The Brief

On a recent morning, Steve Lubanski was cleaning and sorting out items of what remained of The Bunny Museum on Lake Avenue.

Most of the building is gone, although the front gray wall remains. It's along that wall where Lubanksi placed pieces that survived the fire. His goal: to signal to passersby where the museum once stood, and where it will return.

“ It's not structural anymore,” he said of the remaining wall. “You can't build with it, but I want to leave it up and it'll be an homage to the previous building.”

The Eaton Fire destroyed the world’s largest bunny collection — more than 60,000 items — housed at the Altadena museum. But Lubanski and his wife Candace Frazee are already planning its comeback.

Collecting thousands of bunnies

Lubanski and Frazee still light up when they tell the story of how they began their collection.

When they were dating, Frazee began calling her now-husband “honey bunny.” The couple later began gifting each other bunny items as a token of their love. The exchange became a daily ritual, amassing into an assortment of thousands and thousands of items. Their gifts to each other, together with donated pieces, made up the museum's extensive collection.

Steve Lubansky and his wife Candace Frazee are the cofounders of The Bunny Museum. They also lived on the property that was burned down by the Eaton Fire.

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They first put bunny items on display at an exhibit held in 1998 at the home where they lived in Pasadena. Nearly a decade later, their collection had outgrown that space and they moved to the Altadena location that was destroyed in the Eaton Fire. Over the years, the museum garnered recognition from the Guinness World Records, The Smithsonian and the Los Angeles Almanac.

On the museum’s Instagram, the couple photographed visitors with their bunny swag or their own collectibles — from tattoos to plush toys. Frazee also shows me what they call the "bunny bump," a Bunny Museum greeting that involves a peace sign or bunny ears and a fist bump.

The "bunny bump" is the official greeting of the museum.

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Courtesy of The Bunny Museum.

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The couple aimed to create a fun, unique experience with a salon-style display — curated exhibits that spanned top to floor. A Christmas tree with bunny ornaments, keychains, plates, paintings, parade floats were all housed there. They also kept bunnies — real living, breathing ones — that made it out during the fire.

When they open again the couple say they’ll have an area of the museum permanently dedicated to the fire.

“ We can't forget about what happened,” Lubanski said.

Trying to save The Bunny Museum

The duo were glued to the news on Jan. 7 as Altadena went up in flames. The fire didn’t seem all that close for most of the evening. Then the power went out.

Frazee began packing up their most important items, including the live bunnies. They tried to save as much as they could — the phrase “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” pops into Lubanski’s mind, he said.

The couple said they never received an emergency alert. Still, after midnight, as neighbors evacuated, they said the neighborhood was empty.

There was a fire hydrant next to the museum, which was also their home, but Lubanski said when firefighters came by it was dry.

So he grabbed a household hose and tried to wash down the area ahead of the fire arriving. The smoke and the wind was so bad that the couple could barely see anything in front of them, but they remained for as long as they could.

He gave up in the morning and believes the building likely went up in flames shortly after.

The museum was destroyed, the apartment building next door was seemingly untouched.

The next steps

The day I visited Lubanski and Frazee, a woman and her young daughter were dropping off bunny items, including Easter decor. Frazee showed them what was left of the collection, away from the dangerous parts of the rubble.

 ”The love has been incredible,” she said. “We'll come up to the debris and in the morning find a (toy) bunny sitting right there in the driveway. Like somebody cared enough to come up and donate.”

Museum cofounder Steve Lubansky cleans the remaining front wall where they plan to rebuild The Bunny Museum.

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Brandon Killman

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They have a storage container sitting on the side of the lot, where they’re packing anything from the debris that they can.

The couple is also receiving personal donations. Frazee said that anything donated to the museum, the couple cannot use for themselves. Amazon and other stores’ gift cards have gone a long way, she said.

“It's just so weird how you lose everything,” Frazee said. “It's like we're shopping every day.”

At the museum, they’re trying to prevent enormous destruction again.

When the museum doors reopen — they hope in about three years — the structure will look different. The couple is planning to build with fire resistant materials and remove vegetation around the building.

“Nothing that could burn,” Lubanski said, “we’re over that.”

They hope to have a soft opening as soon as the building is rebuilt to showcase the new space to the public and supporters. Later, they’ll start designing their bunny exhibitions and everything that comes curating and running a space.

Lubanski and Frazee, who have yet to find permanent housing, are grateful to have the aid they’ve been given, but “it’s never enough,” she said.

Watch the video

Temporary mailing address to send bunny items:

The Bunny Museum
2335 E Colorado Blvd.
Suite 115 PMB 350
Pasadena, CA 91107

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.