The Brief

When Carly Usdin started inviting friends to the Magic Castle, they always sent them a link ahead of time — the Castle’s dress code guidelines.

The club’s website lists a full breakdown of acceptable attire — “tie and suit,” “ravishing dresses” — and lists restricted choices: “all denim,” “skorts.” Back in 2015, the site presented a gendered breakdown of the dress code, asking men to “think business attire” and women “elegant attire.”

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Samanta Helou Hernandez

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LAist

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Part 2: Once inside the iconic members-only Magic Castle, queer hobbyist magician Carly Usdin starts to become disillusioned with the club. LAist Senior Producer Natalie Chudnovsky dives into how this comes to a head in 2020, when the Magic Castle faces allegations of racism and sexism. 

The Castle: Part 2

Part 2: Once inside the iconic members-only Magic Castle, queer hobbyist magician Carly Usdin starts to become disillusioned with the club. LAist Senior Producer Natalie Chudnovsky dives into how this comes to a head in 2020, when the Magic Castle faces allegations of racism and sexism. 

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Carly included the link as a joke, but it was also a warning.

“We could have a laugh,” says Carly. “And also, I think probably subconsciously to prepare them for stepping back in time in this space a little bit.”

Screenshot of Magic Castle dress code from its website, from March 2023.

Carly is trans and non-binary. Back in 2015, Carly identified as a woman, and they say that throughout their gender journey, their appearance at the Castle was always the same: gender neutral, short hair and a suit. Carly says they were usually read male in the Castle.

“It is like you are back in time in the ‘50s and anyone in a suit is a guy, anyone in a dress is a gal, and the guys should hold the door open for the gals,” says Carly.

For Carly, complicating this binary worldview meant dealing with discomfort.

“When I would be in that space, I would actively try to make myself smaller,” says Carly. “And when I brought people, there was that mix of pridefully showing them around, but also knowing that most of the people that work here are gonna call me sir.”

Carly's disillusionment

Initially, Carly accepted their discomfort as a trade-off of being a Castle member. But as they spent more time at the Castle, the gender dynamics of the club began to feel less tolerable.

One year, for their wife’s birthday, Carly booked a small-group experience at the Castle called the Houdini séance. Their friends would spend two hours with a magician who would summon the ghost of Harry Houdini.

“It's a little cheesy in a Disney's Haunted Mansion sort of way,” Carly says, “but so fun.”

The Houdini Seance Room at The Magic Castle on October 24, 2008.

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They specifically requested a woman magician to lead the performance.

“And we get there and it's just some dude and no one told us about the switch,” says Carly. “And we had a group of like queer people, trans people, Black people. And this guy trying to talk to us was like misgendering everybody in our group. Saying ma'am to people who are trans men. [Making] assumptions of heterosexuality, like, ‘Who's your husband? Who's a handsome man in your life?’”

Carly was starting to realize that the old-timey atmosphere they’d initially been so charmed by had drawbacks.

“You're like, first of all, this person's queer. Second of all, what does that have to do with Houdini?”

Carly noticed the way sexism was baked into performances and casual conversation at the club. They’d invite friends to shows, and then watch as male magicians filled their patter with jokes at the expense of women.

“I just started worrying that I was bringing people into a space where they might not be safe and I couldn't do that anymore,” says Carly. “I felt complicit and accountable.”

First, Carly stopped bringing their friends. Then they stopped learning magic. And they completely let go of their aspirations to start a club for queer magicians.

Carly Usdin, in their Magic Castle days.

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Courtesy of Carly Usdin

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“I guess I never really felt welcome enough to try to make it better,” says Carly. “I was definitely not advocating, trying to make my voice heard in a way that like I would normally do in my career. And I don't know if that's the difference between a career and a hobby. I didn't want everything in my life to be that struggle.”

After five years as a member of the Castle, Carly stopped going altogether.

They say it wasn’t a conscious decision. They still paid dues, but they let life get in the way.

'A little lady doesn’t do any magic'

Casual misogyny has always been part of Kayla Drescher’s experience in magic.

“I've been doing magic since I was 7 and the very first day I walked into a magic club, the other kids told me magic isn't for girls,” says Kayla. “And one kid offered that if I wanted, I could stay and be his assistant.”

Kayla became a professional magician nonetheless, specializing in mentalism, bar magic and comedy-based magic. She joined the Castle around the same time as Carly, but as a performer and teacher rather than a hobbyist magician.

As a booked performer, Kayla was experiencing the same unsavory aspects of the Castle as Carly — but from a much closer vantage point.

Kayla Drescher as a teenager doing a card trick.

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Courtesy of Kayla Drescher

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One evening when she was getting ready to do her bar magic act, she says a member came up to her and asked her for a drink. When Kayla pointed him in the direction of the bartender, she remembers him responding, “How are you not the bartender?” When she told him she was the magician, he said, “A little lady doesn’t do any magic.” When Kayla started her show, he left.

Kayla wanted Castle leadership to understand they’d created an environment where sexism was tolerated. She decided to start with their booking practices. She wanted to quantify the Castle’s exclusion of woman magicians. So she and another member created a spreadsheet.

She found that between 2016 and 2019, the percentage of women performers grew from about 6% to about 9% — which tracks with national numbers on women in magic. But Kayla’s spreadsheet also looked at where performers were booked, which theaters and times, and she found that women tended to get less prestigious slots: brunches and early shows.

In 2019, Kayla presented these findings to the Castle’s Board of Directors.

When asked about whether this presentation had any effects, the Castle told us that as a result, they've made an effort to book at least one woman per week, as well as magicians from underrepresented backgrounds. They didn’t address time slots or locations.

Why Kayla doesn't go to the Castle alone

Kayla says that early in her time at the Castle she was physically assaulted by two different magicians, and a third magician harassed her and followed her out to her car.

She was a young magician in her early 20s, and felt too uncomfortable to speak up — afraid she wouldn’t be believed or that it would have consequences for her career. She also remembers that the staff who observed these incidents didn’t intervene.

“It was in that moment,” she says, “I realized, 'I’m not safe here.' To this day, I will not enter the building alone.”

When we contacted the Castle about Kayla’s experiences, they said if she wanted to talk with management now, she would be listened to and taken seriously.

Kayla said for her, it wasn't about calling out any specific members or staff — but about conveying how the environment of the Castle made her not want to speak out in the first place.

Magician Kayla Drescher practices with gift cards before her performance at the Magic Castle, on October 13, 2021

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Valerie Macon

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“Magic is still this microcosm of the world, but of the world in like the ‘50s and ‘60s. It's a world of secrets,” she says. “It's a world of ‘don't tell anyone.’ It's really easy for stuff to just breed within the community and there's no outside checks and balances.”

A schism among members

In the spring of 2020 the Castle closed its doors due to the COVID pandemic. Then, that summer, the murder of George Floyd roiled Los Angeles. Carly Usdin joined many in the city to protest. Their friends clashed, at times violently, with police. Carly had journalist friends shot at with rubber bullets.

At home, Carly diligently followed the news online. One day, they saw a tweet shared into their feed — a screenshot of a Facebook post made by the Magic Castle.

Screenshot of Magic Castle Hotel post on Facebook from the summer of 2020.

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Amid the protests, the Magic Castle Hotel — the property adjacent to the Magic Castle — had let the LAPD and the National Guard set up in their empty parking lot. In the photo, a Castle Hotel staff member was giving candy bars to the National Guard.

Carly honed in on the caption: “Tonight our hearts are with the business owners and employees whose livelihoods have been destroyed.”

For Carly, it felt like the Castle had chosen a side. The parking lot move was a vote in favor of the police, and against the protesters who were being attacked.

Screenshot of Carly Usdin’s tweet, calling out the Magic Castle, June 2, 2020.

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Courtesy of Carly Usdin

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So they wrote a tweet, calling out the Castle on Twitter. And then they went to the Magic Castle members-only Facebook group — and everything that they’d been holding in about the Castle, spilled onto the page. “I felt like I’d been really quiet and essentially complicit in some of this garbage for a while,” Carly says, “and I hit a breaking point.”

Carly’s post was long and wide-ranging. They wrote about how they weren’t comfortable bringing their friends to the Castle because of the sexism they encountered there. They wrote about the treatment of their friends at the protests, about what it meant for the Castle to give its parking lot to law enforcement and shared links to different resources — for example, a primer on white privilege.

The post ended like this: “I'd love to see the [Magic Castle] turn over a new leaf and become a progressive institution dedicated to raising up newer voices of magic voices that are not all male, not all white.” Carly offered their commitment to helping with such efforts.

“There's definitely a part of me that was like, ‘This is a teachable moment and maybe they'll listen,’” Carly says, now. “Although the tone I took was very dismissive.

“I had good intentions — at least 50% good intentions. And then I think 50% chaotic screaming and just having hit a wall and feeling powerless.”

Carly’s post got 105 comments. Some members commented that they’d never personally experienced anything unsavory at the Castle, or if Carly was unhappy, they should leave.

People argued about the Castle’s environment and the nature of that summer’s protests.

The Magic Castle, in Hollywood, California on October 13, 2021.

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Others responded with stories about racism and sexism, discomfort with the orientalist artwork and other problematic aspects of the Castle’s old-boy’s atmosphere.

The Magic Castle is supposed to be a non-political organization, so Carly had never explicitly heard the views of its members. And suddenly, they were all out in the open.

A turning point  

By late summer 2020, leadership at the Castle shut down conversations on the official Facebook group, so an unofficial Facebook group popped up — and for Carly, this was a window into a different world.

“It's like the moment they go to Toon Town in Who Framed Roger Rabbit,“ says Carly. “That's how it felt. There's like this Facebook group with all these progressive, interesting people that are at the Magic Castle.”

In Zoom meetings, members shared their stories and frustrations about the Castle — and also, came up with suggestions and solutions, talking about how they might put pressure on the club.

While the Castle did not apologize for the parking lot situation, after a small protest outside the Castle, they did put out a statement saying that Black lives matter. The Castle’s Board announced that they would create a Diversity and Inclusion Committee.

The Castle wasn’t alone in announcing its intentions to do better — institutions nationwide created DEI committees. According to the Society for Human Resource Management, DEI-related job openings spiked by 55% in the immediate month after George Floyd’s murder.

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“It definitely felt like a turning point,” says Carly. “Is the Castle going to move forward into the future? Are we going to be on the right side of history as so many industries, as so many groups have faced those moments of reckoning?”

In 2020, Kayla Drescher joined the nascent Diversity and Inclusion Committee — and Carly wanted in, too. They saw it as a chance to fulfill the dreams they had for the Castle when they first joined — to build a community and make it a more inclusive, more progressive institution.

“My anger and frustration with the situation had started to give way to optimism, excitement, hope. Like, I don't know where this is going, but maybe someone will listen,” says Carly.

And then that hope was punctured, by a single email from the Ethics and Grievance Committee.

When Carly joined the Magic Castle, they’d signed a Member code of conduct, agreeing not to disparage the Castle. Two members felt that Carly had done so, when posting on Twitter and Facebook.

They’d filed a grievance, asking that Carly be kicked out.

Find out what happens next, on Part III. Coming Dec. 13.

L.A. County health officials Wednesday confirmed the county's seventh measles case this year — a traveler who passed through Hollywood Burbank Airport on the morning of June 17.

They're warning people who may have come in contact with the person of possible exposure to the highly contagious virus.

What you should know: Public health officials say the infected traveler arrived on Southwest Airlines Flight 4245 Gate A4 on June 17 at the Hollywood Burbank Airport. Anyone who was at that gate between 8:45 to 9:45 a.m. may have been exposed.

Officials also noted that people who were at the Thrifty Rental Car Service on June 17 from 9:20 to 10:20 a.m. and on June 18 from 10:25 to 11:25 a.m. may have been exposed. That's located at 2627 N. Hollywood Way in Burbank.

What if I was on the flight? Public health officials say passengers sitting next to the traveler will be notified by local health departments and should monitor for symptoms. Keep in mind those symptoms could appear up to three weeks after you were exposed.

Symptoms to look out for: Common symptoms include runny nose, fever cough, or a rash. It's also important if you develop these symptoms, don't just walk into a health care center without calling ahead first.

For people exposed on June 17, the last day to monitor for symptoms is July 8. For those exposed on June 18, the last day to monitor for symptoms is July 19.

How can I protect myself?: It's important to check if you are vaccinated against the measles. As health officials noted in the news release reporting the latest case: "The most effective way to protect yourself and your family is with the measles-mumps-rubella (MMR) vaccine."

The Los Angeles Unified Board voted unanimously to appoint Andres Chait, a longtime district administrator, as superintendent days after his predecessor resigned.

 “This board's decision reflects the confidence in Mr. Chait's leadership, his decades of service to Los Angeles Unified, and his demonstrated ability to guide the district during this period of transition,” said board President Scott Schmerelson.

The board met privately to discuss the district’s top job three days after Alberto Carvalho resigned. Carvalho wrote in a letter that he was leaving “because I believe our schools must remain focused on students and learning without distraction.”

The board placed Carvalho on paid administrative leave following FBI searches of his home and district office in February and appointed Chait acting superintendent. Carvalho has not been charged with a crime and has maintained his innocence.

Who is Andres Chait?

Chait rose through the ranks from teacher to administrator at LAUSD over nearly three decades. The responsibilities of his most recent role, chief of school operations, included overseeing school safety, athletics and the district’s office of emergency management.

Chait thanked the board, the community and his family after the announcement Wednesday and reflected on his first day as a kindergarten teacher 30 years ago. “ I was probably more nervous than the kids were, but I knew then that this was a place where I could make a positive difference in the lives of students and families,” Chait said. “I've always known that there is no greater accelerator of change and opportunity than the schoolhouse, and that is still true today.”

Under Chait's interim leadership, the district successfully negotiated new contracts with its largest labor unions — avoiding a massive strike by teachers, principals and staff — and passed a significant reduction-in-force plan and fiscal stabilization plan.

Chait is the first district staff member to be selected as full-time superintendent since Michelle King in 2016.

What is the superintendent responsible for?

LAUSD is the country’s second-largest school district, employs 83,000 people and enrolls more than 400,000 students across more than 1,000 schools. Despite recent gains in student test scores, the majority of students are not proficient in reading and math skills for their grade level. The district also faces looming financial challenges from declining enrollment — which is tied to state funding — and federal investigations into programs designed to help underserved students succeed.

A former state parks superintendent who oversaw Orange County beaches was charged Wednesday with secretly filming naked male lifeguards and other workers inside the locker room at Bolsa Chica State Beach. The former superintendent, Kevin Pearsall, is also accused of sending some of the images to two other men.

What charges does he face?

Pearsall, 59, of Long Beach, faces five felony counts of eavesdropping, 23 misdemeanor counts of secretly filming another and three misdemeanor counts of unlawful dissemination of private recordings. If convicted on all charges, he faces a maximum sentence of 18 years and eight months behind bars.

Scott C. Thomas, a defense attorney representing Pearsall, declined to comment in the wake of the charges being announced by the Orange County District Attorney's office. Pearsall is scheduled to be arraigned Aug. 6 and could enter a plea at that time.

Details of the investigation

In July 2025, a California State Parks officer discovered a USB stick with a hidden camera in the men's locker room at Bolsa Chica State Beach Lifeguard Headquarters. The officer contacted California Highway Patrol, which launched an investigation.

The investigation found Pearsall allegedly had recorded numerous secret videos in the locker room over an 11-month period beginning in August 2024, according to the DA's announcement. Pearsall retired from his job shortly after CHP served search warrants in the case. He turned himself in earlier this week.

State Parks reaction

Marty Greenstein, a spokesperson for California State Parks, told LAist the agency “takes these charges very seriously and has fully cooperated with law enforcement through every step of the investigation.” Greenstein declined to comment further, citing the active criminal investigation.

Making your way through South Coast Plaza — the sleek consumer cathedral in Costa Mesa, a sort of mall of malls — past Uniqlo window displays and Pop Mart blind boxes, there's a good chance you'll eventually land at Tiny's, the new casual restaurant from Chef Sang Yoon.

The burger shack-meets-Asian convenience store is the latest from Yoon, best known for Father's Office, the Los Angeles institution where he's spent two decades running one of the city's most uncompromising kitchens — no substitutions, no exceptions.

Tiny’s marks Yoon’s first venture into Orange County — a deliberately accessible entry point for a chef who has spent decades at the top of L.A.'s gastropub scene.

The concept

Tiny's is the place Yoon wanted to exist as a kid.

Inside, you're greeted by shelves stocked in the style of a konbini, the beloved Japanese convenience corner store, with cilantro-flavored Doritos from China, elote-flavored Turtle Chips from Korea and, for the purists, the requisite Japanese Kit-Kats and Pocky too.

At the counter, a friendly employee greets you beneath a letterboard menu anchored by Yoon’s signature 30-day dry-aged beef burger. Starting at $9 for a plain burger, up to $12 for the Tokyo Dog dressed in bonito flakes and furikake, there's also salt and vinegar tots, french fries, miso mac 'n' cheese and soft serve that runs from Straus vanilla to Pineapple Dole Whip, available as a swirl, cup, cone or float. That's the menu, streamlined by design.

Chef Sang Yoon's cheeseburger and Tokyo Dog at Tiny's, his new fast-casual concept inside South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa

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Grid Vongpiansuksa

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Courtesy Tiny's Burger

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For Yoon, the son of Korean immigrants who grew up between two worlds, the idea of opening a burger stand with a konbini was about tapping into the happy place of his memories: after school with friends, trying out the latest snacks to hit the market to Friday nights with the entire family celebrating after a long week of grinding it out with burgers and chili fries.

"The corner burger stand is where life happened. ... What if those two of my favorite things were under one roof?" said Yoon.

Tiny the dog

Inspiration for the name Tiny’s came from a somewhat unlikely place: Yoon’s beloved Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Yoon describes her as appearing extremely cute and friendly, but in reality, she was actually sassy and judgmental. Illustrations bearing Tiny’s "don't mess with me" vibe can be seen throughout the restaurant.

“People would rather hear this from a sassy, cute dog than me. So I decided that we should channel Tiny. And let this belong to her," Yoon said.

The food

The cheeseburger itself is simple: a thin patty topped with melted American cheese and Tiny's signature sauce — a blend of Kewpie mayo, caramelized gochujang, ssamjang and tomato — finished with pickle chips and a bed of lettuce.

What sets it apart is what you can’t see, the same 30-day dry-aged chuck Yoon has used at Father’s Office for over 25 years.

“I still don’t think there’s any product superior to that for the purpose of a hamburger,” he said.

The spread at Tiny's includes the cheeseburger, miso mac 'n' cheese, chicken nuggets, tater tots, fries and a jammy egg sando — a konbini staple in Japan.

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Grid Vongpiansuksa

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Courtesy Tiny's Burger

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The nuggets ($10) had a crispy, craggy exterior finished with visible seasoning crystals, a small but deliberate touch, and came with a fresh herbaceous dipping sauce. As for the chili fries ($8), the chili itself was sufficient as an L.A.-style chili (think Tommy's), but since Lao Gan Ma chili crisp was promised in the name, I was expecting that distinctive, crunchy, fermented kick — but left wanting more of it. It felt more like a whisper than a statement.

The miso mac 'n' cheese ($6) was a highlight of the meal, especially for someone who doesn't usually order mac 'n' cheese. Fresh ridged elbow pasta with a proper chew in each bite, and salty morsels of miso folded into a tight cheese sauce had me picking up forkfuls until it was mostly gone. Consider my position reconsidered.

Encouraged, I went back and ordered a Dole Whip ($7). The electric, tangy flavor, paired with the soft creaminess, served as a suitable exclamation point for my lunch that day.

With Tiny's, Yoon has built his most personal restaurant — accessible in price, but uncompromising in intention.

Could mall food now be on a new trajectory? Perhaps we've finally transcended corn dogs at Hot Dog on a Stick and cinnamon rolls at Cinnabon.

After dining at Tiny’s, all signs point to yes.