The Brief

The Los Angeles City Council voted Tuesday to establish a long-debated “Right to Counsel” ordinance, which aims to provide free attorneys to low-income tenants facing eviction.

Tenant rights groups cheered the passage of a policy they’ve spent years advocating for, but cautioned that it could take five years or more before the city has enough funding and lawyers to give all eligible renters free legal representation in eviction court.

“We’re working to get there,” said Catalina Romo Paxcle with Stay Housed L.A., a coalition of legal service providers funded by the city and county of L.A. “This is a win moving toward justice in the courtroom and having a chance at a fair trial.”

Tenants facing eviction have not had the same right to a free attorney as defendants in criminal court. As a result, very few L.A. renters are accompanied by a lawyer in eviction court, where an estimated 95% of landlords have an attorney.

Tenant advocates say this imbalance in legal representation puts renters at a severe disadvantage, increasing their odds of becoming part of an unhoused population that has grown sharply in L.A. over the past decade.

Where will the funding come from?

The ordinance was approved by the City Council in a 14-0 vote. Councilmember Curren Price was absent.

The language of the ordinance clarifies that free eviction attorneys will be provided only to tenants earning less than 80% of the area’s median income. Right now, that means up to $77,700 per year for an individual or $110,950 for a family of four.

In Tuesday’s meeting, Councilmember Nithya Raman said L.A. was finally able to pass a policy she and other councilmembers introduced more than two years ago due to funding approved by voters through Measure ULA. It’s sometimes called the city’s “mansion tax,” though much of the measure’s revenue comes from the sale of commercial buildings and apartment complexes.

Some questions remain about "Right to Counsel," such as how much funding the city will be able to put toward the new program. Measure ULA raised nearly $300 million dollars in the 2024 fiscal year, and the measure requires 10% of annual revenue go toward the "Right to Counsel" program.

One previous report from L.A.’s Housing Department concluded that a fully funded "Right to Counsel" program would cost the city about $68 million per year.

Advocates say more lawyers are needed 

Barbara Schultz, an attorney with the Legal Aid Foundation of L.A., said if the program launches with around $30 million in funding, the city would be able to connect low-income renters facing eviction within certain priority ZIP codes with about 80 lawyers currently handling eviction defense cases countywide through Stay Housed L.A.

“This has to be phased in,” Schultz said. “We can't instantly provide all tenants in the city of L.A. with a right to counsel and evictions, because we don't have enough attorneys to do that yet. It's something that we need to build up.”

Schultz said tenants living outside the current priority ZIP codes would not be disqualified for eviction defense attorneys, but they would be less likely to receive them. Schultz estimates L.A. needs closer to 300 eviction attorneys to serve every qualified renter throughout the county.

With Tuesday’s vote, L.A. now joins other cities, including New York, Philadelphia and San Francisco, that have passed their own versions of a "Right to Counsel" in recent years. Tenants in unincorporated areas of L.A. County became the first in Southern California to receive such support after a vote by the county’s Board of Supervisors last summer.

How tenants can ask for help

 
Landlord groups have argued that local governments would be better off spending funds on rental assistance to struggling tenants, rather than paying lawyers to defend them in eviction court.

In a letter to the City Council ahead of Tuesday’s vote, Janet Gagnon with the Apartment Association of Greater Los Angeles urged lawmakers to change a provision in the ordinance that would have allowed all tenants to challenge an eviction if their landlord failed to notify them of the Right To Counsel protections, even if that tenant did not meet the program’s qualifications.

“It is astounding that such unwarranted complications are being proposed,” the letter read. Councilmembers amended the ordinance Tuesday to clarify that this protection applied only to tenants eligible for the program.

For now, Schultz said, tenants facing eviction who believe they would qualify for help should reach out at StayHousedLA.org or call (888) 694-0040.

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. After all, it was just a diner.

Sure, Phil Rosenthal (creator of Everybody Loves Raymond and Netflix's Somebody Feed Phil) and Nancy Silverton (owner of Mozza and Chi Spacca) — two of Los Angeles' most iconic food voices — were teaming up on the project. Still, the concept was modest: fluffy scrambled eggs, turkey club sandwiches and coffee refills.

Named in memory of Rosenthal's late parents, Max and Helen — familiar faces to fans of his Netflix series — their unpretentious love of diner classics became both the menu's foundation and its guiding philosophy.

Yet within weeks of opening in November, Max & Helen's had eight-hour waits, viral hot chocolate and celebrity sightings, including Timothée Chalamet, Kylie Jenner and Selena Gomez. It came as a shock to the newly married couple running it all, Lily Rosenthal Royal, Phil's daughter and the diner's creative director, and her husband, Mason Royal, the director of operations, who oversees the kitchen. (They started working together a week after their wedding).

"We thought we were gonna be hot for Larchmont," Rosenthal Royal says.

Instead, Max & Helen's became a destination — the kind of place people plan their weekends around, wait four hours for and drive across L.A. to experience.

Lily & Mason

Rosenthal and Silverton were never going to run Max & Helen's themselves — the plan was always to build it and hand it over. Royal, who has 12 years of restaurant experience, caught Silverton's attention during tastings.

"Nancy was like,'I feel like Mason would be good as the guy running the show,'" Rosenthal Royal said.

The couple had been developing their own pop-up when the opportunity at the diner arose, and suddenly they were running the family business.

For Royal, working with Silverton has been a dream. For Rosenthal Royal, the project is deeply personal — a love letter to her grandparents and the diners her father grew up on.

"We opened it almost selfishly because we live in Larchmont," she said. "We wanted a diner for ourselves, for our friends, for our community."

Wood-paneled walls and vintage family photographs create a nostalgic atmosphere at Max & Helen's diner.

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Catherine Dzilenski

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Courtesy Max & Helen's

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Rosenthal is clear about their importance.

“Diners are democratic with a small D,” he told me last year when the project was still in development. Places where everyone is welcome, where community can flourish — something he felt was increasingly rare.

Worth the wait

The frenzy has now cooled slightly — while weekends still draw four-hour waits, midweek is much calmer.

When I visited with my family on a recent weekday morning, the wait was about 45 minutes. We were seated in the corner banquette area, accompanied by crocheted cushions bearing the name "Max & Helen's." Along with the wood-paneled walls and the black-and-white family photographs, it felt more like a cozy roadside diner you'd stumble upon on a drive up the coast than something nestled among the lifestyle boutiques and specialty stores that crowd Larchmont Boulevard.

Breakfast wins

The menu was simple, which made ordering easy, with breakfast and lunch options.

I tried Nancy's omelet ($18) with herbs and farmer’s cheese, which was thin and crepe-like, folded perfectly at the edges, and impossibly fluffy, offering bursts of freshness from the herbs.

I was particularly curious to try the waffle, which has been both widely lauded (for its taste) and lambasted (for the $17 price point).

It was transcendent, with golden, crisp ridges and deep pockets built to cradle syrup. Rosenthal Royal told me they use a three-day-fermented sourdough batter, a labor-intensive process that gives the waffle its distinctive texture and flavor.

The $17 waffle with whipped maple butter uses a three-day fermented sourdough batter

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Catherine Dzilenski

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Courtesy Max & Helen's

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What truly set it apart, for me at least, was the whipped maple butter: airy and lush, melting into every nook, both indulgent and unexpectedly light.

As for the price — it's a generous portion, and a comparable waffle at Mel's Drive-In in Santa Monica costs $13.50. Apparently, those extra few dollars equal rage bait these days.

I was less impressed with the turkey club ($19), well-cooked bacon, fresh vegetables and a spicy mayo. Nice nods to California diner cuisine. But the bread was a bit thin, without the heft needed to support the rest of the sandwich's company.

Max & Helen's turkey club sandwich served with a side of tallow French fries and Lily's hot chocolate topped with a brûléed marshmallow

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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Still, the tallow fries ($8) were exceptionally crispy, and the hot chocolate, $9.50, — another viral sensation — was stellar, thick and rich with a brûléed marshmallow on top.

I even took the liberty of dipping a few fries into the chocolate, which turned out to be a genius move.

Looking ahead

Royal hasn't taken a day off since opening — a fact his wife is quick to call out with a laugh. Their partnership works because their roles complement each other: His operational rigor meets her's warmth and joy.

"Mason runs a tight ship," Rosenthal Royal said. "But we want this to be warm and fun and lighthearted."

It's that balance — systems and soul — that they hope will define Max & Helen's beyond the viral moments.

The pair hope Max & Helen's becomes an institution like Apple Pan or Musso & Frank — a place where, as Rosenthal Royal put it, "Max and Helen would feel at home, where everyone feels loved and seen and warm."

The counter at Max & Helen's evokes classic American diners.

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Catherine Dzilenski

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Courtesy Max & Helen's

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A man recently came in with a gift, telling Rosenthal Royal he'd met someone at the counter she'd seated him next to. They're now dating.

"If we could have that happen over and over again," she said, "I'd be so happy."

Beyond the diner, Rosenthal Royal is also releasing a children's book this spring, co-written with her father — a fitting parallel to their collaborative work at Max & Helen's. Three months in, they've built something bigger than they imagined. Whether it stands the test of time depends on whether the hype fades into something more enduring: a neighborhood fixture that just happens to make a really good waffle.