latimes--2020-07-26--They made a home under L.A.'s freeways. But soon they could be forced to move

The 105 Freeway roared overhead as homeless outreach worker Daniel Ornelas knelt to speak with Genia Hope .
Hope ’ s home has been , for years , a sprawling complex of tents beside a tangle of freeways in southeast Los Angeles County .
Like many homeless people , she has chosen to live under or near a freeway because it affords some measure of safety compared with other spots where homeless people bed down .
A rusted elephant trinket stood guard outside her tarps and tent , and inside she lounged on a black leather couch , smoking a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hope raised her now-grown children in Apple Valley and later followed a man to Bellflower .
She lost her job at a rehab facility and then , after her partner died , grief , anxiety and struggles with addiction led her to the street .
Now , it looked as if Ornelas might just be able to help her .
The COVID-19 pandemic has opened up a wealth of resources to help get people off the streets , and a recent order from a federal judge will unlock even more .
But efforts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to be complicated by a shortage of available shelter and fighting among government entities about how best to carry out the judge ’ s wishes .
Hope told Ornelas that living beside this freeway underpass , just off a bike bath that snakes along the Los Angeles River , was optimal .
Police rarely hassled her here , and she had plenty of space to be alone .
An on-again , off-again love interest lived nearby , and her homeless neighbors formed a supportive community .
One neighbor brought her some lunch and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the outreach worker .
Ornelas asked if she would consider going to a shelter or to a trailer .
Those were nonstarters .
The first was too dangerous , the second too cramped , she said .
How about a temporary setup in a hotel , he asked .
She jumped at the offer , excited at the prospect of getting to take a bath and sleep in a bed .
Her matted blond hair needed washing , she said .
It would be ideal if her boyfriend could join her — at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we could be at the same hotel and in separate rooms , that would be great , ” she said .
“ Sometimes we just need a break from each other.
” A government program known as Project Roomkey , which aims to rent motel and hotel rooms for homeless people , has fallen short of its goals locally but still has vastly expanded the number of rooms available to homeless people vulnerable to COVID-19 .
As a result , Ornelas was able to quickly whisk Hope off the street .
Like many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s swelling homeless population , he pays special attention to the underpasses and embankments near freeways .
Those areas became a subject of great interest and conflict after U.S. District Judge David O. Carter ordered city and county officials to provide space in shelters or alternative housing for residents living near freeway overpasses , underpasses and ramps .
Once there is enough shelter , the agreement could pave the way for law enforcement to enforce anti-camping ordinances .
The order came during proceedings for a lawsuit Carter has been presiding over since March @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for Human Rights sued public agencies across the county , accusing them of allowing unsafe and inhumane conditions in homeless camps .
Carter ’ s focus on the areas around freeways took many homeless advocates and government officials by surprise .
Many who could be forced to move said they were leery of going into temporary shelters , tiny prefab houses or sanctioned camping sites , because they felt confined by rules that prevented them from leaving after certain hours and put them in shared spaces that they would otherwise avoid .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ go next — the homeless service providers and outreach workers— say that the order will lead to needless confrontation between law enforcement and people living on the streets .
They also say politicians ’ attempts to comply with the judge ’ s desires focus far too much on interim housing options and will come at the expense of more permanent solutions .
In addition , homeless service providers and officials from the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority are feeling their resources and time stretched to the limit as they try to care for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ put them at elevated risk of dying from the novel coronavirus .
They say that fulfilling the order will distract from keeping the most vulnerable alive .
“ You know , even if this wasn ’ t within the time of COVID , I ’ d be frustrated , ” said Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority Executive Director Heidi Marston .
“ But I think that a lot of my frustration comes from the fact that we ’ re in the middle of a global pandemic , and it just doesn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be looking at right now as a response.
” LAHSA recently announced an $ 800-million plan to house Los Angeles County ’ s homeless people who are most vulnerable to the disease .
Marston said an approach that focused too narrowly on where people lived as opposed to what their health condition was could attract more people to theunderpasses as they heard that more resources would be provided to people living under freeways .
There are an estimated 6,000 to 7,000 homeless people living near freeways in Los Angeles County .
Marston and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out of a process that will be influential in determining who gets help and who doesn ’ t .
“ We ’ re the lead of the homeless system and we ’ re the lead for a reason , because you need experts to be doing the work , ” Marston said .
“ Our expertise and our experience should be pulled on and relied on to help get us to the best place possible.
” The county will pay the city $ 53 million this year and $ 60 million a year @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fund services for the 6,000 new beds that the city has agreed to create over the next 18 months .
The beds can also be used for people who are over 65 and who are medically vulnerable , but Carter , who declined to comment for this story , has focused his efforts on getting city council members to identify large encampments under freeways in their districts and offer solutions for how they might move those individuals .
He has encouraged them to seek out interim housing that could immediately ease the crisis @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , each member of the Los Angeles City Council did just that , submitting plans for how they will help move people living near freeways in their districts .
The plans include “ interim housing , ” according to court documents , meaning an expansion of the temporary shelters set up by the city in recent years .
They would also include the construction of single-room prefabricated homes , as well as many more sanctioned parking lots where people can stay in their cars , and permitted sites where those with tents can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ plans would also include the continued use of motels , hotels and state trailers along with rental assistance subsidies .
“ This is why the judge and I said , you know what ?
We ’ re going to get along , ” said L.A. Councilman Joe Buscaino .
“ We need to create these tools to bring and restore order in our streets and move people through a system that has multiple options for that.
” Court documents show that each district plan so far is focused predominantly on interim housing options @ @ @ @ @ @ @ homes .
The plans are far from fleshed out , but the city estimates that it will cost about $ 50 million to build the interim housing that ’ s proposed .
Another $ 25 million would be spent to operate the facilities .
And $ 5 million would be spent on setting up and running lots for homeless people to stay in cars .
In recent weeks , the City Council has proposed and Mayor Eric Garcetti has approved setting aside $ 100 million that the city received in coronavirus relief funding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ plans .
By the end of the year , the city expects to have 700 new interim housing beds , 500 more hotel/motel rooms leased and 575 new safe parking spots , according to court documents .
City officials don ’ t yet have an estimate for how much more they would spend on responses such as rapid rehousing , which offers short-term rental assistance and services to those in need , but they hope to give Carter a more detailed set of plans by early August .
In recent weeks , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ services organizations wrote a letter to the City Council , decrying the strategy put forward by the court and city .
The focus on interim housing and the freeways would not lift people out of homelessness , they said .
“ The city ’ s aggressive plan is not philosophically aligned with L.A. ’ s current homeless services delivery system , and the plan is in no way guaranteed to be faster or more effective than the alternative plan we are proposing here , ” the signatories wrote .
In the letter , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they detailed how they had quickly surveyed their agencies and found nearly 3,500 housing units that could either be rented or acquired .
Channeling funds toward filling those units with vulnerable Angelenos would be far better , they said .
“ Large agencies like ours should be at the table from the start , weighing in .
It ’ s frustrating , ” said Va Lecia Adams Kellum , who signed the letter and is the president and chief executive of St. Joseph ’ s Center , which coordinates many of the homeless @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Westside .
She was heartened to see that the City Council did intend to focus some efforts on rapid rehousing and using motels .
But Adams Kellum and others said that although having interim housing such as temporary shelters was necessary , moving people without solving their homelessness just kicks the can down the road .
In interviews with dozens of homeless people , outreach workers and government officials , The Times found that a specific set of reasons drew people to congregate under freeway underpasses .
Homeless people say they are safer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ housed neighbors when they congregate near the freeway .
“ You ’ re not in anyone ’ s yard , so the police won ’ t hassle you here , ” said Jesse James Taylor , who is homeless and lives under the 10 freeway along Venice Boulevard in Mid-City .
Farther west , under the 10 near Pico Boulevard and Bundy Drive , George Grasso stood shirtless as outreach workers attempted to find out if he was interested in leaving his tent .
Blaring traffic stilted the conversation and a red bandanna @ @ @ @ @ @ @ difficult to understand what he had to say .
Grasso wanted to be able to smoke marijuana , which he ’ s prohibited from possessing inside the shelters and motels that are part of Project Roomkey .
He wants a permanent housing solution but sought out this spot more than two years ago for several reasons .
On a hot or rainy day , he said , the protection from the elements is a huge relief .
Similarly , he added that if he were to set up his tent a few blocks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ homeowners would be all over him .
“ The neighbors will call the cops on you .
The cops will be there every day , ” he said .
“ Here they give us very little trouble .
I really don ’ t even go anywhere .
There ’ s too much to look after.
” The shelters , he hears , are far less safe than his current situation .
In North Hollywood , passing traffic punctuated by beeping from oncoming cars offered a symphony of sorts as Michael Cooper , his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , seemingly in search of something .
A mop of blond hair hung over his eyes and Coke-bottle glasses sat on the tip of his nose .
The 59-year-old said he had graduated from USC and had been homeless for a long time .
Recently , though , his prospects were looking up .
After months of waiting , he had secured a room in a single room occupancy hotel downtown and he was moving in that week .
His spot under the 134 Freeway in North Hollywood had long been a refuge @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and he was a “ little more invisible here , ” he said .
“ That ’ s a lot of people they ’ re going to have to move .
It ’ s going to be hard , ” he said as he grabbed his backpack to head to the bus and his new home .
“ I think it ’ s a reach to say it ’ s for the best interest of the homeless people .
”

The 105 Freeway roared overhead as homeless outreach worker Daniel Ornelas knelt to speak with Genia Hope.
Hope’s home has been, for years, a sprawling complex of tents beside a tangle of freeways in southeast Los Angeles County. Like many homeless people, she has chosen to live under or near a freeway because it affords some measure of safety compared with other spots where homeless people bed down.
A rusted elephant trinket stood guard outside her tarps and tent, and inside she lounged on a black leather couch, smoking a cigarette alongside a rack of clothing.
Genia Hope inside her encampment near the 105 and 710 freeways in Downey. Hope has been homeless for the last 10 years. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
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Hope raised her now-grown children in Apple Valley and later followed a man to Bellflower. She lost her job at a rehab facility and then, after her partner died, grief, anxiety and struggles with addiction led her to the street.
L.A. Homeless Services Authority worker Shane True tries to persuade Genia Hope to leave her encampment for a hotel room provided by Project Roomkey. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Now, it looked as if Ornelas might just be able to help her. The COVID-19 pandemic has opened up a wealth of resources to help get people off the streets, and a recent order from a federal judge will unlock even more. But efforts to aid people like Hope are going to be complicated by a shortage of available shelter and fighting among government entities about how best to carry out the judge’s wishes.
Hope told Ornelas that living beside this freeway underpass, just off a bike bath that snakes along the Los Angeles River, was optimal. Police rarely hassled her here, and she had plenty of space to be alone. An on-again, off-again love interest lived nearby, and her homeless neighbors formed a supportive community.
One neighbor brought her some lunch and a strawberry slushie as she spoke with the outreach worker.
LAHSA outreach workers Dan Ornelas, left, and Shane True talk with Genia Hope. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Ornelas asked if she would consider going to a shelter or to a trailer. Those were nonstarters. The first was too dangerous, the second too cramped, she said. How about a temporary setup in a hotel, he asked.
She jumped at the offer, excited at the prospect of getting to take a bath and sleep in a bed. Her matted blond hair needed washing, she said. It would be ideal if her boyfriend could join her — at arm’s length.
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“If we could be at the same hotel and in separate rooms, that would be great,” she said. “Sometimes we just need a break from each other.”
Genia Hope appears elated with her new hotel room in Whittier provided by Project Roomkey. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Hope moves into her new room at a hotel. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
A government program known as Project Roomkey, which aims to rent motel and hotel rooms for homeless people, has fallen short of its goals locally but still has vastly expanded the number of rooms available to homeless people vulnerable to COVID-19. As a result, Ornelas was able to quickly whisk Hope off the street. Like many outreach workers who serve the county’s swelling homeless population, he pays special attention to the underpasses and embankments near freeways.
Those areas became a subject of great interest and conflict after U.S. District Judge David O. Carter ordered city and county officials to provide space in shelters or alternative housing for residents living near freeway overpasses, underpasses and ramps. Once there is enough shelter, the agreement could pave the way for law enforcement to enforce anti-camping ordinances.
The order came during proceedings for a lawsuit Carter has been presiding over since March, when the advocacy group L.A. Alliance for Human Rights sued public agencies across the county, accusing them of allowing unsafe and inhumane conditions in homeless camps. Carter’s focus on the areas around freeways took many homeless advocates and government officials by surprise.
California L.A. falls far short of COVID-19 promise to house 15,000 homeless people in hotels An ambitious Los Angeles County plan to lease hotel and motel rooms for 15,000 medically vulnerable homeless people is falling far short of its goal and may never provide rooms for more than a third of the intended population.
Many who could be forced to move said they were leery of going into temporary shelters, tiny prefab houses or sanctioned camping sites, because they felt confined by rules that prevented them from leaving after certain hours and put them in shared spaces that they would otherwise avoid.
And those coordinating where people living near freeways go next — the homeless service providers and outreach workers— say that the order will lead to needless confrontation between law enforcement and people living on the streets. They also say politicians’ attempts to comply with the judge’s desires focus far too much on interim housing options and will come at the expense of more permanent solutions.
LASHA outreach workers Jose Gutierrez, left, and Alex Jung bring food for Greg Luckhart and others living under the 605 Freeway in Arcadia. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
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In addition, homeless service providers and officials from the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority are feeling their resources and time stretched to the limit as they try to care for a population rife with preexisting conditions that put them at elevated risk of dying from the novel coronavirus. They say that fulfilling the order will distract from keeping the most vulnerable alive.
“You know, even if this wasn’t within the time of COVID, I’d be frustrated,” said Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority Executive Director Heidi Marston.
“But I think that a lot of my frustration comes from the fact that we’re in the middle of a global pandemic, and it just doesn’t feel consistent with what we need to be looking at right now as a response.”
Ramona Gutierrez, 68, stands near her encampment under the 605 Freeway in Arcadia. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Peggy Repreza, 55, in the homeless encampment she shares with her ex-husband and son under the 134 Freeway in North Hollywood. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
LAHSA recently announced an $800-million plan to house Los Angeles County’s homeless people who are most vulnerable to the disease. Marston said an approach that focused too narrowly on where people lived as opposed to what their health condition was could attract more people to theunderpasses as they heard that more resources would be provided to people living under freeways.
There are an estimated 6,000 to 7,000 homeless people living near freeways in Los Angeles County. Marston and other homeless care providers have felt cut out of a process that will be influential in determining who gets help and who doesn’t.
“We’re the lead of the homeless system and we’re the lead for a reason, because you need experts to be doing the work,” Marston said. “Our expertise and our experience should be pulled on and relied on to help get us to the best place possible.”
Kim Barnett, interim associate director of the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority, takes food to a person who lives in a tent along the 105 Freeway in Downey. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
The county will pay the city $53 million this year and $60 million a year for the following four years to help fund services for the 6,000 new beds that the city has agreed to create over the next 18 months.
The beds can also be used for people who are over 65 and who are medically vulnerable, but Carter, who declined to comment for this story, has focused his efforts on getting city council members to identify large encampments under freeways in their districts and offer solutions for how they might move those individuals. He has encouraged them to seek out interim housing that could immediately ease the crisis on the street.
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“We’re the lead of the homeless system and we’re the lead for a reason, because you need experts to be doing the work.” — Heidi Marston, Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority Executive Director
Earlier this month, each member of the Los Angeles City Council did just that, submitting plans for how they will help move people living near freeways in their districts. The plans include “interim housing,” according to court documents, meaning an expansion of the temporary shelters set up by the city in recent years. They would also include the construction of single-room prefabricated homes, as well as many more sanctioned parking lots where people can stay in their cars, and permitted sites where those with tents can bed down for the night.
The plans would also include the continued use of motels, hotels and state trailers along with rental assistance subsidies.
Outreach workers. from right, John Oliver, Jimmy Vasquez and Kim Barnett check on homeless encampments along the 710 in Bell Gardens. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
“This is why the judge and I said, you know what? We’re going to get along,” said L.A. Councilman Joe Buscaino.
“We need to create these tools to bring and restore order in our streets and move people through a system that has multiple options for that.”
Court documents show that each district plan so far is focused predominantly on interim housing options, including safe parking sites and modular homes. The plans are far from fleshed out, but the city estimates that it will cost about $50 million to build the interim housing that’s proposed. Another $25 million would be spent to operate the facilities.
And $5 million would be spent on setting up and running lots for homeless people to stay in cars.
A banner depicting former presidential candidate Andrew Yang on a $1,000 bill provides shelter in an encampment under the 134 Freeway. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
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In recent weeks, the City Council has proposed and Mayor Eric Garcetti has approved setting aside $100 million that the city received in coronavirus relief funding from the federal government to execute these plans. By the end of the year, the city expects to have 700 new interim housing beds, 500 more hotel/motel rooms leased and 575 new safe parking spots, according to court documents.
City officials don’t yet have an estimate for how much more they would spend on responses such as rapid rehousing, which offers short-term rental assistance and services to those in need, but they hope to give Carter a more detailed set of plans by early August.
In recent weeks, the heads of the five most influential homeless services organizations wrote a letter to the City Council, decrying the strategy put forward by the court and city. The focus on interim housing and the freeways would not lift people out of homelessness, they said.
“The city’s aggressive plan is not philosophically aligned with L.A.’s current homeless services delivery system, and the plan is in no way guaranteed to be faster or more effective than the alternative plan we are proposing here,” the signatories wrote.
LAHSA outreach worker John Oliver, right, talks with Carlos Aguirre, who lives in an encampment along the 710 Freeway in Bell Gardens. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
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At left, outreach worker John Oliver helps Carlos Aguirre move his belongings to a Whittier hotel. At right, Oliver gives Aguirre a congratulatory elbow bump. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
In the letter, which was obtained by The Times, they detailed how they had quickly surveyed their agencies and found nearly 3,500 housing units that could either be rented or acquired. Channeling funds toward filling those units with vulnerable Angelenos would be far better, they said.
“Large agencies like ours should be at the table from the start, weighing in. It’s frustrating,” said Va Lecia Adams Kellum, who signed the letter and is the president and chief executive of St. Joseph’s Center, which coordinates many of the homeless services on Los Angeles County’s Westside.
She was heartened to see that the City Council did intend to focus some efforts on rapid rehousing and using motels. But Adams Kellum and others said that although having interim housing such as temporary shelters was necessary, moving people without solving their homelessness just kicks the can down the road.
Read the full letter from homeless services leaders to Los Angeles City Council Last week, the heads of the five most influential homeless services organizations wrote a letter to the City Council, decrying the strategy put forward by the court and city. The focus on interim housing and the freeways would not lift people out of homelessness, they said.
In interviews with dozens of homeless people, outreach workers and government officials, The Times found that a specific set of reasons drew people to congregate under freeway underpasses.
Homeless people say they are safer from the elements, law enforcement and housed neighbors when they congregate near the freeway.
Jesse James Taylor, reflected in a mirror, stands near his encampment under the Santa Monica Freeway in Los Angeles. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
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“You’re not in anyone’s yard, so the police won’t hassle you here,” said Jesse James Taylor, who is homeless and lives under the 10 freeway along Venice Boulevard in Mid-City.
Farther west, under the 10 near Pico Boulevard and Bundy Drive, George Grasso stood shirtless as outreach workers attempted to find out if he was interested in leaving his tent. Blaring traffic stilted the conversation and a red bandanna over his mouth made it even more difficult to understand what he had to say.
“The neighbors will call the cops on you. The cops will be there every day.” — George Grasso, who lives under the 10 Freeway near Pico Boulevard
Grasso wanted to be able to smoke marijuana, which he’s prohibited from possessing inside the shelters and motels that are part of Project Roomkey. He wants a permanent housing solution but sought out this spot more than two years ago for several reasons. On a hot or rainy day, he said, the protection from the elements is a huge relief. Similarly, he added that if he were to set up his tent a few blocks in either direction on a street, homeowners would be all over him.
Rascal Fernandez, 35, stands near his encampment along the 105 Freeway in Downey. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
“The neighbors will call the cops on you. The cops will be there every day,” he said. “Here they give us very little trouble. I really don’t even go anywhere. There’s too much to look after.”
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The shelters, he hears, are far less safe than his current situation.
In North Hollywood, passing traffic punctuated by beeping from oncoming cars offered a symphony of sorts as Michael Cooper, his back stooped, hurriedly moved detritus around, seemingly in search of something. A mop of blond hair hung over his eyes and Coke-bottle glasses sat on the tip of his nose.
The 59-year-old said he had graduated from USC and had been homeless for a long time. Recently, though, his prospects were looking up. After months of waiting, he had secured a room in a single room occupancy hotel downtown and he was moving in that week.
Outreach worker Judith Nuffio, center, gives Michael Cooper food while visiting his encampment under the 134 Freeway in North Hollywood. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
His spot under the 134 Freeway in North Hollywood had long been a refuge because there was little pedestrian foot traffic, and he was a “little more invisible here,” he said.
“That’s a lot of people they’re going to have to move. It’s going to be hard,” he said as he grabbed his backpack to head to the bus and his new home.
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“I think it’s a reach to say it’s for the best interest of the homeless people.”


latimes--2020-07-26--Outdoor religious gatherings draw warnings and rebukes from health officials

Along Pacific Coast Highway in Huntington Beach , electronic road signs were programmed to read : CANCELED SATURATE OC .
But the evangelical worship event took place on the sand near Lifeguard Tower 20 for the fourth Friday in a row , despite warnings that it was violating public health orders and permitting rules , officials said .
Its organizers estimate as many as 1,800 people attended for nearly two hours of musical performances , baptisms and prayers .
Days earlier , minister and musician Sean Feucht urged his fellow Christians to join him under the Sundial Bridge in Redding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Bring a mask ( we ’ ll have some if you need ) .
Spread out .
Let ’ s worship Jesus and love on our city !
” he said on Twitter .
But videos of the July 22 gathering show people crowded together with no masks , waving their hands in the air and singing songs of praise .
It ’ s been nearly two weeks since Gov .
Gavin Newsom ordered the re-closure of churches in much of the state amid a worrying resurgence of new coronavirus cases .
Though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ participants are supposed to wear face coverings and keep six feet apart , as is required when Californians are around anyone who is not a member of their household .
But from Orange County to Northern California , people continue to gather for large outdoor ceremonies without following the rules , prompting stern reprimands from public health officials .
The Shasta County Health and Human Services Agency recommended that anyone who attended the Redding service get tested for the coronavirus and self-quarantine for 14 days .
“ We truly empathize with all who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ worship in the past few months , ” the agency said in a news release .
“ Very sadly , some of our local cases of COVID-19 , including hospitalizations , have resulted from faith gatherings , and it ’ s critical that our faith community leaders continue to offer safe services that follow the state guidelines.
” The health agency noted in its statement that “ there was much physical touching ” at the event , and the crowd was too large to fit in the area around the bridge while maintaining @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Shasta County had 291 confirmed coronavirus cases , with five people hospitalized and eight dead from the virus .
The city of Huntington Beach said in a statement that it “ firmly supports the right of any religious group to worship , ” but that they must follow permitting and safety protocols .
“ Unfortunately , the Saturate OC event promoters have not instituted safety protocols prescribed by the state and county , and they have refused to obtain a permit for their event , ” the city said .
The event ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ being singled out because of their religion .
“ I think it ’ s more of a political statement that anything at this point , for people to actually shut down a worship service when there ’ s mass protests with hundreds of thousands of people in L.A. and then we ’ re getting highlighted in the news for spreading the virus , ” said Parker Green , 34 , who organized the recurring event with his wife Jessi , 35 .
Huntington Beach Police officers visited the Greens ’ home ahead of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for promoting an event without a permit .
They planned to expand the charge to holding an event without a permit , and officers were also recommending that his wife be cited , Angela Bennett , public information officer for the Huntington Beach Police Department , said Saturday .
Each municipal code violation carries a potential fine of $ 1,000 , she said .
The Greens had been planning Saturate OC for more than a year and initially planned to host it at the Hyatt hotel , but then the coronavirus pandemic put @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , they said .
They held their first event at Huntington Beach on July 3 , and they ’ ve seen attendance grow every week , surpassing their expectations , they said .
“ Suicide rates have shot up since COVID and we have people crying on the beach because they ’ re getting set free from suicidal thoughts and they ’ re saying this is the thing that they ’ ve needed , ” Jessi Green said .
“ And I think that ’ s why there ’ s so many people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the Greens provided participants with hand sanitizer and gave out hundreds of masks , they said , but they estimated at least 60 % of people chose not to wear them .
“ It ’ s Orange County , ” Parker Green said , referencing the strong resistance to following public health orders that many county residents have become noted for .
“ Obviously [ coronavirus ] is a concern that we have in our mind , especially with people that are more vulnerable , but I ’ m driving through Main @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and there are no masks , hundreds of people bumping into each other , ” he said Saturday .
“ When is it enforceable and when is it not ?
” Public health officials have said there are potential hazards associated with churches — namely , the prevalence of singing and chanting , which can increase the likelihood of transmission through droplet spread .
Even in less hard-hit counties where churches have been allowed to remain open for indoor services , the state has required that they not have singing and chanting indoors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of building capacity or 100 people , whichever is lower .
When it comes to outdoor services , state guidelines advise local health authorities to consider appropriate limitations based on local conditions .
Orange County has seen a recent surge in coronavirus cases and hospitalizations , reporting more than 33,900 cases and 560 deaths as of Saturday , with 685 COVID-19 patients in county hospitals .
Based on the county ’ s transmission rate , its public health department determined the Saturate OC event should be limited to 100 people or less , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a news release .
When the organizers declined to limit attendance , the public health department declared the event to be in violation of public health orders , the city said .
It wasn ’ t immediately clear whether the declaration carried any weight .
The Greens said they received no communication from county authorities about violating health orders .
The health department did not respond to a request for comment .
Still , the couple has decided Friday ’ s Saturate OC was the last one they ’ ll hold in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to find somewhere else in Orange County instead .
“ They kind of put us between a rock and a hard place because they ’ re saying churches , as a whole , that they can ’ t meet inside buildings because of the health codes , to go outside , ” Jessi Green said .
“ So we ’ re just trying to find places to go outside to share the gospel and practice our religion , but then we ’ re being told the public city beach is not an option.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ OK , according to California municipalities and the state government , for me to practice my religion ?
” Parker Green said .
Feucht , who could not be reached for comment , is holding “ Let Us Worship ” events around the country , including in Pasadena and Bakersfield earlier this week and Arkansas , Oklahoma and Texas in the coming weeks .
A flier for one of the events , in San Diego on Sunday , urges attendees to “ Please bring a mask and practice social distancing between households.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Bakersfield event , Feucht appeared in a park with the city ’ s mayor , Karen Goh .
“ We ’ re socially distanced , we want to follow the guidelines , we want to worship , ” he said .
Pasadena police did not receive any calls about the gathering at 400 W. Claremont St. on Thursday evening , said Lt. Marcia Taglioretti .
Officers are not making arrests for social distancing or mask violations , but they attempt to educate the public about the requirements , she said .
In a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , labeled “ Let Us Worship — Live — Pasadena , ” Feucht plays the guitar , accompanied by a drummer .
The crowd , closely packed and maskless , sings : “ He ’ s got the whole world in his hands .
”

Hundreds gathered for the Saturate OC worship event held north of the pier in Huntington Beach, on Friday, July 10.
Along Pacific Coast Highway in Huntington Beach, electronic road signs were programmed to read: CANCELED SATURATE OC.
But the evangelical worship event took place on the sand near Lifeguard Tower 20 for the fourth Friday in a row, despite warnings that it was violating public health orders and permitting rules, officials said. Its organizers estimate as many as 1,800 people attended for nearly two hours of musical performances, baptisms and prayers.
Days earlier, minister and musician Sean Feucht urged his fellow Christians to join him under the Sundial Bridge in Redding for a night of worship.
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“Bring a mask (we’ll have some if you need). Spread out. Let’s worship Jesus and love on our city!” he said on Twitter.
But videos of the July 22 gathering show people crowded together with no masks, waving their hands in the air and singing songs of praise.
It’s been nearly two weeks since Gov. Gavin Newsom ordered the re-closure of churches in much of the state amid a worrying resurgence of new coronavirus cases. Though outdoor worship services are still permitted, participants are supposed to wear face coverings and keep six feet apart, as is required when Californians are around anyone who is not a member of their household.
But from Orange County to Northern California, people continue to gather for large outdoor ceremonies without following the rules, prompting stern reprimands from public health officials.
The Shasta County Health and Human Services Agency recommended that anyone who attended the Redding service get tested for the coronavirus and self-quarantine for 14 days.
“We truly empathize with all who have had to change the way they worship in the past few months,” the agency said in a news release. “Very sadly, some of our local cases of COVID-19, including hospitalizations, have resulted from faith gatherings, and it’s critical that our faith community leaders continue to offer safe services that follow the state guidelines.”
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The health agency noted in its statement that “there was much physical touching” at the event, and the crowd was too large to fit in the area around the bridge while maintaining social distancing.
As of Friday, Shasta County had 291 confirmed coronavirus cases, with five people hospitalized and eight dead from the virus.
The city of Huntington Beach said in a statement that it “firmly supports the right of any religious group to worship,” but that they must follow permitting and safety protocols. “Unfortunately, the Saturate OC event promoters have not instituted safety protocols prescribed by the state and county, and they have refused to obtain a permit for their event,” the city said.
The event’s directors said they thought they were being singled out because of their religion.
“I think it’s more of a political statement that anything at this point, for people to actually shut down a worship service when there’s mass protests with hundreds of thousands of people in L.A. and then we’re getting highlighted in the news for spreading the virus,” said Parker Green, 34, who organized the recurring event with his wife Jessi, 35.
Huntington Beach Police officers visited the Greens’ home ahead of the 6 p.m. service and cited Parker for promoting an event without a permit. They planned to expand the charge to holding an event without a permit, and officers were also recommending that his wife be cited, Angela Bennett, public information officer for the Huntington Beach Police Department, said Saturday. Each municipal code violation carries a potential fine of $1,000, she said.
The Greens had been planning Saturate OC for more than a year and initially planned to host it at the Hyatt hotel, but then the coronavirus pandemic put an indefinite end to large indoor gatherings, they said. They held their first event at Huntington Beach on July 3, and they’ve seen attendance grow every week, surpassing their expectations, they said.
“Suicide rates have shot up since COVID and we have people crying on the beach because they’re getting set free from suicidal thoughts and they’re saying this is the thing that they’ve needed,” Jessi Green said. “And I think that’s why there’s so many people coming to the beach.”
On Friday, the Greens provided participants with hand sanitizer and gave out hundreds of masks, they said, but they estimated at least 60% of people chose not to wear them. “It’s Orange County,” Parker Green said, referencing the strong resistance to following public health orders that many county residents have become noted for.
“Obviously [coronavirus] is a concern that we have in our mind, especially with people that are more vulnerable, but I’m driving through Main Street in Huntington Beach right now, and there are no masks, hundreds of people bumping into each other,” he said Saturday. “When is it enforceable and when is it not?”
Public health officials have said there are potential hazards associated with churches — namely, the prevalence of singing and chanting, which can increase the likelihood of transmission through droplet spread. Even in less hard-hit counties where churches have been allowed to remain open for indoor services, the state has required that they not have singing and chanting indoors and limit attendance to either 25% of building capacity or 100 people, whichever is lower.
When it comes to outdoor services, state guidelines advise local health authorities to consider appropriate limitations based on local conditions.
Orange County has seen a recent surge in coronavirus cases and hospitalizations, reporting more than 33,900 cases and 560 deaths as of Saturday, with 685 COVID-19 patients in county hospitals. Based on the county’s transmission rate, its public health department determined the Saturate OC event should be limited to 100 people or less, the city of Huntington Beach said Friday in a news release.
When the organizers declined to limit attendance, the public health department declared the event to be in violation of public health orders, the city said.
It wasn’t immediately clear whether the declaration carried any weight. The Greens said they received no communication from county authorities about violating health orders. The health department did not respond to a request for comment.
Still, the couple has decided Friday’s Saturate OC was the last one they’ll hold in Huntington Beach. They’re hoping to find somewhere else in Orange County instead.
“They kind of put us between a rock and a hard place because they’re saying churches, as a whole, that they can’t meet inside buildings because of the health codes, to go outside,” Jessi Green said. “So we’re just trying to find places to go outside to share the gospel and practice our religion, but then we’re being told the public city beach is not an option.”
“So where exactly is it OK, according to California municipalities and the state government, for me to practice my religion?” Parker Green said.
Feucht, who could not be reached for comment, is holding “Let Us Worship” events around the country, including in Pasadena and Bakersfield earlier this week and Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas in the coming weeks.
A flier for one of the events, in San Diego on Sunday, urges attendees to “Please bring a mask and practice social distancing between households.”
In a video filmed Friday before the Bakersfield event, Feucht appeared in a park with the city’s mayor, Karen Goh.
“We’re socially distanced, we want to follow the guidelines, we want to worship,” he said.
Pasadena police did not receive any calls about the gathering at 400 W. Claremont St. on Thursday evening, said Lt. Marcia Taglioretti. Officers are not making arrests for social distancing or mask violations, but they attempt to educate the public about the requirements, she said.
In a video on Feucht’s Twitter page, labeled “Let Us Worship — Live — Pasadena,” Feucht plays the guitar, accompanied by a drummer.
The crowd, closely packed and maskless, sings: “He’s got the whole world in his hands.”


latimes--2020-07-26--'Open today, closed tomorrow' is the new normal for hair, nail salons due to coronavirus

In his “ last lifetime , ” Travis Vu closed his hair salon after the coronavirus forced state leaders to impose a lockdown in a reeling California in late March .
The casually stylish Vu , 47 , turned off the lights on the custom metal and concrete chandeliers gracing his industrial six-seat space .
He stayed home , slept , exercised and whipped up grilled garlic shrimp and broken-rice dishes to sell on the side until regulations allowed him to reopen in early June .
That ’ s when he dipped into savings to stock up on sanitary supplies @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , worn-out perms and graying heads .
TravisVu The Salon in Fountain Valley found business “ fixing stuff people tried unsuccessfully at their house , ” its owner said .
“ Oh my God , everyone was cutting their own hair or their family ’ s hair and not having good luck .
They had to spend , like , triple to get it corrected.
” For months , Vu and thousands of other hair and nail salon owners up and down the state have been whipsawed , financially and emotionally , as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
At his salon , four stylists washed and snipped together until two weeks ago , when the spiraling number of COVID-19 cases compelled Gov .
Gavin Newsom to shut down operations in the Golden State — only to announce on July 20 that salons could resume their services if they moved outdoors .
Vu seized the moment .
He rushed to IKEA to buy rolling carts and standing mirrors .
He set up two socially distanced chairs outside his storefront , squeezing a giant planter blooming with succulents between them .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The first day , eight customers arrived at his doorstep .
The second day there were five , ready for a polished redo .
Now , he ’ s on a “ short break ” to create a site plan , getting the required insurance and permits from the city and the state Board of Barbering and Cosmetology before reopening yet again .
“ Open today , closed tomorrow , ” is his answer to questions about the new business cycle , hand in hand with a mind-altering pandemic that has seen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1 on a global list of worst-hit countries .
“ We just don ’ t know what to expect anymore , but we are trying our best .
Working is in the blood.
” James Phan , owner of multiple small businesses , among them Ritz Nails in Tustin , said he believes that “ we must adapt to each situation to survive .
What choice do we have at this time ?
” To entice customers , he bypassed the fancy leather spa chairs — complete with running water , but hard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ instead set up standard chairs and fans under the shade outdoors , asking manicurists to carry buckets back and forth to rinse and soak clients ’ feet .
“ It ’ s a bit hot , a bit windy , dusty — the conditions are not ideal because when nails dry too fast , the nail techs can ’ t do all the paintwork they need to do .
But the goal is to keep one side employed and the other side serviced .
That way , we ’ re all happy , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Phan said .
Like other salonists , he clocks in seven days a week , manning eight stations and sanitizing thoroughly after each customer , rather than wait out a pandemic that would wipe out his financial resources .
“ The start-up costs and restart-up costs .
The hiring of workers , then laying them off , then rehiring — you go around and around , ” said Mel Parker , a marketing specialist from Los Angeles who said that these days what she misses more than eating in restaurants is getting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ salon blowout and gel nails .
She saw pictures of TravisVu The Salon online and TV reports of clients perched on small seats , as manicurists buffed their toes .
“ Sometimes , it seems like the world is ending .
Customers want to do their hair and nails to cheer themselves up — and if we need to go outside to do it , we will , ” she said .
“ We still want to look good.
” But for salons , fluctuating between indoors and outdoors , struggling to break @ @ @ @ @ @ @ regulations , is a daily pressure .
Analysts say the endless guidelines have prompted not only confusion but frustration .
Cheri Gyuro , spokeswoman for the state Department of Consumer Affairs , said the Board of Barbering and Cosmetology “ understands the effect shutdowns have on businesses and is sensitive to that.
” “ The situation is fluid , and the environment is constantly changing , ” she added , “ but for now , personal care facilities that are on the statewide monitoring list must follow the governor ’ s directive not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feeling is our industry has been decimated with all these closures and reopening requirements , ” says Tam Nguyen , president of Advance Beauty College in Garden Grove and Laguna Hills .
He has taught courses in the trade for more than 20 years and said that guidelines for operating outdoors don ’ t always make sense .
“ What if we ’ re cutting hair and the salon is next door to a restaurant where the risk of flying hair can harm diners ?
” he asked .
“ Or what if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lot and there are no barriers to shield manicurists from cars driving in ?
Accidents can easily happen .
“ This is ridiculous .
In class , we stress the importance of sanitation and cross-contamination for hundreds of hours .
We ’ re already careful.
” For Vu , closing up his shop , which is near the entrance of a tax consulting office and a pizza place , meant shepherding all the temporary chairs inside .
The wrapped madeleines on a cake platter next to the cash register will await future guests @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s intending to stay positive , not despair .
But “ after that first month locked down at home , I started freaking out , never thought it would stretch so long , ” he recalled .
“ One week became six weeks .
Then all the bills were coming.
” He couldn ’ t get a break on rent , nor did he get a stimulus check or government payroll loan .
His weekends are “ completely free ” until the end of the year , with bookings for bridal makeup , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ His income is down by two-thirds .
“ I ’ m not a fortune teller .
I only hope for all our sakes we can stay reopened and the clients will understand it ’ s not risky coming back because we keep their safety in mind , ” he said .
Realtor Mindy Luong said she remains loyal to Vu .
“ I tried to do my own hair .
It ’ s terrible , we need the professional , ” she said , smiling .
“ We can ’ t always jump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anymore .
We have to call first to see if they ’ re working .
”

Travis Vu cuts a client’s hair in one of two socially-distanced chairs in front of his salon in Fountain Valley. He said he could never have imagined moving his operations outside, but is doing his best to keep business afloat and four employees working.
In his “last lifetime,” Travis Vu closed his hair salon after the coronavirus forced state leaders to impose a lockdown in a reeling California in late March.
The casually stylish Vu, 47, turned off the lights on the custom metal and concrete chandeliers gracing his industrial six-seat space. He stayed home, slept, exercised and whipped up grilled garlic shrimp and broken-rice dishes to sell on the side until regulations allowed him to reopen in early June. That’s when he dipped into savings to stock up on sanitary supplies, welcoming back clients with stringy locks, worn-out perms and graying heads.
For the record: A previous version of this article said Gov. Gavin Newsom announced June 17 that salons could resume their services if they moved outdoors. He made that announcement July 20.
TravisVu The Salon in Fountain Valley found business “fixing stuff people tried unsuccessfully at their house,” its owner said. “Oh my God, everyone was cutting their own hair or their family’s hair and not having good luck. They had to spend, like, triple to get it corrected.”
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For months, Vu and thousands of other hair and nail salon owners up and down the state have been whipsawed, financially and emotionally, as California has struggled to reopen its economy.
At his salon, four stylists washed and snipped together until two weeks ago, when the spiraling number of COVID-19 cases compelled Gov. Gavin Newsom to shut down operations in the Golden State — only to announce on July 20 that salons could resume their services if they moved outdoors.
Vu seized the moment. He rushed to IKEA to buy rolling carts and standing mirrors. He set up two socially distanced chairs outside his storefront, squeezing a giant planter blooming with succulents between them. He posted photos and a video on Facebook.
The first day, eight customers arrived at his doorstep. The second day there were five, ready for a polished redo. Now, he’s on a “short break” to create a site plan, getting the required insurance and permits from the city and the state Board of Barbering and Cosmetology before reopening yet again.
“Open today, closed tomorrow,” is his answer to questions about the new business cycle, hand in hand with a mind-altering pandemic that has seen the United States rocket to No. 1 on a global list of worst-hit countries. “We just don’t know what to expect anymore, but we are trying our best. Working is in the blood.”
James Phan, owner of multiple small businesses, among them Ritz Nails in Tustin, said he believes that “we must adapt to each situation to survive. What choice do we have at this time?”
To entice customers, he bypassed the fancy leather spa chairs — complete with running water, but hard to move. He and his staff instead set up standard chairs and fans under the shade outdoors, asking manicurists to carry buckets back and forth to rinse and soak clients’ feet.
Advertisement
“It’s a bit hot, a bit windy, dusty — the conditions are not ideal because when nails dry too fast, the nail techs can’t do all the paintwork they need to do. But the goal is to keep one side employed and the other side serviced. That way, we’re all happy, and everyone likes the fresh air,” Phan said.
Like other salonists, he clocks in seven days a week, manning eight stations and sanitizing thoroughly after each customer, rather than wait out a pandemic that would wipe out his financial resources.
“The start-up costs and restart-up costs. The hiring of workers, then laying them off, then rehiring — you go around and around,” said Mel Parker, a marketing specialist from Los Angeles who said that these days what she misses more than eating in restaurants is getting her “standard indulgences” of a salon blowout and gel nails. She saw pictures of TravisVu The Salon online and TV reports of clients perched on small seats, as manicurists buffed their toes.
“Sometimes, it seems like the world is ending. Customers want to do their hair and nails to cheer themselves up — and if we need to go outside to do it, we will,” she said. “We still want to look good.”
But for salons, fluctuating between indoors and outdoors, struggling to break even or to keep pace with pandemic-inspired regulations, is a daily pressure. Analysts say the endless guidelines have prompted not only confusion but frustration.
Cheri Gyuro, spokeswoman for the state Department of Consumer Affairs, said the Board of Barbering and Cosmetology “understands the effect shutdowns have on businesses and is sensitive to that.”
“The situation is fluid, and the environment is constantly changing,” she added, “but for now, personal care facilities that are on the statewide monitoring list must follow the governor’s directive not to operate services indoors.”
Still, there’s anger.
“The feeling is our industry has been decimated with all these closures and reopening requirements,” says Tam Nguyen, president of Advance Beauty College in Garden Grove and Laguna Hills. He has taught courses in the trade for more than 20 years and said that guidelines for operating outdoors don’t always make sense.
“What if we’re cutting hair and the salon is next door to a restaurant where the risk of flying hair can harm diners?” he asked. “Or what if our front door leads into a parking lot and there are no barriers to shield manicurists from cars driving in? Accidents can easily happen.
“This is ridiculous. In class, we stress the importance of sanitation and cross-contamination for hundreds of hours. We’re already careful.”
For Vu, closing up his shop, which is near the entrance of a tax consulting office and a pizza place, meant shepherding all the temporary chairs inside. The wrapped madeleines on a cake platter next to the cash register will await future guests — hopefully, soon. He’s intending to stay positive, not despair.
But “after that first month locked down at home, I started freaking out, never thought it would stretch so long,” he recalled. “One week became six weeks. Then all the bills were coming.”
He couldn’t get a break on rent, nor did he get a stimulus check or government payroll loan. His weekends are “completely free” until the end of the year, with bookings for bridal makeup, his side staple, all gone. His income is down by two-thirds.
“I’m not a fortune teller. I only hope for all our sakes we can stay reopened and the clients will understand it’s not risky coming back because we keep their safety in mind,” he said.
Realtor Mindy Luong said she remains loyal to Vu.
“I tried to do my own hair. It’s terrible, we need the professional,” she said, smiling. “We can’t always jump into the car and drive to anywhere anymore. We have to call first to see if they’re working.”


latimes--2020-07-26--California is easing its bar exam score which critics argue fails to measure ability

For more than three decades , California has clung to one of the nation ’ s toughest testing standards for law school students hoping to practice law in the most populous state in the country .
But this month , the California Supreme Court , which oversees the state bar , agreed to lower the passing score for the exam , a victory for law school deans who have long hoped the change would raise the number of Black and Latino people practicing law .
After holding virtual meetings with law school graduates and deans , the state ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ passing score , allowed for law school graduates to work temporarily under supervision with provisional licenses during the pandemic and permitted graduates to take the bar exam remotely in early October .
“ There is absolutely no evidence that shows having a higher score makes for better lawyers , ” said UCLA School of Law Dean Jennifer L. Mnookin , a longtime supporter of lowering the passing score .
“ There is significant evidence that it reduces the diversity of the bar.
” Forty percent of California ’ s population is white , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But 68 % of California lawyers are white , and only 32 % are people of color , according to a new report by the State Bar of California .
UC Berkeley School of Law Dean Erwin Chemerinsky said the court ’ s action would not have come now if it were not for the coronavirus outbreak .
“ I think they were trying to fashion a compromise that took into account the unique circumstances ” of the health crisis , he said .
The Black Lives Matter movement also might have influenced @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hand , the pressure to lower the score has existed for some time , ” Chemerinsky said .
“ On the other hand , the racially disparate impact of the higher cut score may have had particular importance for the court in light of what has happened in the last few months.
” The court did not give the law deans and students what they asked for : a remote bar exam in September and the right to practice law permanently with a diploma but no test .
Chemerinsky said he was not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a complete “ diploma privilege.
” California , unlike other states , has law schools that are unaccredited or accredited only by the state .
Some of those schools have a bar exam pass rate of less than 10 % , the dean said .
The spread of COVID-19 forced the cancellation of the July bar exam , and the court had to decide when the next exam would be held and whether it could be taken remotely .
The court took that opportunity to address the bar exam score .
“ The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ long time , and the court has never stopped thinking about it , ” said a source who was not authorized to speak publicly but was familiar with the decision-making process .
Some speculated that the results of the February bar exam may also have influenced the court .
In February , a time when many graduates who failed the bar the first time retake it , only 26.8 % of all test takers passed .
Of the first-time test takers from law schools accredited by the American Bar Assn.
, considered the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ % of white graduates passed , compared with 5 % of Black grads , 32.6 % of Latinos and 42.2 % of Asians .
Whether the exam is culturally biased has been a question for law journals over the years , and critics have written that it fails to measure the real abilities required to be good lawyers .
The average national bar exam passing score is 1350 .
New York ’ s is 1330 .
California ’ s was 1440 until the court permanently reduced it to 1390 .
Both Chemerinsky and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pass rate by 10 % .
The court did not apply the new score retroactively .
Victor D. Quintanilla , a professor at Indiana University ’ s Maurer School of Law and an adjunct faculty member of the Department of Psychological and Brain Sciences , said pass rates for the California bar have been falling for all applicants , but the effects of California ’ s particularly high test score have disproportionately hurt racial and ethnic minorities .
He is part of a foundation-funded team of law professors and social psychologists who have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ results for the last 10 years .
He said 19.5 % of white test takers never pass the bar even after multiple attempts .
By contrast , he added , 46.9 % of Black test takers and 30.5 % of Latinos never pass .
Quintanilla , who also chairs the Assn .
of American Law Schools section on the empirical study of legal education , said Black people and Latinos generally do worse than white counterparts on “ high-stakes ” standardized tests , such as the SAT .
Studies attribute the differences to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ factors .
Social psychologists also have found that people of color worry when taking standardized tests if the results might reinforce negative stereotypes , and that anxiety hurts their performance , Quintanilla said .
“ There is social psychological research that shows that even when people of color take an exam and do well , that exam may not reflect their true potential , ” said Quintanilla , who has a law degree and is getting his doctorate in social psychology .
The team studying the bar , which includes faculty from Stanford @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the California Supreme Court next month .
Quintanilla said he was glad that the court lowered the score , but added : “ It is clear from the data that there are substantial benefits to be gained by moving further still.
” The seven-member state high court has two white justices , one Black justice , one Latino and three Asian Americans .
Chief Justice Tani G. Cantil-Sakauye and Justices Goodwin H. Liu and Joshua P. Groban participated in a three-hour remote meeting with 2,700 law students and graduates .
Liu , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ separate remote meeting with law school deans .
The court refused three years ago to lower the passing score , the second highest in the nation after Delaware ’ s .
In a written decision , the court noted that the pass rate had risen and fallen over the decades , with periods of pass rates for first-time test takers ranging from the upper 60th to the middle 70th percentiles from 1989 to 1997 , in 2001 , and from 2006 to 2013 .
“ The pass score did not appear a matter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the court said .
It added that the data about the pass rate did not support adjusting the score but urged the state bar to continue to study the question .
Janet L. Brewer , who was a bar trustee when the court first considered dropping the passing score , had expressed concern then that a large drop might lead to incompetent people practicing law .
But the lawyer said the drop approved by the court was “ pretty inconsequential.
” In a letter to the bar this month calling for the score @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to find “ the safest , most humane and practical ” options for licensing law graduates during the pandemic .
“ Some graduates have lost job offers , ” the court said .
“ Many are about to lose health insurance , can not find a job to pay bills , or are in fear of deportation if they can not enter the bar in time to retain job offers .
Many more have student loan payments that become due in mid-November , but without a law license and the ability to work @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The justices also directed the bar to develop the provisional license program allowing 2020 California graduates to practice law under the supervision of licensed lawyers through February 2022 .
“ This time frame will afford the 2020 graduates several opportunities to take the exam of their choosing through February 2022 and await the exam results , ” the court said .
The California bar is the regulatory arm of the California Supreme Court and submits professional rule changes and bar exam matters for the court to review .
The court has the final @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do most state high courts across the country .

Law students, in a time before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, take a practice California state bar exam on the UC Berkeley campus.
For more than three decades, California has clung to one of the nation’s toughest testing standards for law school students hoping to practice law in the most populous state in the country.
But this month, the California Supreme Court, which oversees the state bar, agreed to lower the passing score for the exam, a victory for law school deans who have long hoped the change would raise the number of Black and Latino people practicing law.
After holding virtual meetings with law school graduates and deans, the state’s highest court this month permanently lowered the passing score, allowed for law school graduates to work temporarily under supervision with provisional licenses during the pandemic and permitted graduates to take the bar exam remotely in early October.
“There is absolutely no evidence that shows having a higher score makes for better lawyers,” said UCLA School of Law Dean Jennifer L. Mnookin, a longtime supporter of lowering the passing score. “There is significant evidence that it reduces the diversity of the bar.”
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Forty percent of California’s population is white, 60% are people of color. But 68% of California lawyers are white, and only 32% are people of color, according to a new report by the State Bar of California.
UC Berkeley School of Law Dean Erwin Chemerinsky said the court’s action would not have come now if it were not for the coronavirus outbreak.
“I think they were trying to fashion a compromise that took into account the unique circumstances” of the health crisis, he said.
The Black Lives Matter movement also might have influenced the court.
“On the one hand, the pressure to lower the score has existed for some time,” Chemerinsky said. “On the other hand, the racially disparate impact of the higher cut score may have had particular importance for the court in light of what has happened in the last few months.”
The court did not give the law deans and students what they asked for: a remote bar exam in September and the right to practice law permanently with a diploma but no test.
Chemerinsky said he was not surprised the court refused to grant graduates a complete “diploma privilege.” California, unlike other states, has law schools that are unaccredited or accredited only by the state. Some of those schools have a bar exam pass rate of less than 10%, the dean said.
The spread of COVID-19 forced the cancellation of the July bar exam, and the court had to decide when the next exam would be held and whether it could be taken remotely. The court took that opportunity to address the bar exam score.
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“The cut score issue has been around a long time, and the court has never stopped thinking about it,” said a source who was not authorized to speak publicly but was familiar with the decision-making process.
Some speculated that the results of the February bar exam may also have influenced the court.
In February, a time when many graduates who failed the bar the first time retake it, only 26.8% of all test takers passed.
Of the first-time test takers from law schools accredited by the American Bar Assn., considered the top schools in the state, 51.7% of white graduates passed, compared with 5% of Black grads, 32.6% of Latinos and 42.2% of Asians.
Whether the exam is culturally biased has been a question for law journals over the years, and critics have written that it fails to measure the real abilities required to be good lawyers.
The average national bar exam passing score is 1350. New York’s is 1330. California’s was 1440 until the court permanently reduced it to 1390. Both Chemerinsky and Mnookin estimated that change will raise the pass rate by 10%. The court did not apply the new score retroactively.
Victor D. Quintanilla, a professor at Indiana University’s Maurer School of Law and an adjunct faculty member of the Department of Psychological and Brain Sciences, said pass rates for the California bar have been falling for all applicants, but the effects of California’s particularly high test score have disproportionately hurt racial and ethnic minorities.
He is part of a foundation-funded team of law professors and social psychologists who have been studying California’s bar exam results for the last 10 years. He said 19.5% of white test takers never pass the bar even after multiple attempts. By contrast, he added, 46.9% of Black test takers and 30.5% of Latinos never pass.
Quintanilla, who also chairs the Assn. of American Law Schools section on the empirical study of legal education, said Black people and Latinos generally do worse than white counterparts on “high-stakes” standardized tests, such as the SAT.
Studies attribute the differences to disparities in educational opportunities and other socioeconomic factors. Social psychologists also have found that people of color worry when taking standardized tests if the results might reinforce negative stereotypes, and that anxiety hurts their performance, Quintanilla said.
“There is social psychological research that shows that even when people of color take an exam and do well, that exam may not reflect their true potential,” said Quintanilla, who has a law degree and is getting his doctorate in social psychology.
The team studying the bar, which includes faculty from Stanford University and USC, will deliver findings to the California Supreme Court next month. Quintanilla said he was glad that the court lowered the score, but added: “It is clear from the data that there are substantial benefits to be gained by moving further still.”
The seven-member state high court has two white justices, one Black justice, one Latino and three Asian Americans. Chief Justice Tani G. Cantil-Sakauye and Justices Goodwin H. Liu and Joshua P. Groban participated in a three-hour remote meeting with 2,700 law students and graduates. Liu, Groban and Justice Mariano-Florentino Cuéllar joined a separate remote meeting with law school deans.
The court refused three years ago to lower the passing score, the second highest in the nation after Delaware’s. In a written decision, the court noted that the pass rate had risen and fallen over the decades, with periods of pass rates for first-time test takers ranging from the upper 60th to the middle 70th percentiles from 1989 to 1997, in 2001, and from 2006 to 2013.
“The pass score did not appear a matter of controversy during these periods,” the court said. It added that the data about the pass rate did not support adjusting the score but urged the state bar to continue to study the question.
Janet L. Brewer, who was a bar trustee when the court first considered dropping the passing score, had expressed concern then that a large drop might lead to incompetent people practicing law. But the lawyer said the drop approved by the court was “pretty inconsequential.”
In a letter to the bar this month calling for the score cut, the court spoke of trying to find “the safest, most humane and practical” options for licensing law graduates during the pandemic.
“Some graduates have lost job offers,” the court said. “Many are about to lose health insurance, cannot find a job to pay bills, or are in fear of deportation if they cannot enter the bar in time to retain job offers. Many more have student loan payments that become due in mid-November, but without a law license and the ability to work, they fear going into default.”
The justices also directed the bar to develop the provisional license program allowing 2020 California graduates to practice law under the supervision of licensed lawyers through February 2022.
“This time frame will afford the 2020 graduates several opportunities to take the exam of their choosing through February 2022 and await the exam results,” the court said.
The California bar is the regulatory arm of the California Supreme Court and submits professional rule changes and bar exam matters for the court to review. The court has the final say over bar exam scores, as do most state high courts across the country.


latimes--2020-07-26--How Latino dads are using TikTok to connect with their children

Wearing a sultry look on his face and a long , curly gray wig , Genaro Rangel pulled his fake hair out of a ponytail and whipped it dramatically over his shoulders .
`` ¡Qué pasó !
” exclaimed Rangel , a burly , mustachioed handyman , as he yanked off the wig in his Santa Ana dining room .
“ It ’ s me !
” His daughter , Wendy , burst into giggles as she recorded a shaky cellphone video for TikTok while her dad did an off-tune impersonation of Mexican legend Marco Antonio Solis , aka “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the words , “ I ’ m dead , ” and the hashtag # mexicandadsbelike .
Wendy Rangel , 22 , often films her father , a natural jokester originally from the Mexican state of Baja California , because he does not mind making himself the butt of a joke on a social media app that he barely understands .
If it makes his daughter happy ?
He ’ ll do it .
Enthusiastically .
Rangel is one of a growing number of middle-aged Latino dads making appearances on TikTok , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ videos .
From papis strutting in heels and a crop top to apás joining in on skits topapás jokingly swearing in their accented English , Latino dads are racking up the likes and views from users who see their own families reflected in the short , often candid clips .
“ People don ’ t really see this side of their dads , ” Wendy Rangel said .
“ Most dads don ’ t like being recorded and they ’ re more protective about what people think about them .
My dad doesn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doesn ’ t care about being tough .
He just likes being himself.
” And the comments under her videos , like , “ Your dad reminds me a lot of mine , ” and “ I swear Mexican dads are straight up comedy ” are proof that others relate .
These TikTok dads defy the stereotype of the machista Latino father , and their growing presence on the app shows a cultural shift within immigrant families , said Alexandro Gradilla , a professor of Chicano Studies at Cal State Fullerton .
Although @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tied to family life in Mexico and Latin America — often embodied by the use of the more formal Spanish-language pronoun “ usted ” over “ tú ” when referring to parents — the videos highlight a type of fatherhood that is more open and lighthearted , Gradilla said .
“ One of the things that these men have experienced when they cross the border is that they don ’ t want to be loved out of obligation or respect , ” he said .
“ They just want to be loved.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stereotypes of hypermasculinity , as he doesn ’ t mind being recorded in wigs or batting his eyes while showing off the fake eyelashes that his daughter sells .
“ Hijo de su madre , todavía las traigo , ” he told The Times , laughing .
“ I haven ’ t been able to take them off !
” Genaro said making TikToks had allowed him to develop a tighter bond with his daughter and granddaughter — and , well , “ it ’ s fun , ” he said .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ smile , ” he said .
“ If you get bitter , you make everyone else bitter too.
” TikTokker Vicente Avila , a 46-year-old immigrant father of three known on the app as Vinny the Twister , is the indisputable papá de TikTok , with more than 1.5 million followers and signature phrases , “ See you later , alligator !
” “ Pshht !
” and “ Check it out !
” Avila ’ s following on the app skyrocketed last year as he documented his daily life — making quesadillas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in his old truck and buying elotes from street vendors .
Now , he features his children in skits poking fun at Americanized dads and and a series titled “ Parents ’ Favorite Kid ” where his 12-year-old twins , Monse and Beto , act out fictional scenarios in which his son gets preferential treatment over his daughter .
“ I came to this country in the same way that so many Latinos do , ” said Avila , who crossed the U.S.-Mexico border in the early 1990s .
“ So they feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with them.
” For Avila , his videos have allowed him to have a close relationship with his children — something he never had with his own father in his native town of Tala , Jalisco , in Mexico .
“ My parents were always busy working and more worried about what they ’ d bring home for dinner , ” Avila said .
“ I felt like I never had that connection when I was young.
” Avila said the app had allowed him to break the barriers of raising kids a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and instead use new media to better connect with the youth .
“ With my dad , we can just be ourselves and be funny , ” his 15-year-old daughter , Abby , said .
“ I call him a little kid because he ’ s just adorable.
” Well-respected Latinx influencers on the app have tapped into the trend of featuring their dads .
TikTokker Marlene Mendez , who grew up in Bell Gardens and has garnered more than 8 million likes on her videos , showed her dad , Luis , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Perez and Don Cheto — about a dad not allowing his daughter to speak to her cholo boyfriend .
“ ¿Cómo que tienes novio y yo no lo sabía ?
Con razón en el teléfono , ahí ‘ tas todo el día , ” Don Cheto raps .
“ How do you have a boyfriend without me knowing ?
No wonder you ’ re on the phone all day.
” Convincing Luis to join in the fun was the difficult first step , but once he was on board , the two couldn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the bloopers , Mendez said .
“ Sometimes , they don ’ t like to look like se les baja lo hombre ” ( their masculinity drops ) , Mendez said .
“ But I feel like when they see videos like this , it changes their perspective.
” Other videos with papás have used lyrics from El Chapo de Sinaloa ’ s “ Le Hace Falta Un Beso ” as background audio while users showcase their dads ’ construction work or mimic their dads ’ work outfits in a silly yet lovable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s never in need / In her love nest she waits for him .
The lyrics and videos highlight the narrative of Latino men as the traditional breadwinners but honor them in a modern way , Gradilla said .
“ They realize they don ’ t have very much in terms of material possessions , and all they do have is their family , ” he said .
“ And that ’ s something they value , even as they struggle to understand their more American-oriented children.
” TikTokker Enrique Iñiguez ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shift .
He has become a sensation among Latinos in the LGBTQ community .
In his most viral videos , José identifies female celebrities like Ariana Grande and Salma Hayek and answers whether he thinks they ’ re pretty .
The shock for many viewers came when Enrique showed him male makeup artists with full makeup and eyelashes .
José answered without judgment .
“ Se pinta bien chukis el vato , ” he said of millionaire makeup guru Jeffree Star .
“ He does his makeup very well.
” “ Está bonito @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said of makeup artist James Charles , whom his daughters watch religiously on YouTube .
“ He ’ s pretty .
Of course he is.
” That video has nearly 500,000 likes and thousands of comments calling José “ woke ” or calling for “ más papás así !
” “ More dads like this !
” “ What better way to show the world that not every Latino dad is homophobic via these TikToks ?
” Iñiguez said .
“ That ’ s why we ’ ve been doing them .
”

Eveli Paz records her father-in-law, Genaro Rangel, and sister-in-law Wendy Rangel while they dance to Mexican music for a TikTok video.
Wearing a sultry look on his face and a long, curly gray wig, Genaro Rangel pulled his fake hair out of a ponytail and whipped it dramatically over his shoulders.
“¡Qué pasó!” exclaimed Rangel, a burly, mustachioed handyman, as he yanked off the wig in his Santa Ana dining room. “It’s me!”
His daughter, Wendy, burst into giggles as she recorded a shaky cellphone video for TikTok while her dad did an off-tune impersonation of Mexican legend Marco Antonio Solis, aka “El Buki.” She would post it with the words, “I’m dead,” and the hashtag #mexicandadsbelike.
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Wendy Rangel, 22, often films her father, a natural jokester originally from the Mexican state of Baja California, because he does not mind making himself the butt of a joke on a social media app that he barely understands. If it makes his daughter happy? He’ll do it. Enthusiastically.
Genaro Rangel wears a wig and dances with his daughter Wendy on their porch in Santa Ana. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Rangel is one of a growing number of middle-aged Latino dads making appearances on TikTok, the app best known for its goofy teen videos. From papis strutting in heels and a crop top to apás joining in on skits to papás jokingly swearing in their accented English, Latino dads are racking up the likes and views from users who see their own families reflected in the short, often candid clips.
“People don’t really see this side of their dads,” Wendy Rangel said. “Most dads don’t like being recorded and they’re more protective about what people think about them. My dad doesn’t have a filter. He doesn’t care about being tough. He just likes being himself.”
And the comments under her videos, like, “Your dad reminds me a lot of mine,” and “I swear Mexican dads are straight up comedy” are proof that others relate.
These TikTok dads defy the stereotype of the machista Latino father, and their growing presence on the app shows a cultural shift within immigrant families, said Alexandro Gradilla, a professor of Chicano Studies at Cal State Fullerton.
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Although there is a traditional culture of respect tied to family life in Mexico and Latin America — often embodied by the use of the more formal Spanish-language pronoun “usted” over “tú” when referring to parents — the videos highlight a type of fatherhood that is more open and lighthearted, Gradilla said.
“One of the things that these men have experienced when they cross the border is that they don’t want to be loved out of obligation or respect,” he said. “They just want to be loved.”
Wendy Rangel puts fake eyelashes on her dad, Genaro, before shooting a video for her TikTok. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Genaro Rangel’s TikTok appearances defy stereotypes of hypermasculinity, as he doesn’t mind being recorded in wigs or batting his eyes while showing off the fake eyelashes that his daughter sells.
“Hijo de su madre, todavía las traigo,” he told The Times, laughing. “I haven’t been able to take them off!”
Genaro said making TikToks had allowed him to develop a tighter bond with his daughter and granddaughter — and, well, “it’s fun,” he said.
“You have to face life with a smile,” he said. “If you get bitter, you make everyone else bitter too.”
Vicente Avila, 46, with his 12-year-old daughter, Monse, playing the character Pepe. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
TikTokker Vicente Avila, a 46-year-old immigrant father of three known on the app as Vinny the Twister, is the indisputable papá de TikTok, with more than 1.5 million followers and signature phrases, “See you later, alligator!” “Pshht!” and “Check it out!”
Avila’s following on the app skyrocketed last year as he documented his daily life — making quesadillas for his kids, heading to work in his old truck and buying elotes from street vendors. Now, he features his children in skits poking fun at Americanized dads and and a series titled “Parents’ Favorite Kid” where his 12-year-old twins, Monse and Beto, act out fictional scenarios in which his son gets preferential treatment over his daughter.
“I came to this country in the same way that so many Latinos do,” said Avila, who crossed the U.S.-Mexico border in the early 1990s. “So they feel identified with me, and I identify with them.”
For Avila, his videos have allowed him to have a close relationship with his children — something he never had with his own father in his native town of Tala, Jalisco, in Mexico.
“My parents were always busy working and more worried about what they’d bring home for dinner,” Avila said. “I felt like I never had that connection when I was young.”
Vicente Avila is known on TikTok as Vinny the Twister and has more than 1.5 million followers. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Avila said the app had allowed him to break the barriers of raising kids a la antigua (the old way) and instead use new media to better connect with the youth.
“With my dad, we can just be ourselves and be funny,” his 15-year-old daughter, Abby, said. “I call him a little kid because he’s just adorable.”
Well-respected Latinx influencers on the app have tapped into the trend of featuring their dads. TikTokker Marlene Mendez, who grew up in Bell Gardens and has garnered more than 8 million likes on her videos, showed her dad, Luis, lipsyncing “Estoy Enamorada” by Yolanda Perez and Don Cheto — about a dad not allowing his daughter to speak to her cholo boyfriend.
“¿Cómo que tienes novio y yo no lo sabía? Con razón en el teléfono, ahí ‘tas todo el día,” Don Cheto raps. “How do you have a boyfriend without me knowing? No wonder you’re on the phone all day.”
Convincing Luis to join in the fun was the difficult first step, but once he was on board, the two couldn’t stop laughing as they watched the bloopers, Mendez said.
“Sometimes, they don’t like to look like se les baja lo hombre” (their masculinity drops), Mendez said. “But I feel like when they see videos like this, it changes their perspective.”
Other videos with papás have used lyrics from El Chapo de Sinaloa’s “Le Hace Falta Un Beso” as background audio while users showcase their dads’ construction work or mimic their dads’ work outfits in a silly yet lovable tribute: He works late so she’s never in need / In her love nest she waits for him.
The lyrics and videos highlight the narrative of Latino men as the traditional breadwinners but honor them in a modern way, Gradilla said.
“They realize they don’t have very much in terms of material possessions, and all they do have is their family,” he said. “And that’s something they value, even as they struggle to understand their more American-oriented children.”
TikTokker Enrique Iñiguez’s dad, José, epitomizes that shift. He has become a sensation among Latinos in the LGBTQ community. In his most viral videos, José identifies female celebrities like Ariana Grande and Salma Hayek and answers whether he thinks they’re pretty. The shock for many viewers came when Enrique showed him male makeup artists with full makeup and eyelashes. José answered without judgment.
“Se pinta bien chukis el vato,” he said of millionaire makeup guru Jeffree Star. “He does his makeup very well.”
“Está bonito. Sí como no,” he said of makeup artist James Charles, whom his daughters watch religiously on YouTube. “He’s pretty. Of course he is.”
That video has nearly 500,000 likes and thousands of comments calling José “woke” or calling for “más papás así!” “More dads like this!”
“What better way to show the world that not every Latino dad is homophobic via these TikToks?” Iñiguez said. “That’s why we’ve been doing them.”