latimes--2020-07-17--California unemployment falls, but virus surge likely to reverse job gains

California added 558,200 jobs from mid-May to mid-June and state unemployment fell from 16.4 % to 14.9 % — but don ’ t start celebrating yet .
The numbers don ’ t account for the resurgence of COVID-19 cases throughout the U.S. and in California in the last half of June or the retreat in plans to reopen the economy .
The numbers were released Friday morning by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics , which slightly revised the earlier jobless figure from 16.3 % to 16.4 % .
Leisure and hospitality added the most jobs , at 292,500 , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dine-in restaurants , according to the California Employment Development Department .
As of mid-June , that sector had regained more than a third of job losses from March and April .
Construction jobs had the highest percentage gain , clawing back 68 % of jobs lost during the pandemic .
Government suffered the largest decline in jobs , at 36,300 .
But the dial-back is bound to reverse a positive trend in rehiring as bars , restaurants , hotels , airlines and thousands of other affected businesses scale back already reduced operations or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , an attorney at Duane Morris and former head of the California Employment Development Department .
“ In some cases , workers rehired in June have been laid off [ again ] within a short time , ” he said .
“ In other cases , companies decide they can no longer hang on .
Every day brings reports of businesses announcing they are closing permanently in California.
” Still , he said , the job gain is the highest in the nation , and probably the largest monthly jobs gain since World @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be jerky .
The nonpartisan Economic Policy Institute said that due to the latest rise in COVID-19 cases , “ Layoffs are going to pick up again as people are laid off for a second time , and hires will likely slow as well .
“ Even with June ’ s rebound , which followed a small upturn in May , payroll employment in California stands 1.9 million lower than February .
This represents an 11 % drop , worse than the 9.6 % loss for the nation as a whole , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Loma Nazarene University in San Diego .
She noted that California ’ s current unemployment is nearly four times its 4 % year-ago rate and well above the 11.1 % national rate .
“ California ’ s efforts to reopen the economy , coupled with pent-up demand from consumers , fueled an impressive rebound in early June .
Unfortunately , the negative repercussions on health suggest that this sharp upswing will be short-lived , ” she said .
The jobs picture in Los Angeles County , which added 200,000 jobs , was worse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ whole , although the unemployment rate declined , from a revised 21.1 % in May to 19.5 % in June .
Orange County , with a gain of 71,600 jobs , saw the rate moderate from a revised 14.7 % to 13.7 % .
The rate for Inland Empire ( Riverside and San Bernardino counties ) declined from a revised 15.1 % to 14.3 % as the area added 41,300 jobs .
The impact of the pandemic has varied considerably by economic sector .
The unemployment rate in Santa Clara County , home @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in June .
Many software-related jobs can be done at home , and in some ways the pandemic boosts the information economy .
Technology is “ a big winner , ” said Sung Won Sohn of the SS Economics consulting firm in Los Angeles .
“ Digitization including remote communication , online shopping , social media and digital streaming have added jobs.
” But in farming areas , where housing for field workers tends to be cramped , promoting community spread , the situation is much different .
“ Let me be clear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ good news , ” said Fernando Lozano , labor economics professor at Pomona College .
But , he said , “ the fall in unemployment is most modest in regions that are highly impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic.
” In agriculture-based Imperial County , the rate barely moved , slipping from 27.8 % to 27.5 % .
Imperial tops the state in COVID-19 prevalence with 824.6 per 100,000 residents .
On Thursday , the federal Labor Department said 1.3 million workers across the U.S. filed for unemployment insurance for the first time last @ @ @ @ @ @ @ exceeded a million new claims per week since March , for a current total of 17.4 million workers .
The full impact of the government restrictions on business activity won ’ t be clear until next month ’ s report .
But new unemployment claims for the week ending July 11 rose 287,732 , an increase of 22,941 claims over the previous week .
In the meantime , freelance and gig worker new jobless claims rose 126,000 .
Between regular unemployment and the freelance-gig program , 7.8 million claims have been filed in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to that the 14.3 million freelancers and gig workers receiving money from the Pandemic Unemployment Assistance program , and the total number of people receiving jobless benefits in the U.S. is about 32 million .
Looming over this picture is the upcoming end of the federal government ’ s $ 600-a-week assistance for unemployed workers , due to expire July 25 .
Congress is considering an extension , but some proposals would reduce payments to $ 400 or $ 450 .
Bernick said businesses that were able to keep paying employees under the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out of benefits and are beginning to lay workers off .
From mid-May to mid-June , the jobs outlook appeared brighter .
The U.S. economy gained 4.8 million jobs during that period , after a gain of 2.7 million the previous period , while unemployment fell to 11.1 % , from 13.8 % .
Leisure and hospitality jobs , which includes workers at bars and restaurants , accounted for about 40 % of the national June job gain .
But even with those gains , the U.S. is operating with 15 million fewer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ before the serious nature of the pandemic became clear in the U.S. , national unemployment was about 3.5 % , near a 50-year low .
Current unemployment dwarfs the 132,800 California jobs lost at the height of the Great Recession between December 2008 and January 2009 .
Policymakers from local school boards to the president of the United States face tough choices as widespread disease and death are balanced against economic health .
“ We ’ ve come to the point in the pandemic where there are no good choices , ” Bernick @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to make choices going forward , and this morning ’ s numbers at least provide a glimpse of what is possible if we can reopen the economy again.
” After the numbers were released , state leaders were quick to warn the public about the persistence of COVID-19 , beseeching individuals to take precautions .
“ It is crucial that we remember that every Californian has a role to play as we work to safely recover , ” said Chris Dombrowski , head of the Governor ’ s Office of Business and Economic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our collective future , which is why wearing a face covering , washing hands , staying home when possible , and adhering to state and local guidance will help slow the spread of COVID-19 and ensure we can once again regrow our economy .
”

California added 558,200 jobs from mid-May to mid-June and state unemployment fell from 16.4% to 14.9% — but don’t start celebrating yet. The numbers don’t account for the resurgence of COVID-19 cases throughout the U.S. and in California in the last half of June or the retreat in plans to reopen the economy. The numbers were released Friday morning by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, which slightly revised the earlier jobless figure from 16.3% to 16.4%.
Leisure and hospitality added the most jobs, at 292,500, benefiting from statewide reopenings of bars and dine-in restaurants, according to the California Employment Development Department. As of mid-June, that sector had regained more than a third of job losses from March and April. Construction jobs had the highest percentage gain, clawing back 68% of jobs lost during the pandemic. Government suffered the largest decline in jobs, at 36,300.
But the dial-back is bound to reverse a positive trend in rehiring as bars, restaurants, hotels, airlines and thousands of other affected businesses scale back already reduced operations or remain closed, said Michael S. Bernick, an attorney at Duane Morris and former head of the California Employment Development Department.
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“In some cases, workers rehired in June have been laid off [again] within a short time,” he said. “In other cases, companies decide they can no longer hang on. Every day brings reports of businesses announcing they are closing permanently in California.” Still, he said, the job gain is the highest in the nation, and probably the largest monthly jobs gain since World War II.
But any recovery will be jerky. The nonpartisan Economic Policy Institute said that due to the latest rise in COVID-19 cases, “Layoffs are going to pick up again as people are laid off for a second time, and hires will likely slow as well.
“Even with June’s rebound, which followed a small upturn in May, payroll employment in California stands 1.9 million lower than February. This represents an 11% drop, worse than the 9.6% loss for the nation as a whole,” said Lynn Reaser, economist at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. She noted that California’s current unemployment is nearly four times its 4% year-ago rate and well above the 11.1% national rate.
“California’s efforts to reopen the economy, coupled with pent-up demand from consumers, fueled an impressive rebound in early June. Unfortunately, the negative repercussions on health suggest that this sharp upswing will be short-lived,” she said.
The jobs picture in Los Angeles County, which added 200,000 jobs, was worse than that in the state as a whole, although the unemployment rate declined, from a revised 21.1% in May to 19.5% in June. Orange County, with a gain of 71,600 jobs, saw the rate moderate from a revised 14.7% to 13.7%. The rate for Inland Empire (Riverside and San Bernardino counties) declined from a revised 15.1% to 14.3% as the area added 41,300 jobs.
The impact of the pandemic has varied considerably by economic sector. The unemployment rate in Santa Clara County, home to Silicon Valley, was 10.7% in June. Many software-related jobs can be done at home, and in some ways the pandemic boosts the information economy.
Technology is “a big winner,” said Sung Won Sohn of the SS Economics consulting firm in Los Angeles. “Digitization including remote communication, online shopping, social media and digital streaming have added jobs.”
But in farming areas, where housing for field workers tends to be cramped, promoting community spread, the situation is much different.
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“Let me be clear, half a million new jobs is good news,” said Fernando Lozano, labor economics professor at Pomona College. But, he said, “the fall in unemployment is most modest in regions that are highly impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic.”
In agriculture-based Imperial County, the rate barely moved, slipping from 27.8% to 27.5%. Imperial tops the state in COVID-19 prevalence with 824.6 per 100,000 residents.
On Thursday, the federal Labor Department said 1.3 million workers across the U.S. filed for unemployment insurance for the first time last week. New jobless claims have consistently exceeded a million new claims per week since March, for a current total of 17.4 million workers.
The full impact of the government restrictions on business activity won’t be clear until next month’s report. But new unemployment claims for the week ending July 11 rose 287,732, an increase of 22,941 claims over the previous week.
In the meantime, freelance and gig worker new jobless claims rose 126,000. Between regular unemployment and the freelance-gig program, 7.8 million claims have been filed in California since the pandemic started.
Add to that the 14.3 million freelancers and gig workers receiving money from the Pandemic Unemployment Assistance program, and the total number of people receiving jobless benefits in the U.S. is about 32 million.
Looming over this picture is the upcoming end of the federal government’s $600-a-week assistance for unemployed workers, due to expire July 25. Congress is considering an extension, but some proposals would reduce payments to $400 or $450. Bernick said businesses that were able to keep paying employees under the temporary federal Paycheck Protection Program have run out of benefits and are beginning to lay workers off.
From mid-May to mid-June, the jobs outlook appeared brighter. The U.S. economy gained 4.8 million jobs during that period, after a gain of 2.7 million the previous period, while unemployment fell to 11.1%, from 13.8%. Leisure and hospitality jobs, which includes workers at bars and restaurants, accounted for about 40% of the national June job gain. But even with those gains, the U.S. is operating with 15 million fewer jobs than February.
In February, before the serious nature of the pandemic became clear in the U.S., national unemployment was about 3.5%, near a 50-year low.
Current unemployment dwarfs the 132,800 California jobs lost at the height of the Great Recession between December 2008 and January 2009.
Policymakers from local school boards to the president of the United States face tough choices as widespread disease and death are balanced against economic health.
“We’ve come to the point in the pandemic where there are no good choices,” Bernick said. “But we do have to make choices going forward, and this morning’s numbers at least provide a glimpse of what is possible if we can reopen the economy again.”
After the numbers were released, state leaders were quick to warn the public about the persistence of COVID-19, beseeching individuals to take precautions.
“It is crucial that we remember that every Californian has a role to play as we work to safely recover,” said Chris Dombrowski, head of the Governor’s Office of Business and Economic Development. “Our individual actions impact our collective future, which is why wearing a face covering, washing hands, staying home when possible, and adhering to state and local guidance will help slow the spread of COVID-19 and ensure we can once again regrow our economy.”


latimes--2020-07-17--Man uses dog to carjack Caltrans truck, then goes on joyride to John Wayne Airport, police say

A 31-year-old man was arrested Thursday after police say he used a large dog to help him carjack a Caltrans work truck outside an amusement park in Irvine and took the vehicle on a joyride that ended when he crashed at John Wayne Airport .
A Caltrans worker was sitting in the truck with the engine off in the parking lot of Boomers on Michelson Drive when a man , later identified by police as Erik Baumle , opened the passenger door and startled the state employee .
The worker asked Baumle what he was doing , but Baumle didn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ threw a large dog into the vehicle , Irvine police Sgt .
Karie Davies said in a news release .
“ Not knowing if the dog was vicious and fearing for his safety , the victim exited the truck , ” Davies said .
Baumle moved over to the driver ’ s side of the work truck and drove out of the parking lot onto Michelson Drive while the worker jumped into another Caltrans vehicle that was parked nearby with a fellow employee inside .
The pair called 911 shortly after 1:40 p.m. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the city , Davies said .
Officers spotted the stolen truck and followed it to John Wayne Airport , where Baumle tried to drive it onto the second story of a parking structure near the departing terminals .
But the truck was too tall , and it struck the top of the parking garage .
Baumle put the truck in reverse and crashed into a police car , authorities said .
He eventually stopped , but remained in the truck for five minutes before surrendering to police .
Baumle was arrested on suspicion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and assault with a deadly weapon , Davies said .
He is being held at Orange County Jail in Santa Ana in lieu of $ 100,000 bail , according to arrest records .

A Caltrans truck was stolen from the parking lot of Boomers off Michelson Drive in Irvine on Thursday, police said.
A 31-year-old man was arrested Thursday after police say he used a large dog to help him carjack a Caltrans work truck outside an amusement park in Irvine and took the vehicle on a joyride that ended when he crashed at John Wayne Airport.
A Caltrans worker was sitting in the truck with the engine off in the parking lot of Boomers on Michelson Drive when a man, later identified by police as Erik Baumle, opened the passenger door and startled the state employee.
The worker asked Baumle what he was doing, but Baumle didn’t respond. Instead, he threw a large dog into the vehicle, Irvine police Sgt. Karie Davies said in a news release.
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“Not knowing if the dog was vicious and fearing for his safety, the victim exited the truck,” Davies said.
Baumle moved over to the driver’s side of the work truck and drove out of the parking lot onto Michelson Drive while the worker jumped into another Caltrans vehicle that was parked nearby with a fellow employee inside. The pair called 911 shortly after 1:40 p.m. as they tailed the stolen truck across the city, Davies said.
Officers spotted the stolen truck and followed it to John Wayne Airport, where Baumle tried to drive it onto the second story of a parking structure near the departing terminals. But the truck was too tall, and it struck the top of the parking garage. Baumle put the truck in reverse and crashed into a police car, authorities said.
He eventually stopped, but remained in the truck for five minutes before surrendering to police. Baumle was arrested on suspicion of carjacking, theft of a vehicle and assault with a deadly weapon, Davies said.
He is being held at Orange County Jail in Santa Ana in lieu of $100,000 bail, according to arrest records.


latimes--2020-07-17--Happy 65th Birthday, Disneyland. I'm so glad you're closed

When Anaheim ’ s Disneyland Resort shuttered in March , it was such a rare occurrence that it put an exclamation point on our troubled times .
It also immediately gave us something to look forward to : Disneyland ’ s reopening .
How poetic if things had gone as planned just a month ago and Disneyland ’ s turnstiles had been unlocked Friday , on its 65th anniversary .
Such a moment would be the all-clear : Even if America and the world hadn ’ t yet rid itself of a highly contagious , deadly virus , we as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Things are OK .
It is safe to again gather in groups and play at sillier , more fantastical versions of ourselves , something about 19 million of us do every year .
Disneyland , however , will be closed on its 65th anniversary .
The last time I was at Disneyland was March 6 .
That was three days after my previous visit on March 3 .
Which was four days after my next previous visit on Feb. 28 .
For me and many Southern California residents , Disneyland is more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ where I go to write , to read , to reset .
It represents something between a living pop-art museum and an emotional retreat .
Mostly it ’ s an invitation to play , and when I play I ’ m calm .
Yet I would not be calm if I were inside Disneyland right now .
I am relieved that the state of California isn ’ t allowing Disneyland to open .
Opening a theme park — as Disney , Universal and others have done in Florida — in the midst of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ magical , an unintended pledge of allegiance to bullheaded politicians .
At the start of Disneyland ’ s birthday week , California Gov .
Gavin Newsom announced a retightening of statewide restrictions .
The city of Los Angeles , just under 30 miles from Sleeping Beauty Castle , stated we are at “ threat level orange ” for COVID-19 , a color-coded chart that pleads with residents to minimize contact with those we don ’ t live with and to avoid public , indoor spaces .
On Monday , the L.A. Unified School @ @ @ @ @ @ @ classrooms , stated schools would remain closed .
Next door in Disneyland ’ s home , Orange County ’ s Board of Education recommended the exact opposite .
Such discrepancies not only fuel confusion but also represent a lack of a cohesive plan to tackle one of the greatest health , financial and personal crises of our lifetimes .
In Florida , which is reported to have more cases of COVID-19 than just about every country in the world , Walt Disney World and its four theme parks are currently welcoming guests , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ largest competitor , Universal Orlando , did the same .
This despite the fact that essentially the rest of the world is currently off-limits to Americans — and vice versa — and Florida is now regularly described as the world ’ s COVID-19 hot spot .
What a small , contradictory , confused and messed-up world , after all .
For now , Disneyland isn ’ t reentering it .
I worry that the park — a place described as a symbol of “ reassurance ” by one of its early architects — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the full emotional healing so many of us crave .
Since March 14 , when Disneyland closed , I ’ ve been looking forward to the moment I could return .
I shed a tear when I watched Shanghai Disneyland open its gates on a Sunday evening in May L.A. time — the time difference allowing it to become prime-time viewing in America .
It was a sign of hope .
I ’ ve rewatched the parts of the Disney+ series “ The Imagineering Story ” that detail the reopening of Tokyo Disneyland @ @ @ @ @ @ @ earthquake , and how that event was a much-needed indication that the country was healing .
Yet I shed no tear this past week as I followed along with social media and news reports covering the reopening of Walt Disney World .
While I ’ m happy to hear my friends tell me mask compliance is relatively high and the inevitable bottlenecks that will occur when crowds of any size gather are relatively rare and can mostly be avoided , there ’ s too much discomfort — or coronavirus — in the air @ @ @ @ @ @ @ numbers , with new daily reported cases in the teens rather than the tens of thousands we ’ re experiencing in parts of America .
There are , to be sure , numerous scenes from Walt Disney World that have made me smile , especially those that show some artistic creativity in this climate .
Socially distanced character meet-and-greets actually seem like a better solution than the standard photo-ops , as they encourage costumed cast to act .
Winnie the Pooh frolicking in the Epcot grass attempting to catch butterflies is a better @ @ @ @ @ @ @ non-socially distant hug .
Likewise the random character processionals , which have replaced parades .
While just before shutdown Disneyland launched a sassy , invigorating new parade that likely won ’ t return until there is a vaccine , these impromptu character moments introduce a greater sense of spontaneity and life to the theme park experience .
But Disney can do everything right — the welcome prevalence of social distancing markers and vinyl partitions in lines and on rides serve as reminders to keep our distance — and the message would still be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more that we , as a people , are not .
As we look longingly at other countries that have managed to temper the spread and are thus closing their borders to our infected bodies , the extensive measures taken in our theme parks may ease some minds , but it fails to obscure the reality : Our woefully inadequate safety nets are forcing workers to the front lines of a virus war zone to be accessories to someone else ’ s day out .
It ’ s no wonder that Disney ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many the wrong way and became a thing of social media mockery .
A commercial of face-masked staffers cleaning areas of the parks was remixed and redubbed with horror film soundtracks and ominous voice-overs .
This couldn ’ t be what Disney marketers were hoping for .
In a time when we ’ re essentially encouraged to behave as if everyone around us has the coronavirus , I ’ m less concerned about Disney ’ s actions to protect me and am instead hyper-focused on others .
Did that person quickly pull down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ person leave the bathroom without washing their hands ?
Disney ’ s theme parks work because they present a narrative in a controlled environment .
But in 2020 the lack of a unified approach to a raging COVID-19 all but guarantees no single human or company is in control of the story line .
In an effort to avoid divisive commentary , we ’ re increasingly hearing that it ’ s a “ personal choice ” if someone wants to go to a restaurant or a theme park .
Yet our emphasis on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ got us here , and is in danger of making things worse as extended unemployment benefits start to disappear .
Since 1955 the Disney theme parks have done their best to reflect and distill American pop culture — the park , says its founder , is even dedicated to the “ hard facts ” that make up America — and that ’ s holding true now more than ever .
An open Walt Disney World , the most recognizable and popular theme park in the world , is a reflection of our country @ @ @ @ @ @ @ normalcy before managing a pandemic , complete with all the messy politics that entails .
“ John Hench used to say that Disneyland was reassuring , ” said the late , great , former Imagineering chief Marty Sklar of a longtime Imagineer who shaped Disney ’ s experiences .
“ You could speak to a stranger .
You feel safe .
You know you ’ re going to be respected .
Everything is clean .
It ’ s an example that you take back to your own community .
‘ Why can ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can ’ t we treat people like we get treated at the Disney parks ?
Why can ’ t our streets be as clean as it is at Disney ?
’ “ It ’ s reassuring because you know things work.
” Today , on the contrary , the difference between the masks-required haven of a theme park and the anything-goes , ‘ if you don ’ t like it , stay home ’ attitude beyond the park gates is too stark for such a philosophy to hold true .
Even the parks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ place for families — is currently at odds with itself .
Disney is a place for families , as long as no one in your family is older than 60 , or immunocompromised , or regularly comes in contact with anyone who is over 60 or immunocompromised .
A cliché has emerged over the last few weeks .
Most who have gone to Walt Disney World or Universal Orlando have reported they feel safer there than they do at their local grocery store .
But aside from that being the basic requirement of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feel safer than just about anywhere else — it also reveals some truly magical thinking : We ’ re becoming too comfortable with the idea that basic needs , such as buying produce , can put our life in danger .
Disney theme parks have always striven to show a more optimist , globalist future , be it the celebratory dolls of It ’ s a Small World , the crash-course in international travel that is Epcot ’ s World Showcase and even the recent uptick in multicultural events at Disney California Adventure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are pretty adept at metaphorically handling life lessons , but let us be careful to not throw up our hands and give into our president ’ s fantasy that the cure can not be worse than the disease itself .

When Anaheim’s Disneyland Resort shuttered in March, it was such a rare occurrence that it put an exclamation point on our troubled times. It also immediately gave us something to look forward to: Disneyland’s reopening.
How poetic if things had gone as planned just a month ago and Disneyland’s turnstiles had been unlocked Friday, on its 65th anniversary.
Such a moment would be the all-clear: Even if America and the world hadn’t yet rid itself of a highly contagious, deadly virus, we as a people and a country had endured. Things are OK. It is safe to again gather in groups and play at sillier, more fantastical versions of ourselves, something about 19 million of us do every year.
Disneyland, however, will be closed on its 65th anniversary.
The last time I was at Disneyland was March 6. That was three days after my previous visit on March 3. Which was four days after my next previous visit on Feb. 28. For me and many Southern California residents, Disneyland is more than a theme park; it is where I go to write, to read, to reset. It represents something between a living pop-art museum and an emotional retreat. Mostly it’s an invitation to play, and when I play I’m calm.
Yet I would not be calm if I were inside Disneyland right now. I am relieved that the state of California isn’t allowing Disneyland to open.
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Sleeping Beauty Castle last year received a brighter, more animated look. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
Opening a theme park — as Disney, Universal and others have done in Florida — in the midst of a surging pandemic feels more stubborn than magical, an unintended pledge of allegiance to bullheaded politicians.
At the start of Disneyland’s birthday week, California Gov. Gavin Newsom announced a retightening of statewide restrictions. The city of Los Angeles, just under 30 miles from Sleeping Beauty Castle, stated we are at “threat level orange” for COVID-19, a color-coded chart that pleads with residents to minimize contact with those we don’t live with and to avoid public, indoor spaces. On Monday, the L.A. Unified School District, despite federal pushes to open classrooms, stated schools would remain closed. Next door in Disneyland’s home, Orange County’s Board of Education recommended the exact opposite.
Such discrepancies not only fuel confusion but also represent a lack of a cohesive plan to tackle one of the greatest health, financial and personal crises of our lifetimes.
In Florida, which is reported to have more cases of COVID-19 than just about every country in the world, Walt Disney World and its four theme parks are currently welcoming guests, having opened about a month after its largest competitor, Universal Orlando, did the same. This despite the fact that essentially the rest of the world is currently off-limits to Americans — and vice versa — and Florida is now regularly described as the world’s COVID-19 hot spot.
What a small, contradictory, confused and messed-up world, after all.
Entertainment & Arts Coronavirus fallout: Why closing Disneyland is such a blow to American optimism The Happiest Place on Earth shut its gates Friday night due to the coronavirus crisis. A full non-weather-related closure of Disneyland has happened just three times in the park’s 65-year history. But this time is different.
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For now, Disneyland isn’t reentering it. I worry that the park — a place described as a symbol of “reassurance” by one of its early architects — wouldn’t be able to provide the full emotional healing so many of us crave.
Since March 14, when Disneyland closed, I’ve been looking forward to the moment I could return. I shed a tear when I watched Shanghai Disneyland open its gates on a Sunday evening in May L.A. time — the time difference allowing it to become prime-time viewing in America. It was a sign of hope. I’ve rewatched the parts of the Disney+ series “The Imagineering Story” that detail the reopening of Tokyo Disneyland after that nation’s devastating 2011 earthquake, and how that event was a much-needed indication that the country was healing.
Yet I shed no tear this past week as I followed along with social media and news reports covering the reopening of Walt Disney World. While I’m happy to hear my friends tell me mask compliance is relatively high and the inevitable bottlenecks that will occur when crowds of any size gather are relatively rare and can mostly be avoided, there’s too much discomfort — or coronavirus — in the air.
Shanghai Disneyland opened among dwindling COVID-19 numbers, with new daily reported cases in the teens rather than the tens of thousands we’re experiencing in parts of America. There are, to be sure, numerous scenes from Walt Disney World that have made me smile, especially those that show some artistic creativity in this climate.
Disneyland last year opened Galaxy’s Edge, a 14-acre expansion themed to “Star Wars.” (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
Socially distanced character meet-and-greets actually seem like a better solution than the standard photo-ops, as they encourage costumed cast to act. Winnie the Pooh frolicking in the Epcot grass attempting to catch butterflies is a better memory than standing in line for a non-socially distant hug. Likewise the random character processionals, which have replaced parades. While just before shutdown Disneyland launched a sassy, invigorating new parade that likely won’t return until there is a vaccine, these impromptu character moments introduce a greater sense of spontaneity and life to the theme park experience.
But Disney can do everything right — the welcome prevalence of social distancing markers and vinyl partitions in lines and on rides serve as reminders to keep our distance — and the message would still be less that the parks are safe and more that we, as a people, are not.
As we look longingly at other countries that have managed to temper the spread and are thus closing their borders to our infected bodies, the extensive measures taken in our theme parks may ease some minds, but it fails to obscure the reality: Our woefully inadequate safety nets are forcing workers to the front lines of a virus war zone to be accessories to someone else’s day out.
Advertisement
It’s no wonder that Disney’s media blitz this month rubbed so many the wrong way and became a thing of social media mockery. A commercial of face-masked staffers cleaning areas of the parks was remixed and redubbed with horror film soundtracks and ominous voice-overs. This couldn’t be what Disney marketers were hoping for.
In a time when we’re essentially encouraged to behave as if everyone around us has the coronavirus, I’m less concerned about Disney’s actions to protect me and am instead hyper-focused on others. Did that person quickly pull down their mask to talk? Did that person leave the bathroom without washing their hands?
Disney’s theme parks work because they present a narrative in a controlled environment. But in 2020 the lack of a unified approach to a raging COVID-19 all but guarantees no single human or company is in control of the story line. In an effort to avoid divisive commentary, we’re increasingly hearing that it’s a “personal choice” if someone wants to go to a restaurant or a theme park. Yet our emphasis on the individual over communal compassion is what got us here, and is in danger of making things worse as extended unemployment benefits start to disappear.
Since 1955 the Disney theme parks have done their best to reflect and distill American pop culture — the park, says its founder, is even dedicated to the “hard facts” that make up America — and that’s holding true now more than ever. An open Walt Disney World, the most recognizable and popular theme park in the world, is a reflection of our country’s stubborn desire to return to normalcy before managing a pandemic, complete with all the messy politics that entails.
The attractions at Pixar Pier in Disney California Adventure will have to remain quiet for bit longer yet. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
“John Hench used to say that Disneyland was reassuring,” said the late, great, former Imagineering chief Marty Sklar of a longtime Imagineer who shaped Disney’s experiences. “You could speak to a stranger. You feel safe. You know you’re going to be respected. Everything is clean. It’s an example that you take back to your own community. ‘Why can’t it be like this? Why can’t we treat people like we get treated at the Disney parks? Why can’t our streets be as clean as it is at Disney?’
“It’s reassuring because you know things work.”
Today, on the contrary, the difference between the masks-required haven of a theme park and the anything-goes, ‘if you don’t like it, stay home’ attitude beyond the park gates is too stark for such a philosophy to hold true. Even the parks’ core mission — this is a place for families — is currently at odds with itself. Disney is a place for families, as long as no one in your family is older than 60, or immunocompromised, or regularly comes in contact with anyone who is over 60 or immunocompromised.
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A cliché has emerged over the last few weeks. Most who have gone to Walt Disney World or Universal Orlando have reported they feel safer there than they do at their local grocery store. But aside from that being the basic requirement of a resort during any era — to feel safer than just about anywhere else — it also reveals some truly magical thinking: We’re becoming too comfortable with the idea that basic needs, such as buying produce, can put our life in danger.
Disney theme parks have always striven to show a more optimist, globalist future, be it the celebratory dolls of It’s a Small World, the crash-course in international travel that is Epcot’s World Showcase and even the recent uptick in multicultural events at Disney California Adventure. Fairy tales, of course, are pretty adept at metaphorically handling life lessons, but let us be careful to not throw up our hands and give into our president’s fantasy that the cure cannot be worse than the disease itself.


latimes--2020-07-17--She was known as a 'top shot.' Now an L.A. cop is at the center of a deadly shooting

Just 23 years old and near the start of her life in law enforcement , Toni McBride brimmed with youthful exuberance .
A slew of online videos show the Los Angeles Police Department officer blasting away at targets , with prize-winning speed and accuracy , on a gun range in the Simi Valley foothills .
McBride , an officer in LAPD ’ s Newton Division , fired an array of shotguns , pistols and assault rifles .
She cavorted and strutted , sometimes within view of Hollywood glitterati , who used the same firing range to hone the gunplay they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ When star Keanu Reeves shouted out to her LAPD division in one video , the young cop laughed with delight .
“ Hey , he knows !
, ” she said , clapping .
“ Shootin ’ Newton !
” But less than two weeks after the posting of that video , McBride ’ s gun use turned deadly earnest .
In the middle of a scruffy street south of downtown on April 22 , she faced off with a man holding a razor box cutter .
She fired six shots from her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ every round and killing the 38-year-old carpet installer and father of a teenage daughter .
Though Hernandez ’ s family quickly protested that McBride used excessive force , the incident gained wider attention only a month later , after the killing of George Floyd provoked a national furor over police behavior .
Now Hernandez ’ s death has become a cause celebre , protested by Black Lives Matter and questioned by a candidate for district attorney .
McBride ’ s supporters defend her as an officer trying to protect herself and the public @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s family and their lawyers say the shooting epitomizes the blind use of force that has haunted Black and Latino communities for generations .
“ Do we want police officers to be gunslingers , or to live up to the LAPD motto , ‘ to protect and to serve ’ ?
” said Arnoldo Casillas , an attorney representing the Hernandez family .
Police use-of-force expert Ed Obayashi defended McBride as an officer doing her job , in what he called “ a clear-cut justified shooting.
” Obayashi said he was persuaded after @ @ @ @ @ @ @ There is absolutely no doubt in my mind , ” he said , “ this officer was facing an immediate threat to her life.
” McBride and her actions have provoked intense discussion partly because of her lineage .
Her father , Jamie , is one of nine directors of the LAPD ’ s powerful labor union and was involved in six shootings during his first 11 years on the job .
Loyalists say the younger McBride shouldn ’ t be judged by the acts of her father , good or bad .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ attorney candidate George Gascon , say the elder McBride ’ s influence will make it hard for the Hernandez family to get a fair hearing .
They have called for the state attorney general ’ s office to step into the investigation .
But police experienced with local procedure say the city ’ s system for reviewing deadly force promises to be painstaking , involving the department ’ s Force Investigation Division , the independent Inspector General , Chief of Police Michel Moore , the civilian Police Commission and the district attorney ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a year .
McBride , now back on regular patrol duty , has been immersed in a world of policing since her childhood growing up in Ventura County , where she would dress up in her dad ’ s uniform .
She entered the Police Academy at 20 and became “ top shot ” in her class , according to a doting cover profile in The Blue Press , a catalog for a firearms ammunition company .
She later practiced her shooting at Taran Tactical Innovations , a Simi Valley shooting range and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Butler crams his company ’ s social media channels with videos of uber-fit models and actresses shooting at dummies and other targets .
Usually they race against a stopwatch .
“ That ’ s what I ’ m known for , ” Butler told Los Angeles magazine .
“ Beautiful girls who shoot as good as they look.
” McBride ’ s appearances with celebrities such as Reeves and former Lakers star Rick Fox attracted scores of fanboys , who showered her with an online marriage proposal and compliments about her “ # @ @ @ @ @ @ @ McBride the “ # HottestCopEver.
” But the Hernandez family contends that the frothy , rapid-fire videos exhibit a kind of gun use not consistent with LAPD policy , requiring measured and deliberate force .
Butler did not return a phone call requesting comment for this article .
Attorney Larry Hanna said his client , McBride , behaved admirably in a complex and fast-evolving scene that led to the confrontation with Hernandez .
Video from the scene records McBride ’ s multiple orders to Hernandez to desist and to drop the knife .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ one that Hernandez carried for his carpet installation work , his family said . )
She hewed closely to her LAPD training and can be seen on video , Hanna said , “ doing everything she can to deescalate this situation.
” Central in the review of the episode will be video , both from McBride ’ s body camera and from the mobile phones of two civilians .
The recordings reveal a chaotic scene early on the evening of April 22 , in the middle of San Pedro Street near East 32nd @ @ @ @ @ @ @ north up the busy street in a black pickup , crashing into another car and unleashing a five-vehicle chain reaction .
A coroner ’ s autopsy would later show that Hernandez had methamphetamine in his system .
Witnesses said he rejected any assistance and appeared to be cutting himself in the cab of his truck .
( A medical examiner later noted cut marks on Hernandez ’ s forearms . )
In the roughly 75 seconds from the time she stepped out of her patrol car until she fired her first shot , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ information : dispatch reports from a police operator , shouts of some of the dozens of bystanders and a report that the pickup driver was trying to hurt himself .
McBride quickly requested backup .
She called out to her partner , “ Do we have less-lethal ?
” Police squad cars are outfitted with bean bag shotguns or foam projectile launchers .
McBride ’ s query about alternative weapons apparently went unanswered .
Over the course of roughly 15 seconds , she tried to deter Hernandez with a series of seven voice @ @ @ @ @ @ @ see your hands !
” then , “ Stay right there !
” Then , three times : “ Drop the knife !
” Hernandez kept moving slowly toward her , throwing both arms out from his sides .
McBride commanded , “ Drop it !
” a final time , a split second before firing two shots .
Hernandez keeled forward to the asphalt , but quickly pushed himself up and forward .
McBride fired two more rounds , then the final two as Hernandez rolled on the ground .
McBride ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ analyzed , shot by shot .
The LAPD ’ s use-of-force policy says the officer ’ s judgment will be assessed “ from the perspective of a reasonable Los Angeles police officer with similar training and experience , in the same situation.
” An officer must reasonably believe he or she needed to use deadly force “ to defend against an imminent threat of death or serious bodily injury to the officer or to another person.
” Hernandez ’ s parents and 14-year-old daughter argue , through their attorneys , that McBride could @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
She might , for example , have stepped behind a bystander ’ s car to buy time , they say .
They contend that she responded like the competitive shooter seen on video , racing to get off shots .
“ She loves to shoot all these things as fast as she can , ” said Casillas , the lawyer for Hernandez ’ s family .
“ That certainly is in stark contrast to the measured , cautious police officer , exhibiting a reverence for life .
This isn ’ t a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s lawyer , counters that the officer had little choice , faced off against an oncoming man with a weapon , who posed an imminent threat .
He added that McBride worked hard to master all aspects of her training , including deescalation techniques , threat assessment and shooting skills .
“ She had fear at all times and was shooting at somebody she felt was coming at her and ... toward the other citizens who were out there , ” Hanna said , calling arguments to the contrary “ playing politics.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had scarcely faded when a debate about the shooting began along the garbage-strewn stretch of San Pedro Street where Hernandez died .
A bystander shot video of the confrontation , broadcasting it live on Facebook .
“ They didn ’ t have to shoot !
” one man says in Spanish to the videographer , who retorts : “ No , they did .
He had a knife .
He was walking toward her.
” The shooting felt unnecessary to some of the people living in motor homes and trailers along San Pedro @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said he briefly talked to Hernandez just after his smashed car came to a stop .
He saw the box cutter Hernandez was carrying and thought it was not dangerous .
Yolanda Madison , 56 , said she also talked to Hernandez as he exited his pickup truck .
“ I told him to surrender or they were going to shoot him , ” Madison said .
“ Did they have to shoot him six times ?
Did they have to shoot him while he was down ?
” Espinoza asked .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dead .
That ’ s what we are to the police , dead meat.
” Obayashi , the use-of-force advisor to a statewide association of police training officers , called Hernandez ’ s actions — advancing toward the officer and then springing upward , even after being shot — “ violently aggressive.
” He said McBride had no choice but to “ end the threat ” when Hernandez lurched forward , even after being shot twice .
Their brief encounter on the streets of Los Angeles would resonate months later , especially for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Eleven years earlier , Hernandez had been at home when he claimed to have inadvertently sprayed an LAPD officer with a garden hose .
The officer had arrived to question the family for drinking in public , on their front porch .
Officers pepper-sprayed him , dragged him to a children ’ s swimming pool and forced his head into the water , according to a lawsuit filed by Hernandez .
When he said he couldn ’ t breathe , the officers allegedly laughed and dunked his head again .
Hernandez had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ home , living with his parents and working in the family ’ s flooring business .
He had been talking excitedly about the grand quinceanera celebration he planned to mark his daughter ’ s 15th birthday later this year .
“ He lived for her , ” said the girl ’ s mother , Claudia Sugey Chavez .
Shooting incidents are stomach-churning events for all officers , McBride ’ s lawyer said .
For her , the April 22 incident “ has been very hard ” and one she hopes she will never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to being a police officer , to “ help people who can ’ t help themselves , ” has not wavered , Hanna said .
Since the shooting , McBride has taken down Instagram posts that had attracted nearly 47,000 followers .
In one of the postings still visible on web archives , McBride says : “ I can honestly say that I absolutely love my job and can ’ t see myself doing anything else .
”

LAPD Officer Toni McBride made the June cover of Blue Press, a magazine popular with police and fans of shooting and firearms.
Just 23 years old and near the start of her life in law enforcement, Toni McBride brimmed with youthful exuberance. A slew of online videos show the Los Angeles Police Department officer blasting away at targets, with prize-winning speed and accuracy, on a gun range in the Simi Valley foothills.
McBride, an officer in LAPD’s Newton Division, fired an array of shotguns, pistols and assault rifles. She cavorted and strutted, sometimes within view of Hollywood glitterati, who used the same firing range to hone the gunplay they would use for movies and TV. When star Keanu Reeves shouted out to her LAPD division in one video, the young cop laughed with delight. “Hey, he knows!” she said, clapping. “Shootin’ Newton!”
But less than two weeks after the posting of that video, McBride’s gun use turned deadly earnest.
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In the middle of a scruffy street south of downtown on April 22, she faced off with a man holding a razor box cutter. She fired six shots from her Glock 17, hitting Daniel Hernandez with every round and killing the 38-year-old carpet installer and father of a teenage daughter.
Undated photo of Daniel Hernandez with his daughter Melanie. Hernandez died in an LAPD shooting on April 22. (Hernandez family)
Though Hernandez’s family quickly protested that McBride used excessive force, the incident gained wider attention only a month later, after the killing of George Floyd provoked a national furor over police behavior. Now Hernandez’s death has become a cause celebre, protested by Black Lives Matter and questioned by a candidate for district attorney.
McBride’s supporters defend her as an officer trying to protect herself and the public from a dangerous man. Hernandez’s family and their lawyers say the shooting epitomizes the blind use of force that has haunted Black and Latino communities for generations.
“Do we want police officers to be gunslingers, or to live up to the LAPD motto, ‘to protect and to serve’?” said Arnoldo Casillas, an attorney representing the Hernandez family.
Police use-of-force expert Ed Obayashi defended McBride as an officer doing her job, in what he called “a clear-cut justified shooting.” Obayashi said he was persuaded after watching video of the incident. “There is absolutely no doubt in my mind,” he said, “this officer was facing an immediate threat to her life.”
McBride and her actions have provoked intense discussion partly because of her lineage. Her father, Jamie, is one of nine directors of the LAPD’s powerful labor union and was involved in six shootings during his first 11 years on the job.
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Loyalists say the younger McBride shouldn’t be judged by the acts of her father, good or bad. Critics, including Los Angeles County district attorney candidate George Gascon, say the elder McBride’s influence will make it hard for the Hernandez family to get a fair hearing. They have called for the state attorney general’s office to step into the investigation.
But police experienced with local procedure say the city’s system for reviewing deadly force promises to be painstaking, involving the department’s Force Investigation Division, the independent Inspector General, Chief of Police Michel Moore, the civilian Police Commission and the district attorney’s office. Those reviews could take a year.
McBride, now back on regular patrol duty, has been immersed in a world of policing since her childhood growing up in Ventura County, where she would dress up in her dad’s uniform. She entered the Police Academy at 20 and became “top shot” in her class, according to a doting cover profile in The Blue Press, a catalog for a firearms ammunition company.
She later practiced her shooting at Taran Tactical Innovations, a Simi Valley shooting range and gun outlet owned by Taran Butler. Butler crams his company’s social media channels with videos of uber-fit models and actresses shooting at dummies and other targets. Usually they race against a stopwatch.
“That’s what I’m known for,” Butler told Los Angeles magazine. “Beautiful girls who shoot as good as they look.”
McBride’s appearances with celebrities such as Reeves and former Lakers star Rick Fox attracted scores of fanboys, who showered her with an online marriage proposal and compliments about her “#badass” ways. One follower deemed McBride the “#HottestCopEver.”
But the Hernandez family contends that the frothy, rapid-fire videos exhibit a kind of gun use not consistent with LAPD policy, requiring measured and deliberate force.
Butler did not return a phone call requesting comment for this article. Attorney Larry Hanna said his client, McBride, behaved admirably in a complex and fast-evolving scene that led to the confrontation with Hernandez.
Video from the scene records McBride’s multiple orders to Hernandez to desist and to drop the knife. (Actually a razor cutter like the one that Hernandez carried for his carpet installation work, his family said.) She hewed closely to her LAPD training and can be seen on video, Hanna said, “doing everything she can to deescalate this situation.”
Central in the review of the episode will be video, both from McBride’s body camera and from the mobile phones of two civilians.
The recordings reveal a chaotic scene early on the evening of April 22, in the middle of San Pedro Street near East 32nd Street. Witnesses recalled that Hernandez sped north up the busy street in a black pickup, crashing into another car and unleashing a five-vehicle chain reaction.
A coroner’s autopsy would later show that Hernandez had methamphetamine in his system. Witnesses said he rejected any assistance and appeared to be cutting himself in the cab of his truck. (A medical examiner later noted cut marks on Hernandez’s forearms.)
In the roughly 75 seconds from the time she stepped out of her patrol car until she fired her first shot, McBride had to process a multitude of information: dispatch reports from a police operator, shouts of some of the dozens of bystanders and a report that the pickup driver was trying to hurt himself.
McBride quickly requested backup. She called out to her partner, “Do we have less-lethal?” Police squad cars are outfitted with bean bag shotguns or foam projectile launchers. McBride’s query about alternative weapons apparently went unanswered.
Over the course of roughly 15 seconds, she tried to deter Hernandez with a series of seven voice commands, first, “Let me see your hands!” then, “Stay right there!” Then, three times: “Drop the knife!”
Hernandez kept moving slowly toward her, throwing both arms out from his sides. McBride commanded, “Drop it!” a final time, a split second before firing two shots. Hernandez keeled forward to the asphalt, but quickly pushed himself up and forward. McBride fired two more rounds, then the final two as Hernandez rolled on the ground.
McBride’s decision-making will be broken down and analyzed, shot by shot. The LAPD’s use-of-force policy says the officer’s judgment will be assessed “from the perspective of a reasonable Los Angeles police officer with similar training and experience, in the same situation.”
An officer must reasonably believe he or she needed to use deadly force “to defend against an imminent threat of death or serious bodily injury to the officer or to another person.”
Hernandez’s parents and 14-year-old daughter argue, through their attorneys, that McBride could have done more to deescalate the confrontation. She might, for example, have stepped behind a bystander’s car to buy time, they say. They contend that she responded like the competitive shooter seen on video, racing to get off shots.
“She loves to shoot all these things as fast as she can,” said Casillas, the lawyer for Hernandez’s family. “That certainly is in stark contrast to the measured, cautious police officer, exhibiting a reverence for life. This isn’t a movie.”
But Hanna, McBride’s lawyer, counters that the officer had little choice, faced off against an oncoming man with a weapon, who posed an imminent threat. He added that McBride worked hard to master all aspects of her training, including deescalation techniques, threat assessment and shooting skills.
“She had fear at all times and was shooting at somebody she felt was coming at her and ... toward the other citizens who were out there,” Hanna said, calling arguments to the contrary “playing politics.”
The echo of McBride’s shots had scarcely faded when a debate about the shooting began along the garbage-strewn stretch of San Pedro Street where Hernandez died.
A bystander shot video of the confrontation, broadcasting it live on Facebook. “They didn’t have to shoot!” one man says in Spanish to the videographer, who retorts: “No, they did. He had a knife. He was walking toward her.”
The shooting felt unnecessary to some of the people living in motor homes and trailers along San Pedro Street.
Israel Espinoza, 75, said he briefly talked to Hernandez just after his smashed car came to a stop. He saw the box cutter Hernandez was carrying and thought it was not dangerous.
Yolanda Madison, 56, said she also talked to Hernandez as he exited his pickup truck. “I told him to surrender or they were going to shoot him,” Madison said.
“Did they have to shoot him six times? Did they have to shoot him while he was down?” Espinoza asked. “They even cuffed him after he was dead. That’s what we are to the police, dead meat.”
Obayashi, the use-of-force advisor to a statewide association of police training officers, called Hernandez’s actions — advancing toward the officer and then springing upward, even after being shot — “violently aggressive.” He said McBride had no choice but to “end the threat” when Hernandez lurched forward, even after being shot twice.
Their brief encounter on the streets of Los Angeles would resonate months later, especially for McBride and for Hernandez’s family.
Eleven years earlier, Hernandez had been at home when he claimed to have inadvertently sprayed an LAPD officer with a garden hose. The officer had arrived to question the family for drinking in public, on their front porch.
Officers pepper-sprayed him, dragged him to a children’s swimming pool and forced his head into the water, according to a lawsuit filed by Hernandez. When he said he couldn’t breathe, the officers allegedly laughed and dunked his head again.
The lawsuit was dismissed.
Hernandez had remained at the same South Los Angeles home, living with his parents and working in the family’s flooring business. He had been talking excitedly about the grand quinceanera celebration he planned to mark his daughter’s 15th birthday later this year. “He lived for her,” said the girl’s mother, Claudia Sugey Chavez.
Shooting incidents are stomach-churning events for all officers, McBride’s lawyer said. For her, the April 22 incident “has been very hard” and one she hopes she will never have to repeat. But her commitment to being a police officer, to “help people who can’t help themselves,” has not wavered, Hanna said.
Since the shooting, McBride has taken down Instagram posts that had attracted nearly 47,000 followers. In one of the postings still visible on web archives, McBride says: “I can honestly say that I absolutely love my job and can’t see myself doing anything else.”


latimes--2020-07-17--In Imperial County, medical air teams work around the clock to move COVID-19 patients

The medical flight crew of Mercy Air was getting ready for bed when they got their first call of the day .
A stroke patient had to be transported from El Centro Regional Medical Center to UC San Diego Medical Center in Hillcrest .
Michael Bobeck , an army vet and pilot on duty , began a routine assessment of the flight risks .
The twin-engine helicopter had enough fuel for the 174-mile round trip .
Oxygen tanks were full .
Fog was expected to move over San Diego County but not for another four to five hours .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” he said .
“ So we decided to go for it.
” Less than 13 minutes after taking the call Sunday night , Bobeck and the flight crew — a nurse and paramedic — flew 10 miles south from the Mercy Air base at Imperial County Airport to El Centro .
Up until then , it had been an unusually quiet day for the crew .
Even the call was a break from months of transporting COVID-19 patients out of Imperial County , a rural and impoverished region with a largely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has become a hotspot for the disease .
The county has been averaging 900 infections per 100,000 people in the last two weeks , compared with L.A. County ’ s 371 .
The county also has the highest mortality rate in the state , averaging 28 deaths per 100,000 people .
The rate in Los Angeles County is just over five deaths per 100,000 people ; in California as a whole it is almost 19 per 100,000 .
County health officials link the increase of infection rates to May when the large industrial @ @ @ @ @ @ @ COVID-19 patients , forcing U.S. citizens living there to cross the border into Imperial County and seek care .
The county ’ s two hospitals — El Centro Regional Medical Center and Pioneers Memorial Healthcare District — were already dealing with an influx of COVID-19 patients that officials say was due to recent holiday gatherings .
On May 19 , Dr. Adolphe Edward , chief executive of El Centro Regional Medical Center , said his hospital would stop receiving COVID-19 patients .
“ Our numbers skyrocketed overnight , ” he said .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t overwhelm either one of the hospitals or the system with COVID-19 patients to the point that we can ’ t take care of you.
” Soon afterward , hospitals began stabilizing COVID-19 patients and moving them out of Imperial County .
State officials said at least 500 COVID-19 patients were taken to hospitals outside the county .
Answering the call that month was Mercy Air , one of two air medical companies serving the area .
The company is owned and operated by Air Methods , one of the largest air @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It operates 300 bases in 48 states , many of them located in California and Nevada .
For more than two decades , Mercy Air was providing service to Imperial County from its bases in San Diego and Riverside County .
But two years ago , it decided to set up a base at Imperial County Airport .
“ One of our objectives , our focus is to bring our services to underserved communities where there ’ s a big distance between the patient and the level of care they need , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Air and Air Methods , said .
“ You ’ ve heard of the ‘ golden hour ?
’ You know , if somebody is in a car accident that first hour is the most important time frame.
” Mercy Air was working on completing construction of a new base at the airport when the pandemic brought everything to a halt .
For now , the teams of pilots , critical care nurses and paramedics have been working out of a hotel about 300 feet from the airport .
Hinton said aircraft from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to help deal with the high volume of transport requests by the two hospitals in Imperial County .
Medic teams with Mercy Air typically respond to car accidents and other emergencies near the border , state parks and the Imperial Sand Dunes , a popular site for off-roading enthusiasts .
They get steady work from patients who need to receive advance care from hospitals elsewhere , such as in San Diego .
Derek Hughes , a paramedic for Mercy Air , said average patient transports were at least two a day .
But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and by spring it had doubled .
Hinton said finding beds in nearby hospitals started to become increasingly difficult .
“ We started seeing transports go out to Riverside , Las Vegas and Phoenix , ” he said .
“ The farthest north we ’ ve gone by helicopter was Santa Barbara.
” “ They ’ ve been all over the place right now , even to hospitals we ’ ve never transported patients to before , ” he added .
Mercy Air officials say since March they have taken nearly 100 Covid-19 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said flights out of county average between four to five hours and in some cases up to six .
He said the number of patient transports are lower than other bases in the surrounding area because of the long distance they have to fly .
“ More than two [ transports ] is almost too much , ” he said .
Hughes said that although Mercy Air workers wear protective suits and personal protective gear for each call , the long flights present an added risk because they are with the patients for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said the high altitude poses a health risk for patients as well .
Before a transport request is accepted the crew has to weigh the risks .
As a pilot , Bobeck looks at weather , distance and refueling points .
Time , too .
The FAA has strict rules about how long a pilot can work ; the maximum is about 14 hours a day .
For the medic team , they have to take a patient ’ s medications and oxygen intake into account .
COVID-19 patients , Hughes said , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when the number of transports jumped in May , the team was working almost nonstop .
“ I was flying almost every day , ” Bobeck said .
The Sunday night call about the stroke patient was what the crew members were used to dealing with before the pandemic arrived .
They didn ’ t require protection suits , and the round-trip flight would be about four hours total .
It was a little after 10 p.m. when the Mercy Air helicopter flew over the neighborhoods near El Centro Regional Medical Center .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the distance as the chopper approached the facility .
At 10:04. , the helicopter sat on the helipad .
Bobeck took a walk around the aircraft , making sure everything was OK .
Inside , the medic team waited for paperwork and got the patient ready to go .
By 10:32 p.m. the patient was aboard .
Then helicopter lifted off and headed for UC San Diego Medical Center in Hillcrest .
It would be around 1 a.m. when the crew would return to the base .
Each member , slowly walked back @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had ended .
But the COVID-19 pandemic is surging , and there are surely many more flights ahead .

The medical flight crew of Mercy Air was getting ready for bed when they got their first call of the day. A stroke patient had to be transported from El Centro Regional Medical Center to UC San Diego Medical Center in Hillcrest.
Michael Bobeck, an army vet and pilot on duty, began a routine assessment of the flight risks. The twin-engine helicopter had enough fuel for the 174-mile round trip. Oxygen tanks were full. Fog was expected to move over San Diego County but not for another four to five hours.
“The risk was low to low medium,” he said. “So we decided to go for it.”
Mercy Air helicopter ambulance pilot Michael Bobeck prepares for a flight at Imperial County Airport. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Less than 13 minutes after taking the call Sunday night, Bobeck and the flight crew — a nurse and paramedic — flew 10 miles south from the Mercy Air base at Imperial County Airport to El Centro.
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Up until then, it had been an unusually quiet day for the crew. Even the call was a break from months of transporting COVID-19 patients out of Imperial County, a rural and impoverished region with a largely Latino population of about 180,000 people that has become a hotspot for the disease.
The county has been averaging 900 infections per 100,000 people in the last two weeks, compared with L.A. County’s 371. The county also has the highest mortality rate in the state, averaging 28 deaths per 100,000 people. The rate in Los Angeles County is just over five deaths per 100,000 people; in California as a whole it is almost 19 per 100,000.
County health officials link the increase of infection rates to May when the large industrial Mexican border city of Mexicali stopped receiving COVID-19 patients, forcing U.S. citizens living there to cross the border into Imperial County and seek care.
Pilot Michael Bobeck, right, begins his 12-hour work shift by meeting with the on-duty paramedic and nurse for Mercy Air. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
The county’s two hospitals — El Centro Regional Medical Center and Pioneers Memorial Healthcare District — were already dealing with an influx of COVID-19 patients that officials say was due to recent holiday gatherings.
On May 19, Dr. Adolphe Edward, chief executive of El Centro Regional Medical Center, said his hospital would stop receiving COVID-19 patients.
“Our numbers skyrocketed overnight,” he said. “We want to make sure we don’t overwhelm either one of the hospitals or the system with COVID-19 patients to the point that we can’t take care of you.”
Soon afterward, hospitals began stabilizing COVID-19 patients and moving them out of Imperial County. State officials said at least 500 COVID-19 patients were taken to hospitals outside the county.
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Michael Bobeck checks the fuel of the Mercy Air ambulance helicopter he will be piloting for the night. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Answering the call that month was Mercy Air, one of two air medical companies serving the area.
The company is owned and operated by Air Methods, one of the largest air medical transport companies in the U.S. It operates 300 bases in 48 states, many of them located in California and Nevada.
For more than two decades, Mercy Air was providing service to Imperial County from its bases in San Diego and Riverside County. But two years ago, it decided to set up a base at Imperial County Airport.
“One of our objectives, our focus is to bring our services to underserved communities where there’s a big distance between the patient and the level of care they need,” Bill Hinton, area manager for Mercy Air and Air Methods, said. “You’ve heard of the ‘golden hour?’ You know, if somebody is in a car accident that first hour is the most important time frame.”
A nurse and paramedic check supplies and equipment at the start of their work shift with Mercy Air at Imperial County Airport. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Mercy Air was working on completing construction of a new base at the airport when the pandemic brought everything to a halt. For now, the teams of pilots, critical care nurses and paramedics have been working out of a hotel about 300 feet from the airport.
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Hinton said aircraft from the surrounding bases have been brought in to help deal with the high volume of transport requests by the two hospitals in Imperial County.
Medic teams with Mercy Air typically respond to car accidents and other emergencies near the border, state parks and the Imperial Sand Dunes, a popular site for off-roading enthusiasts. They get steady work from patients who need to receive advance care from hospitals elsewhere, such as in San Diego.
“Then COVID-19 hit,” Hinton said.
Mercy Air helicopter pilot Michael Bobeck adjusts his night-vision goggles. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Derek Hughes, a paramedic for Mercy Air, said average patient transports were at least two a day. But that slowly began to go up, and by spring it had doubled.
Hinton said finding beds in nearby hospitals started to become increasingly difficult.
“We started seeing transports go out to Riverside, Las Vegas and Phoenix,” he said. “The farthest north we’ve gone by helicopter was Santa Barbara.”
“They’ve been all over the place right now, even to hospitals we’ve never transported patients to before,” he added.
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Mercy Air officials say since March they have taken nearly 100 Covid-19 patients out of Imperial County.
A Mercy Air helicopter ambulance lands at El Centro Regional Hospital to pick up a patient for transport. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Bobeck said flights out of county average between four to five hours and in some cases up to six. He said the number of patient transports are lower than other bases in the surrounding area because of the long distance they have to fly.
“More than two [transports] is almost too much,” he said.
Hughes said that although Mercy Air workers wear protective suits and personal protective gear for each call, the long flights present an added risk because they are with the patients for a longer period of time. They said the high altitude poses a health risk for patients as well.
Before a transport request is accepted the crew has to weigh the risks. As a pilot, Bobeck looks at weather, distance and refueling points. Time, too. The FAA has strict rules about how long a pilot can work; the maximum is about 14 hours a day.
Mercy Air crew members talk at the air ambulance base at Imperial County Airport. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
For the medic team, they have to take a patient’s medications and oxygen intake into account. COVID-19 patients, Hughes said, require a lot of oxygen.
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So when the number of transports jumped in May, the team was working almost nonstop.
“I was flying almost every day,” Bobeck said.
The Sunday night call about the stroke patient was what the crew members were used to dealing with before the pandemic arrived. They didn’t require protection suits, and the round-trip flight would be about four hours total.
It was a little after 10 p.m. when the Mercy Air helicopter flew over the neighborhoods near El Centro Regional Medical Center. Its rotors sounded like a jackhammer in the distance as the chopper approached the facility.
At 10:04., the helicopter sat on the helipad. Bobeck took a walk around the aircraft, making sure everything was OK.
Inside, the medic team waited for paperwork and got the patient ready to go. By 10:32 p.m. the patient was aboard. Then helicopter lifted off and headed for UC San Diego Medical Center in Hillcrest.
It would be around 1 a.m. when the crew would return to the base. Each member, slowly walked back to their hotel rooms.
Another shift had ended. But the COVID-19 pandemic is surging, and there are surely many more flights ahead.


latimes--2020-07-17--Yuki Llewellyn, a child of Manzanar whose image touched America, dies at 80

Sitting on a suitcase in Union Station , waiting to be hauled off to Manzanar with her mom , Yuki Okinaga Hayakawa was the very picture of uncertainty .
The look on the 2-year-old ’ s face is difficult to read , though dread comes to mind .
She clutches a tiny purse in one hand , and a half-eaten apple in the other .
Ahead were years behind barbed wire fencing in the Owens Valley along with thousands of other people of Japanese descent as America was pulled into World War II .
The photograph is hard to miss @ @ @ @ @ @ @ National Historic Site and seems to beg the same questions from visitors : Who was this child ?
What happened to her ?
Yuki and her mother were among the first to arrive and the last to leave Manzanar when the war ended , and moved to Cleveland to start anew .
She was taunted and subjected to racial slurs at school , but remained remarkably buoyant .
She won a college scholarship , earned a bachelor ’ s degree and ultimately a master ’ s in fine arts .
She married , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dean , wrote a cookbook and developed a dry sense of humor with spot-on timing when she told a joke , which was frequently .
Though the photo of her sitting in the train station became iconic — appearing on book covers , billboards and displayed at exhibits — her death on March 8 went little noticed .
The COVID-19 pandemic prevented her family from having a memorial , and no public announcement was made .
She was 80 and had been ill for some time , her friend Carol Norcross said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ uprooted , imprisoned and left with uncertain futures , the memories of Manzanar were seared into Yuki Okinaga Hayakawa Llewellyn ’ s soul .
She did research on the incarceration camp , wrestled with what it meant to be a Japanese American and shuddered at the thought that such a thing might someday happen again .
“ People you elect into power are the ones that are able to do things like that , ” she told author and photographer Paul Kitagaki Jr. in his book “ Behind Barbed Wire.
” But I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the young people are voting , and that saddens me .
That ’ s the only way you can control what ’ s going to happen.
” In 2005 , Llewellyn returned to Manzanar for the first time since childhood .
For years the prison camp had been left to the elements and the scavengers , until all that remained were a pair of sentry towers and a cemetery .
Manzanar was eventually proclaimed a national historic site and a visitor ’ s center and other features were added .
It is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ emblem of racial hysteria .
Llewellyn was initially torn about reopening the old wounds of Manzanar , said Norcross , who drove her friend up Highway 395 for the visit .
But when she got there , there was little left of what she remembered .
“ There was nothing for her to really hang her thoughts or emotions on , ” Norcross said .
“ There was nothing to say ‘ I was here.
’ ” In a commentary published in the Pacific Citizen in 2005 , Llewellyn said she gathered some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ barracks and a random piece of bamboo as mementos , tucking them carefully into a sandwich bag .
As she stood there , she said she finally understood why her mother had no interest in revisiting Manzanar .
“ As an adult , it would have been hell on Earth , ” she wrote .
“ I was lucky to have been a child — a young child at that — I didn ’ t know what it was like not to be incarcerated.
” Her son David said as word got out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ began coming up to her and apologizing for what the country had done .
Some hugged her .
“ Many were probably just kids like her at the time who couldn ’ t believe that we had done such a shameful thing , ” he said .
Llewellyn met her husband , Don , while working on her thesis at Tulane University in New Orleans .
The two later worked together on a theatrical production of Akira Kurosawa ’ s psychological thriller “ Rashomon.
” They later divorced , but remained friends .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , where she rose from being a secretary to assistant dean of students , Llewellyn explored her ancestry and her own past .
She brought noted Japanese Americans to speak at the university , celebrated when the campus opened an Asian American cultural center and spoke out about Manzanar and Executive Order 9066 , which set the wheels in motion for the creation of the internment camps following the bombing at Pearl Harbor .
In her research , Llewellyn discovered that her father , who had left her mother before the two were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ detained at the camp .
Among the thousands of other prisoners at the camp , she had never seen him .
Later in life , when she tried to find him , she discovered he was already dead .
At Manzanar , Llewellyn gazed at the childhood photo and the memories came tumbling back .
“ The happiest moment is the fact that I did discover something that I have been looking for all my life , ” she wrote in the commentary .
“ The closure will be if I can write @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her son , her daughter-in-law and three grandchildren .

Two-year-old Yuki Okinaga Hayakawa waits at Union Station for a train that will take her and her mother to Manzanar.
Sitting on a suitcase in Union Station, waiting to be hauled off to Manzanar with her mom, Yuki Okinaga Hayakawa was the very picture of uncertainty.
The look on the 2-year-old’s face is difficult to read, though dread comes to mind. She clutches a tiny purse in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. Ahead lay years behind barbed wire fencing in the Owens Valley along with thousands of other people of Japanese descent as America was pulled into World War II.
The photograph is hard to miss in the visitors center at the Manzanar National Historic Site and seems to beg the same questions from visitors: Who was this child? What happened to her?
Yuki and her mother were among the first to arrive and the last to leave Manzanar when the war ended, when they moved to Cleveland to start anew. She was taunted and subjected to racial slurs at school but remained remarkably buoyant. She won a college scholarship, earned a bachelor’s degree and ultimately a master’s in fine arts. She married, had a son, became a college administrator, wrote a cookbook and developed a dry sense of humor with spot-on timing when she told a joke, which was frequently.
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Though the photo of her sitting in the train station became iconic — appearing on book covers, billboards and displayed at exhibits — her death on March 8 was little noticed. The COVID-19 pandemic prevented her family from having a memorial, and no public announcement was made. Unwilling to let her death go unrecognized, a family friend from Long Beach reached out to the Los Angeles Times.
Yuki Okinaga Hayakawa Llewellyn was 80 and had been ill for some time, her friend Carol Norcross said.
As with many Japanese Americans who were uprooted, imprisoned and left with an uncertain future, the memories of Manzanar were seared into Llewellyn’s soul. She did research on the incarceration camp, wrestled with what it meant to be a Japanese American and shuddered at the thought that such a thing might someday happen again.
“People you elect into power are the ones that are able to do things like that,” she told author and photographer Paul Kitagaki Jr. in his book “Behind Barbed Wire.” “But I don’t see the numbers showing that the young people are voting, and that saddens me. That’s the only way you can control what’s going to happen.”
Yuki Llewellyn visits Manzanar in 2005. (Paul Kitagaki Jr.)
In 2005, Llewellyn returned to Manzanar for the first time since she was a child. For years the prison camp had been left to the elements and the scavengers, until all that remained were a pair of sentry towers and a cemetery. Manzanar was eventually proclaimed a national historic site, and a visitors center and other features were added. It is now both a destination and an enduring emblem of racial hysteria.
Llewellyn was initially torn about reopening the old wounds of Manzanar, said Norcross, who drove her friend up Highway 395 for the visit. But when she got there, there was little left of what she remembered.
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“There was nothing for her to really hang her thoughts or emotions on,” Norcross said. “There was nothing to say, ‘I was here.’”
In a commentary published in the Pacific Citizen in 2005, Llewellyn said she gathered some sand, an old nail from the barracks and a random piece of bamboo as mementos, tucking them carefully into a sandwich bag. As she stood there, she said she finally understood why her mother had no interest in revisiting Manzanar.
“As an adult, it would have been hell on Earth,” she wrote. “I was lucky to have been a child — a young child at that — I didn’t know what it was like not to be incarcerated.”
Her son David said as word got out that she was visiting Manzanar, people began coming up to her and apologizing for what the country had done. Some hugged her.
“Many were probably just kids like her at the time who couldn’t believe that we had done such a shameful thing,” he said.
Llewellyn met her husband, Don, while working on her thesis at Tulane University in New Orleans. The two later worked together on a theatrical production of Akira Kurosawa’s psychological thriller “Rashomon.” They later divorced but remained friends.
At the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where she rose from being a secretary to assistant dean of students, Llewellyn explored her ancestry and her own past. She brought noted Japanese Americans to speak at the university, celebrated when the campus opened an Asian American cultural center, and spoke out about Manzanar and Executive Order 9066, which set the wheels in motion for the creation of the camps following the bombing at Pearl Harbor.
The Manzanar War Relocation Center officially closed Nov. 21, 1945. (Los Angeles Public Library)
In her research, Llewellyn discovered that her father, who had left her mother before the two were hurried off to Manzanar, was also detained at the camp. Among the thousands of other prisoners at the camp, she had never seen him.
Later in life, when she tried to find him, she discovered he was already dead.
At Manzanar, Llewellyn gazed at the childhood photo and the memories came tumbling back.
“The happiest moment is the fact that I did discover something that I have been looking for all my life,” she wrote in the commentary. “The closure will be if I can write about it.”
Llewellyn is survived by her son, her daughter-in-law and three grandchildren.


latimes--2020-07-18--Urgent warnings to wear masks but so far only modest enforcement

As coronavirus cases began spiking in California last month , Gov .
Gavin Newsom ordered people to wear masks when in public settings .
But even as more Californians are covering their faces as protection against COVID-19 , compliance is spotty at best .
Many law enforcement agencies say they plan to educate those found without masks but not issue fines .
Still as outbreaks continue to worsen , some communities are beginning to pledge more aggressive action against scofflaws .
This week , Manhattan Beach became the latest city to say it would fine people not wearing masks in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ failing to wear a face covering is subject to an administrative citation , with fines of $ 100 for the first violation , $ 200 for the second and $ 350 for each one after that .
“ The drastic increase in positive COVID-19 cases in our city and around Los Angeles County have shown us that additional measures must be taken to make it clear to the public that face coverings are essential right now , ” Mayor Richard Montgomery said this week .
“ The time for warnings is over .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ are outside of your home in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19.
” A few other cities have taken similar action but so far have issued relatively few citations .
Capt .
Edward Ramirez of the West Hollywood sheriff ’ s station said Friday that deputies “ have issued a total of 12 citations to people without masks ” in the city .
“ That said , each person cited was provided a mask to wear by deputy personnel , ” he wrote in an email .
Beverly Hills spokesman Keith Sterling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ Our code enforcement and police officers have had hundreds of contacts with the public in recent days and most have complied when educated about our face-covering rules , ” he wrote in an email Friday .
Some law enforcement officials have balked at enforcing the rules , saying they don ’ t see themselves as the mask police .
But with Newsom ’ s statewide order , some of these agencies said they are doing their best .
In a statement last week , Orange County Sheriff Don Barnes said his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the resources it has available .
“ With limited exceptions , not wearing a face covering is a violation of the public health order , but it is not a practical application of a criminal law violation , ” Barnes wrote .
“ As many other industries are gaining compliance through an education-first approach , deputies will continue to educate the public about the statewide face-covering requirement and will request voluntary compliance.
” Experts say masks are essential when people go out in public , such as to shop or go to medical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people at the beach or park .
The pleas to wear masks come as California marked a grim week in both coronavirus case numbers and hospitalizations .
Los Angeles County public health officials reported more than 4,500 new coronavirus cases Thursday , shattering the record for the highest single-day increase in new infections .
“ If you do the math , it is easy to see why the alarm , ” Barbara Ferrer , L.A. County health director , said in a statement .
Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti reported 2,885 new cases @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a total of 150,319 positive confirmed cases and 4,047 deaths , matching the expectations from the county to surpass 4,000 deaths by the end of the week .
“ The simple truth of this fight is that this virus is affecting more and more of us every day , ” Garcetti said in a Friday evening briefing .

A Manhattan Beach police officer lets Michael Aranda know the bike path is closed earlier this month. The city became the latest to say it would fine people for not wearing masks in public.
As coronavirus cases began spiking in California last month, Gov. Gavin Newsom ordered people to wear masks when in public settings.
But even as more Californians are covering their faces as protection against COVID-19, compliance is spotty at best. Many law enforcement agencies say they plan to educate those found without masks but not issue fines.
Still as outbreaks continue to worsen, some communities are beginning to pledge more aggressive action against scofflaws. This week, Manhattan Beach became the latest city to say it would fine people not wearing masks in public areas. Under the order, failing to wear a face covering is subject to an administrative citation, with fines of $100 for the first violation, $200 for the second and $350 for each one after that.
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“The drastic increase in positive COVID-19 cases in our city and around Los Angeles County have shown us that additional measures must be taken to make it clear to the public that face coverings are essential right now,” Mayor Richard Montgomery said this week. “The time for warnings is over. Face coverings must be worn when you are outside of your home in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19.”
A few other cities have taken similar action but so far have issued relatively few citations.
Capt. Edward Ramirez of the West Hollywood sheriff’s station said Friday that deputies “have issued a total of 12 citations to people without masks” in the city.
“That said, each person cited was provided a mask to wear by deputy personnel,” he wrote in an email.
Beverly Hills spokesman Keith Sterling said one citation has been issued there.
“Our code enforcement and police officers have had hundreds of contacts with the public in recent days and most have complied when educated about our face-covering rules,” he wrote in an email Friday.
Advertisement
Some law enforcement officials have balked at enforcing the rules, saying they don’t see themselves as the mask police. But with Newsom’s statewide order, some of these agencies said they are doing their best.
In a statement last week, Orange County Sheriff Don Barnes said his department is taking a practical approach with the resources it has available.
“With limited exceptions, not wearing a face covering is a violation of the public health order, but it is not a practical application of a criminal law violation,” Barnes wrote. “As many other industries are gaining compliance through an education-first approach, deputies will continue to educate the public about the statewide face-covering requirement and will request voluntary compliance.”
Experts say masks are essential when people go out in public, such as to shop or go to medical appointments, and when close to other people at the beach or park.
The pleas to wear masks come as California marked a grim week in both coronavirus case numbers and hospitalizations.
Los Angeles County public health officials reported more than 4,500 new coronavirus cases Thursday, shattering the record for the highest single-day increase in new infections.
“If you do the math, it is easy to see why the alarm,” Barbara Ferrer, L.A. County health director, said in a statement.
Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti reported 2,885 new cases and 62 deaths on Friday, for a total of 150,319 positive confirmed cases and 4,047 deaths, matching the expectations from the county to surpass 4,000 deaths by the end of the week.
“The simple truth of this fight is that this virus is affecting more and more of us every day,” Garcetti said in a Friday evening briefing.