The Brief

In 2017 I received a call that my godfather, Charlie Cheathem, then in his late 80s, was in the hospital. I’d grown up living close by in Compton — his daughter was my best friend. Back then, Compton was a middle class neighborhood with tree-lined streets, housing many Black professionals, Charlie among them.

During my hospital visit, a close friend and former colleague of his arrived, and they began reminiscing about the time they worked on the Apollo missions at North American Aviation in Downey, in southeastern L.A. County.

Apollo command module at North American Aviation's facility in Downey, 1966.

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Courtesy NASA

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As they continued to chat, I heard something Charlie had glossed over when I was younger. It was the discrimination they’d experienced as a handful of Black aerospace engineers inside the giant facility. Charlie had told me all about his work in aerospace throughout my childhood, and how passionate he’d been about it, but until now this other aspect hadn’t quite registered.

This time, however, as a self-proclaimed history buff, I was intrigued. I sat down with my cell phone in hand and pressed record.

Filling in the picture

Afterwards, when Charlie was back at home, I couldn't shake my curiosity and wanted to know more. Over the months I plied him with questions and recorded him whenever I could. I’d of course learned about the race to space in school and its importance to the U.S., but it turned out there was so much I hadn’t known about.

Charlie Cheathem, who worked on the Apollo missions.

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Rachel Swaby

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LAist

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Like President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 executive order outlawing racial discrimination in the hiring of federal government workers, with an understanding that the billions of dollars going into the space race could potentially open up thousands of jobs for Black workers.

Even then, though, it was more likely that a Black man would become a janitor than an aerospace engineer. That was still pretty rare. (Charlie, with a typical bull-headedness, had made it happen earlier through sheer determination).

While the doors had been opened for these men, however, once they were inside they had to prove themselves again and again. They were often not welcomed, were disrespected, and later even surveilled by the company. And all the while, unbeknownst to them, getting paid less than their white counterparts.

It seemed to be a place where space and race collided, and I felt these stories had to be told before it was too late. Given Charlie’s age, time was running out.

When I shared my new knowledge with other people, they appeared surprised as well. They didn’t know there were Black engineers involved in the moonshot, or that Los Angeles had played a key role in the Apollo missions. (North American Aviation was a subcontractor to NASA, and had built the Saturn V's second stage rocket and the command module, which housed the astronauts and landed on the moon, in Downey.)

Nate LeVert at the launch of Apollo 6.

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Courtesy Nate LeVert

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Developing the podcast

Now actively on my own mission, I asked Charlie if he could connect me with some of his colleagues. He put me in touch with Shelby Jacobs, with whom he’d worked, and through Shelby I connected with his close friend Nate LeVert.

When I learned more about their contributions, I was astounded. These three men had played key roles. Nate had designed the engine propellant system for the second stage rocket and worked on every Apollo launch.

Shelby had built the camera system that took the very first photographs of the curvature of the earth from space. And Charlie oversaw all configuration management, which meant his sign-off was crucial to the rocket’s production. All at a time when civil rights unrest was rocking the country.

The separation of Saturn V's second stage rocket during the Apollo 6 mission.

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Courtesy NASA

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As an avid listener of public radio and podcasts, I began to think that an audio series was the way to go to get these stories out. One day a few years ago I was at an LAist event when I began talking to a woman next to me, who turned out to be a senior editor at LAist, Suzanne Levy.

I told her about Charlie’s story, and she was also fascinated. Over the weeks, we developed the idea together, and she suggested I should be the host.

"Wait, that wasn't what I’d signed up for!" I thought. I'd figured someone else was going to do it. I was terrified — I’d never done anything like it. But I realized she was right. I couldn't let my fear get in the way. I had the personal connection to the story, and I needed to tell it.

And then, she pitched it internally to LAist Studios.

LA Made: The Other Moonshot.

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Lethabo Huma

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LAist

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In-depth interviews

It was great timing. They were producing another space-related podcast, Blood, Sweat and Rockets, and thought this was a perfect complement. Antonia Cereijido, now the host of Imperfect Paradise, and Shana Krochmal, VP of LAist Studios, gave it the green light. They brought on production company Reasonable Volume to make it. And with their executive producer Rachel Swaby, we were off to the races.

Shelby Jacobs shows podcast host Joanne Higgins a photo album from his days as an aerospace engineer.

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Rachel Shelby

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LAist

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We began extensive interviews of each man, talking to them on multiple occasions. One day we spent eight hours straight interviewing Shelby about his life. It was good that we did, because just two months later, he died from cancer. It emphasized the urgency of getting all their stories down on tape.

Shelby Jacob's NASA towels in his bathroom.

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Rachel Swaby

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LAist

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My relationship with these extraordinary men became more personal with each interview session. The more involved we got, the more they felt comfortable sharing with me. I met their families and they let me into their worlds. Shelby had a whole bathroom and guest room completely devoted to aerospace, including NASA-branded towels with his name embroidered on them.

Charlie had kept so many artifacts his garage was stuffed full, including the original Wall Street Journal edition where he was included in a front page photograph promoting North American Aviation’s top Apollo team. And Nate showed me some of his original design drawings, still intact after more than 50 years.

A promotion by North American Aviation in the Wall Street Journal showing Charlie Cheathem, on the left hand side.

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Courtesy Elizabeth Cheathem

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Difficult memories

Revisiting this time in their lives, however, also brought up negative things they had endured. Painful experiences, like witnessing the aftermath of a lynching in Alabama, as Nate had done as a young boy. Or being told in college, as Charlie was, not to follow his dream to be an architect because Blacks would never be able to “travel the world to experience different types of architecture.“ Or having someone look at you, like Shelby had, and tell you “you are just too dark to get work in the field.”

But they didn’t hold back, and we heard stories that moved us to tears. Now the four-part podcast is finally out, and I’m so proud of it. There were many times over the years when I questioned if it would happen, but I was propelled by these men. Despite the difficulties, they never gave up. They went on to succeed in something they were passionate about, and have careers they loved, which allowed them to comfortably raise their families. Their strength is what I would draw on whenever I got discouraged or disappointed.

I feel this podcast is my best representation of their journey, and mine. It is my offering to them, and my way of saying thank you. I know of no better way to show my gratitude for a job well done and a life well lived.

Listen to Episode 1

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Since 1977, Richard Santillan has been to every Opening Day game at Dodger Stadium. 

“The tradition goes from my father, to me, to my children and grandchildren. Some of my best memories are with my father and children here at Dodger Stadium,” Santillan told The LA Local, smiling under the shade of palm trees near the entrance to the ballpark Wednesday morning. He was there to protest the team less than 24 hours before Opening Day.

Santillan, like countless other loyal Dodgers fans, is grappling with his fan identity over the team’s decision to accept an invitation to the White House and owner Mark Walter’s ties to ICE detention facilities.

More than 30 people joined Santillan on Wednesday morning for a press conference held near 1000 Vin Scully Drive to convey a message directly to the team. 

“We are demanding the Dodgers stop participating in funding of inhumane treatment of families and do not go to the White House to celebrate with the criminal in chief,” Evelyn Escatiola told the crowd. “Together, we have the power to make a change.”

Escatiola, a former dean of East Los Angeles College and longtime community organizer, urged fans to flex their economic power by “letting the Dodgers know that we do not support repression.”

Jorge “Coqui” Rodriguez, a lifelong Dodgers fan, spoke to the crowd and called on Dodgers ownership to divest from immigration detention centers owned and operated by GEO Group and CoreCivic.

Jorge Coqui H Rodriguez speaks at a press conference outside Dodger Stadium on March 25, 2026, to demand the Dodgers not to visit the White House following their 2025 World Series win.

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J.W. Hendricks

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The LA Local

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In a phone interview a day before the protest, Rodriguez told The LA Local he did not want the Dodgers using his “cheve” or beer money to fund detention centers. 

“They can’t take our parking money, our cacahuate money, our cheve money, our Dodger Dog money and invest those funds into corporations that are imprisoning people. It’s wrong,” Rodriguez said. 

Rodriguez considers the Dodgers one of the most racially diverse teams and said the players need to support fans at a time when heightened immigration enforcement has become more common across L.A.

The team’s 2025’s visit to the White House drew ire from the largely Latino fan base, citing the Trump administration’s ongoing attacks on immigrants. 

In June, the team came under further scrutiny when rumors swirled online that federal immigration agents were using the stadium’s parking, which immigration authorities later denied in statements posted on social media accounts.

The team again came under fire after not releasing a statement on the impacts of ICE raids on its mostly Latino fan base at the height of immigration enforcement last summer. The team later agreed to invest $1 million to support families affected by immigration enforcement.

When he learned the Dodgers were pledging only $1 million to families in need, Rodriguez called the amount a  “slap in the face.” 

“These guys just bought the Lakers for billions of dollars and they give a million dollars to fight for legal services? That’s a joke,” Rodriguez said. “They need to have a moral backbone and not be investing in those companies.”

According to reporting from the Los Angeles Times, former Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershawsaid last week that he is looking forward to the trip.

“I went when President [Joe] Biden was in office. I’m going to go when President [Donald] Trump is in office,” Kershaw said. “To me, it’s just about getting to go to the White House. You don’t get that opportunity every day, so I’m excited to go.”

The Dodgers have yet to announce when their planned visit will take place. 

Santillan sometimes laments his decision to give up his season tickets in protest of the team. His connection to the stadium and the memories he has made there with family and friends will last a lifetime, he said. On Thursday, he will uphold his tradition and be there for the first pitch of the season, but with a heavy heart.

“It’s a family tradition, but the Dodgers have a lot of work to do,” he said.

A local favorite mom-and-pop bookshop in Eagle Rock is facing displacement due to a steep rent hike. The owners say theirs is just one of several small businesses along Eagle Rock Boulevard struggling to keep up with lease increases.

Over the past 19 years, many in the neighborhood have come to love READ Books for its eclectic collection of used titles and shop dog Florence.

Co-owner Jeremy Kaplan said it’s been a delight to grow with the community over the years.

“Like seeing kids come back in, who were in grade school and now they’re in college,” Kaplan said.

But the building where Kaplan and wife Debbie rent was recently sold, and the rent increased by more than 130% to $2,805 a month, Kaplan said. He told LAist it was an increase his small business simply could not absorb.

Kaplan said he originally was given 30 days notice of the rent increase. After some research, assistance from Councilmember Ysabel Jurado’s office and some pro-bono legal help, Kaplan said he pushed back and got the 90-day notice he’s afforded by state law.

California Senate Bill 1103 requires landlords to give businesses with five or less employees 90 days’ notice for rent increases exceeding 10%, among other protections.

Systems Real Estate, the property management company, did not immediately respond to LAist’s request for comment.

What can small businesses do? 

Nadia Segura, directing attorney of the Small Business Program at pro bono legal aid non-profit Bet Tzedek said California law does not currently allow for rent control for commercial tenancies.

Outside of the protections under SB 1103, Segura said small businesses like READ Books don’t have much other recourse. And even then, commercial landlords are not required to inform their tenants of their protections under the law.

“There’s still a lot of people that don’t know about SB 1103. And then it’s very sad that they tell them they have these rent increases and within a month they have to leave,” Segura said.

She said her group is seeing steep rent hikes like this for commercial tenants across the city.

“We are seeing this even more with the World Cup coming up, the Olympics coming up. And I will say it was very sad to see that also after the wildfires,” Segura said.

Part of Bet Tzedek’s ongoing work is to advocate for small businesses, working with landlords who are increasing rents to see if they are willing to give business owners longer leases that lock in rents.

What’s next 

After READ Books posted about their situation on social media, commenters chimed in to express their outrage and love for the little shop.

While he looks for a new spot, Kaplan says he’s forming a coalition of local businesses and activist groups to see what can be done to help other small businesses facing similar displacement. He wants to address the displacement issue for businesses like his, which have made Eagle Rock the distinctive neighborhood that it is today.

Owl Talk, a longtime Eagle Rock staple selling clothing and accessories in a unit in the same building as READ Books, is facing a “more than double” rent increase, according to a post on their Instagram account.

Kaplan said he’s been in touch with the office of state Assemblywoman Jessica Caloza and wants to explore the possibility of introducing legislation to set up protections for small businesses like his, including rent-control measures or a vacancy tax for landlords. Kaplan said he also reached out to the office of state Sen. Maria Durazo.

By his count, Kaplan said there are about a dozen businesses within surrounding blocks that are at risk of closing their doors or have shuttered due to rent increases or other struggles.

When READ Books was founded during the Great Recession, Kaplan said he knew it was a longshot to open a bookstore at the same time so many were struggling to stay in business.

“It was kind of interesting to be doing something that neighborhoods needed. That was important to me growing up, that was important to my children, that was important to my wife growing up,” Kaplan said.

“And then somebody comes in and says, ‘We’re gonna over double your rent.”

Topline:

Frozen budget: Most of the city’s Bureau of Street Lighting budget comes from an assessment that people who own property illuminated by lights pay on their county property tax bill. The amount people pay depends on the kind of property they own and how much they benefit from lighting. A typical single-family home currently pays $53 annually, and in total, the assessments bring in about $45 million annually for the city to repair and maintain streetlights. Changing the amount the Bureau of Street Lighting gets from the assessment requires a vote among property owners who benefit from the lights.

Ballots: L.A. City Council’s vote gives city staff the green light to prepare and send out those ballots. Miguel Sangalang, who oversees the bureau, said at a committee meeting earlier this month that he expects to send out ballots by April 17. Notices about the ballots will be sent out prior to the ballots themselves.

Near unanimous vote: L.A. City Councilmember Monica Rodriguez was the only “No” vote Tuesday, saying she wanted to see a more current strategic plan for the bureau. Sangalang said the bureau developed a plan in 2022 that lays out how money will be spent. Councilmember Imelda Padilla was absent for the vote.

Vote count: Votes will be weighted according to the assessment amount. Basically, the more you’re asked to pay yearly to maintain streetlights, the more your vote will count. Ballots received before June 2 will be tabulated by the L.A. City Clerk.

How much more money: According to a report, the amount needed in assessments from property owners to meet the repair and maintenance needs of the city’s streetlighting in the next fiscal year is nearly $112 million.

Use of the money: Sangalang said at a March 11 committee meeting that the extra funds would be used to double the number of staff to handle repairs and procure solar streetlights, which don’t face the threat of copper wire theft. That would all potentially reduce the time it takes to repair simple fixes down to a week. Currently, city residents wait for months to see broken streetlights repaired. The assessment would come with a three-year auditing mechanism.