The Brief

In the latest culture war to hit Westminster city hall, the City Council on Wednesday voted to rename a street after Charlie Kirk, the conservative activist who was shot and killed in September, and designate Oct. 14 in his honor.

The vote came despite the majority of public speakers at the meeting calling it a political move meant to serve congressional ambitions at a time when city leaders should be focusing on serious ongoing financial challenges.

Westminster has flirted with filing for bankruptcy numerous times in the past few years, and one reason observers and residents say they haven't been able to address the issues is because City Council meetings get pulled into culture wars and in fighting.

Mayor Chi Charlie Nguyen, who proposed changing All American Way to Charlie Kirk Way, said it would “honor someone who has encouraged a new generation to care about their country, to get involved and to speak up for what they believe in.”

“This is freedom of speech,” he said. “Charlie Kirk’s message has inspired countless young Americans to think critically, serve their communities and appreciate the freedom we enjoy.”

In September, Kirk, a right-wing activist and ally of President Donald Trump, was fatally shot during an outdoor speaking event at Utah Valley University. Kirk rose to fame for espousing right-wing Christian values and connecting with young people on college campuses.

But Councilmember Carlos Manzo, the sole voice of dissent on the dais against the street renaming, said the move  was just “exploiting a tragedy for political gain.” He pointed out that Nguyen and Councilmember Amy Phan West are running for Congress in 2026 and using their nonpartisan council seats to spotlight “national divisive issues” that they can use to campaign on a Republican platform.

Public weighs in

A cross section of city residents, including self-identified conservative Republicans, spoke out against the proposals, calling them a waste of money and time.

“ I am against spending tax dollars to name the street after Charlie, as much as I like him,” said Michael Verrengia, a longtime Westminster resident and veteran. “He didn't live in Westminster. He didn't do anything for Westminster.”

Another resident, Tammy Hamill, called the move “campaigning from the dais.”

“You guys are putting this stuff on there to get the word out to your party leaders,” she said.

Westminster residents approved increasing the city’s sales tax in 2022 and again in 2024 to save the city from filing for bankruptcy. Hamill said residents reluctantly voted for those tax increases to save the city from filing bankruptcy, not to spend on “pet projects.”

Others suggested the council use the $3,000 allocated to renaming the street toward youth programming or honoring the Mendez family. In the 1940s, the Mendez family in Westminster successfully challenged the segregation of Mexican American children in California schools, which was used as a precedent for the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision that desegregated schools across the country.

Hollywood director Rob Reiner and his wife Michele Singer Reiner were found dead Sunday at their home in Brentwood. LAPD officials said they are investigating “an apparent homicide” at the residence, but declined to give additional details.

Their deaths were confirmed in a statement released by the family to the media — and in social media posts by L.A. Mayor Karen Bass and Gov. Gavin Newsom Sunday evening.

The family statement said: "It is with profound sorrow that we announce the tragic passing of Michele and Rob Reiner. We are heartbroken by this sudden loss, and we ask for privacy during this unbelievably difficult time."

A police officer blocks off a street near the Brentwood home of Rob Reiner and his wife Michele Singer.

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Ethan Swope

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AP

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The Associated Press was among numerous media outlets reporting that sources, speaking on the condition of anonymity, said investigators believe the couple suffered stab wounds. The AP also reported the same source said investigators were questioning a family member.

Reiner, 78, became a household name playing Michael "Meathead" Stivic on TV’s All In The Family — but went on to eclipse that early success with a decades-long career in film. He directed dozens of movies including such legendary romantic comedies as When Harry Met Sally and The American President, as well as revived the art of the mockumentary with This Is Spinal Tap. Other beloved films include Stand By Me and The Princess Bride.

He was nominated for an Oscar for directing A Few Good Men.

Michele Singer Reiner, 68, was a photographer who met her husband while he was filming When Harry Met Sally. He said he changed the ending of the film after their meeting.

The couple have three children together. Reiner was previously married to the late Penny Marshall and adopted her daughter.

Reactions

Bass issued a statement calling the deaths "a devastating loss." She recalled Reiner for a career in Hollywood that spanned roles as an actor, director, producer and writer, but also as a political activist who "always used his gifts in service of others."

Reiner helped to create an early childhood education initiative — dubbed First 5 California — paid for by a tax on tobacco sales. He and his wife were also “true champions for LGBTQ+ rights,” Bass said.

Newsom also released a statement expressing heartbreak over the news, calling Reiner "the big-hearted genius behind so many of the classic stories we love."

He added: "That empathy extended well beyond his films. Rob was a passionate advocate for children and for civil rights — from taking on Big Tobacco to fighting for marriage equality to serving as a powerful voice in early education. He made California a better place through his good works."

Reiner’s father, comedy legend Carl Reiner, died at age 98 in 2020. When his father died, Rob Reiner called him "my guiding light."

This is a developing story. It will be updated as LAist learns more.

A Rolex Deepsea diver's watch can withstand water pressure at depths of more than 12,000 feet.

"Basically, the most bulletproof, toughest watch that Rolex makes," says Marshall Sutcliffe, who runs a popular YouTube channel on watch restoration.

But what about fire?

About seven months ago, Sutcliffe received an intriguing request from a viewer and his father to restore a Rolex that was recovered in the rubble of the Palisades Fire.

The watch's owner had lost everything, the two said, save for a husk of that 2015 Deepsea wristwatch.

" The idea of these fires, even though it was very much in my mind, was distant," said Sutcliffe, who lives in Seattle. "Getting something that came out of one of those fires and having it sitting in front of me was an emotional experience."

'It was annihilated'

A viewer of Marshall Sutcliffe's YouTube channel asked if he could fix a Rolex recovered in the rubble of the Palisades Fire.

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Even for Sutcliffe, the state of the timepiece was a shock.

 "It was annihilated  to a level that even I couldn't have imagined until I opened up the watch," he said.

The outside structure, despite having been cooked for weeks, was surprisingly intact. The case and the metal bracelet, discolored and ashen, were still there. The dial, too, had survived but was unreadable. Gone were the crystal, as well as the bezel with numbers that go around the exterior.

" My assumption is that [they] popped off because of the extreme heat," Sutcliffe said.

Then he went in.

The movement of the Rolex was all but unrecognizable.

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" I had a little bit of my brain thinking that maybe part of the movement inside would've survived," he said. "I don't know why I thought that."

Some of the metal had melted into other parts, morphing into one big rusty gunk.

"There's basically no moving parts anymore left," he said.

One of Sutcliffe’s biggest challenges in the restoration was to get the movement itself out of the case.

"I  tried to undo a screw on it," Sutcliffe said. "It turned into a pile of dust."

Finally, he had to just dig into it, using the biggest screwdriver in his toolbox of tiny watch repair instruments.

"Piece by piece," Sutcliffe said. " They just flaked off."

After that, the rest of the work was relatively straightforward, but no less painstaking. Sutcliffe took a movement from a similar Rolex and replaced it wholesale. The other parts, he tried to retain as much as possible.

The movement of the Rolex was completely destroyed by the Palisades Fire

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Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

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Sutcliffe wanted to retain as many original parts from the destroyed Rolex as possible.

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What is original?

But that led to a philosophical question.

"You know, what makes a thing a thing, right?” he asked. “If you replace a bunch of parts on it, what does that end up being? What I decided to do was I kept every part that I could."

And there's one part he kept that carries special meaning.

In the middle of the restoration, an idea hit Sutcliffe to keep an inner ring of the Deepsea — a detail you can see but something that most people probably wouldn’t notice.

During restoration, Sutcliffe had the idea to retain a burnt, darkened inner ring from the original watch.

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Normally, that part is bright silver with black letters on it. The one on the damaged Rolex was charred to a dark brown, verging on black.

Sutcliffe contacted the owner.

"I asked him if I could leave that in there so that it could kind of be a subtle symbol to him," he said. "That he made it and it made it, and he's going to continue on.”

The owner agreed.

After the video of the restoration was posted, Sutcliffe got an email.

The owner thanked the watch repairer, telling him that seeing the Deepsea, a gift that was given to him, being slowly put back together was emotional.

Sutcliffe feels it, too. He still remembers first holding the watch with the marks of incredible destruction in his hand. After the monthslong process, he is struck by what it has now become — "functional again, beautiful again... ready to live a long life."

They say there are no seasons in L.A. That’s just wrong. There are, it’s just they don’t make any sense. In the U.K., where I’m from, the seasons are pretty predictable. A period of lots of rain (winter), then a little less rain (spring), rain when you don’t want it (summer) and back to lots of rain (autumn). And yes, as far as I’m concerned, it’s autumn. Not fall. Fall is a verb, not a noun.

But here in L.A., as I look up at a tree with maroon leaves next to a palm tree, it’s like someone picked up all the seasons and threw them up in the air and let them fall as they will. (See what I did there?)

So yes, in winter the air is cold, but the sun is hot. There’s hot chocolate and iced latte, sometimes at the same time. There’s woodfire smoke in the evening and lunchtime outdoor dining. Sit inside or out? Um, can we do both? Like my top half is in the sun, but my bottom half is in the shade, and then I flip like a burger?

A palm tree in downtown L.A.

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Newcomer confusion

It’s certainly confusing for new arrivals. We got here in January some years ago, leaving a cold rainy East Coast behind. I spent the first Sunday sitting at a beachfront cafe as the sun shone gorgeously down from the heavens.

But as we went down to the ocean, my then-5-year-old daughter looked about, panicking, and said, “Mommy, we mustn’t be here, there’s nobody here!”

I looked about and realized she was right. There was no one on the beach, even though it was pretty warm. Definitely as warm as I remember summer vacations being in the U.K., where you’d put up wind breaks on the sand and huddle next to them as the North wind blew across the beach and the sun apathetically glanced down every now and then.

“No,” I said soundlng like the love child of Mary Popppins and Steven Fry. “Come on! I’d have given anything to be on a beach like this as a kid! Lovely weather!”

So we walked along on the deserted sand as I shook my head at the waste of it all. These wide, wide beaches...and no one on them? These Californians need to build character. Make them go on beach walks when it’s below 70 degrees! It’s a shame, I said, shame.

Lying thermostats

Now I’ve been here over a decade and have acclimatized. I think going to the beach past November is the mark of a mad person, and I feel the cold in my bones. Not from the swirling snow outside, or from the freezing winds hurtling down a city block, but in my home. Yes .... it’s often colder inside than out. At least it feels that way. The thermostat cheerfully tells me it’s 71 degrees and I want to yell at it: “You’re lying! How is this 71 degrees when my feet at my desk are iceblocks and I’m burrowing my nose in the scarf that apparently I’m wearing indoors even though it’s blazing sunshine outside?”

Sometimes I need to sit in my puffer coat on top of a heater just to keep my body temperature higher than a reptile.

Look, I know it’s because they didn’t put insulation in most L.A. houses last century, and my feet are resting on a few inches of wooden floor and then nothing — just a massive hole in the ground — but it just seems odd. I go outside to warm up in the middle of the day, and turn my face up to the sky to absorb the liquid gold, and all is good .... until I go inside again and scream at the thermostat.

But a confused California winter season is still better than most other places. The air doesn’t attack you when you’re outside, like New York or Chicago. And snow is for mountains only. There’s no scraping ice off windshields, only a mild condensation. It doesn’t take 30 minutes to dress your kids when you’re about to go out, and you can get wonderfully sweet strawberries, freshly picked, at the farmers market. Or a persimmon. Or a plum. In December.

So as I head out in a fleece, shorts and flip flops to get wood for my fireplace while picking up more sun tan lotion, let’s hear it for SoCal’s crazy seasons, confused as hell and making it up as they go along — like most of us.

Los Angeles has plenty of world-renowned art museums, but you often don't have to stray far from the street to see interesting work.

One of them is housed on top of the parking garage sign at the intersection of 5th and Hill streets near Pershing Square. It’s been there since last Spring, situated right next to the familiar sight of deterrence spikes.

The big draw? It’s a restaurant for pigeons.

Six pigeons sit at the "Spike Cafe" on top of the Pershing Square Garage sign.

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S.C. Mero

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You can’t perch here

“ The project came about because I was messing with these deterrents,” said S.C. Mero, the artist behind “Spike Cafe”. “Some of the deterrents are human deterrents in downtown, to keep the unhoused population from sleeping in certain areas. It's essentially hostile architecture.”

Mero is a guerilla street artist based in Los Angeles. She uses the found environment of the city for whimsical storytelling, juxtaposing social issues with smile-inducing imagery.

In other pieces of the series, she put things like fake marshmallows, cheese and olives on the bird spikes around L.A, which led to the idea of "Spike Cafe."

“I’d just sort of had an idea like, wouldn't it be interesting, since they're supposed to deter the pigeons, if the pigeons instead had just set up right next to them and they were using the deterrents as a place to dine,” Mero said.

So Mero installed two fake pigeons: One with a top hat and the other with a hat made of straw. She fastened them to a strip of plastic deterrence spikes, then put that on top of the garage sign. She even fit the spikes with a fake feast of finger sandwiches and shrimp cocktails.

“These pigeons took something that was supposed to be, putting them down or keeping them away, and they flipped it and used it for something that was good.” Mero said.

High noon at the Spike Cafe

Mero considered the installation complete, but a couple weeks later while walking through Pershing Square she noticed one of her fake pigeons lying on its side. Her first thought was she hadn’t secured the sculpture properly.

But that wasn’t it. Mero eventually found out that real pigeons were landing on her sculpture. “They were dining at the Spike Cafe, but they were using my pigeons as stools,” Mero said.

Mero liked that real birds were appreciating her art, but she wasn’t thrilled they were damaging it. So she put spikes on her fake pigeons — which also didn't deter the birds.

“The pigeons just continued to land. They found a different little spot, like the head of the pigeon to land on. And I just kind of conceded,” Mero said. “I might as well just embrace it.”

Consider the birds

Mero took down her fictional birds. She added stools for the real ones, umbrellas for shade, and plastic strawberries and watermelon pieces for her diners.

Three pigeons at the "Spike Cafe" look down onto Pershing square from their resting places.

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S.C. Mero

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“It ended up being a very fun installation because I realized that it's even better when it's the actual pigeons,” Mero said.

So the next time you find yourself in Pershing Square, pull up a seat right next to a feathered friend at Spike Cafe.

Pigeons at the "Spike Cafe" pose for a picture while sunbathing.

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S.C. Mero

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