Staff Reports
Walk past Randy’s Donuts in Inglewood and you feel the weight of an American institution: a 1950s roadside symbol that has survived for decades, beloved by locals and tourists alike. That history is real, and so is the outrage many feel when they see that iconic spot being treated like just another corporate asset.
Instead of protecting that hometown treasure, the Randy’s brand is spreading its wings across the country — popping up in Phoenix and signing deals to open in the Bay Area and beyond — while the original remains a photo op surrounded by the chaos of modern big-city life. This expansion is being celebrated by business press, but to many patriots it’s a sign that businesses are chasing friendlier markets and franchising the soul out of what once belonged to the neighborhood.
The company itself is changing, too: Randy’s has broadened its menu with new drinks and franchised concepts that feel less like a local mom-and-pop and more like a national brand chasing margins. When a hometown staple starts selling boba and milkshakes across multiple states, you have to ask whether the original character is being sacrificed on the altar of expansion.
Meanwhile, Los Angeles still grapples with homelessness and public-safety problems that make it harder for small businesses to thrive, even as city officials trumpet modest declines in unsheltered populations. Yes, recent counts show a small drop, but tens of thousands remain without shelter, and many business owners report the daily realities of encampments and disorder that scare away customers.
It’s reasonable to infer — and we should say plainly — that business owners look at that environment and decide to grow where customers and safety are more certain. Randy’s national roll-out is not just a success story for franchising; it’s a quiet indictment of a coastal policy culture that favors slogans over security. That inference lines up with the facts: expansion announcements and opening ceremonies outside California show where entrepreneurs see opportunity.
Conservative Americans should be furious about this for two reasons: first, because our cultural landmarks deserve protection and respect, not the slow hollowing-out that comes from mismanaged cities; second, because hardworking business owners must have safe streets and sensible local policies if they’re expected to keep historic places alive. If we won’t stand up for Main Street and the icons that brand our communities, who will?
So here’s the bottom line: support the bakers, the owners, and the legacy that built Randy’s Donuts into an American symbol. Push your elected officials to prioritize the safety and stability that let family businesses survive, and refuse to let our landmarks be turned into franchised souvenirs while the place that created them corrodes. This is about pride, community, and the kind of common-sense governance that actually protects what we love.
