Steve Lopez

L.A. Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez was touring the eastern fringe of MacArthur Park with a medical outreach team when they paused to make sure a shirtless man slumped on a bench was still breathing. He was, so they moved on to […]

If you spend much time in the Westlake neighborhood of Los Angeles, you will notice, amid the clamor of buses and trucks and car horns and vendors hawking their goods, a nearly steady symphony of sirens. They scream day and

Once again, it has become clear that the letters D, M and V are like magic beans. Toss them into the public square, and the harvest begins immediately. Earlier this week, I asked if a behind-the-wheel driving test should be

The long statewide nightmare has ended. After months of irritating technical glitches, confusing options and maddeningly irrelevant test questions, most California drivers 70 and older who apply to renew their driver’s license will no longer be required to take a

The search party walked slowly up Alvarado Street by MacArthur Park and turned right onto Wilshire Boulevard, filled with heartbreak and hope. Barbara Siegman and Michele Wood, mother and daughter, were searching for a 34-year-old named Jackie, who is homeless

Andrew Wolff stood in darkness, looking down Alvarado Street and conducting a visual inventory of broken streetlights on the eastern border of MacArthur Park. “There are no lights all the way up to that corner,” Wolff said, pointing to Wilshire

You know what the problem is with California? Democrats—or so I’m told. If I write about broken sidewalks in Los Angeles, readers write to say it’s the fault of Democrats. Homelessness, crime on public transit, poverty — in every case,

It’s taken me a few weeks of research, but I think I finally have some answers about what to do if you live in the city of Los Angeles and would like to have sidewalks that don’t resemble obstacle courses.

Norm Langer, owner of the iconic MacArthur Park deli with his name on the sign, got a phone call just after 8 a.m. Tuesday. L.A. Mayor Karen Bass was on the line. She had read my recent column, in which

When he was a boy of 12 or so, and his parents were busy running the family restaurant, Norm Langer spent hours across the street in MacArthur Park. It was, at the time, an elegant urban oasis, with lollipop palms