The Brief

Billionaire entrepreneur Jared Isaacman's confirmation as the new head of NASA closes a turbulent chapter that began over a year ago.

The Senate voted 67-30 on Wednesday to confirm Isaacman along bipartisan lines. All 30 senators who voted against him were Democrats.

The 42-year-old e-commerce mogul has flown to space twice on private missions — both in partnership with Elon Musk's SpaceX — and in 2024 became the first civilian to walk in space. Isaacman has no federal government experience.

Isaacman was among President Donald Trump's first picks for his second administration: Trump announced his nomination in December 2024, well before his inauguration, and formalized it after taking office in January.

"Jared's passion for Space, astronaut experience, unlocking the mysteries of the universe, and advancing the new Space economy, make him ideally suited to lead NASA into a bold new Era," Trump wrote on Truth Social at the time.

Isaacman made it as far as a three-hour Senate subcommittee hearing in April, where he downplayed his connections to Musk but declined to answer when asked whether Musk was in the room when Trump offered him the role. Isaacman also expressed support for lunar and Mars missions, saying he believed NASA had the budget to do both.

While NASA is focused on its Artemis mission to return Americans to the moon for the first time since the early 1970s, the second Trump administration has concerned some with its seeming preoccupation with Mars exploration — a riskier and more divisive concept that just so happens to be a longtime dream of Trump's onetime ally, Musk.

But Isaacman didn't get the chance to answer questions about any of that in front of the full Senate, because Trump withdrew his nomination in late May — the same week Musk left his role in the administration.

Trump said the decision followed a "thorough review" of Isaacman's "prior associations," and later explicitly blamed his donations to Democratic causes. Public filings show that Isaacman has contributed to candidates and political action committees of both parties over the years, but since 2016 has supported more Democrats.

Isaacman has described himself as "relatively apolitical" and a "right-leaning moderate," and noted that his campaign donations were public long before Trump nominated him — suggesting that wasn't the only reason for the reversal. In June, Isaacman said being considered to lead NASA was "truly the honor of a lifetime."

"Even knowing the outcome, I would do it all over again," Isaacman wrote in a letter to investors.

And that's what ended up happening — only the second time, it worked.

Isaacman takes the helm at a turbulent time for NASA

In early November, Trump nominated Isaacman again, without acknowledging the turmoil that had unfolded along the way.

At his confirmation hearing in early December, Isaacman once again denied that his connections to Musk posed a conflict of interest. The nominee explained that his spaceflights were operated by SpaceX because the company is the only option for sending Americans to space since NASA retired its space shuttle program in 2011.

"In that respect, my relationship [to Musk] is no different than that of NASA," he said, adding that "there are no pictures of us at dinner, at a bar, on an airplane, or on a yacht because they don't exist."

Isaacman takes the helm of an agency that has been grappling with a lack of permanent leadership, downsizing, competitive pressure (particularly from China) and significant funding cuts — with threats of more to come.

The administration's 2026 budget proposes a historic 24% cut to overall NASA funding, which would slash its workforce by about a third and spell the end of 41 science projects.

In recent months, protesters have descended on Capitol Hill to lobby against the proposed budget cuts. Among them was beloved "Science Guy" Bill Nye, the CEO of the nonprofit Planetary Society, who also attended Isaacman's December hearing in a show of support for the nominee. The House and Senate both reject the deepest proposed cuts, but differ in how much funding they think its science budget should get.

A 62-page draft agenda named "Project Athena," which Isaacman defended after it leaked in May, offers clues as to how Isaacman seeks to run NASA: primarily, more like a business.

Its priorities include reorganization "aimed at reducing layers of bureaucracy," putting more astronauts in space more often, playing a larger role in certifying commercial space missions and partnering with industries like biotech and pharma to "figure out how to extract more value from space than we put in."

Jared Isaacman — pictured before he led the first all-civilian spaceflight in 2021 — has worked closely with Elon Musk's company SpaceX.

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Isaacman's background is in e-commerce and private spaceflight

Isaacman traces his interest in space back to his childhood, when he was inspired by a picture book in his school library.

"I told my kindergarten teacher I was going to go to space someday," he recalled in 2021.

But first, he made it as an entrepreneur. He founded the payment processing firm now known as Shift4 Payments as a teenager out of his parents' New Jersey basement in 1991. The company, which went public in 2020, says it processes payments for 1 in 3 restaurants and 40% of hotels across the U.S.

Isaacman dropped out of high school to pursue his business, but later earned his GED and a bachelor's degree in aeronautics from Embry‑Riddle Aeronautical University. He is a licensed pilot with over 7,000 flight hours, according to his Polaris bio.

He also co-founded a civilian aerobatic display team called the Black Diamond Jet Team, as well as Draken International, which provides tactical fighter aircraft to customers including the military and defense industries. He sold a majority share of it to the investment firm Blackstone Group in 2019 for a reported nine-figure sum.

Forbes values Isaacman's current net worth at $1.2 billion. That fortune has allowed him to pursue his astronaut ambitions, as well as support STEM-related causes (he and his wife have pledged to donate the majority of their wealth to charity).

Isaacman funded and commanded the first all-civilian orbital flight in 2021 — which raised over $240 million for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital — as well as the 2024 Polaris Dawn mission, in which he and crewmate Sarah Gillis became the first civilians to conduct a spacewalk.

Upon his return, Isaacman told NPR's All Things Considered that while Earth looked beautiful from afar, "looking out into the darkness of space, it was a very unwelcoming feeling that this is a threatening environment for humans."

"We certainly didn't evolve to be here, and if we want to be here, we're going to have to work really hard in order to kind of open up this last frontier," he added. "That was kind of one of the big takeaways I had."
Copyright 2025 NPR

For the last three years, the record store and music venue Healing Force of the Universe has been operating on a sleepy street corner not far from Pasadena City College. Nearby businesses include a shoe repair store, a nail salon and several auto shops.

“We're kind of in a dead corner,” owner Austin Manuel said. “No offense if anybody lives here, but not a very foot-trafficked area, kind of a hard place to have a store.”

In spite of the location, Manuel said Healing Force has become a home away from home for musicians and music fans. One of them is Bobby Bradford, a jazz trumpet legend who lost his house and personal archive in the Eaton Fire. He performs regularly at the venue. (Healing Force has also partnered with LAist on fire recovery events.)

Its current location is set to close this month, but Manuel and his team are already raising funds to cover a move to another space: G-Son Studios in Atwater Village. The repurposed ballroom was the Beastie Boys' home base when they recorded their classic albums Check Your Head and Ill Communication. Run-DMC and Biz Markie stopped by at one point, and Beck also laid down tracks for his album Odelay there.

Inside Healing Force's space in Pasadena.

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The vibe

Healing Force sells records, of course, but these days it’s more of a nighttime performance space. Manuel said he wants people to feel comfortable striking up conversations after a show.

“I grew up in the church in the South, and I was like, ‘How do I design this so that it feels like a Southern church lady could come in here and feel welcome?’" Manuel said. “ I didn't want it to be too cool.  I wanted it to feel kind of suburban in a way.”

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Though the name might call to mind a cult slogan — and Manuel said they lean into that aesthetic on purpose — it’s actually a reference to the 1970 album Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe by saxophonist Albert Ayler.

At the venue, “people can kind of get … into a meditative zone,” Manuel said. “After the [January 2025] fires, it felt so good to come back together in this room and feel the healing of community.”

Healing Force's stage setup.

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The performances

The shows Healing Force puts on share a common thread: They’re meant to promote peace and relaxation, as well as deep, careful listening on the hi-fi sound system. But they’re an eclectic mix of genres. On one night, you might see L.A. spiritual jazz band Phi-Psonics, who turned a residency at the venue into a live album, Expanding to One.

On another night, you might catch a spaced-out electronic set, an up-and-coming singer-songwriter or a group of session musicians who’ve played with the likes of Paul Simon, Elton John and Lucinda Williams.

About the fundraiser

With the new space on Glendale Boulevard, Manuel said, Healing Force would triple its capacity for concerts, get a bar space and be closer to other venues in Northeast L.A.

“If 1,000 people gave $25, we would get there,” Manuel said – though he also said most people have been giving more.

You can read more about the fundraiser and donate at Healing Force’s GoFundMe.

See the Pasadena space before it closes

The venue is still open at 1200 E. Walnut Street and is holding events through this Halloween weekend. You can see their events calendar on their website.

The racist DNA of Jim Crow discrimination may be embedded in your housing documents.

The language in housing documents that restricts sale or use of a property only to a person of the white race is called a “restrictive covenant,” and in California the practice goes back to the 19th century and continued into the mid-20th century. While housing discrimination persists, the practice was found unconstitutional in 1948.

California counties are reporting mixed progress in meeting the demands of a 2021 law to excise the language from property records.

According to Sylvia Manzo, deputy recorder in the Orange County Clerk-Recorder’s office, the county finished the job in March of this year, removing racist language from more than 27,000 property documents with the help of computer software.

This 1924 property document from Bakersfield includes racist language limiting use of the property in question to people of "the white or Caucasian race."

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L.A. County is far from done. It says that with the help of an outside company hired in 2024, 50 million pages will be examined yearly, which would take about 10 years to finish the job.

Public agencies could use the public’s help.

Language examples

Here’s a 1924 example from a property in Bakersfield. The text reads, “That the lands herein conveyed shall never, at any time, be sold to or rented to or occupied by any person not of the white or Caucasian race.”

Or this language from a 1936 document relating to a Costa Mesa property: “That said premises shall not be sold, conveyed, rented, or leased to, or occupied by any person of African, Mexican, or Asiatic descent.”

How to get it taken out

The Restrictive Covenant Modification Form is at the heart of the effort to remove the racist language from housing documents. Each county has its own process. Some charge a fee; others don’t. Some require a notary certification for the signature; others don’t.

L.A. County:

Registrar-Recorder officials recommend these steps:

• Highlight or underline the unlawful provision on the recorded document
• Complete the Restrictive Covenant Modification Form
• Submit the form and the recorded document by email: RCM@rrcc.lacounty.gov or in person at the Norwalk headquarters at 12400 Imperial Highway in Norwalk
• Mail instructions are here.

Orange County:

The Orange County spokesperson says there may be some properties not caught by its software and urges the public to report them. Here’s the form

Riverside County:

Here’s the Riverside County form

San Bernardino County:

Here’s the San Bernardino County form

San Diego County:

Here’s the San Diego County form

Santa Barbara County:

Here’s the Santa Barbara County form

Ignoring the racist language in property documents, some say, reinforces the legacy of segregation, while taking steps to remove restrictive covenant language is a way individuals and organizations can repudiate policies that sought to discriminate.