Vargas

An immigrant drama by Rudi Goblen about two brothers born in Nicaragua, “littleboy/littleman,” now receiving its world premiere at the Geffen Playhouse, is an American story at its core.

Lest we forget our past, America is the great democratic experiment precisely because it’s a land of immigrants. Out of many, one — as our national motto, E pluribus unum, has it. How have we lost sight of this basic tenet of high school social studies?

Our tendency to ghettoize drama — along racial or immigrant lines — reflects the failure to understand our collective story.

Goblen, who (like a.k. payne, author of “Furlough’s Paradise”) was a playwriting student of Geffen Playhouse artistic director Tarell Alvin McCraney at Yale, has created not a conventionally worked out two-hander, but an intuitively structured performance piece. Infused by live music and inflected with hip-hop style poetry, “littleboy/littleman” crashes through the fourth wall to make direct contact with theatergoers, who are seated on three sides of the playing area and always just a high-five away.

Marlon Alexander Vargas, the dynamic, sweet-faced performer who plays Fito Palomino, the more creative and mercurial of the two brothers, is on stage interacting with the audience before the play begins. As the musicians — music director Dee Simone on drums and Tonya Sweets on bass — warm up the crowd from their platform at the back of the playing area, Vargas, ever-in-motion, greets theatergoers and counts down to the start of the show.

Rules are spelled out at the top that make clear that this isn’t one of those docile theatergoing experiences, in which the audience is expected to keep mum as the actors do all the work. Spectators are encouraged to make some noise — to show love when they want to show love and to show it even when they don’t.

These friendly instructions are impishly delivered by Vargas, whose performance outside the play has an effect on our experience of his character inside the play. The fate of Fito is the emotional crux of the drama, and what happens to him matters all the more to us because of our theatrical connection to Vargas, our de facto host and impromptu buddy.

Goblen sets up a drama of fraternal contrasts. Bastian Monteyero (Alex Hernandez), the older and more straitlaced of the two brothers, has a tough, no-nonsense demeanor that’s all about discipline and conformity. He’s a bit of a recluse, but he plays by the rules and demands the same from Fito.

A street performer, Fito dreams of opening a vegan restaurant that will offer his community access to affordable, healthful meals. This idea seems far-fetched to Bastian, and he tells Fito that if he wants to continue living with him, he’s going to have to get a real job.

Bastian hooks Fito up with a friend who’s employed at a cleaning service. But scrubbing public toilets isn’t Fito’s idea of an alternative course. Bastian wants his brother off the streets. There are dangers afoot in Sweetwater, Fla., far worse than unpleasant paid work.

A law officer in town, a sadist who demands complete subservience, has it in for Fito, who describes this menacing figure as “a gangster with a badge.” He also calls him “brown on the outside, white on the inside,” and bemoans to his brother the Latino infighting (“the worst thing they ever did was give us all flags”) that only divides people who have political reason to be in solidarity.

Bastian, who affects a white-sounding Midwestern voice when he hustles donations in his telemarketing job, can’t help taking the latter comment personally. He’s made no secret that he wants to change his name so his resume won’t be ignored when he applies for management jobs.

The two brothers have different fathers, and Fito doesn’t have the option of passing. In any case, he’s more embracing of his identity as a person of color than Bastian. What both of them have in common is that they survived both their harrowing childhoods in Nicaragua and their unrelentingly challenging journeys in America, having been raised by a single mother, whose death still haunts them.

Bastian and Fito love each other, but don’t always like each other. Hernandez’s Bastian is a formidable presence, angry, strict and domineering — the qualities he’s needed to navigate a bureaucratic system that has little concern for the feelings of immigrant outsiders. Vargas’ Fito, by contrast, has his head in the clouds and his heart on his sleeve. Goblen never loses sight of their affection even as their conflict grows louder and more bruising.

Bassist Tonya Sweets, from left, Marlon Alexander Vargas and drummer Dee Simone in “littleboy/littleman” at Geffen Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

“littleboy/littleman” is tricky in its theatrical rhythms. It’s like a piece of music that keeps switching harmonic structures, not wanting to get stuck in the same groove. Goblen’s manner of writing is closer to free jazz or freestyle hip-hop than traditional drama.

Director Nancy Medina’s staging, circumnavigating a theatrical circle, lifts the audience out of its proscenium passivity into something almost immersive and definitely interactive. Tanya Orellana’s scenic design and Scott Bolman’s moody lighting create a performance space that is well suited to a work composed as a series of riffs. The influence of McCraney’s “The Brothers Size” is palpable not only in the thematic architecture of the play, but also in how the piece moves on stage.

The staccato nature of the writing is helped enormously by the entrancing acting of both Vargas, who breezes through different theatrical realms as though he had wings, and Hernandez, who locks realistically into character. It’s a credit to the play and to the performers that, by the end of “littleboy/littleman,” the differences between the two brothers seem less important than what they have in common.

Not all the dramatic elements are smoothly integrated, but the production ultimately finds a coherence, not so much in the music (composed by Goblen himself), but in the emotional truth of the brothers’ pressure-cooker lives. Vulnerability unites not only Bastian and Fito, but all of us witnessing their story who hope against hope that compassion will somehow win the day.

Nine months after his death, Fernando Valenzuela stands immortalized in a new mural on the loge‑level wall at Dodger Stadium — a vibrant fusion of art and legacy unveiled Saturday.

Painted by Mexican American artist Robert Vargas, the mural shows Valenzuela tipping his cap to the sky in a Dodgers Mexican‑heritage jersey — featuring a green sleeve, red sleeve, white center — alongside two striking images of Valenzuela in his pitching stance. Vargas said the mural is meant to symbolize unity within the Latino community.

“I felt it very important to show that the Latino community has a place within these walls and has had a place within these walls,” Vargas said.

He wanted to reflect Valenzuela’s spirit that still lives in the hearts of many fans and feature the man behind the player.

“What he did in the community, is what resonates so much more for me than just the player — but the man, the person that he was,” Vargas said.

Valenzuela played for the Dodgers from 1980 to 1990. He grew up in Etchohuaquila, a small town in Mexico, and took Major League Baseball by storm in 1981, earning rookie of the year and Cy Young honors. Latino fans who previously felt little connection to the Dodgers were thrilled to see one of their own winning, sparking Fernandomania. Valenzuela wore No. 34 and it remains a popular jersey worn by fans at Dodger Stadium.

Claudio Campo choked up as he gazed at the tribute. Traveling from Phoenix with his son to celebrate the boy’s 11th birthday, Campo shared memories of a player whose greatness felt deeply personal. Valenzuela’s nickname, “El Toro,” are inked on Campo’s left arm.

“He was a staple for the people that didn’t have anything and then where he came from showed that anything is possible if you go ahead and revive what you are,” Claudio said.

Fans holding Valenzuela bobbleheads given away by the Dodgers took their pictures in front of the new mural Saturday night.

Longtime fan Dulce Gonzalez held back emotion as she showed off her shirt with the name “Valenzuela” written across it, describing the reason she started watching baseball.

“He was the first Latino player I could truly connect with and be proud of,” she said.

For Gonzalez, Valenzuela’s story resonated because he came from the same roots, offering representation she had longed for.

“We are a melting pot of races here, people love baseball from all races, but because I am Latina, I feel a little bit more connected,” she said.

Her son, Nicolas, dressed in a red and green Dodgers Mexican-heritage jersey, said Valenzuela helped heal some wounds after Mexican American families were displaced from their homes in Chavez Ravine shortly before Dodger Stadium was built on the same land.

“He really opened the city up to the Dodgers after a long difficult entry and he really represented triumph over adversity,” Nicolas said.

Peru has declared a national day of mourning with flags flying at half-mast on government premises in memory of writer and Nobel laureate Mario Vargas Llosa.

Vargas Llosa died at the age of 89 on Sunday in the Peruvian capital, Lima, surrounded by his family. His body will be cremated and “no public ceremony will take place”, in accordance with his wishes and instructions, his family said.

“His departure will sadden his relatives, his friends and his readers around the world, but we hope that they will find comfort, as we do, in the fact that he enjoyed a long, adventurous and fruitful life, and leaves behind him a body of work that will outlive him,” his eldest son Alvaro wrote in a message on X, also signed by his siblings Gonzalo and Morgana Vargas Llosa, on Sunday.

It is with deep sorrow that we announce that our father, Mario Vargas LLosa, passed away peacefully in Lima today, surrounded by his family.@morganavll pic.twitter.com/c6HgEfyaIe

— Álvaro Vargas Llosa (@AlvaroVargasLl) April 14, 2025

Vargas Llosa was a leading light in the 20th-century Latin American literature boom, which also included Colombian Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2010 for works like Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, Death in the Andes, and The War of the End of the World.

Born to middle-class parents in Arequipa, Peru, on March 28, 1936, Vargas Llosa frequently drew from personal experience and his family, at times inserting characters based on his own life into his tales.

His acclaimed debut novel, The Time of the Hero (1963), was loosely based on his teenage life as a cadet at a military academy in Lima, while his 1993 memoir, A Fish in the Water, focused on his 1990 presidential run.

Other works expressed deep concern for his country. The Storyteller (1987) deals with the clash of Indigenous and European cultures in Peru, while Death in the Andes (1993) recounts the haunting and bloody years of the Shining Path hardline movement.

“An author’s work is fed by his own experience and, over the years, becomes richer,” Vargas Llosa told the Reuters news agency in an interview in Madrid in 2001.

The Nobel Committee said in 2010 it was awarding him “for his cartography of structures of power and his trenchant images of the individual’s resistance, revolt, and defeat”.

Paying tribute to his colleague, fellow Peruvian writer Alfredo Bryce Echenique hailed Vargas Llosa’s “enormity”. He told Peruvian radio RPP his friend’s death was “a sorrow for Peru”.

In a post on X, Peru’s President Dina Boluarte called him the “most illustrious Peruvian of all time”.

“His intellectual genius and vast body of work will remain an everlasting legacy for future generations,” she added.

Vargas Llosa’s works were also translated into some 30 languages.

US Deputy State Secretary State Christopher Landau said, “To label him as just Peruvian would be a disservice because his themes and interests were timeless and universal.”

“He will live on in my bookshelves and many others in Latin America and around the world,” Landau wrote on X.

Political forays and denouncing Castro

Besides authoring books, Vargas Llosa was also outspoken on political issues.

Although an early supporter of the Cuban revolution led by Fidel Castro, he later grew disillusioned and denounced Castro’s Cuba. By 1980, he said he no longer believed in socialism as a solution for developing nations.

In 1990, Vargas Llosa ran for president of Peru, saying he wanted to save his country from economic chaos and a Marxist armed rebellion.

He, however, lost in the run-off to Alberto Fujimori, a then-unknown agronomist and university professor who defeated the armed rebels but was later jailed for human rights crimes and corruption.

Frustrated by his loss, the writer moved to Spain but remained influential in Latin America, harshly criticising a new wave of strident left-wing leaders led by then-Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.

“In reality, I never had a political career,” Vargas Llosa once said.

“I took part in politics under very special circumstances … and I always said that whether I won or lost the elections, I was going back to my literary, intellectual job, not politics.”

LIMA, Peru — Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa, Nobel literature laureate and a giant of Latin American letters for decades, has died, his son said Sunday. He was 89.

“It is with deep sorrow that we announce that our father, Mario Vargas Llosa, passed away peacefully in Lima today, surrounded by his family,” read a letter signed by his children Álvaro, Gonzalo and Morgana and posted by Álvaro on X.

The letter says that his remains will be cremated and that there won’t be any public ceremony.

“His departure will sadden his relatives, his friends and his readers around the world, but we hope that they will find comfort, as we do, in the fact that he enjoyed a long, adventurous and fruitful life, and leaves behind him a body of work that will outlive him,” they added.

He wrote such celebrated novels as “The Time of the Hero” (“La Ciudad y los Perros”) and “Feast of the Goat.”

A prolific novelist and essayist and winner of myriad prizes, Vargas Llosa was awarded the Nobel in 2010 after being considered a contender for many years.

Vargas Llosa published his first collection of stories, “The Cubs and Other Stories” (“Los Jefes”) in 1959. But he burst onto the literary stage in 1963 with his groundbreaking debut novel, “The Time of the Hero,” a book that drew on his experiences at a Peruvian military academy and angered the country’s military. A thousand copies of the novel were burned by military authorities, with some generals calling the book false and Vargas Llosa a communist.

That, and subsequent novels such as “Conversation in the Cathedral” (“Conversación en la Catedral”) in 1969, quickly established Vargas Llosa as one of the leaders of the so-called Boom, or new wave of Latin American writers of the 1960s and 1970s, alongside Gabriel García Márquez and Carlos Fuentes.

Vargas Llosa started writing early, and at 15 was a part-time crime reporter for La Crónica newspaper. According to his official website, other jobs he had included revising names on cemetery tombs in Peru, working as a teacher in the Berlitz school in Paris and briefly on the Spanish desk at Agence France-Presse in Paris.

He continued publishing articles in the press for most of his life, most notably a twice-monthly political opinion column titled “Piedra de Toque” (“Touchstones”) that was printed in several newspapers.

Vargas Llosa came to be a fierce defender of personal and economic liberties, gradually edging away from his communism-linked past, and regularly attacked Latin American leftist leaders he viewed as dictators.

Although an early supporter of the Cuban revolution led by Fidel Castro, he grew disillusioned and denounced Castro’s Cuba. By 1980, he said he no longer believed in socialism as a solution for developing nations.

In a famous incident in Mexico City in 1976, Vargas Llosa punched fellow Nobel Prize winner and former friend García Márquez, whom he later ridiculed as “Castro’s courtesan.” It was never clear whether the fight was over politics or a personal dispute, as neither writer ever wanted to discuss it publicly.

As he slowly turned his political trajectory toward free-market conservatism, Vargas Llosa lost the support of many of his Latin American literary contemporaries and attracted much criticism even from admirers of his work.

Jorge Mario Pedro Vargas Llosa was born March 28, 1936, in the southern Peruvian city of Arequipa, high in the Andes at the foot of the Misti volcano.

His father, Ernesto Vargas Maldonado, left the family before he was born. To avoid public scandal, his mother, Dora Llosa Ureta, took her child to Bolivia, where her father was the Peruvian consul in Cochabamba.

Vargas Llosa said his early life was “somewhat traumatic,” pampered by his mother and grandmother in a large house with servants, his every whim granted.

It was not until he was 10, after the family had moved to the coastal city of Piura, Peru, that he learned his father was alive. His parents reconciled, and the family moved to Peru’s capital, Lima.

Vargas Llosa described his father as a disciplinarian who viewed his son’s love of Jules Verne and writing poetry as surefire routes to starvation, and feared for his “manhood,” believing that “poets are always homosexuals.”

After failing to get the boy enrolled in a naval academy because he was underage, Vargas Llosa’s father sent him to Leoncio Prado Military Academy — an experience that was to stay with Vargas Llosa and led to “The Time of the Hero.” The book won the Spanish Critics Award.

The military academy “was like discovering hell,” Vargas Llosa said later.

He entered Peru’s San Marcos University to study literature and law, “the former as a calling and the latter to please my family, which believed, not without certain cause, that writers usually die of hunger.”

After earning his literature degree in 1958 — he didn’t bother submitting his final law thesis — Vargas Llosa won a scholarship to pursue a doctorate in Madrid.

Vargas Llosa drew much of his inspiration from his Peruvian homeland but preferred to live abroad, residing for spells each year in Madrid, New York and Paris.

His early novels revealed a Peruvian world of military arrogance and brutality, of aristocratic decadence, and of Stone Age Amazon Indians existing simultaneously with 20th century urban blight.

“Peru is a kind of incurable illness and my relationship to it is intense, harsh and full of the violence of passion,” Vargas Llosa wrote in 1983.

After 16 years in Europe, he returned in 1974 to a Peru then ruled by a left-wing military dictatorship. “I realized I was losing touch with the reality of my country, and above all its language, which for a writer can be deadly,” he said.

In 1990, he ran for the presidency of Peru, a reluctant candidate in a nation torn apart by a messianic Maoist guerrilla insurgency and a basket-case, hyperinflation economy.

He was defeated by a then-unknown university rector, Alberto Fujimori, who resolved much of the political and economic chaos but went on to become a corrupt and authoritarian leader who would eventually be sent to prison.

Cuban writer Guillermo Cabrera Infante, Vargas Llosa’s longtime friend, later confessed that he had rooted against the writer’s candidacy, observing: “Peru’s uncertain gain would be literature’s loss. Literature is eternity, politics mere history.”

Vargas Llosa also used his literary talents to write several successful novels about the lives of real people, including French post-impressionist artist Paul Gauguin and his grandmother, Flora Tristan, in “The Way to Paradise” in 2003 and 19th century Irish nationalist and diplomat Roger Casement in “The Dream of the Celt” in 2010. His last published novel was “Harsh Times” (“Tiempos Recios”) in 2019 about the U.S.-backed coup d’etat in Guatemala in 1954.

He became a member of the Royal Spanish Academy in 1994 and held visiting professor and resident writer posts in more than a dozen colleges and universities across the world.

In his teens, Vargas Llosa joined a communist cell and eloped with a 33-year-old Bolivian, Julia Urquidi — the sister-in-law of his uncle. He later drew inspiration from their nine-year marriage to write the hit comic novel “Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter” (“La Tía Julia y el Escribidor”).

In 1965, he married his first cousin, Patricia Llosa, 10 years his junior, and together they had three children. They divorced 50 years later, and he started a relationship with Spanish society figure Isabel Preysler, former wife of singer Julio Iglesias and mother of singer Enrique Iglesias. They separated in 2022.

Vargas Llosa is survived by his children.

Briceño and Giles write for the Associated Press and reported from Lima and Madrid, respectively.

From first-time features by emerging U.S.-based talent to a star-studded production to a new look at one of the most beloved Mexican American music artists ever, the Latino films premiering at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival (which kicks off Thursday) offer a look into the future of stories about distinct Latino groups in this country, while also showing us a glimpse at new voices from Latin America. Below, you’ll find a list of seven films to keep an eye out for.

‘Kiss of the Spider Woman’

A musical reimagining of Manuel Puig’s novel, this high-profile title features Mexican star Diego Luna as Valentin, a political prisoner during Argentina’s Dirty War who develops an intimate connection with a fellow incarcerated man named Molina (newcomer Tonatiuh). Jennifer Lopez plays the titular spider woman. The source material had previously been adapted for the screen in the 1985 movie by late Brazilian director Héctor Babenco (which received four Oscar nominations), set during Brazil’s military dictatorship. “Dreamgirls” director Bill Condon spearheads this new take.

‘Mad Bills to Pay (or Destiny, dile que no soy malo)’

Dominican American filmmaker Joel Alfonso Vargas’ debut feature follows Rico (Juan Collado), a Bronx teenager who makes a living selling homemade alcoholic cocktails on the beach. But that hustle won’t be enough now that his girlfriend Destiny (Destiny Checo) is moving in with him and his family. Working with a cast of fresh faces, Vargas, a Bronx native, mixes scripted scenes and moments of improvisation in the pursuit of authenticity. Vargas, it seems, aims to depict this specific Latino community not as an outsider but as someone with strong ties to the places and people he’s putting on screen.

‘Magic Farm’

“El Planeta,” a Spain-set, black-and-white portrait of a mother and daughter’s warped relationship, introduce the irreverent and piercing humor of Argentine-born artist Amalia Ulman. Her sophomore effort takes her to South America via a culture-clash narrative following an American crew traveling to profile an Argentine musician. Their ineptitude complicates the journey, elucidating misconnections and cross-cultural exchanges. Ulman worked with a cast of American and Argentine actors, including Chloë Sevigny and Valeria Lois, in what promises to be a deeper dive into her singular worldview.

‘Rains Over Babel’

Described as “psychedelic” and a “steampunk fever-dream” by festival programmers, this Colombian debut from writer-director Gala del Sol unfolds inside a one-of-a-kind bar called Babel where an ensemble of audaciously memorable queer characters, each confronting their own personal baggage, have encounters with Death incarnate: an entity known as La Flaca. This boundary-pushing vision, inspired by Dante’s “Inferno,” appears vibrant and colorful in more ways than one. As far as Latin American queer stories go, Del Sol’s entry could prove to be truly unlike anything else we’ve seen on screen before.

‘Selena y Los Dinos’

What else can be said about an icon whose life, career and image have already been so intensely mined? Filmmaker Isabel Castro (“Mija”) dares to offer a new look at the rise and short-lived glory of the now legendary Tejano artist Selena Quintanilla, as well as her siblings and parents, who made music their family business. The documentary features previously unseen footage, but what’s most intriguing is whether Castro, a nonfiction storyteller focused on Mexican American narratives, will be able to do something distinct with the material considering the protective Quintanilla clan served as executive producers.

‘Serious People’

Back in 2023, the Mexican American filmmaking duo Cliqua — comprised of Pasqual Gutiérrez and Raúl Sanchez — debuted the short film “Shut Up & Fish,” which revolved around the “Edgar” haircut popular among young Latino men. Now the two star together in a quasi-autobiographical fiction about Pascual, a music director on the rise who is about to become a father. As the demands of these two facets of his life become overwhelming, he decides to hire a doppelgänger to take over his professional commitments. But the results are less than ideal. Gutiérrez co-directs this feature debut with Ben Mullinkosson.

‘The Virgin of the Quarry Lake’

Marking the first time the terrifying short story by acclaimed Argentine author Mariana Enríquez has been adapted for the screen, this coming-of-age narrative is set against the seismic economic crisis that afflicted Argentina in the early 2000s and tracks a troubling romantic entanglement between a group of teenagers. Among them, Natalia (Dolores Oliverio), the adolescent protagonist insecure about an older girl getting the attention of the boy she likes, begins to explore her growing carnal desires while tapping into the otherworldly. The premise points to what could be an intriguing take on familiar tropes.

When Patrick Vargas was a 5-foot-4 starting quarterback for Garfield High in 2008, the Bulldogs stunned City Section power Birmingham 29-28 in their season opener.

Now, at age 32, Vargas is taking over as Garfield’s new football coach, replacing Lorenzo Hernandez, and he’s embracing all the lessons learned about overcoming obstacles and understanding the tradition of excellence at Garfield.

“It’s a dream come true for me, being a kid from East L.A.,” he said. “Garfield has always been the place I wanted to be, first as a football player, then as a coach. What coach Hernandez did was change the program for the better. What I want to do is continue with that leadership and do my best to take it to the next level.”

He’s also going to inherit a new turf football field under construction. …

For the third straight year, Sadie Engelhardt of Ventura has been named the Gatorade state player of the year in girls cross country.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email [email protected].

“The first two panels really represent, I believe, the player,” Vargas said. “And the third panel represents more of the man, as he is looking towards Dodger Stadium and he tips his hat towards Dodger Stadium to say thank you, to say farewell, to say welcome into the neighborhood. That gesture says so much.”

Vargas started painting the mural on the morning of Oct. 22. Valenzuela died later that day. Vargas worked diligently over the next 10 days — sometimes not bothering to eat or sleep — to have the first two panels done by the Nov. 3 unveiling. The third panel was finished a week later.

“It really became a community mural where people were there, hundreds of people were there every single day if you add them all up as I was painting that mural,” Vargas said. “And it became a real source of comfort, a source of discussion, a source of culture, cultural pride.

“So it wasn’t necessarily solely a memorial or just an altar but also a celebration of who we are as a people and what we can achieve if you persevere and apply yourself. It was so much more than just a static image on the wall. And I understood that, which is why I put in the kind of hours that I did.”

Among the frequent visitors to his work site, Vargas said, was Valenzuela’s wife, Linda, and other family members of the Dodgers pitcher. Vargas attended the Nov. 6 public funeral Mass, where he said one of Valenzuela’s sons mentioned the mural during his speech.

“This mural obviously really resonated for them,” Vargas said. “His wife, Linda, told me that Fernando is in that mural, that she sees him 100%. She was very, very kind and the family has been extremely gracious. I’m just humbled to be able to paint that and do right by them.”

Rain is coming in south San Diego, which means higher water levels in the polluted Tijuana River — and, potentially, even worse air quality.

Now, residents worry that the home air filters newly provided by San Diego County won’t be enough to curb the noxious air from the rising river.

And despite increased federal and state attention in recent weeks, local officials and residents say that solutions are still elusive and distant in the wake of the November elections and Gov. Gavin Newsom’s refusal to declare a state of emergency over the situation.

Last month, Newsom visited the decrepit facilities at the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant in San Diego and the refurbished San Antonio de los Buenos plant in Baja California for the first time.

After years of deferred maintenance, the plant in San Diego received an additional $103 million in the 2024 federal budget for repairs that will take years. The Baja plant is expected to start processing sewage soon, and once both plants are online and fully operational, sewage flows are expected to be reduced by 90%.

Other federal agencies are also investigating the health concerns of nearby residents who have been suffering respiratory illnesses and unexplained stomach bugs. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention arrived last month to conduct a health survey. Local officials and more than 500 residents have signed a petition asking the Environmental Protection Agency to declare the river a Superfund site and look into the presence of hazardous waste in the riverbed.

“Thanks to our partnership with international, federal, and local partners, we are making real progress,” Newsom said in a statement last month after his visit.

For its part, the county Board of Supervisors voted last month to purchase $2.7 million worth of air purifiers for residents, with the money ultimately coming from the California Air Resources Board.

Unanswered calls for a state of emergency

Some critics argue that the politicians haven’t acted with the necessary sense of urgency. Newsom met with Baja Gov. Marina del Pilar Ávila Olmeda, San Diego County Supervisor Nora Vargas and the International Boundary Waste and Water Commission, but local officials and residents felt snubbed.

“It feels like it was just a photo op,” said Marcus Bush, a council member for National City and a member of the Air Pollution Control District who signed the petition to the EPA. No San Diego County mayors or media outlets were invited to Newsom’s news briefing; when asked, the governor’s office offered no explanation.

“I would like to give our governor the benefit of the doubt,” Bush said, but added, “Why aren’t you taking calls or info?” He wondered aloud whether Newsom was dodging questions about his refusal to declare a state of emergency for the region.

Gov. Gavin Newsom, in blue shirt, meets with officials in San Diego on Oct. 28, 2024.

(Courtesy of Supervisor Nora Vargas)

All 18 San Diego County mayors signed a letter this year asking Newsom to declare a state of emergency. The California Coastal Commission also voted unanimously to ask the Biden administration to declare a federal state of emergency, but under federal law, such requests must come from the governor. Newsom has rebuffed those entreaties, and the White House seems no closer to making any significant moves forward.

In letters addressing the California Coastal Commission and mayors of San Diego County, Newsom’s office asserted that declaring a federal state of emergency would not accelerate the repairs needed at the sewage plant. The office also said that it did not consider the situation at the river to fit the definition of a natural disaster under federal law.

Residents have argued that a state of emergency could bring the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to clean up and divert the river. Last year, heavy rainstorms washed into the river thousands of tons of debris that took nearly five months to clear and broke several pumps in the sewage system. Some have asked for more efficient trash skimmers that could help prevent waste from clogging the treatment plant.

“Everyone agrees that raw sewage in a river is an environmental and health emergency in crisis, but [Newsom and Vargas] are also actively doing things that undermine the emergency,” Bush said.

The Superfund split

Muddying matters further, the county supervisors voted last month to delay consideration of a petition asking the EPA to declare the river a Superfund site. Vargas, who represents the south San Diego district most affected by the noxious odors, voted in favor of the delay.

The petition was introduced by Supervisor Terra Lawson-Remer, who represents the area along the coast just north of the Tijuana River’s mouth. After the vote, Lawson-Remer joined other local officials to file the petition anyway.

“I moved forward because I think it’s urgent,” she said in an interview. It “would be nice for the Board of Supervisors as a whole to act, but it’s not necessary.”

In the board meeting last month, Lawson-Remer said she was concerned about more pollutants in the river than just sewage. Toxic chemicals and heavy metals have been detected that could be leaching into the sediment — something local officials are not equipped to clean up on their own. A petition is the first step in a lengthy process that could take years, even if the EPA decides the river is eligible for a Superfund designation.

Vargas did not agree to be interviewed. But in the Board Meeting and in public statements, she cited concerns that moving too hastily to petition the EPA could negatively affect property values and local businesses.

The Voice of San Diego news site reported that Vargas voted against the EPA petition out of concern that a Superfund designation could halt her project to clean up the South Bay to create parks for underserved communities.

“I support the spirit of this board letter,” Vargas said last month. But “this has the potential to delay local efforts already in progress and negatively affect the limited recreational space that we already have in South County.”

The board voted voted 3 to 2 to extend consideration of the petition by 90 days and have the county gather feedback and information.

Lawson-Remer said the reasons Vargas cited for the delay don’t hold water. “The health of our families and health of our children is by far the No. 1 concern,” she said. “Property values are secondary.”

An uncertain future

Imperial Beach Mayor Paloma Aguirre has been to the White House twice to speak with Brenda Mallory, the chair of President Biden’s Council on Environmental Quality, to ask for assistance. She plans to make one last plea in person next month.

President-elect Donald Trump previously authorized $300 million to stop the cross-border pollution as part of the U.S-Mexico-Canada trade agreement in 2020. But Trump’s vow to cut federal budgets when he takes office in 2025 has Aguirre concerned about a reduction in disaster relief funding. Lee Zeldin, Trump’s choice to lead the EPA, is also expected to scale back regulations.

“If he dismantles the EPA … good luck to all of us, because I don’t know what the strategy will be,” Aguirre said.

A damaged local economy

Meanwhile, residents say that the pollution has already hurt the local economy. Visitors to Imperial Beach have steadily fallen with beach closures due to the contamination, according to numbers provided by the mayor’s office — to just under 700,000 in 2023 from 2.1 million in 2018.

Local restaurateur Gabriel Uribe has run Baja Oyster and Sushi Bar for 25 years in Imperial Beach, a few miles from his ranch, where he also hosts outdoor parties for quinceaneras and graduations.

Guests have left Uribe’s parties early because the air reeks of rotten eggs, he said, and the air filters from the county won’t solve all his problems. “That is like just a Band-Aid on a wound that needs stitching,” he added.

Uribe, who signed the EPA petition, worries that his property’s value could be affected if a Superfund site is declared, or even that his property could be taken through eminent domain. But he wants officials to act urgently to address his health concerns.

“My chest is wheezing. I have an irregular heartbeat,” said Uribe, who’s gone to the emergency room because he couldn’t breathe.

Deborah Vance, who runs a real estate agency in Imperial Beach, said her business has already been affected by the pollution as prospective buyers have been unwilling to purchase property in the city. She struggled to sell four listings in Imperial Beach this last year, a slowdown that had been unheard of in the past.

“It’s beyond impactful,” she said of the pollution. All of the agents who worked with her, she added, have quit or moved on. “It’s devastating.”

Robert Vargas had barely wrapped up his first day of work on a Boyle Heights mural honoring Fernando Valenzuela on Tuesday night when he heard the news that the beloved Dodgers pitcher had died at age 63.

“I still had my harness on,” Vargas said early Wednesday. “I wasn’t very far away [from the mural site]. I was having dinner after leaving there, so I returned to the wall just to feel connected to the space that I’ve already developed the relationship with as I’m about to paint this.

“Now it takes on even a greater meaning. It’s still a celebration of a remarkable life, but it also now becomes an altar.”

The Los Angeles-based artist found that out immediately upon returning to his work site at an apartment building a block west of Mariachi Plaza.

“There were news crews already there,” he said. “ And there were even friends who came by with marigolds, which are the flowers for the Day of the Dead altars.”

Valenzuela came from a small town in Mexico and became an MLB sensation with the Dodgers in 1981, when he sparked the cultural phenomenon known as “Fernandomania” and helped L.A. defeat the New York Yankees in the World Series.

“I was a kid when all of this was happening and I just know that he is someone that is inspiring to not only the Latin culture, but many cultures,” said Vargas, whose mural is titled, “Fernando Mania Forever.” “He’s just an inspiring figure that did some amazing things no matter where he came from.”

A member of the Dodgers broadcast team since 2003, Valenzuela was absent from the Spanish-language broadcasts near the end of the regular season. On Oct. 2, the Dodgers announced that Valenzuela had “stepped away from the Dodger broadcast booth for the remainder of this year to focus on his health.”

In a video filmed Tuesday night at the future mural site and later posted on his Instagram stories, an emotional Vargas struggled to come up with words to express how he felt about the passing of such a significant figure for himself and so many others.

“I really was hoping that he would come out of his situation,” Vargas told The Times on Wednesday. “I was really anticipating possibly him seeing [the mural]. I just feel like a part of my childhood is gone.”

He added: “I’m just putting all the emotion into that wall.”

Vargas said he conceived of the idea of a Valenzuela mural in Boyle Heights earlier this year while painting a mural of current Dodgers superstar Shohei Ohtani on the side of the Miyako Hotel in Little Tokyo. Located just a little more than a mile from each other, the two murals are connected by the 1st Street bridge, as well as the stories of the players and the communities they represent.

Artist Robert Vargas stands in front of the Boyle Heights building where he is painting a mural honoring Dodgers legend Fernando Valenzuela.

(Chuck Schilken / Los Angeles Times)

“It’s my way of promoting and advocating for unity and representation where these communities can see heroes that look like them,” Vargas said. “At the same time under the umbrella of the Dodgers, the whole city can get behind this, because it’s all about advancing the collective forward, which is really oneness.”

The Ohtani mural is larger than life, to say the least, and Vargas has similar plans for his Valenzuela tribute. The wall has three panels, so Vargas will paint three separate images of Valenzuela pitching for an overall mural he estimates will be more than 50-feet tall and 70-feet wide.

“So now the 1st Street bridge is metaphorically the unity bridge because these two murals bookend each other and face each other,” Vargas said. “If you are on the 1st Street bridge and you are looking in both directions, you can see both murals.”

The unveiling will be Nov. 1, a date Vargas originally chose because it is Valenzuela’s birthday and it falls on Día de Muertos. It also just so happens that if Game 6 of the Dodgers-Yankees World Series is necessary, it will take place at Dodger Stadium that evening.

That doesn’t leave Vargas much time to complete the piece, especially considering he’s doing all the painting.

“I’m painting it completely freehand,” said Vargas, who plans to work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day until it’s done. “My process is no grids, no projections, all with a brush, so it’s completely free form. But when you’re painting with passion and intention for the greater good and to represent the community here, it’s like a stream of consciousness.”

Early Wednesday, Vargas said he hoped to have almost a third of the mural done by the end of the day, stating that Valenzuela’s death only “amplifies its importance.”

“I’m seeing it through in a way that is healing now — not only for myself, but I actually believe for the city to have this image up,” Vargas said.

Vargas is inviting the public to come to the site Wednesday after 1 p.m. to help construct marigolds out of fabric and make the mural “the largest ofrenda ever.”

“I’m going to have these symbolic marigolds all the way around the building on the surface of the wall, like you would see in an altarpiece for the Day of the Dead,” Vargas said. “And that will frame the wall or the surface while I paint the inside of that with the original design idea. It will be something that eventually will be removed. People can come and help construct them. I think that will be also a form of healing for people.”