Topline:
Journalist Hadley Meares had written about the extensive haunted history at the Biltmore Hotel, the famed DTLA spot which hosted the Oscars and is renowned for the Black Dahlia unsolved murder case. But then she stayed overnight — and experienced a spooky close encounter with a ghost herself.
Clutch the covers closer: It's Halloween time, and we love our L.A. ghost stories.
Convinced yet? Everyone's a skeptic ... until a strange spirit takes over their body at 3 a.m.
It was a dark and stormy night in downtown Los Angeles. Remember those rains which came down for months earlier this year, turning L.A. from the land of sunshine into a grey city of slippery sludge? Well, that’s when my parents came to visit me in Los Angeles from their home in North Carolina. They have visited me many times in the past 20 years, but this time was special — instead of renting an Airbnb, they were staying in a suite in downtown’s legendary Millennium Biltmore.
How lovely it was to find respite in the Biltmore, with its gilded, if slightly faded glamour, after another day of tourism ruined by the rain. We are a family of history buffs, so to know we were walking the halls of a century-old hotel which hosted the Oscars, political conventions, and — my personal favorite — the high society fashion shows produced by the eccentric Peggy Hamilton — what a thrill!
I have a long history with the Biltmore. As a historical journalist, I have written about it for years, and of course, I am fascinated by the legends of ghosts and ghouls that supposedly haunt its halls. A ghostly little boy has been seen on the 10th floor, while another boy, this one without a face, haunts the roof. There is a little girl on the ninth floor, and a nurse on the second. On a tour of the property, a hotel employee told me that his own beliefs had been shaken by the number of employees who had strange otherworldly encounters.
I know all about Elizabeth Short, aka the Black Dahlia, L.A.’s most infamous murder victim, who disappeared from the hotel lobby to her doom. On the night of Jan. 9, 1947, around 6:30 p.m., the immaculately dressed Short allegedly entered the Biltmore’s lobby, escorted by an anxious man with red hair. After he left, Short spent the next few hours restless and nervous, repeatedly asking the hotel clerk if she had any messages, and making calls in the phone booth.
Others in the lobby became fascinated with the striking woman in the pristine white gloves, who looked so desperate and alone. Short paced, made more phone calls. But the hours passed. Finally, she appeared to get in touch with someone on the phone. Suddenly her mood noticeably lifted.
Bell captain Harold Studholme reported that a little after 10 p.m., a person on Olive Street motioned to Short for her to follow them through the lobby windows. She walked confidently out the lobby doors and disappeared into the night.
The Black Dahlia: The Murder of Elizabeth Short pic.twitter.com/zVZ6wYcSD8
— spooky threadz (@threadsbymads) October 30, 2018
On Jan. 15, Short’s body was found in a vacant lot in Leimert Park. She had been bisected and drained of blood, a sinister smile carved into her face. To this day, her case remains unsolved.
For years, there have been reports that Short’s tortured spirit haunts the 10th and 11th floors and rides the elevators, staring straight ahead. According to historian Janice Oberding, Short’s ghost — as beautiful as ever, with luscious dark hair — never greets or even notices any mortal who crosses her path. She seems preoccupied, on edge, forever waiting for the mysterious person who perhaps caused her death.
So yes, I knew all the stories. But did I believe in this paranormal activity? Not really, but I would never be arrogant enough to claim I knew one way or another. I have made a career exploring mysterious, often creepy places, but it’s been more from an anthropological point of view. My true interest in ghost stories has always been what they tell us about the places, people, and times from which the legend sprang. Cold, hard history —- and facts — could explain it all away!
All that would change that night at the Biltmore. Exhausted after a day of driving with my parents in the rain, I was happy to spend a cozy night with them in their suite. The dated suite wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it was huge, with a sitting area, two beds, and large windows with views of a soggy Pershing Square. After a night of watching college basketball on the room’s TV while eating Subway sandwiches, we all turned in around eleven.
I went to sleep easily, my parents snoring lightly in the bed next to me. Then all of the sudden — I was awake. The room was dark and silent, save the rain pattering on the window. Yet I could barely hear the rain due to the thoughts that were loudly rushing through my head. But instead of my usual middle-of-the-night thoughts — about my schedule the next day, or the appointment I had forgotten to make — they were thoughts I had never had in my life.
To my horror I realized something was very wrong. The voice, cadence and vocabulary were not my own. It felt like I had been inhabited by an angry, vengeful, man from another time and place. When I think of the voice now, I see a sweating, haggard middle-aged man from the 1940s, hunched at a hotel bar spewing disgusting vulgarities, his humanity blotted out by his rage.
The thoughts came through me at a rapid pace. They were strange, hateful and violent thoughts. I tried to rouse myself, to “wake up.” I tried to sit up. But I couldn’t move. I felt as though two forearms were pressing against my chest, like a shiny face was breathing over me, dripping spit and sweat on my cheeks. It felt as if the entity was taking me over. I didn’t know what to do. I have experienced sleep paralysis before, but it wasn’t that. It was terrifying. I was out of control. I WASN’T ME.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the television in the hotel suite turned on, and instead of angry, incomprehensible words, a chatty, suave announcer was soothingly recapping basketball games on ESPN. The terror ended. I was myself again.
I opened my eyes, and saw both of my parents sitting straight up in their bed. “Did you turn on the TV?” we all asked each other.
No one had. It was 3a.m. “That’s so freaky!” my mother said. Then she chuckled — “Maybe it was a ghost!.” I was not laughing, and was now even more fearful — who the hell had turned the TV on? My dad got out of bed to turn off the TV, and then climbed back into bed. I wanted to say something more, but I resolved to attempt to forget it and go to sleep. I was exhausted, and felt as if I had just been engaged in a monumental fight.
I fell asleep quickly, but kept waking up periodically through the night, waiting for the TV to turn on again. In the morning I was shaken and confused. I remembered the violent rush of words, the terrifying feeling of pressure on my chest — but weirdly I could not recall anything specific the voice that inhabited me had said. To this day, I still can’t.
As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to remember what the spirit had said, my mother hummed as she opened the heavy blackout curtains in the room. The sun was hazy and cloudy over Pershing Square, and the room felt once again like a normal hotel room. After a much needed cup of coffee and a day-old croissant, I told my parents what had happened. “I am never staying there again!” I said emphatically.
That next night, I stayed at my apartment in the Arts District, undisturbed by dreams or nightmares. I simply forced myself to put the night before out of my mind. I’ve always been a pro at conveniently forgetting things.
When I went to pick up my parents in the morning for another sodden museum day, they had news for me. The TV had turned on again at 3 a.m. It would turn on in the dead of night for the rest of their stay. They messed around with the TV, but could not discover any timer that had been set. Being the tight-lipped Southerners they are, they never complained to the Biltmore or told them what had happened. Neither did I.
After my parents went back to North Carolina, I decided to put my historical detective skill to good use. I pored over notes, books and blog posts, trying to figure out which of the alleged paranormal spirits of the Biltmore could have visited me. But none of the known ghosts of the Biltmore seem as malevolent, as evil, or as chaotic as what seemed to enter me that night.
Could it have been the spirit of the nervous red-headed man, who escorted Elizabeth Short into the lobby of the Biltmore that winter night of 1947? The unknown person who motioned her out of the lobby? A murderous traveling salesman, or a slighted mobster, a traitorous politician, who checked into the Biltmore many moons ago, and whose spirit never left?
I don’t think I will ever know. The Biltmore has given Los Angeles many gifts in the past century. To this cynical reporter, it’s given me a new perspective and a new healthy fear of things that go bump in the night. I now empathize more with those who say they have experienced the paranormal, and am not as quick to look to the logical to explain their experiences away. There are things all the research in the world can’t explain. And nowhere in L.A. is that truer than at the Biltmore Hotel.
Topline:
In the face of the nation’s highest gas prices, California lawmakers approved a bill to ease restrictions on E85 conversion kits — devices that let conventional gasoline cars run on a cheaper, mostly ethanol fuel blend.
Background: The measure is the latest example of Sacramento lawmakers scrambling to respond to gas costs that have soared amidst the Iran-Israel war, which has rattled global oil markets and pushed California pump prices above $6 a gallon. It now heads to the California state Senate and would need Gov. Gavin Newsom’s approval before it becomes law.
What supporters say: “Californians consistently pay more at the pump than drivers from other states, and gas prices are once again climbing across the state,” Assemblymember Rhodesia Ransom said Thursday. “For commuters and working families, [the proposal] offers a practical way to save money.”
What critics say: Environmentally, the fuel is rated cleaner than regular gasoline by California’s Low Carbon Fuel Standard. But that rating has critics. Aaron Smith, a Berkeley economist, said the benefits of ethanol are likely overstated. Official numbers likely understate emissions from land use as rising corn demand for ethanol pushes farmers to clear forested land.
Read on ... for more on the push to offer ethanol as an alternative fuel.
This story was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.
In the face of the nation's highest gas prices, California lawmakers approved a bill to ease restrictions on E85 conversion kits — devices that let conventional gasoline cars run on a cheaper, mostly ethanol fuel blend.
Assembly Bill 2046, dubbed the “Access to Affordable Gas Act” by its author, Assemblymember Rhodesia Ransom, a Stockton Democrat, advanced through the Assembly on a 59-0 vote with no debate or opposition.
The measure is the latest example of Sacramento lawmakers scrambling to respond to gas costs that have soared amid the Iran-Israel war, which has rattled global oil markets and pushed California pump prices above $6 a gallon. It now heads to the California state Senate and would need Gov. Gavin Newsom’s approval before it becomes law.
“Californians consistently pay more at the pump than drivers from other states, and gas prices are once again climbing across the state,” Ransom said on the Assembly floor Thursday. “For commuters and working families, [the proposal] offers a practical way to save money.”
If approved in its current form, the measure would exempt manufacturers of E85 converter kits from an approval process by the state’s primary climate regulator, the California Air Resources Board, which requires companies to demonstrate the devices do not increase a vehicle's emissions. The bill would leave in place a separate federal certification process run by the Environmental Protection Agency.
“Members in Sacramento are looking for ways to try to reduce costs — or appear to reduce costs of driving — and so this is a way to do that,” said Aaron Smith, a UC Berkeley economist and fuels expert.
The converter kits, which cost between $800 to $1,250, according to a legislative analysis of the bill, would let drivers convert their cars to run on both gasoline and E85 fuel.
E85 is a blend of up to 85% ethanol and 15% gasoline; the share of ethanol typically is between 55% and 85%, said Smith, the Berkeley expert.
Jeff Wilkerson, government affairs manager for Pearson Fuels, the largest E85 fuel provider in the state and a bill supporter, said E85 — much of which is made from Midwest corn — is largely insulated from overseas oil shocks that drive California gas prices. The ethanol blend has sold for $2 or more less per gallon than gasoline during recent price spikes.
While E85 is typically priced lower than gasoline and can reduce petroleum dependence and carbon emissions, it delivers 20% to 30% fewer miles per gallon, according to the air board, meaning drivers only save money when E85 is priced at least 20% to 30% below gasoline.
About 1.3 million vehicles in California can currently use the fuel, which is sold at about 640 stations statewide — just 3% of the state’s more than 15,000 fuel pumps, according to the bill analysis.
Ransom said more E85 pumps would be built if the state loosened restrictions and encouraged demand for the fuel blend. She stressed that her bill would present E85 as an alternative.
“For some people, it may not be a wise choice, but at least now it’s going to be a choice,” she said.
Environmentally, the fuel is rated cleaner than regular gasoline by California's Low Carbon Fuel Standard. But that rating has critics. Smith, the Berkeley economist, said the benefits of ethanol are likely overstated. Official numbers likely understate emissions from land use as rising corn demand for ethanol pushes farmers to clear forested land.
The state’s own certification record offers a cautionary tale. Lindsay Buckley, a spokesperson for the board, said the agency has received only five applications from companies for E85 conversion kits since 2008 and that none has cleared the certification process, which is designed to ensure modified vehicles still meet their original emissions standards. Supporters of the proposal argue the board moves slowly and its regulations are burdensome.
But loosening that standard carries its own risk, cautioned Aaron Kurz, senior consultant on the Assembly Transportation Committee, especially now.
As the federal government has stripped scientific expertise from regulatory decisions, he wrote in his analysis, “this committee should consider if the state should cede authority over an inherently scientific process and set a precedent for transferring approval authority to the federal government.”
Topline:
Google this week announced significant changes to its search box — that austere, single-line input field on its homepage that has been the world's most popular entry point into the web for around two-and-a-half decades.
What's the big shift? Behind the scenes, a bigger shift is under way. Google is merging artificial intelligence and traditional web search in a move that Liz Reid, who oversees search at Google, said brings "the best of web and the best of AI together."
What are critics saying? Critics say folding AI deeper into search risks further muddying the waters around the provenance of information gleaned from the web, and could take agency away from users. A chatbot is likely to return a summary with only a few links to further information, unlike a web search that returns many pages of links.
Read on ... for more on what this shift means for Google users.
MOUNTAIN VIEW – Google is changing what it means to Google.
The company this week announced significant changes to its search box — that austere, single-line input field on its homepage that has been the world's most popular entry point into the web for around two-and-a-half decades.
The new version looks similar to the old one-line text box, but it's dynamic, expanding with longer queries. Users can also drop videos, pictures and files into it for what Google calls "multimodal" search.
Behind the scenes, a bigger shift is under way. Google is merging artificial intelligence and traditional web search in a move that Liz Reid, who oversees search at Google, said brings "the best of web and the best of AI together."
Critics say folding AI deeper into search risks further muddying the waters around the provenance of information gleaned from the web and could take agency away from users. A chatbot is likely to return a summary with only a few links to further information, unlike a web search that returns many pages of links.
But the shift is, in some ways, not surprising, given Silicon Valley's hard pivot toward AI, with Google and others investing billions in the technology and refocusing corporate strategies around it.
For about a year, Google has put "AI Overviews" — short summaries — at the top of some search results. "What we've seen with AI Overviews is that people don't want either just an AI or the web. They want a mix of both," said Reid.
She said she's noticed that users have started to ask longer questions, with more natural language, rather than fragments or key words. "They're asking the question that they really have," Reid said.
For Google, that potentially unlocks new understandings of user intentions. "If you start using more natural language, if you're having a conversation, when you've shifted from researching into buying, you've sort of indicated that. And so we can put better ads because we understand what that is," Reid said.
Google is also introducing agentic functionality to search, so that users can ask it to do tasks over time — like search for theater tickets at regular intervals or send shoppers a notification when something goes on sale or conduct a weekly scan of the internet for local events.
Carolina Milanesi, an independent technology analyst, said Google is trying to make its cash cow business — search — richer and more personalized, and it will make shopping easier. But there is a risk that users may have fewer choices about what to click.
"Right now it's: I ask a question, I get a bunch of answers and I feel that I'm in control as to which answer I take, or if I'm looking for something, which product I'm going to end up buying. That is going to be less so going forward," she said.
Milanesi envisions AI-enabled search and agents proposing products to consumers — perhaps even those they have requested — but with less clarity or choice around where it's coming from.
"If you're going to say: 'I want a pair of Jordans, go find them,' you're not necessarily sure what steps have been taken and whether the AI has used a source or a store that was paid for and, therefore, came up in the search results," she said, "or if AI actually went and did their due diligence and picked the best for me as a customer."
Sarah T. Roberts, director of the Center for Critical Internet Inquiry at UCLA, said the algorithmic underpinnings of Google's web search results have long been "by design, inscrutable to end users," and there's more to it than simply the best of the web floating to the top of any given search. Adding AI will only make the system more opaque, she said.
"What's happening now with AI is that that complexity that already existed will be further obfuscated and even more difficult to unpack," she said.
She noted episodes where Google's AI has provided bad results, including advising putting glue in pizza and eating rocks. "Those gaffes shouldn't be forgotten as Google makes this transition," she said.
And critics say that driving more Google users from web searches to interacting with AI will exacerbate the risks of the so-called "Google Zero" scenario, where the growth of AI queries kills off web search and suffocates the internet click economy as we know it. That includes online shops, web advertisers and news organizations that all depend on referred traffic from Google.
While the redesigned box will be the same for all Google users, there are various tricks and tips online for people who want to disable or avoid some AI functions when using Google.
Google is a financial supporter of NPR.
Topline:
Early every Saturday for the last three and a half years, William Campbell, 61, leaves his Silver Lake home to be at the Angels Flight station for the first ride at 6:45 a.m.
Why it matters: Campbell is one of a team of operators behind the proverbial wheel of the two near-identical funiculars — named Olivet and Sinai — that go up and down a 33% angle slope from Hill Street to Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles.
The backstory: Campbell is also a superfan and has been researching the Bunker Hill funicular's 124-year history.
Early every Saturday for the last three and a half years, William Campbell, 61, leaves his Silver Lake home to be at the Angels Flight station for the first ride at 6:45 a.m.
Campbell is one of a team of operators behind the proverbial wheel of the two near-identical funiculars — named Olivet and Sinai — that go up and down a 33% angle slope from Hill Street to Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles.
“You’re a part of living history,” said Campbell, who is dressed in an orange and black waistcoat and bow tie, and wears a bowler hat with a monarch butterfly on top. There’s a reason for that, he said mysteriously.
Today, I am the first rider. Soon after, I am joined by a family visiting from Texas.
“I was just looking at a local tourist place, and I just saw this small, cute railway,” said Michael Nguyen, who was alongside his mother and sister. “I was like, oh, this looks interesting. And I saw that you can actually go on it. I was like, OK, that’s pretty dope.”
Masterminded by lawyer, politician and engineer Col. James Ward Eddy, the Angels Flight “hillevator” opened on New Year’s Eve 1901 as a way for people to travel up and down Bunker Hill, which was then the place where the city’s wealthy population lived.
The journey took them down to the streets and stores below and from 1917, Grand Central Market, with the first passengers paying just a penny fare for what was billed as the “shortest railway in America,” traveling just 298 feet.
When he’s not working his weekday full-time day job investigating animal cruelty and abuse, Campbell spends his spare time looking through online newspaper archives for any information about Angels Flight.
Originally located by the 3rd Street Tunnel — at the end of the block from where it is now — the train has been through several changes, as has Bunker Hill itself.
“All the wealthy people moved to Beverly Hills, and Brentwood, and Bel Air, and beyond. And all their wonderful Victorian mansions were turned into boarding houses, and it attracted a lower income, more diverse population, which resulted in blight and crime — at least according to the city,” Campbell said of Bunker Hill's transformation.
City officials authorized Bunker Hill to be all but razed in the 1950s and '60s, and Angels Flight was put into what was promised to be temporary storage for a year or two, despite protests from singer Peggy Lee and others.
Angels Flight Railway
351 S. Hill St., Los Angeles
Daily, 6:45 a.m. to 10 p.m.
A round-trip ticket is $3, which is orange and has a souvenir portion. A one-way trip is $1.75 or $1 for TAP cardholders.
William Campbell works there every Saturday and will happily talk to you if he can.
You can find out more about Campbell's wildlife interests and win a prize in Angels Flight quizzes via Instagram.
The year was 1969. And it took nearly three decades for its return. Angels Flight welcomed passengers again in 1996 to its current location after test runs were made with cases of beer and soft drinks weighing 9,000 pounds. The cable cars were rebuilt exactly as before, but with modern safety requirements, such as Sinai having wheelchair space.
A 2001 accident in which one person died and seven were injured saw another long closure until 2010, and there was a derailment in 2014, which saw another short shuttering. But Angels Flight has been running ever since 2017, save the odd mechanical problem.
Campbell describes himself as a cheerleader for Angels Flight, and you can easily see why. During his shift he pins up a 1904 photo of the city’s landscape taken from an 80-foot-high observation tower at the original location, so people can compare it to the skyscraper skyline of today.
“At one time you could see all the way to Catalina,” he noted.
There is also a display about near-forgotten Bunker Hill folk artist Marcel Cavalla, and Campbell gives away Angels Flight bookmarks, stickers and maps, all of which he researches, designs and prints out of his own pocket.
One of his projects, old advertisements from 1901 to the 1940s, is displayed in the panels above the seats, and was installed a couple of months ago.
There's everything from old Market Basket supermarket ads, to Barbara Stanwyck shilling for Lux toilet soap, to a standard power mower from John Bean manufacturing, to one for the Catalina Carrier Pigeon Service, which operated from 1894 to 1902, taking messages from Avalon to Bunker Hill.
And the monarch butterfly on his hat? That’s related to his Angels Flight “holy grail,” the one question he can’t definitively answer: why were they painted orange and black?
With that, Campbell grabs his binoculars and sees there are passengers waiting for a ride up, so I get into Olivet and wave goodbye as I travel down to Hill Street.
Topline:
A new group called Neighbors Helping Neighbors has been helping Eaton Fire survivors clear burnt lots of overgrown weeds.
Why now: The volunteering effort is not just to tidy things up – but to clear lots of fire fuels as the region enters fire season.
Backstory: The group is founded by Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, who grew up in Altadena and whose parents and sister all lost homes in the fire.
Read on ... to learn more about the group and how you can help.
A group called Neighbors Helping Neighbors has been clearing overgrown weeds for free on fire survivors' empty lots in Altadena.
They’ve finished 10 with many more to go. They’re keeping at it not just to keep things tidy, but to avert another disaster as the region enters fire season — and their efforts are spreading. More than 200 homeowners have signed up, after hearing about the group from its Facebook page and through word of mouth.
“I'm 5 feet 2 inches tall, but there were weeds 6 and 8 feet tall,” said Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, the ringleader. She is also a co-founder of Altadena Talks Foundation, a nonprofit started in the wake of the Eaton Fire.
Bailey-Raines lives in San Dimas but grew up in Altadena. Her parents and sister all lost their homes in the Eaton Fire.
“I went to my parents' lot one day,” she said. “I loaded up the back of my car with my lawnmower, my blower, my rake, because I wanted to make sure their lot was cleaned up.”
It took seven hours, but she figured all that overgrown vegetation can't be good for Altadena with the fire season just around the corner.
And just like that, the idea for Neighbors Helping Neighbors was born.
The very first lot, just south in Pasadena, was cleared in mid-April. Bailey-Raines said the property was getting notices from the city to clear the lot or face escalating fines. Pasadena conducts brush clearance inspections every spring and summer.
Toni said the family had moved to Mississippi after the Eaton Fire.
“You lost everything, and then somebody's gonna tell you they're gonna give you a fine because you have weeds on your lot and you're not even here to see that?” Bailey-Raines said.
That day, she rounded up a group of nine people, including her son and his friend. A neighbor across the street was suspicious at first, but eventually told her, "You have me for about an hour." He stayed for two.
The job took less than four hours.
On May 13, dozens of volunteers showed up in Altadena to clear seven lots in one morning.
One of them — a 14,000-square-foot lot — belongs to Sarkis Aleksanian and his family. He had reached out to Bailey-Raines in late April, after learning about the group from a neighborhood WhatsApp chat.
“I was looking into cleaning up the lot and really daunted by the prospect,” he said. “I was worried that the lawn would dry up and be a problem.”
Aleksanian and his wife were on hand to help out. It’s the one thing that Bailey-Raines requires — for the homeowners to be there.
“I've asked them that if they're able-bodied to be here and help,” she said. “You're here. You're encouraging people, and you're helping on your lot. [Sarkis] was doing everything from weed-eater, to chainsaw, to whatever, and that's what it's about.”
“It was just remarkable, I tell you,” Aleksanian said. He said he recognized some of the volunteers that morning — folks he sees in the community.
And he did encounter someone he knew — a high school acquaintance from years back. “It's neighbors helping neighbors, just like she called it, you know?” Aleksanian said.
His lot was finished in 90 minutes.
With a growing waitlist, what is needed are people and equipment — from gloves and trash bags to the hardware.
“I have six brush cutters and two chainsaws and a couple trimmers, but I need, like, triple that at least,” she said.
Same goes for rechargeable batteries that power these tools — which Bailey-Raines juices up with generators they bring on-site.
A number of organizations — including Neighborhood Survants, Altagether, Project Passion, My Tribe Rise, Dena Heals — have granted money and donated equipment and manpower. Bailey-Raines has also put in her own money.
“My dream is one Saturday morning to have 500 people and that we clear a whole street, a whole block — so that this list of 200 can go down, and as others hear about it, they get on it, and we as a community do this as neighbors to help one another,” she said.
