The Brief

By law, the American Hotel in downtown Los Angeles is supposed to be reserved for residents who can’t afford to live anywhere else. For decades, the building was a haven in the city’s sky-high housing market, where artists, musicians and people down on their luck could rent rooms for about $500 a month. At the end of the day, longtime tenants would hang out at Al’s Bar, a legendary punk and alternative rock venue on the ground floor where bands like the Red Hot Chili Peppers played long before they sold out stadiums.

But amid the largest homelessness crisis in the nation, the American’s owner has turned the building into a boutique hotel where tourists can book rooms for as much as $209 a night.

And the city has done nothing to stop him.

Long before Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass declared a housing emergency last year, city officials recognized that affordable housing was vanishing and sought to address it by making it difficult for developers to scoop up the residential hotels whose single-room dwellings were the only places many people could afford. Residential hotels consist of small, bare-bones rooms, some with shared bathrooms and most with no kitchens, in aging downtown buildings and roadside motels. In 2008, the L.A. City Council passed an ordinance to place strict limits on the conversion of more than 300 such buildings, totaling nearly 19,000 rooms (about 15% of the city’s lowest-cost housing units today).

But seven years later, the American’s new owner, Mark Verge, called the residents to a meeting. He said he planned to remodel the crumbling building and, according to tenants, offered to pay them to move. For months before the meeting, rumors had swirled around the American, said Jomar Giner, a barista who lived there until late 2014. The main topic on everyone’s mind, she said, was: “They’re going to ask us to move, but where are we going to live?”

Many of the American’s residents said they took Verge up on his offer, unaware that his plan to eventually turn the American into a tourist hotel was supposed to be illegal under the residential hotel law. The conversion disrupted a tight-knit community that had lived at the hotel for years — including at least one person who said he ended up sleeping in his car.

Under the law, Verge was required to compensate the city for the loss of affordable housing by either building replacement units or paying into a fund for housing construction. In Verge’s case, that could have cost more than $10 million. But like many landlords, Verge did neither of those things, and the city Housing Department didn’t compel him to, even though the law provides for $250-per-day fines and jail time for violators.

Scouring city records and online advertisements, Capital & Main and ProPublica identified 21 residential hotels, totaling more than 800 dwelling units, that were supposed to be preserved as housing but that have recently been on offer to tourists.

“That is illegal by statute and problematic for several reasons,” because residential hotels are supposed to be for the city’s lowest-income people, said Deepika Sharma, a housing law professor at the University of Southern California. “These are the folks struggling the most.”

It’s a staggering loss considering the severity of L.A.’s affordable housing shortage and what it would cost to replace 800 dwellings: more than $475 million at the current average cost of nearly $600,000 for the construction of a single affordable unit.

Some hotels have done little to hide their boutique transformations, advertising “expertly crafted” cocktails in a lobby bar and “a whimsical home away from home” for $270 a night. The hotels list rooms on their websites, on travel platforms like Expedia and Booking.com and on outdoor signs.

The American says on its website that the hotel in L.A.’s Arts District provides “affordable options for guests who are looking to make the most of their visit to the city of angels without blowing their entire vacation budget.”

Yet none of the 21 hotels, including the American, have received clearances from the city that would indicate they’ve replaced the low-cost housing they’ve taken off the market, Housing Department records show. Nor have the owners taken the other option of paying the fee to the city’s Affordable Housing Trust Fund. And none have been fined or prosecuted for failing to comply.

L.A. Housing Department director Ann Sewill referred questions to her staff. “We need to enforce it better,” said Greg Good, a senior policy adviser at the agency. “We’re working 24/7 to get there, and we’ve got to get better.”

A man pushes his cart filled with aluminum cans past the American Hotel in April. He said he has lived in L.A.’s Arts District for some 40 years and currently stays in a small room inside a gas station.

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Verge — who founded Southern California’s go-to apartment listing service, Westside Rentals, before selling it to CoStar Group, the parent company of Apartments.com — insisted he was unaware of the residential hotel law and of the American’s inclusion on the city’s residential hotel inventory.

“I don’t know about this magical list,” Verge said, though records show the city informed his lawyer that the American was residential after he bought the hotel in 2013.

Verge said he has been paying the city’s hotel tax for years and noted that he has openly advertised the American as a hotel.

“Do you know how many banners I’ve put on that thing?” he said. “I definitely don’t think I’m violating any law.”

The story of how Verge was able to convert the American into a tourist hotel underlines the city’s failure to preserve affordable housing — and how easily landlords have avoided the law.

One of the most pro-tenant ordinances

Today, more than 1 in 10 unhoused people in the U.S. — some 75,000 people — live in Los Angeles County. Far beyond downtown’s Skid Row neighborhood, tents and tarps are jammed together under bridges alongside overflowing shopping carts, broken-down bicycles and blankets. Men and women wrap themselves in ragged blankets under the overhangs of grocery stores and strip malls. They spread bedrolls in parks and next to the stars of celebrities on Hollywood Boulevard.

A roadside encampment in L.A. in December 2022. Mayor Karen Bass declared a state of emergency over the city’s homelessness crisis on her first full day in office.

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The human misery on display across the city made homelessness the central issue in the 2022 mayoral race and drove Bass to proclaim a housing emergency on her first day in office.

But in reality, the emergency has been coming for a long time. Nearly two decades ago, L.A. officials foresaw that rapid gentrification would eat away at residents’ ability to live in the city. Residential hotels were rapidly being converted to condos.

So, in 2008, the City Council voted to preserve the hotels with a law. L.A.’s then-housing director Mercedes Márquez — who now leads the mayor’s effort to combat homelessness — called it at the time, “without question, one of the most pro-tenant ordinances to come before the City Council in its entire history.”

City officials drew up a list of 336 hotels, using the state’s legal definition of a residential hotel: a building of six or more units that are the primary residences of their guests. Some were traditional single-room occupancy buildings with shared bathrooms. Others were motels with various claims to fame. One was the hotel where singer Janis Joplin was found dead; another served as the site of Julia Roberts’ apartment in the final scene of “Pretty Woman.”

By the time of the ordinance, the once-grand downtown hotels that served travelers in the early 20th century and the roadside motels that catered to mid-century motorists had fallen out of fashion with tourists. City officials determined they were being used as living spaces for local residents, not tourist accommodations.

The new law strictly limited what residential hotel owners could do with their properties. But Márquez and the city attorney’s office assured councilmembers it would stand up in court: A nearly identical San Francisco law had been upheld by California’s Supreme Court in 2002, and the U.S. Supreme Court had reviewed the case, affirming the state’s power to decide such issues. Márquez signaled that enforcement would be stringent.

City councilmember Bill Rosendahl, who strongly supported the ordinance, asked Márquez somewhat tongue-in-cheek questions about a prime beachfront property in his district that had been designated as a residential hotel.

“My God, I could tear that down and build high-end condos and move in the rich. Does this stop me from doing that?” Rosendahl asked.

“Pretty much,” Márquez replied.

The law “is designed to make it difficult,” although not impossible, for owners to convert their buildings into condos or tourist hotels, Márquez told the City Council. Owners would first have to apply to the Housing Department for approval. They would then have to either replace all the residential housing units or pay a fee, set at the acquisition cost of nearby property plus the cost of constructing 80% of the replacement dwellings.

Márquez referred an interview request to the mayor’s press office, which did not make her available. And she did not respond to emailed questions.

“I would think the owners would find it quite onerous,” Gary Painter, an economist who specializes in housing at USC, said in a recent interview. “Anything that makes it harder for them to fully exercise their options on their real estate, they’re going to be upset about.”

Many hotel owners are indeed unhappy with the residential hotel designations. Ray Patel, who heads the North East Los Angeles Hotel Owners Association, said the law was an unfair attempt to shift the burden of L.A.’s housing problems onto hotel owners.

“The city was trying to avoid the elephant in the room: how difficult it is to build housing,” he said. “There’s too much red tape.”

But in adopting the law with no opposition, the City Council decided that limiting hotel owners’ property rights was in the public interest because the loss of residential hotel rooms had become a housing emergency that affected elderly, disabled and low-income people “who are least able to cope with displacement in the Los Angeles housing market.” The council predicted that “unregulated conversion or demolition of residential hotels would lead to an unacceptable and socially harmful increase in homelessness.”

The ordinance allowed owners to appeal their designations by submitting tax records, housekeeping reports and guest registration records to prove their buildings had operated as traveler hotels. Patel, who owns the Welcome Inn on old Route 66 — Colorado Boulevard in the Eagle Rock neighborhood — said he submitted reams of paperwork, got his motel off the list and helped others to do the same. About 100 properties were removed, though others have since been added. The city’s most recent list contains more than 300 hotels.

Some hotel owners have tried to challenge the ordinance in court, arguing that the city’s designation of the motels as residential amounts to an unconstitutional government taking of private property. But last year, a federal judge dismissed one claim, noting that the ordinance falls within the city’s authority to promote residents’ health and welfare. And in 2015, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit rejected another hotel’s claim and upheld the ordinance as a “rational” attempt to preserve low-income housing.

Barbara Schultz, director of housing justice at the Legal Aid Foundation of Los Angeles, said the law is well-settled. Her 2002 lawsuit against the city’s redevelopment agency resulted in a settlement that preserved downtown residential hotels and sparked the city’s interest in an ordinance.

“The city is squandering a great opportunity to have more housing,” Schultz said. Without tight enforcement, she said, “people on the street who could be in housing are not.”

By the time Verge bought the American, the Housing Department had determined it to be a residential hotel in 2008 and again in 2011. City records show Verge’s attorney inquired about the American’s status, and in a 2013 letter, the department confirmed it was subject to the residential hotel law, providing him a copy of the ordinance.

“I don’t even recall anything like that,” Verge said in an interview, asserting that he bought the American because he intended to run it as a tourist hotel.

How Verge turned the American into a tourist hotel

Verge said in an interview that he wanted to buy the American in 2013 because of its rich history and his own memories of hanging out with friends at Al’s Bar.

“We were kids from Santa Monica and liked to go there,” he said. It was, he added, a “different world.”

Al’s Bar, located on the American’s ground floor, rose to fame in the city’s arts and music scene in the 1980s and 1990s as it attracted up-and-coming bands like Nirvana, Hole and Sonic Youth. Some tenants thought of Al’s as their living room where they played pool and drank beer. But it also attracted celebrities. Then-Gov. Jerry Brown and singer Linda Ronstadt once dropped in at Al’s, where graffiti covered the walls and a neon sign near the bar warned, “TIP OR DIE.”

Patrons, including some American Hotel tenants, hang out at Al’s Bar in the late 1990s. The bar closed in 2001.

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But above all, the American provided cheap housing for people who didn’t have other options. The American, which was originally called the Canadian, was built in 1905 as the one of the only Los Angeles hotels where African Americans were welcome. And ever since, it had been a refuge for people on the margins of society. It was a classic residential hotel that one former tenant dubbed “a flophouse for artists,” offering basic single rooms and shared bathrooms.

At the American, former residents said they needed no application or credit check. A month’s rent would buy a month’s shelter, no questions asked.

When Verge took over, the American was in bad shape. In 2012, a housing inspector had warned the building department that the hotel was in danger of collapsing.

Verge denied offering buyouts to move and said the residents requested relocation payments from him. “I’m not a cash for keys guy,” he said. But seven former residents interviewed by Capital & Main and ProPublica said they had received a buyout offer and knew of others who had as well. A printed notice provided by a former resident says, “the owner of the building would like to offer relocation assistance to anyone already considering a move.” The former residents said Verge also promised that if they were willing to endure the noise and dust of a remodel, he would let them stay. And some did.

Verge said the American had been partially operating as a tourist hotel when he bought it. But five tenants said that wasn’t the case. “They were all residents,” Giner wrote in an email. A photo published in the Los Angeles Times in 2013 shows Verge perched atop a pay phone outside the hotel. Just above him is a sign that reads, “Apartments for Rent,” with the name of his company, Westside Rentals.

Verge had started other hotels, restaurants and bars and seemed to bet that the American’s mystique would lure guests willing to lug suitcases up stairs and share bathrooms for a chance to drink in the hotel’s bohemian past. Graffitied walls, an Al’s sign and a giant mural of L.A. artist Ed Ruscha adorn the building’s façade, though most of the American’s artist residents and the noise and chaos of the hotel’s heyday are long gone.

A guest leaves the American Hotel in April.

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For Verge, who once owned racehorses and was briefly the CEO of Santa Anita Park, it was a bet that paid off.

Yet Verge never applied to the Housing Department for permission to convert his new purchase, according to department records. And as he remade the American into a tourist hotel, Verge suffered no legal repercussions for failing to build replacement housing or pay the in-lieu housing fee to the city. Either option would have been costly: In addition to site acquisition, the cost of building affordable housing averaged about $450,000 per unit between 2014 and 2016, according to the Terner Center for Housing Innovation at the University of California, Berkeley.

Even when the American remodel began, it slipped undetected through a key enforcement mechanism in the residential hotel law: The Housing Department must approve building permit applications at residential hotels to ensure the owners aren’t converting rooms into tourist accommodations.

Five times between 2014 and 2018, the American applied for building permits. Verge repaired a crack in an exterior wall and put a new roof on the building. He remodeled bathrooms and repaired drywall and stucco. But only one permit was ever reviewed for adherence to the residential hotel law, according to building department records.

In 2016, a housing inspector found 32 rooms had been remodeled and a laundry area had been added, noting “permit required.” Records show the inspector didn’t inquire about whether the rooms were redone for short-term guests and never followed up. Verge wasn’t cited for violations of the residential hotel law.

The Housing Department’s code enforcement director Robert Galardi told Capital & Main and ProPublica that the hotel was inspected last November, resulting in “minimal code violations with compliance obtained in a timely manner.” The inspection made no mention of the hotel’s tourist offerings, which the hotel advertises on a sandwich board sign just outside the front door.

Told of the tourist conversion, Galardi said he’d “conduct further investigation.”

Failure to enforce

The Housing Department has plenty of mechanisms for enforcing the law, yet the city has used hardly any of them — even in the face of what appear to be violations.

The TikTok account of the Hometel Suites in Koreatown features videos of guest rooms and the reception desk as K-pop songs play in the background. Guests can dine on $115 steamed crab dinners at the hotel’s seafood restaurant. Years ago, the Housing Department had determined Hometel — once known as the Hamilton — to be a residential hotel, and in 2008 and in 2011 the department informed the hotel’s then-owners it was subject to the ordinance.

Galardi said his inspectors saw no evidence of short-term rentals at the Hometel when they visited the hotel in May 2019. But at least since March of that year, a three-story-tall banner on the façade has shown a family with suitcases on a luggage cart and the message “Book your stay today.”

General manager Becky Hong said neither she nor the owner would comment on Hometel’s residential hotel status or city enforcement, and she did not respond to emailed questions.

A review of more than 10,000 pages of Housing Department documents obtained under the California Public Records Act, including inspectors’ notes, correspondence and other enforcement records, along with interviews with housing officials, shows hotel owners have little reason to fear fines or prosecution for violating the residential hotel law.

Logan Altman, the former owner of the Ramona Motel in South Los Angeles, said when he bought the property in 2016, the previous owner had assured him he could rent out rooms on a nightly basis without fear of a city crackdown.

“What I heard was enforcement was somewhat lax,” he said. “The seller said he hadn’t had any problems.” And neither did Altman, according to Housing Department records. He sold the motel to a nonprofit housing developer in 2021.

In the past 15 years, L.A. Housing Department data shows, the city has cited just 17 hotels under the law. However, the city’s recordkeeping seems deficient: Capital & Main and ProPublica found two additional hotels it cited by separately looking through enforcement records provided by the department. Only four of the 21 residential hotels that Capital & Main and ProPublica found marketing rooms to tourists have been given warnings by housing inspectors for residential hotel violations.

A block away from Hometel at the H Hotel, a neon H on the building’s brick façade signals the former East West Hotel’s new hip vibe. A Saturday-night stay ranges from $200 to $270, and a crystal chandelier hangs above the lobby near a lounge where guests can order brunch and $115 bottles of champagne.

The H Hotel, formerly known as the East West Hotel, on 8th Street in L.A.’s Koreatown.

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A vendor sells clothing and kitchen items on 8th Street near the H Hotel.

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People dine at the H Hotel’s bustling restaurant, the H Cafe.

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Last year, a housing inspector noted that Nojan Haddadi, the H Hotel’s operations manager, told him that the property is currently being used as a “transient hotel,” using the legal term for hotels that rent rooms to tourists. But the hotel, which is officially designated residential, never applied to convert to a tourist hotel, Housing Department records show. And there’s no evidence in the records that the department took any enforcement action against the hotel for violating the residential hotel law. Haddadi told Capital & Main and ProPublica that the hotel hasn’t accepted long-term residents since 2019. He said he didn’t know if the hotel was violating the law but noted that the hotel’s management has asked the city to remove its residential designation. The H Hotel’s owner, Mike Barry, declined to answer questions, citing advice from his attorney.

When asked why the Housing Department hasn’t enforced the law against the H Hotel, Galardi noted that his inspector was barred from entering without an administrative warrant. Haddadi said the hotel had been instructed by its attorney not to let inspectors in. Galardi wrote, “Moving forward, staff will conduct further investigation regarding tourist units.”

Throughout the inspection records, a pattern emerged: Hotel owners or their attorneys could dodge city regulators simply by refusing to consent to inspections without a court order.

The department could obtain such warrants, but Galardi said that its inspectors have not secured them — to enter either the H Hotel or others whose owners have barred inspectors.

Even when city inspectors have attempted to enforce the law, their efforts have proved futile because they haven’t always followed up to ensure compliance. Between 2016 and 2018, L.A. housing inspectors ordered the owners of the Studio Lodge, Hyland Inn, Central Inn Motel and Top Hat Motel to either return their rooms to residential use or obtain the required clearances to convert them.

But after inspectors said they’d return to ensure the violations were corrected, attorney Frank Weiser, who represented the Hyland, the Central Inn and the Top Hat, sent letters to the Housing Department that said they would not be allowed to reenter without administrative warrants. Housing Department enforcement records show no evidence that inspectors obtained warrants — even though the hotels were also cited for fire safety and electrical issues that inspectors rated as “high severity” violations.

And until recently, travelers could still book rooms online at any of the three hotels.

The owner of the Central Inn and the manager of the Top Hat said they had recently begun providing short-term housing funded by local homelessness programs. But the Top Hat manager said the motel still does nightly rentals when there are vacancies, and both acknowledged they’d been offering daily rates until earlier this year. Neither hotel owner answered written questions about whether the nightly rentals violated the residential hotel law. The owner of the Studio Lodge didn’t return phone calls or emails seeking comment.

Weiser, who still represents the Hyland’s owner, said he thinks the hotel corrected its housing code violations. But he said of the residential hotel violations, “The bottom line: There was never any action taken by the city. I think that speaks for itself.”

Sharma, the law professor, who previously advised former L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti on housing policy, noted the residential hotel law allows the city attorney to seek court orders to stop building owners from renting to tourists.

“I think by even filing against a few buildings, it sends a message to the rest of the buildings that the city is watching,” she said. “That’s how enforcement works in larger scale.”

The residential hotel ordinance also required the Housing Department to file annual reports to the City Council and mayor, informing them of the total number of residential hotel units, any conversions or demolitions and the department’s enforcement activities. But in response to a public records request, the department told Capital & Main and ProPublica that it didn’t have any of the reports. The city clerk’s office said it has no record of receiving any, and Galardi said he didn’t think the reports were ever compiled.

Good, the Housing Department’s senior policy adviser, said that understaffing is an obstacle to enforcement, pointing out that a single inspector is assigned to all of the city’s residential hotels. “There are significant capacity issues,” he said.

The bleak contrast between the American’s trendy remodel and the city’s homelessness crisis can be seen on the surrounding streets. On one recent day, a man pushed a shopping cart full of plastic bags past the hotel’s sandwich board advertising rooms and suites. On another, a man covered head to toe in dirty blankets stood against a graffitied wall as a tour group admired the art behind him.

Tourists on an arts walk pass a man draped in blankets in the heart of the Arts District in April.

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As tourists spilled out of the American, many said they were shocked by the seemingly endless tents pitched on downtown sidewalks and were startled to learn that the American was supposed to be reserved for the city’s neediest residents.

“I don’t like to hear that,” said Britt Booram, a real estate agent from Indianapolis as she got into a black van after checking out of the hotel.

Galardi said Capital & Main and ProPublica’s reporting had “gotten the ball rolling” on another potential enforcement tool to shut down short-term rentals in residential hotels: the city’s 2018 Home-Sharing Ordinance, which regulates listings on sites like Airbnb. But it’s rarely been used in the past. The city has fined just two hotels, and the planning department issued warning letters to a third hotel in 2020.

Only one of the three has stopped accepting online bookings. The others continue to advertise residential hotel rooms to tourists.

This story will be updated. Check back for details.

Ticket registration for the 2028 Olympic Games is officially open. Fans have until March 18 to join the ticket draw, and tickets will go on sale in April, starting with a pre-sale for locals.

After registration for the ticket raffle opened at 7a.m. Wednesday, some reported long wait times to register, and others still had questions about the process after signing up.

Here are answers to some of your questions.

When will I learn if I was selected for a time slot to buy tickets?
You'll get an email between March 31 and April 7 if you win a slot.

How many tickets can I buy?
You can buy up to 12 tickets.

Do kids need tickets? 
Yes. Kids of any age will need their own ticket.

The locals pre-sale is for people living in certain zip codes. How will Olympics organizers verify that the people purchasing the tickets are locals?
LA28 asks locals to register using their ZIP code and then use the same billing ZIP code when actually purchasing tickets.

Will I be able to buy multiple tickets for one event? 
Yes. LA28 says in its FAQ that you can transfer tickets to other "named ticket holders."

Can I buy group tickets?
Yes. Groups of 50 people or more can fill out an interest form to purchase group tickets.

When I buy tickets, can I select my seat?
You will be able to choose a "seat category" but not a specific seat, according to LA28. Its website says that your seat will be assigned to you later on.

Will people be able to re-sell their tickets?
Yes. According to LA28, there will be an "Official Secondary Market." The organization didn't provide any additional details.

Will each ticket drop have tickets for all sports?
Yes. According to LA28, tickets for every Olympic sport will be on sale in each drop.

On Wednesday afternoon, a four-person astronaut crew is set to strap into a SpaceX capsule and undock from the International Space Station.

The members of NASA's Crew-11 mission are coming home about a month early because one of the crew has a health condition worrisome enough that the space agency decided the person needed to get thoroughly checked out on the ground.

NASA astronauts Zena Cardman and Mike Fincke, along with Russian cosmonaut Oleg Platonov and an astronaut from Japan named Kimiya Yui, are expected to splash down off the coast of California early Thursday morning.

This is the first medical evacuation of the International Space Station in its 25-year history. Officials have stressed that it's not an emergency evacuation, as the astronaut's condition is stable. The identity of the astronaut and the nature of the problem have not been released for privacy reasons.

During a change-of-command ceremony beamed down from the orbiting outpost on Monday, all seven people on board the International Space Station spoke on camera, and none appeared obviously ill.

"Our timing of this departure is unexpected, but what was not surprising to me was how well this crew came together as a family to help each other and just take care of each other," said Cardman, "and this includes very much our teams on the ground."

"We are all OK. Everyone on board is stable, safe, and well cared for," Fincke wrote in a social media post, saying that coming home early was "the right call, even if it's a bit bittersweet."

Another NASA astronaut, Chris Williams, and two Russian cosmonauts will remain on board the station. A replacement four-person crew is scheduled to launch in a SpaceX capsule in February.

NASA's Crew-11 is shown taking off on a SpaceX rocket from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida last August for the International Space Station. NASA decided to end the mission and return to Earth a month early because one of the four members has an undisclosed medical condition.

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NASA trains crews for medical emergencies and even has considered what to do if an astronaut dies in orbit.

Previously, space station officials had predicted that they might have to bring an astronaut home early for health reasons as often as once every three years or so during the lifetime of the orbiting outpost.

"And we've not had one to date," James Polk, NASA's chief health and medical officer, noted in a press briefing.

The first public sign of the current medical issue came on Jan. 7 when NASA abruptly called off the first planned spacewalk of the year, saying the agency was "monitoring a medical concern with a crew member that arose Wednesday afternoon aboard the orbital complex." The next day, the agency announced plans to bring its Crew-11 team back early.

Polk said this situation was serious enough that the team wanted to do a full diagnostic workup on the astronaut, "and the best way to complete that work is on the ground, where we have the full suite of medical testing hardware."

It's not the first time that teams back on Earth have had to triage medical conditions in space, given that the station has been continuously inhabited for a quarter-century and astronauts can suffer from the usual routine ailments that affect mortal humans — as well as physical issues associated with unusual movements of body fluids because of microgravity.

"We've had a host of different things that we've treated on orbit," Polk said, listing health troubles like toothaches and ear pain.

They've even dealt with problems like a blood clot in an astronaut's jugular vein that was discovered accidentally, during a research study on blood circulation in space.

In that case, NASA consulted with Stephan Moll, an expert on blood clots and bleeding disorders at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He says a clot in this vein is uncommon on the ground, to say nothing about space, and there were a lot of unknowns; untreated, it might just resolve on its own, or it might progress to more serious complications.

Fortunately, for reasons Moll says he can't disclose, the station happened to have an injectable anti-clotting drug on board, which the astronaut took until pills could be sent up on a resupply mission.

Injecting the drug in space wasn't easy, however, as microgravity turned the liquid in the vial into floating drops that had to be hunted down with the needle. "In space, it took about 20 minutes for the astronaut, initially, to fill one syringe," he says, so it was quite cumbersome but doable.

Moll says he was really struck by the professionalism of the whole NASA team in working through this conundrum. "I was so impressed how detailed-oriented and thoughtful people are, not just assuming things," he says.

And he remembers getting a call on his home phone from the orbiting astronaut, up on the station, who wanted to talk things over with him directly.

"They're just in a different environment, but it comes down to the same concerns that other patients have," says Moll. "They're just normal people up there."
Copyright 2026 NPR

What brings Greg Reyes to this Walmart south of Savannah are the low prices. He and his wife keep a close eye on their limited budget; she's retired and he's disabled. Their grocery list is always the same. But the prices have been changing.

"I used to pay like $40 a year ago, and now we're paying like $60," Reyes says. In his bags today are some chicken, turkey and beef. Other things simply had to go. "We don't buy ice cream no more because it's expensive," Reyes says. "It's kind of sad, but we have to do it like that."

The cost of living in the U.S. rose 2.7% in December compared with a year before, according to Tuesday's federal data. That's a steady slowdown after a yearslong stretch of intense inflation, but still painful. The past year also brought a global trade war, as President Trump imposed sweeping tariffs on nearly all imports. And the world continued to grapple with extreme weather, from droughts to downpours.

All of this is showing up in our shopping carts.

Since 2018, NPR has tracked the prices of dozens of items at this suburban Walmart superstore. Walmart is America's most popular retailer and the world's largest, which gives it the power to negotiate with suppliers for some of the lowest and most stable prices.

Here's what we learned on our latest price-check visit, in December. (Or skip the analysis to see the full details of NPR's shopping cart.)

Prices in NPR's basket rose 5% on average last year

Almost half the items on NPR's shopping list got more expensive in 2025, including shrimp, Oreo cookies, Coca-Cola and Dove soap. Some price increases, notably on items made in China and Vietnam, appear to be tariff related. Other price hikes had to do with weather events affecting harvests of crops such as cacao and coffee beans.

Just under a quarter of the items on NPR's list got cheaper, including eggs, milk and Cheerios. And many packaged foods stayed the same after years of price hikes.

As affordability became Americans' top concern, big brands began to worry about shoppers switching to store-label competitors or skipping some purchases altogether. To entice weary shoppers, NPR found, Walmart offered more discounts in December than it had in previous years.

A few disclaimers about our method:

• We went through almost every aisle in this Walmart to come up with the 114 items. (The full table is below.) To account for possible changes in package sizes, we focused on the price per unit, whether it was an ounce of salsa or a square foot of aluminum foil.
  
• NPR reached out to the producers of all the items on our list that changed in price. Most companies did not respond. The few that did — including Kikkoman and Campbell's — noted that Walmart, as the retailer, has ultimate control over the prices that shoppers see on shelves.
  
• A Walmart spokesperson said in a statement: "We remain dedicated to providing our customers Every Day low prices, with the goal of having the lowest price on a basket of goods over time." A store, for example, might extract deals from suppliers or charge slightly more for several items in order to sell something else at a break-even price or even below cost.

Tariffs loom over store shelves

With tariffs being the biggest story in retail in 2025, signs of their impact inevitably showed up in Walmart's aisles. Though it's hard to pin any price increase on tariffs with certainty, the through line was noticeable.

Some of the biggest price jumps were on items imported from countries saddled with hefty tariffs: Walmart's store-brand paper folders made in China (up 46%), swai fish fillets from Vietnam (up 34%), Farberware's plastic measuring spoons made in China (up 19%) and Schwinn's infant bike helmet, which used to be made in China but is now made in Vietnam (up 18%).

Walmart, Farberware and Schwinn did not comment on the impact of tariffs to NPR, but several other companies did. Dole, whose canned pineapple from Southeast Asia got 25% more expensive, cited weather-related crop shortages and tariffs on goods imported from the region.

Reynolds Wrap, whose aluminum foil rose in price by 13%, called out "historic and sustained cost increases over the past year, driven by tariffs, global supply pressures, rising energy costs, and limited availability." Much of U.S. aluminum comes from Canada, and these imports now face a 50% tax.

Walmart in May warned that new tariffs would lead to higher prices, as Trump threatened 145% tariffs on goods from China. The White House later paused, changed up and even rolled back some of its trade plans, namely on food items. By August, Walmart officials said tariff costs were rising "each week," although the company was able to mitigate many of them. In November, incoming Walmart CEO John Furner said tariffs brought "less impact" than expected early in the year.

Climate chaos roiled many industries

Some of the items with the worst price hikes are repeat offenders: coffee, beef and chocolate. They, too, were affected by tariffs — such as beef and coffee coming from Brazil — but the main culprit was the weather.

At this Walmart, the price of Maxwell House ground Colombian coffee rose by 46% in 2025 and its breakfast K-Cups by 34%. The costs of Hershey's and Lindt chocolates jumped around 26%. A pound of ground beef went up 30%, and the store now prominently displays a cheaper option: a blend of beef and ground pork.

The cost of coffee beans has soared as climate change has brought erratic rainfall patterns, floods and droughts to farmlands. Cacao harvests, too, have come up short for three years straight; West African farmers, who grow most of the world's supply, have dealt with extreme weather, changing climate patterns and disease in their aging trees. And the U.S. beef supply is at its lowest in decades, driving cattle prices to record highs, in part because of drought.

Kraft Heinz (which owns Maxwell House), Hershey and Lindt & Sprüngli in statements all cited the unprecedented higher costs of key raw materials, adding that they've also absorbed or offset part of those costs.

Shrinkflation continues in the laundry aisle

When inflation peaked after the COVID-19 pandemic, some manufacturers stealthily raised prices by shrinking their products — shampoo, paper towels, chips and candy — while charging the same or slightly more. In 2022, for example, NPR's Walmart visit found that Dove soap bars had shrunk by a quarter of an ounce, while rising in price by a few cents. (Dove maker Unilever did not comment.)

Last month, NPR spotted one case of shrinkflation: Tide laundry detergent. But the company says it's actually efficiency.

NPR first spotted Tide selling less laundry detergent per bottle in 2022: The amount of liquid had shrunk to 92 ounces from 100 ounces before the pandemic, and the price had risen by a dollar. After that, the cost stayed the same, but the contents shrank to 84 ounces in 2024 and then to 80 ounces in December.

The label continuously promised enough detergent for 64 loads of laundry.

Procter & Gamble, which makes Tide as well as Head & Shoulders shampoo (whose price rose almost 18%), told NPR that both products saw "meaningful upgrades" in the past year. Tide specifically got the "most significant upgrade to its liquid formula in over 20 years," according to the company, with a "boosted" level of active cleaning ingredients and updated dosage instructions.

"The result is superior cleaning performance in a smaller dose," a Procter & Gamble representative said.

Good news! Some things are cheaper

The biggest price drop finally came for eggs after record highs earlier in the year due to the persistent bird flu. By December, the price of a dozen eggs at Walmart dropped 30%. The cost of butter also dipped, by almost 16%, thanks to a glut in dairy production.

And as inflation-weary shoppers tighten their belts, brands have started doing something they rarely do: lowering prices. PepsiCo (maker of Lay's, Cheetos and Tostitos) last month said it would cut prices to boost sales. General Mills (maker of Cheerios, Betty Crocker and Annie's) also confirmed it plans to discount roughly two-thirds of its offerings. NPR's price check found Cheerios costing 19% less than a year ago.

A Walmart spokesperson also told NPR that the chain has added more discounts (or "rollbacks," in Walmart parlance) than it had in the past two years. The company cited 13,000 of them in the first three quarters of 2025, of which about 2,000 became permanent price cuts.

Copyright 2026 NPR

Last January, fires were raging across Los Angeles, smothering some 20 million people across the region in toxic smoke and ash.

L.A. residents worried that the air was toxic, the soil contaminated, and the water poisoned. Questions swirled about the health risks created by the burns — and there were few answers at hand from city, state or federal leaders.

Scientists from Los Angeles and around the country quickly scrambled into action as fires burned through the Pacific Palisades and Altadena. The priority, says UCLA physician and disaster researcher David Eisenman, was keeping people safe in the short term. But the fires also presented a moment to learn crucial missing information about the health effects of wildfires to help those affected and to better protect people's health from the inevitable next ones.

"This won't be the last wildfire that Los Angeles sees," says Eisenman. "Part of the community recovery process is to learn from what we experienced."

Researchers fanned out across the city to collect what data and samples they could. Doctors started thinking of ways to collect patient data to better understand the immediate and long-term health impact. They soon joined together to form a consortium that tied together 10 research institutions, developing a phalanx of research studies to explore some of the most pressing questions brought up by affected community members.

Some questions were simple but frustratingly hard to find answers to, like: What was in the smoke? Other questions, like those exploring the long-term health impacts, will take years to untangle. But answers are beginning to emerge.

Extra-dangerous smoke

Wildfire smoke is dangerous under any conditions. Exposure to high smoke levels is linked to respiratory problems such as asthma and COPD, cardiovascular issues and even dementia.

But from the first moment the Palisades and Eaton fires took hold last January, UCLA air pollution expert Yifang Zhu knew they were different. Because it wasn't just trees and plants burning: There was plastic from people's houses, and car batteries and asbestos tiles — a "toxic soup" of air pollutants, she says.

What was in that soup, and how dangerous it might be to human health — that wasn't clear. Official air quality monitors in downtown Los Angeles, miles away from the heart of the fires in Altadena and Pacific Palisades, recorded high levels of lead and arsenic in the air during the burns. Researchers from Caltech and the Georgia Institute of Technology later measured lead concentrations in air samples both near and far from the fires. Lead levels, they found, were elevated, even miles away, signaling that smoke and ash from the burns spread the dangerous heavy metal widely.

But many scientists suspected the smoke and ash spread other toxic particles and gases widely, too — chemicals that standard EPA and state monitors didn't test.

"We need to test more than just what the EPA calls for. And the EPA has limited resources," says Kari Nadeau, an environmental health scientist at Harvard University and one of the leads for the new research consortium. "But as academics, we can test for hundreds of things all at once, which helps the community. Because what you don't know, you don't know, but it can still hurt you."

Before the fires, Zhu and her team had been getting ready to sample the air at Aliso Canyon, where a natural gas leak in 2015 had caused major health problems for nearby residents. When the fires broke out, the team pivoted, taking their sampling equipment as close to the fires as they could.

That opportunity was special. Researchers are rarely ready to deploy at a moment's notice to capture samples during disasters such as the LA fires. The special circumstances let Zhu's team "set the stage about what's going on during this active fire burning all week," Zhu says.

Dust and ash from the Palisades and Eaton fires spread across the Los Angeles region.

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Zhu's team set up air filters to capture the ash, and they captured air samples inside and outside homes in the Palisades and Eaton fire regions. In the air samples, they looked for more than 20 different volatile organic compounds — gases, many of which harm human health, and are likely to be produced by the fires. And while the fires were still burning, they measured high levels of benzene, a carcinogen, at their outdoor sites.

Lingering risks

The high benzene levels dissipated after the burning stopped, Zhu found. But other dangerous gases actually increased later on, especially indoors. A few health-harming gases, including toluene and carbon tetrachloride, became more concentrated inside people's homes a few weeks after the fire.

The message was clear. "The fire impact doesn't really disappear with the active flame," Zhu says. Homes themselves can absorb dangerous gases in the drywall, furniture and other soft materials, releasing them for days and weeks after the smoke has dissipated. People need to know that their homes might be contaminated long after the fire is out, she says.

That wasn't the only lingering risk. Another research team started to look for a contaminant called hexavalent chromium, which can cause cancer, sometimes known as the "Erin Brockovich" contaminant, made famous by the movie of the same name. It can be produced when fires burn through certain types of soil or rock, as well as during industrial processes like welding. It's not often searched for after wildfires, but the researchers found it lingering in the air around cleanup sites long after the fires were out.

"It's actually one of those things that … makes you pay attention differently," says Joe Allen, an exposure scientist at Harvard University, who has been conducting ongoing research on building safety after the fires. And the contaminant was found in tiny particles so small that they can penetrate deep into people's lungs, bodies, and even directly to their brains.

"We've seen hexavalent chromium in soils after fires. I don't think anybody expected to see it in air. I don't think anybody expected to see it exclusively in the nanoparticle size range," Allen says.

Ash also contaminated people's homes, as well as soil and water across the region. The water impacts seemed to clear quickly, though longer-term effects are still being tracked. But levels of lead and other heavy metals inside people's homes and in the soil around them often remained high, even after cleanup was supposedly done.

"That is an ongoing question," says Allen. "Do we have enough funds to remediate all these properties, or are we just putting some people back into properties that are not properly cleared?"

Zhu was impressed by how much she and others learned about the dangerous smoke and ash. But she also worries they probably only scratched the surface. "We are only detecting things that our method allows us to detect. So even though we learn a lot from that, you know, I wonder what we missed," she says.

What does this all mean for people's health?

Scientists have known that in the short term, wildfire smoke exposure leads to more respiratory issues, such as asthma and COPD; increases the risk of developing dementia; and affects people's immune responses. But the full array of impacts, and the long-term costs of exposure, are still muddy.

"We know a lot about the health effects of wildfire smoke," says Allen. But "we don't know all that much about urban wildfire smoke. We certainly don't know what happens when you expose a population of 20 million people in the greater Los Angeles area to smoke like this, enriched in these toxic metals and other pollutants. "

The research is beginning to uncover some of the health impacts.

Cheng and colleagues collected data from the emergency room at Cedars-Sinai, one of the busiest in the region, and particularly close to the Palisades fire. In the 90 days following the fires, they saw a 24% increase in respiratory issues — and a 47% jump in heart attacks.

It was "very striking," she says. "This actually surpassed heart attack rates during January of all prior years, even during the worst years of COVID."

Homes and businesses in parts of Los Angeles were reduced to rubble and ash.

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Abnormal blood tests also spiked, increasing by more than 100% over previous levels. That included unexpected blood sugar readings, signs of a disrupted immune system, and changes to people's metabolic profiles — signals, Cheng says, of bodywide stresses that could be precursors to many different health problems down the line.

"For a very large number of people who lived through these January wildfires, the wildfire exposures led to some kind of a biochemical or metabolic stress in the body that likely affected not just one, but many organ systems," she says.

The team is now tracking some of those patients, trying to understand what health issues their unusual bloodwork might have signaled coming.

The ER data is likely just skimming the surface, says Eisenman. Longer-term health problems, from heart issues to mental health stresses, are likely to linger or develop in the coming years.

Ongoing research will explore the different health outcomes for people who experienced different levels of smoke and toxin exposure. A UCLA-led study has enrolled over 4,000 people from across the city to follow their health changes long-term. Another study will focus on the specific health outcomes for those who stayed behind at their homes to fight the fires, giving them extraordinarily high smoke doses. The LA Fire Health study consortium is also tracking the long-term health impacts on firefighters and first responders.

Much of the emerging research is being supported by private philanthropy, says Eisenman. The wildfires happened just before the Trump administration began its campaign to tighten budgets for many of the science agencies that have historically funded post-disaster research, like the National Science Foundation.

"That gap was really filled in by the research community, who did ongoing and extensive and really thoughtful testing of air, of water, of soil, of debris for toxins, and really rapidly communicated those results back to the community," he says. But how to financially support the long-term future of some key studies, he says, is still uncertain, because many major federal research funding resources — like NSF and the National Institute of Health — have shifted priorities under the Trump administration.

How to protect yourself and your family

The biggest questions for the ongoing research, many of the researchers say, are about how best to protect yourself from similar fires in the future.

Allen says there are some clear lessons. Overall, the less smoke one inhales, the better. So while outside, he says it's crucial to wear an N95 mask, or even a respirator that can protect you from the fire's gases.

Indoors, keeping clean air is crucial, says Zhu. Using air filters, ideally HEPA-rated, can lower indoor pollution significantly. Carbon filters are particularly effective at removing the gases, Allen says. People can also install HEPA filters in a car's air-handling system to keep the air clean while they drive.

"You want to control what you can control," says Allen. So inside your space, clean up dust and ash thoroughly. Filter the air. And consider a low-cost air monitor to keep track of the air quality inside.

For people most impacted by the fires, Allen stresses that adequate cleanup of soil and buildings is critical. "It was a bit of the Wild West out there" after the fires, he says. A lack of standardized testing protocols and a hodgepodge of policies from different insurers "really harmed the survivor community."

That lack of guidance left many unsure whether their homes were safe to live in again, and many others were forced to go back to homes that were demonstrably still unsafe.

"We need more coordinated recommendations and rules to help people know whether their homes are safe," Allen says.

It will take years to get a full picture of the health impacts of the LA fires, many of the researchers say. But it's critical to learn from the tragedy, says Nadeau, the Harvard environmental health scientist — to "be able to say, OK, in the future, here's what to do to protect your children or protect your elderly community against stroke," or lung cancer, or the myriad other risks from the wildfires that will, inevitably, come again.

Reporting for this story was supported by the Nova Institute for Health.

Copyright 2026 NPR