The Brief

To many locals, the Los Angeles River — hugged by concrete embankments and heavy vehicle traffic — hardly seems like a river at all.

The waterway bisecting the city was converted to a giant storm drain nearly a century ago to contain flood waters. Today, it's an extension of the urban network of concrete, running beneath freeways and bridges as it collects all kinds of refuse: spent tires, scrap metal, trash thrown from car windows.

But when Doug Rosenberg came upon a shopping cart tipped over in the river's shallow waters back in 2020, he saw the potential to meet nature halfway.

"It had begun to bloom some greenery around it, and there was a great blue heron perched on the cart, hunting in this little spot," Rosenberg recalled. "That was when it clicked for me — that any 3D geometry at all in that river channel will trap sediment, will begin a micro-bloom of ecosystem."

Doug Rosenberg is trying to push the grassroots guerrilla gardening movement forward in Los Angeles.

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The 36-year-old artist saw an amusing paradox — life sprouting from the metal cart — that planted the seed for his next project: a pop-up wetland in the middle of the LA River.

In a desolate part of downtown, he pushed large rocks from the riverbanks into the water and arranged them in loose, concentric circles. The structure would trap sediment, allowing life to take root.

In other words, Rosenberg produced a patch of watery land — like a marsh or swamp — to support plants and animals.

Over the course of 10 weeks, the simple assemblage of rocks spawned a totally new 10-by-20-foot green island in the middle of the 100-foot-wide channel.

Rosenberg calls it performance art: a visual statement that carries a call to action. The wetland installation isn't quite what he'd call "impactful ecology," but rather a work of art to show environmental good can be low-tech and small-scale.

"The impetus behind this project is to show that the barrier to entry doesn't exist. To basically provide a simple format for action," he said.

Guerrilla gardeners

It's not so much that the barriers don't exist — they do — he's just flouting them, city officials say. Despite his good intentions, none of this is legal. He's a guerrilla gardener: someone who plants where they're not supposed to. The federal government deems this flood control channel "navigable water," providing protections under the Clean Water Act and making any unauthorized changes to its course illegal. That includes obstructions and modifications in the channel, such as dredging or disposal of materials like rocks.

Across the country, as urban development replaces tree cover and natural landscapes with buildings and parking lots, guerrilla gardeners flout local ordinances to disperse seeds or otherwise alter their environment, usually with an overriding mission to reclaim underused public spaces. They seek to grow healthy produce in urban food deserts, capture greenhouse gases and beautify their neighborhoods.

The movement has taken many forms, from creating a verdant oasis for the nation's largest housing project in New York City, to planting a front-yard vegetable garden in defiance of state law in Florida, to grooming a busy bike path in Seattle.

Here in LA, Rosenberg's guerrilla tactics include trespassing and planting without permits in the publicly managed waterway. Getting to his wetland requires jumping railroad tracks and scaling down the steep side of the channel to the riverbed. But as far as he's concerned, it's open to the public.

Rosenberg (right) and a few volunteers walk past railroad tracks to get to the river.

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"I feel like it's possible to relate to a city the way we're used to relating to nature — or as we imagine we could relate to unspoiled wilderness," he said.

But officials and longtime river advocates say people can't plant wherever they want, and that guerrilla actors have the potential to do more harm than good.

"Even small changes can affect water quality, habitat, and safety downstream," said Ben Orbison, a spokesman for Friends of the LA River, an advocacy group focused on revitalization efforts, including cleanups along the waterway. "Restoration is incredibly important, but works best when guided by ecology and collaboration," with local and federal agencies to prioritize safety, he added.

Chief among the concerns is flooding.

"If you have rocks, if you have vegetation, if you have other things that slow the water down then it builds up faster. That's where you get the overtopping of the channel," said Ben Harris, an attorney with Los Angeles Waterkeeper, an environmental watchdog group.

Crews place rock on the LA River's banks during channelization in 1938.

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The whole reason the Los Angeles River became a concrete straightjacket was to prevent a repeat of the city's devastating floods in the 1930s. The Army Corps of Engineers channelized and paved the once-meandering river. The roughly 51-mile channel continues to serve as a hydro-highway shuttling stormwater runoff from the mountains to the sea.

Generally, local officials and river advocates are far ahead of Rosenberg in revitalizing the channel. In recent years, the city has built several projects under a master plan designed to resurrect some of the river's natural habitat and expand public access. But progress is slow. Legal roadblocks and budget constraints have delayed the implementation of many proposals.

Beyond the bike paths and trails lining the waterway, the efforts are most visible in parts of the river where the soil was left unpaved. Willows, egrets and frogs populate soft-bottom sections where springs and a high water table would reject a concrete casing. And, upstream from Rosenberg's wetland, there's a plan in the works to build what's essentially a larger, permanent version of the artist's project. Long before Rosenberg plunked his first rock into its waters, the city adopted a plan to turn an 11-mile section of the river into a wetland to allow the safe passage of salmon.

Still, some city staff give guerrilla artists a lot of credit for laying the groundwork.

"The biggest shift points in the river's history were made, in my opinion, not necessarily the legal way," said Kat Superfisky, an urban ecologist with the city, but from "the community advocate, artist, guerrilla kind of efforts."

'He's onto something'

On social media, Rosenberg shares his art with a wider audience than was made available to his artist-activist predecessors. People curious about his project have reached out to him, asking how they can help support it. He's invited them to join him on his visits to the wetland, where he's put them to work. Others have taken issue with Rosenberg's accommodation of an invasive plant species in his wetland. It's mostly populated by Goodding's willow, a native species, and creeping water primrose, a non-native invasive. Those non-native plants tend to crowd out native habitat, drink more water and lead to increased use of toxic pesticides.

Some people accustomed to reading the river's currents say the wetland will be gone before it can cause any lasting harm to the river. In the likely event of a heavy rain, the rising tide in the river channel could wipe out the wetland, washing it into the ocean.

Canadian geese come in for a landing near the mini-wetland, in a downtown section of the LA River.

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From an ecological standpoint, Superfisky says "he's onto something," in terms of thinking about how to recreate conditions found in a natural, sprawling river using the impractical medium he's given.

The channel functions like a straight, unobstructed tube, she said. But the placement of rocks allow sediment buildup and produce varied flow patterns — much like grooves in braiding streams — to set up stiller pockets where wildlife can thrive.

But it all falls apart if he's not accounting for flood risk, the ecologist said.

Harris, of the watchdog LA Waterkeeper, thinks flood management and ecological values can coexist in a concrete channel.

Removing the concrete would open up more possibilities, he said, adding that there are "a variety of nature-based solutions" for the channel that support flood management.

Volunteer Isaac Cohen places more rocks around the guerrilla wetland.

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But an overhaul of the existing concrete flood management system would also require big shifts in mindset.

"It's kind of a scary thought," he said. "If you imagine being a policymaker in government and you're trying to do that, you have to turn things on its head."

The Army Corps of Engineers has not responded to requests for comment. According to its website, the agency works to clear vegetation it warns can clog the channel and hamper flood control. But the agency has recently prioritized the removal of non-native species due to lack of funding, the site notes.

"They probably would just talk to him and explain rather than prosecute anything, or they might just go in and take it away," said Felicia Marcus, a fellow at Stanford University's Water in the West program and a former head of the city of Los Angeles' public works department.

Rosenberg says he understands the consequences.

"If they throw a book at me, it'll be quite a big book, but I'm at the point where that's less urgent to me than making art that obviously deserves to get made," he said.

Guerrillas lay the groundwork to rewrite the rules

Passersby who look down from nearby bridges can spot the pop-up wetland.

Artists have long exploited that legal gray area around what's considered public land.

Historically, it was the late Lewis MacAdams, a poet and activist, whose guerrilla tactics expanded public access to the LA River. In 1985, MacAdams and friends cut open a fence blocking its entry and declared the river open to the people.

Through Friends of the LA River, the advocacy group he founded, MacAdams made sure the city wouldn't forget the river that birthed it. He promoted it as a resource that people should protect, restore and enjoy.

During a meeting with the county, as MacAdams told it, whenever the head of the public works department referred to the waterway as a "flood control channel," he would shoot back with "river." In 2008, kayakers carried the baton, when writer George Wolfe led a scofflaw fleet of paddlers down the entire waterway to prove that it was "navigable waters" so it could keep its Clean Water Act protections. Two years later, the Environmental Protection Agency agreed with what MacAdams had started and designated the river as navigable.

"He didn't know jack doodle scratch about the river or river ecosystems at that time. He led with his artistic passion," Superfisky said. "But then, my golly, he is the one guy that really got us to start calling it a river again."

Superfisky says Rosenberg is having his "Lewis MacAdams moment."

Knowing his wetland experiment could wash away in an instant, Rosenberg said he feels there's some wiggle room to experiment and make mistakes.

Rosenberg acknowledges the dangers that can spring from an uneducated approach. "I wouldn't push back on someone calling it reckless, to be honest," he said.

But he's more focused on the good he says can come from "vigorous action." He says that, among his millennial peers and younger generations, "a sense of attainability and agency" is lacking when it comes to helping chip away at big-picture issues like climate change.

Rosenberg acknowledges the dangers that can spring from a freewheeling approach to ecological art. But he says there's also value in "vigorous action," adding: "There's a long history in ecological actions of perfect being an argument against the good happening at all."

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He's aware that there are legal avenues available to produce ecological art. He appreciates that artist Lauren Bon, for example, has secured more than 70 permits as part of an ongoing project to divert water from the river that could irrigate a state park nearby. But Rosenberg thinks there's room for some freewheeling.

"Maybe it's not about waiting for permits or even about waiting to feel like you've mastered the material," he said. "There's a long history in ecological actions of perfect being an argument against the good happening at all."

Nature bats last

On a recent Saturday evening, during one of his public tours, Rosenberg handed out scythes and an agenda to whack away the invasive plants.

Allie Baron, a lifelong LA resident, brought her two sons with her after reaching out to Rosenberg on Instagram.

Allie Baron brought her two sons with her to help Rosenberg tend to the guerrilla wetland.

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As she gleefully tore out a creeping primrose, the 36-year-old said, "All I can do is try to make my community better and make the river pretty. You do what you can to try to restore life to things that need help."

Caught in the wetland brush was a blue rubber bullet — just like the ones LAPD officers had deployed during the anti-ICE protests held in downtown LA this summer, over immigration raids.

"One of the cool things about a structure like this is that it's trapping that stuff," Rosenberg said. "The rubber bullet was here and not in the ocean yet."

That and some oily sheen on the watery patch of willows were another reminder of the intensely urban environment.

Later, the guerrilla group witnessed a hawk snatch its dinner from the water.

A few days after that, the forecast from river pundits proved accurate. It rained, filling the channel with a fast-moving current.

"The garden is gone," Rosenberg said.

He says he'll start gardening again in the spring.
Copyright 2025 NPR

Allie Baron's son Robert carries a bunch of invasive water primrose pruned from the guerrilla wetland.

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The University of Southern California board of trustees has appointed interim president Beong-Soo Kim to be its 13th full president.

Kim was named as the interim leader in February 2025 and began the role this summer. He most recently served as USC’s senior vice president and general counsel, and as a lecturer at the law school. Prior to joining USC, he worked at Kaiser Permanente and was a federal prosecutor for the Central District of California.

Kim succeeds Carol Folt, who was brought on to stabilize the university following a series of scandals under the administration before hers. She formally stepped down from her role in July, following criticism of her ability to handle student protests and concerns over fiscal stewardship.

Soon after his term began, Kim oversaw the university’s effort to manage a $200 million deficit, which also led to hundreds of layoffs.

“We did have to make some difficult decisions last year with respect to our budget and layoffs,” Kim told LAist. “And I'm really pleased that as a result of those difficult decisions, we're now in a much stronger financial position and really for a number of months have been really focusing on the opportunities that we see on the horizon.”

In a call with LAist, and joined by USC board chair Suzanne Nora Johnson, Kim touched on bright spots and some of his priorities. He also touched on the relationship between USC and the Trump administration before a sudden ending to the call.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

LAist: You've talked about addressing the mass layoffs and budget challenges. What do you see as the way forward?

Beong-Soo Kim: Our research expenditures have actually been going up over the last year, over the last couple of years. We're focusing on: How do we provide the best possible educational value to our students? We're focusing on how to maintain and strengthen our academic culture of excellence, open dialogue and engagement with different viewpoints.

And we're also really kind of leaning into artificial intelligence and asking questions as a community about how we incorporate AI responsibly into our education, into our operations, into our research. And there are obviously a lot of important ethical questions that we're working on, and it's really an quite an exciting time to be in the position that I'm in.

What are you excited for?

Well, a couple things that we're really looking forward to are, as part of the anniversary of the United States, we're going to be hosting a National Archives exhibition [of] founding documents in late April. We're also looking forward to helping host the L.A. Olympics in 2028. We have our 150th anniversary coming up in 2030 as a university.

So there's a lot that's on the horizon. We also have the Lucas Museum opening up across the street later this year and, of course, George Lucas is one of our most beloved Trojan alumni. So there's so much vitality, so much energy on the campus right now.

USC has, for the most part, avoided the sort of conflicts that the University of California system and elite private institutions across the country have had with the Trump administration. What can you share about how you plan to manage USC’s relationship with the federal government?

Well, we really make an effort to engage with all levels of government, as well as foundations, the private sector, community groups. That kind of engagement is really more important nowadays. Universities can't just go off on their own. It's important for us to partner and find opportunities to work with others. And that's what we've been doing.

And that's part of the reason why I think that our research has continued to go strongly. And I give a lot of the credit to our faculty and researchers who can continue submitting grant applications and continue to do research in areas that are critically important to the benefit of our community, our nation, and our world. And I think that we -—

Suzanne Nora Johnson: —Actually I'm so sorry, but we have to complete the board meeting, and we've got to run. Thank you so much for your time. I really appreciate it. We'll be in touch. Bye. Thanks. Bye.

Huntington Beach will ask the U.S. Supreme Court to review a decision striking down the city’s controversial voter ID law.

What’s the backstory?

Huntington Beach voters approved a measure in 2024 allowing the city to require people to show ID when casting a ballot. That contradicts state law — voters in California are asked to provide ID when they register to vote but generally not at polling places.

The ensuing court battle

The state and a Huntington Beach resident promptly sued the city over the voter ID law and won an appeals court ruling striking down the law. The California Supreme Court declined to review the decision earlier this month. The state also passed a law prohibiting cities from implementing their own voter ID laws.

Then, the City Council voted unanimously this week to ask the U.S. Supreme Court to weigh in.

Does the city have a shot?

The Supreme Court gets 7,000 to 8,000 requests to review cases each year. The Court grants about 80 of these requests, so the city’s chances of getting the court’s attention are statistically slim.

There’s also a question of whether or not the city’s voter ID case meets the Court’s criteria for review — SCOTUS addresses questions of federal law. Mayor Casey McKeon said it does, in a news release, noting a 2008 Supreme Court decision that upheld a state’s voter ID law — in Indiana. But Huntington Beach is a city, and the question in its voter ID case is whether or not a city can implement its own requirements for voting, even if it clashes with state law.

Go deeper

• Huntington Beach's controversial voter ID law is illegal
• Huntington Beach clashes with California over voter ID requirement in court
• HB Mayor defends Voter ID measure as Gov. Newsom seeks to ban it
• Listen 26:32

  The Trump Administration wants your confidential voter data. What’s behind their battle with CA and other states?

When last year’s Eaton Fire burned the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center, cantor Ruth Berman Harris helped save what she could from the flames.

Despite best efforts, the campus and nearly everything in it was destroyed.

“I had a colleague calling me and asking me what I needed, and I wasn't able to say,” Berman Harris, one of the spiritual leaders of the synagogue, told LAist. “I don't think I was able to say what I needed for about a year.”

In the months that followed the fire, people from around the world stepped up to replace what was lost, including prayer books, clothes and candlesticks. Several donated challah covers, a decorative cloth that’s placed over the braided bread before being blessed and eaten on Shabbat.

A parking sign at the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center after the Eaton Fire.

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And while much of the community’s focus is directed toward larger items that need to be replaced — the buildings included — smaller, ceremonial items can make a big difference, too.

Karen Fink, a Van Nuys resident, donated a hand-woven challah cover that she made for the temple. Her weaving guild was already making dish towels for L.A. fire survivors.

“You've got so many things that need to be done and replaced,” Fink said.

“I just always like to think about who it's going towards, what it's going to be used for, that it should be used well and loved,” she continued.

‘Love through the threads’

On Jan. 7, 2025, as the flames closed in on the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center, Berman Harris rushed through smoke and falling embers to rescue all 13 sacred Torah scrolls, pieces of parchment with Hebrew text used at services, including weekly on Shabbat.

Berman Harris now works out of an office building in Pasadena, a few miles away from where the center stood.

More than 400 families gathered to worship at the temple before the fire. About 30 families lost their homes, and 40 others were displaced, she said. The congregation has been gathering at the First United Methodist Church in Pasadena.

The Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center, which burned during the Eaton Fire, in January 2025 (top) and in January 2026 (bottom).

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“The silver lining of when you go through a traumatic loss is that you don't realize A, how strong you are and B, how not alone you are,” said Berman Harris, who has been a part of the congregation for 14 years.

She said the temple has received many gifts to help them rebuild, but Fink’s challah cover will be used for communal celebrations and holidays to give it an extra layer of “kavod” — of holiness.

Challah covers, usually embroidered with Hebrew words and symbols, are a traditional sight on a table prepared for a Shabbat meal, where both the bread and a cup of wine are blessed before eating. The decorative cover is a symbolic way of honoring the bread, while the wine is being blessed first.

“Because you say the blessing over the bread last,” Fink told LAist. “It gets to have this lovely cover so it doesn't get embarrassed.”

Fink said she used one of her more intricate patterns, featuring white and blue threads in a repeating pattern of the Star of David.

The challah cover woven by Karen Fink when it was fresh off the loom.

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She said it took a couple of hours to wind the thread, about a day to get the project set up on her small loom and another three days to get through the top six rows of stars.

Once the challah cover was complete, it took a few months to get it to Berman Harris, but Fink said she wanted to help in a way that felt more personal than mailing a check.

“They were able to get their Torah scrolls out,” Fink said. “But all the other things that maybe aren't required, but are helpful in enhancing the spirit of Shabbat, the spirit of a synagogue, you know, that was all lost.”

Starting to settle

Berman Harris said the donations have not only helped rebuild their ritual spaces, they were gifted “with love.”

“They're not things you buy on Amazon,” she said. “These are things that you cherish because you can feel the love through the threads.”

Cantor Ruth Berman Harris showing off the handmade challah cover Karen Fink weaved for the congregation.

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The synagogue has received other challah covers that they’ve distributed to families in the congregation.

On the anniversary of the fire, Josh Ratner, senior rabbi at the temple, told LAist’s AirTalk program that Jewish people have overcome “so much” throughout history.

People embrace inside a tent on the grounds of the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center during a commemoration of the one-year anniversary of the Eaton Fire on Jan. 6.

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“I think that that gives us some firm foundation to know that we can recover from this as well,” he said. “And not just recover, but really our [history] … is one of rebuilding even stronger than before.

“Each time there's been a crisis, we've been able to reinvent different aspects of Judaism and to evolve."

Students carry lanterns they created as symbols of hope as they enter the grounds of the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center during a commemoration of the one-year anniversary of the Eaton Fire.

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