The Brief

After the Eaton Fire burned across Altadena a year and half ago, an unusual sight reappeared up amid the ashes and debris: a giant werewolf wearing a large T-shirt, with a big rainbow-colored heart that said, “I love Altadena.”

“Where he sits on that hill, the sun behind him when we were there in the evening, the sun was setting and the clouds were perfect. It was just such a weirdly hopeful thing,” said Taylor Jennings, who was visiting from Fresno last summer when he saw Norman standing over the fire-torn intersection of Lincoln Avenue and Mariposa Street.

“All around there’s devastation, and there’s an 8-foot [tall] werewolf. At that point, I realized how Altadena is feral, and he just seemed like the perfect mascot,” Jennings said.

Norman Jr., as the werewolf is affectionately known, appeared on this burned-out corner lot in West Altadena just days after the fire, replacing a previous werewolf that popped up on the property a few years earlier.

Both belong to Jubilee House, a large sober living home for men operated by the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles. One of the residents bought the original werewolf just in time for Halloween a few years ago and named him Norman — a nod to the home’s eerie resemblance to Norman Bates’ house in the 1960 classic slasher film Psycho.

Courage Escamilla hams it up with Norman Jr. on a recent weekday afternoon.

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Steven Cuevas

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House manager Brian Woodruff said trick-or-treaters would never stop by the house.

“Every year I bought candy, every year,” Woodruff said, laughing, as he stood on the cleared lot near Norman Jr. “And I always ended up being the one eating all the candy!”

That changed after Norman appeared on the front lawn. The trick-or-treaters came in droves, lured by the werewolf’s grinning fangs and gnarled outstretched arms. They’d stop and take pictures with Norman and leave gifts and thank you notes. So, the guys at the house decided to keep him up year-round and started creating new outfits for Norman to mark the changing of the seasons.

“Summer was coming up, we can get the Big-and-Tall catalog, we can order him a tank top,” Woodruff recalled. “And then I went online, and I found some oversized sunglasses,” he said, chuckling at the memory.

Then came the fire. All ten residents of Jubilee House got out safely, but the place burned to the ground. Among the debris lay the mangled pieces of Norman’s metal limbs.

“The first time I came up, I didn’t expect to be so disoriented, you probably experienced this, too,” said Pastor Tim Hartley, the director of the Jubilee House program. “I didn’t know where I was.”

A few weeks later, hoping to boost morale, Hartley started shopping for and found a replacement: Norman Jr.

“Once we put up that werewolf, it became this landmark [after the fire] that people could use for where they were in Altadena, as well as this source of hope for people,” Hartley said.

That’s what Norman Jr. came to symbolize for longtime Altadena resident Courage Escamilla.

“He’s kind of a symbol for people in town who for their whole life have struggled to ever feel like they fit in because they’re eccentric or different or stand out,” Escamilla said.

Rigoberto Gonzales runs through the extensive menu of his Mexican food truck.

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After the fire, he became an advocate and community booster, helping to organize rallies and fundraisers. Escamilla’s hard to miss, usually pulling up to community events on his motorcycle, sporting a red durag, with a raccoon tail dangling from the back of his waistband.

“You feel like you’re now in a community that embraces the weird, the unusual, and so for me, Norman represents the message that we embrace and appreciate the strange and unusual in this town,” Escamilla said.

After all, he said, fictional “monsters” are often just misunderstood.

“They’re often unfairly targeted, and I always felt like I related to that on some subconscious level and have always loved monsters for the fact that they can be loved,” Escamilla said.

“Symbols of things that were previously seen as repugnant are now seen as something that represents love and acceptance, and I find that rather special.”

Norman Jr.’s main character was another Altadena resident who lost her home. She stepped up to the task, creating new seasonal outfits and making sure he stayed upright when it was stormy.

On a spring day, she draped the werewolf’s plastic and metal body and articulated limbs in a form-fitting fake fur suit with a big red heart on its chest, hand-stitched for his frame.

With everyone from the sober living home scattered to new locations, Hartley welcomed her help.

“She honored this space in a way that I just appreciated,” Hartley said. “And then she’d say, he’s a little rickety, so I’m going to put out the word to have people come help me secure him, and these strangers would all gather to help, which I just loved.”

Norman Jr.’s caretaker declined to be interviewed and asked that we not use her name. But she did explain how Norman’s corner became a refuge for her after losing her home in the fire.

Pastor Tim Hartley shows off a Norman Jr. T-shirt, hand-screened by a local artist, to commemorate the Eaton Fire.

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Photos of the wolfman wearing the outfits she created started blowing up on social media, and life started returning to the neighborhood, with the pace of rebuilding picking up speed.

That’s when the little green taco truck from the San Fernando Valley appeared.

Behind the wheel was Rigoberto Gonzales. Also, a plumber who moonlights doing work on home rebuilds around town, Gonzales saw a need for food options that could appeal to the growing army of construction workers.

Knowing nothing about Norman’s story, he parked his lime green truck beneath the giant oak tree that shares the same corner. Norman’s caretaker was not happy. She asked Gonzales to move, even though his vehicle didn’t disturb or block access to the werewolf.

“Every time I see her, she was so mad, for no reason,” Gonzales said, as he took a break from the truck on a recent afternoon.

“Then she later tells me what’s the reason. She just doesn’t want me to be here.”

The conflict simmered for weeks. Gonzales said he felt unfairly targeted. He said he asked her why he needed to move.

“I mean, give me the reason [why] I have to move? And she only walked away,” he said.

The caretaker quit caring for Norman, claiming she felt unsafe. Gonzales insisted that not he, nor any of his staff or customers, ever harassed the caretaker in any way.

Then, a group of fire survivors, who never bothered talking to Gonzales or the property managers, rallied behind the caretaker. They accused Gonzales of exploiting a vulnerable, traumatized community and ruining the sacredness of Norman Jr.’s corner.

Then, it escalated. A disgruntled resident posted Gonzales’ license plate on social media.

Others threatened to call the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department or LA County Public Health. In a community forum on Facebook, one person “joked” about putting nails under his tires. Another person suggested setting off “stink bombs.”

Local therapist and activist Melissa Lopez said a few people tied to that same Facebook group later showed up to hassle Gonzales in person. After that confrontation, they appeared to have backed off.

“That hurts, to see some of these violent reactions, to say they were going to bring a truck and wall off the area to him,” Lopez said. “People are gathering up pitchforks, and [it’s] scary.”

Things eventually cooled down, but not without some sore feelings. Norman’s caretaker still hasn’t returned.

But Norman Jr. continues to be looked after by his community of admirers — including Lopez, who just got a colorful Norman Jr. tattoo on her calf.

Lopez said she found some similarity between the friction over Norman Jr. and a recent monster movie, director Guillermo del Toro’s 2025 Frankenstein film. In the adaptation, she said, the scientist gives Frankenstein’s creature a voice, and the creature tells his story.

“It’s so beautiful because of that, because you get to see that he’s been dehumanized, that we created a monster,” Lopez said.” And I think that’s so true of society. We create the monsters, and how quickly we go to ostracize, to condemn people.”

Southern California was built on radio.

"I can still hear the jingle KFWB News 98,” wrote  Taline in Los Feliz, during a recent conversation on LAist's daily news show, AirTalk, which airs on 89.3 FM. “I grew up hearing that in my dad's minivan on the way to and from school. It has a special place in my heart.”

Back in April, broadcast company Audacy announced KNX News — one of the last-remaining all-news FM stations — was leaving the FM dial where it had simulcast on 97.1 FM since 2021. The station, which is also one of the oldest in L.A., is not budging from 1070 AM where it has been on the air for more than 100 years. The move away from FM officially happened in May to make way for a new sports talk station, which Audacy officials called an area of growth for advertisers in today’s media landscape.

The move is one in a long line of changes for radio and a reminder that before podcasts, playlists and algorithms, many Southern Californians built their days around radio broadcasts.

Radio, a daily ritual

The construction of KNX

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Michael Jackson, a well-known KNX, personality

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Larry Mantle, now in his 41st year hosting AirTalk, remembers being a kid and dreaming of what it might be like to be behind the mic at one of these radio stations.

“ I grew up with KNX," he said. “My dream job as a kid was to be an anchor on KNX or KFWB, the two local all-news radio stations, 'cause there was nothing like hosting AirTalk that even existed at that point.”

Mantle opened up the phone lines on a recent show to hear from his fellow SoCal radio lovers about the shows they miss and the memories they have. Here's what they had to say:

A love for radio, then and now  

A pilot of KMPC's traffic alert helicopter pictured with his daughter and grandson.

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A 1963 picture of Valley State College (now Los Angeles Valley College) preparing to launch KVCM

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“When you'd walk down Hollywood Boulevard where the station was, you could hear it playing as you went down the street,” said  Olivia in Glendale about KLAC 570 with Al Jarvis.

 Larry in Yorba Linda shouted out KBCA Jazz for its 24-hour jazz, saying “When I first moved out here in '68 from Phoenix, which had like an hour a week, it was a real wonder.”

 Mark in Glassell Park emailed that he loves KCRW’s Henry Rollins, writing, “I used to bristle at his unique DJ persona, but over time, I came to love him and his crazy eclectic playlists. I find his knowledge in history and punk rock fascinating. He's a gem and a legend."

"I'd like to give a shout-out to all the DJs working at KXLU, the college station at Loyola Marymount University, said  Jeremy in Culver City in an email. “That station's been on the air for nearly 60 years. I believe it's one of the best examples of what's possible with radio."

"KFWB and KRLA back in the day when they were rock music stations —  Dr. Demento, one of my favorite on-air personalities, also had eclectic music taste," said  Carrie in Desert Edge.

“ Dr. Demento was must listening when I was a kid in junior high school at Le Conte Junior High in Hollywood,” Mantle added. “Every Sunday night on KMET, we would make sure we were listening to Dr. Demento and his funny records.”

The question remains…

An 11-year-old winning a car in a KMPC contest in 1963.

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Listener support is vital to any radio station, and it’s clear KNX has many lifelong fans. AirTalk listeners highlighted their support for household KNX names over the decades like Bill Keene, Melinda Lee, Mike Roy and Jackie Olden.

As KNX makes changes, many are watching closely and thinking about the future of radio.

Listeners like Tommy in La Quinta are left wondering if the radio dial will be the same…

“I’m a hardcore listener, but I don't know about casual listeners [and] if they'll tune to AM,” he said.

After months of hand-wringing, Los Angeles and LA28 have come to a tentative agreement on how Olympics organizers will reimburse the city for its expenses for the 2028 Summer Games.

According to the deal, the private Olympic organizing committee will pay upfront for the estimated cost of services that are not eligible for federal reimbursement, like trash pick-up and traffic control. Under another proposal, the city would also be able to tap an LA28 contingency fund if it isn't fully repaid by the federal government for policing costs at Olympic venues.

The agreement is nearly nine months overdue and still needs approval by Mayor Karen Bass and the City Council.

The 2028 Olympics are intended to be privately financed, and an existing city agreement with LA28 states that the Olympics organizers, not L.A., will pay for extra costs for public services in support of the Games. But L.A. is the financial back-stop for the Olympics, meaning if LA28 goes in the red, taxpayers will pick up the bill.

Beyond that, the city services agreement presents another area where L.A. could incur additional unexpected expenses for hosting the Games. L.A. City Councilmember Monica Rodriguez warned LA28 CEO Reynold Hoover earlier this year that a bad deal could "bankrupt" the city.

Jacie Prieto Lopez, an LA28 spokesperson, and Paul Krekorian, who leads the city's office of major events, said in statements that the freshly inked agreement would help deliver a fiscally responsible Games.

"Mayor Bass’ priority is that the 2028 Olympic and Paralympic Games be fiscally responsible, protect taxpayers, and benefit Angelenos for decades to come. This agreement helps deliver that commitment," Krekorian said.

But the contract between the two parties doesn't fully resolve one of the biggest areas of financial risk for the city: the enormous cost of security for an event as extensive and high-profile as the summer Olympics and Paralympics.

Organizers are counting on the federal government to pay for public safety at Olympic venues that are considered part of a "national special security event." That includes costs for LAPD staffing. LA28 has not included security costs in its $7.1 billion budget — a fact that City Attorney Hydee Feldstein Soto criticized earlier this year.

The federal government has so far allocated $1 billion for security costs for the Olympics. Exactly where those federal funds will go has not yet been determined, and there's no guarantee they will cover all of L.A.'s policing costs.

To address this, city officials have also proposed an amendment to a 2021 agreement between the city and LA28. That amendment would establish that if L.A. is not reimbursed by the federal government for all its eligible expenses, it could dip into LA28's contingency fund of $270 million before the private organizing committee could use those funds for any legacy projects.

But that bucket of money will first be used for any costs that Olympics organizers still owe if they run out of revenue — meaning if the Olympics don't turn a profit, the city's access to that money will depend on how much is left for the taking.

Civil rights attorney Connie Rice, who has been tracking the city's negotiations with LA28, told LAist the agreement was a "PR document" not a deal. She pointed out that if the federal government does not pay up for security spending as expected, L.A. could be in trouble.

" It leaves the taxpayers with a GoFundMe strategy," she said.

The city services agreement lays the groundwork for more negotiations between LA28 and the city. Each venue will require its own agreement, to be negotiated by July 1, 2027. Venues in the city of L.A. include Dodger Stadium, the L.A. Convention Center, L.A. Memorial Coliseum and the Venice Beach Boardwalk.

The City Council's ad-hoc committee on the 2028 Games will meet Tuesday afternoon to vote on the agreement.