The Brief

From behind the counter, in front of enormous, sizzling piles of lengua (beef tongue), chicharron (pork skin) and buche (hog maw) on a bustling Monday afternoon around lunchtime, Tomas Martinez recalls the first time he visited Grand Central Market in his 20s, back in 1972.

“Things were very different then,” says Martinez, who opened his always-busy restaurant Tacos Tumbras a Tomas in 1995. “Before you had many Hispanic people, many Latin products and fish, meat, all kinds of things for Mexican and Latin people.”

For nearly 30 years, Martinez has come to Grand Central Market at 4 or 5 a.m., six days a week, to open his restaurant, serving burritos, tortas and his most popular dish: carnitas tacos. (His tacos are so good they made The LAist Guide To Eating Your Way Through Grand Central Market.)

He's the Tomas of Tacos Tumbras A Tomas, a GCM food stall popular for its carnitas tacos.

(

Megan Botel

/

LAist

)

Among the clacks of giant woks, the hiss of Korean short ribs and carne asada and the chatter of hungry visitors, Martinez gestures toward the 44,000 square foot open-air structure that resembles a sort of Grand Bazaar. “Now, it’s a mix,” he says. “But it is still our home. It’s a very important place in this city.”

For more than 100 years, the Grand Central Market has been a centerpiece of downtown Los Angeles for both locals and tourists. Drawing in around 2 million visitors annually, they can choose from nearly 40 of Los Angeles’ best local eateries or shop for produce, spices and other specialty goods.

China Cafe is a favorite of many GCM patrons, who say the combination of the tasty food and the afforable prices can't be beat.

(

Megan Botel

/

LAist

)

Around the corner from Tacos Tumbras, Mike Kalustian sits on a red-leather bar stool at China Cafe, hunched over a steaming bowl of wonton soup — the same dish he’s been ordering here for more than 30 years, first as a downtown employee, now as a retiree who travels here from the valley at least a few times a month to enjoy his favorite meal.

“It’s the best $12 meal you can buy in the city,” he says. “It used to be $6 back in the day."

Over the years, Kalustian has also had a front-row seat to the market's transformation from a place for farmers to sell their produce to a more upscale food hall reflecting the wide variety of cuisines in the city.

“It was a little dingier back then,” he says, describing the run-down amenities, saw dust covering the floors and a much less “foodie” crowd than the hip, industrial feel the market has today. “But I loved it then, and I love it now. Things have got to evolve.”

Grand Central Market’s roots

This vintage photo, taken in 1966, shows a bustling Grand Central Market and its many food stalls. In some ways, not much has changed.

(

Los Angeles Photographers Photo Collection / Los Angeles Public Library

)

The first, the oldest

While longtime patrons and vendors describe a trendier, more gentrified scene today than ever before, Grand Central Market has always been in a state of evolution.

When the market opened in 1917, the city's first food hall, it catered to a mostly wealthy class of Angelenos — specifically, those living up above Hill street in Victorian mansions Bunker Hill. They would ride the Angels Flight funicular — made famous most recently by its appearance in La La Land — down the hill directly to the market.

At that time, Grand Central Market was a true marketplace with more than 90 vendors: stalls of colorful produce and international spices, pastries, Jewish deli meats, as well as fishmongers and other specialty groceries.

Archival photos of this time — known as L.A.’s “golden age,” when Hollywood was just beginning to boom — show shoppers dressed in their finest suits, coats and hats and vendors sporting bowties behind glistening piles of produce and fine deli meats.

Evolving with the neighborhood

But as the demographic in downtown LA changed drastically post WWII — when wealthy Angelenos moved into the suburbs and the Victorians in Bunker Hill became working-class houses — so did Grand Central Market.

This vintage 1946 photo of a counter at Grand Central Market shows it's jam packed with customers — mainly men, nearly all wearing fedoras.

(

Los Angeles Herald Examiner Photo Collection / Los Angeles Public Library

)

The intricate displays of sparkling produce and specialty goods were replaced by vendors selling everyday, inexpensive grocery items, catering to the mostly working class Latino customers who would go to market to eat and shop during their lunch breaks or after their shifts.

“It was really just a place for the working class to save money and come together,” Kalustian recalls. “It wasn’t so much a place to go and be seen. It was truly just a great place to get a cheap meal.”

Though the market has transformed yet again since then, vestiges of this era can be seen today: at Valeria’s Chiles & Spices you’ll find rare, specialty Latin goods like dried chiles, spices, beans, dried shrimp and canned Latin foods that are nearly impossible to find anywhere else, as well as fresh homemade moles; La Huerta Candy sells American candies with a Mexican twist — like watermelon gummies sprinkled with Tajin — as well as specialty Mexican nuts and dried fruits.
valer

Now, a microcosm of L.A.

Today, with vendors selling goods ranging from a $4 taco, a $12 bowl of wonton soup, to trendier cold pressed green juice, artisanal breads and craft beers, is a sort of microcosm of Los Angeles’ evolution throughout the century since its opening.

“There’s something for everyone’s taste,” Martinez says. “One person can get a sandwich, one person a taco, you can’t go wrong here at the market.”

But for long-time, loyal customers like Katusian, Grand Central Market is more than just a convenient destination to satisfy anyone’s culinary palate or explore new restaurants. It’s a uniquely L.A. tradition that breeds a true sense of community — one that’s hard to find in a city so spread out and car-centric, Katusian says.

Recently, he introduced his teenage children to the wonton soup at China Café.

“They loved it. They get to experience the same joy I have for so many years,” he says.

“It’s different," he added of the ever-changing market, "but it still has that same magic."

Raul Malo, the leader of the country band The Mavericks and one of the most recognizable voices in roots music, died Monday night, according to a representative of the band. The guitarist and singer had been battling cancer.

He was hospitalized last week, forcing him to miss tribute shows staged in his honor at the Ryman Auditorium over the weekend. He was 60 years old.

"No one embodied life and love, joy and passion, family, friends, music and adventure the way our beloved Raul did," read a statement released by his family.

Malo's group, The Mavericks, mourned the loss of their leader in a social post.

"Anyone with the pleasure of being in Raul's orbit knew that he was a force of human nature, with an infectious energy," the statement read. "Over a career of more than three decades entertaining millions around the globe, his towering creative contributions and unrivaled, generational talent created the kind of multicultural American music reaching far beyond America itself."

Over a career that lasted four decades, The Mavericks lived up to the band's name, challenging expectations and following a roadmap crafted by Malo's expansive musical upbringing as the son of Cuban immigrants in Miami.

"I grew up in a very musical household. There was all kinds of music around always," he told WHYY's Fresh Air in 1995. "We listened to everything from Hank Williams to Celia Cruz to Sam Cooke to Bobby Darin. It didn't matter."

In 1992, Malo told NPR that his widespread influences weren't always understood or appreciated in his South Florida hometown, but he said that his struggle to fit in taught him to trust his instincts. Malo had become the guitarist and lead singer for The Mavericks in 1989, alongside co-founders Robert Reynolds and Paul Deakin, and his roaring, sentimental voice defined the band's sound and remained its constant as the group's catalog moved from slow, tender ballads to full-throttle rock songs. In 1995, the band released its biggest hit with "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down," a swinging country song featuring an assist from Tex-Mex accordion legend Flaco Jimenez.

As the band grew in members and devoted listeners, The Mavericks continued to push the boundaries of American music, weaving a richly layered tapestry of textures and stories. With more than a dozen studio albums, The Mavericks collected praise and recognition from the Academy of Country Music, the Country Music Association and the Recording Academy. Although they took a hiatus for several years, Malo never stopped making music — and returned to his bandmates with renewed inspiration.

Following its 30th anniversary, the group released its first full-length Spanish album in 2020, aptly titled En Español. The record reimagined Latin standards and folklore-tinged popular tunes; it also made an implicit political statement about Latin music's contributions to American culture.

"In our own little way, if we could get somebody that perhaps is on the fence on issues and hears us singing in Spanish and perhaps reminds them of the beautiful cultures that make up what this country is trying to be and what it should be, so be it," Malo told NPR at the time. "Yeah, I'm OK with that."

The following year, the Americana Music Association recognized The Mavericks with the Trailblazer Award. In 2024, the band released its last studio album, Moon & Stars. The release coincided with news of Malo's cancer diagnosis, which he discussed openly with NPR's Ayesha Rascoe.

Before being hospitalized last week, Malo had been scheduled to perform with The Mavericks at a pair of tribute concerts held this past weekend at the legendary Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Over 30 artists, including Patty Griffin, Jim Lauderdale and Steve Earle, still gathered to pay tribute to Malo, with some of the proceeds of the night going to the cancer prevention organization Stand Up To Cancer.

According to his spokesperson, though Malo was too ill to attend, the concert was streamed to his hospital room Friday night.

Copyright 2025 NPR

The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has mostly blocked efforts to investigate misconduct within its ranks, according to the county inspector general, who announced his retirement Tuesday after 12 years on the job.

In an open letter, Max Huntsman cited examples of how the county has thwarted his efforts to watchdog the department, which in the past has been plagued with accusations that deputies use excessive force and lie on the job.

Huntsman said one example is former Sheriff Alex Villanueva’s misuse of criminal enforcement powers to discredit critics, such as opening an investigation into former County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl.

Villanueva was sheriff from 2018 to 2022.

“My requests for investigation were rejected,” Huntsman’s letter reads. “Even after receiving an official subpoena, the Sheriff’s Department has failed to turn over records regarding the improper surveillance.”

He added: “Sometimes members of the public wonder if frightening new surveillance techniques will be used for improper purposes under the guise of criminal investigation. Sadly, the answer is yes.”

Before becoming inspector general in 2013, Huntsman, 60, was a deputy district attorney who specialized in public corruption. He told LAist on Tuesday that the inspector general job wasn’t something he wanted initially.

“I didn’t want to go work for politicians,” he said. “But the need to provide some kind of independent reporting and analysis was significant.”

The Sheriff’s Department issued a statement saying it valued the Office of the Inspector General and all county oversight bodies and that it wished Huntsman and his family well in his retirement.

The department said it “continues to make great strides in advancing the department in a transparent manner.”

LAist also reached out to the county CEO and county counsel for comment, but they declined.

After George Floyd

In the letter, Huntsman says the state of California has come a long way in strengthening the power of local law enforcement oversight bodies, in part because of the 2020 murder of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis.

After widespread protests — and lobbying by Huntsman — the state provided authority to inspectors general to enforce subpoenas requiring law enforcement agencies to hand over documents and authorized external investigation of police misconduct, including deputy gang conduct.

The Sheriff’s Department — backed by county lawyers — has resisted.

“Los Angeles County may not follow those laws, but it will not be able to avoid them forever,” Huntsman wrote. “The county refuses to require the photographing of suspected gang tattoos in secretive groups that the undersheriff has identified as violating state law.”

“Just a few weeks ago, we requested some information regarding an investigation, and a pair of commanders refused to give it to us,” Huntsman said in an interview with LAist.

Origin of the office 

The Inspector General’s Office was created by the county Board of Supervisors in 2013 in response to a scandal that included former Sheriff Lee Baca covering up the abuses of jail inmates.

Baca went to federal prison.

Since then, the office has issued dozens of reports with recommendations for improving living conditions inside jails that some have described as “filthy,” stopping abuses of juveniles inside juvenile halls and providing shower privacy for inmates as part of the requirements under the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

“All of these abuses were reported by the Office of Inspector General and recommendations were ignored,” Huntsman wrote. Often, it took court orders to enact change.

“When we first blew the whistle on the torturous chaining of mentally ill prisoners to benches for 36 hours at a time, it was only a court order that ended the practice,” he wrote. “Time and time again, this pattern repeated itself.”

Huntsman wrote the county has permitted the Sheriff’s Department to block oversight and defunded the Office of Inspector General by removing a third of its staff.

“It's not surprising the county has driven out two successive chairs of the Sheriff Civilian Oversight Commission,” he wrote.

“Government always claims to value transparency and accountability, but shooting the messenger is still the most common response to criticism,” Huntsman wrote.

Despite setbacks, Huntsman values work 

Huntsman told LAist on Tuesday that he was proud of his career as a public servant.

“I’ve really enjoyed the work and I’m sad to have it end,” he said.

It’s a sentiment he echoed in his letter, adding that despite the setbacks and roadblocks, he was proud of the people with whom he shared the office.

“It has been my honor to work with a talented, brave and tireless group of public servants to ensure that the public knows what its government is doing,” he wrote.

He noted the inspector general’s reports are fact-checked by the office and public.

“When government abuses occur, they are sometimes kept secret, but that is no longer the case for much of what is happening in Los Angeles County,” Huntsman wrote. “What you do about it is up to you.,”

Huntsman’s last day is Friday.

Topline:

The backstory: Last month, the council's Transportation Committee voted to bring a proposal forward to implement a policy change that allows the city to impound and immediately destroy abandoned or inoperable RVs worth less than $4,000. The change is inspired by new state law AB 630, which was created to prevent previously impounded RVs from ending back up on the street.

The motion, authored by Councilmember Traci Park, reports that abandoned RVs pose as public and safety hazards.

What's next: Councilmember Nithya Raman requested that an implementation plan be presented to the council's public safety and housing and homelessness committees.

Go deeper: L.A. pushes policy to make it easier to remove RVs from city streets.