latimes--2020-09-26--California mayor, Mexican governor launch war of words over cross-border sewage spills

The mayor of Imperial Beach , Calif. , and the governor of Baja California are engaged in an ongoing public feud over cross-border sewage spills , which have been a problem for years and resulted in polluting local communities in the United States and making people ill. Mexican Gov .
Jaime Bonilla has held three separate news conferences this month demanding Mayor Serge Dedina apologize for his public criticisms of Mexico ’ s inability to stop sewage from flowing into the U.S. Bonilla publicly insisted that his administration has already fixed the problem by repairing broken pumps and clearing trash @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Dedina pointed out that Tijuana ’ s overburdened sewage system continues to discharge contaminated water from a pump station six miles south of the border .
Until that is fixed , he said , cross-border sewage flows will continue .
The pumps along the Tijuana River Valley were only one source of the cross-border flow .
Even though they are repaired , the other flow still threatens Imperial Beach residents .
To be sure , repairing the pumps has had a positive effect .
There have not been any cross-border sewage flows @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Imperial Beach shoreline has remained open for the longest continuous period since the pumps stopped working in November 2019 .
When those pumps broke , sewage flowed through the Tijuana River Valley on an almost daily basis .
Before , sewage only flowed during heavy rainstorms .
But even though the pumps are fixed , Imperial Beach is still vulnerable to sewage from Punta Banderas , the pump station six miles south of the border , during south swells that cause sewage to drift north to Imperial Beach .
Sewage-filled south swells @ @ @ @ @ @ @ beaches on Labor Day .
Officials from the International Boundary and Water Commission say the incident was caused by trash build-up in one of the intake screens at the station and resulted in a flow of roughly 877,000 gallons of contaminated water .
“ We ’ re back to the normal horrific situation that still needs to be fixed , ” Dedina said .
“ All they did was repair the apocalyptic situation that we had.
” Bonilla has dismissed Dedina ’ s critiques as an attempt to raise his political profile .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ to attack Mexico because of his political aspirations , because he wants to be senator , ” Bonilla told Zeta , a Tijuana news outlet .
Dedina added that this public spat has actually been good for Imperial Beach because it has brought attention to the cross-border sewage issue , particularly in Mexico where local media have covered Bonilla ’ s press conferences and asked about Punta Banderas .
A recent report by Telemundo noted that a Committee for Clean Beaches has met only once since Bonilla took office in June 2019 .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ officials acknowledged that the Punta Banderas pump station has not been fixed , but they have a plan in place and hope to get federal funding to execute the plan .
Officials say they expect to receive that funding sometime in 2021 , according to the Telemundo report .
Imperial County is not the only place along the border where cross-border sewage spills are a problem .
Earlier this month , CBS ’ “ 60 Minutes ” reported on continuous raw sewage spills from the Tijuana River into the United States as well @ @ @ @ @ @ @ recently announced new investments in infrastructure in the river valley that will address problems with sewage runoff .
Regarding Bonilla ’ s demands , Dedina laughed when asked whether he planned to issue a public apology .
The mayor said he and his son have personally gotten sick from polluted waters ; so have Imperial Beach residents , lifeguards , Border Patrol personnel and Navy sailors .
“ We have a long way to go before we ever apologize , ” he said .
Earlier this year , the federal government set aside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the U.S.-Mexico border .
Additionally , after lobbying from local stakeholders and San Diego ’ s congressional delegation , the Environmental Protection Agency committed millions to short-term solutions to slow down cross-border sewage until a more permanent fix is in place .

The mayor of Imperial Beach, Calif., and the governor of Baja California are engaged in an ongoing public feud over cross-border sewage spills, which have been a problem for years and resulted in polluting local communities in the United States and making people ill.
Mexican Gov. Jaime Bonilla has held three separate news conferences this month demanding Mayor Serge Dedina apologize for his public criticisms of Mexico’s inability to stop sewage from flowing into the U.S.
For the record: An earlier version of this post referred to Imperial County when it should have referred to Imperial Beach.
Bonilla publicly insisted that his administration has already fixed the problem by repairing broken pumps and clearing trash along the Tijuana River Valley. However, Dedina pointed out that Tijuana’s overburdened sewage system continues to discharge contaminated water from a pump station six miles south of the border. Until that is fixed, he said, cross-border sewage flows will continue.
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The pumps along the Tijuana River Valley were only one source of the cross-border flow. Even though they are repaired, the other flow still threatens Imperial Beach residents.
To be sure, repairing the pumps has had a positive effect. There have not been any cross-border sewage flows in the last couple of weeks and the Imperial Beach shoreline has remained open for the longest continuous period since the pumps stopped working in November 2019.
When those pumps broke, sewage flowed through the Tijuana River Valley on an almost daily basis. Before, sewage only flowed during heavy rainstorms.
But even though the pumps are fixed, Imperial Beach is still vulnerable to sewage from Punta Banderas, the pump station six miles south of the border, during south swells that cause sewage to drift north to Imperial Beach.
Sewage-filled south swells most recently forced Imperial Beach to close beaches on Labor Day.
Officials from the International Boundary and Water Commission say the incident was caused by trash build-up in one of the intake screens at the station and resulted in a flow of roughly 877,000 gallons of contaminated water.
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“We’re back to the normal horrific situation that still needs to be fixed,” Dedina said. “All they did was repair the apocalyptic situation that we had.”
Bonilla has dismissed Dedina’s critiques as an attempt to raise his political profile.
“We will not allow a mayor to attack Mexico because of his political aspirations, because he wants to be senator,” Bonilla told Zeta, a Tijuana news outlet.
Dedina added that this public spat has actually been good for Imperial Beach because it has brought attention to the cross-border sewage issue, particularly in Mexico where local media have covered Bonilla’s press conferences and asked about Punta Banderas.
A recent report by Telemundo noted that a Committee for Clean Beaches has met only once since Bonilla took office in June 2019. In that report, Baja California state officials acknowledged that the Punta Banderas pump station has not been fixed, but they have a plan in place and hope to get federal funding to execute the plan.
Officials say they expect to receive that funding sometime in 2021, according to the Telemundo report.
Imperial Beach is not the only place along the border where cross-border sewage spills are a problem. Earlier this month, CBS’ “60 Minutes” reported on continuous raw sewage spills from the Tijuana River into the United States as well as the Pacific Ocean. U.S. officials recently announced new investments in infrastructure in the river valley that will address problems with sewage runoff.
Regarding Bonilla’s demands, Dedina laughed when asked whether he planned to issue a public apology.
The mayor said he and his son have personally gotten sick from polluted waters; so have Imperial Beach residents, lifeguards, Border Patrol personnel and Navy sailors.
“We have a long way to go before we ever apologize,” he said.
Earlier this year, the federal government set aside $300 million for infrastructure projects along the U.S.-Mexico border. Additionally, after lobbying from local stakeholders and San Diego’s congressional delegation, the Environmental Protection Agency committed millions to short-term solutions to slow down cross-border sewage until a more permanent fix is in place.
Solis writes for the San Diego Union-Tribune.


latimes--2020-09-26--Facing critical fire danger, PG&E prepares to shut off power in Northern California

have been issued for from 9 p.m. Saturday through early Monday as hot and windy conditions raise concerns about new blazes in what is already the worst fire season in state history .
The warning covers an area from just above Redding , southeast into the Sierra foothills , parts of the Sacramento Valley and the San Francisco Bay Area , including the North Bay mountains , East Bay hills and interior valleys .
David Sweet , a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Oxnard , previously said that a large area of high pressure covering almost the entire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the weekend .
Temperatures could climb to 10 to 20 degrees above normal in some areas .
Officials said the forecast conditions — which include sustained winds , low humidity and summerlike temperatures — will make it easier for fires to both start and spread .
That ’ s unwelcome news in an area of the state where crews are still working to contain some of the largest wildfires in California history .
Those include the northeast of Oroville , which has burned more than 304,000 acres and has become one of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Containment on that blaze is at 78 % .
The mammoth has charred a state-record 867,000-plus acres in and around the Mendocino , Shasta-Trinity and Six Rivers national forests , southwest of Redding .
That blaze was 38 % contained as of Friday morning .
Pacific Gas & Electric may cut power to nearly 97,000 customers in 15 counties this weekend to reduce the danger of fire from power lines downed by wind .
Utility officials said that a “ public safety power shut-off ” could be necessary as “ hot and dry @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gusts , pose an increased risk for damage to the electric system that has the potential to ignite fires in areas with dry vegetation.
” The “ potentially strong and dry offshore wind event ” is expected to start early Sunday and last through Monday , according to PG & E .
As a result , the utility said outages may become necessary in parts of Alpine , Amador , Butte , Calaveras , El Dorado , Kern , Lake , Napa , Nevada , Placer , Plumas , Shasta , Sierra , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ E previously said potential outages were expected to affect only about 21,000 customers in parts of Butte , Plumas and Yuba counties , but greatly expanded that “ based on updated weather forecasts that showed stronger wind gusts in a larger portion ” of its service area , according issued late Friday .

A U.S. Forest Service firefighter sprays down flames on the northwest flank of the August Complex fire in Trinity County on Sept. 22.
Red flag warnings have been issued for much of Northern California from 9 p.m. Saturday through early Monday as hot and windy conditions raise concerns about new blazes in what is already the worst fire season in state history.
The warning covers an area from just above Redding, southeast into the Sierra foothills, parts of the Sacramento Valley and the San Francisco Bay Area, including the North Bay mountains, East Bay hills and interior valleys.
David Sweet, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Oxnard, previously said that a large area of high pressure covering almost the entire West Coast is expected to build over the weekend. Temperatures could climb to 10 to 20 degrees above normal in some areas.
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Officials said the forecast conditions — which include sustained winds, low humidity and summerlike temperatures — will make it easier for fires to both start and spread.
That’s unwelcome news in an area of the state where crews are still working to contain some of the largest wildfires in California history.
Those include the North Complex fire northeast of Oroville, which has burned more than 304,000 acres and has become one of the state’s deadliest and most destructive ever. Containment on that blaze is at 78%.
The mammoth August Complex fire has charred a state-record 867,000-plus acres in and around the Mendocino, Shasta-Trinity and Six Rivers national forests, southwest of Redding. That blaze was 38% contained as of Friday morning.
Pacific Gas & Electric may cut power to nearly 97,000 customers in 15 counties this weekend to reduce the danger of fire from power lines downed by wind.
Utility officials said that a “public safety power shut-off” could be necessary as “hot and dry conditions, combined with expected high wind gusts, pose an increased risk for damage to the electric system that has the potential to ignite fires in areas with dry vegetation.”
The “potentially strong and dry offshore wind event” is expected to start early Sunday and last through Monday, according to PG&E.
As a result, the utility said outages may become necessary in parts of Alpine, Amador, Butte, Calaveras, El Dorado, Kern, Lake, Napa, Nevada, Placer, Plumas, Shasta, Sierra, Tehama and Yuba counties.
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latimes--2020-09-26--Column: She died on a sidewalk near where she grew up. She was L.A.'s 959th homeless death this year

Sylvia Maglia , 63 , was well on her way to becoming a statistic in a region where , each year , we break records for the number of people who die on our streets .
She was deteriorating quickly in Granada Hills , anchored in her regular spot outside a real estate office on Balboa Boulevard , just south of San Fernando Mission Boulevard .
“ She was skin and bones , and she refused to eat , ” said Sandra , a homeless woman who lives on the pavement near the Target store , less than a block @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Pilar Schiavo , a Chatsworth resident who takes water and food to homeless people in the western San Fernando Valley and lobbies for more shelter beds and housing , recalls stopping to see Maglia on the wretchedly hot Labor Day weekend , when the mercury hit 118 in Granada Hills .
“ One of the things that struck me about her was how very thin she was , with just bones poking out , ” Schiavio said .
She told me that Maglia had spilled something inside her green tent and was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ She said thank you , and she was kind and sweet , but she had what definitely seemed like it could be some mental health issues , and she was distracted and busy with her cleaning project , ” said Schiavo , who left Maglia a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some other food and water .
Last Sunday , two weeks after that initial visit , Schiavo swung by the same spot to check on Maglia , but all she found was a shopping cart full of things she assumed were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ looking for her , with no luck .
She later learned that on Friday evening , Sept. 18 , Maglia had died on the street where she had been a fixture for years .
When Maglia died , I heard from John Horn , who serves on the Granada Hills South Neighborhood Council and leads its homelessness committee .
“ We can talk about ending homelessness all we want , but until we get actual housing services in our … community , then it is all just talk , ” Horn said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that people die on the street , even in our community… .
We have to make change.
” Last year , homeless deaths in L.A. County were averaging about three a day and rapidly on their way to topping the 1,000 mark as the year closed out .
When I wrote about it , on Dec. 14 , the toll was at 960 .
Last week , while looking into Maglia ’ s death , I called the county medical examiner-coroner ’ s office and asked where the count stood this year .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s answer .
The death toll was already at 962 , and with three months left in 2020 , this year ’ s total is sure to obliterate last year ’ s shameful record .
I went through the list of deaths and a few statistics jumped out .
More than 80 % of the victims were male .
The average age of death was 48 — more than 30 years younger than the countywide average of 82 .
And just as COVID-19 has hit communities of color harder , highlighting deep-seated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the homeless death count .
Black people represent about 9 % of the county population but 26 % of the deaths , at 256 .
The highest total by race was Hispanic/Latino , at 344 , while Caucasians accounted for 328 of the homeless deaths .
Deaths occurred throughout the county , with a high concentration in and around downtown Los Angeles .
The coroner ’ s office and public health department are analyzing the numbers for a report due in November , and with roughly a quarter of the deaths , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Among cases that do list causes , trend lines follow those of recent years , with lots of cardiovascular disease and accompanying issues such as diabetes and liver disease , along with evidence of damage from alcohol and drugs , namely methamphetamine and opiates .
Twenty homeless people died by homicide , 18 by suicide .
Dr. Paul Simon , who ’ s studying the numbers for the county public health department , said COVID-19 appears to have been a factor in at least 44 of the deaths .
But he didn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the extreme heat has been a “ major driver ” of the increase .
Simon surmised that the high death count may largely be related to a rise in the homeless population .
“ The sheer number of people living on the streets during COVID has gone up because of the economic decline and people losing their jobs and being evicted , even though there are supposed to be protections in place , ” Simon said .
In Granada Hills , I caught up with Sylvia Maglia ’ s brother , Brent , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with his younger sister .
He said Sylvia clashed with their parents — an aeronautical engineer and a homemaker — when she was in her teens .
She was later diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia , but often refused medication or treatment .
Sometimes , she was aggressive enough that he feared she ’ d try to harm him .
He said his sister was married and divorced , often turned to drugs , and resisted many of his attempts to help .
“ Long story short , it all seemed inevitable , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dozens of those with homeless , mentally ill relatives I ’ ve spoken to over the years .
They are inevitably frustrated by the lack of appropriate housing , and by the difficulty of getting professional help for someone who resists it .
Councilman John Lee , who represents Council District 12 , has been criticized by some constituents for not stepping up on homeless housing .
Lee , whose predecessor , Mitch Englander , could soon go to prison on corruption charges , inherited Englander ’ s failure to produce more housing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ office more than a year .
District 12 is one of six council districts that have not met a pledge , agreed to in March of 2018 , to build 222 units of supportive housing by July of this year , and the district ’ s meager 54 units built so far puts it in a tie for lowest in the city .
Lee told me he expects to make progress in coming weeks on a number of housing and homeless-service projects , including at least one involving a state program to use @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Sylvia Maglia , Lee said his office has been aware of her situation — and attempts to help her — for years .
Her case , he said , “ sheds light on the challenge ” of assisting people with a mental illness who resist help .
“ Social workers from DMH have visited Sylvia probably two [ or ] three times a week in the last few months , ” Lee said of efforts by the county mental health department .
Lee is right about the challenge , and I got a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me and mental health professionals roughly a year to persuade my friend Nathaniel to come inside for help .
Mental illness can create doubts , fears , lack of trust — often for good reason .
It can make the thought of leaving familiar surroundings , no matter how harsh , terrifying .
The key , as Lee said , is to keep going back and building trust until the No becomes a Yes .
But , as I reminded the councilman , you have to have somewhere to take the person , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ options for years .
Maglia ’ s brother , a retired lawyer , was frustrated about how laws designed to protect his sister ’ s rights might have worked against her .
There is , by the way , an ongoing debate about the “ grave disability ” bar that must be met to force someone into help even if they refuse .
In hindsight , Maglia ’ s life might have been saved if — given her condition and the savage heat — she had been taken to a hospital .
Instead @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the house she grew up in .
Well-wishers left flowers and candles at the base of a utility pole near her spot .
A UPS delivery man who used to give Maglia bottles of water when he made pickups and deliveries at a nearby Century 21 taped a note to the makeshift memorial reading “ Rest in Peace , ” scrawled on the back of a “ Sorry we missed you ” form .
A U.S. flag was wrapped around the pole , and above it someone had attached a framed photo @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and only look at her .
In the photo , Maglia has curly hair and glasses , and she ’ s wearing a Zuma Beach T-shirt and a necklace with a cross pendant .
She is waving to someone , maybe hello and maybe goodbye .
She is smiling .

Julia Colon visits a memorial for Sylvia Maglia, 63, a homeless woman who had lived on the same slab of sidewalk in Granada Hills for a couple of years until she died recently.
Sylvia Maglia, 63, was well on her way to becoming a statistic in a region where, each year, we break records for the number of people who die on our streets. She was deteriorating quickly in Granada Hills, anchored in her regular spot outside a real estate office on Balboa Boulevard, just south of San Fernando Mission Boulevard.
“She was skin and bones, and she refused to eat,” said Sandra, a homeless woman who lives on the pavement near a Target store less than a block away. “She was very sick.”
Pilar Schiavo, a Chatsworth resident who takes water and food to homeless people in the western San Fernando Valley and lobbies for more shelter beds and housing, recalls stopping to see Maglia on the wretchedly hot Labor Day weekend, when the mercury hit 118 in Granada Hills.
A photograph of Sylvia Maglia, who before she died was deteriorating quickly in Granada Hills, anchored in her regular spot outside a real estate office on Balboa Boulevard. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
“One of the things that struck me about her was how very thin she was, with just bones poking out,” Schiavo said. She told me that Maglia had spilled something inside her green tent and was preoccupied with cleaning it up.
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“She said thank you, and she was kind and sweet, but she had what definitely seemed like it could be some mental health issues, and she was distracted and busy with her cleaning project,” said Schiavo, who left Maglia a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some other food and water.
Last Sunday, two weeks after that initial visit, Schiavo swung by the same spot to check on Maglia, but all she found was a shopping cart full of things she assumed were Maglia’s. Schiavo drove around looking for her, with no luck. She later learned that on Friday evening, Sept. 18, Maglia had died on the street where she had been a fixture for years.
When Maglia died, I heard from John Horn, who serves on the Granada Hills South Neighborhood Council and leads its homelessness committee.
A memorial for Sylvia Maglia, who on Sept. 18 died on the street where she had been a fixture for years. “She was skin and bones, and she refused to eat,” said a homeless woman who knew her. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
“We can talk about ending homelessness all we want, but until we get actual housing services in our … community, then it is all just talk,” Horn said. “We have to make it known that people die on the street, even in our community…. We have to make change.”
Last year, homeless deaths in L.A. County were averaging about three a day and rapidly on their way to topping the 1,000 mark as the year closed out. When I wrote about it, on Dec. 14, the toll was at 960.
Last week, while looking into Maglia’s death, I called the county medical examiner-coroner’s office and asked where the count stood this year. I was stunned by spokeswoman Sarah Ardalani’s answer. The death toll was already at 962, and with three months left in 2020, this year’s total is sure to obliterate last year’s shameful record.
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I went through the list of deaths and a few statistics jumped out. More than 80% of the victims were male. The average age of death was 48 — more than 30 years younger than the countywide average of 82.
Blanca Hernandez adds to a memorial for Sylvia Maglia, who died just a few blocks from the house she grew up in. Well-wishers left flowers and candles at the base of a utility pole near her spot. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
And just as COVID-19 has hit communities of color harder, highlighting deep-seated disparities, Black people are disproportionately represented in the homeless death count. Black people represent about 9% of the county population but 26% of the deaths, at 256. The highest total by race was Hispanic/Latino, at 344, while white people accounted for 328 of the homeless deaths. Deaths occurred throughout the county, with a high concentration in and around downtown Los Angeles.
The coroner’s office and Public Health Department are analyzing the numbers for a report due in November, and with roughly a quarter of the deaths, no cause has yet been listed. Among cases that do list causes, trend lines follow those of recent years, with lots of cardiovascular disease and accompanying issues such as diabetes and liver disease, along with evidence of damage from alcohol and drugs, namely methamphetamine and opiates. Twenty homeless people died by homicide, 18 by suicide.
Photos of Sylvia Maglia are offered to visitors at her memorial in Granada Hills. Maglia’s brother, a retired lawyer, was frustrated about how laws designed to protect his sister’s rights might have worked against her. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
Dr. Paul Simon, who’s studying the numbers for the county Public Health Department, said COVID-19 appears to have been a factor in at least 44 of the deaths. But he didn’t think that either the virus or the extreme heat has been a “major driver” of the increase. Simon surmised that the high death count may largely be related to a rise in the homeless population.
“The sheer number of people living on the streets during COVID has gone up because of the economic decline and people losing their jobs and being evicted, even though there are supposed to be protections in place,” Simon said.
In Granada Hills, I caught up with Sylvia Maglia’s brother, Brent, who detailed a long history of issues with his younger sister. He said Sylvia clashed with their parents — an aeronautical engineer and a homemaker — when she was in her teens. She was later diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia but often refused medication or treatment. Sometimes, she was aggressive enough that he feared she’d try to harm him.
He said his sister was married and divorced, often turned to drugs, and resisted many of his attempts to help.
“Long story short, it all seemed inevitable,” said Brent, who reminded me of dozens of those with homeless, mentally ill relatives I’ve spoken to over the years. They are inevitably frustrated by the lack of appropriate housing, and by the difficulty of getting professional help for someone who resists it.
Councilman John Lee, who represents Council District 12, has been criticized by some constituents for not stepping up on homeless housing. Lee, whose predecessor, Mitch Englander, could soon go to prison on corruption charges, inherited Englander’s failure to produce more housing, but he has now been in office more than a year. District 12 is one of six council districts that have not met a pledge, agreed to in March 2018, to build 222 units of supportive housing by July of this year, and the district’s meager 54 units built so far puts it in a tie for lowest in the city.
Lee told me he expects to make progress in coming weeks on a number of housing and homeless services projects, including at least one involving a state program to use motels for supportive housing.
As for Sylvia Maglia, Lee said his office has been aware of her situation — and attempts to help her — for years. Her case, he said, “sheds light on the challenge” of assisting people with a mental illness who resist help.
“Social workers from DMH have visited Sylvia probably two [or] three times a week in the last few months,” Lee said of efforts by the county Department of Mental Health.
Lee is right about the challenge, and I got a good education on that when it took me and mental health professionals roughly a year to persuade my friend Nathaniel to come inside for help. Mental illness can create doubts, fears, lack of trust — often for good reason. It can make the thought of leaving familiar surroundings, no matter how harsh, terrifying.
The key, as Lee said, is to keep going back and building trust until the No becomes a Yes. But, as I reminded the councilman, you have to have somewhere to take the person, and Los Angeles has had too few options for years.
Maglia’s brother, a retired lawyer, was frustrated about how laws designed to protect his sister’s rights might have worked against her. There is, by the way, an ongoing debate about the “grave disability” bar that must be met to force someone into help even if they refuse. In hindsight, Maglia’s life might have been saved if — given her condition and the savage heat — she had been taken to a hospital.
Instead, she died just a few blocks from the house she grew up in. Well-wishers left flowers and candles at the base of a utility pole near her spot. A UPS delivery man who used to give Maglia bottles of water when he made pickups and deliveries at a nearby Century 21 taped a note to the makeshift memorial reading “Rest in Peace,” scrawled on the back of a “Sorry we missed you” form.
A U.S. flag was wrapped around the pole, and above it someone had attached a framed photo of Maglia.
It was my first and only look at her.
In the photo, Maglia has curly hair and glasses, and she’s wearing a Zuma Beach T-shirt and a necklace with a cross pendant. She is waving to someone, maybe hello and maybe goodbye. She is smiling.
steve.lopez@latimes.com


latimes--2020-09-26--Do California hotel workers deserve extra job security? They think so

Bleary-eyed and snack-deprived , I stumbled toward Terminal A at John Wayne Airport at 5:30 in the morning .
It was a ritual I practiced at least once a month before the coronavirus , my runway of choice to seek stories across the country .
This time , the final destination was closer : the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles .
A group of laid-off airport and hotel employees were going to hold a rally at John Wayne , then visit the legendary Sunset Strip hotel where John Belushi died to meet their unemployed peers .
Afterward , some planned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ meeting with Gov .
Gavin Newsom .
They were upset he has yet to sign AB 3216 , which would pin a right-to-return policy on the hospitality industry .
Basically , anyone who lost their jobs at hotels , airports and private clubs during this pandemic and any future “ state of emergency ” can get their position back based on seniority once normal returns — whenever that is .
I was there to ask workers one question : Out of all lost jobs in the Golden State , why did theirs deserve @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the working class ?
John Wayne Airport was eerily slow when I showed up .
Nearby hotels — usually lit up before dawn like checkerboards — were almost completely dark .
The traffic that usually snarls the small airport was nonexistent .
It was so quiet that activists with Unite Here Local 11 , the union that represents more than 30,000 hospitality workers across Southern California and Arizona , parked in loading zones to decorate their cars with signs — and no one complained .
At least for a while .
Joyce @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , held a sign that read , “ No Insurance in the Middle of a Pandemic , ” which caught the eye of Unite Here researcher Jonah Breslau .
He flipped the sign over so it read “ Recall Airport Workers.
” “ Let ’ s not get the message confused , ” he told Swaving .
“ As it is , people think AB 3216 is some exercise supplement.
” As it was , no one at John Wayne Airport seemed to care .
The 20 or so protesters who showed up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The few people flying out that morning were too focused on lugging suitcases to notice anything else .
Unite Here 11 co-President Ada Briceño told me that California ’ s multibillion-dollar hospitality industry had a moral obligation to rehire its workers .
“ We know what ’ s going to happen , ” said Briceño , who also heads the Democratic Party of Orange County .
“ We saw it after 9/11 .
We saw it after the Great Recession .
They ’ ll lay off people , then rehire younger and cheaper @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what about people who gave years to them ?
” Tall and taciturn like the airport ’ s namesake , Orange County Sheriff ’ s Deputy Robert Witteman wore the look of an annoyed neighbor after kids trampled his lawn .
Again .
He told the cars to skedaddle , which they were already going to do because their protest was about to start .
Everyone put on their hazard lights and pumped their hands on the horn as they began to cruise around the airport a tad slower than the posted 10-mph @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mini-convoy to see what might happen .
A View-Master slideshow played out every time we passed by Terminal A .
The small Unite Here crowd cheered us on .
Click .
The SUV joined the drive-by rally and pulled an organizer over .
Click .
Briceño called later to say that the deputies threatened to give everyone a ticket for not pulling the permit and for honking too much , but let the group off with a warning .
I say she called me later because I didn ’ t stick around .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Johnny Law pull the organizer to the curb , I tapped on the gas and made my getaway .
I still wasn ’ t convinced about AB 3216 as Waze told me a zigzag through Koreatown was the fastest way to Chateau Marmont .
The cynic in me knew the only reason the bill was getting so much play was because its backers included the media-savvy Unite Here and political powerhouses — and former union organizers — like Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez ( D-San Diego ) and state Sen. Maria Elena Durazo ( D-Los @ @ @ @ @ @ @ California hospitality industry is in a free fall , it has received tens of millions of dollars in federal Paycheck Protection Program loans .
For this and other reasons , they have a fighting chance .
Their former employees ?
Not so much .
When we think of hospitality workers ... we really don ’ t .
Our focus is on rest and relaxation when we travel , not the help .
Or we imagine jovial Hollywood stock characters who have few worries and meet their Prince Charming while emptying trash cans .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ longtimers : overwhelmingly middle-aged and immigrant .
People like Walter Almendarez .
He worked as a bellman for 23 years at the Chateau Marmont before it closed down in March .
The owner plans to reopen it as a private club with far fewer workers .
“ How is it you ’ re going to run me away like that ?
” said the Salvadoran immigrant , as someone chalked “ Gov .
Newsom Hear Our Stories ” on his car .
Nearby , Francisco Santos nodded .
“ It ’ s been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rid of us , ” said the 63-year-old , who worked as a cook at the Terranea Resort in Rancho Palos Verdes for eight years .
“ We don ’ t want handouts , “ said 62-year-old Carlos Barrera of Santa Clarita .
The Guatemalan native lost his job as a Chateau Marmont valet just after celebrating 40 years there .
“ That ’ s why the bill is important .
I understand there ’ s no work right now , but give us some hope.
” Even workers who would find themselves @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sympathized with their older comrades .
“ I have a lot of respect for people who have worked 30 , 40 years , ” said Keisha Banks , who worked in catering and events at Chateau Marmont for only a year .
“ The company doesn ’ t .
These people who gave most of their lives to the company were let go the same way I was let go — with an email.
” “ Our society discriminates against older people , ” said 43-year-old Paramount resident Yesenia Garcia , formerly of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ They ’ ll see their resume and think , ‘ Dishwasher for 20 years ?
That ’ s nothing.
’ And that ’ s not fair .
It ’ s important for me to get my job , but what about them ?
” Despite this despair , the mood was markedly different from John Wayne Airport .
It was hopeful .
A line of cars parked in a red zone in front of the Chateau Marmont , and no cop ever came by .
Commuters honked in support and even slowed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A pastor , a rabbi and a Jesuit — not the beginning of a joke , I promise — offered blessings in their respective faith traditions , along with a secular “ Sí se puede !
” “ Hospitality is a sacred act , ” said Pastor Bridie Roberts of Hollywood United Methodist Church .
“ Think about the stories from the Gospel — the breaking of bread .
The search for lodging in Bethlehem .
These workers are ‘ the least of these ’ right now , so we need to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Twelve cars , including a limousine with “ 25 Years Experience ” on its side window , took off around 9 a.m. As we went our separate ways , I thanked them for their hospitality .
Someone should , at long last .
A $ 10 tip left under dirty linens just isn ’ t enough anymore .

Courtney Banks, who has worked in events and catering at the Chateau Marmont, writes a message on a vehicle window in support of workers who lost their jobs at the hotel in Los Angeles.
Bleary-eyed and snack-deprived, I stumbled toward Terminal A at John Wayne Airport at 5:30 in the morning.
It was a ritual I practiced at least once a month before the coronavirus, my runway of choice to seek stories across the country.
This time, the final destination was closer: the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles.
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A group of laid-off airport and hotel employees were going to hold a rally at John Wayne, then visit the legendary Sunset Strip hotel where John Belushi died to meet their unemployed peers. Afterward, some planned to caravan to Sacramento and demand a meeting with Gov. Gavin Newsom.
Carlos Barrera, who has worked in valet parking for 40 years at the Chateau Marmont, writes a message on the window of his car in support of employees who lost their jobs at the hotel. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
They were upset he has yet to sign AB 3216, which would pin a right-to-return policy on the hospitality industry. Basically, anyone who lost their jobs at hotels, airports and private clubs during this pandemic and any future “state of emergency” can get their position back based on seniority once normal returns — whenever that is.
I was there to ask workers one question: Out of all lost jobs in the Golden State, why did theirs deserve special protection? What about the rest of the working class?
John Wayne Airport was eerily slow when I showed up. Nearby hotels — usually lit up before dawn like checkerboards — were almost completely dark. The traffic that usually snarls the small airport was nonexistent. It was so quiet that activists with Unite Here Local 11, the union that represents more than 30,000 hospitality workers across Southern California and Arizona, parked in loading zones to decorate their cars with signs — and no one complained.
At least for a while.
Joyce Swaving, a 67-year-old Aliso Viejo resident, held a sign that read, “No Insurance in the Middle of a Pandemic,” which caught the eye of Unite Here researcher Jonah Breslau. He flipped the sign over so it read “Recall Airport Workers.”
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Pastor Bridie Roberts from Hollywood Methodist Church, right, urges drivers to honk in support of workers who lost their jobs at the Chateau Marmont. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
“Let’s not get the message confused,” he told Swaving. “As it is, people think AB 3216 is some exercise supplement.”
As it was, no one at John Wayne Airport seemed to care.
The 20 or so protesters who showed up outnumbered travelers about 4 to 1. The few people flying out that morning were too focused on lugging suitcases to notice anything else.
Unite Here 11 co-President Ada Briceño told me that California’s multibillion-dollar hospitality industry had a moral obligation to rehire its workers.
Luis Caciano, right, who has worked for 10 years on the cook line at the Chateau Marmont, urges drivers to honk in support of hotel workers. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
“We know what’s going to happen,” said Briceño, who also heads the Democratic Party of Orange County. “We saw it after 9/11. We saw it after the Great Recession. They’ll lay off people, then rehire younger and cheaper. The hotels will recover, but what about people who gave years to them?”
Suddenly, a deep voice asked, “Did you guys pull a permit?”
Tall and taciturn like the airport’s namesake, Orange County Sheriff’s Deputy Robert Witteman wore the look of an annoyed neighbor after kids trampled his lawn. Again.
He told the cars to skedaddle, which they were already going to do because their protest was about to start.
Father Ike Udoh, right, from the Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Hollywood blesses Frank Cueva, a supervisor and bartender at the Four Points Sheraton in Anaheim. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
Everyone put on their hazard lights and pumped their hands on the horn as they began to cruise around the airport a tad slower than the posted 10-mph speed limit.
I weaved into their mini-convoy to see what might happen. A View-Master slideshow played out every time we passed by Terminal A.
The small Unite Here crowd cheered us on. Click.
Another deputy joined Witteman. Click.
Then five. Click.
Walter Almendarez, who has worked as a bellman for 23 years at the Chateau Marmont, writes messages on the window of his car in support of hotel workers who lost their jobs. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
A Sheriff’s Department SUV showed up with flashing lights. Click.
The SUV joined the drive-by rally and pulled an organizer over. Click.
Briceño called later to say that the deputies threatened to give everyone a ticket for not pulling the permit and for honking too much, but let the group off with a warning.
I say she called me later because I didn’t stick around. As soon as I saw Orange County Johnny Law pull the organizer to the curb, I tapped on the gas and made my getaway.
***
I still wasn’t convinced about AB 3216 as Waze told me a zigzag through Koreatown was the fastest way to Chateau Marmont.
The cynic in me knew the only reason the bill was getting so much play was because its backers included the media-savvy Unite Here and political powerhouses — and former union organizers — like Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez (D-San Diego) and state Sen. Maria Elena Durazo (D-Los Angeles).
But even though the California hospitality industry is in a free fall, it has received tens of millions of dollars in federal Paycheck Protection Program loans. For this and other reasons, they have a fighting chance.
Their former employees? Not so much.
When we think of hospitality workers ... we really don’t. Our focus is on rest and relaxation when we travel, not the help. Or we imagine jovial Hollywood stock characters who have few worries and meet their Prince Charming while emptying trash cans.
We don’t think about the longtimers: overwhelmingly middle-aged and immigrant.
People like Walter Almendarez. He worked as a bellman for 23 years at the Chateau Marmont before it closed down in March. The owner plans to reopen it as a private club with far fewer workers.
“How is it you’re going to run me away like that?” said the Salvadoran immigrant, as someone chalked “Gov. Newsom Hear Our Stories” on his car. Nearby, Francisco Santos nodded.
“It’s been a golden opportunity for them to get rid of us,” said the 63-year-old, who worked as a cook at the Terranea Resort in Rancho Palos Verdes for eight years.
“We don’t want handouts,“ said 62-year-old Carlos Barrera of Santa Clarita. The Guatemalan native lost his job as a Chateau Marmont valet just after celebrating 40 years there. “That’s why the bill is important. I understand there’s no work right now, but give us some hope.”
Even workers who would find themselves at disadvantage if AB 3216 became law sympathized with their older comrades.
“I have a lot of respect for people who have worked 30, 40 years,” said Keisha Banks, who worked in catering and events at Chateau Marmont for only a year. “The company doesn’t. These people who gave most of their lives to the company were let go the same way I was let go — with an email.”
“Our society discriminates against older people,” said 43-year-old Paramount resident Yesenia Garcia, formerly of the Langham Huntington hotel in Pasadena. “They’ll see their resume and think, ‘Dishwasher for 20 years? That’s nothing.’ And that’s not fair. It’s important for me to get my job, but what about them?”
Despite this despair, the mood was markedly different from John Wayne Airport. It was hopeful.
A line of cars parked in a red zone in front of the Chateau Marmont, and no cop ever came by. Commuters honked in support and even slowed down to ask how they could help.
A pastor, a rabbi and a Jesuit — not the beginning of a joke, I promise — offered blessings in their respective faith traditions, along with a secular “Sí se puede!”
“Hospitality is a sacred act,” said Pastor Bridie Roberts of Hollywood United Methodist Church. “Think about the stories from the Gospel — the breaking of bread. The search for lodging in Bethlehem. These workers are ‘the least of these’ right now, so we need to champion them.”
A seven-hour drive awaited. Twelve cars, including a limousine with “25 Years Experience” on its side window, took off around 9 a.m.
As we went our separate ways, I thanked them for their hospitality. Someone should, at long last.
A $10 tip left under dirty linens just isn’t enough anymore.


latimes--2020-09-26--Can technology predict wildfires? New systems attempt to better forecast their spread

When freak lightning storms passed over Northern California ’ s wine country last month and sparked hundreds of wildfires , a newly established network of remote weather stations , orbiting satellites and supercomputers spun into action and attempted to predict the spread of what is now known as the LNU Lightning Complex fire .
Firefighters and technologists have long dreamed of a formula or device that would accurately predict the spread of fire , much the way meteorologists predict the possible impact of extreme weather , but it ’ s only recently that big data and supercomputers have begun to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forecasting .
“ I think a firefighter starting out today in his or her career , they ’ re going to see something to the point where they leave the [ station ] on the fire , they ’ ll have a simulation on their screen of where the fire is going to go , where they need to do evacuations , ” said Tim Chavez , a fire behavior analyst with Cal Fire since 2000 .
Past forecasts relied on huge assumptions about the landscape and upcoming weather , but today ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of remote weather stations , cameras and satellites merged with ground-level details on vegetation and moisture .
Now California firefighters and the state ’ s largest power utilities are hoping these networks will help them to better plan evacuations and more precisely target power shutoffs in times of emergency .
The technology Cal Fire uses , created by La Jolla-based Technosylva , was brought into the department in July under a three-year , $ 8.8-million contract and has yet to be fully rolled out across the agency , department spokeswoman Christine McMorrow said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ used by a handful of Cal Fire analysts who ran simulations of where the flames were expected to be eight hours later .
“ We did one for the LNU Complex and it did show a rapid rate of spread , ” McMorrow said , referring to what is now , at well over 360,000 acres burned , the fourth largest fire in state record books .
“ They are pleased with what they ’ re getting from it.
” The state ’ s big three electric utilities are also using the technology @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ran simulations of potential fires before shutting off power to circuits in Los Angeles and Kern counties .
A few weeks later , PG & E ran simulations of where the LNU Complex fire was headed before they decided to spray some 7,000 power poles with retardant .
When wind events are in the forecast , Edison , PG & E and San Diego Gas & Electric said their preemptive power shutdowns should affect about 30 % fewer people than they did last year , in part due to a better grasp of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Facing serious liability under California ’ s inverse-condemnation laws , utilities shut off sections of their grid on hot , windy days , when the equipment is most at risk of sparking a wildfire .
Last year , such power shutoffs led to millions of Californians going for days without electricity .
“ If the fuels data is good , if the weather data is good and the location is correct , our models provide a good ballpark , ” said Technosylva President Joaquin Ramirez .
“ It ’ s a young science @ @ @ @ @ @ @ right track.
” When the federally managed North Complex fire jumped a river and sped into Berry Creek on Sept. 8 , killing more than a dozen people , “ the spot fire moved 20 miles beyond all models identified , ” the fire ’ s incident commander , Jay Kurth , wrote in a public letter .
Similarly , when SDG & E tried to re-create simulations of large fires they experienced in 2003 and 2007 , Technosylva ’ s models were less extreme than what actually happened .
While the Technosylva @ @ @ @ @ @ @ competition , experts say the fundamental science behind predicting what a fire will do hasn ’ t changed , more or less , in half a century .
“ There ’ s really only one model that ’ s used for fire spread models — it ’ s the Rothermel model , ” said Chris Lautenberger , co-founder of fire spread modeling company Reax Engineering , which also holds a contract with PG & E .
“ Technosylva uses that , our model uses that .
So what differs from model to model @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are made.
” The Rothermel model is a mathematical equation established in 1972 by a former General Electric engineer to explain the rate of a fire ’ s spread .
It models ground fires in light brush and grass , and has become the foundation upon which most fire predictive models — from crown fires to fire spotting — were built .
“ My model has lasted through 50 years because it could do the work , ” Richard Rothermel , 90 , told The Times in a recent interview from his Montana @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is people expected it to do far more than it was designed to do.
” With that in mind , officials with all three utilities said that while they ’ re using fire spread modeling to inform their power shutoffs , it ’ s not the deciding factor .
“ If you ’ re looking for a dead-on representation of the footprint of that fire , it ’ s going to be off , ” said Edison ’ s fire scientist , Tom Rolinski .
“ It ’ s a model , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ don ’ t know where they ’ re wrong .
”

Flames burn near power lines in Sycamore Canyon in Montecito in 2017. Utilities are turning to computer modeling to predict where their equipment poses the greatest fire threat.
When freak lightning storms passed over Northern California’s wine country last month and sparked hundreds of wildfires, a newly established network of remote weather stations, orbiting satellites and supercomputers spun into action and attempted to predict the spread of what is now known as the LNU Lightning Complex fire.
Firefighters and technologists have long dreamed of a formula or device that would accurately predict the spread of fire, much the way meteorologists predict the possible impact of extreme weather, but it’s only recently that big data and supercomputers have begun to show promise as a means of fire forecasting.
“I think a firefighter starting out today in his or her career, they’re going to see something to the point where they leave the [station] on the fire, they’ll have a simulation on their screen of where the fire is going to go, where they need to do evacuations,” said Tim Chavez, a fire behavior analyst with Cal Fire since 2000.
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California Bobcat fire investigation includes Southern California Edison equipment The U.S. Forest Service is investigating a piece of the utility’s equipment that reported an incident about the time the Bobcat fire started near Cogswell Dam.
Past forecasts relied on huge assumptions about the landscape and upcoming weather, but today’s forecasts are based on a web of remote weather stations, cameras and satellites merged with ground-level details on vegetation and moisture. Now California firefighters and the state’s largest power utilities are hoping these networks will help them to better plan evacuations and more precisely target power shutoffs in times of emergency.
The technology Cal Fire uses, created by La Jolla-based Technosylva, was brought into the department in July under a three-year, $8.8-million contract and has yet to be fully rolled out across the agency, department spokeswoman Christine McMorrow said. But the program has already been used by a handful of Cal Fire analysts who ran simulations of where the flames were expected to be eight hours later.
“We did one for the LNU Complex and it did show a rapid rate of spread,” McMorrow said, referring to what is now, at well over 360,000 acres burned, the fourth largest fire in state record books. “They are pleased with what they’re getting from it.”
The state’s big three electric utilities are also using the technology.
In August, Edison said it ran simulations of potential fires before shutting off power to circuits in Los Angeles and Kern counties. A few weeks later, PG&E ran simulations of where the LNU Complex fire was headed before they decided to spray some 7,000 power poles with retardant.
Advertisement
When wind events are in the forecast, Edison, PG&E and San Diego Gas & Electric said their preemptive power shutdowns should affect about 30% fewer people than they did last year, in part due to a better grasp of where the fire threats are greatest.
Facing serious liability under California’s inverse-condemnation laws, utilities shut off sections of their grid on hot, windy days, when the equipment is most at risk of sparking a wildfire. Last year, such power shutoffs led to millions of Californians going for days without electricity.
“If the fuels data is good, if the weather data is good and the location is correct, our models provide a good ballpark,” said Technosylva President Joaquin Ramirez. “It’s a young science, but we’re on the right track.”
Difficulties remain in accurately predicting extreme fire behavior, however.
When the federally managed North Complex fire jumped a river and sped into Berry Creek on Sept. 8, killing more than a dozen people, “the spot fire moved 20 miles beyond all models identified,” the fire’s incident commander, Jay Kurth, wrote in a public letter.
Similarly, when SDG&E tried to re-create simulations of large fires they experienced in 2003 and 2007, Technosylva’s models were less extreme than what actually happened. While the Technosylva software uses data more refined than its competition, experts say the fundamental science behind predicting what a fire will do hasn’t changed, more or less, in half a century.
“There’s really only one model that’s used for fire spread models — it’s the Rothermel model,” said Chris Lautenberger, co-founder of fire spread modeling company Reax Engineering, which also holds a contract with PG&E. “Technosylva uses that, our model uses that. So what differs from model to model is more the assumptions and approximations that are made.”
The Rothermel model is a mathematical equation established in 1972 by a former General Electric engineer to explain the rate of a fire’s spread. It models ground fires in light brush and grass, and has become the foundation upon which most fire predictive models — from crown fires to fire spotting — were built.
“My model has lasted through 50 years because it could do the work,” Richard Rothermel, 90, told The Times in a recent interview from his Montana home. “Now, the problem is people expected it to do far more than it was designed to do.”
With that in mind, officials with all three utilities said that while they’re using fire spread modeling to inform their power shutoffs, it’s not the deciding factor.
“If you’re looking for a dead-on representation of the footprint of that fire, it’s going to be off,” said Edison’s fire scientist, Tom Rolinski. “It’s a model, and all models are wrong. We just don’t know where they’re wrong.”


latimes--2020-09-26--How do you go to the Los Angeles Public Library when COVID-19 has closed its buildings? It's easy, f

How do you go to the Los Angeles Public Library when COVID-19 has closed its buildings? It's easy, fun and surprisingly comforting

I ’ ve been library hopping this whole week long , exploring the rich offerings of the Los Angeles Public Library system .
I ’ ve been to free classes and events hosted by the Central Library and quite a few of the 72 branches spread out across the breadth of our city .
Through the library , I ’ ve joined in a book club , a writing class and a career day .
I ’ ve seen children read aloud to a dog .
I ’ ve learned from a master gardener how to turn the pages my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ seedlings .
I ’ ve heard people grapple with systemic racism in a learning circle focused on the New York Times ’ “ 1619 Project.
” I ’ ve watched volunteers helping people learn English explicate idioms : “ dog-tired , ” “ cloud nine , ” “ kick my butt.
” I ’ ve paid my visits while all the library system ’ s buildings have remained COVID-closed to the public — a physical absence that has hit people hard .
But I ’ ve discovered through my tour that as many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other ( virtual ) ones have opened , greatly extending the library ’ s reach .
I hope they ’ ll stay open even after the virus is vanquished .
If it weren ’ t for the digital divide — an enormous problem the library system is trying to do its small part to chip away at — and if it weren ’ t for how being in actual library buildings helps people , I ’ d have to say that our city ’ s public library system in this new time feels @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more accessible than ever .
So many of us like to visit our libraries to browse the bookshelves , to see what ’ s just arrived , to go hear a well-known author speak .
But for some in our city those buildings are an absolute lifeline — places for the isolated to find respectful , otherwise-absent human contact , for those without roofs over their heads to get respite from the outdoors as well as resources to help them and vital computer and internet access .
The virus has exposed much that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we don ’ t all have the technological resources the modern world all but requires .
At the same time , it has shone a light on just how extraordinary those resources can be if you do have them — how you can be alone anywhere in front of a screen and join a community as big as the world .
The library lists its ever-growing array of online classes and events on its homepage , and visitors from all over are partaking of them .
A few programs are restricted to people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ majority are not .
When a 6-year-old named Shreyovi joyfully half read , half sang “ One Fish , Two Fish , Red Fish , Blue Fish ” to a dog named Summer on Tuesday afternoon , Andy Howe , the Sun Valley branch children ’ s librarian , was running the weekly gathering from her home in Glendale .
The little boy was at his dining room table near Portland , Ore. , and Summer was lolling about on the grass in a backyard in Lake View Terrace .
Pre-pandemic , Summer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the weekly “ BARK : Read to the Dogs ” session .
The neighborhood children who read to her loved to pet her and comb her hair , which they were collecting to make something with , Howe told me .
But Shreyovi couldn ’ t have been part of it .
And neither could 7-year-old Tallay , who Zoomed in from Palm Desert to read about Grover from “ Sesame Street.
” It ’ s recently become possible to sit outside almost all the library system ’ s libraries to use the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. , though at first there were concerns that leaving it on might encourage people to congregate in ways that wouldn ’ t be safe .
It ’ s also possible now to go to an L.A. library to borrow materials , though you have to request them in advance and make an appointment to fetch them outside either the Central Library or one of the 19 branch libraries that offer the new pandemic-safe Library to Go service .
I spent several hours this week watching a steady @ @ @ @ @ @ @ parking lot of the Los Feliz branch to pick up what they ’ d reserved , delivered to them in brown paper bags .
In the space of 10 minutes , I met two novelists who were missing the indoor writing space .
I also learned from veteran librarian Pearl Yonezawa , who has run the very busy branch for 25 years , how different the library ’ s world is right now .
It ’ s not just the inability to stroll the aisles with a regular who wants to take out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what book .
It ’ s having to quarantine the books and videos that are returned before they ’ re handled , trying to reconfigure the space so it will be safe when the doors open again and managing with a much-reduced staff on site .
One-third of her staff is at home because of high risk or child-care issues .
Another one-third have been redeployed as city disaster service workers .
The children ’ s librarian , Diane Garcia , a new mother , is mostly working these days as a contact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in normal times , she ’ s happily busy all day with kids inside the library .
Before she began contact tracing , she told me , she used her emptier days to boost the branch ’ s social media pages , learn how to turn story times virtual and test out new ideas .
In July , with funding from the Friends of the Los Feliz Library , she created a story walk for neighborhood kids , who could follow a map on a flier to read page after page of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of local businesses .
Adult librarian Matthew Panzera told me about the oddness of transforming his popular monthly film screenings , which were mostly focused on the watching , into virtual ones in which people stream a movie on their own and come together not to watch it but to talk about it .
They and all the librarians I talked to this week told me that the pandemic has both tried them and fueled their creativity .
Librarians from different branches have come together to host programs .
Some have yet to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ staff , volunteers and visitors is one of the unexpected gifts of this new world born of necessity .
People who would never have met before are now meeting , albeit online .
For city residents , it ’ s no longer a traffic nightmare to attend a library event or class miles away .
That was part of what I loved about the “ Grow Your Own Food : Fall/Winter Garden ” program hosted by the John C. Fremont branch library on Wednesday afternoon .
On Zoom , I could see master @ @ @ @ @ @ @ purple sweet potato in her Venice front yard from my own home in Hollywood .
( I could also watch one of the other people watching Carvell as she trimmed artichokes in her kitchen . )
Participating in many different library programs is so easy now , and not just on Zoom , I learned from managing librarians Kelly Tyler , who oversees the literacy classes , and Madeleine Ildefonso , who directs the New Americans Initiative .
I talked to them last week when I was writing about Clemencia Isabel Morales , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through one of the initiative ’ s free citizenship classes .
Tyler ’ s purview includes the library ’ s Career Online High School , through which adults who live in or work for the city can earn a high school diploma and career certificate in a high-demand field .
That program was already web-based , but the literacy programs and the initiative ’ s services for immigrants weren ’ t .
Before the pandemic , students working on their English or citizenship met in person at libraries with volunteers , some in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Now they ’ re getting together in whatever ways work , including on the phone , on WhatsApp , on Facetime .
Some of my favorite moments this week were in the literacy classes .
I heard so many different accents .
I glimpsed so many different living rooms and bedrooms .
I saw people standing outside to take the classes in breaks at work .
I heard one woman promise to make her on-screen classmates Persian rice one day when they could actually meet in person .
I felt freshly smitten @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kept seeing the same people in class after class .
One was Hande Guzey of Istanbul , all alone in this big metropolis she moved to just two years ago .
She ’ s out of work .
Her substitute teaching jobs dried up when the virus hit .
She ’ s trying to take advantage of her unasked-for free time .
She used to take one weekly conversation class at the Fairfax branch .
Now , she takes hour after hour of classes , taught by people from all over the city @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the chat room how students were enjoying the virtual library .
“ Hi Nita , Zoom classes took away our loneliness , ” Guzey wrote .
Like me , she said , she hopes they ’ ll stick around even after we once again have other choices .

Bronwen Serna drops off books outside the Los Feliz branch of the Los Angeles Public Library on Thursday. At this “library to go,” residents can requests books and reserve a time to pick them up outside the branch.
I’ve been library hopping this whole week long, exploring the rich offerings of the Los Angeles Public Library system. I’ve been to free classes and events hosted by the Central Library and quite a few of the 72 branches spread out across the breadth of our city.
Through the library, I’ve joined in a book club, a writing class and a career day. I’ve seen children read aloud to a dog. I’ve learned from a master gardener how to turn the pages my columns are printed on into pots for seedlings. I’ve heard people grapple with systemic racism in a learning circle focused on the New York Times’ “1619 Project.” I’ve watched volunteers helping people learn English explicate idioms: “dog-tired,” “cloud nine,” “kick my butt.”
I’ve paid my visits while all the library system’s buildings have remained COVID-closed to the public — a physical absence that has hit people hard.
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But I’ve discovered through my tour that as many (real) doors have closed, other (virtual) ones have opened, greatly extending the library’s reach. I hope they’ll stay open even after the virus is vanquished.
If it weren’t for the digital divide — an enormous problem the library system is trying to do its small part to chip away at — and if it weren’t for how being in actual library buildings helps people, I’d have to say that our city’s public library system in this new time feels in some very profound ways warmer and more accessible than ever.
So many of us like to visit our libraries to browse the bookshelves, to see what’s just arrived, to go hear a well-known author speak. But for some in our city those buildings are an absolute lifeline — places for the isolated to find respectful, otherwise-absent human contact, for those without roofs over their heads to get respite from the outdoors as well as resources to help them and vital computer and internet access.
The virus has exposed much that is unfair in society — including that we don’t all have the technological resources the modern world all but requires.
At the same time, it has shone a light on just how extraordinary those resources can be if you do have them — how you can be alone anywhere in front of a screen and join a community as big as the world.
The library lists its ever-growing array of online classes and events on its homepage, and visitors from all over are partaking of them. A few programs are restricted to people in the area, but the vast majority are not. When a 5-year-old named Shreyovi joyfully half read, half sang “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” to a dog named Summer on Tuesday afternoon, Andy Howe, the Sun Valley branch children’s librarian, was running the weekly gathering from her home in Glendale. The little girl was at her dining room table near Portland, Ore., and Summer was lolling about on the grass in a backyard in Lake View Terrace.
Pre-pandemic, Summer would have come to the library for the weekly “BARK: Read to the Dogs” session. The neighborhood children who read to her loved to pet her and comb her hair, which they were collecting to make something with, Howe told me. But Shreyovi couldn’t have been part of it. And neither could 7-year-old Tallay, who Zoomed in from Palm Desert to read about Grover from “Sesame Street.”
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It’s recently become possible to sit outside almost all the library system’s libraries to use the free Wi-Fi six days a week, from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., though at first there were concerns that leaving it on might encourage people to congregate in ways that wouldn’t be safe.
It’s also possible now to go to an L.A. library to borrow materials, though you have to request them in advance and make an appointment to fetch them outside either the Central Library or one of the 19 branch libraries that offer the new pandemic-safe Library to Go service.
I spent several hours this week watching a steady stream of masked borrowers arrive in the parking lot of the Los Feliz branch to pick up what they’d reserved, delivered to them in brown paper bags. In the space of 10 minutes, I met two novelists who were missing the indoor writing space.
I also learned from veteran librarian Pearl Yonezawa, who has run the very busy branch for 25 years, how different the library’s world is right now. It’s not just the inability to stroll the aisles with a regular who wants to take out a book but doesn’t know what book.
It’s having to quarantine the books and videos that are returned before they’re handled, trying to reconfigure the space so it will be safe when the doors open again and managing with a much-reduced staff on site. One-third of her staff is at home because of high risk or child-care issues. Another one-third have been redeployed as city disaster service workers. The children’s librarian, Diane Garcia, a new mother, is mostly working these days as a contact tracer.
Garcia told me that, in normal times, she’s happily busy all day with kids inside the library. Before she began contact tracing, she told me, she used her emptier days to boost the branch’s social media pages, learn how to turn story times virtual and test out new ideas. In July, with funding from the Friends of the Los Feliz Library, she created a story walk for neighborhood kids, who could follow a map on a flier to read page after page of a picture book, displayed in the windows of local businesses.
Adult librarian Matthew Panzera told me about the oddness of transforming his popular monthly film screenings, which were mostly focused on the watching, into virtual ones in which people stream a movie on their own and come together not to watch it but to talk about it.
They and all the librarians I talked to this week told me that the pandemic has both tried them and fueled their creativity. Librarians from different branches have come together to host programs. Some have yet to meet in person.
That cross-pollination of staff, volunteers and visitors is one of the unexpected gifts of this new world born of necessity. People who would never have met before are now meeting, albeit online.
For city residents, it’s no longer a traffic nightmare to attend a library event or class miles away. That was part of what I loved about the “Grow Your Own Food: Fall/Winter Garden” program hosted by the John C. Fremont branch library on Wednesday afternoon. On Zoom, I could see master gardener Emi Carvell cut into a gorgeous purple sweet potato in her Venice front yard from my own home in Hollywood. (I could also watch one of the other people watching Carvell as she trimmed artichokes in her kitchen.)
Participating in many different library programs is so easy now, and not just on Zoom, I learned from managing librarians Kelly Tyler, who oversees the literacy classes, and Madeleine Ildefonso, who directs the New Americans Initiative. I talked to them last week when I was writing about Clemencia Isabel Morales, who prepared to become an American citizen through one of the initiative’s free citizenship classes.
Tyler’s purview includes the library’s Career Online High School, through which adults who live in or work for the city can earn a high school diploma and career certificate in a high-demand field. That program was already web-based, but the literacy programs and the initiative’s services for immigrants weren’t. Before the pandemic, students working on their English or citizenship met in person at libraries with volunteers, some in one-on-one sessions, some in group classes. Now they’re getting together in whatever ways work, including on the phone, on WhatsApp, on Facetime.
Some of my favorite moments this week were in the literacy classes. I heard so many different accents. I glimpsed so many different living rooms and bedrooms. I saw people standing outside to take the classes in breaks at work. I heard one woman promise to make her on-screen classmates Persian rice one day when they could actually meet in person. I felt freshly smitten with our many-splendored city.
I also kept seeing the same people in class after class. One was Hande Guzey of Istanbul, all alone in this big metropolis she moved to just two years ago. She’s out of work. Her substitute teaching jobs dried up when the virus hit. She’s trying to take advantage of her unasked-for free time. She used to take one weekly conversation class at the Fairfax branch. Now, she takes hour after hour of classes, taught by people from all over the city.
In one class, I asked in the chat room how students were enjoying the virtual library.
“Hi Nita, Zoom classes took away our loneliness,” Guzey wrote. Like me, she said, she hopes they’ll stick around even after we once again have other choices.


latimes--2020-09-26--Inside the epic battle to save Mt. Wilson Observatory from the Bobcat fire

It was a week into the Bobcat fire and 300-foot flames were lapping at the historic Mt .
Wilson Observatory .
This was the moment firefighters and observatory officials had been fearing : the fire striking a direct blow to the complex .
Glowing red embers chewed through brush and trees , and thick smoke billowed into dark skies typically reserved for stargazing .
“ It was gaining a flame-front we couldn ’ t manage , ” said Oscar Vargas , division chief for the Angeles National Forest .
“ One that could destroy the observatory.
” Vargas described an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he and more than 100 firefighters moved into position atop the hill to try to save the famed site .
“ It was intense , ” he said .
“ We ’ d have to hold the lines when we could , back out when it was too hot , then jump back in with hoses and helicopters to mop the flames down and prevent the loss of structures.
” The Bobcat fire ’ s path of destruction began Sept. 6 .
It quickly overtook a vast swath of the Angeles National Forest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ near the foothill neighborhoods of the San Gabriel Valley and spreading all the way to the desert communities of the Antelope Valley , where dozens of structures have been damaged or destroyed .
But among the biggest worries of the blaze — now one of the largest in Los Angeles County history — has been Mt .
Wilson , which repeatedly has come under threat from the fire .
Considered one of the cradles of astronomy , the observatory was founded in 1904 by George Ellery Hale .
When the 100-inch Hooker telescope @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , 1917 , it overtook its 60-inch neighbor and became the largest telescope in the world — a position it held for more than three decades .
On the night of Sept. 15 , flames came within just 5 feet of the storied structure .
“ It sounded like a train , or a jet engine , ” Vargas said of the aggressive blaze .
“ The way the fire was spreading through the trees and all the brush — it was like an intense sizzling , cracking and popping.
” The battle @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a week , during which time smoke from the fire cast an ominous pall across much of Los Angeles County and contributed to air quality so poor that people were advised to stay inside with their doors and windows shut .
Thomas Meneghini , the observatory ’ s executive director , waited with bated breath , fearing the worst .
“ Our stuff is priceless , it ’ s irreplaceable , ” Meneghini said .
“ There ’ s no monetary value you could put on these items.
” It was not the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ threat from wildfires .
In 2009 , the fight against the sprawling Station fire lasted five days and four nights , but ultimately the buildings perched atop the 5,710-foot mountain were saved .
The most recent battle serves as another reminder of how much is at stake there .
“ We ’ ve been making a stand at Mt .
Wilson , ” L.A. County Fire Department Capt .
Dave Gillotte said .
“ Half the time is very intense , and half the time is preparing for it to be very intense.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ way for a chance at victory .
A week later , the once-roaring hillside was quiet , and the observatory had emerged unscathed .
Vargas credited tireless fire crews and a decade ’ s worth of fuel-reduction work — including the removal of hazardous dry brush and vegetation from the surrounding forest — in helping prevent destruction .
“ The work we ’ ve done in the last 10 years paid off big time , ” he said .
“ We had done several hundred acres of fuel treatment , so that helped @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mother Nature also offered an assist , as temperatures cooled slightly after the initial firefight , the humidity increased and winds died down .
“ The weather finally cooperated , ” Gillotte said , standing atop the now-smoldering hillside .
“ We were finally able to see the fire and to get to the fire.
” Meneghini said the observatory ’ s structures suffered little damage , save for a bit of scorched wiring .
“ I actually got to sleep at a decent hour last night , ” he said Thursday , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the evasive blaze .
A lingering smell of smoke and thousands of feet of hose lines snaking across the property are among the remnants of the battle .
And while the fire ’ s containment numbers continue to increase , the rugged landscape atop Mt .
Wilson will be marked by the Bobcat fire for some time : Bright pink fire retardant dropped by aerial crews now paints a technicolor dreamscape across rocks , roadways and burned trees .
But fire crews aren ’ t out of the woods yet .
About @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Highway 2 and Mt .
Wilson Red Box Road , thick smoke settled in midweek like a blanket over the valley .
“ There are still a lot of variables at play , ” said L.A. County Fire Department spokesman Pono Barnes , who was stationed at the intersection .
“ Right now , we ’ re looking at wind , fuels and topographical features.
” Although progress on the blaze — which is more than 50 % contained — has been substantial , Barnes said , if the wind changes , there @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
With roads still closed to visitors , the world inside the national forest alternates between the peaceful silence of nature and the vibrating whir of helicopters , still dropping water and retardant into the smoky brush below .
There are other reminders of the fire ’ s wrath : Entire hillsides dotted with once-great pines now stand like blackened toothpicks , a symbol of what has become the .
Yellow hardhats bobbed up and down as firefighters cleared their way , one step at a time , through thick vegetation , looking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as they continued to secure the forest .
But Mt .
Wilson is safe — at least for now .

L.A. County Fire Department Capt. Dave Gillotte and his team fought the Bobcat fire, which approached Mt. Wilson from three directions.
It was a week into the Bobcat fire and 300-foot flames were lapping at the historic Mt. Wilson Observatory.
This was the moment firefighters and observatory officials had been fearing: the fire striking a direct blow to the complex. Glowing red embers chewed through brush and trees, and thick smoke billowed into dark skies typically reserved for stargazing.
“It was gaining a flame-front we couldn’t manage,” said Oscar Vargas, division chief for the Angeles National Forest. “One that could destroy the observatory.”
Vargas described an infernal scene of smoke and heat as he and more than 100 firefighters moved into position atop the hill to try to save the famed site.
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“It was intense,” he said. “We’d have to hold the lines when we could, back out when it was too hot, then jump back in with hoses and helicopters to mop the flames down and prevent the loss of structures.”
The Bobcat fire’s path of destruction began Sept. 6. It quickly overtook a vast swath of the Angeles National Forest, charring hundreds of thousands of acres near the foothill neighborhoods of the San Gabriel Valley and spreading all the way to the desert communities of the Antelope Valley, where dozens of structures have been damaged or destroyed.
But among the biggest worries of the blaze — now one of the largest in Los Angeles County history — has been Mt. Wilson, which repeatedly has come under threat from the fire.
Fire equipment is deployed at the historic Mt. Wilson Observatory, where nearby transmission towers have been threatened by the Bobcat fire. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
Considered one of the cradles of astronomy, the observatory was founded in 1904 by George Ellery Hale. When the 100-inch Hooker telescope gathered its first light on Nov. 1, 1917, it overtook its 60-inch neighbor and became the largest telescope in the world — a position it held for more than three decades.
On the night of Sept. 15, flames came within just 5 feet of the storied structure.
“It sounded like a train, or a jet engine,” Vargas said of the aggressive blaze. “The way the fire was spreading through the trees and all the brush — it was like an intense sizzling, cracking and popping.”
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The battle would last for the better part of a week, during which time smoke from the fire cast an ominous pall across much of Los Angeles County and contributed to air quality so poor that people were advised to stay inside with their doors and windows shut.
Thomas Meneghini, the observatory’s executive director, waited with bated breath, fearing the worst.
“Our stuff is priceless, it’s irreplaceable,” Meneghini said. “There’s no monetary value you could put on these items.”
It was not the first time the observatory had come under threat from wildfires. In 2009, the fight against the sprawling Station fire lasted five days and four nights, but ultimately the buildings perched atop the 5,710-foot mountain were saved.
The most recent battle serves as another reminder of how much is at stake there.
“We’ve been making a stand at Mt. Wilson,” L.A. County Fire Department Capt. Dave Gillotte said. “Half the time is very intense, and half the time is preparing for it to be very intense.”
And that preparation helped pave the way for a chance at victory. A week later, the once-roaring hillside was quiet, and the observatory had emerged unscathed.
Vargas credited tireless fire crews and a decade’s worth of fuel-reduction work — including the removal of hazardous dry brush and vegetation from the surrounding forest — in helping prevent destruction.
“The work we’ve done in the last 10 years paid off big time,” he said. “We had done several hundred acres of fuel treatment, so that helped defend and save Mt. Wilson.”
Mother Nature also offered an assist, as temperatures cooled slightly after the initial firefight, the humidity increased and winds died down.
“The weather finally cooperated,” Gillotte said, standing atop the now-smoldering hillside. “We were finally able to see the fire and to get to the fire.”
Meneghini said the observatory’s structures suffered little damage, save for a bit of scorched wiring.
“I actually got to sleep at a decent hour last night,” he said Thursday, a day after crews turned a corner on the evasive blaze.
A lingering smell of smoke and thousands of feet of hose lines snaking across the property are among the remnants of the battle.
And while the fire’s containment numbers continue to increase, the rugged landscape atop Mt. Wilson will be marked by the Bobcat fire for some time: Bright pink fire retardant dropped by aerial crews now paints a technicolor dreamscape across rocks, roadways and burned trees.
Brush burns in the distance as seen from the Mt. Wilson Observatory, framed by vegetation covered in pink fire retardant. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
But fire crews aren’t out of the woods yet. About five miles below the observatory, at Highway 2 and Mt. Wilson Red Box Road, thick smoke settled in midweek like a blanket over the valley.
“There are still a lot of variables at play,” said L.A. County Fire Department spokesman Pono Barnes, who was stationed at the intersection. “Right now, we’re looking at wind, fuels and topographical features.”
Although progress on the blaze — which is more than 50% contained — has been substantial, Barnes said, if the wind changes, there is “significant potential” for reignition.
With roads still closed to visitors, the world inside the national forest alternates between the peaceful silence of nature and the vibrating whir of helicopters, still dropping water and retardant into the smoky brush below.
There are other reminders of the fire’s wrath: Entire hillsides dotted with once-great pines now stand like blackened toothpicks, a symbol of what has become the worst wildfire season in California history .
Yellow hardhats bobbed up and down as firefighters cleared their way, one step at a time, through thick vegetation, looking small under the vast expanse of sky as they continued to secure the forest.
But Mt. Wilson is safe — at least for now.