ReportWire

Tag: Room

  • Bongo Room Co-Founder John Latino Helped Define Chicago’s Brunch Culture

    Bongo Room Co-Founder John Latino Helped Define Chicago’s Brunch Culture

    [ad_1]

    John Latino, the chef and founder of the Bongo Room, the Wicker Park restaurant that helped usher in the phenomenon of brunch in Chicago, has died.

    A South Side native, Latino opened the original Bongo Room in 1993 with longtime friend and business partner Derrick Robles in Wicker Park. The duo earned legions of fans over their 30-year partnership, attracting admirers and imitators with a joyful take that raised the bar on breakfast and brunch all over town.

    The 58-year-old Latino died suddenly of natural causes on Thursday, January 11 in Chicago, Robles says.

    “John really spoke with his food,” Robles says. “He was a quiet man, shy most of the time… We never really sought out recognition, we just kind of kept our nose to the grindstone and blinders on to focus on the restaurant, letting John’s food and our service speak for itself.”

    They would move from the original Damen Avenue location four years after opening. Long weekend brunch lines would regularly stretch onto the sidewalk of Milwaukee Avenue outside the current location in Wicker Park with customers indulging in specialty pancakes and other items. While chefs famously hate brunch, Bongo Room embraced it and customers woke up early to get on the waitlist. Bongo Room is hailed as one of the restaurants that turned Wicker Park into a brunch village. Bongo Room also provides a haven for weekday breakfast for neighborhood locals.

    Derrick Robles (left) and John Latino (right) founded Bongo Room in 1993.
    Derrick Robles

    Robles, who grew up in Beverly, met Latino in 1992 when they worked together at Gold Coast’s famed Pump Room, but the men had crossed paths before. Robles recalls first seeing Latino in 1988 across the room at now-shuttered LGBTQ nightclub icon Berlin. “He was kind of goth back then, he wore kilts and combat boots and had his hair spiked up 10 inches high,” Robles says.

    While Robles was growing weary of hospitality, Latino, then a student at Kendall College, always wanted to open a restaurant. That dream became a reality faster than they anticipated when a friend of Latino wanted to get out of a lease at 1560 N. Damen Avenue, the present site of Stan’s Donuts. That’s where Robles and Latino debuted their first location. After struggling the first year and a half with operations, challenges that Robles says contributed to the end of their romantic relationship, Latino developed a series of dishes that would become the restaurant’s signature, like fluffy lemon ricotta pancakes and banana bread French toast.

    Derrick Robles and John Latino pose on the patio at Bongo Room.

    Robles and Latino were best friends and business partners for three decades.
    Derrick Robles

    1994 was a red-letter year for Bongo Room thanks to rockstar Liz Phair, a Chicagoan who recorded her debut album Exile in Guyville at nearby Idful Music studio. Phair (also a former regular at indie rock dive Rainbo Club) met a reporter for an interview in Rolling Stone over Latino’s blueberry pancakes, and the restaurant snagged a mention in the article.

    Longtime friend Margaret MacKay held several positions at Bongo Room in the late ‘90s and says the restaurant’s popularity never went to Latino’s head. “He was a perfectionist,” she says. “He wanted to touch every plate [because] every plate had meaning to him. He felt like it was a reflection on him and [Robles].”

    During the early years of Bongo Room, Chicago businesses generally didn’t advertise their LGBTQ ownership. While the restaurant was never awash in rainbow flags, Robles says they never hid who they were. He credits that to the accepting atmosphere of Wicker Park at the time, then an artist enclave where “everyone could be who they wanted to be and live without judgment,” relative to other parts of the city.

    Latino and Robles sought out a larger space and in 1997 relocated to 1470 N. Milwaukee Avenue. Six years later, they opened a South Loop location (it closed in 2019) and expanded in 2012 to Andersonville. Since 2020, however, the business has struggled, says Robles.

    As he grieves for Latino, he is unsure of what the future holds for Bongo Room. Weekend business has returned to about 80 percent of pre-pandemic levels, but weekday numbers remain dramatically reduced.

    “[His] passing, on a personal level, has been so incredibly devastating and soul-crushing for me,” Robles says. “For me, it’s kind of like losing my left arm and I don’t know how to envision staying open without him…. it’s knowing there will never be another John Latino spring or fall menu — that was a rude awakening. It was a jolt, that it won’t happen again.”

    News of Latino’s death spread quickly among the extended Bongo Room community, with friends and former employees across the country reconnecting to share memories from years past. MacKay remembers Latino’s affectionate, kind demeanor, as well as his apparent inability to say a bad word about anyone, including the most difficult patrons.

    “I’d like for people to think that about me, but it really was the case with [Latino],” MacKay says. “He was always just lighthearted to be around, loving, like a unicorn. To me, he was one of a kind.”

    Robles agrees. “In the restaurant business, you can come across some pretty challenging customers, and we did throughout the past three decades,” he says. “But John never had an unkind word for anybody… He’d do anything for the people he loved. It wasn’t easy to get into John’s circle, but once you were in, you were in for life.”

    Funeral services were held on Wednesday, January 17 at Lawn Funeral Home in Tinley Park.

    [ad_2]

    Naomi Waxman

    Source link

  • Queen Mary, once a sinking white elephant, shows signs of remarkable revival

    Queen Mary, once a sinking white elephant, shows signs of remarkable revival

    [ad_1]

    The Queen Mary has for years been a landmark for the city of Long Beach, an iconic ocean liner that acted as a majestic sentry at the port and a popular attraction for both tourists and locals.

    But the aging ship has in recent years become more of a white elephant in need of millions of dollars in repairs just to stay afloat.

    Years of mounting financial woes, a pandemic shutdown and much-needed repairs made for an uncertain future for the Queen Mary. Financial audits showed the ship was running a deficit, and at least one report warned that it was at risk of sinking if it didn’t get millions of dollars in repairs.

    But now, the 90-year-old ship seems to be headed for smoother sailing, with financial records showing it is finally turning a profit for the city of Long Beach.

    On the ocean liner that has been turned into a hotel and tourist attraction, rooms are being booked, visitors are touring the ship, and the Queen Mary’s operator said the number of visitors has been outpacing the figures from before the COVID pandemic, signaling a new, hopefully better, era for the famous ship docked in the Long Beach Harbor.

    But the recent financial turnaround will do little in the short term to address the hundreds of millions of dollars in repairs needed to keep the ship afloat and open to the public.

    The Queen Mary closed for more than three years because of the pandemic, and stayed closed due to much-needed repairs. But once the ship reopened in April — this time under the city’s direction instead of a leaseholder — visitors began to return in greater numbers. The ship has about 200 rooms and several large halls that can be booked for weddings and other gatherings.

    “Even though it’s been here since 1967, it was kind of a relaunch — a new Queen Mary if you will,” said Steve Caloca, managing director of the ship under the contracted operator, Evolution.

    It was a slow reopening, with just over a dozen rooms booked in the Queen Mary in all of April. But financial records obtained by The Times show the number of bookings quickly multiplied in the coming weeks.

    By July, more than 4,300 room nights were booked in the Queen Mary, and the ship’s operator has seen at least 3,730 bookings a month since.

    “We reopened after a three-and-a-half-year hiatus, which is nice, and we’re making money, which is nice,” Caloca said.

    The Queen Mary was still operating in a deficit during the first two months it reopened, according to financial information provided by the city. By June, however, the ship’s revenue began to outpace its expenses.

    According to city records, between June and October of last year, the ship generated more than $12.6 million in revenue and more than $3 million in profits.

    It’s not just rooms in the ship’s hotel that are bringing in visitors and their cash either, Caloca said.

    “We were getting the word out that there are things to do here,” he said. “It’s not just a beautiful ship.”

    The Queen Mary began to offer old and new tours of the 1,019.5-foot ship, and hosting events to draw in locals, like $10 entry fees on Tuesdays, he said.

    A game room and revamped observation bar are there for overnight and day guests, and the ship also rolled out the commodore’s office, where officers are available to answer guests’ questions about the ship.

    “We asked, what can guests do now that they’re staying at the Queen Mary, what kind of content can we provide?” Caloca said. “We’re able to create things for people to do here in Long Beach.”

    But the ship has also needed, and continues to need, repairs and maintenance, he said.

    Much of the work done on the ship has centered on keeping the ship safe for visitors, as well as regular upkeep like painting, new flooring and lighting, and replacing new boilers and electrical transformers on the ship.

    For the Queen Mary, which has been in dire need of repairs and work for years, turning a profit in 2023 is a significant turnabout in its recent history.

    Financial audits of the ship obtained by The Times shows that from 2007 to 2009, the Queen Mary continued to see losses of more than $31 million.

    A profit could mean the ship could get some much-needed TLC to keep it financially, and literally, afloat.

    “When we get excited about the money, it’s not that we made a profit,” Caloca said. “It’s that we made money, but now we can put it back on the ship that we love so much.”

    The city of Long Beach took over the Queen Mary in 2021, after worries that the aging ship was not being maintained. One 2017 study of the ship found that it needed up to $289 million in upgrades and renovations, including much-needed work to keep parts of it from flooding.

    Court documents and inspection reports also found that it needed $23 million to keep it from capsizing.

    Making the ship a profit center for the city has been a challenge for several lease operators — including the Walt Disney Co. — that have been hired to operate the ship over the last few decades.

    In 2005, Queen’s Seaport Development Inc. filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection and was found by Long Beach to owe $3.4 million in back rent. In 2009, the hotel was also at about a 50% occupancy rate.

    Now, the profits coming in can also be geared toward new activities and entertainment to keep attracting guests into the Queen Mary, Caloca said.

    This summer, operators hope to reopen a movie theater at the ship, which can also double as a lecture hall and host other events, Caloca said. Another 100 rooms are expected to open by April.

    “It’s not just, ‘Let’s fix it so it doesn’t break,” Caloca said. “It’s also, ‘Let’s fix it and make it so people want to come.’”

    [ad_2]

    Salvador Hernandez

    Source link

  • Los Angeles-to-Baltimore drug pipeline behind triple homicide in Porter Ranch, prosecutors say

    Los Angeles-to-Baltimore drug pipeline behind triple homicide in Porter Ranch, prosecutors say

    [ad_1]

    Travis Reid was frustrated. Three packages of cash the Baltimore drug dealer had mailed to his cocaine supplier in Los Angeles had gone missing.

    Out $377,000, Reid thought the supplier, Gary Davidson, was cheating him. “I was playing fair with y’all,” one of Reid’s associates recalled him saying. Davidson, the associate added, “wasn’t playing fair.”

    Reid’s answer was to lure Davidson into a drug deal, execute him and steal 10 kilograms of cocaine to recoup his losses, Deputy Dist. Atty. Victor Avila told jurors on Monday in closing arguments at a trial for murder and attempted robbery charges against Reid and a co-defendant.

    Killed alongside Davidson, 39, in his Porter Ranch home the afternoon of Feb. 18, 2019, were Jesus Perez, 34, and Benito Vasquez Lopez, 46. Perez and Vasquez Lopez, who supplied the cocaine that Davidson thought he’d be selling to Reid, were gunned down because they were witnesses, Avila argued.

    “It doesn’t get more violent, more personal, than the way they died,” he said.

    An attorney for Reid, 44, conceded his client sold drugs and acknowledged he was at the scene of the crime, but argued it was an unidentified man from Davidson’s violent milieu who killed him.

    “This is the drug game,” the attorney, Tony Garcia, told jurors. “Everybody’s got guns.”

    Avila said that in 2017 the U.S. Postal Service began seizing kilograms of cocaine mailed from Chatsworth and Northridge to locations in Maryland and Pennsylvania. Postal inspectors also intercepted shipments of money mailed from Owings Mill, Md., a suburb of Baltimore, to the San Fernando Valley. Over a three-day period in 2018, Reid lost three packages of cash, totaling $377,000, Avila said.

    Gregory Palmer, a street-level dealer in Baltimore who bought cocaine from Reid, testified that Reid blamed someone named Gary for $450,000 to $600,000 in losses. Reid said he needed guns and silencers, according to Palmer, who testified in exchange for leniency on robbery charges.

    Prosecutors said Reid recruited a childhood friend, Kenneth Peterson, 45, to build the silencers. They presented records showing that Peterson, who lived in Durham, N.C., bought silencer components online and researched subsonic ammunition, which is quieter than standard rounds.

    Aware that Davidson lived in a gated community, Reid knew he needed to kill him without making a lot of noise, Avila argued to the jury. If neighbors heard the shots, he’d never be able to escape.

    Palmer testified he drove two handguns and two silencers in a rented Chrysler Pacifica minivan from Baltimore to Los Angeles, a drive that took two and a half days. He met Reid and Peterson at a Travelodge motel in Burbank, where they’d rented two rooms after flying into LAX. According to Palmer, Reid and Peterson put on latex gloves before loading the guns and fitting them with the silencers, which were homemade and fashioned from the tube-shaped handles of flashlights.

    The next day, Reid and Peterson checked out of one of their rooms. A housekeeper found three live rounds of subsonic ammunition on the floor, along with blue latex gloves, Avila said. The manager called the police.

    Reid and Peterson met Davidson at a shopping center in Northridge that afternoon. Believing he was going to sell Reid some cocaine, Davidson arranged for his suppliers, Perez and Vasquez Lopez, to bring the product to his home in Porter Ranch’s Renaissance gated community, Avila said.

    Surveillance footage showed Davidson driving a Dodge minivan that Reid had rented through the complex’s security gate at 2:34 p.m., with Peterson beside him. Reid followed in Davidson’s Honda Accord.

    Only the minivan would exit, 19 minutes later.

    Avila said that based on the position of the bodies and other evidence inside the two-story, five-bedroom home, Davidson probably went into a bedroom with Reid to make what he thought would be the exchange. He died wearing the latex gloves he typically wore during drug deals, Avila said.

    While Reid killed Davidson, Peterson held Perez and Vasquez Lopez at gunpoint in another room, the prosecutor argued. A woman who’d been sleeping upstairs heard several “popping sounds” and the noise of men screaming, Avila said.

    All three men were shot in the head and chest. The house was littered with casings from subsonic ammunition of the same brand recovered from the motel room, Avila said.

    “It’s all about the money,” he argued. “It’s all about the drugs. Anyone who gets in the way, they’re done.”

    Surveillance footage from the Travelodge showed Reid and Peterson return to the motel, where a Burbank police cruiser was parked outside. An officer was inside the manager’s office, collecting the ammunition seized from their room.

    In the garage of Davidson’s home, police found 2 kilograms of cocaine stamped with a “CAT” logo that resembled one found on Caterpiller brand heavy equipment. They discovered 5 more kilograms in the Toyota Camry that Perez and Vasquez Lopez had driven.

    Avila argued that Reid and Peterson stole some of the cocaine and shipped it back to Maryland, showing the jury a video filmed by one of Reid’s street-level customers that shows a brick of cocaine stamped with the CAT logo.

    Peterson’s attorney, Janae Torrez, argued that beyond his friendship with Reid, her client had no connection to the drug trade and its web of supply networks and violent men.

    “Kenneth has nothing to do with this — nothing to do with this world, nothing to do with this intricacy of how things are moving,” she said.

    Reid’s lawyer said no one but Palmer, a street dealer who was motivated to lie to lighten his prison sentence, described a dispute between his client and Davidson.

    Garcia said that because the money seized by the Postal Service was Davidson’s — Reid was paying him for cocaine that had been extended on credit — it should have been Davidson who felt cheated by the losses, not Reid.

    “We don’t know who pulled the trigger,” he insisted.

    Closing arguments will continue Tuesday.

    [ad_2]

    Matthew Ormseth

    Source link

  • Three rentals and an ADU? A narrow two-story in Venice makes the case for building up

    Three rentals and an ADU? A narrow two-story in Venice makes the case for building up

    [ad_1]

    Walk past the street-facing 1990s duplex and beyond a 1920s Sears Roebuck kit bungalow, and an accessory dwelling unit, or ADU, rises before you at the end of the property. It’s a slim, two-story rental clad in inexpensive white vertical corrugated metal.

    Only then do you realize this single Venice lot has four rental units.

    With Southern California in desperate need of housing and state and federal laws constantly evolving to make permitting ADUs easier, the detached home by architects Todd Lynch and Mohamed Sharif of Sharif, Lynch: Architecture feels like a harbinger of what’s to come.

    “When the city encouraged us to increase housing, I thought of the Venice property,” said owner Ricki Alon, who had previously worked with the architects and builder Moshon Elgrably on another project. “Given the unique site constraints, I didn’t believe they could do it. I was worried it would be too crowded and negatively affect the small guest house.”

    The two-bedroom ADU was built five feet from an existing duplex and four feet from the property line.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    Alon was hesitant at first, but after a persuasive Zoom call with the architects, they all agreed that a fourth unit would add value to the bustling community.

    “We viewed it as a challenge and a way to transcend ADUs in an SB9 world,” Sharif said, referring to Senate Bill 9, the 2022 state law that allows homeowners to convert their homes into duplexes on a single-family parcel or divide the lot in half to build another duplex for no more than four units.

    Alon loved their initial sketches despite her skepticism, and the project moved ahead.

    Attorney Henry Schober III drinks a can of seltzer in the kitchen.

    “It’s taught me how to think differently about how things are arranged and how I store things,” Henry Schober III said of his 13-foot-wide rental.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    Large windows in the living room of an ADU.

    The large windows in the living room overlook the courtyard and give the ADU an open and airy feel.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    “We decided to go as high as possible,” Sharif said of the eventual design, a slim, two-story ADU built on what was previously a driveway. Slipped into the lot, the 1,200-square-foot ADU, or IDU as the architects like to refer to the infill dwelling unit, was built an inch from the 1920s bungalow, five feet from the duplex and four feet from the property line.

    Resting a few feet from a dingbat apartment to the south, the ADU is lifted off the ground to preserve two parking spots in the alley and a swimming pool in front. “Its entire width is dictated by that two-car side-by-side dimension,” said Sharif, who teaches in the undergraduate and graduate design studios at UCLA. Lifting the volume to preserve the pool also created shade and an open space that all residents could share.

    “They refused to get rid of it,” Alon said of the water feature. “They insisted on building around it.” Today she admits it was the right decision. “Now, when you walk in, you experience a wonderful, absolutely lovely environment. I’m glad they did not listen to me,” she added with a laugh.

    A view of the living room from the top of the staircase in a two-bedroom ADU.
    The downstairs office at Henry Schober III's two-bedroom ADU.

    The narrow living room, seen from the staircase, and the first-floor office and en-suite bathroom. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    Even though you can’t see the rental from the street, the ADU has enormous curb appeal and a touch of glamour. A Midcentury-style Sputnik pendant light hangs outside the front door, giving it an elegant feel, and the white cladding gives it a distinctive quality from the other rentals, which are clad in orange metal and gray siding.

    A driveway next to a cottage and a modern duplex.

    The driveway before Sharif, Lynch: Architecture added a two-story ADU alongside a bungalow, right, and duplex, in back.

    (Sharif, Lynch: Architecture)

    Up a short flight of stairs, the front door opens to the ground floor and the two-story entry, which features a compact first-floor bedroom, study and en-suite bathroom.

    “We wanted every room to have a bathroom to suit roommates,” Sharif said.

    Tenant Henry Schober III, a 38-year-old attorney specializing in data privacy, uses the ground floor as his office and a bedroom for out-of-town guests.

    “It’s a place that I’m comfortable spending a workday in,” said Schober, who goes to the office once or twice a week. “I don’t feel like I’m trapped in my house.”

    Attorney Henry Schober III stands on the rooftop deck of his two-bedroom ADU.
    A view of Venice from the rooftop of an ADU.

    Tenant Henry Schober III takes advantage of the ADU’s rooftop deck, which offers panoramic views of Venice. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    A drone shot shows a two-story ADU slipped in between a bungalow and a modern duplex

    An overhead view shows the ADU’s proximity to the modern duplex and bungalow.

    (Steve King Architectural Imaging)

    Up the stairs to the second floor, the main living area and kitchen measure just 13 feet wide; large windows and operable skylights add light and cross-ventilation throughout the linear floor plan.

    “The windows make you feel like you’re in an amazing penthouse in SoHo,” Alon said. “It gives the room a great energy.”

    The rest of the second floor houses a powder room, bathroom and bedroom. Because of limited space, there was no room for a formal dining room. However, Schober said that’s easier to maneuver than the limited storage, which has taught him to think differently about how he stores and displays things.

    The pool at Henry Schober III's two-bedroom ADU.

    The pool was preserved to create a communal area for all tenants.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    “I eat at the long breakfast bar, and when I have people over, I use the common space or the roof deck,” he said.

    The home’s two floors feel like three, Lynch said, “because of the way the stairway draws one upward through the IDU and then because of how the roof steps up again.”

    The roof deck serves as another outdoor room, further expanding the living space. From the rooftop deck, Schober has panoramic views of Venice, not to mention ample room for a dining table, barbecue and sauna.

    After renting an apartment temporarily a few blocks from the beach, Schober was still determining whether he wanted to rent another apartment in Venice.

    A view of a modern bedroom in an ADU.

    The master bedroom on the second floor.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    “It originally turned me off to Venice,” he said. “The price points were so high. It felt like people were paying for the ZIP Code. Landlords were asking five grand for an apartment next to a parking lot.”

    But when he saw the two-bedroom ADU, he changed his mind. “When I walked in, I thought, ‘I’m going to live here,’” said Schober, who is originally from Philadelphia and moved to Los Angeles from Switzerland.

    “The apartment and the secluded feel changed my attitude,” Schober said. “You get the convenience of Venice and access to all the restaurants and shops, but you’re not in the thick of things. I lived in San Francisco for a decade, Europe for six years. I view the apartment as an oasis in a neighborhood that is not as transformed as others.”

    Schober said the strength of the architects’ vision is that the unit is quietly tucked away in a congested neighborhood. “Since you are set back from the street, there is no foot traffic,” he added. “It doesn’t feel like I am living among a bunch of units. There is little street noise, and you would never know you live a stone’s throw from Lincoln Boulevard.”

    A side view of a white staircase inside an ADU.

    Stairs lead up to the rooftop deck.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    Perhaps most impressive, the ADU defies the notion that you can’t have parking, privacy and quality of living, including a swimming pool, on a tight infill lot with other properties.

    In a sense, Schober said, “It seems the solution to the housing crisis is building up.”

    “There is a community feeling, and people know each other,” Sharif said. “They sit around the pool, and it’s very intimate and private.”

    After a 10-month building process, the team completed the project this spring at a cost of approximately $410 per square foot.

    Looking back, Alon is grateful that she moved forward with the project.

    “It’s not just a unit that brings value to the property,” she said. “It enhances the entire property for everyone. Adding housing in this condensed community is important, but this team made it something beautiful that people will enjoy. You don’t have to add a huge amount of square footage to add quality of living.”

    A lucky cat sits on an upper shelf at Henry Schober III's two-bedroom ADU in Venice.

    A lucky cat figurine sets the tone inside Henry Schober III’s two-bedroom ADU in Venice.

    (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

    [ad_2]

    Lisa Boone

    Source link

  • An abrupt jump from living in a car to an apartment is ‘almost a shock wave’

    An abrupt jump from living in a car to an apartment is ‘almost a shock wave’

    [ad_1]

    Early on the morning of Oct. 12, David Mays woke up in the Chevrolet he had been living in for two years, knowing this day would be different.

    Safe Parking L.A. had been a blessing, providing a covered space in a downtown garage, with on-site security and access to a bathroom. That was better than sleeping on the street with one eye open.

    But Mays had been hobbled by the discomfort of sleeping in the driver’s seat for months on end, and the 69-year-old caregiver had developed health concerns of his own. His legs were stiff, swollen and sore, complicating his hope of returning to work. And he was beginning to doubt promises that his wait for a place of his own would end despite the best efforts of Demi Dominguez, his Safe Parking case manager, to get him indoors.

    David Mays gives Demi Dominguez, his Safe Parking L.A. case manager, a hug of support after signing papers for his new apartment.

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    And then it happened. Dominguez learned in late summer of a possible slot for Mays at a soon-to-open apartment building in East Hollywood. The Wilcox was to be managed by The People Concern, a homeless services nonprofit, with on-site supportive services for adults 62 or older –- one of the fastest-growing segments of the state’s vast unhoused population.

    Mays drove to the Wilcox on the 12th, sat through an orientation and, finally, was escorted to his new home, a small but comfortable second-floor studio apartment.

    He was not overwhelmed, as one might expect. It was too much to process.

    California is about to be hit by an aging population wave, and Steve Lopez is riding it. His column focuses on the blessings and burdens of advancing age — and how some folks are challenging the stigma associated with older adults.

    “To be honest,” he told me, seated in his dining nook a few weeks after moving in, “I wasn’t aware. I wasn’t feeling it.”

    Mays, who speaks deliberately, turned inward, searching for the right words.

    “I had been taught to be justifiably cynical for so long, that when it finally happened, and it was real, and we’re doing this — this is your apartment — my brain almost kind of took a pause,” Mays said. “And then at some point, I realized — I think when I collapsed on that bed, and it took a couple of days for it to truly sink in –- this was my apartment.

    A man moves belongings from the trunk of his car to his new apartment unit.

    After two years of living in his car, David Mays prepares to move some of his belongings into his new apartment.

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    “I had been out there so long that this was almost the equivalent of a daydream, because I had been so far removed from what I knew to be a normal life before it all went south, “ he said. “And then to come back to some semblance of that, after two years of nothing … it’s a quantum leap.”

    Mays said the experience was “almost a shock wave … I’m lying there in that bed and I’m going, ‘Am I really here?’ I just laid out, and within 14 days, all the massive swelling went away. All of it.”

    Mays’ story is a small victory in a city with roughly 46,000 homeless people, but it’s also a window into a societal collapse and a grinding bureaucracy that has long been a symbol of government failure. Crippling housing and workforce shortages and a fragmented, dysfunctional response — along with entrenched poverty, unchecked mental illness and a raging drug epidemic — have produced a simmering humanitarian crisis visible to one and all.

    A man prepares to enter his new apartment for the first time at the Wilcox in East Hollywood

    David Mays enters his new apartment at the Wilcox in East Hollywood for the first time as community manager Daisy DePaz watches.

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    “The timeline for housing remains a multi-year process,” said Emily Uyeda Kantrim, who runs Safe Parking L.A. and said Mays was in the housing queue since 2021.

    Mays readily admits to his frustration.

    “I lost faith,” he said, telling me he came to believe that the “system” treats homelessness as a monolithic condition. In fact, it’s 46,000 puzzles, each with a different solution, but key pieces of each puzzle are missing.

    Eventually, he was buoyed by Safe Parking’s continued efforts to make a connection for him. Safe Parking helps its clients — a third of whom are older adults — with car maintenance costs and other expenses while they look for permanent housing.

    “They were with me through the whole process,” Mays said, right up to the time he moved into his new home.

    A man and a woman conversing in an apartment unit in East Hollywood.

    David Mays shares his enthusiasm about finally getting a place to live with Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass.

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    On Nov. 6, while Mays was in his room, L.A. Mayor Karen Bass was downstairs in the courtyard, presiding over the official grand opening of the Wilcox. Tackling the homelessness crisis was at the top of her agenda when she was elected a year ago, and I recall traveling across the city with her when she was a candidate, as she talked about blowing up the bureaucracy, leveraging her contacts in Washington and Sacramento, working with — rather than at odds with — county supervisors, and lowering the cost of new housing and building it faster.

    All of that remains a work in progress, but she gets high marks from some observers. Bass’ strategy of targeting problematic encampments, cutting through paperwork and leveraging her connections has changed the dynamic, said Miguel Santana, director of the California Community Foundation. Her background as a physician’s assistant has helped, too, he said, because she’s attuned to individual needs.

    “She has placed the priority on the person who is unhoused and tries to advocate for them, not for the system,” Santana said. “She’s pushing against the system.”

    “She has brought … real focus to this issue in a way no other administration has, and I’ve worked with several,” said John Maceri, director of The People Concern. “Her executive orders and directives, in terms of streamlining things, are real, and that has really expedited a lot of projects that had been languishing in the pipeline for a long time.”

    A man sits on his bed and reflects in his new apartment.

    “I had been taught to be justifiably cynical for so long, that when it finally happened, and it was real, and we’re doing this — this is your apartment — my brain almost kind of took a pause,” David Mays said.

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    Bass, like me, turned 70 in October. I had told her more than a year ago that while I was thinking it might be time to scale back my output, she was running for what would be the toughest job of her career. She told me she badly wanted the job.

    “It’s been reported that one of the fastest-growing sectors of the unhoused population are our elders, and it is a scourge on society,” Bass told a small audience before doubling down on the need to continue addressing the crisis with a sense of urgency.

    The mayor then wanted to meet some of the residents, and the first one she visited was Mays.

    “How are you?” Mays asked when she stepped into his room, and Bass volleyed the question back at him.

    “I’m disoriented a little bit,” Mays said. “I can’t believe that this is happening.”

    They talked for several minutes about his career and his health, with Bass saying she wanted to make sure he was connected to the help he needed.

    “You brighten up my day,” Bass said. “This is what we’re trying to do. This is the goal.”

    Before the mayor arrived and after she left, Mays talked about his plans, which do not necessarily include a long-term stay at the Wilcox. He worked for years as a private in-home caregiver, with room and board included, but it’s a profession in which clients move on to nursing homes or die, and Mays ended up out of work and homeless.

    A man wearing a hat walks past a billboard with the message: "Create Your Future."

    David Mays walks past a billboard with the message: “Create Your Future.”

    (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

    Given multiple health challenges, he doesn’t think he can be a live-in caregiver again, but he’d like to work day shifts if he can find the right match. He said the problem is that if he were to make more than $1,000 a month, on top of his Social Security income, he’d no longer be eligible for the apartment he just moved into.

    Mays said he’s got to figure out what to do about all of that, but emphasized that he doesn’t think of his arrival at the Wilcox as the end of his career or his aspirations.

    “I have to work that out,” he said. “This, for me, is another rest stop. And it’s a vast improvement over the last one.”

    steve.lopez@latimes.com

    [ad_2]

    Steve Lopez

    Source link

  • Hotel housekeeping jobs have fallen by 102,000 during the pandemic. What happened?

    Hotel housekeeping jobs have fallen by 102,000 during the pandemic. What happened?

    [ad_1]

    As some U.S. hotels hung on to practices they adopted during the early stages of the coronavirus pandemic — such as eliminating daily room cleanings — the number of hotel housekeepers fell by more than 102,000 last year from prepandemic levels, new data show.

    The total number of hotel housekeeping jobs as of May 2022 was 364,990, a 22% decline from the total of 467,270 such positions during the same period in 2019, according to numbers released last week by the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

    Unions…

    [ad_2]

    Source link

  • Nobody Wants To Buy The Ugly Crypto House

    Nobody Wants To Buy The Ugly Crypto House

    [ad_1]

    Good evening, savvy property investors and interested home-buyers. Have you ever dreamed of a move to Hollywood, but were put off by a million-dollar pricetag? Well have I got the deal for you.

    For sale is this four-bedroom, three-bathroom family home, located just minutes from the North Hollywood shopping centre, surrounded by “an array of shops, dining and entertainment options”. The property has been “recently updated”, with vaulted ceilings and a “kitchen [that] flows seamlessly into the living and dining areas with a wide and spacious open floor plan”.

    Normally a house like that, in a location like this, would sell for well over one million dollars, but this is no normal house. This is the CRYPTO HOUSE, and for very obvious reasons, nobody wants to buy it.

    Image for article titled Nobody Wants To Buy The Ugly Crypto House

    Originally listed in October 2022 for $1.2 million, a complete lack of interest in the property has seen its asking price plummet to just $949,000 in just a matter of weeks. It’s not just buyers who are shunning the house, either; it’s listed on AirBnB as well, with a vacancy rate of…100%. Whenever you want the place, it’s available, because nobody wants to stay there in the short term either.

    Here is how agents describe the house on property site Zillow:

    Incredible opportunity for first-time home buyers, developers, and/or investors. A contemporary 4 bedroom 3 bath home featuring a bonus structure, pool, and spacious outdoor area, perfect for entertaining and relaxing. Situated on a quiet street in a highly desirable pocket of North Hollywood, the home has been recently updated to compliment the large windows and skylights throughout. The primary bedroom features vaulted ceilings while the kitchen flows seamlessly into the living and dining areas with a wide and spacious open floor plan. The bonus structure / 4th bedroom can be converted into an ADU for supplemental income. Ideal family home or income property for savvy investors, this property is primed for the right buyer. Conveniently located near the North Hollywood shopping center, with an array of shops, dining and entertainment options.

    What they’re not mentioning is the fact the house is packed with crypto and NFT stuff splashed across almost every wall, from Bored Ape wallpaper to a bedroom covered in the Doge face. There is even, right next to the kitchen, a huge neon sign that lights up to display the words “Crypto House”.

    Image for article titled Nobody Wants To Buy The Ugly Crypto House

    There is also a room with prints of tweets all over the walls, and another themed entirely around Bitcoin logos. Oh, and a fireplace that is…metallic purple?

    This video by devlytle does a great job of taking us room-by-room:

    A quick look at the property’s sales history shows that it sold in 2016 for $520,000, then in September 2021—presumably to the current owners, who have been renting it out as a “content space”—for $960,000, which was weirdly way over the $885,000 asking price from just a month earlier.

    Image for article titled Nobody Wants To Buy The Ugly Crypto House

    Absolutely not.

    [ad_2]

    Luke Plunkett

    Source link