to post its videos to the Codeblack channels as well, saying they could use the additional reach to raise awareness. The videos generated advertising sales for Codeblack.
Clanagan had employees at Hartbeat oversee Codeblack’s social media pages and asked to get those channels loaded into Hartbeat’s content management system. That gave Codeblack’s YouTube channels advantages over others because of Hart’s prominence and his company’s designation with YouTube. Employees raised concerns with human resources and the company’s lawyer.
Clanagan also became increasingly interested in video generated by artificial intelligence. He started a new app called Blktopia, a streaming service for Black viewers programmed with content from online creators and often made by AI. He urged employees to work on it, the people said. Clanagan initially responded to a request for comment and then retracted the text message.
Meanwhile, many of Hartbeat’s main businesses languished. Sales from the company’s YouTube channels fell and investment in new film and TV projects slowed. Hartbeat, once profitable, started to bleed cash. Hartbeat had hired Eric Eddings and Lesley Gwam to produce audio shows that didn’t involve Hart. While the pair developed a slate of projects, they never got approval to make them.
In mid-December, Hartbeat fired about a dozen employees, including some of those who were supposed to develop the podcasts. Eddings and Gwam then decided to start their own company and began trying to raise money. When Clanagan found out, Hartbeat fired them and sued for alleged theft of trade secrets and breach of contract.
A court approved a temporary restraining order but then rejected a preliminary injunction, saying Hartbeat had not demonstrated Eddings and Gwam had used proprietary information or trade secrets. The court said the request was “vague, ambiguous, and overly broad.” The case is ongoing.
Hartbeat also fired the heads of its TV division, Tiffany Brown and Mike Stein, who were in the middle of producing a TV show based on the film Barbershop for Amazon.com Inc. and a second season of the animated series Lil Kev.
The company made no official announcement explaining the cuts. The following week, senior leadership arranged a Zoom meeting. Hart remained off camera until it was his time to speak. He talked for a few minutes about changes at the company and took no questions. Hart changed his phone number in the weeks following the layoffs. (Some of his advisors had suggested he do this years earlier so that he wasn’t so available.)
A few weeks later, Hart announced the deal with Authentic Brands Group. Hart used some of the proceeds to buy out Abry Partners, freeing him to steer his brand deals to Authentic and outside of Hartbeat. A few of his employees and his publicist joined him at Authentic.
“This is a turning point for Hartbeat,” the company wrote in a subsequent email to employees, explaining that the deal would free Hart up to focus on what he does best, while allowing Hartbeat to stand on its own and grow beyond him.
“I know the past few months have been tough,” Hart wrote, adding that for too long the company had been too dependent on him. The email was said to be from “Kevin AKA Boss Man.” It was sent by Hart’s assistant.
The Eurovision Song Contest is back once again and viewers around the world will be looking forward to their annual fix of the international music competition when it all kicks off this week
15:11, 11 May 2026Updated 15:11, 11 May 2026
Graham Norton will be front and centre for the grand final of Eurovision, with Angela Scanlon and Rylan Clark providing coverage throughout the week(Image: CREDIT LINE:BBC/BBC Studios)
The Eurovision Song Contest is back once again – with several acts from around the world ready to wow viewers in the hopes of winning the international competition.
In total, 35 countries will take part in the semi-finals whilst 25 will make it to the grand final of the whole thing, which will take place on Saturday 16 May. For the United Kingdom, YouTube star LookMumNoComputer will be on hand with Eins, Zwei, Drei, following on from entrants of recent years like Sam Ryder, Mae Muller, Olly Alexander and Remember Monday.
With current bookies’ odds of 5/4, Finland look set to become victorious this time round. The song is titled Liekinheitin, and it will be performed by violinist Linda Lampenius and singer-songwriter Pete Parkkonen.
Speaking about the track, the pair told The Independent: “The story behind this song is actually quite deep and sad. It’s about when you get involved with someone and let them fall in love with you, but when they get too close, you turn ice cold.
“The protagonist in Liekinheitin can either be seen as the victim of someone’s behaviour, or as a person who becomes addicted to other people, even when they know that the relationship will never evolve. It symbolises the passion these two people are experiencing, but it’s also the desperation that could kill you.”
Hot on their heels is Greece, with bookies giving the country odds of 6/1 after it was announced that Akylas will be representing them with the track Ferto. Over the years, Finland, who have competed a total of 58 times since debuting in 1961, have finished in last place on 11 occasions and won in 2006 with Hard Rock Hallelujah, which was performed by Lordi.
Just one year before their victory, Greece won with Helena Paparizou, who performed the track My Number One four years after she initially finished in third place with Die For You when she was part of the Eurodance duo Antique alongside Nikos Panagiotidis.
The semi-finals will kick off on Tuesday 12 May at 9pm on BBC One and will be hosted by Rylan Clark and Angela Scanlon, who will return to front the second heat at the same time on Thursday evening. Over on the radio, Sara Cox will be on hand with her commentary at the same time, and will also occupy a Wednesday slot from 4pm to 7pm.
Friday will see Murder on the Dancefloor singer Sophie Ellis-Bextor head up Eurovision Kitchen Disco for BBC Radio 2 from 9pm to 11pm, and will be back at 1pm on Saturday afternoon for Your Ultimate Eurovision Superstar! She will follow on from Dermot O’Leary, who will take to the airwaves from 8am until 10am and celebrate the song contest with his Radio 2 show.
Everything will come to a head at 8pm on Saturday 16 May when Graham Norton will be back to provide coverage as one country will be crowned the latest champion of the contest. International viewers may be able to stream the contest on its official YouTube channel but, in the UK, it remains exclusive to BBC One.
RYANAIR is axing MORE flights to Europe – hitting four popular airports this year.
The budget airline has confirmed that it would be closing its base at Thessaloniki as well as reducing flights at Athens.
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Greek holiday destinations Crete (pictured) as well as Athens and Thessaloniki are the latest to have Ryanair flights scrappedCredit: Alamy
Not only that, but off-season flights to Chania and Heraklion in Crete have been scrapped.
This means 700,000 fewer seats on sale this winter, working out to a 45 per cent reduction, and resulting in 12 routes being scrapped in total.
Ryanair has cited airport charges as the reason behind the reduction in flights, saying the airports are “no longer competitive” in the off peak season.
Ryanair’s Chief Commercial Officer, Jason McGuinness said they “regretted” the closures and reductions, but said it was because of the “failure to pass through the ADF reduction” unlike other airports in Greece.
He added: ” The Fraport Greece monopoly have hiked airport charges +66% since 2019.
“Unfortunately, there will now be less low-cost air fares for Thessaloniki’s citizens and visitors, and year-round tourism will be harmed as a result.
“These aircraft will be reallocated to Albania, regional Italy and Sweden, where airports have passed on their Govt’s aviation tax savings – resulting in more connectivity, tourism and jobs this Winter in those regions.”
Last summer, they airline confirmed two million seats across Spain would be scrapped, with all routes to Tenerife North, Santiago de Compostela, Vigo, Jerez and Valladolid cancelled.
NBCUniversal has ordered a TV adaptation of the popular New York Times puzzle Wordle that will be hosted by Savannah Guthrie.
Jimmy Fallon, whose company is co-producing the show, and Guthrie announced the series pick-up Monday on NBC’s “Today.” “Wordle” will begin production later this year and debut on NBC in 2027.
Guthrie filmed the pilot episode for Wordle last fall in Manchester, England, where the series will be made as well. The project from Universal Television Alternative Studio, Fallon’s Electric Hot Dog and The New York Times, has been in development for two and a half years.
Guthrie said she learned the show was picked up in February and was set to shoot episodes in March. But producers delayed the start as Guthrie went on a hiatus for two months after the disappearance of her mother Nancy.
“They just stopped everything and said, ‘we will wait for you, of course,’” Guthrie said. “And Hollywood is a really tough business as you know, and I didn’t expect that.”
Guthrie returned to “Today” on April 6. Law enforcement officials believe Nancy Guthrie was taken against her will from her Catalina Foothills home on Jan. 31. The investigation into her abduction is ongoing.
Guthrie did not mention the situation with her mother’s abduction, but indicated her game show duties will be another step toward normalcy. “I’m just determined to put one foot in front of the other,” she told colleagues.
Wordle asks players to guess a five-letter word in six chances through a process of eliminating letters. An individual player’s performance in the game can be posted online without revealing the answer, as the colored tiles are shown without the letters.
Offered as part of a subscription to a bundle of puzzles on the New York Times web site and app, Wordle has been a major driver of digital revenue for the company. The New York Times said earlier this year that users solved the Wordle puzzle 4.4 billion times in 2025.
Wordle was created by Brooklyn, N.Y.-based software engineer Josh Wardle in 2021. After it became an immediate hit online, the New York Times purchased it for a price reported to be in the low-seven-figure range.
No, on top of all that voters have been subjected to — the horror! — a dull and drab gubernatorial campaign, burdened by a surfeit of C- and D-list candidates with all the electricity and elan of a tepid bath.
That, anyway, is the perspective one gets reading a certain genre of campaign dispatch, written from the perspective that all of California, Land of Reagan and Schwarzenegger, home to Hollywood and Silicon Valley, incubator of the Next Big Thing, is a stage. Woe unto those who fail to entertain, animate or amuse.
With no glitz, no glamour, what’s a star-seeking, celebrity-hungry voter to do? If you believe the stereotype, Californians take their political cues more from Variety and In Touch magazine than, say, their voter guide or the flood of TV ads and campaign mailers that inundate the state every two years.
In truth, the Hollywood stars elevated to the governorship, Ronald Reagan and Arnold Schwarzenegger, have been the exception — spaced nearly four decades apart — and far from the norm. Both political insurgents were elected under extraordinary circumstances. Reagan amid the tumult and tectonic fracturing of the 1960s Civil Rights and Free Speech movements. Schwarzenegger in an unprecedented, rapid-fire recall of an enormously unpopular governor.
The three were, to use Newton’s description, “mainstream, politically tested, not flashy.” Which also happens to describe several of those currently aspiring to be governor.
Drab, but true.
Boring as it may seem, most Californians want someone who’ll focus on their workaday concerns, not jollification. For all the talk of the “attention economy” — the hearts and minds won by jokey memes, viral videos and other snackable morsels on social media — voters are much more focused on the real economy, which is to say putting food on their table, maintaining a roof over their head and keeping their car fueled and home at a bearable temperature.
“That may not be interesting to the punditry and the East Coast,” Madrid went on, “but it still matters. Reality still matters. The performative nature that has dominated our discourse for 10 years in the Trump era is fading away.”
Imagine, for a moment, if former Vice President Kamala Harris had jumped into the governor’s race, as contemplated. The contest, for all intents, would have ended then and there, save for months of airy speculation on which Democrat or Republican would make the November runoff en route to eventual defeat. That would have been boring.
In Harris’ absence,the sprawling field of candidates has been a good and healthy thing, yielding the most competitive California gubernatorial contest in a quarter century. Fears of a Democratic shutout in June’s top-two primary and a fluky Republican being elected — which were always overwrought — have faded dramatically. Even if they hadn’t, would it really be better for politicians in Sacramento and Washington to anoint the Democratic favorite and cut voters out of the equation?
MEMPHIS, Tenn. — For 21 years, Steve Fowler and Sam Wilson have performed together in a band on Memphis’ renowned Beale Street. And for the last decade, the men have been neighbors on a quiet, leafy avenue.
But as of Thursday, they will no longer cast the same ballot despite living across the street from each other.
That’s because Tennessee’s Republican-controlled Legislature redrew the congressional district of Memphis, which has long enjoyed its own Democratic-leaning U.S. House seat. Now, the city is split into three Republican-leaning districts, its majority-Black population sliced up and bound to mostly white, rural and conservative communities along lines that branch away from Fowler and Wilson’s East Memphis neighborhood.
A line runs down the middle of the street, placing Fowler in the 8th Congressional District, which runs hundreds of miles to central Tennessee across a dozen counties. Wilson is zoned for the 9th District, which extends across most of the state’s southern border before curving up to encompass the largely white and affluent Nashville suburbs.
“I think it’s horrible,” said Fowler, who is white. “This isn’t just going to be bad for Black folks in Memphis, but poor whites in these new districts also aren’t going to get services. How are any of these congressmen going to serve all these different counties?”
A national competition
The redraw was sparked by a ruling from the conservative majority of the U.S. Supreme Court that may be a death knell for congressional representation of majority-Black Southern communities such as Memphis.
For 60 years, a provision of the landmark Voting Rights Act required mapmakers to prove they were not discriminating against racial minorities in how they drew districts, often leading to political boundaries that allowed some minority communities to vote for their preferred representative rather than having their vote diluted by white majorities surrounding them.
The rule had the greatest effect in Southern states, where neighboring Black and white communities remain highly polarized in partisan politics.
On April 29, the justices severely weakened that requirement, ruling that the way courts had handled it improperly injected racial matters into redistricting in violation of the Constitution. Republicans across the South immediately leaped at the chance to redraw their maps before the November elections to eliminate as many Democratic-held, majority-minority congressional seats as possible.
Tennessee’s Legislature was the first in a GOP-controlled state to finalize a new map. But it is one of several Southern states — Alabama, Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi and South Carolina among them — engaged in a broader partisan redistricting competition sweeping the country.
Republicans have long complained that the Voting Rights Act prevented them from doing to Democratic, majority-Black districts what Democrats in states they control do to conservative-leaning, white and rural areas — scatter their voters for partisan gain.
That is what Tennessee Republicans did in their initial congressional map in 2021 to the state’s other large reservoir of Democrats in Nashville, where they did not have to step gingerly because that city is majority white.
“Tennessee is a conservative state and our congressional delegation should reflect that,” said Republican state Sen. John Stevens, who shepherded the bill for a new map that made all nine congressional districts solidly Republican.
The nationwide gerrymandering wars began after President Trump pressured Texas to redraw its map to favor Republicans. Some Democratic states, including California, countered by redrawing their congressional maps for partisan advantage. With the U.S. Supreme Court ruling reining in the Voting Rights Act and the Virginia Supreme Court’s decision to toss out voter-approved maps that favored Democrats in that state, the GOP has gained the upper hand.
A ‘central place’ in pursuit of racial justice
Wilson, the Memphis musician who is Black, was less distraught by the carving up of his neighborhood for partisan purposes. He saw the move as just another trial facing the city after a surge of federal agents sent by Trump to combat crime and amid narratives about Memphis’ safety from neighboring suburbs and Republican state lawmakers.
“It’s a hustling community. We’re going to make ends meet for our families,” Wilson said. “The legacy of Memphis is music and our civil rights history,” he said, adding the two were intertwined. “Hard times mean you’re going to try and find your gift. That’s what we do here; music in Memphis is a way of life.”
The Memphis district predates the Voting Rights Act. For at least a century, well before Congress acted to protect minority voting rights, Tennessee has believed it made sense for its metropolis on the Mississippi River to have its own U.S. House district. But since that law was passed in 1965, anyone who tried to split up the district for partisan gain could be sued and have the maps thrown out. Now, legal experts say that is not much of a risk.
Nonetheless, Democrats and civil rights groups are suing to block the map. The symbolism is especially sharp as the city is home to the National Civil Rights Museum, built around the motel where the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968. When the Legislature passed the new maps, Democrats and protesters shouted, “Hands off Memphis!” and waved signs accusing Republicans of bringing back Jim Crow.
“Memphis is not just any city; it holds a central place in the national story of our quest for racial justice in this country and how, over time, we have increasingly achieved civil, voting, and economic rights for all Americans,” said Eric Holder, a former U.S. attorney general who chairs the National Democratic Redistricting Committee. “Black citizens protested, marched and died there for the right to vote.”
A city-state divide
Memphis has faced dual stories in recent years. Billions of dollars in private investment and federal dollars have flooded into the area in recent years, but many local businesses still express concerns about a lagging regional economy.
Residents who spoke with the Associated Press expressed concerns about safety and public services but bristled at stereotypes about rampant crime. The twin stories are often on display in the river city, where pothole-filled streets run from empty storefronts to ornate mansion-filled neighborhoods and leafy college campuses only blocks away.
The city has long had a contentious relationship with the rest of the state, which voted for Trump in 2024 by a roughly 2-1 margin.
The conservative Legislature in Nashville has clashed repeatedly with Memphis and accused its leaders of broad mismanagement. Legislators passed a law blocking many police overhaul efforts in Memphis that were put in place after the death of Tyre Nichols, an unarmed Black man, at the hands of city police officers in 2023. It passed another measure seizing control of Memphis’ airport board and those of other cities across the state, and gave the state attorney general, also a Republican, the power to remove Memphis’ elected district attorney.
“The state Legislature is trying to take it over,” said U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen, the white Democrat who still represents the city in Congress until the new lines kick in after the midterms. “And that’s absurd. It was all partially because it’s a majority Black city.”
Lack of representation seen
Thomas Goodman, a politics and law professor at Rhodes College in Memphis, says the new congressional districts may lead to greater friction over who receives attention — and funding — from lawmakers. Memphis residents will soon share districts with Republican towns with starkly different economies, geographies and demographics. Whoever holds those congressional seats will have an incentive to pay attention to those voters and not to Memphis’ population.
“It would not only deprive Black Tennesseans of proper representation,” Goodman said. “These changes also break up the city of Memphis as an entity into multiple districts, thereby removing a dedicated agent in government who knows the people, who understands their concerns and can speak for them and deliver on behalf of their interests and desires.”
Chris Wiley’s house sits in what was, before last week, a quiet street in Midtown Memphis dotted with duplexes, tidy lawns and sports fields. Now his neighborhood will be carved apart at the intersection of three congressional districts. That is not surprising, he said, because “Tennessee is all about the dollar” rather than residents.
“Memphis is majority Black, so if you mess with that, what’s the point of even voting in Tennessee?” said Wiley, a 29-year-old sports stadium worker who is Black. “Whatever the congressional numbers, whatever that is, we don’t count on the scale as high, anyway.”
Brown writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Nicholas Riccardi in Denver and videojournalist Sophie Bates contributed to this report.
Addressing reporters on a recent flight to Algeria, Pope Leo XIV invoked the Gospel, called himself a peacemaker and pledged to keep speaking out on behalf of the downtrodden.
“Too many people are suffering in the world today,” he said. “Too many innocent people are being killed, and I think someone has to stand up.”
Pontiffs have a tradition of weighing in on global strife, and Leo’s words were in keeping with long-standing church teaching. Appearing in front of reporters in this fashion was also not new: Pope John Paul II began taking questions from journalists on the papal plane in the 1970s.
But the first American pope was in fact wading into an unprecedented political tempest — responding to a series of broadsides from President Trump that drew Leo into debates over the war with Iran, immigration policies and more, all while Catholics in the U.S. and around the world looked on.
Missionaries from Austin, Texas, gather for prayer in St. Peter’s Square on May 11, 2025.
(Marco Di Lauro / Getty Images)
With no permanent peace deal in sight to end the war, two of Trump’s top lieutenants — Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio, both Catholics and potential 2028 presidential candidates — have also been pulled into the fray. On Thursday, Rubio met Pope Leo at the Vatican in what he said was a long-planned diplomatic visit. Next month, Vance will release a memoir, “Communion: Finding My Way Back to Faith,” detailing his 2019 conversion to Catholicism.
Trump’s invective has not abated, even in the week his chief diplomat met the pontiff. Ahead of Rubio’s visit, Trump repeated his claim that Leo was “just fine” with Iran developing a nuclear weapon. In response, Leo said that his critics should go after him “truthfully,” noting that the Catholic Church has spoken out against all nuclear weapons.
Against the backdrop of this sparring, Rubio sought to downplay the drama after his official visit to the Holy See, which lasted about two hours. On X, he said the meeting with Leo focused on their “shared commitment to promoting peace and human dignity.”
The episode has revealed the unique power Leo holds on the U.S. stage, with his inherent understanding of the country’s politics and an ability to deliver his message in an accent that at times reveals his Chicago roots.
“He’s speaking in English and he’s American,” said Father James Martin, a Jesuit priest and author, most recently of the memoir “Work in Progress.” “People can’t dismiss him as not understanding the United States.”
For weeks, Leo has been asked to respond to a cascade of insults from Trump, including accusations that he is “weak on crime,” that he was chosen as pope because of Trump, and that the leader of the world’s 1.4 billion Catholics should “get his act together.”
In measured tones, Leo has repeatedly said he does not want to fight with the president. He counters that he is merely preaching the Gospel. On that flight in April, the pope told journalists: “I do not look at my role as being political, a politician. I don’t want to get into a debate with him.”
He added: “I will continue to speak out loudly, looking to promote peace, promoting dialogue and multilateral relationships.”
He may not be a politician, but Leo’s preaching, ranging from Iran to immigration and global warming, has touched a nerve with Trump. In the U.S., Catholics often serve as a powerful swing vote and hold a wide range of views on those issues. But even in a time of deep division and political malaise, enthusiasm for the pontiff, born and raised in the Chicago area, is hard to dismiss.
Leo’s ascendancy comes as engagement with the Catholic Church appears to be growing in the United States. Though comprehensive data are hard to come by, parishes are reporting renewed interest.
Mark Gray, a senior research associate at the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate at Georgetown University, said there was evidence of an increase in baptisms, a trend that appeared to predate Leo’s election as pope last May.
Some of the new American converts lean more conservative, experts said, part of a broader rise in traditionalism. Amid tensions over whether the church should focus more on traditional issues of morality, such as abortion and marriage, or global concerns like war and migration, Leo has stressed that all are welcome and that he wants the church to function as a big tent.
Making history
U.S. presidents have long sought to court the pope, mindful of the country’s sizable Catholic population and its potential as a swing vote in elections. Woodrow Wilson was the first president to meet with the pope, in 1919, during talks after the end of World War I. Since Dwight Eisenhower made a trip to Rome in 1959, every president has traveled to meet the pope, some more than once.
That includes Trump, who traveled to see Pope Francis in 2017, accompanied by First Lady Melania Trump and his daughter Ivanka Trump. He also attended Francis’ funeral in 2025.
Asked if there was any precedent for Trump’s clash with the pope, Steven Millies, a professor of public theology at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, invoked an English king who changed the course of church history: “Henry VIII invites a comparison,” he said. Henry rejected Catholicism in the 1500s and founded a new church in order to ratify a divorce rejected by the pope.
Though Trump — who is not Catholic — has not suggested any such schism, he certainly appears to have discarded most niceties. The president has not apologized for any of his comments, though he did, after widespread backlash, take down a social media post that appeared to depict him as Christ.
Trump is constitutionally blocked from seeking another term, so picking a fight with Pope Leo may not have lasting political implications for him. But it’s a different story for Vance and Rubio, both of whom may need to appeal to the country’s Catholic voters to further their ambitions.
In the 2024 election, the Catholic vote tilted more decisively to the right, with 55% supporting Trump compared with 43% for Kamala Harris, according to the Pew Research Center. Four years earlier, Catholics were evenly divided, with 50% supporting Joe Biden, a practicing Catholic, and 49% backing Trump.
Rubio noted as he headed to Rome that “obviously we had some stuff that happened” between the White House and the Vatican. Vance, who has frequently expressed his support for the pope but is also known for his often-punchy defense of the president’s positions, drew some derision in April when he was asked at a conference about Trump’s comments and suggested that Leo should “be careful when he talks about matters of theology.”
Pope Leo XIV exchanges gifts with U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio in the pope’s private library at the Vatican on Thursday.
(Vatican Media via Associated Press)
He later modified his tone, posting on X: “Pope Leo preaches the gospel, as he should, and that will inevitably mean he offers his opinions on the moral issues of the day. The President — and the entire administration — work to apply those moral principles in a messy world. He will be in our prayers, and I hope that we’ll be in his.”
Still, the rift could cloud the upcoming release of Vance’s memoir, overshadowing a book meant to burnish a potential 2028 bid with questions about Trump’s antagonism toward the pontiff.
Two Catholics have served as president — Biden and John F. Kennedy. During an era of stronger anti-Catholic sentiment, Kennedy famously gave a speech as a candidate emphasizing the separation of church and state. Biden was more openly devout, attending Mass every weekend and quoting Catholic hymns in his speeches. Vance is the second Catholic vice president, following Biden’s two terms as President Obama’s deputy.
In a statement, White House spokeswoman Taylor Rogers said Trump’s social policies were a boon for U.S. Catholics and alluded to electoral politics without mentioning the pope. “President Trump has great respect for the more than one billion Catholics around the world, especially the Catholic Americans who helped power his landslide election victory in 2024,” she said.
The Midwestern pontiff
It’s been a year since the man born Robert Prevost in 1955 stepped out onto the Vatican balcony as pope, a role that predates the United States by nearly 2,000 years. The first American pope’s compatriots quickly seized on his Midwestern upbringing (he’s a White Sox fan) and relatable family dynamics (one of his two brothers supports Trump). In a nod to his Chicago roots, an Iowa-based clothing store, Raygun, began selling a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Da Pope.”
Leo also served for years as Bishop of Chiclayo in Peru, building a global profile that helped propel him to the papacy. It hasn’t stopped Chicagoans from claiming him as one of their own — even showing up at the Vatican with Chicago-style deep-dish pizza.
Known as “Bob” before becoming Pope Leo, the new pontiff chose a name that clearly signaled his intentions as a leader, invoking memories of Leo XIII, an intellectual considered a pioneer of modern Catholic social teaching and an advocate for workers. Millies said the choice signaled that Leo wants to refocus on justice and care for others as well as the rising threats around the globe. Leo has cited artificial intelligence as one of those challenges.
With a more low-key presence than his predecessor, Pope Francis, some observers have labeled Leo as quiet. But as his tug of war with Trump shows, his messages are frequently not subtle. In fact, his reserved style may be a reflection of his Midwestern roots.
Pope Leo XIV presides over the Prayer Vigil for Peace at St. Peter’s Basilica, on April 11.
(Antonio Masiello / Getty Images)
This mild manner comes across in public statements that nonetheless make a lasting impact.
Last fall, Leo questioned Trump’s decision to rename the Department of Defense as the Department of War. “Let us hope it is just a way of speaking,” he said. More recently, he took aim at the president’s preferred method of communication, his social media site Truth Social. Asked about Trump’s vitriol on the platform, Leo said: “It’s ironic — the name of the site itself. Say no more.”
Perhaps no message has been clearer than the pope’s decision on how to spend the Fourth of July this year. For the nation’s 250th birthday, as Trump hosts a giant celebration, the pope will be an ocean away. His plans? Visiting Lampedusa, an Italian island that serves as a stop for migrants traveling to Europe.
For Vince Gervasi, chief executive of Triscenic Production Services, it was yet another body blow.
His company, a leading supplier of set and scenery storage and transportation for the film industry, was poised for a turnaround after nearly three years of losing money.
Then, last week, he said a line producer on “Shark Tank,” one of his long-standing clients, called him to say the hit ABC reality show was relocating production from the Sony Pictures Studios lot in Culver City to Atlanta.
“They said it was too expensive here to do anything,” Gervasi recalled being told. “I said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ This show has money.’”
For the last six years, Triscenic had dedicated a 70,000-square-foot warehouse at its Santa Clarita facility to store the show’s items, transporting them in 30 custom made semitrucks between seasons.
Battered by the pandemic, the dual labor strikes, economic downturns and consolidations, Gervasi told The Times in 2024 that he had laid off 78 of his 85 employees and winnowed down his once-buzzing operations that housed sets and scenery across 2 million square feet in 41 buildings to half that, with the expectation that things would bounce back.
Like many other local film industry veterans, he is still waiting.
Vince Gervasi, at Triscenic Production Services, in Santa Clarita.
(Bob Doyle)
“I’ve been doing this for 41 years. I’ve seen the good and the bad — this is a complete decimation. It’s unprecedented.”
From florists to prop rentals to catering and beyond, production services and craft businesses are the hub and spoke of L.A.’s film and TV industry. But many of these businesses — some of which have been family-operated for generations — are struggling to weather a post-pandemic slump in film activity deepened by runaway production, media consolidation and the end of the streaming boom.
Film shoot days in the Los Angeles region have fallen nearly 50% since 2019, according to FilmLA data reviewed by The Times. Employment in Los Angeles County’s motion picture and sound recording industry has similarly plummeted, with a loss of some 57,000 jobs in the last four years, federal labor data show.
The slowdown has become a major issue in the L.A. mayoral race as evidence mounts of the economic toll on the city.
Just last month major industry vendor Quixote — whose Star Waggons trailers were once ubiquitous on the streets of L.A. — announced that it was winding down most of its sound stage business in Los Angeles, closing its operations in Atlanta and laying off 70 employees.
In a note to its clients and partners, Hudson Pacific Properties Inc., Quixote’s parent company, said that “we have persisted through the prolonged and ongoing slowdown in commercial, television and film production. But ultimately, industry conditions have forced difficult decisions.”
Between 2022 and 2025, more than 80 such businesses across Los Angeles have closed down, according to a list compiled by the ACME Directory, a production resource that connects TV and film professionals with specialized products and services.
“It’s, in many ways, a much bigger reflection of the contraction we’re seeing in the industry right now,” said Kevin Klowden, a senior fellow at the Milken Institute, focused on entertainment and technology. “The surge in demand for streaming and the consequential demand to catch up on content hid the fact that the industry was shrinking.”
Last October, the family-run Costume Rentals Corp. began liquidating its inventory after dressing film and television characters for 50 years. The North Hollywood firm provided costumes for “Forrest Gump,” “Apocalypse Now,” “Fast and Furious” and, more recently, the 2024 Bob Dylan biopic, “A Complete Unknown.”
A year earlier, Valentino’s Costume Group closed its doors after two decades in business and sold off its 400,000 items. At the time, Shon LeBlanc, the North Hollywood shop’s last owner standing, said he had endured a “perfect storm” of calamities and was drowning in debt following the cancellation of 15 shows in a single week.
Even the legendary Western Costume, which has been in business since 1912, has been hurt by the slowdown. During the 2023 strikes by writers and actors, Western Costume furloughed 43 employees, or about two-thirds of its staff. Recently, the North Hollywood costume mecca, which has supplied such classic films as “Gone with the Wind,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “The Sound of Music” and the TV series “Mad Men,” furloughed an unspecified number of its workers, said two people familiar with the matter who were not authorized to speak publicly.
A representative of Western Costume did not respond to a request for comment.
Marc Meyer, the owner of Faux Library Studio Props, had strained to stay in business through the pandemic shutdown and the 2023 labor strikes — laying off 11 of his 13 employees.
By the start of 2024, Meyer, a set decorator who was credited with inventing the fake movie book, was drastically behind on rent, owing $500,000, he said.
Marc Meyer, closed the doors on Faux Library Studio Props in North Hollywood after almost 25 years in business.
(Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
Meyer’s landlord had given him a week to come up with more than $100,000 in unpaid rent or vacate the 89,000-square-foot warehouse in North Hollywood filled with props, books, antique furniture and other items that have decorated such film and TV sets as “Angels & Demons” and “The X-Files” for almost a quarter-century.
Meyer came up with $45,000 to mollify his landlord, garnering a month’s reprieve. A GoFundMe was set up during the strikes and a host of industry colleagues such as “Top Gun: Maverick” set decorator Jan Pascale stepped up, buying props to help fill his coffers.
“The change in our city is palpable,” said writer and director Sarah Adina Smith, a co-founder of Stay in LA’s, a grassroots campaign aimed at increasing film and television production in Los Angeles. “It’s not just that so many crafts and artists are out of work, but you see small businesses, too. In L.A., we’re an ecosystem fed in large part by creative jobs, and that is quickly vanishing.”
Marlon Gilbert still waxes nostalgic about the days his Commerce-based company, Gilbert Production Service, stored and transported scenery and props for TV shows including “Dancing with the Stars” and feature films like “Batman.” At one time, he said, he was handling seven active TV shows in a single season.
“When it was still on Fox, the ‘American Idol’ finale, we had like 20 semitrucks going in and out. Money was flowing like crazy,” he said. “But eventually times got hard for them, and they cut back on their production stuff.”
By last year, Gilbert was down to just three clients. “It wasn’t sustainable,” he said.
In December, after three decades, the family-owned business filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy and shut down too.
“I couldn’t pay rent on our warehouse lease, I blew through my savings and my 401(k),” he said. After his wife was hospitalized following multiple strokes in 2023, he said, “I didn’t have the energy to beat the bush for new business.”
“I would’ve liked to have gone out with more panache and made a big splash and money selling the business. But there was nothing left to sell.”
Scott Niner, president and owner of Dangling Carrot Creative, checks on a robotic machine as it fabricates at his shop in North Hollywood.
(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)
Scott Niner, president and owner of Dangling Carrot Creative, offers a case study in how production service businesses have navigated the tidal wave of upheavals.
After 18 years in business creating graphic signage, custom flooring and wallpaper to make sets look exactly as art directors dreamed up, the company filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy last April.
Before the pandemic, Niner’s Valencia-based business was thriving.
In 2014, he opened a Georgia satellite office to service the film and TV productions that had migrated to take advantage of the state’s generous tax credits. He steadily expanded his workforce to 32 employees in L.A. and Georgia.
Production was so plentiful that he even branched into the bakery business in 2018, delivering graphics and cupcakes in the same order. At its peak, Dangling Carrot generated $800,000 a month.
When the pandemic shutdown hit, Niner’s monthly revenue dropped to $50,000, he said. He kept his workers employed by making face shields that he donated to hospitals.
“I hung in there, and it was painful,” said Niner, who received some government assistance.
During the strikes in 2023, he drained his 401(k) and his union pension to keep his shop open and his workers employed.
Niner said he deployed a strategy of “pivoting and praying.” He shifted his business to focus more on fabrication, making giant 3-D-printed items for movie premieres, 25-foot-long, 8-foot-tall and 8-foot-deep ammo chests for a “Call of Duty” promotion and even graphics at airports.
Last last month, Niner sold off his Georgia business as filming in that state shifted to the U.K. He downsized his home and moved his business from Valencia to a much smaller building in North Hollywood. He is now down to 11 employees.
“I have a very bright outlook on the future, especially because we’re getting phone calls from people who never would have called us because all the other guys are out of business,” he said. “There’s something to be said about the last man standing. But I’m the last man standing on $2 million in debt. I’m more like lying down.”
The industry got a reprieve last week when CBS announced that it was relocating its hit drama “Tracker” to Los Angeles from Vancouver, Canada, after receiving a $48-million tax credit. Many view such moves, however, as small wins over comprehensive ones.
“There’s been a fundamental change happening here over the past five years,” said Cale Thomas, a makeup artist who has worked on “Guardians of the Galaxy 3” and the recent biopic “Michael.”
Thomas, who is a member of Stay in LA, acknowledges that California’s step last year to double its tax incentives has helped to spur an uptick in local production, but that has not stopped the outflow of productions or resolved a host of restrictions and costs that have hampered the industry.
He worked on “The Mandalorian” and other Lucasfilm series that stream on Disney+ for five years. “We shot in Manhattan Beach Studios,” he said, but noted that Lucasfilm has since moved one show to the U.K. and produced two others there.
“This has been devastating for our industry,” he said. “Hundreds of generational family businesses aren’t being used anymore.”
The pain points are not confined to Hollywood.
Last year, Marvel Studios — which had made Georgia, known as Hollywood of the South, its primary filming center for such major franchises as “Avengers: Infinity War” — relocated much of its production to the U.K.
The impact has meant even fewer domestic productions causing an even bigger ripple effect.
Among the high-profile casualties was Hackman Capital Partners, which aggressively snapped up studios, acquiring $10 billion in assets under management before production activity plummeted nationwide.
In January, the company defaulted on its $1.1-billion mortgage on Radford Studio Center, the historic lot where “Seinfeld” and “Gunsmoke” were filmed and which gave Studio City its name.
Earlier this year, Hackman Capital Partners defaulted on its $1.1-billion mortgage on Radford Studio Center, the historic lot where “Seinfeld” and “Gunsmoke” were filmed.
(Gary Coronado/Los Angeles Times)
Three months later, lender Deutsche Bank filed a foreclosure complaint on the also-historic Kaufman Astoria Studios in Queens, N.Y., home to “Sesame Street” and “Succession.”
Gregg Bilson sold ISS Props, the Sunland-based company his father founded in 1977, to Manhattan Beach Studios, part of Hackman Capital Partners, five years ago, staying on as CEO to help run and expand the company.
After 40 years in the business, he retired last August with a little more than a year and a half left on his contract.
Bilson now sees himself as a Hollywood relic.
“Many of my contemporaries and I have had conversations where we say we saw the best of the film and TV industry when it was an art form,” Bilson said. “It will never be the same.”
For Sarah Gorden, Mother’s Day is special because it’s not just a celebration of motherhood. For her, it’s also a celebration of perseverance, grit and survival.
Especially survival.
Gorden became pregnant during her junior year of college and for most of the next 12 years, she tried to balance her life as a professional soccer player with her responsibilities as a single mother. It wasn’t easy.
“I honestly look back and I have no idea how we got through that,” said Gorden, who made $8,000 as an NWSL rookie with the Chicago Red Stars in 2016, less than the city’s minimum wage. “We’re making no money. We were definitely using government assistance and government aid. And then the help of family and friends.
“I’m impressed and proud of the part of me that got through that. But it was no way to live.”
As the memories come flooding back, so do the tears.
Angel City midfielder Ariadina Alves Borges walks off the pitch with her son, Luca, at BMO Stadium on May 2.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
“It’s so difficult to explain,” said Gorden, now 33 and the captain at Angel City, as she dabbed at the tears with a tissue. “Not having enough money, not having enough time, wondering if I’m being selfish, wondering if I’m making the right decision. Ultimately it came down to: I didn’t feel like I had another [choice].”
A decade later, the NWSL minimum wage is $50,500 and the league’s collective bargaining agreement guarantees mothers job protection, full salary and benefits for the duration of a pregnancy-related absence, stipends for child care and subsidized arrangements for women traveling with children up to age 14.
Angel City, founded by three mothers, has gone beyond what the league has mandated by supporting mothers with perks that include a well-stocked nursery at the team’s training facility on the campus of Cal Lutheran University.
“From the beginning, we always strive to support the whole player. Physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically,” said Julie Uhrman, one of Angel City’s founders and now a principal adviser to the team. “And then to support them if they came in as parents or became parents. That’s not just players. Staff too.”
Uhrman, who raised two children while building a successful career as a media and entertainment executive, speaks from experience.
“They can do both and they can excel at both,” she said of her players. “And we’re going to provide the support and the environment for them to do that.”
On its active roster of 25 players, Angel City has four mothers — the most in the NWSL. The work that went into the infrastructure now in place for them originated with Sarah Smith, the team’s former director of medical and performance.
Smith, who left the club in January and now advises elite athletes — primarily skiers — in Utah, said the support she got from Uhrman and others during her own pregnancy two and a half years ago inspired and informed her work with Angel City.
“Having the leadership of the club and the female leaders in the club, and then wanting to be able to support all of the players through their different journeys, through motherhood, I was really glad to be part of that,” she said. “But it really started with the fact that I had just gone through it, and I was able to share those experiences.”
Angel City forward Sydney Leroux’s 9-year-old son, Cassius, waits for his mom to leave a team huddle at BMO Stadium on May 2.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
The first player she guided through that journey was Scottish forward Claire Emslie, who gave birth to a son in December.
“I’ll be honest. Having seen how much she wanted to do for moms in the game made me excited to become a mom,” Emslie said. “We weren’t even thinking about having a kid. But knowing what she wanted to do if there was a pregnant player made me want to have a kid because I knew that this is the best place I could possibly be.”
Emslie, 32, was cleared to suit up for Angel City’s game with San Diego on Saturday — the day before Mother’s Day — after missing the past 12 months on maternity leave. But she continued to train until just before giving birth and that, combined with the year off from the weekly pounding of professional soccer and the physiological changes her body went through during pregnancy, have made her better, she says.
“I feel better. I’m different,” she said. “I got a lot stronger and that’s something you can’t build while you’re in competition. My speed is back. I think I’m actually faster. And there’s also sort of an effect where you’ve got more red blood cells in your system now. So they say your cardio is actually better.”
The prime years for a women’s soccer player — between the ages of 25 and 29 — overlap with their prime reproductive years. Until recently, however, women had to make a choice between a family and a career. Now many are choosing to do both.
Sophia Wilson, a former NWSL scoring champion and MVP, and Mallory Swanson, her teammate on the U.S. Women’s National Team, both missed play in 2025 to give birth. They are among the 28 mothers in the league, and more are coming with the most recent NWSL availability report showing six teams missing players going on maternity leave.
Angel City player Claire Emslie, who is pregnant, tours a nursery the team built for players.
(Courtesy of Angel City FC)
Emslie’s own experiences tell her those numbers will continue to grow.
“I got to a point where I need[ed] to start thinking about life after football. And if I want to have a family, because of the biological clock, I need to start trying soon,” Emslie said. “It’s now kind of a normal thing to have a baby and come back.”
“Now I wish I’d done it younger,” she added. “Having a baby and continuing to play, they’re on the journey with you. So to have, say, five, six years professional football with a family, that’s amazing.”
Smith believes the willingness of star players such as Wilson and Swanson — and before them, Alex Morgan and Manchester United’s Hannah Blundell — has brought important focus to the issue of motherhood in soccer.
“That is where the game is going. I think you probably can see it across the league, the number of mothers,” Smith said. “And that’s a variety of circumstances. It may be mothers whose partners have carried children. It may be also players that are thinking about having children later and want to freeze their eggs. What I wanted to make sure is that we, we supported all of those different circumstances.”
That included designing and stocking the nursery at the training facility Angel City inherited from the NFL’s Rams in the fall of 2024.
“We put stuff in there for Caiden, for Sarah’s son, because it wasn’t just for Claire,” Smith said. “We wanted to make sure that all of the players and their partners felt good and comfortable. You just want to take a little bit of stress off of the players.”
Angel City captain Sarah Gorden with her oldest son, Caiden, during a photo shoot.
(Courtesy of Angel City FC)
When the club inherited the nine-acre practice facility in 2024 from the Rams, Angel City designated the largest of the offices for the nursery. The office belonged to head coach Sean McVay, and now it features walls painted pink and light blue and a crib, a changing table and a menagerie of stuffed animals.
“We want players to come to Angel City because we are the absolute best place for you to grow as an athlete, as a human,” Uhrman said. “And, you know, thinking about the fact that they might want to become mothers at some time or they’re coming in as mothers is really important.”
Gorden remembers a time not so long ago when that wasn’t the case. Early in her career in Chicago, she said she had to bring her son to a team meeting and was punished by being benched. Another time she couldn’t find child care on the day of a game — a Mother’s Day game.
“I just remember bawling all morning and just feeling so stressed,” she said.
Gorden has a fiance who is helping with parenting and her son Caiden, now in middle school, has grown into a sweet, empathetic boy.
“So yeah,” Gorden said, smiling through the tears, “a lot of progress. The league gets it now.”
