{"id":643078,"date":"2026-03-09T11:31:50","date_gmt":"2026-03-09T11:31:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/643078\/"},"modified":"2026-03-09T11:31:50","modified_gmt":"2026-03-09T11:31:50","slug":"the-l-a-newsstands-that-are-still-standing-and-the-people-behind-them","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/643078\/","title":{"rendered":"The L.A. newsstands that are still standing and the people behind them"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Customers \"img_dropcap_Bibliophile_i.png\" <\/p>\n

In the midst of roaring buses, crisscrossing skaters and streetwear devotees lies a portal on Fairfax Avenue.<\/p>\n

Between a thrift store and a synagogue, the gateway to a past decade when time moved more slowly beckons. A bedazzled sign pasted to the wall reads, \u201cMagazines?!\u201d Serendipitously, a passerby says, \u201cWow, they still have these?\u201d<\/p>\n

Once, a newsstand was a working Angeleno\u2019s morning tradition: their daily copy of, say, the L.A. Times, as essential as an espresso. Today, newsstands are rare gems we stumble upon, reminders of the connection we feel when we flip through a magazine, or meet a stranger. The feeling they stir is comparable to that of a record store, where the weight of vinyl remains a comfort even as streaming services provide instant music. Newsstands are no longer our main source of information, yet they\u2019ve evolved into a place of fascination.<\/p>\n

This particular stand on Fairfax is one of L.A.\u2019s oldest, Kosher News<\/a>. First opened in 1950, its current owner Erez Da Costa lived around the corner for years and considered the newsstand a landmark in his neighborhood. When it closed in 2004, he says he interrupted the old owners\u2019 quarrel with the landlord to buy the stand and bring it back to life.<\/p>\n

After a postwar boom, newsstands became an in-demand and seemingly eternal facet of L.A. street corners, with dozens of locations and distributors slowly consolidating<\/a> from the \u201870s through the \u201890s. The early 2000s were a curious time to be a newsstand owner, Da Costa explains, as American news evolved from paper to the internet seemingly overnight, and L.A. neighborhoods changed with the digital age. Fairfax, for instance, was transitioning from a collection of sleepy Jewish-owned businesses to a streetwear mecca \u2014 Kosher witnessed it all. Every decade came with its challenges, which caused newsstand numbers to dwindle. On top of the internet, the 2010s had a city ordinance<\/a> that prevented newsstands from selling food and drinks, which Da Costa notes was an important source of side income for many. Then, there was COVID-19. Not much more needs to be said on that. Through it all, newsstands in L.A. persisted.<\/p>\n

\"The \"Kosher <\/p>\n

Kosher News employee Tito Estrada.<\/p>\n

\"Regular <\/p>\n

Regular customer, Matt, looks at magazines.<\/p>\n

\"The <\/p>\n

The Kosher News. Keegan, left, and Montana look at magazines.<\/p>\n

\"The \"\u201cThere\u2019s <\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no other place where I could be outside and meet so many different people who teach me something.\u201d <\/p>\n

Kosher News manager Tito Estrada has remained a consistent warm presence at the newsstand for 20 years. Estrada, framed at the register by detergents and a stack of the New York Times as dog-walkers and scene kids browse in the dusky afternoon, is an anthropologist of sorts. He learns about people at the newsstand through their passing conversations and complaints as they stop for a paper or a snack. \u201cI love being here,\u201d Estrada says. \u201cThere\u2019s no other place where I could be outside and meet so many different people who teach me something. I learn so much every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the counter of L.A.\u2019s newsstands, regulars and strangers congregate for Sunday headlines or their favorite musician\u2019s Rolling Stone feature. \u201cNewsstands were always meeting places,\u201d says Marck Sarfati, former owner of Brentwood Newsstand. \u201cSome customers would just get what they needed and go, but others lingered \u2026 they talked to me, ran into their friends or looked up and saw Tommy Chong standing next to them.\u201d <\/p>\n

There\u2019s a moment of stillness that comes when you\u2019re under a newsstand awning, often sun-bleached from the Southern California brilliance. The sound of rushing cars fades into the gentle fluttering of pages in the wind. Chemically buzzing fluorescent lights illuminate the crinkled plastic over fashion magazines. A scent of fresh paper melts into that of aged wooden shelves. Places in L.A. that allow us to tap into our senses are scarce. In a town of new builds and shuttering mom and pops, so few places feel well-loved, well-used and filled with history. Angelenos are never not moving. But here in front of a newsstand, instead of rushing against traffic or dancing tirelessly to their friends\u2019 DJ set, they take a pause. <\/p>\n

\"Customers <\/p>\n

Customers look at magazines with owner Nathan Shields, right.<\/p>\n

\"Malibu <\/p>\n

Malibu Newsstand. A customer reads the headlines of The New York Times.<\/p>\n

\"Malibu <\/p>\n

Malibu Newsstand. A customer looks at magazines.<\/p>\n

\"A <\/p>\n

\u201cIt really is a luxury now, to have a moment to stand here and look over the pages.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Malibu <\/p>\n

Malibu Newsstand. California Towels and T Shirts are sold next to magazines.<\/p>\n

\"Portrait <\/p>\n

Portrait of Malibu Newsstand owner Nathan Shields. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to stop to read,\u201d Nathan Shields, owner of Malibu Newsstand<\/a>, says. \u201cIt really is a luxury now, to have a moment to stand here and look over the pages.\u201d<\/p>\n

While each L.A. newsstand owner may have started differently, they hold a common thread: They believe in the power of the printed word. The stories we flip through in their magazines, newspapers and zines are grounding in a city where everyone is on the grind. Our scopes narrow, and for a moment, we\u2019re across from Teyana Taylor talking Oscars , or backstage at this season\u2019s most celebrated fashion show. Holding a magazine, we are transported to places we otherwise couldn\u2019t access, where we are always VIP and the doors are always open. This total immersion is impossible in the digital world, where glimpses to other lives are too fleeting to be deeply experienced.<\/p>\n

Shields calls physical media a slow indulgence, while on our phones: \u201cIt\u2019s a serotonin hit \u2014 bang, bang, bang.\u201d<\/p>\n

Physical books and magazines litter the shelves of my 20-something friends more than ever while shops like Climax, with locations in New York and London, have built an entire community around archival books and ephemera. Is it nostalgia, or are we finally tired of the faces and stories overloading our phones and reaching for something that, once familiar, is now almost foreign? <\/p>\n

Evan Mader, owner of Mader News<\/a> and Beverly Hills Newsstand<\/a>, is seeing a revival too. \u201cI\u2019ve enjoyed seeing a renaissance in new publications coming out. We were sort of stagnant there, a few years back, and now we\u2019re seeing a lot more energy and growth,\u201d Mader says. \u201cPeople also go to newsstands for ideas in their work, I\u2019ve noticed more lately. Fashion designers, architects and others come for inspiration.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Beverly \"Beverly <\/p>\n

Beverly Hills Newsstand. Portraits of Eduardo \u201cEddie\u201d Becerril, left, and Glenn \u201cMaxwell\u201d Martin.<\/p>\n

\"Customers <\/p>\n

Customers Sonam Tsering (L) and Trinley Tsering (R) browsing magazines at Beverly Hills Newsstand. <\/p>\n

\"Beverly \"The <\/p>\n

The cash register at the Beverly Hills Newsstand.<\/p>\n

\"Beverly <\/p>\n

Is it nostalgia, or are we finally tired of the faces and stories overloading our phones and reaching for something that, once familiar, is now almost foreign? <\/p>\n

As Shields and I chat in the palm-tree-framed structure of Malibu Newsstand, an ocean breeze from nearby sifting the magazines, I get a taste of his daily cast of characters. A group of bikers talk out front when I arrive, and as they rumble off into the street, their spot is replaced by a smiling older man. \u201cToday\u2019s paper, please,\u201d he says, handing over crisp dollar bills. He introduces himself as Sam Mann, and when I ask him what about this newsstand keeps him coming back, he replies, \u201cWell, frankly, it\u2019s the only one around.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shields and Mann laugh together.<\/p>\n

\u201cReally, when these guys are in trouble, we all chip in,\u201d Mann says. \u201cThey\u2019re community.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malibu Newsstand closed for some time after last year\u2019s Palisades fire, which ravaged much of the small population and caused longtime customers to move away. When the fires shut down the Pacific Coast Highway, the delivery route into Malibu, Shields himself drove into the Valley for months to retrieve shipments. At one point, he could see the flames on the mountain from his register. The newsstand he\u2019s had for 30 years probably wouldn\u2019t have made it through, he says, if not for the neighbors who pitched in to keep his business afloat.<\/p>\n

When Sarfati\u2019s Brentwood Newsstand lost its lease with a neighboring Whole Foods, 6,000 customers<\/a> signed his petition to renew. His last newsstand after owning many through L.A. since \u201883, Sarfati felt a particular soul-tie to the business. There was the tradition of organizing magazine stacks and greeting his regulars, but also the memorable days, like hosting Playboy signings with the cover Bunny and watching a line of UCLA boys form around the corner.<\/p>\n

Above the Fold, a longtime Larchmont fixture, also lost a lease last summer, which struck the community like a gut punch. Among hundreds of goodbyes on social media, one regular eulogized it this way:<\/a> \u201cIt\u2019s like my church burned down.\u201d <\/p>\n

Despite Brentwood Newsstand eventually closing, it was a place Angelenos came to see history happen. \u201cBy far the busiest day I can remember was after 9\/11,\u201d Sarfati says. \u201cI remember we went down at 3 in the morning, cut the bales of magazines and people were just grabbing from the stacks. We literally couldn\u2019t even get them on the stands.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even now, Sarfati keeps a 9\/11 Time magazine, among other historical issues, on his coffee table, as an archive to share with his kids. \u201cIn times we don\u2019t want to forget,\u201d Sarfati says. \u201cWe document it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Sheltams \"Portrait \"Customers <\/p>\n

Newsstands are reminders of our past, tucked into the city\u2019s pursuit of modernity.<\/p>\n

\"Sheltams \"Portrait <\/p>\n

Portrait of Jack Alghannam, cashier at Sheltams. <\/p>\n

\"Sheltams <\/p>\n

Newsstands are reminders of our past, tucked into the city\u2019s pursuit of modernity \u2014 no place better reminds us of this like the 50-year-old newsstand alongside the Grove. With a two-story Brandy Melville, pricey athleisure, and influencer pop-ups, the Grove is synonymous with L.A. Instagram culture. I stand in front of it with Paul Sobel, the owner of Sheltams<\/a> newsstand, who gestures out to the sprawling mall and says, \u201cI remember when this was all just a parking lot.\u201d<\/p>\n

We meet for coffee in the Original Farmers Market, which first opened in 1934; he calls it his \u201cgathering place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sheltams is deeply personal. It\u2019s where the now 70-year-old Sobel met his wife, where his kids came after school and where they learned to drive in the parking lot. The community and printed word that newsstands stand for, he says, is \u201cindelible,\u201d an ink that won\u2019t fade, because it\u2019s part of L.A. tradition.<\/p>\n

Sobel, and his newsstand, are indelible too.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe and this newsstand grew up together,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m just going to kind of hang out until I\u2019m not hanging out anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n

These days, newsstands can be many things: Quiet places that remind us of the universal act of documenting and sharing. Somewhere we bear witness to the beauty of fleeting moments. Points of bright-eyed inspiration. And for a place (and a town) so dedicated to sharing photographs, it also serves as the ultimate mirror. The longer we look, the more that our shared essence stares right back. <\/p>\n

\"Paul <\/p>\n

\u201cMe and this newsstand grew up together. I\u2019m just going to kind of hang out until I\u2019m not hanging out anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n