The Brief

Floyd Howard Jr. calls it his comfort zone — a canopy-covered courtyard in the heart of Skid Row where he can charge his phone, smoke a cigarette and catch up with friends.

It's also the centerpiece of what Los Angeles County administrators say is the nation's first community-designed homeless services campus.

The Skid Row Care Campus opened in May on a 36,000-square-foot site in downtown Los Angeles. It’s the first county program to formally incorporate input from people living in Skid Row, according to officials, including so-called “harm-reduction” programs that focus on keeping drug users safe and alive.

“It was imperative that the plan be designed by the community to repair the harm done by decades of plans that did not involve people who live in Skid Row,” said Molly Rysman with L.A. County’s Department of Health Services.

The care campus is funded with nearly $26 million a year in local, state, federal and private dollars over the next two years. About 2,000 people visit the new campus each day, according to Homeless Healthcare L.A., the main nonprofit staffing the campus.

Although it's only been open a few months, the center appears popular with unhoused Angelenos who desperately need a place to rest. Last month, one woman visited the campus for her first shower in months, she said, after receiving a buprenorphine injection to help her stop using fentanyl.

But some nearby business owners complain of more drug activity on the street since the facility opened.

Howard, a longtime Skid Row resident, said he visits the campus often to pick up the testing strips he uses to check his crystal methamphetamine supply for fentanyl.

Sometimes, he drops by for art classes or acupuncture treatment.

“It’s like a safe haven,” he said.

Centering the community

The site, at 422 S. Crocker St., provides a range of services, including showers, laundry, medical care and housing referrals. Booths line the south side of the plaza, where a rotating cast of representatives from the county’s three health departments provide pop-up services to connect people with addiction treatment or case management.

The primary clientele are the more than 1,800 unsheltered people living on the neighborhood’s streets who — despite the large concentration of homeless programs in the area — have access to few public restrooms and public gathering spaces.

The campus is the result of an initiative called the Skid Row Action Plan, a $280 million effort to expand services and housing funded by L.A. County, the city of L.A. and the state.

L.A. County Supervisor Hilda Solis launched the initiative in 2022 to address historic racism and disinvestment in the neighborhood, where the majority of the unhoused population is Black.

“Engaging the community was not just important; it was essential,” said Solis, whose district includes Skid Row. “Their voices must guide the path forward. Real transformation can only be led by those who live this reality every day.”

A committee of 10 current and former Skid Row residents collaborated with government agencies in 2023 to come up with recommendations for the plan in 2023. That group, known as the Skid Row Action Plan Resident Advisory Committee, recommended the new campus.

They said they wanted a fun community space where they could connect with services and a place where drug users can pick up harm reduction supplies, such as clean needles or pipes, overdose reversal medication and drug testing strips.

As a member of the advisory committee, Skid Row activist General Dogon said he pushed for the campus entrance to be staffed by “community ambassadors,” rather than private security guards.

“Uniforms don't go good with homeless people,” said Dogon, an organizer with the L.A. Community Action Network. “We want everyday faces to be at the door, not some G.I. Joe in a uniform.”

General Dogon observes an encampment sweep along a block of Skid Row.

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Jules Hotz

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CalMatters

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L.A. County officials said input from members of the unhoused community is sometimes ignored, and they are not properly compensated for their efforts. So authorities said they wanted to take a different approach at the care campus.

After the Skid Row Action plan started taking shape, the county hired an additional eight unhoused or formerly unhoused people to serve on resident councils for the Skid Row Care Campus. Each is paid a $10,000 consulting stipend and tasked with surveying other community members about what’s working and what isn’t. They also provide training and technical assistance for the campus’ programs.

“I like the fact that it's focused from the ground up and not the top down,” said Dwight Wilson, a member of a resident council. “It wants to  incorporate the actual feeling of the people in the community that need the resources.”

Even the name, “Skid Row Care Campus,” came from the community. It was suggested by Henriëtte Brouwers, associate director of the L.A. Poverty Department, a nonprofit arts organization and theater group that’s been in Skid Row since 1985.

“ People often talk about Skid Row like it's a bad place; they don’t care to find out why it’s here,” Brouwers said. “But people recover when they build relationships, and you build relationships when you care about somebody.

“I think if we want to end homelessness, we need to actually care.”

An estimated 3,593 homeless people live in Skid Row, including those in homeless shelters, according to the region’s latest count. While the overall unhoused population in the neighborhood has declined by 27% since 2022, the remaining population faces greater health risks, according to survey data.

About 41% of the people in Skid Row’s unhoused population have a serious mental illness, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or post traumatic stress disorder. Roughly 31% deal with substance use disorder, and 26% claim a physical disability.

To meet some of those needs at the Skid Row Care Campus, the nonprofit health agency John Wesley Community Health Institute runs an on-site clinic and a 48-bed board-and-care facility, which provides permanent housing to people who need help with basic activities like dressing or eating. It’s moving in residents this week, according to county officials.

In several months, Skid Row’s first-ever methadone clinic will open here.

Case workers from the county’s three health departments, LAHSA and other departments rotate through booths within the main courtyard of the Skid Row Care campus.

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Aaron Schrank

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LAist

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People can check in at the medical wing, which includes a clinic, a harm reduction dispensary and dozens of respite beds. The first methadone clinic in Skid Row is expected to open there this year.

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Aaron Schrank

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LAist

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Harm reduction 

Many programs at the facility focus on harm reduction, a public health approach that recognizes addiction is a health condition and that some people aren’t going to immediately quit using drugs.

Harm reduction interventions typically focus on minimizing the negative health effects of drug use.

Public health officials and addiction experts say there is ample evidence these approaches not only save lives, but can also help people get into treatment or sobriety, connect them with other services or get them off the street.

But harm reduction remains controversial. Some view these approaches as enabling illegal behavior.

Last month, President Donald Trump signed an executive order encouraging the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development to give priority for housing grants to local agencies that enforce laws against open illicit drug use.

Trump’s order directs his attorney general to ensure that federal substance use disorder grants do not fund harm reduction programs. It also directs HUD to require people with substance use disorders or serious mental illness to seek treatment before they participate in federal housing and homelessness assistance programs.

Days before the executive order, a Trump-appointed HUD administrator told L.A. County officials at a meeting that he believed the region wasn’t doing enough enforcement and was critical of providing housing subsidies to people who use drugs, according to local officials who were there. L.A. County officials said it’s too early to tell what the actual effects of the new order will be.

Drug overdose is the leading cause of death for unhoused Angelenos, according to the county Public Health Department. Skid Row is home to the largest homeless population in L.A. and the highest rates of drug overdose mortality.

There are no designated safe-consumption sites — where people are allowed to use drugs under supervision — in California, although some exist in other parts of the country. A few years ago, Gov. Gavin Newsom vetoed a state bill that would have allowed them.

On the street outside the Skid Row Care Campus, there are many signs that people are using illicit drugs. But they can’t use them inside the facility. The staff won’t allow it.

Last month, when one woman hit her meth pipe while lounging on the patio, a staff member tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to put it away. She complied.

The Skid Row Care Campus’ main harm reduction provider is Homeless Healthcare L.A., best known for its overdose response teams who roll through Skid Row in Jeeps to pass out supplies like clean smoking kits and naloxone, the opioid overdose reversal drug.

“Harm reduction was created by people who use drugs,” said the nonprofit’s Aurora Morales. “And everything that we do reflects what they need.”

On a recent afternoon, Floyd Howard Jr. folded squares of clean tin foil to be packed into kits for fentanyl smokers, as part of a campus work program.

“People that smoke fentanyl, they use the foil to put their drug on and smoke it,” Howard said. “So it's safer to get this from them than to just use some off the ground or something that's not clean.”

Howard added that he’s seen supplies like these save countless lives, including his own.

“If it wasn't for these people, a lot of people would be dead,” he said. “I have a whole lot of people that I met downtown here that passed from overdose.”

An unhoused couple who go by “Porkchop” and “Angel” prepare to visit the Skid Row Care Campus to take their first showers in months. Both had recently taken long-acting injectable doses of buprenorphine to quit using fentanyl, after years of daily use.

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Aaron Schrank

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LAist

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Building community

The care campus sits beside the Umeya Apartments, a 175-unit supportive housing complex managed by the nonprofit Little Tokyo Service Center. Representatives say tenants will start moving in this month.

Most of the site’s neighbors are also homeless services providers. But some business owners complain of increased loitering and drug use outside the campus gates.

“ A lot of people don't want to come here anymore just because the street is so bad and they're scared,” said one representative from a nearby business, who requested anonymity to avoid retaliation. “ They should be helping people get off drugs instead of helping them do drugs.”

Morales of Homeless Healthcare L.A. said she’s working on partnerships with local businesses, including sending work program participants to clean up debris in alleyways.

Many unhoused Skid Row residents say they’re frequently denied service and restroom access at local businesses. Some go days without a proper meal and weeks or even months without a shower.

That’s why the care campus is a refuge.

“ They cater to everybody, and they're not biased about anything,” said Lisa Parizo, a formerly unhoused Skid Row resident who visits the space daily. “If you come in with a dirty shirt, dirty pants, they don't care. They're not gonna give you any less attention.”

It’s too early to tell how the care campus may transform this section of Skid Row.

Months after opening, most people living on Skid Row’s streets still haven’t heard of the campus, said resident councilmember Dwight Wilson, whose responsibilities include evangelizing for the site.

“I haven't run into too many people that have actually been there,” said Wilson. “I'm usually letting them know for the first time.”

Wilson has been living in transitional housing in Skid Row for the past year, since getting out of prison. He saw a listing for this opportunity a few months ago and applied.

He said he’s learned a lot about his neighborhood during the last few months on the job.

“When I was sent down here, I was really upset,” Wilson said. “But actually being down here has been a very humbling experience for me. What I learned is that it is actually a community.”

Angelenos looking up Saturday may have noticed a particularly striking sight — a vibrant sunset framed by clouds.

Tropical moisture coming in from far off the coast could explain it.

“One thing that might have played a role in making it look awfully nice yesterday was those high clouds that were moving in,” Robert Munroe, meteorologist with the National Weather Service, said. “The way the sun was hitting the high clouds made some bright yellows and oranges in the sky. That moisture is actually related to probably mostly Odalys.”

An early sunset at yesterday's "Be The Light" 5K event in Valencia last night.

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Jenn Baughman

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Jenn Baughman

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Odalys is the hurricane (since downgraded to a tropical storm) churning off the coast of Mexico, along with Hurricane Polo.

Neither is expected to make landfall here, but they're forecast to bring high surf, dangerous rip tides and potential flooding to coastlines already battered this month by Hurricane Marie.

The bright side is Munroe said those high clouds from yesterday will be sticking around through at least today, which could make for another pretty sunset this evening.

An earthquake with a magnitude of 3.6 struck off the South Bay at about 8:40 a.m. and was reported as being felt as far as Oxnard.

The U.S. Geological Survey says it was centered about four miles west-southwest of Hermosa Beach. More than 1,500 people reported feeling it within the first hour after it struck. [You can report what you felt to the USGS.]

No significant damage has been reported, which is typical at this low of a magnitude.

The quake was below the threshold of 4.0 magnitude that triggers an alert on the ShakeAlert app.

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Courtesy ShakeAlert

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We have earthquake resources

We don't want to scare you, but the Big One is coming. We don't know when, but we know it'll be at least 44 times stronger than Northridge and 11 times stronger than the Ridgecrest quakes in 2019. To help you get prepared, we've compiled a handy reading list:

• Your guide to surviving the Big One
• For earthquakes, forget the 'go-bag.' Here's how to prepare
• How to not get life-threatening diarrhea after a major earthquake
• 10 earthquake-related questions to ask your landlord immediately
• How to prepare for an earthquake if you have a disability

Listen to our podcast

On a Sunday night at the Mexican restaurant La Popular in Claremont, diners are eating to a soundtrack that starts with cumbia and jumps to J Balvin and Bad Bunny before landing on Luther Vandross.

That’s the aim of DJ collective Compás Discoteca — to bring connection and community through live vinyl mixing at La Popular and El Balcon in Ontario.

How Compás Discoteca was born 

Ricardo Carlos, Elias Ruiz, Albert Piña and Adrian Silva have been friends for about two decades. They all DJ as a hobby and often share music. On a night out in 2024, they saw a sign: a parking space for a “compact car,” minus two letters.

“The C and T are missing — compá. Like, ‘We're compás,’” Carlos said, recounting that night.

A "Compás Discoteca" turntable mat.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Their DJ collective, Compás Discoteca, was born. “Compás” means “buddies” in Spanish and “Discoteca” means “nightclub."

Seasoning the scene

When Compás Discoteca first formed, the members said Southern California’s vinyl-listening scene was more focused on track selection, letting songs play out in full. The collective wanted to bring more life to the experience by mixing music live.

“It just seemed a little stale,” Silva said. “I feel like we helped to bring some seasoning to that.”

They also wanted to play genres people wouldn’t normally hear together.

“You might hear us jump from funk to cumbia to hip-hop to disco, soul to house. We're just trying to take people on a journey with us,” Silva said.

Each compá takes their turn at the turntables for two 30-minute sets. And each brings their own sound.

Three of the "compás" pose for a picture in between their sets.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Silva is the “party-starter.” He gets people dancing.

Carlos has a Latin bent, taking influence from his Puerto Rican, Salvadoran and Creole roots.

Ruiz lives for “jaw-drop moments” and brings records he thinks will surprise his fellow DJs.

Piña spins rare world grooves in the funk and boogie vein.

“He probably gets the most Shazams from us and from the audience,” Ruiz said of Piña. “But most importantly, you feel like you're hanging out and with some good music.”

Albert Piña prepares looks through a box of vinyl records during his DJ set at "La Popular" in Claremont.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Feeding off the energy

Compás Discoteca DJs at El Balcon in Ontario on the first Friday of each month and at La Popular in Claremont on the third Sunday.

The vibes for Sundays are chill, they said, and Fridays are for letting it all loose.

“There's like an energy there, like, ‘Oh, man, we made it through the week.’ We try to feed off of that,” Piña said.

Along Highway 62 in Joshua Tree, a stack of high school lockers holds something the High Desert was missing: a real New York-style bagel.

For that, you have DIY baker Richard Lee to thank.

“I want a bagel. What do I do?” Lee remembered thinking after moving to Twentynine Palms in 2023 from Los Angeles, where he had lived for more than a decade.

The Bagel Portal off Highway 62 in Joshua Tree.

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Richard Lee

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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It wasn’t just any bagel the born-and-raised New Yorker was craving, but the kind from back home that gives “a little crunch” when you bite into its crust — with a “chewy, softer” inside and a taste Lee calls “ineffable.”

“Like maybe a sourdough or an Italian bread,” he said.

Taught by YouTube, tested by family in New York

Richard Lee converted his garage in 29 Palms to make bagels.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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A tinkerer by nature, Lee launched 29 Loaves in early 2024, bringing bagels he handcrafts in his licensed home operation to Twentynine Palms, Joshua Tree and surrounding communities.

“I went to the culinary school of YouTube,” he said, having watched more than 100 videos on how to make a bagel. At first, he relied on his own taste buds as a guide, before sending his creations to his family in New York to taste.

After months of overnight shipping, Lee said, “Even a UPS store is asking me, ‘Why are you doing that?’”

“I know it makes no sense,” he told them. “That's how I operate.”

29 Loaves serves up New York-style bagels to Joshua Tree and other desert communities.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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Eventually, his sister gave the thumbs-up. To be extra, extra, extra sure, Lee went to folks living in the desert with New York ties to get their blessing.

“Attention is an ingredient,” Lee said of his bagels. It’s a philosophy he’s honed while running his other business providing IT services, which he now operates remotely.

“Garbage in, garbage out,” he said. “If you make a mistake or something falls on the bagel and marks it, it’ll end up that way as a finished product.”

Why bagels mean so much to him

Lee, whose father is Korean and mother is Brazilian, said his bakery is ultimately about food memories — and draws inspiration from what he ate growing up. The only other baked good 29 Loaves sells is pão de queijo, a gluten-free Brazilian cheese puff he makes.

Richard Lee handmakes New York-style bagels at his home operation.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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But nothing rivals bagels. Sundays were often bagel days in his childhood home in the Long Island suburbs. As a teenager working for his father, Lee remembered they would make detours off the Long Island Expressway to grab fresh bagels.

“They were nice and plump, and they were so hot,” he said.

Father and son would eat them straight out of the bag — no cream cheese, no nothing.

“Those were the types of memories that I wanna bring here,” Lee said.