Carmelo Alvarez near the Levitt Pavilion in MacArthur Park, which now hosts an annual Radiotron event.
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Brian Feinzimer
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LAist
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Topline:
Radiotron was integral to L.A.'s nascent hip-hop scene in the early 1980s, proving a space for young artists to breakdance, MC and make art. Carmelo Alvarez made it happen.
The background: As New York City’s foundational hip-hop presence continued to develop, more people in Los Angeles started experimenting with electro-music, funk and R&B, and dance forms like popping and locking. The place to do it was Radio Club in MacArthur Park. It became a place for emerging artists to bring what they saw from the East Coast to the West — and apply their own L.A. spin. Ice-T was the MC. Madonna would hang out to check out the trends.
Then enter a dancer from MacArthur Park named Carmelo Alvarez, who transformed the club into the space known as Radiotron — where kids could go after school to breakdance and work on their art.
When 12-year-old Wilber “Wilpower” Urbina saw two kids breakdancing for the first time in MacArthur Park back in 1982, he knew he had to get involved.
“It was the coolest thing I had ever seen, but I didn't know what it was because I had never seen it before,” Urbina recalls. “The music sounded very strange, but interesting. From then on, I was just trying to copy the moves that the kids were doing.”
About a year later, Urbina heard from other kids about a new place across the street from MacArthur Park where kids could breakdance for hours for less than 75 cents.
It was called the Youth Break Center, Inc. or better known as Radiotron.
The first Radiotron graphic painted for the 1984 movie Breakin'
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Carmelo Alvarez
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Carmelo Alvarez
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A space for LA’s nascent hip-hop scene
Before Radiotron opened itself to neighborhood youth, it was an avant garde, underground space called Radio Club. In Jonathan Abrams’ The Come Up: An Oral History of the Rise of Hip-Hop, rapper and actor Ice-T recalls Radio Club originally being a punk rock space where people would get on stage and practice their new work. Then the owner started bringing in hip-hop artists from the East Coast.
As New York City’s foundational hip-hop presence continued to develop, more people started experimenting with electro-music, funk and R&B as well as dance forms like popping and locking in Los Angeles. Radio Club became integral to that new movement in the city. It became a place for emerging artists to bring what they saw from the East Coast to the West.
LA Bazar Girl and DJ Antron were regulars at Radiotron
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Carmelo Alvarez
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Carmelo Alvarez
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At the same time, these culture innovators were mixing the East Coast style with the West Coast environment, aesthetics and attitudes, says Jonathan Calvillo, a sociology professor at Emory University, and author of the forthcoming book In The Time of Sky Rhyming: How Hip Hop Resonated In Brown Los Angeles.
Calvillo says when the owners brought in Ice-T as an emcee at Radio Club, it solidified the spot as a hip-hop space, and ushered in more people of color.
Before he was the original gangster rapper and before he became Detective Odafin Tutuola on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Ice-T appeared in early 1980s L.A. breakdancing films as an emcee and dancer — the documentary 'Breakin ‘n’ Enterin’ and the now classic movies Breakin’ and Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo, which were all set in Radio Club.
“Ice-T brought in more local street credibility,” Calvillo says.
Kurtis Blow and Kid Frost also visited Radio. DJ Chris “The Glove” Taylor, who frequently deejayed there, wrote about how Michael Jackson recruited some of his dancers for Thriller from Radio. It was a place where even celebrities like Madonna would go to check out the latest trends.
Then in 1983, Carmelo Alvarez, a young Mexican American dancer who had dreams of opening up a performance arts center in his childhood neighborhood of MacArthur Park, decided to rent out office space from the owner of the building Radio occupied. As Alvarez tells it, the owner then asked him to manage the building. It was his opportunity to create that performance space for kids.
Radiotron begins
Alvarez was raised in the MacArthur Park area where he was influenced by gangs. He recalls an art teacher pushing him to try out dancing at the Barnsdall Art Center and Junior Arts Center. There he met veteran artistic director and choreographer Chester Whitmore, who invited Alvarez to be in his tap troupe. He was also a part of the L.A. Inner City Cultural Center and toured with Lula Washington in a dance company.
He recalls seeing breakdancing in New York City in 1980 as a pivotal time for him. “Hip-hop is the vehicle,” Alvarez explains. “The main important thing was the youth.”
Carmelo Alvarez, founder of historic hip hop youth center Radiotron, holds a photo of Radiotron in its former space near Park View and 7th in MacArthur Park.
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Brian Feinzimer
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LAist
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Alvarez says he originally had a whole other game plan for the youth center, but the kids had seen what was happening in Radio Club. The kids were itching to breakdance.
Radio was reborn into Radiotron in 1983 when the producers of Breakin’ approached Alvarez. They named the club in the movie “Radiotron'' and it stuck.
So did the art. The crew left behind the graffiti that was part of the film's set design. Alvarez thought it brought color and light to the space, so he kept it. “I said ‘no, no, no. Leave it alone’. Before that it was all dark and black,” Alvarez recalls.
Photograph caption dated July 5, 1985 reads, "Graffiti art decorates Radiotron's walls, adding to the atmosphere of this no-age-limit nightclub, where kids 6 on up can do their thing and prove their stuff till 3 in the morning."
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James Ruebsamen
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Herald Examiner Collection/ L.A. Public Library
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Tino Montelongo, then 18, of Fillmore's Radiotron Wizards break-dancing troupe dancing outside the Coliseum during the Olympics in the summer of 1984.
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Chris Gulker
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Herald Examiner Collection / L.A. Public Library
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A photo from June 1985 identifies the man spinning records at Radiotron as DJ Tony.
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James Ruebsamen
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Herald Examiner Collection / L.A. Public Library
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Then came the kids.
“So I get a knock on the door and it was a little kid and he said ‘Hey mister, can we break in there?’” Alvarez recalls. “And I said 'sure.’ And they said, ‘Hey! the man said we can break in there!’ And they called a bunch of kids together and they went in there and they started breakdancing.”
“It went from an after-hours nightclub to an after-school youth center,” Alvarez says.
Calvillo says when Radio Club did not agree to the conditions Carmelo requested, its managers moved the club to another location downtown.
A 'safe haven'
When Radiotron opened, it quickly became viewed as a safe space for kids; a place where young people could fully express themselves and stay away from drugs and gangs.
“Radiotron presented an opportunity for young people to experiment and learn from folks who have been expressing themselves through the hip-hop elements,” Calvillo says. “For a whole generation, early West Coast innovators were being acculturated into hip-hop culture at Radiotron.”
Lifelong breakdancer Wilber “Wilpower” Urbina was one of them.
“All the kids wanted to go to this place,” Urbina recalls. “They knew that you could see some of the best kids, and when you see kids who are more advanced than you are, that makes you get better, you get inspired.”
Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina as a kid circa 1984 Los Angeles
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Courtesy of Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina
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Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina
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He recalls Alvarez being kind and welcoming to all kids who wanted to do graffiti and breakdance at the center.
“He was kind of like a father figure,” Urbina says. “ Inbarriosor hoods, most people just grew up with just a mom. To see and hear a kind person say good things, that’s great. He didn’t want anything in return. He wants you to do good, to stay away from trouble. To do art. In this place, you could do graffiti, it was really a safe haven.”
The rise of L.A. hip-hop
Many people know about the day that hip-hop supposedly jumped off. Two teen siblings from the South Bronx — DJ Kool Herc and Cindy Campbell — held a back-to-school party in their neighborhood in 1973 and Herc tried something new on the turntables, dropping what many historians say was the first hip-hop beat. But there were other elements that came to define hip-hop.
It wasn’t just the MCing or DJing or the graffiti — it was also the movement, the breakdancing. While young people in New York were b-boying and doing more street dances on the floor, in L.A. and other California cities, Black and brown kids were creating more funk-style dance moves that were placed in a larger umbrella category called “breakin’."
Even before hip-hop took off, California was the place where both popping and locking were created by young people in the 1970s. For example, a 20-something-year-old Soul Train dancer named Don Campbell created locking, an early street dance that influenced breakdance moves in L.A., back in the funk era.
In MacArthur Park, young people from all different background were getting in on it.
“At the time, MacArthur Park was not a particularly safe place to be. But it was a place that was experiencing a lot of growth, a lot of movement, a lot of migration,” Calvillo says. “A lot of the early practitioners that were learning hip-hop culture, and experimenting and adapting it to their surroundings, many of them were Central American.”
The end comes too quickly
In Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo, the dancers team up together to do a benefit show to save their endangered community center.
Calvillo says the fictional story isn’t far from the truth.
“Much of the plotline of that story was based on what was happening with Radiotron,” Calvillo says. “The youth center was going to be closed, it was being threatened in terms of its location."
“He was kind of like a father figure. Inbarriosor hoods, most people just grew up with just a mom. To see and hear a kind person say good things, that’s great. He didn’t want anything in return. He wants you to do good, to stay away from trouble. To do art."
— Wilber "Wilpower" Urbina, breakdancer
Radiotron eventually closed in 1985 due in part to development. The building was torn down for the construction of the Park View Mall. According to news reports, the developers needed a parking lot — right where the Youth Break Center stood. Before that, Radiotron's weekend dances, which brought in revenue, were shut down for code violations. Doctors across the country started pointing out the dangers of breakdancing.
“Kids get hurt in football,” Alvarez says. “Kids get hurt playing on the playground. You don’t take the playground out. No, you go fix it. You tell them to be careful.” Alvarez and the Radiotron kids protested in front of City Hall to get the attention of city council members in order to keep the building but, Alvarez says, there was no luck. The building was lost. Radiotron was only in existence from 1983 to 1985.
Alvarez was heartbroken.
“I purposely had it underage, because the kids didn't have anything,” Alvarez says, reflecting on the importance of the youth center. “They were dancing in the street for money and they were getting tickets. And this is the era of crack and gangs and drive-bys. They needed something.”
Urbina said that after Radiotron closed there was nowhere else to go.
“Sometimes friends would invite us to go there to their lobby... but sometimes the lobby was small and it was carpet,” Urbina says. “So it was like ‘F---! We really miss Radiotron.’”
Alvarez says he’s opened a dozen youth centers since 1978, but it’s been hard to sustain them. The now 66-year-old Alvarez is retired and is working on a project called Community Action for Peace.
Radiotron’s lasting impact
Alvarez says there’s one major aspect of the Radiotron story that shouldn’t be missed:: just like there were kids that held a back-to-school party that launched hip-hop culture in the South Bronx, young people were also important in the hip-hop movement in L.A.
“Those kids were innovators,” he says. “They were the ones that created it.”
Radiotron launched the careers of a long list of dancers and artists. Alvarez says some of the graffiti artists he shepherded at Radiotron have had work featured in the Museum of Contemporary Art and in LACMA. He points out artists like Prime (who is known to be the founding father of stylized L.A. graffiti lettering), Shandu One and Zender, who all made names for themselves.
Carmelo Alvarez walks near a mural painted by fromer Radiotron memebr RETNA near Park View and 7th in MacArthur Park.
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Brian Feinzimer
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LAist
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Salvadoran American breakdancers like Urbina (aka Wilpower) and Cesar “Lil Cesar'' Rivas were a part of the trendsetting Air Force Crew, which was founded at Radiotron. After the youth center physically closed, Rivas helped Radiotron become a traveling dance competition. In the 1990s the Air Force Crew danced with Kurtis Blow, and became an inspiration for Korea’s b-boying scene.
“We don't often hear their stories in the same way as when folks talk about West Coast rappers because we think of the West Coast as mostly a movement of rappers,” Calvillo said. “But these are dancers that were actually going international.”
At 53, Urbina is still hungry for more. He wants to get the moves he had in his 20s and 30s. It’s hard work, but it’s fun. There’s just one caveat.
He’s not battling people anymore. He’s battling age.
Decades after Radiotron's closing, Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina, now in his 50s, still finds time to breakdance.
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Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina
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Wilber 'Wilpower' Urbina
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“You’re battling not getting injuries because breakdancing is very physical,” Urbina says. “Over 50, to be doing 20, 30, 40 headspins…it’s not so easy. I’m also a realist. There’s some moves where I’m like nah…my wrists aren’t the same any more.”
Inmates walk down a hallway at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego on Aug. 23, 2017.
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Gregory Bull
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AP Photo
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Topline:
The California Legislature passed a bill that would force disclosure of information about emergency calls at immigrant detention centers. A Democratic lawmaker put it forward after reading news stories in CalMatters.
Why it matters: Legislation that would improve public access to information about violence, medical emergencies, and other serious incidents in privately operated detention facilities in California is now heading to the governor’s desk. It would require local agencies to release audio and records of 911 calls and other emergency-service calls originating from the facilities upon request. State Sen. Lena Gonzalez, a Democrat from Long Beach, introduced Senate Bill 423 as state investigations and courts are finding serious gaps in essential medical care within the facilities.
The backstory: The bill was prompted by CalMatters reporting on alleged sexual assaults at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in 2025. CalMatters sought information, including 911 audio records and other reports, about alleged rapes and attempted sexual assaults at the facility through a California Public Records Act request. While a San Diego County sheriff’s spokesperson said the agency was not investigating those cases, he said he was unable to turn over additional records because they were part of “a law enforcement investigation.”
Read on... for more on the bill.
Legislation that would improve public access to information about violence, medical emergencies, and other serious incidents in privately operated detention facilities in California is now heading to the governor’s desk.
It would require local agencies to release audio and records of 911 calls and other emergency-service calls originating from the facilities upon request. State Sen. Lena Gonzalez, a Democrat from Long Beach, introduced Senate Bill 423 as state investigations and courts are finding serious gaps in essential medical care within the facilities.
“No private contract or detention center wall should be used to hide dangerous conditions or silence people who have been mistreated inside these facilities,” Gonzalez said in a statement.
The bill was prompted by CalMatters reporting on alleged sexual assaults at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in 2025. CalMatters sought information, including 911 audio records and other reports, about alleged rapes and attempted sexual assaults at the facility through a California Public Records Act request. While a San Diego County sheriff’s spokesperson said the agency was not investigating those cases, he said he was unable to turn over additional records because they were part of “a law enforcement investigation.”
“When journalists and reporters attempted to obtain records about reported incidents at these facilities through the Public Records Act, they faced severe pushback from law enforcement, citing vague investigatory records exemptions, despite there being no active investigation,” said Gonzalez before the state Senate vote on Monday afternoon.
“SB 423 would make disclosure mandatory for calls from private detention facilities unless it would substantially interfere with an active investigation being conducted by the agency receiving the request,” she added.
Gonzalez’s bill would require local agencies to turn over recordings and written records of 911 calls from privately run detention facilities, if a member of the public requests them. It includes an exception if an active investigation is underway and requires redacting the names of affected individuals.
The number of people being held by federal immigration authorities in Immigration and Customs Enforcement facilities in California has nearly doubled since early 2025, data shows. Between September 2025 and March 2026, there were six deaths at two of California’s private detention facilities.
The San Diego County Sheriff’s Office had a memorandum of understanding with CoreCivic, the private prison company that operates Otay Mesa. The agreement gave the detention center warden discretion of how to investigate alleged sexual assaults.
In May, the California Attorney General’s office released a 175-page report detailing how the dramatic surge in detainee populations strained conditions and access to medical care at immigration detention facilities across the state.
The San Diego County Sheriff’s Office told KQED it does not have a position on the bill. The Kern County Sheriff’s Department told the Bay Area news agency that it will continue to comply with California laws, “as we always do.”
A recent bill analysis by legislative staff showed no registered opposition to the bill.
The proposed legislation was co-sponsored by Immigrant Defense Advocates and the First Amendment Coalition. It was first introduced on June 12.
Paloma Esquivel, a former Los Angeles Times reporter who now works at the First Amendment Coalition, said county sheriffs resisted and stonewalled her requests for 911 records when she worked as a journalist.
“We have a very strong interest and even an obligation to understand how these facilities are functioning and what is happening inside these facilities that are being paid for with billions of dollars in taxpayer money,” Esquivel told KQED.
Jackie Gonzalez the co-executive director of the Immigrant Defense Advocates said the bill is an important first step in addressing what’s going on inside.
“By supporting SB 423, California sends a clear message that the walls of private detention facilities cannot hide the truth of what is taking place in these facilities,” said Gonzalez.
Flooding in Seal Beach Saturday afternoon. Heavy rains began Sunday.
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Courtesy Rhea Presiado
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Topline:
Up to an inch of rain is expected today across Los Angeles County from the effects of Hurricane Marie hundreds of miles away in the Pacific Ocean, according to the National Weather Service.
Street flooding: Roadway flooding was reported this morning on the westbound 134 at the 5 Freeway, near Glendale and Griffith Park.
Coastal Flooding: All weekend, forecasters have warned of dangerous rip currents and an elevated risk of coastal flooding.
Flooding was reported yesterday in Seal Beach and Long Beach.
"We have quite a few reports already of waves up to 10 feet on some beaches — Zuma Beach especially, where we've gotten reports [of] strong rip currents," said Todd Hall, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service.
What's next: Hall said to expect more showers across L.A. County today. Tomorrow, he said isolated rain is expected, mostly in the mountains.
Topline:
Up to an inch of rain is expected today (Sunday, Sept. 6) across Los Angeles County from the effects of Hurricane Marie hundreds of miles away in the Pacific Ocean, according to the National Weather Service.
Street flooding: Roadway flooding was reported this morning on the westbound 134 Freeway at the 5, near Glendale and Griffith Park.
Coastal Flooding: All weekend, forecasters have warned of dangerous rip currents and an elevated risk of coastal flooding.
Flooding was reported yesterday in Seal Beach and Long Beach.
"We have quite a few reports already of waves up to 10 feet on some beaches — Zuma Beach especially, where we've gotten reports [of] strong rip currents," said Todd Hall, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service.
Advisories and closures:
An ocean water quality rain advisory has been issued for all L.A. County beaches until Wednesday, Sept. 9 at 2 p.m. That means to avoid ocean water contact for at least 72 hours after the rain.
What's next: Hall said to expect more showers across L.A. County throughout Sunday. On Monday, he said isolated rain is expected, mostly in the mountains.
Keep up with LAist.
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Fiona Ng
is LAist's deputy managing editor and leads a team of reporters who explore food, culture, history, events and more.
Published September 6, 2026 7:08 AM
Firefighters assess the remains of the Lineage warehouse that burned for a week and sent smoke into nearby communities.
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Andrew Lopez
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Boyle Heights Beat
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Topline:
Final cleanup of the burned Boyle Heights warehouse was completed Saturday, according to Lineage Logistics and air quality officials.
Why it matters: On Aug. 29, Lineage removed an estimated 88 million pounds of rotting food waste from the site. It then faced a seven-day deadline to complete the final phase of cleanup, including debris removal, power washing and disinfecting of required areas.
What the company says: Lineage said workers have spent 210,000 hours on cleaning up the 491,000 square-foot site, which burned for about a week after igniting on July 7. The cost of cleanup, the company said, is more than $100 million.
Odor issues: Air quality officials from South Coast AQMD said odor complaints have fallen to fewer than 5 per day since food waste removal — instead of several hundred per day in July.
What's next: Lineage must continue to comply with an odor abatement order from South Coast AQMD, including sealing wastewater from the cleanup in a tank.
Lineage is also required to continue air monitoring around the warehouse.
The Bee Museum is inside the vintage store, Hive & Hanger, in Burbank.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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Topline:
Hive & Hanger in Burbank sells vintage clothes and antique jewelry. Inside, you'll also find a pop-up Bee Museum.
What? The owner is Carrie Diazzz, a vintage maven turned urban apiarist. She admits with a smile two extra Zs at the end of her real last name are a homage to her beloved bees.
The backstory: When the store opened in 2020, it was originally all-vintage. The museum was opened almost a year ago after Diazzz became fascinated with the honeybee.
A sign on the front door says “Beekeeper owned,” and inside the Hive & Hanger store in Burbank, the layout is a mix of vintage clothes, antique jewelry and something rather unexpected: a pop-up Bee Museum.
The owner is Carrie Diazzz, a vintage maven turned urban apiarist. She admits with a smile two extra Zs at the end of her real last name are a homage to her beloved bees.
When the store opened in 2020, it was originally all-vintage. “I was not looking to change careers,” she said, but after taking a two-hour beekeeping experience course, she was hooked.
Hive & Hangar in Burbank doubles as a bee museum.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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“I don’t like dirt, and I don't like bugs. I'm a heels and lipstick, nails, kind of person,” she said. “There's just something magical about the honeybee. The more you know, the more you want to know.”
That prompted her to pursue a bee master certification at UC Davis. She collaborated with Elina Niño at the university’s Bee Lab to curate information and research to bring her pop-up Bee Museum to life almost a year ago.
A crash course in bees
The Burbank Bee Museum.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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There’s a Bee 101 explainer by the front door, which shows the differences between bees and wasps, and fun touches like pop songs containing the word “Honey,” and a list of Noteworthy Beekeepers including Aristotle, Benjamin Franklin, Leo Tolstoy, Emily Dickinson, Angelina Jolie and Sherlock Holmes.
One long-standing myth is that honeybees are stingers. “People always ask me how often I get stung, but I don’t wear gloves, and I don’t use smoke, and it very rarely happens. And honeybees die after they sting, as opposed to wasps, who can sting repeatedly,” she said.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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Most arresting is a floor-to-ceiling collage series of framed model fruits, vegetables, nuts and berries, all of which the honeybee has a role in pollinating. Beside that is an exhibit on pesticides, one of the insect's biggest threats. Pieces of dried honeycomb are everywhere.
Diazzz has also been hosting school trips for the Boys & Girls Clubs. “I might be the only beekeeper they will ever meet,” she noted. The point is to give bees the respect they deserve. “Did you know that it takes 12 honeybees their entire lives to make one teaspoon of honey?”
Rescuing hives across Southern California
The Bee Museum serves up not just honey, but bee knowledge.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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There are no live bees in the store, but Diazzz has her own hives in Burbank.
“They are from rescues: I cut the hive out from a wall,” she explained. She takes care of hives from San Diego to Bel Air, with many in the San Fernando Valley, and a couple with a view of the Hollywood Sign. Her caretaking quests have taken her on skyscraper roofs, at apartment buildings and in parking lots.
Almost a year ago, she began her studies as a honey sommelier at the American Honey Tasting Society in Connecticut, where she learned about the science and experience of honey. Her future includes going off to Bologna, Italy, the world honey hub, for the final round of studies and tests at the Albo Nazionale degli Esperti in Analisi Sensoriale del Miele or the National Register of Experts in Sensory Analysis of Honey.
Carrie Diazzz, owner of the store and the museum, sells small jars of honey sourced locally and from her own hives.
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James Bartlett
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LAist
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“Nectar and honey are not the same thing,” she explained. “Nectar is the liquid sticky substance that bees collect from flowering plants and take back to the hive. They transform it into honey by dehydrating the moisture out of the nectar, and capping it over with wax.”
Diazzz recently held her first informal tasting experience at The Bee Museum, and has small batches of various local honeys for sale: cactus, sage, and honey from her own hives. “I usually leave the honey alone, and only take any extra they have made to sell,” she said, because bees use the honey as sustenance. Her favorite? “A toss-up between dandelion and sunflower. Orange blossom is delicious too, but very sweet.”
