The Brief

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Republican Steve Hilton launched his general election campaign for California governor Wednesday with a gambit to win over left-leaning voters who dominate the state: Even if they loathe President Donald Trump, he said, they should consider voting for him.

During an event in Los Angeles, against the backdrop of a stinking, scorched food warehouse he described as a symbol of the state’s political incompetence, Hilton rolled out a list of campaign promises clearly aimed at residents buckling under California’s notoriously high cost of living. He vowed to bring the price of gasoline down to $3 a gallon, about half the current cost, cut residents’ utility bills in half, now among the nation’s highest, and eliminate state income taxes on the first $150,000 in earnings.

He blamed the state’s problems — from homelessness to low student test scores — squarely on Democrats, who hold every statewide office and supermajorities in the Legislature. He called Democrats a “rotten regime that has abandoned the working class.”

In his campaign remarks and ads he took out in leading newspapers throughout the state, Hilton addressed his relationship with Trump, who has endorsed him in the race.

“This is not about who you hate in Washington. It’s about what we love about California and what we can do to make California once again the best place anywhere in the country to start and raise a family, to start and run a business,” he said before a small group of supporters. “That’s what this election is about.”

Hilton’s maneuver is meant to create a sliver of distance from Trump without breaking from him. It’s a tacit nod to the political math in California, one of the nation’s most solidly Democratic states. Registered Republicans are outnumbered nearly 2-to-1 by Democratic voters, and a GOP candidate hasn’t won a statewide election since 2006.

Trump is widely unpopular in California outside his loyal conservative base. In 2016, Trump lost to Democrat Hillary Clinton by 30 points; in 2020, he lost to Joe Biden by 29 points; and in 2024, he lost to Kamala Harris by 20 points.

California is regarded as the home of the so-called Trump resistance, where Democrats have effectively used Trump as a foil in campaigns to motivate voters. Last year, Gov. Gavin Newsom essentially nationalized the state’s fight over Proposition 50, which recast U.S. House districts to favor Democrats, by framing it as a confrontation with Trump. The measure notched a 29-point win.

The campaign of Hilton’s Democratic opponent, former U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, scoffed at the notion of Hilton being a change agent.

“Californians already know who Steve Hilton is: Trump’s puppet in California. His campaign is a promise to run our state the way Trump runs the country and we’re not buying it,” campaign spokesman Jonathan Underland said in a statement.

As for Hilton’s pitch that voters who dislike Trump should feel free to consider him in November, Underland said, “Steve Hilton cheers on a president whose illegal war has sent gas prices soaring and illegal tariffs have cost California families more than $2,500 this year alone. You can’t fix the affordability crisis while carrying water for the man causing it.”

In a heavily Democratic state, Hilton’s campaign is hoping his appeal to Democrats and independents will “give voters a permission slip” to look past the letter next to a candidate’s name, even in a nation deeply divided by partisanship.

“You do have a choice if you think that this state is going in the wrong direction,” he told supporters at a kickoff event in Boyle Heights, a Los Angeles neighborhood where residents have been complaining about the stench of rotting food, flies and rodents that followed a fire last month at a cold storage warehouse.

He was accompanied by Gloria Romero, a former Democratic state lawmaker who switched parties in 2024 and is this year’s Republican nominee for lieutenant governor. She delivered her own address in both English and Spanish, with supporters holding “Hilton-Romero” signs in the background.

Becerra, a former state lawmaker, congressman and state attorney general, is heavily favored to win the seat now held by Newsom, a likely 2028 Democratic presidential candidate who is barred by law from seeking a third term. Hilton and Becerra emerged from a chaotic primary election in June that had more than 50 candidates on the ballot.

The race is unfolding at a time when California is facing multiple crises. Despite billions in spending, homelessness remains widespread, especially in larger cities. Multibillion-dollar budget gaps are projected into the future. Home prices remain out of reach for many residents. The home insurance market is in disarray, businesses and residents have been fleeing the state, and residents contend with some of the nation’s highest gas prices, taxes and utility bills.

Making good on his campaign promises won’t be an easy task for Hilton, a former adviser to ex-United Kingdom Prime Minister David Cameron who has never held elective office. The governor doesn’t control the oil or utility markets, but Hilton says he will get rid of mandates, taxes and fees that drive those prices higher. He also would likely need the consent of a Legislature controlled by Democrats to change the state’s income tax structure.

Hilton crowned his campaign kickoff with a 30-second TV ad underscoring the financial challenges for many families.

“Life here has become impossible for anyone who isn’t already rich,” he says. “Let’s fix California.”

What have we become in 50 years?

When Long Beach civic leaders and dignitaries sealed and buried a steel box five decades ago, it contained notes of what locals hoped the future might look like, and tokens of what the city was, in case anyone forgot.

Civic leaders gathered the public Wednesday to unveil the contents of a 50-year-old time capsule buried to mark the city’s bicentennial anniversary. The box was opened before a crowd of residents, historians and students, revealing papers, flags and inexpensive tchotchkes. But together, they provide snapshots of a drastically different past and confident predictions of a thriving 21st century Long Beach.

Long Beach Mayor Rex Richardson stood before the eager onlookers to catch a glimpse of a bygone era. “It’s not every day that we get to open a 50-year time capsule here in the city of Long Beach,” he began. “Who’s excited to see what’s in this box?”

Mayor Rex Richardson unveils a bicentennial time capsule from July 1976 in Long Beach on July 22, 2026.

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Long Beach Post

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The box, a 5.1-cubic-foot safe of stainless steel, was originally unearthed in 2022, amid the demolition of the former City Hall-Main Library. But it remained sealed until a few weeks ago, when officials privately opened and previewed the capsule to prepare for Wednesday’s main event.

Inside, the capsule held more than 85 items reflecting life in 1976: a Wham-O Frisbee in its original packaging, a fine-dining menu offering a prime rib dinner for $5.75, a 1976 telephone directory, Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogues, ashtrays, cufflinks featuring the Long Beach flag, and a model of the Long Beach-built DC-10 jetliner.

Mayor Rex Richardson holds a case containing a bracelet and a signed gift for the mayors wife as a bicentennial time capsule from 1976 is opened in Long Beach on July 22, 2026.

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It also contained organizational flow charts from an era when the city government had 40% more departments, a vial of crude oil pumped from beneath the city — a nod to 1970s fears that local reserves would run dry by 2026 — and an aqua-blue Los Angeles County flag.

“Well, it’s not the best-looking flag, but we are still in LA County, that holds true,” Richardson joked to the crowd, before glancing at the city’s flag and adding, “It might be time we update this flag.”

Among the most poignant contents were letters written by local elementary students describing their daily lives and offering earnest visions for the future. Several of those former students were present Wednesday to read their childhood essays aloud.

Sharon Schreiber-Fisher, a former student at Bret Harte Elementary School who eventually grew up to become a teacher herself, recalled finding her original draft essay in a dusty suitcase in her attic prior to the event.

“I don’t believe my teacher chose me because of this essay,” Schreiber-Fisher said. “I believe my teacher chose me because she knew that I needed a win.”

Her childhood letter painted a vivid, innocent picture of 1976 life with wild futuristic predictions: that Long Beach will have nice people who no longer steal, pretty flowers, impressive transportation and an abundance of homes to live in. “Cars will be running and moving along streets and won’t need gas… The television will go to anything a person wants to watch. It will run on water… Yes, I think the world will be very nice in the future,” she read. (She might have been on to something with on-demand TV.)

Mayor Rex Richardson displays a notebook filled with letters written by elementary school students in 1976. These letters were stored in a bicentennial time capsule and opened in Long Beach on Wednesday, July 22, 2026.

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Thomas R. Cordova

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Long Beach Post

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Amelia Fritz, a former student at Patrick Henry Elementary, peppered her 1976 letter with questions for the future: Will people learn faster? Is the smog still bad? Do people still go to the beach? Are computers still an important part of our lives?

“Is the country still run by a president elected by the people of the United States?” she asked, getting a mix of chuckles and groans from the audience.

Historical Society President Julie Bartolotto noted that in many ways, Long Beach’s present mirrors its past. Fifty years ago, life was also marked by high gas prices, deep political divisions and widespread distrust in the federal government amid an unpopular Vietnam War, scandals like the Pentagon Papers and Watergate, and the recent resignation of President Richard Nixon.

Several speakers continued that 1976 was also a moment of intense civic ambition for Long Beach, much like today. By then, the city had navigated decades of unbridled growth, the 1933 earthquake, wars and shifting demographics.

Mayor Rex Richardson holds a tie clip in the shape of the Queen Mary, displayed from a bicentennial time capsule from 1976 and opened in Long Beach on July 22, 2026.

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Thomas R. Cordova

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Long Beach Post

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Faced with urban sprawl and deterioration, city leaders at the time launched an all-out revitalization program to reshape its image as a sleepy coastal town into a 24-hour city where residents could work, live, lunch on a grassy knoll by the water, view an art collection, or take in a convention on anything from tattoos to tariffs.

When the time capsule was buried in July 1976, it was deemed a “Bicentennial gift to the future.”

Its burial came ahead of the much-anticipated opening of the then-gleaming, $25 million City Hall-Main Library. A crowd of 6,000 people gathered for bands, balloons and speeches by civic officials, and a parade themed “Let Freedom Ring” featured a 485-pound tiger named Spot chained to a convertible.

As the capsule was lowered into the earth 50 years ago, then-Mayor Thomas Clark reflected on the city’s transformation from a “sleepy hamlet to the sixth-largest city in the most populous state in the union.”

“We can be proud of our living heritage, which grows as we grow, changes as we change and harnesses the combined strengths of all manner of peoples to provide a future for our children and their children,” Clark said.

The findings of the 2026 homeless count held in January across most of L.A. County are scheduled to be officially announced this Friday, July 24, by the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority.

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass, ahead of that official release, has acknowledged that the annual tally will show a rise in the city of L.A.’s unhoused population after two years of declines.

What the mayor is saying

Bass was responding to a report late Wednesday by Fox 11 that the numbers had gone up. Bass, who was briefed on the findings, acknowledged to Fox 11 that the city's unhoused population has increased, although she didn't share a specific percentage. The mayor blamed state funding cuts and federal policy changes for the rise.

On Thursday, the mayor’s office shared a longer written statement with LAist:

“For two years straight, we drove down homelessness by historic margins — but as expected, last year our efforts ultimately couldn’t keep up with policies and funding cuts at the federal and state levels that pushed more people onto the streets,” Bass said.

When asked to clarify, Bass’ office said she was most concerned about state reductions to the Homeless Housing, Assistance and Prevention grant program, known as HHAP.

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass speaks at a press conference before L.A.'s annual homeless count on Tuesday, Feb. 18, 2025, in Los Angeles.

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Bass also said she believed the Trump administration has played a role in more people going unhoused. She said the administration's policies have “driven up the cost of gas, groceries, and rent” and “slashed critical safety net funding.” More broadly, she said city leaders have ignored the homelessness crisis for decades and that the “lack of adequate services provided by L.A. County continues to be a real problem.”

Several people briefed on the findings also confirmed to LAist that this year’s results show the area’s unhoused population increased.

Why it matters

The point-in-time census, which is mandated by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development and takes place yearly in L.A., provides a data snapshot. Local officials use it to gauge year-to-year fluctuations, and it also helps the federal government determine how millions of dollars in federal homelessness grants flow.

In 2025, the city's and county’s homeless populations dropped by 3.4% and 4%, respectively. The 2024 count also showed declines — those drops were smaller and within the count’s margin of error.

Bass, who took office at the very end of 2022, has been touting two consecutive years of declining homelessness in her reelection campaign this year. She’s facing City Councilmember Nithya Raman, who chairs L.A.’s housing and homelessness committee.

Release timing

The Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority, known as LAHSA, conducted the count in January and initially planned to release the results in “late spring or early summer.” The release was delayed slightly this year, as LAHSA officials opted to wait on a federal review of the data. The agency typically released past homeless count findings in June.

LAHSA’s public release of the findings is currently scheduled for 1 p.m. on Friday, July 24.

Bass, who was present at the event for the past three years, has not responded to requests from LAist asking whether she will attend this time.

A year and a half after the Eaton Fire burned thousands of homes, Altadena residents are grappling with a question shaping the community’s future: Should rebuilding efforts make room for dense, more affordable housing, or should they seek to recreate the same kind of single-family housing that existed before the fires?

The debate has triggered advocacy around a new bill, lawsuits against L.A. County from developers, petitions from neighbors and emergency town council meetings.

On one side are Altadena residents rallying behind proposed state legislation to temporarily block developers from using California density laws to build multi-unit housing on single-family lots.

They say they want to stop out-of-town developers from building structures like duplexes and bungalow courts, which residents say threaten the neighborhood’s identity and will lead to congestion on narrow roads.

On the other side, developers are looking to build denser housing under existing laws that expedite lot subdivision.

But the county has delayed or denied some of their applications, leading at least three developers to file lawsuits in L.A. County Superior Court.

How we got here

In July 2025, Gov. Gavin Newsom issued an executive order allowing local governments to prohibit new duplexes in burn zones such as the Pacific Palisades and Malibu. But the order didn’t include most of Altadena, which technically isn’t in a very high fire-hazard severity zone.

“When residents from my community had initially seen this executive order, they were pretty concerned and upset that they were not included,” state Sen. Sasha Renée Pérez said.

“We need protections as well,” said the senator who represents the area.

That’s why some residents are supporting Pérez’s Senate Bill 1090 — which is headed to a full Assembly vote in August.

The frames of new buildings rise next to 411 Punahou St. in Altadena, where a multi-unit complex has been at the center of a rebuilding controversy.

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On the ground

On Punahou Street, near Farnsworth Park, nearly every single-family home was destroyed by the Eaton Fire.

More than a year and a half after the fire, rows and rows of empty lots remain scraped raw and swallowed by untended weeds. “Altadena is not for sale” signs lay strewn among fallen branches and charred shrubs.

On a handful of properties, wooden frames are beginning to take shape.

Altadena residents began noticing plans to build multi-family complexes this spring.

Their focus was drawn to 411 Punahou St., where a single-family home once stood. In March, neighborhood captain Angela Uriu spotted digital renderings showing a sleek, multi-unit complex with parking spaces.

At a community rally in support of SB 1090, the project at 411 Punahou St. was a topic of discussion.

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Her home on the same block, a one-story Cape Cod-style house built in 1939, burned to the ground in the fire.

“We have a small street, and it felt like [the developers] made no attempt to be neighborly in the aesthetics of the structure and how they faced our street or the neighbors on either side,” Uriu said.

She soon started a petition opposing the development, which was one signature shy of 1,500 on Thursday.

Uriu is among a growing number of residents who say the rebuilding process has opened the door to predatory outside developers.

“You have speculative developers for whom their entire business plan relies upon purchasing these lots, getting plans approved for the lots, and then flipping them,” said Shawna Dawson Beer, who founded the community activism group Beautiful Altadena in 2015.

“That should not be easier than getting people home and getting people to rebuild their homes,” she added.

A legal battle brews

Recently, developers in Altadena haven’t gotten housing applications approved under SB 1123, leading some to sue the county. Only a few SB 1123 applications were approved after the fire, according to the county’s permit finder.

This spring, L.A. County sent out one-paragraph rejections of SB 1123 applications to developers, saying that the properties’ perimeters were not substantially surrounded by developed parcels — a requirement for projects to qualify for SB 1123.

“We actually voided all applications because [SB 1123] was meant to be infill building, and there’s nothing around,” L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger told the California Assembly at the beginning of July. Barger’s district includes Altadena.

The decision to void the applications was based on guidance from the state’s Department of Housing and Community Development, according to Anish Saraiya, the director of Altadena recovery in Barger’s office.

Kensington Homes, Caldev and other development companies quickly sued the county, alleging that the rejections were based on “a pretextual political decision to prevent increased density in post-fire Altadena.”

The county Department of Regional Planning wrote in a statement to LAist that new applications for multifamily projects under SB 1123 can’t be approved “based on current law.” The department did not elaborate.

At least three lawsuits allege that the delay and denial of these applications were inconsistent with the county’s past actions and messaging.

Brick Work, a land use startup suing the county, submitted applications to build multifamily homes in late 2025.

“We were just going about business as usual,” founder John Jung said.

But county officials in March declared the project ineligible due to the urban infill requirement, Jung said.

Multiple lawsuits cite a now-offline brochure published by the L.A. County Planning Department, which provided guidance on using SB 1123 and SB 9 to split lots for Eaton Fire survivors. They allege that the county changed its position by replacing the brochure this spring.

“Content on the Disaster Recovery webpage is updated regularly to reflect the latest information in the most accessible form, and this particular brochure has been replaced by other content,” the Department of Regional Planning wrote in a statement to LAist.

At the heart of the lawsuits is a thorny question: What counts as urban infill after a neighborhood has burned?

One lawsuit filed by Kensington Homes argues that the definition of a “qualified urban use” can also include remnant residential structures left following the fire. Therefore, it argues, “virtually all of the land in Altadena qualifies for the program.”

Jung argues that although the lots are currently vacant, “the use is still residential, and they’re all in the midst of rebuilding — they’re not going to stay vacant,” he said.

The county’s current interpretation stands contrary to the purpose of SB 1123, according to Jacob Pierce of Abundant Housing L.A., a pro-housing nonprofit.

“The county’s interest in reading a temporary post-disaster condition as disqualification does not pass the smell test,” he said.

But supporters of SB 1090 say that SB 1123’s urban infill requirements were never intended to include burned lots. They argue that fire-scarred blocks should not be treated the same as intact urban neighborhoods.

“There is no question that an entire town that was wiped off the map overnight is not urban infill,” said Dawson Beer, the community activist.

UC Davis law professor Christopher S. Elmendorf says that the statute doesn’t directly address the issue.

But, Elmendorf noted, “it would be strange for the city to declare that the sites are ‘not urban’ because the existing uses burned, while at the same time it issues permits for the rebuilding of single-family homes.”

Rebuilding on their own terms

SB 9 projects, on the other hand, are still being approved by the county. More than 5,600 parcels were damaged or destroyed in Altadena. Fifty-seven, including 411 Punahou Street, have active permits invoking SB 9. Only two have been completed, and 14 are under construction.

But this was enough to unite Altadena residents in opposition. Similarly, a handful of SB 9 applications brought the Palisades community together against “opportunistic developers” last year, leading L.A. Mayor Karen Bass to suspend SB 9 in very high fire-hazard severity zones.

At a June 16 town council meeting in Altadena, more than 450 residents packed the overflow space to voice concerns about the developments and push for housing density exemptions under SB 1090. An “emergency” community meeting on Zoom was held later that month, gathering more than 100 residents.

Recovering and rebuilding after a traumatic event like a large-scale fire can cause friction within communities, said Megan Mullin, a public policy professor at UCLA.

“There can be a tension between what individuals and households need for their own recovery and the vision that a community has for what it wants to be in the future,” Mullin said.

Altadena town council Chair Nic Arnzen addresses Altadena residents at a June rally for SB 1090.

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Brian Feinzimer

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For Beautiful Altadena

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Among those who are critical of SB 1090 are residents who plan to earn additional income by renting out secondary units.

Geoff Ramsey-Ray’s insurance claims were not enough to cover the cost of rebuilding his home on two acres of land, leading him to pursue a lot split under SB 9. Selling the second lot is “the only feasible way” he can stay in Altadena, he said.

The SB 9 approval process has been slow, Ramsey-Ray said.

“Ironically, preventing the speculators is also hurting some of us in Altadena who are trying to find a way to afford to rebuild here,” Ramsey-Ray said.

Many SB 1090 advocates say they’re targeting only out-of-town developers, and the latest version of the bill carves out an exemption for community land trusts and affordable housing organizations.

Veronica Jones, president of the Altadena Historical Society, hopes for a middle ground.

“We just want to protect what makes Altadena Altadena,” she said.

Whether that middle ground can be reached — or even exists — remains a question.

What comes next?

After swiftly passing two committee votes in the state Assembly in early July, SB 1090 awaits a full Assembly vote in August. Then it would go to the Senate and, if passed, on to the governor for his signature.

If passed in its current version, the bill would go into effect starting Jan. 1, 2027, which residents say leaves too much time for developers to continue building. They’re now fighting to get an urgency clause added to the bill, which would have the moratorium take effect as soon as the governor signs it.

An "Altadena is not for sale" sign lies on the ground of an empty lot near Punahou Street.

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“We might still be able to move forward even if the moratorium passes, because there might be language in there that allows existing projects to still move forward,” said Jung, one of the developers suing the county.

Meanwhile, the land on 411 Punahou Street was sold, with site plans for a multi-unit building approved last December. The empty lot has been cleaned and leveled.

Uriu, the neighborhood captain who lost her home nearby, is distressed.

“To think,” Uriu said, “that I’m spending my retirement and going to have to work the rest of my life to build this new home and have a five-unit complex with two stories next door looking into my backyard — it’s just a really hard pill to swallow.”

Residents say that the debate around SB 1090 is only one piece of a much larger recovery process mired in permit delays and insufficient insurance payouts. More than 18 months after the Eaton Fire, only 1% of homes have been rebuilt, and some survivors have left L.A. altogether.

“Everybody who wants to come home should be able to,” said Katie Clark, the co-founder of the Altadena Tenants Union. “And the reality on the ground is that for many of us, that is an uphill battle.”