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July 27 (UPI) — The U.S. Consulate in Toronto was shot at early Monday, according to authorities, marking the second time the facility been targeted by gunfire this year.

Deputy Chief Frank Barredo of the Toronto Police Service told reporters in a press conference that a police security detail at the consulate in downtown Toronto heard what sounded like a gunshot in the vicinity at 4:46 a.m. EDT.

The officer noticed a white late-model Honda Accord with no license plates speed away from the building and radioed the information. Additional officers noticed the suspect vehicle nearby and engaged it in a high-speed chase onto the Don Valley Parkway, heading northbound.

Barredo said the suspect vehicle was driving at speeds in excess of 87 miles per hour, prompting officers to end the chase, in accordance with police procedures because of the danger posed to the public, near the Don Mills Road and the DVP.

At the scene, police recovered a single shell casing, he said. The building’s facade also suffered damage, he added.

While no motive is known, Barredo said police suspect the shooting was premeditated.

“I don’t think it’s just a fluke that there was no license plate on the vehicle,” he said. He also described the shooting as “brazen” and “reckless” given that a police cruiser was parked outside.

Two security officers were inside the heavily fortified building at the time of the shooting, though Barredo said they would not necessarily have noticed the shot.

Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow mirrored Barredo’s description of the shooting as a “brazen attack” and vowed to work with authorities to get “the illegal American guns off our street” and to bring those responsible to justice.

“I want to say to the person or persons responsible. We will get you. We have apprehended the previous shooters, all three of them, and we will bring you to justice. You will be held accountable,” she said.

UPI has contacted the consulate for comment.

The shooting comes amid fraying relations between Canada and the United States. President Donald Trump‘s combative rhetoric and actions, including threatening to annex Canada and imposing stiff tariffs on it, have angered many across the Great White North and have compelled Ottawa to begin distancing itself economically and militarily from Washington.

In March, multiple shots were fired at the U.S. Consulate in downtown Toronto.

Last month, Toronto police arrested three people in connection with the March shooting. Constable Marc Pinizzotto was killed in a related police raid.

Police said the shooting was one of at least 27 they believe were carried out by criminals for hire. Authorities have not made public who hired them.

The second shooting at the consulate also occurred as two Jewish-owned bakeries in the city were the targets of vandalism, at least one of which was shot at.

Asked if the second shooting at the consulate was potentially another criminal-for-hire plot or connected to the bakery shootings, Barredo said it was too early to tell.

“We, obviously, would not rule that out as a possibility,” he said.

“We do know that is a phenomenon that has grown in the GTA area. Some criminals simply perform services for hire. They don’t have any personal interest in matter; they simply are hired to carry out a specific act of criminality.”

Minister of Public Safety Gary Anandasangaree said in an online statement he was “appalled by the brazen shooting” and has spoken with Chow, and offered his full support to the Toronto Police Service.

“Violence of any kind will never be tolerated in Canada,” he said.

Emma Roberts and Cody John have said “I do!”

After four years as an item, Roberts and John tied the knot during an intimate ceremony at John’s family estate in Sun Valley, Idaho, on Saturday.

Page Six published photos of the outdoor nuptials that showed Roberts’ 5-year-old son, Rhodes (whom she shares with ex Garrett Hedlund), walking his mom down the flower-lined aisle, the bridal party dressed in coordinating black ensembles, Roberts throwing her head back in laughter while John appears to be reciting his vows and Roberts’ Oscar-winning aunt, Julia Roberts, taking her seat.

Notably not in attendance was the “American Horror Story” actor’s father, Eric Roberts. He addressed skipping the party, telling Page Six, “I love my daughter, always have, always will.”

“It is perfectly wonderful for her to celebrate however she wants, with whomever she wants.”

Among the famous friends who gathered for Roberts’ big day were “American Horror Story” co-stars Sarah Paulson and Billie Lourd, Demi Moore, Kristen Stewart and wife Dylan Meyer, “Pretty Little Liars” star Ashley Benson and her husband, Brandon Davis.

Roberts and John — an actor who has appeared in television shows including “In the Dark,” “Wu-Tang: An American Saga” and “The Rookie” — have been together since the summer of 2022. John popped the question two years later, in 2024. Roberts announced the news via Instagram with a photo of the two beaming near a river and a caption that read, “putting this here before my mom tells everyone.”

Roberts shared a glimpse into the planning of her wedding look with Vogue, who captured designer Monique Lhuillier discussing the concept of the dress. “Working with Monique has been an absolute dream,” she told Vogue. “I wanted it to feel very vintage-inspired. I’m obsessed with antique books and and treasure hunting, and I love collecting old ephemera.

“So I really wanted that to like shine through in the dress. So for me, it wasn’t so much about the cut; it was like about what the color was going to be. So Monique actually designed a custom color, and it’s this antique kind of tea-stained color that is so beautiful. Because I realized that, on my wedding day, I kind of wanted to look like a ghost, a little like [an] antique ghost doll.”

Lhuillier posted some clips from the Vogue fitting on social media and wrote that designing Roberts’ gown was about capturing a feeling of timeless romance through a modern lens. “Every detail, from the custom Vintage Rose hue to the hand-draped silk chiffon, delicate lacework and sculpted corsetry, was created to reflect her effortless spirit while celebrating the artistry of couture.”

This is the first marriage for the “Holidate” star. Roberts split from “Tron” and “Country Strong” actor Hedlund in 2022 after an on-again, off-again three-year relationship. She was also famously linked to “American Horror Story” actor Evan Peters. The pair had a tumultuous seven-year relationship that spanned 2012 to 2019.

BuzzFeed is cutting roughly 35% of its workforce in its first major restructuring since media mogul Byron Allen bought a majority stake in the firm two months ago.

The layoffs, outlined in a Securities and Exchange Commission filing on Monday, will affect about 180 staff and contract positions across BuzzFeed and its sister brands HuffPost and Tasty.

“We’ve been actively managing costs for some time, working through scenarios to save as many jobs as possible,” BuzzFeed’s leadership team said in the memo. “Unfortunately, the elimination of certain roles is still required.”

The company, which maintains a Hollywood office, said the changes are necessary to “put our business on a path to profitable and sustainable growth.”

This restructuring comes after the millennial-focused media company, best known for quirky video content and online quizzes, sold a majority stake to Allen in May in exchange for $20 million in cash and a $100 million promissory note. Allen also became chairman and chief executive of the company.

Through the restructuring, BuzzFeed’s leaders said, the company will aim to grow its audience and bolster its positon in free streaming content.

The BuzzFeed purchase is the latest in a series of business moves Allen has made in recent years to build his entertainment empire. The former stand-up comedian recently purchased a portion of CBS’s late-night block earlier this year, taking over the time slot for the 2026-2027 season. The slot once belonged to “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert,” which was canceled last year and aired its final episode in May.

Allen’s company holds a slate of network-affiliate stations and owns the Weather Channel network. The company bought a 10.7% stake in cable channel Starz for $25 million in March.

Allen could not be reached for a comment on the new layoffs at BuzzFeed.

In its own statement, BuzzFeed said “We are extremely fortunate that Byron has enormous confidence in our management team and moved very quickly to reposition this company and unlock its value.”

BuzzFeed was founded in 2006. The website became known as a pop culture hub, where readers could indulge in the latest celebrity gossip or discover a unique cooking recipe. But over the years, the company has declined and faced mounting financial struggles. 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 roughly 69% to $7.5 million. The company is expected to release its second-quarter results Aug. 4.

Times Staff Writers Meg James and Stacy Perman contributed to this report.

Police have previously suggested a link between anti-Jewish attacks in the city and shootings at the US consulate.

At least one shot has been fired outside the US Consulate General in Toronto, in the second such incident in just four months.

Nobody was injured in the attack, police said on Monday, adding that a shell casing was found and the building’s facade had been damaged.

A white sedan was seen fleeing the scene at about 5am local time (09:00 GMT), which police said they briefly pursued before giving up the chase over safety concerns due to its ultra-high speed.

No suspects have been arrested, and the investigation is ongoing.

A US Department of State spokesperson said Washington was working closely with Canadian authorities following the incident.

Toronto police declined to speculate on a possible motive for this weekend’s shooting and whether it was linked to previous incidents.

Ontario Premier Doug Ford said he expected “all those responsible to be found, prosecuted and punished to the fullest extent of the law”.

This is the second time in four months that shots have been fired at the US Consulate in Toronto.

On March 10, several shots were fired at the same building, and one police officer was later killed in an operation to arrest those responsible.

Toronto police claimed in June that young people in the Toronto area were being recruited via encrypted messaging apps to shoot at various targets and record the shootings for payment.

The targets the police mentioned included synagogues, Jewish schools, a waste management company, and the US Consulate.

The police did not provide evidence, only mentioning that investigations were ongoing in cooperation with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the US FBI.

Betye Saar, a Los Angeles artist who transformed collections of bigoted bric-à-brac — Sambo dolls, ceramic mammies and crude renderings of pickaninnies — into potent works of assemblage that mined the searing history of race in the United States, and whose works influenced generations of artists, has died. She was 99.

Saar died in her sleep — just a few days short of her 100th birthday — in Los Angeles, her longtime gallerist Julie Roberts at Robert Projects said. Saar’s death was confirmed by her publicist Hannah Gottlieb-Graham.

“Betye Saar was one of the greatest artists of our time, and it has been an immense honor to work with her for nearly 20 years,” Roberts said. “Her singular vision transformed the course of contemporary art, and her legacy will continue to inspire generations of artists, scholars, and audiences around the world.”

A diminutive woman with a low-key manner that belied a steely resolve, Saar was known for combing garage sales, flea markets and junk piles for objects that she employed in collages and assemblages large and small. These explored difficult aspects of American history — including slavery and Jim Crow — but also touched on more personal themes of family, memory, magic and spirituality.

“My work has to do with recycling,” she told a documentary crew in the 1970s. “Each item I collect has a certain energy from its previous function that carries over into its new use.”

Artist Betye Saar in her Laurel Canyon home in 2016.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

In a 1984 profile, Times art writer Suzanne Muchnic described Saar as an artist who used found objects in a way that “draws on the power of mystery, the hurt of discrimination and the authenticity of individual vision.”

As Saar’s 100th birthday approached, her work and its groundbreaking importance were celebrated afresh in a slew of articles, including two recent profiles in The Times. As she approached the momentous milestone, Saar appeared more interested in creating new art than in dissecting her legacy. “That’s what art is,” she told The Times in an interview in late June. “Making something where there was nothing.”

Saar first rose to prominence in the 1970s, after crafting a small assemblage — roughly the size of a shoebox — that featured at its center a stereotypical Black mammy figurine bearing a rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other. The piece was first shown at the Rainbow Sign, a community center in Berkeley that was located near the headquarters of the Black Panthers.

The artist had begun her professional life as a designer of greeting cards and home accessories. But 1972’s “The Liberation of Aunt Jemima,” as the assemblage was called, catapulted her into the center of the Black Arts Movement and connected her with a broader tradition of assemblage in California and the art world at large. Three years after its creation, she had a solo exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York. Decades later, activist Angela Davis credited “The Liberation of Aunt Jemima” with spurring the Black women’s movement.

“It’s like they abolished slavery, but they kept Black people in the kitchen as mammy jars,” Saar said in a 2015 interview. “I had this Aunt Jemima, and I wanted to put a rifle and a grenade under her skirts. I wanted to empower her. I wanted to make her a warrior. I wanted people to know that Black people wouldn’t be enslaved by that.”

In June 2020, in the wake of the uprisings following the murder of George Floyd, Quaker Oats announced that it would retire the Aunt Jemima brand. Saar took to Instagram with an image of her famous work and a message: “She’s liberated! Finally at long last! And it’s about time!”

“Liberation” now resides in the collection of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, not far from where it was first shown.

Betye Saar was born Betye Irene Brown in L.A. on July 30, 1926, the eldest of Jefferson Maze Brown and Beatrice Lillian Parson‘s three children. Her father, with whom she was close, died when Saar was about 5. And shortly thereafter, Parson relocated the family to Pasadena to live with her maternal aunt, Hattie Parson Keys. (Years later, Saar created a series of works in honor of Keys, employing objects that her aunt had left behind — something she would do for other family members as well.)

Saar’s parents weren’t artists, but art was in the air. When she was a child, her mother encouraged her to sew and make crafts. And, in the summers, she spent time at the home of her paternal grandparents in Watts, where she saw Simon Rodia building the Watts Towers and was struck by his use of materials.

“The one I find the most amusing is the corn cob,” she told the podcast “The Modern Art Notes” in 2016. “He had a piece of space with wet cement so he just put the corn cob in there. And I just love the kind of freedom to make the piece. Anything can go in there.”

After graduating from high school, Saar spent two years at Pasadena City College before transferring to UCLA in 1947. She majored in design, figuring that she would become an interior decorator — and, for a time, she did indeed work in that field, teaming up with Curtis Tann to form a cleverly named studio called Brown and Tann. Operating out of Tann’s home, the company produced an array of decorative and functional objects, including bowls, ashtrays and jewelry.

To market their goods, they turned to an informal network of African American artists, staging pop-up exhibitions in people’s homes and in other impromptu locations. In 1951, the pair was featured in Ebony magazine.

It was through that circle that she met a ceramicist of German American descent by the name of Richard Saar. In 1952, they married. The following year, their daughter Lezley was born. Two other daughters followed: Alison in 1956 and Tracye in 1961. (Lezley and Alison are now respected artists in their own right. And, in fact, on more than one occasion, all three women have shown their work together, most recently at the Museum of Art & History in Lancaster in 2018.) In 2024, the Equal Justice Initiative Legacy Gallery installed Saar’s “Seeking Secrets of Destiny” alongside her daughter Alison’s sculpture “The Beckoning.”

Betye Saar, flanked by her daughters, stands before a painted brick wall.

(Carolina A. Miranda / Los Angeles Times)

In 1962, the Saar family moved to a rambling hillside home in Laurel Canyon, then a very rustic part of L.A. It put them in a hotbed of hippiedom right as the 1960s got rolling.

“Down the road was Frank Zappa,” Saar recalled in one interview. “There weren’t that many houses. We had the long skirts and long hair, and it was very casual. You’d go to a love-in or a concert.”

“We were as hippie-ish as hippie could be, while still being responsible.”

By the late ‘60s, she and Saar had divorced. But she remained in Laurel Canyon, where she would live and work until the end of her life.

Saar came to art almost by accident. In the late 1950s, she enrolled at Cal State Long Beach to pursue a master’s degree so that she could teach. But a stroll through campus led her past the university’s printing department.

“I walked past the print workshop and I was like, ‘Heyyy!’ ” she later recalled.

The master’s degree never happened. Instead, she poured herself into printing.

“I loved making prints,” she recalled. “The move into fine art, it was liberating. It gave me freedom to experiment.”

A pair of other, longer journeys, also proved formative.

There was a trip to Chicago’s Field Museum, where she immersed herself in the institution’s extensive collection of African art, followed by a trip to Haiti in the early 1970s. Saar was drawn to the Caribbean nation because of her interest in voodoo and magic — and the power that these could confer on inanimate objects.

“In the early 1960s I began going to coffee houses and they’d have books on the occult,” she told the New York Times in 1978. “I was attracted to signs and diagrams of alchemy and palmistry, and I began to use them in my prints. I also haunted second-hand and junk stores, and I started to frame my prints in old window frames.”

But it was a visit to an exhibition of the work of Joseph Cornell at the Pasadena Art Museum (now the Norton Simon Musuem) that inspired her to take a three-dimensional turn in her work. Saar was moved by the surreal qualities of the New York artist’s intimately scaled assemblages, which were often presented in small boxes.

“I immediately started collecting stuff after I saw that show,” she told the L.A. Times in 2016. “I started going to yard sales and estate sales.”

During the ‘60s and ‘70s, she took on a series of part-time jobs to provide for her children, designing costumes at a cultural center and teaching at area art schools. These provided her with necessary income, but also allowed her enough time to make work — which she often did at the kitchen table.

Saar’s creations from that era are on display through Aug. 22 at Roberts Projects. Titled, “Let’s Get It On: The Wearable Art of Betye Saar,” the show covers the years Saar spent in the costume department for the Inner City Cultural Center’s theatrical productions.

“Art comes from the heart and the head,” she once said. “You don’t need to have a separate space in which to make it.”

Plus, art gave Saar a crucial political voice at a time of the civil rights and Black power movements. “If you are a mom with three kids, you can’t go to a march,” she once stated, “but you can make work that deals with your anger.”

“The Weight of Betrayal,” 2015, by Betye Saar.

(Brian Forrest / Roberts Projects)

In her assemblages, she incorporated symbols that channeled dark episodes of U.S. history and African American struggle: the schematics of slave ships, the hackneyed images of vintage kitsch and the cruel sobriquets used by white supremacists to describe Black children.

At first she was apprehensive about using this type of imagery in her work. “Blacks were ashamed of those derogatory images,” she told the New York Times. “I like to think I recycled those images from negative to positive.”

But there was power in those images — and Saar knew just how to harness it.

“Saar’s assemblage doesn’t just describe history,” wrote former Times art critic Christopher Knight of her work in 2019, “it embodies a visceral connection to it.”

She would go on to deploy these tropes in myriad ways throughout her career — in particular the stereotypical figure of the Black mammy.

This included one particularly potent work: a glass bottle featuring the visage of a smiling mammy, which she transformed into a Molotov cocktail. The piece, which for decades had been in a private collection, reappeared in the traveling exhibition “We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women, 1965-85,” which went on view at the California African American Museum (CAAM) in 2017.

“Historically, the mammy was the ultimate image of Black female servitude in the American psyche,” wrote historian Steven Nelson in the catalog that accompanied a 2017 exhibition of Saar’s work at the Craft Contemporary (then known as the Craft & Folk Art Museum). “She was kind and giving. She cooked and cleaned and did the laundry. She took care of the children. She was harmless.”

By arming her mammies with revolvers, rifles and bullets, Saar turned a symbol of servility into one of militancy and power.

“Liberation of Aunt Jemima: Cocktail,” 1973, shown at the exhibition “We Wanted a Revolution” at CAAM in 2017.

(Jonathan Dorado, Brooklyn Museum / Betye Saar, Roberts Projects)

Her work also frequently touched on the personal: family, dreams, magic and the body (particularly the Black female body). In the process, she influenced a younger generation of artists, key figures such as Houston Conwill, Senga Nengudi and David Hammons.

“You can really see the impact she had on them,” said Kellie Jones, a scholar and independent curator who organized “Now Dig This!: Art and Black Los Angeles 1960-1980” at the Hammer Museum in 2011. “She had this multimedia practice. It was about Africa, but it was about the world. She has works with Mexican milagros, she has titles in Spanish, she at certain points has Asian influence and Haitian influence. She was really looking at the globe. She was a person in the world, and she really modeled that for people like Hammons and Conwill and Nengudi.”

Saar’s work resides in the permanent collections of more than 80 international museums, and in recent years, she was the subject of solo shows at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Prada Foundation in Milan and the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art in Arizona (which hosted a retrospective).

In L.A., she had regular exhibitions at her Culver City gallery Roberts Projects, as well as one-woman shows at CAAM and the Craft Contemporary. In 2019, a small but potent show at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art explored the ways in which her drawing process factored into her assemblage work. But a full retrospective at one of her hometown’s major museums eluded her.

Saar told The Times that she didn’t let it bother her: “I’ve always done what I did and never felt I was competing with what was going on.”

An installation view of “Mojotech,” 1987, by Betye Saar at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art.

(Tim Lanterman / Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art and Roberts Projects)

If anything, she competed only with herself.

Well into her 90s, she continued to get up every day to craft assemblages out of the objects she had amassed in her studio. At 96, she scoured the Huntington Library gardens for a commissioned installation she called a “full-circle” project.

“I used to come to the Huntington with my mother when I was a child. She loved to garden, especially African violets, and she passed that love of plants and nature on to me,” Saar told the New York Times Style Magazine in 2024.

That love is palpable in “Drifting Toward Twilight” and its accompanying documentary, which sees Saar fawning over the orange tint of sloughed bark and the mystical qualities of garden scraps.

“Even in death those things can be really beautiful,” Saar said in the short documentary.

After working with a 17-foot canoe as a centerpiece for the Huntington exhibition, Saar told Curate LA that she felt compelled to return to small-scale pieces. The result was her 2024 Roberts Projects exhibit, “Betye Saar: New Work,” an objet trouvé medley in bronze and gold hues.

“At first, the new works were more nostalgic, with vintage photos and female ephemera, like gloves and such,” Saar said. “Then I brought in the tall ship bookends and African masks, and the works moved in a more ancestral and political direction.”

Even her grandson’s discarded computer parts made a cameo, a testament to Saar’s uncanny ability to mine inspiration from the most mundane objects.

“The worst problem for an artist is having nothing to say,” she once said in an interview. “I just have so many ideas. … Look at things that are important to you, what’s happening in your life. If you have that, you never run out of ideas.”

With her centennial on the horizon, Saar in 2025 formed the Betye Saar Legacy Group, a committee of her trusted curators and collaborators charged with preserving her vast archive and keeping her name fresh in the minds of new generations of artists.

A Saar biography penned by Zoé Whitley, who co-curated “Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power,” is expected in 2027.

Saar is survived by her daughters Lezley, Alison (both artists) and Tracye (a writer), and her grandchildren Kyle Leeser, Maddy Inez, Sola Saar, Gen Saar Agustsson, Spencer Saar Cavanaugh, Megan Cavanaugh

Times staff writers Malia Mendez and Jessica Gelt contributed to this report.

The Indianapolis Colts took a flyer on an impressive athlete from Kenya 13 years ago, but a story that began with an inspirational backdrop has taken an increasingly familiar turn: Daniel Adongo was deported from the United States last month, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement confirmed.

According to ICE, Adongo, 37, overstayed his visa after his brief NFL career ended in 2015 and he remained in Indiana. The former linebacker and African rugby star was arrested several times over the past nine years for crimes including felony intimidation, battery and disorderly conduct. He also showed signs of mental illness, according to court records.

“This dangerous individual was clearly a threat to the community, which is now safer since he’s been removed,” ICE Chicago Assistant Field Office Director Douglas Thompson said in a statement. “Those who violate immigration law are held equally accountable, including former professional athletes.”

Adongo was released by the Colts after playing in two games in 2013 and three in 2015, mostly on special teams. The team cut ties with him after police were called to a home in Fishers, Ind., to check on a woman who lived with Adongo.

According to a police report, the woman’s friend contacted law enforcement. Adongo was not at the residence at the time, and the woman declined medical assistance. The Hamilton County prosecutor’s office reviewed the case and did not charge Adongo.

However, the 6-foot-5, 260-pound Adongo began exhibiting increasingly erratic behavior. In 2017, an Indiana judge found him mentally incompetent to stand trial in a criminal case in which he was charged with intimidation and criminal mischief and ordered him committed to a state psychiatric hospital for evaluation and observation, according to the Indianapolis Star.

The only crime Adongo has been convicted of is a criminal mischief misdemeanor in 2020 for which he was sentenced to 364 days in jail, according to ICE. Other charges for intimidation, battery and disorderly conduct were dismissed.

Judges twice found Adongo incompetent to stand trial, according to court filings, including one case in which an expert witness testified that Adongo was acutely psychotic and possibly suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy — brain trauma — from playing football and rugby.

Members of Adongo’s family described in court filings a dramatic personality change in him after his playing career ended and expressed concern that he struggled to access mental health treatment.

ICE held Adongo without bond for several months under the Laken Riley Act, a federal law signed Jan. 29, 2025, that requires the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to detain undocumented immigrants without bond when arrested for specific crimes. He was deported one month ago.

Adongo was the first of two Kenyans to play in the NFL. The second was guard Rees Odhiambo, who played in 16 games from 2016 to 2018 for the Seattle Seahawks and Arizona Cardinals.

YOU will soon be able to stay in luxury cabins right by a 17th century castle.

Crossbasket Castle, around 10 miles from Glasgow, is already home to a luxury castle – but new plans have revealed 12 additional cabins.

The cabins will be right on the banks of the River Calder, which is a short walk from the castle itself.

Each cabin can host up to four people, with a double bed and a sofa bed.

The cabins also have bathrooms found on the enclosed balconies, with freestanding copper bathtubs.

For breakfast, guests need to head to Foveran’s atrium, where they can grab a range of breakfast items including a breakfast grill, charcuterie and pastries.

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When it comes to grabbing something in the evening, guests can head to the hotel’s restaurant, Trocadero’s.

The cabins will welcome guests from the beginning of October, with a one-night stay including breakfast costing from £295.

In addition to the lodges, the hotel will also get a new spa – Four Angels Spa.

Due to open in the autumn, the spa will have four treatment rooms, ‘immersive experience showers’, a sauna, a steam room and heated loungers.

Products used in the spa will also be sourced locally, from the Isle of Harris.

Crossbasket Castle dates back to the 15th century and at one point was even owned by Charles Macintosh, the inventor of the raincoat.

It was then purchased by Alison and Steve Timoney in 2011, who spent £10million on restoring the castle for it to reopen in 2016 as a five-star hotel.

Alison Timoney, owner of Crossbasket Castle, said: “From the outset, our vision has been to create an experience that goes beyond traditional luxury hospitality.

“The introduction of the Four Angels Spa and Crossbasket Cabins further enhances our vision for the overall estate, offering guests a place to fully immerse themselves in the beauty of our surroundings whilst enjoying a moment of calmness and relaxation.”

Last things first: Eve Babitz is a major minor L.A. writer who died five years ago at age 78. She spent nearly a quarter-century as a recluse, having suffered in 1997 a shocking and disfiguring accident while striking a match to light her Tiparillo. Her thin Indian skirt caught fire searing her panty hose into her flesh, leaving her with third-degree burns over more than half her body. She never published again, though many championed her gifts, including me. At the time of her misfortune, I was book editor of the Los Angeles Times. I had long admired her, especially the rollicking and indispensable “Slow Days, Fast Company,” first published in 1977, a charming and insightful series of stories bursting with pluck and sass. I recommended to John Carroll, the then-editor of the paper, that he make her a columnist and urged Babitz to write him directly. She did, and that letter from October 2000 is the last included in “Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were),” a book of letters expertly edited and chosen by Lili Anolik. Babitz tells Carroll that “what the paper needs is some writers that cause such an uproar, people will have to read it in order to stay abreast of the edge.” Babitz knew what she was talking about. She’d been living on that edge since she was a teenager at Hollywood High in the late 1950s.

The posthumous resurrection of Babitz’s writings is most welcome. Yet there is a risk of overpraising her merits. She was an unabashed booster of the glossy L.A. that became synonymous with a rising creative elite whose élan and narcissism she found irresistible.

Lili Anolik makes the case in her perfervid introduction: “The letters are everything you could want” and often “profound” and “frequently brilliant, invariably amusing.” She says they deserve to be put on the short shelf next to Virginia Woolf’s imperishable “A Room of One’s Own” for they are “every bit as candid, every bit as lucid, every bit as brutal, every bit as delicate as Virginia Woolf’s celebrated manifesto.”

If only.

“Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were)” by Eve Babitz

(New York Review Books)

Regrettably, Anolik, who is almost singlehandedly responsible for Babitz’s literary exhumation, has so fallen in love with her subject as to almost blind her to Babitz’s defects, both with respect to her writing and to the life. With two previous books — “Hollywood’s Eve” (2019) and “Didion and Babitz” (2024) — prompted by Anolik’s riveting March 2014 Vanity Fair profile, Anolik has become Babitz’s greatest champion. Now with “Too L.A.,” a title taken from Babitz’s own over-oxygenated writing, she has gathered and edited a trove of letters. They brilliantly reveal Babitz’s eye for the deep shallow as well as explore the porous boundary between the largely self-inflicted injuries of her private life and the glittering sheen of her public persona. Babitz herself, on the strength of these 197 letters, only 30 of which she ever mailed, understood in a way Anolik doesn’t the limitations of her talents, even as she strives to slip the shackles of a mansplaining culture which at almost every turn tried to blunt her ambitions, both artistic and writerly, even as her editors and admirers sought (often with her ardent encouragement) to slip between her sheets.

Eve Babitz was born in 1943 to Hollywood neo-royalty. Her Brooklyn-born father, Sol, was first violinist for both the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony and then the 20th Century Fox Studio Orchestra. Sol would ultimately marry Lily Mae Laviolette, a beautiful Cajun Catholic shiksa willing to convert to Judaism. Eve’s godfather was Sol’s good friend Igor Stravinsky. When puberty burst upon her at age 14, Babitz’s blossoming made her a prime candidate for induction by the fast-track girls at Hollywood High who called themselves the Thunderbird Girls and cruised the Sunset Strip in their cool cars, looking for the main chance.

From left, Sol Babitz, Mae Babitz, Mirandi Babitz and author Eve Babitz gather at a launch party for her book “Slow Days, Fast Company” in 1977.

(Photograph by Paul Ruscha; courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)

At 20, Babitz posed nude playing chess with the fully clothed Marcel Duchamp to promote Duchamp’s retrospective exhibition at the Pasadena Art Museum. At the time, Babitz was having an affair with the museum’s 32-year-old married director, Walter Hopps, which perhaps explains Babitz’s reluctance to have her face photographed so as not to give the game away to Mrs. Hopps, who attended the opening. A month later, Babitz confides in an (unsent) letter: “Everything’s so fabulous for me now I can’t believe it. There’s nothing like two boyfriends to do it for you every time. There are such fabulous boys around and they take you out on dates and to movies and I feel just like a teenager. (I’m recapturing my lost youth.) I get to get dressed up and I flirt outrageously and put people on and I do things like look soulfully out the window and man it’s just too hoozie for words. … If only all of this could last forever — not that it will, but I can.”

She spent the rest of her life torn between the excitements of everyday life — cruising the hangouts du jour (Barney’s Beanery in the early 1960s where she met many of L.A.’s up-and-coming artists — Ed Kienholz, Billy Al Bengston, Laddie Dill, Peter Alexander, and the Ruscha brothers, Ed and Paul, both of whom she’d bed, Paul becoming an on-again, off-again boyfriend whose bisexuality made for a sometimes tenuous connection; and after seducing Jim Morrison before he became famous and later the Troubadour in the late 1960s which was a happy hunting ground — Steve Martin, Glenn Frey, Don Henley, J.D. Souther, Country Joe Mcdonald, Jackson Browne, to name only a few, and then Ports restaurant where she anchored a corner table) — and the seductions of drugs — uppers, acid (which she seemed to ingest with an alarming frequency), pot, of course, and then by the mid-1970s, tragically, an Everest of cocaine. She had entered what she aptly called the era of “squalid overboogie.”

Eve Babitz and her frequent companion Paul Ruscha celebrate the 1977 release of Babitz’s seminal “Slow Days, Fast Company.”

(Photograph courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)

The name-dropping is relentless and if, like me, you have an insatiable appetite for hoovering them up, this volume will not disappoint. Still, there are many pages of vapid jottings — “I cleaned the house, did the laundry, and vowed to quit smoking” — that suggest why Babitz was a failure as a novelist (see her dud “Sex and Rage”) and a superb writer of short stories and essays that stylishly plumbed the depths of her own sensibility precisely in the degree to which she was uninterested in other people.

Nearly 30 years after she stripped to please her married lover and startle the unsuspecting Duchamp, the father of Dada, and eight years after she joined AA in 1982 — the year her beloved father died of Huntington’s disease at age 70 which ultimately would also kill her — and gave up drugs and alcohol and (almost entirely) writing as well, which had always been seen by her as enabled by dope of one kind or another, she boasted that, looking back, “Everybody wanted to be me — they looked at me with yearning faces, and said, ‘Boy, you sure had fun.’ ” She was not entirely wrong. She had struck many admirers both then and now, as the quintessential California girl, a daughter of Dionysus, whose devotion to pleasure was free of misgiving or regret. She detested the East Coast avatars of apocalypse, like Nathanael West, who saw only doom and gloom in sunny L.A. Babitz, by contrast, saw things sunny side up. If Joan Didion was unsettled and made anxious by the hot Santa Anas that regularly kicked up, Babitz luxuriated in them, recalling how she and her sister would as young girls rush to embrace them, spinning madly round and round. In a 1977 unsent letter to Joseph Heller, who had championed her work when she had sent him an unsolicited fan letter after having read “Catch-22” when it was first published and she was barely 20, she declares proudly: “I’m a gossip storyteller who likes L.A. rather than hates it.” She refers to her “shallow nature,” writing that “I feel like an upstream salmon, determined to reach the shallow water, no matter how fast the river is running the other way.”

Eve Babitz, the ultimate Hollywood reveler, on Sunset Boulevard in 1980.

(Los Angeles Times)

On the evidence of these letters, she had two great loves: Ahmet Ertegun, a principal founder of Atlantic Records, and Tom Dowd, renown recording engineer and producer who worked for Ertegun. Of the two, Ertegun had the edge, if for no other reason than he came with buckets of dough, making possible assignations at his regular bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel with limo pickup and dropoff services, and the best champagne and other assorted stimulants. Ertegun was effortlessly elegant and erudite, and there was no one he didn’t know and who wouldn’t return his calls. He was married, age 45, 20 years older than Babitz, when they fell for each other in 1969. She began sleeping with him even as she agreed to profile him for Jann Wenner’s newly launched Rolling Stone. The writing didn’t go well. Wenner wanted a tougher piece than she was willing to write. Ultimately, she abandoned the assignment, claiming (not unreasonably) that she didn’t see how she could write objectively about a man she loved.

Babitz courted danger with heedless bravado and exemplary recklessness. She once had the moxie to rid herself of a would-be rapist: When told not to scream, she said with unimaginable sangfroid: “Why not?” The man bolted. It might be said of Babitz, as Oscar Wilde said of his life, that she spent her talent on her writing and reserved her genius for her life. Sculpting her natural gifts of wit and brazenness into a living artwork dazzled all who came within her orbit. Her lust for life was palpable. The letters are proof. She came at people without fear. She left them without apology. She was the boss of herself. She was the girl who seemed to have it all. The only thing she lacked was inexperience.

Wasserman, a former book editor of the Los Angeles Times, is publisher of Heyday Books, a nonprofit, independent publishing house founded in 1974 in Berkeley. He is the author of “Tell Me Something, Tell Me Anything, Even if It’s a Lie: A Memoir in Essays.”

Samantha Morton didn’t mean to start humming during that scene in “The Odyssey,” the scene everyone is talking about, when, as the sorceress Circe, she turns Odysseus’ men into pigs, literally molding them into their true savage selves.

It wasn’t in the script. It just happened. And when Morton was done, she looked over to director Christopher Nolan, waiting for him to say something like, “Maybe try it without the humming, Samantha.”

But Nolan didn’t say anything, so Morton did it again and the music that was swirling inside her head, which she remembers now as a symphony of glass harmoniums and theremin, kept coming out as Circe went about her witchy business, altering her gluttonous guests, who are busy slurping and gulping down her stew.

“These are sounds that can make you go mad, apparently,” Morton, 49, tells me, reclining on her bed at the Hotel Chelsea in New York. “So to transform the men, the magic came not just from my hands but from my sounds.”

Samantha Morton as Circe in “The Odyssey,” directed by Christopher Nolan.

(Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures)

Morton unabashedly believes in magic. How else, she asks, can you explain how a girl who was shuttled between children’s homes and a dozen foster families, only to be living on the streets of Nottingham, England, at the age of 14 with a criminal record, be here talking with me now, sipping green tea at the Chelsea?

“That’s got to be guardian angels and love — and not that I suddenly became good at acting and got a job,” says Morton, a veteran who’s been at it for 35 years, dazzling audiences and stealing scenes for the likes of Steven Spielberg, Jim Sheridan and, now, Nolan. “I’ve always believed that anything is possible and there’s no doubt in here,” and she pats her heart, “because I’ve always felt this immense love for me from another entity.”

When Morton heard that Nolan wanted to meet her for “The Odyssey,” she says she wept. If that sounds dramatic, she makes no apologies. She likens it to being an athlete who qualifies to represent their country at the Olympics. She’d spent decades honing her craft for that phone call. When it came, she flew to Los Angeles in January 2025 during the wildfires, embarking on what would become the best job interview of her life.

I ask her what she remembers about that meeting.

“I think it went really well,” Morton answers, laughing.

Morton told Nolan she hadn’t read “The Odyssey,” which, when you quit school at the age of 12, makes sense. Flying back home to England — she and her husband live in East Sussex with their children, 18-year-old daughter Edie and 12-year-old son Teddy — she recalled that, yes, she knew a bit of “The Odyssey” from having seen it parodied on an episode of “The Simpsons.” (“We’re ‘Simpsons’ mad in our house,” she says. “Like, mad.”)

But Morton doesn’t believe in bogging herself down in research, not since starring in a British TV production of “Jane Eyre” when she was 19 and carried around a heavily highlighted copy of the Charlotte Brontë book, despairing whenever the adaptation deviated from the novel. From that point on, she stuck to the script and her own imagination.

“That’s got to be guardian angels and love — and not that I suddenly became good at acting and got a job,” says Morton of her career. “I’ve always believed that anything is possible.”

(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)

Thinking about Circe, Morton recalled going to the library with her dad (“We had nothing and were beyond poor, but he always had a library card,” she says) and finding the Howard Pyle fairy-tale book “King Stork.” She remembers being mesmerized by the story’s wicked witch. She recalls other witches from folk tales like Baba Yaga, frightening characters but also, she says, “women possessing an innocence that had been eroded over the years by the harshness of life.”

Morton does a playful verbal evasion when discussing the nuts-and-bolts aspects of shooting the scene where Circe transforms Odysseus’ men, saying that back in the day when behind-the-scenes features were prevalent on DVDs, she routinely declined to participate.

“I didn’t mean to be tricky, but it was like: This is my private moment. This is for me,” she says. “I do like the idea of a little mystery.”

But then a beat later, she laughs it off and dives in, remembering that her husband showed her an Instagram post from Nolan’s set revealing how the movie’s Cyclops was, in fact, a puppet.

“Oh my gosh — I love puppets!” Morton raves, and off she goes, telling me how much she adores Jim Henson and how “The Dark Crystal” is one of her all-time favorite films.

What she will say about her “Odyssey” scene is that there were no digital effects. Everything was real and “in camera” and that she was so in the zone that she barely remembers any of it, only flashes.

“That’s not CGI,” Morton says. “That’s human brilliance and a connectivity of me as a performer, almost dancing and feeling one. And not to say that it was sexual, but I wanted it to be very sensual when she’s with the men and the animals, just like, you know, that she’s almost one with them.”

“What was lovely about that,” Morton begins and then stops, wondering if she should draw back the curtain on the creative process. She goes ahead. “There was a day on set when Chris was like, ‘OK,’ and he put his hand in because I was a little scared. It’s like that scene in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ where he puts his hand in the thing, and you’re like, ‘Oh no!’ I was a little nervous, but Chris did it first. I think he actually cut his finger.” She giggles. “You know, he’s going to go in first, like getting into the cold water in the sea. I felt protected and supported in that whole process.”

When Odysseus’ men arrive at Circe’s home, hungry, asking to be fed, Circe seems frightened — understandably so. She’s alone, and these soldiers have a history of pillaging and taking what they want. And yet, she’s a powerful sorceress. Is Circe really scared or tricking them to lure them in?

“I played that like she was genuinely frightened because she was caught off-guard,” Morton says. “I also wanted to play somebody that was all ages, so I played her like a 16-year-old girl in that scene. And then in other scenes, I’m playing her as a 90-year-old woman or a 49-year-old woman or a sister or a mother, a grandmother. I just wanted her to be ageless.”

Morton, looking out for Circe, stresses that transforming Odysseus’ men was not purely vengeful.

“It’s not just hate,” she says. “It’s not just harm. It’s not just anger. It’s almost like a Zen master within the goddess role of the teaching as well. ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ gluttony, greed, all of these things.”

There’s a righteous feminist rage underneath the scene as well, a modernization that brings “The Odyssey” fiercely and disturbingly up to date. It’s another reason why people leave are leaving the theater talking about Morton.

“In some weird way, the film lived or died over that character,” says director Nolan of Morton’s Circe, a creation of pure acting and no digital sorcery. “She was the fulcrum.”

(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)

Nolan thinks “The Odyssey,” in some weird way, “lived or died over that character — she was the fulcrum.” He told The Times that “after one of her takes, the crew gave her a great round of applause.” Emma Thomas, Nolan’s producing partner and wife, later recalled that the last time that had happened was with Heath Ledger on “The Dark Knight.”

Morton makes a point of telling me how much Ledger meant to her, having been cast opposite him (and Odysseus himself, Matt Damon) more than 20 years ago in Terry Gilliam‘s 2005 fantasy adventure “The Brothers Grimm.” Miramax chief Harvey Weinstein overruled Gilliam, dropping Morton from the film because, in his eyes, she wasn’t attractive enough.

“And Heath fought for me with such kindness and compassion,” Morton says. “He’s up there with Philip Seymour Hoffman for me. There’s something otherworldly personal about what they gave, such sincerity and vulnerability and an absolute dedication to craft. They leave a mark on your heart.”

It’s not the first time Morton has invoked the heart in our conversation. She brought her son, Teddy, to New York for the premiere of “The Odyssey” because she wanted to show him the place where her creative spirit was born. Morton first came to New York as a teen to do press for “Emma,” returned a year later to promote “Jane Eyre” and then couldn’t bring herself to leave, “sofa-surfing” at friends’ apartments so she could immerse herself in the city.

“New York stole my heart,” Morton says. It’s where she first got into literature, devouring Charles Bukowski, roaming the aisles at the St. Mark’s Bookshop, checking out movies from Kim’s Video and gobbling hash browns and eggs over easy at the Waverly Diner.

Not long after, Morton scored the role that would land her the first of two Oscar nominations (for now, at least), playing the mute laundress in Woody Allen’s “Sweet and Lowdown.” The production put her up in a Greenwich Village apartment and when it ended, she moved to the East Village.

Only the diner remains but Morton still plans on touring the Village with Teddy, showing off all of mom’s old haunts and, yes, having a cup of soup at the Waverly.

“Life is good right now,” Morton says, smiling. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll indulge in some hash browns.”

The Times’ preseason top 25 high school football rankings for 2026:

1. ST. JOHN BOSCO: Braves have few weaknesses but must prove they can win in the rain after last season’s first-round playoff debacle to Orange Lutheran.

2. CORONA CENTENNIAL: The offense is going to be balanced and explosive with quarterback Jaden Jefferson the trigger man and Quentin Hale his partner in battle.

3. SIERRA CANYON: Trailblazers have the offensive linemen and running back to run the ball and the defensive linemen to attack quarterbacks.

4. SANTA MARGARITA: Eagles won’t be ready to start the season dominating with too many young players but beware by season’s end.

5. ORANGE LUTHERAN: There’s already signs the Ray Fenton coaching formula is working with lots of talent on both sides of the ball.

6. MISSION VIEJO: Diablos have their best offensive line in years, giving coach Chad Johnson lots of options.

7. MATER DEI: Depth is gone but there’s enough talent to be very good on their best day.

8. SAN CLEMENTE: Just trust Jaxson Rex to do anything and everything for improved Tritons.

9. CHAPARRAL: There’s a crazy amount of offensive firepower ready to be unleashed.

10. RANCHO CUCAMONGA: They play tough, hard-nosed football.

11. EDISON: Quarterback Sam Thomson’s fourth year as starter sets the stage for big Chargers season.

12. CREAN LUTHERAN: If the Saints’ many transfers get eligible, quarterback Caden Jones should flourish.

13. GARDENA SERRA: With five starters back on the offensive line and the arrival of RB AJ McBean, Cavaliers are ready to play smashmouth football.

14. CHAMINADE: There’s speed and size surrounding sophomore quarterback Jeremy Mellalieu.

15. SERVITE: New coach Rick Garretson has a history of building top teams with speed, which Friars have plenty.

16. JSERRA: Lions will be competitive in nonleague games but Trinity League remains formidable challenge.

17. DAMIEN: USC commit Gavin Williams is the definition of the word elite on defense and offense.

18. PALOS VERDES: Ryan Rakowski is back for fourth year as starting quarterback and is a proven winner.

19. OXNARD PACIFICA: Quarterback Taylor Lee is back with lots of skill-position players.

20. LOYOLA: If Cubs can get production at the quarterback position, they can surprise teams.

21. BISHOP AMAT: Still one of the toughest teams to beat on their home field.

22. WESTLAKE: The scoreboard operator will deserve extra pay trying to keep up with Warriors’ scoring barrages.

23. CARSON: Best in the City Section looking to beat some Southern Section teams with improved line play.

24. CORONA DEL MAR: Should have excellent passing attack if the line can provide protection.

25. TUSTIN: Lots of individual talent but can they get breakthrough win against a top opponent?

Walking down a hallway at UCLA’s Wasserman Football Center earlier this week, I became a believer.

Bouncing hurriedly in my direction was a bright-eyed kid with a huge smile. I didn’t know him. He didn’t know me.

Yet as he passed, he suddenly stuck out his hand for a fist bump, which I was too stunned to ignore, and so I pounded back while wondering.

What just happened?

Then it hit me.

Bob Chesney just happened.

New UCLA football coach Bob Chesney has won over cynics with his unflinching optimism and attention to detail.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

The new football coach has infused the completely rebuilt program into a place so energetic, his players run around sharing their inspiration to complete strangers.

“Yeah, we’re gonna win here,” Chesney says.

This shared spirit starts every morning in this building, in the team meeting room, where Chesney orders his players to stand and sing the school fight song as if they are standing on the field after a victory.

The words to the song are displayed on a giant screen, which increasingly isn’t used because most of his players have now learned the song by heart. Those who fail to sing get tagged with a red laser pointer, so pretty much everyone croons.

“I’m not gonna let people put limits on us,” Chesney says. “I’m not gonna let them tell us what we can and can’t do.”

This shared spirit continues deep into the night, as some of his players recently had a pool party at the home of Cori Close, the Bruins national championship women’s basketball coach. She was not teaching them how to swim. She was teaching them how to win.

“People say why here?” Chesney says. “I say, why not here?”

He shows up for my early afternoon visit last week dressed uniquely for a $33.75 million coach of a Big Ten school on the outskirts of Hollywood.

He is dressed like a player. Black shirt, black shorts, thin sheen of sweat adorning his expressive forehead.

“Been lifting weights,” he says.

Are weight machines set aside for the coaches?

“Lifting with the players,” he says. “These guys are telling me what to do.”

UCLA coach Bob Chesney stands on the field in between players and shouts instructions during a spring practice.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

Full disclosure: I arranged my visit full of skepticism about this guy that has UCLA fans swooning.

C’mon. Seriously? He’s ready for this? How can he be ready for this?

The son of a small-town high school football coach in Pennsylvania coal country, Chesney had risen from obscurity to … more obscurity. He had previously coached at four different small schools you couldn’t find on a map. Salve Regina? Assumption? What?

This will be Chesney’s first shot under the bright lights. And he is taking that shot with a program whose best shots couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

The Bruins have not been to the Rose Bowl game in 28 years, and he is going to fix that? They have not won a Rose Bowl game in 41 years, and he was going to change that culture?

The celebrated Chip Kelly couldn’t do it. The emotional Jim Mora Jr. couldn’t do it. The cheerleading Rick Neuheisel couldn’t do it. The cerebral Karl Dorrell couldn’t do it. The affable Bob Toledo thought he had done it until his team inexplicably quit on him just 60 minutes from a berth in the national championship game.

I had covered all of these coaches, hearing their annual promises, seeing their annual collapses, realizing USC had a stranglehold on the college football money and attention in this town, and I had come up with an inescapable conclusion.

What Chesney is trying to do with UCLA football can’t be done.

Then I met him.

The best word to describe initial impressions of the 48-year-old former college safety would be, wow.

He talks fast. He oozes belief. He sells UCLA. He sells himself. He doesn’t shrink from his giant task. He doesn’t rationalize or equivocate his team’s sordid history.

He’s like one of those charming smart kids who never takes no for an answer.

“I feel it,” he says.”I feel it.”

No wonder his recruiting has been phenomenal, ranked seventh nationwide for the class of 2027, a trend that began this summer with 42 transfers, many of whom will start. No wonder he has been recognized by fans while hanging out in West Hollywood or Griffith Observatory or Dodger Stadium, where he’s already sat wide-eyed in a meeting with Dodger manager and UCLA grad Dave Roberts and Sandy Koufax.

He feels it, and the Bruin Nation feels it with him.

“Everybody’s included,” he says. “You wanna be included? C’mon, you’re included.”

As the self-proclaimed driver of the Bruin bandwagon in recent years — only to be derailed by midseason every time — I’ll pass on the inclusion. I’ve got to see it before buying it. But right now, Chesney has worked me up into such a lather that, yeah, I’m believing.

First, Chesney points to his resume, a litany of small schools who accumulated big victories, a dossier that includes only one losing season and none in the last seven years.

His head coaching career started at Division III Salve Regina (Rhode Island), where he turned eight consecutive losing seasons into three straight winning seasons.

“‘You can’t win there, nobody can win there’ is what they said,” Chesney says. “We won there.”

James Madison coach Bob Chesney and running back Wayne Knight celebrate after winning the Sun Belt championship on Dec. 5 in Harrisonburg, Va.

(Robert Simmons / Associated Press)

Then there was Division II Assumption in Massachusetts, where he took a team that had two winning records in 17 years and led them to five consecutive winning records and three straight playoff appearances.

“They said, ‘You can’t do it, nobody can do it,’’’ Chesney says. “We did it.”

Then there was Holy Cross, also in Massachusetts, where he took the team to a record five straight Patriot League championships while advancing as deep as the FCS quarterfinals.

“They told us, ‘The academics are too tough, the tuition is too high, you can’t win there,’’’ Chesney recounts. “We won there.”

Finally there was James Madison in Virginia, where he took a team whose stars had all followed Curt Cignetti to Indiana and still triumphed, leading them to a Cinderella appearance in the College Football Playoff.

“A lot of people doubted it, a lot of people didn’t believe it could work,” Chesney says. “We’ve proved a lot of people wrong throughout the years.”

After his resume, Chesney points to his surroundings. He is more awed by UCLA’s gravitas than any other football coach I can remember. It’s clear he can sell the school because he has such respect for the school.

“Here you’re a handshake away from changing your life … the school has an 8% acceptance rate, you’re walking around this campus with valedictorians and future CEOs and doctors and lawyers,” he says. “You’re surrounded by greatness, you have a chance to breathe this rare air that very few people get a chance to breathe.”

But for Chesney to fill this air with a football championship requires a price. It is a price that, so far, many potential donors have been reluctant to pay. But in today’s college football world, it is the cost of doing business.

Face it, Cignetti couldn’t have changed Indiana’s fortunes so rapidly if it wasn’t for Mark Cuban money. Chesney believes he can do the same thing here … with a little push.

Longtime UCLA donor Angelo Mazzone chipped in $10 million recently, and more such gifts are needed for UCLA to be able to pay the players that bring them a championship.

”There’s a major financial commitment that comes with getting those four- and five-star kids, but we can really turn the tables with that kind of help,” Chesney says. “Every single thing that is needed is here, we just have to make sure we get the support from the people on the outside that we need to actualize our dream.”

UCLA coach Bob Chesney shares his vision for the program during his introductory news conference on Dec. 9.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

He’s doing all the right things while chasing that dream.

Even as his bosses are pushing to move the team out of the Rose Bowl to SoFi Stadium, he loves the Rose Bowl, and took his team there for its spring game on a weekend that began with him standing outside the brightly lit marquee with his father and his son in the dark.

“It was one of those moments, I was like, man, the history of this place … to me to play in the Rose Bowl, what an honor and a privilege,” he says.

The game actually drew a decent spring crowd of 10,000-12,000, partially because Chesney had worked so hard at banging the drum. He and his players even brought pizzas to various campus groups in hopes of enlisting support.

“You want to be around this program, you can be around this program,” he says.

Then there’s his opinion of USC. He doesn’t have one. He never mentions them. For a UCLA coach, this is a good thing.

“I guess we’re perceived to be in their shadow, and for whatever reasons we weren’t an option the last couple of years, but look at our recruiting, I know we’re becoming an option for L.A. again,” Chesney says. “I think you can change a lot of people’s opinions on who they want to be rooting for.”

As in all levels of football, it all comes down to the quarterback, and Chesney had his first win by convincing budding star Nico Iamaleava. The kid was roundly criticized in this space for holding out and then walking out on his Tennessee team last year, but he has since grown up, and could be the sort of game-changer that Chesney requires.

“Watching Nico with his athletic ability, his arm, creating plays after the play with his legs, I have very high hopes,” says Chesney.

There are potentially outstanding transfers at half of the positions, and, with some solid returning players — this is a team that beat seventh-ranked Penn State, remember — the Bruins have a decent foundation.

UCLA coach Bob Chesney pats running back Anthony Woods on the helmet during the team’s spring game at the Rose Bowl on May 2.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Throw in a favorable 2026 schedule that doesn’t include Ohio State or Penn State or Washington or Iowa, and one thinks they might even have a chance at making some miracles.

“You’re going to see a different brand of football, one that is united, that is passionate, that is physical, that is tough, that has a lot of fun playing together,” he said.

You’re also going to hear a sound that died in the brief DeShaun Foster era, a sound that has never lasted more than a couple of weeks in the last 30 years.

That rumble is the Bruin football bandwagon. It’s revving up again. The inimitable force that is Bob Chesney wants to include you on the start of its journey.

Let him.

Some people don’t need an introduction.

Joe Torre, for one.

You know him. Baseball icon. Hall of Famer. The only big leaguer with 2,000 hits as a player and 2,000 wins as a manager, he steered the New York Yankees to four World Series championships — and the Dodgers to consecutive National League West crowns and NLCS appearances in 2008 and 2009.

So you’re well-versed on Torre’s baseball bonafides, but you might not be aware of the most meaningful part of his legacy: He’s spent the past 24 years helping people who actually would need to be introduced to him.

Kids who are too young to know Torre the player, manager, color commentator — but who can, unfortunately, relate with what he went through when he was their age. Kids who, like him, are growing up afraid and anxious because of domestic violence at home, and who need what Torre didn’t have — somewhere safe to go to for help.

Since 2002, Torre and his wife, Ali, have been behind the expanding the Joe Torre Safe at Home Foundation. Across the nation, they’ve set up safe spaces in schools, specialized classrooms that feel more like living rooms and that are manned by professional counselors trained in domestic violence intervention.

San Francisco Giants assistant manager Ron Washington hugs Joe Torre before a game at Dodger Stadium on May 14.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

They’re at schools in New York, Cincinnati, Tahiti and in L.A., at Bellflower Middle/High School and John Adams Middle School, John H. Glenn High and McKinley Elementary School, Palisades Charter High, Santa Monica High, Waite Middle School and Washington Preparatory High.

And they’re open to all, whether you’re a kid experiencing violence or you want to be able to help peers who are.

This past year, the foundation says it reached more than 28,000 students. And since it began, more than 425,000 young people, families, schools, and communities.

These Safe at Home spaces are all named “Margaret’s Place,” in honor of Joe’s mom, who was for years the victim of his father’s violent ire.

“It’s a tough subject to talk about,” Joe Torre said. “But you can’t run away from it.”

He did, though. He’s 85 now, but until he was 54, Torre didn’t reveal that baseball had been his refuge when he was growing up. He didn’t tell anyone that when he was a kid, if he saw his dad’s car in front of his house, Joe would go to a friend’s house and wait until he left for his job as a New York police detective. Joe didn’t share memories like he would later, of seeing his big sister, armed with a knife, standing between their mother and their father, who was going for his pistol.

St. Louis Cardinals third baseman Joe Torre poses swinging a bat prior to a game in 1971.

(Dave Pickoff / Associated Press)

He didn’t recognize what those traumatic experiences he’d tried to bury did to him, not until he started to talk about them.

“I thought I was born with this shyness and this nervousness,” Torre said before a Dodgers game in May, when the club introduced him and Ali and players and coaches wore T-shirts during batting practice that read: “Everyone deserves to be safe at home.”

“During my playing career,” Torre continued, “if we lost a game and I didn’t get any hits, I’d beat myself up. I was fortunate, I had a good career, but there was always something missing. I really probably could have enjoyed it a lot more than I did.”

That didn’t change until 1995, when he started talking about the domestic violence he experienced. He was surprised, he said, to find himself sharing his story, opening up for the first time at a “Life Success” seminar in Cincinnati, Ali’s hometown.

“Ali, she says, ‘You want to go to this Life Success symposium with me?’” Joe said. “And she’s eight months pregnant with our daughter and I’m not about to say no to anything she asks me to go. So we go in and they separate you, and they put you in groups of six strangers — and I’d just been named manager of the Yankees, so I’m very self-conscious.

“But after a day or so, you’re in it, you know? And then we went home and I called my sisters and asked them questions. Because they always tried to protect me, so I had to drag it out of them … ‘Did dad hit mom?’

“The biggest thing for me was knowing that my dad bringing fear down on the home was what caused my feelings that I was embarrassed to have. Once I went through that, I was able to go deeper.”

Yankees manager Joe Torre bumps fists with catcher Jorge Posada after a win in April 2004.

(Brian Kersey / Associated Press)

Speaking about what was previously unspeakable helped him cope with his trauma. He said it made him a more empathetic manager and a more confident man. It also made him want to speak out publicly and to encourage others to do the same, to break the cycle of silence.

So they’re getting the word out at — where else? — ballparks. There was the stop at Dodger Stadium in May, and before that, in 2025, seven major league teams had activations at games, as did 63 minor league clubs who hosted a “Safe At Home Awareness Game.”

Because often we do need an introduction, to connect kids with people who can keep them safe, who can assure them they’re not the only ones in their position.

“He’s talked about this many times: If he had access to a program like Margaret’s Place, he wouldn’t have felt like he had to carry this burden alone,” said Rose Robles, the foundation’s senior director of programs. “That was one thing he’s really stressed, he felt he was the only one that was going through this.

“And he would have had some options, some choices for how to respond to what he was experiencing and how to understand it. One thing that we say is that violence thrives in silence, and that is basically what he was experiencing.”

Forty-four percent of the kids Margaret’s Place counselors helped in 2024-25 were dealing with some form of violence at home. Twenty-seven percent have experienced some form of relationship or dating violence. They also help kids who’ve been exposed to community violence or other traumatic events, or who are grieving a traumatic loss.

Dodgers manager Joe Torre pauses for a moment while answering questions in August 2010.

(Jae C. Hong / Associated Press)

At Bellflower Middle and High School, Principal Jessica Cummings said a Teen Dating Violence Awareness Week and parent workshops focused on fostering healthy relationships increased awareness on her campus.

“We are grateful,” she wrote in an email, “for this partnership and the positive impact it has had.”

Of the students surveyed after receiving services, Safe at Home indicated that 99% reported feeling safer and 93% said they used the tools they learned in counseling.

Torre has absorbed decades of anecdotal feedback too — the knowing nods he sees in the crowd when he’s talked to groups of kids about this, the cameraman who slipped him $20 to put toward the foundation, the interviewer who shared his account of having grown up in a violent household.

“Anyone can become a victim,” Ali Torre said, “Our goal is to intervene and prevent. There are little boys we can have conversations with: ‘You don’t have to repeat the cycle.’ To little girls, ‘There’s an option for you…’

“And Joe has opened a lot of doors for us.”

When you think of Joe Torre, it’s as a former Dodgers skipper. A nine-time All-Star and the 1971 National League Most Valuable Player.

You should also think of him as a champion of children who now know that they aren’t alone, and that they have people who will go to bat for them.

WASHINGTON — Justice Anthony M. Kennedy, the Supreme Court’s most influential member prior to his retirement, has watched quietly for eight years as a new conservative majority took charge.

He was troubled by partisan gerrymandering, but a year after he stepped down, a 5-4 ruling closed the federal courts to challenges to state voting maps that allow one party to rig the elections in its favor.

Though he believed abortion was a moral wrong, he cast the crucial vote in 1992 to uphold Roe vs. Wade and the principle that a woman, not the government, had the right to decide on ending an early pregnancy.

Four years ago, that decision was overturned on a 5-4 vote.

While Kennedy has refrained from commenting on the current court or President Trump, he has written a memoir that tells his life story and explains the reasoning behind the major decisions of his era.

It has become common for the justices to write books, but they steer clear of writing about the work of the court. Kennedy’s book, “Life, Law & Liberty,” is, like the justice, the exception to that rule.

An Irish Catholic from Sacramento and a Reagan Republican, Kennedy had a generally conservative voting record over 30 years on the high court. But he had a distinct view of liberty and justice.

“The nature of injustice is that we may not always see it in our own times,” he wrote in 2015.

Kennedy rejected the “rigid” view that the Constitution’s promises of liberty and equal protection of the law, as well as the protection against cruel and unusual punishment, were limited to their “original” meaning in the Bill of Rights of 1791 or the 14th Amendment of 1868.

After all, slavery and segregation were legal for much of American history, and women were not protected from discrimination by the promise of “equal protection” in the 14th Amendment.

Kennedy remained open to new rights and liberties. The goal, he wrote, was “a decent society in which the Constitution and the rule of law treat all with dignity and equality.”

He was the justice who made the difference in several areas of law, none more significant than in LGBTQ+ rights.

He wrote the court’s four major rulings rejecting discrimination based on sexual orientation. In 2015, he spoke for the 5-4 majority to uphold same-sex marriages nationwide.

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family,” he wrote. “Many same-sex couples provide loving and nurturing homes to their children, whether biological or adopted. And hundreds of thousands of children are presently being raised by such couples.”

They “ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right,” he concluded in Obergefell vs. Hodges.

He also believed that teenagers who commit crimes are not as culpable as adults. He wrote a court opinion in 2005 ending executions for murderers who were under age 18 at the time of their crime.

Five years later, he wrote the court’s opinion holding it was cruel and unusual punishment for judges to impose a sentence of life in prison with no chance for parole for a teenager’s crime that did not involve homicide. In the case before the court, a Florida teen was given a life term for committing an armed robbery and a home burglary prior to his 18th birthday.

Kennedy marked his 90th birthday on Thursday and says his favorite topic of conversation is not the nine justices but his nine grandchildren. He still goes to the court some days and says he is worried by the tone in Washington and around the country.

“It is too partisan and confrontational,” he said in a recent interview with The Times. “I’m concerned that the divisiveness may be reflected at the court.”

Democracy requires “reasoned and respectful debate,” he said, not personal attacks and name calling.

Kennedy may be the last justice of his kind, said Washington University law professor Daniel Epps, a former Kennedy clerk.

“I don’t think we’ll see another justice who is so ideologically unpredictable and who votes against his party of appointment in some of the hugest cases in our lifetimes,” he said. Kennedy emerged from “an appointments process that was less polarized, where there were conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans and a Senate filibuster, which all made it possible for moderates to be appointed.”

While Kennedy describes himself at times as a small-town lawyer from Sacramento, he knew the two California governors, both Republicans, who reshaped the Supreme Court.

Kennedy’s father was a friend of Gov. Earl Warren, and young Tony played with Warren’s children. He also worked as a young page in the state Capitol when Warren was governor.

He was a high school senior in 1954 when Warren, the new chief justice, spoke for a unanimous court to strike down racial segregation in the case of Brown vs. Board of Education.

He and his father agreed the ruling was long overdue. It also provided an early lesson in how justices can uphold the fundamental principles of the Constitution despite intense opposition in much of the nation.

He said he later learned a second lesson. The Brown decision was “a historic step forward” but it “just a beginning” in the fight against entrenched racial injustice.

In writing the same-sex marriage case, Kennedy cited Warren’s opinion in the 1967 case of Loving vs. Virginia which struck down the bans on interracial marriages in 16 states.

As as young lawyer, Kennedy worked on special projects for Gov. Ronald Reagan and admired him greatly. He was just 38 years old when, at Reagan’s behest, he was appointed to the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals.

As president a decade later, Reagan had appointed Justices Sandra Day O’Connor and Antonin Scalia to the Supreme Court and elevated William Rehnquist to be the chief justice. But his third nominee — Judge Robert Bork — was voted down as too conservative by the Senate.

Reagan invited Kennedy to the White House and offered him the nomination. Kennedy recalled telling Reagan that he and his wife Mary were happy in Sacramento where all their friends and family lived. We don’t know anyone in Washington, he said.

President Reagan gestures toward Judge Anthony M. Kennedy’s family after nominating Kennedy to the Supreme Court in 1987.

(Dennis Cook / Associated Press)

In his best imitation of Reagan’s voice, he recounted the president’s response: “You know me. And you know Nancy.”

Kennedy accepted the nomination and was confirmed in February 1988 by a 97-0 vote, the last justice to win unanimous approval from the Senate.

His three decades on the court were shaped in part by his relationship with Scalia.

Kennedy and his wife bought a house in the same northern Virginia neighborhood where Scalia lived. In their early years on the court, they appeared to be friends and allies.

They broadly supported freedom of speech. To the surprise of many, they cast the deciding votes in 1989 to rule that the 1st Amendment protects the right to burn an American flag in protest.

A year later, Kennedy and Scalia dissented vehemently when the court ruled the Michigan Chamber of Commerce and its corporate supporters could be barred from advertising their support for state candidates.

The decision triggered a decades-long dispute that ended with the Citizens United ruling in 2010. Kennedy spoke for a 5-4 conservative majority to rule that corporations, unions and other groups were free to spend money independently to oppose or support candidates.

But when the court was closely split in major cases, Kennedy was likely to be in majority while Scalia wrote scathing and increasingly personal dissents.

“I would hide my head in a bag,” Scalia wrote in dissent in the same-sex marriage case, rather than join an opinion “couched in a style that is as pretentious as its content is egotistic.”

Kennedy was put off by a different jab. Scalia said the justices do not represent the full country. For example, the court lacks a “genuine Westerner (California does not count),” he wrote.

Since Scalia’s death, his influence has grown especially with the younger generation of conservatives.

Two of Trump’s appointees — Justices Neil M. Gorsuch and Brett M. Kavanaugh — were clerks for Kennedy in 1993, but they are far more likely to cite Scalia and his views on interpreting laws or the Constitution. Justice Amy Coney Barrett, Trump’s third appointee, was a clerk for Scalia.

While Kennedy did not respond to Scalia’s harsh dissents, they hung over their last year together on the court.

One day in early February of 2016, Scalia stopped by Kennedy’s office to talk.

“Nino said he had come to regret deeply the tone of his Obergefell dissent and its personal references. He apologized for being intemperate,” Kennedy wrote. “Neither of us is big on hugging, but we hugged, both of us smiling.”

They agreed to get together for dinner with their wives when he returned from a hunting trip to Texas.

A week later, Scalia’s wife Maureen called to tell them of his death.

“Nino and I spent 28 years on the court together,” Kennedy wrote. “We sometimes agreed and sometimes disagreed, but I respected him and miss him very much.”

The Bahrain and Saudi Arabia Grands Prix were initially scheduled for April but were called off in March as a result of the war launched by the US/Israel against Iran.

F1 is keen to host at least 21 races, because any less than that would activate contractual clauses that could see the sport have to pay rights fees back to broadcasters and may also mean the same for teams with sponsorship budgets.

The arrangement between Bahrain and Malaysia was heavily influenced by Bahrain’s Crown Prince Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa.

The Bahrain race has been Prince Salman’s pet project since it made its debut in 2024. Bahrain’s sovereign investment fund is also the owner of the McLaren F1 team.

F1 president and chief executive officer Stefano Domenicali said: “We are delighted to confirm that Malaysia will host the Bahrain Grand Prix in 2026. Once again, the sport has demonstrated its ability to adapt, find solutions, and deliver, creating an exciting moment for everyone who follows Formula 1.

“I would like to express our sincere thanks to His Majesty King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa, King of Bahrain, His Royal Highness Prince Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa and His Majesty Sultan Ibrahim, King of Malaysia, as well as their respective governments for making this extraordinary outcome possible through their vision, commitment, and decisive action.”

Sepang, which last hosted a race in 2017 and made its debut on the F1 calendar in 1999, is a popular track with fans and Domenicali added: “Malaysia is an incredible country, and Sepang holds a special place in Formula 1 history. It will provide a spectacular setting for racing and an unforgettable experience for fans at the circuit and watching around the world.”

SACRAMENTO — As the architect of a one-time tax on California billionaires, Dave Regan says he’s pushing the measure to raise $100 billion to protect low-income patients, workers and hospitals from President Trump’s cuts to healthcare.

The behind-the-scenes negotiations with Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office in June to pull the measure off the ballot, however, revealed another possible goal, according to two sources familiar with the talks who requested anonymity to share details of the discussions with The Times.

Regan, the president of SEIU-United Healthcare Workers West, asked for union contracts with two hospitals in San Diego and Fresno and a clinic in Imperial County, among a list of sweeping demands to grow his union, in exchange for rescinding the measure, the sources said.

The union leader denied that he asked for concessions for his union in exchange for removing the billionaire tax from the ballot, calling the allegations “categorically false.”

“We are trying to solve a problem,” Regan said. “The problem is to prevent a catastrophe in California’s healthcare system. We put forward a proposal. Nobody else has offered a solution, and none of what you are referencing happened.”

The talks failed to result in a deal and the measure will appear as Proposition 40 on the November ballot, leaving California voters to decide pivotal tax policy that has roiled the Democratic Party and opponents worry could ultimately reduce revenue for the state budget.

The terms Regan allegedly laid out raise the question of whether he intended for the billionaire tax to go on the ballot, or if it was designed as a leverage play to expand his union, which represents more than 120,000 workers and is among the largest healthcare unions in the nation.

Regan, who has been elected to five consecutive terms as union president since 2011, has a record of launching ballot initiatives at the state and local level to use as leverage for union expansion and to thwart his political opponents.

His foes say that this year he went too far.

“It’s no secret in Sacramento that the ballot initiative has been used this way by UHW as a weapon,” said Francisco Silva, president of the California Primary Care Assn., which represents community clinics. “They’ve been very vocal about it and we think it’s a bigger risk to the safety net than any benefit that it brings.”

Known as a stubborn negotiator and a brash personality, Regan has filed multiple ballot initiatives against the healthcare industry.

His opponents say his strategy centers on launching initiatives that would hurt employers, which forces them to come to the table to negotiate. Regan’s union then requests union contracts or other concessions that could pave the way for a collective bargaining agreement. If employers resist, the initiative advances to the ballot. Voters consistently reject his measures, but companies still spend millions of dollars campaigning against them.

Over the years, Regan has proposed multiple measures that would have limited charges and executive salaries at hospitals and dropped the initiatives after landing temporary deals with the California Hospital Assn. that could help his union’s organizing efforts.

This year, UHW agreed to call off an initiative to again cap compensation for hospital leaders, and the hospital association rescinded its dueling proposal to require the union to seek approval from its members to spend more than $1 million on a statewide ballot measure campaign.

Regan led and lost measures against the dialysis industry in 2018, 2020 and 2022 as he struggled to force dialysis companies to recognize his union and negotiate a contract.

Silva accused Regan of using the same playbook in negotiations around another measure on the November ballot, Proposition 44, which would restrict spending at nonprofit community health clinics.

Regan drafted Proposition 44 to require that community clinics spend 90% of revenue on patient services, which he said ensures that money is aligned with the mission of the health centers. But Silva said the measure dramatically reduces funding for other essential services in the community care model, such as community outreach, education, overhead costs, technology and medical equipment investments, and programs that bring people living on the streets into the healthcare system.

About 70% of the patients community clinics serve are insured through Medi-Cal, and the rest are either on Medicare or uninsured, with a small portion on private insurance, Silva said. The measure would result in layoffs and clinics being forced to close, and ultimately reduce access to care for low-income Californians, he said.

“One of the things that stands out that really highlights the abuse of the ballot initiative process in this instance is that the substance of what’s on the ballot has nothing to do with what he wants to negotiate with us,” Silva said. “The request was to guarantee 25,000 workers, or else.”

Regan also denied that he asked the clinics to support his unionization efforts in exchange for dropping Proposition 44.

“We wanted to construct a relationship with the clinic association that prioritized appropriate funding of the community clinics in California, including restoring the healthcare cuts that were introduced by the ‘One Big [Beautiful] Bill,’” Regan said. “It was a strategic relationship where we’re working in a mutually cooperative way to properly fund the healthcare system to respect workers, and they were not interested in that.”

Regan’s opponents say his strategy runs afoul of the purpose of direct democracy and pushes the bounds of legality.

During negotiations on the billionaire tax, essentially put the onus on Newsom to force unrelated private hospitals and clinics to unionize their employees, the sources said.

Despite a desire to call off the tax measure, Newsom’s office couldn’t provide guarantees to satisfy Regan’s demands, according to those sources.

California legislators changed state law in 2014 to provide more flexibility around initiative negotiations and to allow proponents to pull measures off the ballot after they gather enough signatures and qualify for the election, said Mary-Beth Moylan, an associate professor of law at McGeorge School of Law.

State law also prohibits a proponent of an initiative from bargaining for money or a thing of value in exchange for abandoning their measure, which hasn’t been tested in court, she said.

“I think the intention behind the law allowing the ballot measures to be negotiated off was that the negotiation would be for the Legislature to do the thing that you’re bringing about in the measure,” Moylan said. “It is not to use it as leverage for obtaining something else.”

Regan’s wealth measure retroactively applies a one-time 5% tax on the net worth of billionaires who were residing in California as of Jan. 1, 2026.

He and advocates of his proposal cast it as a solution to the healthcare cuts from the Trump administration. It comes as the progressive message on wealth inequality has gained support in California and beyond.

“What’s remarkable about the situation is that everyone — the governor, the Legislature, the healthcare industry — everyone agrees that the ‘One Big Beautiful’ bill is going to result in 3.5 million people losing healthcare coverage, 150,000 frontline healthcare workers losing their jobs, community clinics and hospitals closing, and all of us who buy or receive our healthcare through job-based insurance are spending more on premiums, deductibles, and copays because the legislation defunded healthcare and in return gave yet another round of huge tax cuts to the wealthiest Americans,” Regan said. “That’s why we have put Proposition 40 forward.”

Newsom contends that Regan’s solution won’t work.

Instead of paying more California taxes, billionaires would simply pick up and move to another state with a lower tax rate before the start of the year, the governor warned. The state budget is dependent on income taxes the rich pay on stock market and similar profits.

A report from the Hoover Institution at Stanford University estimated that the tax would generate only $40 billion, not the $100 billion proponents claim, largely because of an expected exodus of billionaires. Overall, the tax would result in an estimated loss for the state of $24.7 billion, with the permanent decline in future income tax revenue due to billionaire migration eclipsing any gains from the one-time levy, according to the report.

Regan rejected the findings of the report and cast doubt on the amount of taxes that billionaires actually pay in California.

Newsom sought to negotiate with Regan to remove the billionaire tax from the ballot before the beginning of the year. At the time, Regan said he wanted an extra $20 billion for healthcare in 2027-28, which is beyond Newsom’s time in office and not something the outgoing governor could promise, according to two sources familiar with the negotiations.

Regan said he never asked for $20 billion in funding for healthcare to remove the billionaire tax from the ballot. He said he was open to hearing alternative solutions that never came.

“But did we ever make a proposal, or did we ever receive a proposal for something different?” Regan said. “The answer is no.”

In the spring, Newsom began working to form a coalition against the initiative that includes Planned Parenthood, doctors and firefighters while billionaires launched a series of counterproposals.

In an unusual split within labor, major unions such as the California Teachers Assn. and the State Building and Construction Trades Council oppose the measure. Teamsters California and AFSCME California joined Regan. The SEIU California State Council and California Federation of Labor Unions have yet to take positions.

Under California law, proponents had until June 25 to rescind measures that earned enough signatures to qualify for the ballot. Negotiations picked up again to remove the measure from the ballot shortly before the deadline. Two sources said Regan’s demands changed and allegedly had nothing to do with raising money to offset federal healthcare cuts.

Sources said Regan said he wanted union contracts with two private hospitals and a health clinic, an organizing neutrality agreement with healthcare clinics statewide, recognition of his union from dialysis clinics and for billionaires to remove measures they launched in response to his tax.

Newsom’s office said they couldn’t force private companies to do anything. The governor’s aides offered an alternative plan to dedicate around $7 billion over several years to healthcare funding in California, which didn’t move Regan.

“There were no negotiations,” Regan said about the billionaire tax.

Days before the deadline to pull the wealth tax measure from the ballot, UHW announced an offer to reduce the billionaire tax from 5% to 2% of net worth that the union said Newsom rejected. Sources said the compromise was first offered in a press release and did not reflect any serious negotiation.

Regan set a goal to add 25,000 new members by this year and has so far added around 8,000, according to the union’s website.

In exchange for removing the billionaire tax from the ballot, sources said one of Regan’s demands was for Newsom’s office to get involved with battles for union contracts at hospitals in Fresno and San Diego and a clinic in the Imperial Valley.

The union is tied up in labor disputes over recent attempts to unionize facilities in two of those places — Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego and Innercare, a community clinic in El Centro.

The dialysis industry became a ballot target for Regan three election cycles in a row as he attempted to unionize its workers.

The battle is on pause after dialysis companies agreed to not oppose a $25 minimum wage increase for healthcare workers and UHW agreed to not target the industry in legislation or ballot measures through the end of this year, but the fight turned DaVita and Fresenius Medical Care into major political donors in state campaigns.

California’s billionaire class is also increasing its presence in state politics.

Billionaires pushed two measures on the November ballot that seek to neutralize the billionaire tax and block new taxes on personal property and assets and require audits of new programs funded with special taxes.

The billionaire tax has also become a national rallying cry for the political left, drawing the high-profile support of U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and others who are fed up with wealth inequality. Opponents of Proposition 40 have questioned whether any of the solutions Regan proposed would have been enough for him to remove the measure from the ballot and avoid the wrath of progressives who backed the tax.

Sacramento political observers say the unintended consequences of Regan’s tax measure are already reshaping California politics.

“When he did the billionaire tax, all these people who never engaged in politics finally woke up,” said Jim DeBoo, a Democratic consultant and former chief of staff to Newsom. “And they aren’t going away.”

The measure is causing a rift within the SEIU California State Council, an umbrella organization that represents more than 700,000 workers from all SEIU unions including UHW.

The billionaire tax only benefits healthcare. SEIU, which also represents workers in the public sector, nursing homes, child care and other service industries, has become a target of California’s wealthiest new political players despite most of its union members gaining nothing from the measure.

Billionaires and their companies, including Ripple co-founder Chris Larsen, venture capitalist Tim Draper, Google and Meta have spent nearly $30 million on a successful campaign to oppose SEIU-backed progressive candidates or boost moderate Democrats in legislative races. The same donors spent only $50,000 on independent expenditures in legislative races in the entire 2024 election cycle.

Shaudi Fulp, a political strategist working with Larsen and Draper, said a new governor and lawmakers present an opportunity to build fresh governing coalitions around issues that matter most to Californians.

“California is entering a unique moment of transition,” Fulp said.

The billionaires’ strategy is whittling away at SEIU’s influence in the state Legislature, where the state council has historically used its endorsements and army of volunteers to boost progressive candidates aligned with their cause. Moderates backed by billionaires beat nearly every SEIU-endorsed candidate in more than a dozen races in the June primary, with record spending knocking union candidates out of the top two in places such as Bakersfield and Orange County.

The SEIU California State Council declined to comment for this story.

The battle over the billionaire tax is also expected to become the most expensive ballot measure campaign of the election cycle, if not ever. The opposition is poised to exponentially outspend UHW.

“Look, the only thing that stands down a bully is when you punch him in the face,” said Brandon Castillo, a political consultant who has represented healthcare providers against UHW on more than a dozen initiatives. “You can’t sit back and continue to take punches or nothing will change.”

Staff writer Nicole Nixon contributed to this report.

He said the quiet part out loud. As the artistic director of New York’s Public Theater and one of the art form’s most prominent leaders, Oskar Eustis is known to do that. And as always, he got the art world talking.

When Eustis, 67, announced Wednesday that he would step down from his role at the Public in 2028 — after 23 years — he said in a New York Times interview that “the American nonprofit theater movement is over.” This has been whispered about and lamented since the COVID-19 pandemic led to temporary theater closures across the country that have since become permanent, but it is rare to hear it expressed so candidly.

Did Eustis, one of the key players in that vaunted movement — the man who helped foster “Hamilton” — really mean what he said? And if so, how does theater move on in the face of obstacles that at times feel as though they are scattered across an increasingly difficult course? In a wide-ranging follow-up interview with the Los Angeles Times, Eustis addressed the path forward.

Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo portray Alexander and Eliza Hamilton in “Hamilton.” The megahit premiered off-Broadway at the Public Theater under Oskar Eustis in 2015.

(Disney+)

It’s not an easy one, but Los Angeles theater leaders working in the trenches, including Tarell Alvin McCraney at Geffen Playhouse, Danny Feldman at Pasadena Playhouse and Snehal Desai at Center Theatre Group, already knew that. They talked with the Los Angeles Times about their plans at the crossroads reached by American theater in light of Eustis’ imminent exit.

Eustis traces the rise of the American nonprofit theater movement to the late 1950s when W. McNeil “Mac” Lowry, director of the arts and humanities program at the Ford Foundation in New York, began organizing existing regional theaters into a national movement.

“What happened during that period was that a consensus emerged,” Eustis said, noting that it was expressed in the form of national endowments, state arts agencies, public policy institutes and corporate philanthropic departments. “An idea of the common good was held throughout the country, and there were many stakeholders. And part of that idea of the common good was a broadly held belief that Americans deserved serious, non-market-driven performing arts.”

With no feudal background, America lacked a capital city like London or Paris designed to showcase the arts, so the idea spread across all 50 states. This led to the proliferation of the regional theater movement, said Eustis, as well as that of symphony orchestras and ballet companies.

“The explosion of the regional theater movement is actually, in retrospect, astonishing,” Eustis said. “From a few scattered theaters in the 1950s, by the early ‘70s, there were over 400 professional nonprofit theaters in every state of the union. Tens of thousands of people were employed. Millions and millions of audience members every year. That’s the field that I walked into in the early ‘70s.”

Fifty years later, those stakeholders have “absolutely zero consensus on whether theater should exist as a nonprofit performing arts field or whether we should exist at all,” Eustis said. “It’s gone.”

“We’ve kind of been living, in a way, off inertia of this old idea,” he added.

The great pandemic pause, along with the racial reckoning in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the continued fracturing of a shared reality under President Trump, served to reveal how fragile that consensus was, Eustis said, and, “It’s not coming back.”

Where does that leave American theater in 2026?

“We’re faced with the need to prove to the people in our individual communities that we matter enough to them that they should support us,” Eustis said. “Now, that’s not a very bad demand to put on an art form.”

Except, as every theater that has lately dared put on a show created by new, experimental or unknown artists knows, it can feel like an insurmountable task.

Danny Feldman, artistic director of Pasadena Playhouse, said that the days of theaters underpaying talent are over.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Smaller theaters across the country, including many in L.A., have shuttered with staggering regularity in the last six years, which puts even greater pressure on the city’s most prominent nonprofits to shine a light on a sustainable model moving forward.

Feldman, Pasadena Playhouse’s artistic director, noted that Eustis represents the second generation of leaders of the “first chapter” of the nonprofit regional theater movement. “And that to me is what is now undeniably at the end.”

He said he and Eustis have discussed the subject at length. “We are now in a very different era. And the things that got us to this point are not the things that are going to get us to the next chapter.”

McCraney, Geffen Playhouse’s artistic director, said forging a path forward in nonprofit theater without succumbing to commercial pressure to produce only guaranteed hits requires the delicate balance of surfing.

“And there’s no better place to surf than in L.A.,” McCraney said over the phone from the Public, where he was meeting with Eustis and other theater leaders to share ideas. “I feel very connected to a bunch of folks who recognize that the regional theater model has always had to have radical vision, and that those radical visions need revision, because our most practical job is to make sure that communities have stories.”

Tarell Alvin McCraney, artistic director of Geffen Playhouse, compared the balancing act theater leaders must perform to surfing.

(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)

It’s not just the way theater tells — and funds — stories that must evolve. It’s the entire business model, the leaders note.

The beauty and the founding of the original regional movement, said Feldman, was artists saying, “New York is not just where it’s at. We’re going to go to our communities. We’re going to make things with and for them, and really build these ecosystems that are deeply entrenched in these local communities around the country. … And I think the underbelly of that — that maybe has not been discussed as much — was always an element of subsidized labor involved.”

In L.A. and elsewhere that meant a lot of artists in the front and back of the house working for incredibly low wages. The pandemic effectively put an end to that, and as workers demanded fair compensation, the cost of producing shows skyrocketed. Most theater leaders agree that part is as it should be. Eustis points to the recent unionization of the Public’s production department as a case in point.

“For the first time in history, everybody who’s swinging a hammer on our productions has health insurance,” he said. “They have it through the union. That’s a good thing. And it’s put a shock wave through the whole industry, but you know what? We figured out how to pay development directors. We should figure out how to pay carpenters. That’s part of growing up.”

Center Theatre Group Artistic Director Snehal Desai said Oskar Eustis’ departure from New York’s Public Theater represents a “pass the mantle” moment.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Desai, CTG’s artistic director, said he views Eustis’ decision to step down as a “pass the mantle moment.”

“Oskar has been a huge mentor to so many of us,” Desai said. “It’s up to us, the next generation of leaders, to figure it out, just as his generation did in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s when they built these institutions for us.”

At CTG that means exploring a new way of doing things including touring shows, intensive work in various communities and site-specific productions, all of which “can change the financials and the model of how we’re doing business.”

As for Eustis? He plans to leave the Public in the best possible shape for the next generation of artists, and never wavers from its core mission. “This is a theater of democracy that believes that the culture belongs to everybody,” he said.

Good morning, and welcome to L.A. on the Record — our City Hall newsletter. It’s Noah Goldberg giving you the latest on city and county government.

There’s no exact way to measure the effectiveness of Los Angeles City Council members.

But we analyzed three basic elements — meeting attendance, committee assignments and amount of legislation drafted — to give readers a sense of what their local electeds are up to.

Meeting attendance

As part of charter reform efforts, the City Council considered reducing the number of council meetings from three per week to just one.

The proposal failed earlier this month after receiving stiff pushback from at least one councilmember, Monica Rodriguez.

“Meeting less for a city of 4 million people I think sends the wrong message. Particularly when you have the best-paid council in the country,” said Rodriguez in an interview on Fox 11 earlier this year (each councilmember makes an annual salary of more than $244,000). “This idea that we would be meeting less I believe runs contrary to what the public is demanding form their council.”

Yet Rodriguez isn’t a stickler for showing up to meetings herself, ranking near the bottom of her colleagues for attendance. Since the start of 2025, Rodriguez has attended about 86% of meetings, missing 25 out of 177 meetings, according to a Times analysis.

Gabriel Avalos, a spokesperson for Rodriguez, implied that other work-related matters kept her from the meetings.

“There’s no distinction for absences related to city business, but she certainly wasn’t absent due to dishes and laundry,” Avalos said.

Only two other councilmembers missed more meetings than Rodriguez — mayoral candidate Nithya Raman, who missed 30 meetings, and Curren Price, who missed 34 while dealing with illnesses.

On the other end of the spectrum, Council President Marqueece Harris-Dawson, who runs the meetings, missed the fewest — just four of the 177 meetings from January 2025 until this month.

Eunisses Hernandez and Ysabel Jurado each attended 169 meetings, or about 96%.

Stella Stahl, a spokesperson for Raman, said that most of the councilmember’s absences were due to her position as the city’s representative on the South Coast Air Quality Management District.

The remaining absences, Stahl said in a statement, “were tied to a small number of previously scheduled conferences and speaking engagements relevant to her committee work and district priorities, along with occasional sick days and travel for a funeral.”

Committee assignments

Council members are appointed to committees by the council president. They can sit on additional committees if the president lets them.

These small groups of council members are responsible for reviewing the first drafts of legislation. Committee chairs have the power to move legislation forward — or stall it — by either putting it on the agenda, or not.

The busiest councilmembers are Hugo Soto-Martínez and Adrin Nazarian, who each sit on nine committees, including some temporary “ad-hoc” ones. Councilmember Tim McOsker follows with seven committee assignments.

But the number of committee assignments isn’t necessarily the clearest indication of power. Katy Yaroslavsky serves on only five committees, but she chairs the Budget and Finance Committee, which edits and approves the mayor’s proposed budget before sending it to the full council for one of its most important annual votes.

At the bottom of the list is Price again, who sits on four committees, including as chair of the Committee on Economic Development.

Legislation

Another easy marker is the amount of legislation a council member authors.

At each meeting, dozens of pieces of legislation go before the council — some high-profile, others just to keep the lights on at City Hall (literally).

Rodriguez, despite her relatively low attendance, was at the top of the legislative list over the last year and a half, drafting 199 motions.

A good chunk were motions on whether to support or oppose bills at the state and federal level. Rodriguez also had the most ceremonial street namings of any council member, with 13.

Rodriguez pointed to more significant legislation, like an ordinance banning city workers from taking on additional gigs for Immigration and Customs Enforcement, as her proudest achievements.

After Rodriguez, McOsker was the second-most prolific author, with 178 pieces of legislation, followed by Traci Park with 163.

At the bottom were Price with 84 and Harris-Dawson with 90.

State of play

— HOMELESSNESS RISING: Homelessness, including those living in shelters and other temporary facilities, went up by 3.4% across the city compared with 2025. Unsheltered homelessness — those living outdoors or in their vehicles — was up 7.9% after two consecutive years of decreases, dealing a fresh blow to Mayor Karen Bass as she runs for reelection.

— DISAPPEARING ACT: Bass’ press relations office communicates through WhatsApp messages that auto-delete every 24 hours, potentially shielding the messages from public records requests, according to three sources familiar with the office.

— PLAY BALL: In 1936, Los Angeles made it a misdemeanor to play baseball, basketball, soccer or any other ball game on a street or sidewalk. Nearly a century later, when kids spend half as much time outside as their parents did, City Councilmember Bob Blumenfield wants to cut the obscure law from the books.

— THE ICE EFFECT: A new study from the UCLA Latino Policy & Politics Institute found that businesses within half a mile of nine ICE enforcement sites had 46,000 fewer customer visits and an estimated $3.16 million in accumulated revenue losses during the two weeks after enforcement activity.

— NEW HONCHO: Los Angeles schools Supt. Andrés E. Chait made a calm official entry into his new job Tuesday, emphasizing rising test scores and “a sense of belonging” that binds school communities.

QUICK HITS

• Where is Inside Safe? The mayor’s signature program was at San Pedro Street Elementary School in Ysabel Jurado’s district, bringing 34 people indoors.
• On the docket next week: The Los Angeles City Council remains on recess next week.

Stay in touch

That’s it for this week! Send your questions, comments and gossip to LAontheRecord@latimes.com. Did a friend forward you this email? Sign up here to get it in your inbox every Saturday morning.

After nearly a month of mulling his options, LeBron James announced in a social media post that he will sign with the Philadelphia 76ers on a two-year, $8-million contract.

James, a small forward, will join guards Tyrese Maxey and V.J. Edgecombe, forward Jaylen Brown and center Joel Embiid in a star-studded 76ers lineup. James’ deal includes a player option, Klutch Sports Group Chief Executive Rich Paul told ESPN.

In a series of X.com posts, James said he contemplated retirement before choosing the 76ers over several other suitors.

“I was honest at that last press conference when I said I needed to look at myself and decide if I still love this game. I still truly love this game, and I have more to give,” he said.

James will hope to break a 43-year championship drought for the 76ers, much the same way he erased a 52-year streak without a title for the city of Cleveland when he won a championship with the Cavaliers in 2016.

This likely will be the final free agency decision James will make as the 41-year-old enters a record-breaking 24th season. He said winning a fifth NBA title is his primary motivation.

“This is my last decision. I’m not going for money. I’m not going for family. What am I really playing for at this point?” James wrote on X. “I still want to sacrifice. I still want to work. I still want to grind. I still want to compete, to win and to have a chance at the feeling of winning another championship.

“I believe I can help make the Philadelphia 76ers a championship team and I am so excited to energize a new fan base and start this incredible journey one last time.”

The 76ers finished 45-37 and seventh in the Eastern Conference last season. However, they traded for Brown, a bona fide superstar, sending Paul George, two first-round draft picks and two second-round picks to the Boston Celtics on July 6. Brown, a nine-year veteran, averaged 28.7 points a game last season and helped the Celtics win the NBA title in 2024.

This was the fourth foray into free agency for James, who played the previous eight seasons with the Lakers, his longest continuous stint with any franchise.

It was widely reported that James would accept the $3.9 million veterans’ minimum exception. He will be paid far less than the approximately $57 million new teammates Embiid and Brown each will make, but James has made a record $584 million in career salary and his net worth is an estimated $1.4 billion thanks to endorsements and investments.

Reaction to the signing was swift. Nobody seemed more excited than Dawn Staley, the decorated South Carolina women’s basketball coach and a Philadelphia native. A longtime friend of James and his family, she posted a video while courtside at a game.

“Yo Philly, yo Philly, yo Philly! We got the King, y’all!” Staley said before telling James’ wife, Savannah, that she is available for advice on a school for the James’ daughter. “Savannah, we got you! ‘Bron, ‘Bron, good, great choice. My guy!”

James’ new teammates also expressed delight on social media. Maxey compared his recruiting skills to his college coach John Calipari, while Edgecombe recreated James’ famous “Can’t believe this is my life” meme.

James, an Akron, Ohio, native, played his first seven seasons with the Cavaliers after being the first overall draft pick in 2003 at age 18, spent four with the Miami Heat then returned to Cleveland for an additional four years before signing with the Lakers ahead of the 2018-2019 season. He has won four NBA championships, including one with the Lakers in 2020.

James informed the Lakers on June 30 that he would be signing elsewhere. Since then several teams made pitches for his services, with the Golden State Warriors, Heat, Cavaliers and Minnesota Timberwolves considered favorites along with the 76ers.

Not only were fans of those teams anxious to learn his decision. Last week, NBA commissioner Adam Silver said the regular-season schedule had not been set because the league was waiting on James.

“We have to finish up the schedule. And where LeBron plays will affect the schedule,” Silver said at the CNBC Sport x Boardroom Game Plan Summit in New York. “So I would like him to make his announcement already, so we can finish the schedule, because, as you might imagine, the teams are calling us, the networks are calling us, and everybody wants to lock in the schedule. But it will influence how we set the schedule, how we set opening week, Christmas Day, etc. So I need him to make a decision.”

A day later, James stood on stage at Fanatics Fest in New York and said he wanted to join a team that “shares the same model as myself, and that’s like practicing championship [habits] every day, but trusting the process more than anything.”

A false alarm became part of the narrative when the Heat posted a link July 21 to a scheduled livestream titled “LeBron James Introductory Press Conference” to its YouTube channel. A team spokesperson said it was a mistake, that the club’s social media department was preparing for the possibility of James’ signing. The post was deleted.

James has announced his agreements with new teams in various ways. When he left the Cavaliers in 2010 to team with Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh on the Heat, he announced his choice on a live television special called “The Decision,” saying “I’m taking my talents to South Beach.” On Friday morning, a thread on X relayed the big news.

Fans in Cleveland burned his jersey, and Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert posted a letter on the team website calling James’ decision a “cowardly betrayal.”

Four years and two NBA championships with the Heat later, James returned to his home state of Ohio to play for the Cavaliers again in 2014. His first-person Sports Illustrated essay written with senior writer Lee Jenkins shared his “I’m Coming Home” choice with the world.

“I always believed that I’d return to Cleveland and finish my career there,” James wrote. “I just didn’t know when. After the season, free agency wasn’t even a thought. But I have two boys and my wife, Savannah, is pregnant with a girl. I started thinking about what it would be like to raise my family in my hometown. I looked at other teams, but I wasn’t going to leave Miami for anywhere except Cleveland.”

James led the Cavaliers to four consecutive NBA Finals and a championship in 2016 when Cleveland overcame a 3-1 deficit to defeat the Warriors. It was the greatest NBA Finals comeback in history and brought the Cavaliers their first title.

But it turns out most of his child-rearing came in Los Angeles. In 2018, James decided not to pick up his player option and signed a four-year, $153.3-million contract to play for the Lakers, choosing them over the 76ers and a return to the Cavaliers. His salary escalated each year, rising to $52.6 million last season.

“LA has welcomed the arrival of Rabbit, Logo, Stumpy, Big Dipper, Captain, Silk, Magic, Big Game, Diesel, Mamba, Spaniard and now welcomes a King!!” Lakers co-owner Joey Buss tweeted.

In James’ second season in L.A., the Lakers won their 17th NBA championship in a bubble at Walt Disney World to cap the pandemic-shortened 2020 season. James notched a triple-double in the clinching Game 6 and earned Finals most valuable player for the fourth time in his career.

James set the league all-time scoring record while wearing the purple and gold, but his eight seasons with the Lakers also included failures. The 2021-2022 season is widely regarded as the most disappointing in team history. The overwhelming favorite in Las Vegas to win the championship when the season began, the Lakers finished 33-49 and missed the playoffs.

The Lakers never made it past the Western Conference finals over the next four seasons, including getting swept in the conference semifinals by the Oklahoma City Thunder in 2026. James averaged 20.9 points, 6.1 rebounds and 7.2 assists last season while adding to his list of NBA records, setting marks for games played, all-time wins and field goals made.

The Lakers pivoted quickly after James announced he wouldn’t return, overhauling the roster to complement star guards Luka Doncic and Austin Reaves. They traded for 7-foot-2 center Walker Kessler and signed free agents Sandro Mamukelashvili, Quentin Grimes, Collin Sexton, Matisse Thybulle, Ziaire Williams and Kevon Looney.

Meanwhile, James methodically listened to pitches from a handful of teams, ultimately settling on the 76ers.

Paul, James’ agent and close friend, said on a podcast Monday that the ample time James took making the decision was necessary because the choice was difficult.

“I think it’s important for people to understand: We’re not making this about attention and a spectacle,” Paul said. “It’s not about a ‘Decision’ or anything like that. He has a choice to make. He has a business choice to make.”

Giving himself the best shot at a fifth title was key. James has played in 302 postseason games, by far the most of any NBA player, and scored 20 or more points in 261 of them. His teams are 42-15 in playoff series and 188-114 in games. He has scored the most points in the playoffs (8,521) in addition to the most points in the regular season (43,440).

“It’s amazing what he’s done for the sport, for the league, and he deserves the opportunities that were presented to him to be able to make his own decision on what’s best for him and his family,” Silver said last week. “So I completely respect that.”

Dear Dave Roberts: I was totally disgusted to see you at the Dodgers’ White House ceremony pandering to Trump. As far as I was concerned, you made a complete fool of yourself. I’m sure many Dodgers fans were equally horrified with your behavior.

Susan Stann
Temecula

Today’s visit to the White House was baseball, not politics. It was a boost for MLB, not columnists who try to be political hacks with personal bias. If the hacks or detractors listened to the references it was all about achievement in what the team did to win. The Dodgers are part of the entertainment industry which annually draws maybe a billion fans or more and certainly billions of dollars. The hacks and detractors will not be convinced otherwise but if you line up any 50,000 fans at a game, you will see a positive vote for the privilege of going to the White House. Baseball wins, sports wins, the entertainment industry wins, and America wins. Boo the hacks and the ignorant detractors.

Bill Koury
La Cañada

Dave Roberts justifies his appearance with Donald Trump because it is a “baseball tradition” that should be honored.

I didn’t hear him protesting to uphold other baseball traditions such as banning Black players from baseball, not having designated hitters, or starting with a runner on second base in extra innings.

Traditions come and go. It seems Mr. Roberts traded his moral compass for a trip to the White House lawn.

David Griffin
Westwood

In my dreams Dave Roberts says, “Nope, not gonna go to the White House. If they want to fire me, let ‘em.” Dream on.

Jay James
Pico Rivera

I will suggest the nuclear option. The Dodgers should never again visit the White House. No matter who is president.

Dennis Doherty
West Los Angeles

NEW YORK — Miguel Rojas’ off day in Washington started early. Before visiting the White House, he and fellow World Series hero Will Klein and manager Dave Roberts met with members of Congress on Thursday morning.

“Other than going to the White House, there were a lot of people from California, senators from California that are not just people who work for the government, but they’re Dodgers fans as well,” Rojas said Friday before the Dodgers’ series opener against the Mets. “So it’s pretty cool to give people that watch games and support us throughout the year [an opportunity] to get to see us.”

Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) posted on X, “Think we can do this every year, @Dodgers?” with three photos — one of himself with their back-to-back World Series trophies, another posing with a World Series ring on his finger, and a group shot that included Rojas, Roberts, Klein and Dodgers president Stan Kasten.

Rep. Luz Rivas (D-North Hollywood), whose district includes several San Fernando Valley neighborhoods, posted on social media that she thanked Rojas for hitting his tying home run in Game 7of the World Series.

“Thank you to Miguel and the team for stopping by Capitol Hill,” she posted on X. “We can’t wait to welcome them back again next year (with a THIRD trophy, perhaps?…).”

The Dodgers’ visit to the White House on Thursday frustrated the portion of their fan base that wanted their team to stand up against the president’s anti-immigration policies.

Only two players on the active roster who were part of the 2025 World Series team did not attend: shortstop Mookie Betts, who told reporters he’d rather spend time with his family, and reliever Edgardo Henriquez, who declined to comment via Dodgers PR.

“This is something that I don’t really think about [being] political,” Rojas said of visiting Capitol Hill and the White House. “…I’m representing the Dodgers, and I’m going to these events just because I’m part of the Dodgers, and the Dodgers are deciding to go there. And I feel, as a professional, your job doesn’t just stop when the game is over. You have to do some things outside the field that sometimes are tied to success and to the things that you do on the field. So, for me, it’s a privilege to get the opportunity to go to a place where you will never be if you don’t have success in sports.”

Roberts, who has also talked about separating the visit from politics, kept his review brief.

“It was good,” he said. “It was an honor to be there.”

Ohtani update

Dodgers two-way star Shohei Ohtani is scheduled to throw a bullpen session Saturday, his second since receiving an injection in his left knee at the beginning of the All-Star break.

“That’s the beauty of where we’re at right now,” Roberts said. “We’re not going to push him. There’s constant conversation going on each day. But the main thing is with Shohei and this pitching thing is to remain nimble.”

Even if Ohtani’s bullpen goes well, Roberts said he probably won’t be ready to return to the rotation next week.

“That’s too early,” Roberts said. “I feel good that it won’t be next week.”

On Saturday at Dodger Stadium, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Fuerza Regida took center stage for a career-defining show, delivering cinematic time-travel segments and hints of off-stage controversy.

The Mexican American band joined an illustrious list of legendary acts — Elton John, the Beatles, Michael Jackson and Beyoncé to name a few — to perform at the iconic venue built on Chavez Ravine, the shallow canyon that served as home to thousands of Mexican American families forcibly displaced in the 1950s for the sake of progress.

In June, the San Bernardino quintet kicked off its This Is Our Dream stadium tour across nine U.S. cities to close out its manifestation project “111xpantia.” The 2025 LP peaked at No. 2 on the Billboard 200 in May 2025, becoming the highest-charting Spanish language album by a duo of band ever. It also comes a year after the band sold out the Madison Square Garden and the Hollywood Bowl in consecutive nights.

But the stadium tour — which will end Aug. 7 in New York’s Citi Field — does more than showcase the band’s recent mainstream success. It honors the years of grit it took to get there.

“It’s proof that dreams are worth chasing, fighting for, even when it feels hard or impossible,” said Khrystian Ramos, the band’s rhythm guitarist.

As part of the set design, a massive prop car stereo was affixed atop the stage. Inspired by the 1985 film “Back to the Future,” it doubled as a time traveling machine. But instead of a DeLorean, the band opted for a Chevrolet 454 SS pickup truck, a car that symbolizes the American dream for lead singer Jesús Ortiz Paz, better known as JOP, and is largely associated with the group’s corrido forefather, the late Chalino Sanchez.

The first stop in Fuerza Regida‘s journey to the past was 2018, as the band performed its breakthrough hit, “Radicamos En South Central,” a song about gradually building a drug empire that went viral on YouTube. Shortly after its release, the band signed with independent label Rancho Humilde and followed up with “Sigo Chambeando,” a bouncy corrido that embodies the band’s “never stop hustling” ethos.

It’s a mindset that has served them well.

The more than a decade-long road to selling out Dodger Stadium certainly wasn’t easy for the corrido tumbado band, which formed in 2015 and first built a fan base by performing cover songs at local parties across the Inland Empire. .

Jose “Pelon” Garcia, left, Jesus Ortiz Paz and Khrystian Ramos of Fuerza Regida perform during their This Is Our Dream Stadium tour at Dodger Stadium on July 18 in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/For De Los)

“We got kicked out of a gig one time. The guy literally told us that he didn’t like our music,” said Ramos. “That drive home was a key moment in our career.  It showed us that it’s not all stars and rainbows.”

Ramos started the band alongside the band’s 12-string guitarist, Samuel Jáimez. The two met at martial arts school as kids and kept in touch in the years that followed, jamming out together after their 9 to 5 .

The band’s name was originally Raimez — a portmanteau of Ramos and Jáimez— but was later changed to accomodate the arrival of lead singer JOP.

“I remember exactly [where we came up with the name]. We’re driving down the 10 passing Mount Vernon Avenue,” said Ramos. “Fuerza Regida, a  governing force. Wherever you step, the presence is felt.”

That certainly was the case on that warm July evening as the more than 56,000 fans in attendance chanted the band’s name in unison.

“Not in a thousand years, I didn’t see it until it crept up. It was like alcohol,” said Jáimez about the band’s global success.

Sousaphone player José García, also known as Pelon, never imagined that leaving behind a steady job to pursue his musical dreams would pan out like this.

“I worked in construction Monday through Friday and we had gigs with Fuerza Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I practically had two jobs,” said García. “I had life insurance. I had benefits, 401(k), all that. So I left a really good job so I could join Fuerza Regida.”

In 2022, the band added its fifth member, Moisés López, who plays the tololoche — a small upright bass. López, who contributed to the 2020 track “Vamos Bien” as a bass player, said that JOP had asked him to learn the instrument if he wanted to stay with the group. “He bought me it. I picked it up real quick and from there it’s history.”

Jesus Ortiz Paz, left, and Moises Lopez of Fuerza Regida perform during their This Is Our Dream stadium tour at Dodger Stadium on July 18 in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/For De Los)

At the concert, the time machine took attendees back to 2022, Fuerza Regida’s bélico era marked by the corridos “Billete Grande” and “Igualito A Mi Apá” as well as its gentler viral hit “Bebe Dame,” the first Fuerza Regida song to reach the Billboard 100, peaking at No. 25.

“We went from clubs to theaters to arenas. I’ve never thought we would get this far,” said López. “We’ve always said hard work beats talent.”

But it isn’t just drive that has shaped Fuerza Regida’s career — time and time again, the band has proved to be adaptable and experimental, always evolving its sound and drawing from a wide range of influences.

2023 saw the release of “Pa Las Baby’s y Belikeada,” a party record that fuses trap, pop and EDM, and features the player anthems “TQM” and “Sabor Fresa”; to complement the womanizer themes of the record, there was a baddie camera on stage, which panned to women in the audience.

As the band sang its 2023 ballad “Una Cerveza” — a song about getting drunk to forget a lost love— a girl across my way called her ex and lifted her phone up in the air so that he could hear its heartbreaking lyrics. Then she hung up.

The Dodger Stadium show felt like a massive celebration, not just for the band but for música mexicana as a whole. Special guest performances throughout the night included Los Gemelos de Sinaloa, Calle 24, Chino Pacas, Clave Especial and Chuyin — acts that have helped fuel the meteoric rise of the genre.

“I’m proud and grateful that la raza is finally doing it. We’re here to stay,” Jaimez said.

Though the show focused on Fuerza Regida’s past, there were also hints of what’s to come. The band’s relationship with its record label Rancho Humilde has become acrimonious and litigious. In recent months, JOP has repeatedly accused founder Jimmy Humilde of withholding royalties and sabotaging the band. In turn, the record mogul has claimed that the band is not fulfilling its contractual obligations. A bitter divorce feels imminent.

“The internet tells a lot of lies. False news. That supposedly someone won a lawsuit. But that lawsuit is still underway and we know who will win,” JOP told the audience before singing “Triston,” a track released at the start of 2026 that was immediately pulled from the streamers. “They took this song off the platform but they can’t stop us from singing the song here.”

CHICAGO — Bayou Barbie is back in Chicago. With her own Barbie, too.

Angel Reese is playing in her third WNBA All-Star Game on Saturday at the United Center. This time, she is representing Atlanta in her first season with the Dream after a messy split with the Chicago Sky.

“It’s so crazy, full circle,” Reese said, “I’m back here in Chicago, again, where it kind of all started. … Coming to Atlanta, I mean it’s been a dream come true, literally. It’s helped me in so many different ways.”

Reese, 24, is on “Team Coop” for this weekend’s showcase event, alongside Dallas Wings guard Paige Bueckers and New York Liberty forward Breanna Stewart. Indiana Fever guard Caitlin Clark and four-time MVP A’ja Wilson of the Las Vegas Aces headline “Team Spoon.”

WNBA greats Cynthia Cooper and Teresa Weatherspoon drafted the All-Star teams from players who were either voted as starters by fans, media and fellow players or chosen as reserves by the league’s coaches. Las Vegas’ Becky Hammon is coaching Cooper’s team, and Minnesota’s Cheryl Reeve is in charge of Weatherspoon’s squad.

“Honestly I’m just really happy to be here and be surrounded by so many amazing women and All-Stars and Hall of Famers and people that I’ve looked up to my entire life,” Bueckers said. “I never want to take these moments for granted and just really soak it up and enjoy building relationships with people.”

All-Stars Angel Reese, left, and Paige Buekers, right, joke around before practice at the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago on Friday.

(Paul Beaty / Associated Press)

Minnesota guard Olivia Miles, part of “Team Spoon,” is the only rookie picked for the All-Star Game in the WNBA’s 30th season. The No. 2 pick in this year’s draft is averaging 19.3 points and 5.9 assists in 26 games for the Lynx.

“It’s definitely weird being the only rookie, but I know I belong and I’m happy to be here,” Miles said. “It’s an honor. Definitely grateful, and, yeah, just soaking it all in.”

Reese starred at LSU before she was selected by Chicago with the No. 7 pick in the 2024 draft. The 6-foot-4 forward earned the nickname “Bayou Barbie” while helping the Tigers win the 2023 national championship.

Fast forward to Friday, when Mattel unveiled a Reese Barbie doll with a pink Angel No. 5 jersey and special Reebok basketball shoes.

“I remember, I think it’s been three years now, since the Bayou Barbie came about when I was in Baton Rouge, and I used to put Barbie stuff on merch and stuff, and I wasn’t really supposed to,” Reese said. “So I told them I really wanted to have a Barbie doll one day, and to have Barbie is, like, you got to be iconic.”

Reese averaged 14.1 points and 12.9 rebounds over two seasons with Chicago. But the Sky won just 23 games in during that time.

Reese was critical of Chicago’s play at the end of last season. She apologized to the team for her comments and was suspended for the first half of a game against Las Vegas.

She was shipped off to her new home in April, traded to the Dream for two first-round draft picks.

“The double-doubles, they don’t matter unless we’re winning,” Reese said. “So I’m just really happy to be with Atlanta. They have welcomed me with open arms. It feels like a really safe place for me. It’s the safest I’ve ever felt, the most loved I’ve ever felt. And I’m really happy to be with them.”

Atlanta is 16-10 at the break, and Chicago has a 9-18 record. Reese is one of three All-Stars from the Dream, joining Rhyne Howard and Allisha Gray.

While Reese is suiting up for “Team Coop,” Howard and Gray are playing for “Team Spoon.” Weatherspoon coached Chicago during Reese’s rookie year.

“I love her. Like you see her, she’s so positive,” Reese said of Weatherspoon. “She comes in every day and just is always just happy. And you just want somebody in your life like that. And she’s a legend. She’s a legend of the game. She’s done a lot of amazing things that I want to do as well.”