latimes--2020-06-13--Column: Defund the police? California is trying to hire more cannabis cops

Now about that promise to address structural racism .
It hasn ’ t even been two weeks since Gov .
Gavin Newsom , shaken by a night of violent upheaval over the death of George Floyd , stood in front of a camera at a black church in Sacramento and told all of us Californians that government had a duty to fix what was broken .
“ The black community is not responsible for what is happening in this country right now , ” he said .
“ We are .
Our institutions are accountable.
” And yet , at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” has become the mantra for those demanding justice for black lives , state lawmakers are getting ready to pass , and Newsom is presumably getting ready to sign , a budget bill that would shift dozens of sworn law enforcement officers to the Bureau of Cannabis Control — and make way for hiring more .
In all , a consolidated force of about 90 people will be tasked with uprooting California ’ s illegal cannabis market .
Of that number , more than half already work as sworn officers and managers for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Investigation Cannabis Enforcement Unit .
The rest account for open positions , including about 30 jobs for special investigators that will be reclassified for sworn law enforcement officers .
Newsom ’ s administration insists the intent of the bill isn ’ t to turn non-sworn investigators into sworn officers .
Rather , the language of it was necessary because the Bureau of Cannabis Control didn ’ t have any officers on staff and needed the additional authority to take them on .
No one needs to remind anyone — especially Newsom , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of equity — how we got here in the first place .
California , like the rest of the U.S. , spent years fighting a racist drug war driven by years of over-policing black neighborhoods , leaving us with an even more inequitable criminal justice system .
That said , I actually wouldn ’ t have a problem with this bit of bureaucratic budget magic if these were normal times , instead of one when the social safety net for the state ’ s most vulnerable residents is being ripped to shreds .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ for additional officers , all working together under one agency to take down the worst scofflaws .
However , we ’ re also spending on law enforcement while programs designed to help black and brown entrepreneurs , many of them from neighborhoods devastated by the war on drugs and now reeling from the coronavirus , have been allowed to flounder in almost every major city in this state .
It ’ s just one more sign that California ’ s whole legal weed industry is a mess .
Ever since the first recreational @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have been dogged by an ecosystem of illegal retailers and growers .
Last year alone , according to an estimate by BDS Analytics and Arcview Market Research , operators working in the shadows made $ 8.7 billion , while the sellers who were following the rules made $ 3.1 billion .
On the ground , that has meant a disparate group of cops at all levels of government are ferreting lawbreaking dispensaries and sophisticated honey oil labs .
The 25 or so sworn officers now working for the Department of Consumer Affairs — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Cannabis Control — have had to handle hundreds of cases across California , most of them in Los Angeles County .
Angelenos , I ’ m sure , are not surprised .
“ It ’ s way out of control , ” said George Tiongson , president of the California Assn .
of Criminal Investigators , an affiliate of the union representing the cannabis enforcement officers .
“ Every time we shut a location down , they either reopen the next day or a day later , and then we have to go @ @ @ @ @ @ @ takes three or four times.
” Meanwhile , many would-be black and brown cannabis entrepreneurs are still getting jerked around , many of them losing their savings in process .
Many cities have promoted their equity programs .
But it wasn ’ t until earlier this year that several cities and counties received funding for grants from the state ’ s Cannabis Equity Grants Program .
But getting those dollars out the door has been a challenge — to say the least .
And a number of cities are still trying to run @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , creating all sorts of problems .
In Los Angeles , for example , a group sued the city in April , arguing that a process to secure a limited number of licenses was “ flawed.
” Hundreds of applicants had flooded an online system in September , only to find out later that some applicants got in ahead of the official launch time .
An audit later cleared city officials of wrongdoing , saying they took “ reasonable and appropriate ” steps to prevent any unfair advantage .
But it was just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been a series of them .
In Sacramento , the city ’ s equity program sputtered and finally stalled for months amid bickering between City Council members , entrepreneurs and activists .
More recently , there have been dust-ups over expanding licensing , given the longstanding cap on dispensaries .
There also has been pressure to provide business training to all who want and need it .
In San Francisco , a recent report from the city ’ s Office of the Controller uncovered a sizeable backlog of equity applicants .
The report @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a license , it would over-saturate the city ’ s cannabis retail market , particularly given the large number of existing businesses that are already operating because they had the money to get going months ago .
It ’ s not enough to provide more law enforcement officers to crack down on bad actors .
We also have to do more to figure out a way to empower those who want to be good actors , and to do it sooner rather than later — especially if California officials want to win @ @ @ @ @ @ @ police .
I want the legal market to succeed as much as anyone else in California .
But it should be equitable , not dominated by wealthy , mostly white investors .
Black and brown cannabis entrepreneurs shouldn ’ t still be waiting .
As Newsom said in that Sacramento church : “ We have a unique responsibility to the black community in this country , and we ’ ve been paying lip service about that for generations .
”

Now about that promise to address structural racism.
It hasn’t even been two weeks since Gov. Gavin Newsom, shaken by a night of violent upheaval over the death of George Floyd, stood in front of a camera at a black church in Sacramento and told all of us Californians that government had a duty to fix what was broken.
“The black community is not responsible for what is happening in this country right now,” he said. “We are. Our institutions are accountable.”
And yet, at a time when “defund the police” has become the mantra for those demanding justice for black lives, state lawmakers are getting ready to pass, and Newsom is presumably getting ready to sign, a budget bill that would shift dozens of sworn law enforcement officers to the Bureau of Cannabis Control — and make way for hiring more.
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× Nationwide, protesters and activists have been calling to “defund the police.” But what does it actually mean? And why are so many people calling for it to happen?
In all, a consolidated force of about 90 people will be tasked with uprooting California’s illegal cannabis market.
Of that number, more than half already work as sworn officers and managers for the Department of Consumer Affairs’ Division of Investigation Cannabis Enforcement Unit. The rest account for open positions, including about 30 jobs for special investigators that will be reclassified for sworn law enforcement officers.
Newsom’s administration insists the intent of the bill isn’t to turn non-sworn investigators into sworn officers. Rather, the language of it was necessary because the Bureau of Cannabis Control didn’t have any officers on staff and needed the additional authority to take them on.
But still.
No one needs to remind anyone — especially Newsom, who championed cannabis legalization as a form of equity — how we got here in the first place. California, like the rest of the U.S., spent years fighting a racist drug war driven by years of over-policing black neighborhoods, leaving us with an even more inequitable criminal justice system.
That said, I actually wouldn’t have a problem with this bit of bureaucratic budget magic if these were normal times, instead of one when the social safety net for the state’s most vulnerable residents is being ripped to shreds.
Advertisement
I don’t doubt the need for additional officers, all working together under one agency to take down the worst scofflaws. However, we’re also spending on law enforcement while programs designed to help black and brown entrepreneurs, many of them from neighborhoods devastated by the war on drugs and now reeling from the coronavirus, have been allowed to flounder in almost every major city in this state.
It’s just one more sign that California’s whole legal weed industry is a mess.
Ever since the first recreational cannabis shops opened in 2018, they have been dogged by an ecosystem of illegal retailers and growers. Last year alone, according to an estimate by BDS Analytics and Arcview Market Research, operators working in the shadows made $8.7 billion, while the sellers who were following the rules made $3.1 billion.
On the ground, that has meant a disparate group of cops at all levels of government are ferreting lawbreaking dispensaries and sophisticated honey oil labs. The 25 or so sworn officers now working for the Department of Consumer Affairs — soon to be under the Bureau of Cannabis Control — have had to handle hundreds of cases across California, most of them in Los Angeles County.
Angelenos, I’m sure, are not surprised.
“It’s way out of control,” said George Tiongson, president of the California Assn. of Criminal Investigators, an affiliate of the union representing the cannabis enforcement officers. “Every time we shut a location down, they either reopen the next day or a day later, and then we have to go shut them down again. It usually takes three or four times.”
Meanwhile, many would-be black and brown cannabis entrepreneurs are still getting jerked around, many of them losing their savings in process.
Many cities have promoted their equity programs. But it wasn’t until earlier this year that several cities and counties received funding for grants from the state’s Cannabis Equity Grants Program. But getting those dollars out the door has been a challenge — to say the least. And a number of cities are still trying to run these equity programs on shoestring administrative budgets, creating all sorts of problems.
In Los Angeles, for example, a group sued the city in April, arguing that a process to secure a limited number of licenses was “flawed.” Hundreds of applicants had flooded an online system in September, only to find out later that some applicants got in ahead of the official launch time. An audit later cleared city officials of wrongdoing, saying they took “reasonable and appropriate” steps to prevent any unfair advantage. But it was just one more confusing delay in what has been a series of them.
In Sacramento, the city’s equity program sputtered and finally stalled for months amid bickering between City Council members, entrepreneurs and activists. More recently, there have been dust-ups over expanding licensing, given the longstanding cap on dispensaries. There also has been pressure to provide business training to all who want and need it.
In San Francisco, a recent report from the city’s Office of the Controller uncovered a sizeable backlog of equity applicants. The report warned that if every applicant was approved for a license, it would over-saturate the city’s cannabis retail market, particularly given the large number of existing businesses that are already operating because they had the money to get going months ago.
It’s not enough to provide more law enforcement officers to crack down on bad actors. We also have to do more to figure out a way to empower those who want to be good actors, and to do it sooner rather than later — especially if California officials want to win over activists who want to defund the police.
I want the legal market to succeed as much as anyone else in California. But it should be equitable, not dominated by wealthy, mostly white investors. Black and brown cannabis entrepreneurs shouldn’t still be waiting.
As Newsom said in that Sacramento church: “We have a unique responsibility to the black community in this country, and we’ve been paying lip service about that for generations.”


latimes--2020-06-13--George Floyd protests reached deep into rural California. The reactions were mixed, sometimes scary

When two teenagers from the tiny , majority-white Gold Rush town of Angels Camp posted a Facebook flier for a racial justice protest , the threats came immediately .
There was a rumor that ultra-left antifa activists were being bused in from the Bay Area and that organizers were being paid $ 25 an hour .
There were comments from people claiming they had “ enough bullets ” to take protesters down .
There were menacing phone calls , including one from a man in nearby Mokelumne Hill who threatened to “ burn down Angels Camp.
” “ At the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ‘ I ’ m warning you , there will be hell to pay , ’ ” said Riley Lowell , 18 , one of the organizers , who is white .
Alarmed by the threats , city officials — who told The Times in an email that “ protests in Angels Camp are very rare on any issue ” — set a curfew and declared a local emergency for the town of about 4,000 residents and a seven-member police department .
Since the death of George Floyd , a Black man who died @ @ @ @ @ @ @ officer knelt on his neck for eight minutes and 46 seconds , the protests that have filled streets in major cities have spread to conservative , mostly white small towns and suburbs .
While protesters in urban areas have been met by police batons , rubber bullets and tear gas , demonstrators in rural California have faced militias , death threats and conspiracy theories .
In Tuolumne County , people threatened to bring guns and dogs to a protest in the park .
In Lassen County , people shouted racial slurs at a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s in Susanville .
The Black teenage organizer of a demonstration in Plumas County got a message on Facebook calling her a “ domestic terrorist.
” In a claim he later walked back , Humboldt County Sheriff William Honsal said antifascists had tried to wreak havoc during a demonstration in Eureka , citing “ substantiated law enforcement reports ” that there were buses full of antifa protesters in Southern Oregon and the Central Valley .
In Shasta County , where street signs declare there is “ No Room for Racism , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to a protest in Redding .
Armed militia members also came , at the request of a local business , in anticipation of a protest in the Stanislaus County town of Oakdale that never happened .
“ This ‘ militia ’ has no official standing , no authority and their presence was counterproductive to keeping the peace in the City of Oakdale , ” Stanislaus County Sheriff Jeff Dirkse said in a statement .
“ Their activities were a drain on law enforcement resources and did nothing to protect the city.
” In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by Mark Twain in his 1865 short story “ The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County , ” authorities were not anticipating protests .
Police Chief Scott Ellis said it “ definitely caught us off guard.
” “ I just wasn ’ t expecting it to hit our small county , ” he said .
Although the backlash prompted Lowell and her co-organizer , 19-year-old Claudia Loomis , to postpone their demonstration , the teenagers joined community members who decided to show up on June 5 and protest anyway .
Among those in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wife and their two children .
Frazier , who has lived in Calaveras County for 20 years , saw the protest as an opportunity “ to open some bigger conversations in the area , ” which is 1 % Black .
“ I never experienced my town this vocal about something that ’ s so near and dear to me as an African American man who has had negative and positive experiences , ” Frazier said .
“ But there was also the really negative of being forced to talk about and really @ @ @ @ @ @ @ America .
This is something that ’ s so heavy that even in this little town , we ’ re all reacting to it.
” In neighboring Tuolumne County , which is 80 % white , organizers Daelyn Sebold and Morgan Wilkie , who are white , endured the same threats when word spread about the Sonora Stand in Solidarity gathering .
Ahead of the protest , about 200 people met to discuss how to protect businesses .
In audio from that meeting shared with The Times , one man asked if he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his car windows .
When someone asked if anyone had a wood chipper , another man responded , “ we ’ ve got chainsaws , we ’ ve got all kinds of s—.
” At the June 3 protest , about 100 counter-protesters stood nearby , wearing All Lives Matter shirts , Sebold said .
One car had a Confederate flag with the word “ redneck ” on it .
When the protesters held nine minutes of silence , the crowd across the street began reciting the Pledge of Allegiance .
Although at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said she wasn ’ t surprised .
“ I did grow up here for a majority of my life , I knew this was going to happen , ” the 22-year-old said .
“ But I also understood that the fear I was feeling was the fear that some people have to face their entire life .
I know my purpose and why I needed to do it , I just had to follow through.
” TyAnna Farmer , a Black 17-year-old , and a friend organized a protest outside the Plumas County @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with Facebook messages saying it was going to be a riot and that she was a “ domestic terrorist.
” People threatened to bring guns .
Still , hundreds of people showed up .
It was peaceful .
There , TyAnna read a poem she written about being one of few Black students in her school : Surrounded in a sea of white , all that can be seen is my Black .
Seas of white , slowly rising .
Keep your head up , hands forward , keep swimming they say .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ re suffocating .
They say breathe .
I can ’ t , you say .
TyAnna said there are few Black families in the small Sierra Nevada town , and it gets lonely .
She said it ’ s become a reflex to pull out her wallet when she walks into stores to avoid suspicious looks .
Many times , she said , white classmates have touched or pulled her hair .
TyAnna transferred schools , she said , after fighting with a white student who , she said , spat on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The fight , she said , cost her a scholarship and a captain position on the cheer squad .
She was inspired , albeit surprised , by the big crowd at the protest .
“ I feel like people are starting to finally open their eyes , ” TyAnna said .
“ Before , people were in denial , saying racism doesn ’ t exist here .
After everything that ’ s happened in the world , people are starting to realize it ’ s everywhere .
Even Quincy.
” On June 2 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , began a one-man protest in Susanville — in sparsely-populated , deeply conservative Lassen County .
He bought two poster boards from the Dollar Tree and included why he was protesting , as well as the names of those who have died from police brutality , and walked around town .
The first day of his protest , he endured racial slurs and people shouting , “ we don ’ t like your kind around here ” and “ Black lives don ’ t matter.
” He wasn ’ t surprised , recounting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with a hangman ’ s noose and a racial slur in the high school locker room .
“ What do you expect ?
” he said .
“ It ’ s a small town , there ’ s not many people of color like me here.
” In the following days , more people began walking with him .
At one point , he said , a man flashed his gun at protesters , threatening to shoot them .
Medico went to the police .
Despite some of the backlash , Medico is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Inspired by Medico , the local Democratic Party organized a protest march last week that drew scores of people .
Initially , some were scared to participate , said Jake Hibbitts , 33 , chair of the Lassen Democratic Party .
There had been threats on social media , people saying they ’ d bring guns and run over protesters .
In a small town , Hibbitts said , everyone knows who participates .
“ We were reasonably terrified , ” said Hibbitts , who is white .
At the end of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ road and chanted , “ No justice , no peace !
” They were met by a small group shouting , “ All lives matter !
” and “ Cop lives matter !
” But the demonstration was peaceful .
Now , Hibbitts said , people want to protest more .
“ When I started this , I wasn ’ t really trying to have all these people do all this stuff .
I was just trying to stand up for something that I hold strong , ” Medico said .
“ Maybe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to stand up .
”

George Floyd protests that have filled streets in major cities have spread to conservative, mostly white small towns such as Angels Camp, above, in Calaveras County.
When two teenagers from the tiny, majority-white Gold Rush town of Angels Camp posted a Facebook flier for a racial justice protest, the threats came immediately.
There was a rumor that ultra-left antifa activists were being bused in from the Bay Area and that organizers were being paid $25 an hour. There were comments from people claiming they had “enough bullets” to take protesters down. There were menacing phone calls, including one from a man in nearby Mokelumne Hill who threatened to “burn down Angels Camp.”
“At the end of it, he said, ‘I’m warning you, there will be hell to pay,’” said Riley Lowell, 18, one of the organizers, who is white.
Alarmed by the threats, city officials — who told The Times in an email that “protests in Angels Camp are very rare on any issue” — set a curfew and declared a local emergency for the town of about 4,000 residents and a seven-member police department.
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Since the death of George Floyd, a Black man who died last month after a white Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for eight minutes and 46 seconds, the protests that have filled streets in major cities have spread to conservative, mostly white small towns and suburbs.
While protesters in urban areas have been met by police batons, rubber bullets and tear gas, demonstrators in rural California have faced militias, death threats and conspiracy theories.
A racial justice protest in Angels Camp in Calaveras County. Alarmed by the threats sent to the teen organizers, city officials set a curfew and declared a local emergency for the town of about 4,000 residents. (Jack Smith)
In Tuolumne County, people threatened to bring guns and dogs to a protest in the park. In Lassen County, people shouted racial slurs at a man who protested alone near the McDonald’s in Susanville. The Black teenage organizer of a demonstration in Plumas County got a message on Facebook calling her a “domestic terrorist.”
In a claim he later walked back, Humboldt County Sheriff William Honsal said antifascists had tried to wreak havoc during a demonstration in Eureka, citing “substantiated law enforcement reports” that there were buses full of antifa protesters in Southern Oregon and the Central Valley.
In Shasta County, where street signs declare there is “No Room for Racism,” militia members in tactical gear showed up to a protest in Redding. Armed militia members also came, at the request of a local business, in anticipation of a protest in the Stanislaus County town of Oakdale that never happened.
“This ‘militia’ has no official standing, no authority and their presence was counterproductive to keeping the peace in the City of Oakdale,” Stanislaus County Sheriff Jeff Dirkse said in a statement. “Their activities were a drain on law enforcement resources and did nothing to protect the city.”
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In Angels Camp, a town made famous by Mark Twain in his 1865 short story “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” authorities were not anticipating protests. Police Chief Scott Ellis said it “definitely caught us off guard.”
“I just wasn’t expecting it to hit our small county,” he said.
Back Lives Matter protesters look on as the day’s key speakers embrace after address in Sonora, Calif. (Connor McCluskey)
Although the backlash prompted Lowell and her co-organizer, 19-year-old Claudia Loomis, to postpone their demonstration, the teenagers joined community members who decided to show up on June 5 and protest anyway.
Among those in the crowd was Nate Frazier, his wife and their two children. Frazier, who has lived in Calaveras County for 20 years, saw the protest as an opportunity “to open some bigger conversations in the area,” which is 1% Black.
“I never experienced my town this vocal about something that’s so near and dear to me as an African American man who has had negative and positive experiences,” Frazier said. “But there was also the really negative of being forced to talk about and really contemplate on the issues we have in America. This is something that’s so heavy that even in this little town, we’re all reacting to it.”
In neighboring Tuolumne County, which is 80% white, organizers Daelyn Sebold and Morgan Wilkie, who are white, endured the same threats when word spread about the Sonora Stand in Solidarity gathering.
Ahead of the protest, about 200 people met to discuss how to protect businesses. In audio from that meeting shared with The Times, one man asked if he could run over protesters if they bashed his car windows. When someone asked if anyone had a wood chipper, another man responded, “we’ve got chainsaws, we’ve got all kinds of s—.”
At the June 3 protest, about 100 counter-protesters stood nearby, wearing All Lives Matter shirts, Sebold said. One car had a Confederate flag with the word “redneck” on it. When the protesters held nine minutes of silence, the crowd across the street began reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.
Although at times the threats were frightening, Sebold said she wasn’t surprised.
“I did grow up here for a majority of my life, I knew this was going to happen,” the 22-year-old said. “But I also understood that the fear I was feeling was the fear that some people have to face their entire life. I know my purpose and why I needed to do it, I just had to follow through.”
Ahlaya Brown, from left, Suzanne Stirling and TyAnna Farmer helped organize a protest against racial injustice in Quincy in Plumas County. Farmer, 17, got a message on Facebook calling her a “domestic terrorist.” (Kiembra Pinelli)
TyAnna Farmer, a Black 17-year-old, and a friend organized a protest outside the Plumas County Courthouse in Quincy. She was bombarded with Facebook messages saying it was going to be a riot and that she was a “domestic terrorist.” People threatened to bring guns.
Still, hundreds of people showed up. It was peaceful.
There, TyAnna read a poem she written about being one of few Black students in her school:
Surrounded in a sea of white, all that can be seen is my Black. Seas of white, slowly rising. Keep your head up, hands forward, keep swimming they say. White waves crash against you, you’re suffocating. They say breathe. I can’t, you say.
TyAnna said there are few Black families in the small Sierra Nevada town, and it gets lonely.
She said it’s become a reflex to pull out her wallet when she walks into stores to avoid suspicious looks. Many times, she said, white classmates have touched or pulled her hair.
TyAnna transferred schools, she said, after fighting with a white student who, she said, spat on her and called her the N-word. The fight, she said, cost her a scholarship and a captain position on the cheer squad.
She was inspired, albeit surprised, by the big crowd at the protest.
“I feel like people are starting to finally open their eyes,” TyAnna said. “Before, people were in denial, saying racism doesn’t exist here. After everything that’s happened in the world, people are starting to realize it’s everywhere. Even Quincy.”
On June 2, Cameron Medico, who is half-Black, began a one-man protest in Susanville — in sparsely-populated, deeply conservative Lassen County. He bought two poster boards from the Dollar Tree and included why he was protesting, as well as the names of those who have died from police brutality, and walked around town.
The first day of his protest, he endured racial slurs and people shouting, “we don’t like your kind around here” and “Black lives don’t matter.” He wasn’t surprised, recounting the time someone left him a doll with a hangman’s noose and a racial slur in the high school locker room.
“What do you expect?” he said. “It’s a small town, there’s not many people of color like me here.”
In the following days, more people began walking with him. At one point, he said, a man flashed his gun at protesters, threatening to shoot them. Medico went to the police.
Despite some of the backlash, Medico is still going out to protest every day.
Inspired by Medico, the local Democratic Party organized a protest march last week that drew scores of people.
Initially, some were scared to participate, said Jake Hibbitts, 33, chair of the Lassen Democratic Party. There had been threats on social media, people saying they’d bring guns and run over protesters. In a small town, Hibbitts said, everyone knows who participates.
“We were reasonably terrified,” said Hibbitts, who is white.
At the end of the march, protesters knelt in the road and chanted, “No justice, no peace!” They were met by a small group shouting, “All lives matter!” and “Cop lives matter!”
But the demonstration was peaceful. Now, Hibbitts said, people want to protest more.
“When I started this, I wasn’t really trying to have all these people do all this stuff. I was just trying to stand up for something that I hold strong,” Medico said. “Maybe we’ll get other small towns to stand up.”


latimes--2020-06-13--LAPD packed arrested protesters in confined space for hours, heightening coronavirus risk

After spending months closely observing health officials ’ warnings about the dangers of the coronavirus , Stephanie Van Sickel had a decision to make as protesters marched through downtown L.A. late last month .
Van Sickel , 32 , lives with a nurse who had been getting tested for the virus at least once a week .
She knew that joining the crowds of thousands who had taken to the street to protest the killing of George Floyd and larger issues with police brutality would increase her chances of getting sick , but she also felt compelled to get off @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a big decision she and I made going out there , ” Van Sickel said .
“ But we decided there are some things that are more important than your own personal safety.
” Van Sickel said she spent three hours marching throughout downtown L.A. , mostly with groups of people who were masked and observing social distancing .
But by the end of the night , her hands were zip-tied together as she was crammed onto a bus and put in close contact with other demonstrators .
They were all under arrest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them would later claim they never heard .
Van Sickel said her mask had fallen off .
None of the officers she ’ d interacted with had worn one to begin with .
“ At that point , obviously , anxiety is skyrocketing ... but they clearly do not care , ” she said of the officers .
In the past few weeks , hundreds of thousands of people have taken part in marches across the country to call for criminal justice reform in the wake of Floyd ’ s killing , prompting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could lead to a spike in coronavirus cases .
But in Southern California , where thousands of people were arrested for minor violations during the demonstrations , some are now questioning if the police response to the protests might do more to get people sick than the protests themselves .
“ Certainly , the big roundups of people that threatened their health were really not supportable .
They are not really able to justify them in terms of whatever danger [ the protesters ] posed , ” said L.A. County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl @ @ @ @ @ @ @ calling on health officials to provide police with guidelines on how to improve responses to protests during the pandemic .
“ It was like they freaked out because there were a lot of people there.
” Several epidemiologists told The Times that while protests themselves could spread the virus , the conditions the LAPD and other agencies held people in were even more problematic for those worried about a surge in cases .
“ If you are packing people together on buses , particularly if the windows are closed … that will promote @ @ @ @ @ @ @ susceptible people on those buses , ” said Dr. Timothy Brewer , a professor of medicine and epidemiology at UCLA .
While departments have been slow to provide detailed arrest figures , most estimates suggest more than 3,000 people in Southern California were taken into custody during the height of the protests from May 29 to June 2 .
The LAPD arrested 2,700 people in that time frame , and officials have estimated about 2,500 of those arrests were for violations of emergency curfew orders or dispersal orders .
Only a fraction were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at businesses downtown , in the Fairfax District and in Van Nuys .
Curfew and dispersal order violations result only in a citation , for which people can be issued a ticket and released immediately , attorneys say .
The fact that the LAPD chose to instead put those people on buses or pack them together in groups during a pandemic that spreads rapidly through the air in enclosed spaces showed that police prioritized detaining nonviolent protesters over those people ’ s health , said civil rights attorney Carol Sobel .
Allegations that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the coronavirus among protesters could be added to a lawsuit filed against the city over its response to the demonstrations , said Sobel .
LAPD Chief Michel Moore said the department is reviewing the way protesters were detained as part of its larger review of the department ’ s response .
The review “ will include understanding what protective measures were attempted in the transportation and processing of arrestees , ” Moore said .
Complaints that police officers ’ actions put demonstrators at added risk of getting sick extended beyond Los Angeles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Doaty said officers took away protesters ’ masks when they arrested people for curfew violations on the night of May 31 .
Doaty said he was one of dozens of people kept in custody for hours and processed at the Santa Monica airport .
“ I ’ m not sure what ’ s gong on with this .
They preached social distancing and stuff like that , but then they took our masks and put us close together ?
” Doaty asked .
In a statement , Santa Monica officials said they are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ place during a day of demonstrations that also saw destruction and vandalism at several businesses in the Promenade shopping district .
“ We value peaceful protest and are committed to a city in which all residents and visitors feel and are safe , ” the statement read .
Late last month , the California Department of Public Health issued guidelines for those looking to protest during the pandemic , warning that “ activities like chanting , shouting , singing and group recitation negate the risk-reduction achieved ” by social distancing .
Dr. George @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the University of California in San Francisco , said the conditions described by people arrested in Southern California seemed inconsistent with public health guidelines aimed at reducing the spread of the illness .
While protesting carries its own risks of contracting COVID-19 , the large number of officers seen without masks and their decision to hold people in close quarters worsened the situation .
“ It ’ s only a finite amount of time but it is time and it does increase risk , ” he said .
“ The virus has less @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , or sneezing or just breathing.
” Some said officers ’ apparent indifference to wearing masks or holding protesters in cramped spaces during a pandemic pointed to a larger , cultural problem .
“ The people that are supposed to be protecting us might be spreading this virus more than anyone , ” said Jeremey Penn , a 30-year-old game developer who volunteers with the L.A. chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America .
“ How are we supposed to protect ourselves if they aren ’ t ?
”

Protesters are loaded onto a bus after being arrested for violating curfew along Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood on June 1.
After spending months closely observing health officials’ warnings about the dangers of the coronavirus, Stephanie Van Sickel had a decision to make as protesters marched through downtown L.A. late last month.
Van Sickel, 32, lives with a nurse who had been getting tested for the virus at least once a week. She knew that joining the crowds of thousands who had taken to the street to protest the killing of George Floyd and larger issues with police brutality would increase her chances of getting sick, but she also felt compelled to get off the sidelines.
“It was definitely a big decision she and I made going out there,” Van Sickel said. “But we decided there are some things that are more important than your own personal safety.”
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Van Sickel said she spent three hours marching throughout downtown L.A., mostly with groups of people who were masked and observing social distancing. But by the end of the night, her hands were zip-tied together as she was crammed onto a bus and put in close contact with other demonstrators. They were all under arrest for violating a dispersal order many of them would later claim they never heard.
Van Sickel said her mask had fallen off. None of the officers she’d interacted with had worn one to begin with.
“At that point, obviously, anxiety is skyrocketing ... but they clearly do not care,” she said of the officers.
In the past few weeks, hundreds of thousands of people have taken part in marches across the country to call for criminal justice reform in the wake of Floyd’s killing, prompting concerns from many that the large crowds could lead to a spike in coronavirus cases. But in Southern California, where thousands of people were arrested for minor violations during the demonstrations, some are now questioning if the police response to the protests might do more to get people sick than the protests themselves.
“Certainly, the big roundups of people that threatened their health were really not supportable. They are not really able to justify them in terms of whatever danger [the protesters] posed,” said L.A. County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl, who introduced a motion this week calling on health officials to provide police with guidelines on how to improve responses to protests during the pandemic. “It was like they freaked out because there were a lot of people there.”
Several epidemiologists told The Times that while protests themselves could spread the virus, the conditions the LAPD and other agencies held people in were even more problematic for those worried about a surge in cases.
“If you are packing people together on buses, particularly if the windows are closed … that will promote COVID-19 transmission if there are infected and susceptible people on those buses,” said Dr. Timothy Brewer, a professor of medicine and epidemiology at UCLA.
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While departments have been slow to provide detailed arrest figures, most estimates suggest more than 3,000 people in Southern California were taken into custody during the height of the protests from May 29 to June 2. The LAPD arrested 2,700 people in that time frame, and officials have estimated about 2,500 of those arrests were for violations of emergency curfew orders or dispersal orders. Only a fraction were related to reports of theft and vandalism at businesses downtown, in the Fairfax District and in Van Nuys.
Curfew and dispersal order violations result only in a citation, for which people can be issued a ticket and released immediately, attorneys say. The fact that the LAPD chose to instead put those people on buses or pack them together in groups during a pandemic that spreads rapidly through the air in enclosed spaces showed that police prioritized detaining nonviolent protesters over those people’s health, said civil rights attorney Carol Sobel.
Allegations that booking conditions could have promoted the spread of the coronavirus among protesters could be added to a lawsuit filed against the city over its response to the demonstrations, said Sobel.
LAPD Chief Michel Moore said the department is reviewing the way protesters were detained as part of its larger review of the department’s response. The review “will include understanding what protective measures were attempted in the transportation and processing of arrestees,” Moore said.
Complaints that police officers’ actions put demonstrators at added risk of getting sick extended beyond Los Angeles. In Santa Monica, 22-year-old Steve Doaty said officers took away protesters’ masks when they arrested people for curfew violations on the night of May 31. Doaty said he was one of dozens of people kept in custody for hours and processed at the Santa Monica airport.
“I’m not sure what’s gong on with this. They preached social distancing and stuff like that, but then they took our masks and put us close together?” Doaty asked.
In a statement, Santa Monica officials said they are conducting a full review of what took place during a day of demonstrations that also saw destruction and vandalism at several businesses in the Promenade shopping district.
“We value peaceful protest and are committed to a city in which all residents and visitors feel and are safe,” the statement read.
Late last month, the California Department of Public Health issued guidelines for those looking to protest during the pandemic, warning that “activities like chanting, shouting, singing and group recitation negate the risk-reduction achieved” by social distancing.
Dr. George Rutherford, a professor of epidemiology at the University of California in San Francisco, said the conditions described by people arrested in Southern California seemed inconsistent with public health guidelines aimed at reducing the spread of the illness. While protesting carries its own risks of contracting COVID-19, the large number of officers seen without masks and their decision to hold people in close quarters worsened the situation.
“It’s only a finite amount of time but it is time and it does increase risk,” he said. “The virus has less room to disperse if someone is coughing, or sneezing or just breathing.”
Some said officers’ apparent indifference to wearing masks or holding protesters in cramped spaces during a pandemic pointed to a larger, cultural problem.
“The people that are supposed to be protecting us might be spreading this virus more than anyone,” said Jeremey Penn, a 30-year-old game developer who volunteers with the L.A. chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America. “How are we supposed to protect ourselves if they aren’t?”
Times staff writer Emily Alpert Reyes contributed to this report.


latimes--2020-06-13--Column: Black people make up 8% of L.A. population and 34% of its homeless. That's unacceptable

In Los Angeles County , African Americans represent 7.9 % of the population .
In the latest homeless count , with double-digit city and county increases that are uniformly disappointing and disturbing , Black people make up 34 % of the 66,000-plus total .
As has been true in other recent years , that is out of whack by four times , and it ’ s a particularly important number to highlight today , as a reinvigorated national conversation on racial disparities is taking place across the United States .
“ Without institutional racism , there would be 15,000 fewer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from Black and Native American populations , ” said the summation of county statistics released this week by the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority .
On Friday , I toured skid row in downtown Los Angeles , which I first became familiar with 15 years ago after befriending a homeless African American musician .
I vividly recall how police back then routinely issued tickets for things such as jaywalking to people who suffered from severe mental illness .
My friend was a target more than once .
The area is still an outdoor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the stark results on full display .
Tents and blue tarps are still everywhere , people sleep on clogged sidewalks , and the vast majority of homeless people on skid row — I ’ d say 75 % or more — are Black .
You can find homeless Black people in any part of L.A. County these days , but why such a concentration on skid row ?
For one thing , a county health official told me , many neighborhoods don ’ t have as much supportive housing , addiction rehabilitation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ does , due partly to organized neighborhood opposition throughout L.A .
Through the decades , if you ’ re destitute , sick , hungry , traumatized , skid row is where you go .
And for decades , Black Angelenos have disproportionately grappled with all of those things .
In L.A. County , racial disparities abound .
Black people are twice as likely to die of COVID-19 as white people .
In Los Angeles Unified , the second-largest school district in the country , about 90 % of those who attend district schools @ @ @ @ @ @ @ % of LAUSD students fall below the poverty line .
A Times study published a few days ago determined that of the nearly 900 people killed by police in L.A. County since 2000 , 80 % were people of color .
As I wrote on the first day of major demonstrations in Los Angeles , for all the wealth in the state that ranks as the fifth-largest economy of the world , schools are not equal , access to healthcare is not equal , criminal justice is not equal , and neither is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ You have all these institutional things that over decades and decades broke down the Black family , ” said former state Sen. Kevin Murray , who was a member of the Legislative Black Caucus and now directs the Weingart homeless services agency in the heart of skid row .
What followed was mass incarceration and its aftermath .
When those incarcerated people were let out , Murray said , “ sometimes after a relatively minor offense , they had nowhere to go and barriers kept them from gainful employment .
They @ @ @ @ @ @ @ support system … and [ homelessness ] is the expected result of the kind of institutional racism people are now starting to resist.
” “ What ’ s inherent in these disparities , ” said Va Lecia Adams Kellum , who is on the front lines of the fight against homelessness as president of the St. Joseph Center , “ is that rather than arrest kids , let ’ s educate them and let ’ s employ them because we know what happens when they ’ re educated and housed and working.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ studying homelessness among African Americans .
The chair of that committee is Jacqueline Waggoner , a LAHSA commissioner who works in the affordable housing field .
“ Government created the differences we see in housing , ” Waggoner said , touching on the long history of housing discrimination that drove segregation , and redlining , the practice of refusing to issue or insure mortgages in African American communities .
In a region where housing costs have soared and wages have remained flat , Waggoner said , people of color have been hit hardest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the cliff edge of homelessness every day , and if you are poor and a person of color , you ’ re always with your feet half off that block , ” Waggoner said .
It ’ s interesting that she mentioned redlining because when I was on skid row Friday , I stopped to see a guy I know who has been homeless for a decade or so and goes by the name of Old School .
He wasn ’ t there , so I asked his homeless friend if he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me a call .
And how are you ?
I asked the friend .
“ Not well , ” he said , telling me about his diabetes and other issues .
“ How could I be ?
” Old School called a few minutes later and I asked him why such a disproportionate number of homeless people in L.A. are Black .
No hesitation on his part .
“ Because of deprivation , ” Old School said .
“ That ’ s a penalty that was imposed on African American families .
Employment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and they drew a red line straight across the board .
People are penalized for the color of their skin … and after the Rodney King riots everyone was labeled a looter or a thief .
The image of the African American male is of a thug.
” The demonstrations and violence across the U.S. since the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer have unleashed more than a few racist outbursts , and that kind of ugliness will never go away .
But there ’ s also been an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fronts .
“ The collective action and multi-cultural protests give me hope , because nothing will change until … people see that it ’ s my brother , it ’ s my last breath , I can ’ t breathe because he can ’ t breathe , ” said Adams Kellum .
“ As a Black person , I love seeing that it ’ s not just us saying this.
” But are we willing to do more than protest ?
Are we willing to move away from what Waggoner calls “ race @ @ @ @ @ @ @ equity ” policymaking , even if money is short because of the pandemic ’ s devastating effect on government budgets ?
Are we ready to end the glaring disparities in K-12 education ?
Are we ready to invest in more homeless prevention for the families of color most likely to show up in next year ’ s homeless count ?
L.A. County needs another half-million units of affordable housing , Waggoner said , but there ’ s been fierce opposition to new development in California neighborhoods zoned for single-family homes .
“ Is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ say we want to fight racism by allowing density ?
” Waggoner asked .
Los Angeles is not alone when it comes to disproportionate homeless statistics , Waggoner said .
Black people represent about 13 % of the U.S. population and 40 % of the nation ’ s homeless population .
“ If we can fix it for Black people , we can fix it for everyone , ” Waggoner said .
“ Because they ’ re the hardest hit .
”

A mural on San Julian Street near 6th Street in the heart of skid row in downtown Los Angeles, where a disproportionate number of residents are Black.
In Los Angeles County, African Americans represent 7.9% of the population.
In the latest homeless count, with double-digit city and county increases that are uniformly disappointing and disturbing, Black people make up 34% of the 66,000-plus total.
As has been true in other recent years, that is out of whack by four times, and it’s a particularly important number to highlight today, as a reinvigorated national conversation on racial disparities is taking place across the United States.
“Without institutional racism, there would be 15,000 fewer people experiencing homelessness, almost all coming from Black and Native American populations,” said the summation of county statistics released this week by the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority.
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On Friday, I toured skid row in downtown Los Angeles, which I first became familiar with 15 years ago after befriending a homeless African American musician. I vividly recall how police back then routinely issued tickets for things such as jaywalking to people who suffered from severe mental illness. My friend was a target more than once.
The area is still an outdoor museum of social and economic failure, with the stark results on full display. Tents and blue tarps are still everywhere, people sleep on clogged sidewalks, and the vast majority of homeless people on skid row — I’d say 75% or more — are Black.
You can find homeless Black people in any part of L.A. County these days, but why such a concentration on skid row?
For one thing, a county health official told me, many neighborhoods don’t have as much supportive housing, addiction rehabilitation and mental health resources as skid row does, due partly to organized neighborhood opposition throughout L.A. Through the decades, if you’re destitute, sick, hungry, traumatized, skid row is where you go. And for decades, Black Angelenos have disproportionately grappled with all of those things.
In L.A. County, racial disparities abound. Black people are twice as likely to die of COVID-19 as white people.
In Los Angeles Unified, the second-largest school district in the country, about 90% of those who attend district schools are students of color, and 80% of LAUSD students fall below the poverty line.
A Times study published a few days ago determined that of the nearly 900 people killed by police in L.A. County since 2000, 80% were people of color.
As I wrote on the first day of major demonstrations in Los Angeles, for all the wealth in the state that ranks as the fifth-largest economy of the world, schools are not equal, access to healthcare is not equal, criminal justice is not equal, and neither is access to good jobs with decent pay.
“You have all these institutional things that over decades and decades broke down the Black family,” said former state Sen. Kevin Murray, who was a member of the Legislative Black Caucus and now directs the Weingart homeless services agency in the heart of skid row.
What followed was mass incarceration and its aftermath.
When those incarcerated people were let out, Murray said, “sometimes after a relatively minor offense, they had nowhere to go and barriers kept them from gainful employment. They had no safety net, no family support system … and [homelessness] is the expected result of the kind of institutional racism people are now starting to resist.”
“What’s inherent in these disparities,” said Va Lecia Adams Kellum, who is on the front lines of the fight against homelessness as president of the St. Joseph Center, “is that rather than arrest kids, let’s educate them and let’s employ them because we know what happens when they’re educated and housed and working.”
Advertisement
Adams Kellum is on a LAHSA committee studying homelessness among African Americans. The chair of that committee is Jacqueline Waggoner, a LAHSA commissioner who works in the affordable housing field.
“Government created the differences we see in housing,” Waggoner said, touching on the long history of housing discrimination that drove segregation, and redlining, the practice of refusing to issue or insure mortgages in African American communities.
In a region where housing costs have soared and wages have remained flat, Waggoner said, people of color have been hit hardest.
“A lot of people are on the cliff edge of homelessness every day, and if you are poor and a person of color, you’re always with your feet half off that block,” Waggoner said.
It’s interesting that she mentioned redlining because when I was on skid row Friday, I stopped to see a guy I know who has been homeless for a decade or so and goes by the name of Old School. He wasn’t there, so I asked his homeless friend if he’d tell Old School to give me a call.
And how are you? I asked the friend.
“Not well,” he said, telling me about his diabetes and other issues. “How could I be?”
Old School called a few minutes later and I asked him why such a disproportionate number of homeless people in L.A. are Black.
No hesitation on his part.
“Because of deprivation,” Old School said. “That’s a penalty that was imposed on African American families. Employment opportunities dried up, housing dried up, and they drew a red line straight across the board. People are penalized for the color of their skin … and after the Rodney King riots everyone was labeled a looter or a thief. The image of the African American male is of a thug.”
The demonstrations and violence across the U.S. since the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer have unleashed more than a few racist outbursts, and that kind of ugliness will never go away. But there’s also been an encouraging multi-racial demand for reforms on many fronts.
“The collective action and multi-cultural protests give me hope, because nothing will change until … people see that it’s my brother, it’s my last breath, I can’t breathe because he can’t breathe,” said Adams Kellum. “As a Black person, I love seeing that it’s not just us saying this.”
But are we willing to do more than protest? Are we willing to move away from what Waggoner calls “race neutral” policymaking and embrace “racial equity” policymaking, even if money is short because of the pandemic’s devastating effect on government budgets?
Are we ready to end the glaring disparities in K-12 education? Are we ready to invest in more homeless prevention for the families of color most likely to show up in next year’s homeless count?
L.A. County needs another half-million units of affordable housing, Waggoner said, but there’s been fierce opposition to new development in California neighborhoods zoned for single-family homes.
“Is there a willingness in the community to say we want to fight racism by allowing density?” Waggoner asked.
Los Angeles is not alone when it comes to disproportionate homeless statistics, Waggoner said. Black people represent about 13% of the U.S. population and 40% of the nation’s homeless population.
“If we can fix it for Black people, we can fix it for everyone,” Waggoner said. “Because they’re the hardest hit.”
Steve.lopez@latimes.com


latimes--2020-06-13--Some social distancing with your chardonnay? Wineries are reopening across California

Though it might seem incongruous to scout out chardonnay during social upheaval and a pandemic , wineries are reopening across California , and their owners and analysts appear cautiously optimistic about future sales and atmospherics .
On opening day at Sonoma ’ s Buena Vista Winery , a couple biked to the historic vineyard ’ s gates and was greeted with a wave by the winery ’ s owner , Jean Charles Boisset , and a man dressed as “ Count ” Agoston Haraszthy , the 19th century Hungarian founder of the winery .
Waiters and hospitality workers buzzed in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the winery ’ s 1862 landmark bar and restaurant .
They were masked and maintained a safe distance from one another and their restless , anxiously excited guests , who ’ ve been cooped up at home for weeks as a result of the state ’ s shelter-in-place orders .
But it ’ s a slightly different winery than it was before the pandemic .
Communal spit buckets are now prohibited , as are crowded queues around wine-tasting bars .
Instead , guests must make time-restrictive reservations , and wineries must ensure no @ @ @ @ @ @ @ masks and gloves , and have minimal contact with guests .
“ That ’ s really for everybody ’ s safety , ” said Rene Byck , co-owner of Paradise Ridge Winery in Santa Rosa , Calif .
Explaining the new protocol , he said waiters will serve guests at the beginning of a sit-down meal and tasting and provide them with an iPad that presents information about the wines they are trying .
The hope is to have contact between servers and guests only at the beginning and endof each reservation .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ s nice , ” said Byck of the virtual tutorial provided to guests .
“ People can move through it at their own pace .
And rewind , if they want.
” At Buena Vista , charcuterie plates , salads and other gourmet foods are served in individual plastic boxes along with separate glasses of wine for each variety served .
And toasting — for any occasion — is strictly discouraged among non-household members .
That didn ’ t stop Boisset and the Count from giving an “ air ” toast with a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ winery .
Though the number of visitors is down from the same time last year , said Boisset , reservations were filling up and walk-ins , like the bicycling couple , were appearing — hoping to relax at a table atop the cobblestone courtyard of the 19th century winery .
And that ’ s something to raise your glass to , said Rob McMillan , executive vice president and founder of Silicon Valley Bank ’ s wine division .
He said the typical small-to medium-sized California winery has taken a 43 % revenue @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — the result of combined losses in tasting room and restaurant sales .
Early indications suggest people are busting to return , he said , and although point-of-sale revenues plummeted , online sales skyrocketed — jumping from 5.3 % of total sales from Jan.1 to March 13 , to 19.2 % percent from March 20 to May 8 .
It ’ s a sign that winery owners are finally heeding McMillan ’ s decades-old advice to move more sales and experiences , such as virtual tastings , to the internet and pay attention @ @ @ @ @ @ @ takes a something like a pandemic to unlock your mind , ” he said , and to spur people to “ try new ways to do things.
” For an industry that built itself on location-based experiences — vineyard tours and on-grounds tastings — the new model requires a “ massive shift ” in both self-perception and organizational effort , McMillan said .
According to his data , less than 20 % of wineries have a full-time employee dedicated to analyzing consumer data .
And that , he said , is where winery @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is buying their wine ?
What are their interests ?
How can you tap into that to get them excited to buy more wine ?
“ Don ’ t advertise wine cruises if your clientele doesn ’ t like cruises , ” McMillan said .
“ If the data shows your customers like tennis , consider tennis outings as a way to reach them.
” As guests filtered into Buena Vista , Boisset — who was dressed in a royal blue suit with bright red socks and a matching monogrammed face mask — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the crisis .
For instance , he holds a virtual happy hour with the public every Saturday on Facebook , as well as more exclusive experiences for wine club members , such as private cooking lessons with him and a celebrity chef .
McMillan said that since March 20 , wine club memberships grew for most wineries from roughly half of their revenue stream to slightly more than 60 % .
He noted that Boisset , who owns dozens of wineries and specialty food shops throughout California and his native France , was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ The guy is as sharp as a fox , ” McMillan said .
“ He ’ s willing to try different things.
” Including virtual history lessons with the Hungarian Count — reenacted by Sonoma actor and historian George Webber .
Standing in a top hat , satin vest and 19th century attire , Webber — who was channeling the Count — noted that Buena Vista , which touts itself as California ’ s “ first premium winery , ” has faced its share of catastrophes over the 163 years it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ historic California wineries .
“ You forget the cholera epidemic of the 1850s , which killed thousands , ” he said , invoking the Count ’ s persona , minus the Hungarian accent .
He then ticked off a list of other events , such as the 1918 flu pandemic , the 1906 San Francisco earthquake , Prohibition and the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake — all of which occurred after his death — noting that “ after every event , we came back even stronger.
” Byck , the co-owner of Paradise Ridge @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It ’ s not the first time we ’ ve had to think about how to adapt , ” he said .
In October 2017 , the Tubbs fire burned Paradise Ridge to the ground .
Not long after , the business faced floods .
After two years , the winery finally reopened its pavilion in December 2019 , only to be closed again because of the pandemic .
Byck said he ’ s hopeful his online sales and virtual experiences will make up for the loss in in-person revenue and tours .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Buena Vista , his winery has been focusing more on both virtual and off-location event .
Before the pandemic , he and his team were regularly flying across the country to bring tasting-room experiences to the homes of out-of-state wine club members .
In addition , the winery ’ s new events venue has ample patio and outdoor space , providing room for dining and tasting experiences — as long as guests bring masks and keep socially distanced from one another while on the premises .
For the wineries that do have outdoor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ On a recent Friday , Katie Bundschu , of Gundlach Bundschu Winery in Sonoma , greeted guests who ’ d reserved 90-minute slots for tastings on her breathtaking 120-acre property .
A DJ mixed tunes at the winery ’ s entrance while staff roamed the property , directing guests to the outdoor tasting and dining stations .
Bundschu said 45 reservations had been made for opening day , and roughly 200 each day for both Saturday and Sunday — a dip from typical weekend numbers , which generally hover around 600 .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said Troy Tanga , a Gundlach Bundschu wine club member and Sonoma resident , who was relishing the experience — delighted to be back at the winery with a small group of friends .
“ We ’ re all ready to get back to business .
”

Wine educator David Mayer pours glasses of 2017 Edizione Pennino Zinfandel for guests at the Inglenook winery Friday, June 12, 2020, in Rutherford, Calif. The historic winery, which dates to 1879, reopened Friday to wine club members after being closed since mid March because of the coronavirus threat. It will be open to the public on June 25.
Though it might seem incongruous to scout out chardonnay during social upheaval and a pandemic, wineries are reopening across California, and their owners and analysts appear cautiously optimistic about future sales and atmospherics.
For now.
On opening day at Sonoma’s Buena Vista Winery, a couple biked to the historic vineyard’s gates and was greeted with a wave by the winery’s owner, Jean Charles Boisset, and a man dressed as “Count” Agoston Haraszthy, the 19th century Hungarian founder of the winery.
Waiters and hospitality workers buzzed in and out of the Press House, the winery’s 1862 landmark bar and restaurant. They were masked and maintained a safe distance from one another and their restless, anxiously excited guests, who’ve been cooped up at home for weeks as a result of the state’s shelter-in-place orders.
Advertisement
Sonoma actor and historian George Webber greets visitors in the role of “Count” Agoston Haraszthy, the 19th century Hungarian founder of the Buena Vista Winery, at Buena Vista in Sonoma on May 29, 2020.
(Susanne Rust/Los Angeles Times)
But it’s a slightly different winery than it was before the pandemic.
Communal spit buckets are now prohibited, as are crowded queues around wine-tasting bars. Instead, guests must make time-restrictive reservations, and wineries must ensure no overlap.
Servers are required to wear masks and gloves, and have minimal contact with guests.
“That’s really for everybody’s safety,” said Rene Byck, co-owner of Paradise Ridge Winery in Santa Rosa, Calif.
Explaining the new protocol, he said waiters will serve guests at the beginning of a sit-down meal and tasting and provide them with an iPad that presents information about the wines they are trying. The hope is to have contact between servers and guests only at the beginning and endof each reservation.
“In some ways, it’s nice,” said Byck of the virtual tutorial provided to guests. “People can move through it at their own pace. And rewind, if they want.”
At Buena Vista, charcuterie plates, salads and other gourmet foods are served in individual plastic boxes along with separate glasses of wine for each variety served.
Advertisement
And toasting — for any occasion — is strictly discouraged among non-household members.
That didn’t stop Boisset and the Count from giving an “air” toast with a visitor to the successful reopening of the winery.
Though the number of visitors is down from the same time last year, said Boisset, reservations were filling up and walk-ins, like the bicycling couple, were appearing — hoping to relax at a table atop the cobblestone courtyard of the 19th century winery.
And that’s something to raise your glass to, said Rob McMillan, executive vice president and founder of Silicon Valley Bank’s wine division. He said the typical small to medium-size California winery has taken a 43% revenue hit since the start of the pandemic — the result of combined losses in tasting room and restaurant sales.
Early indications suggest people are busting to return, he said, and although point-of-sale revenues plummeted, online sales skyrocketed — jumping from 5.3% of total sales from Jan. 1 to March 13, to 19.2% from March 20 to May 8.
It’s a sign that winery owners are finally heeding McMillan’s decades-old advice to move more sales and experiences, such as virtual tastings, to the internet and pay attention to consumer data.
“It sometimes takes something like a pandemic to unlock your mind,” he said, and to spur people to “try new ways to do things.”
For an industry that built itself on location-based experiences — vineyard tours and on-grounds tastings — the new model requires a “massive shift” in both self-perception and organizational effort, McMillan said.
According to his data, less than 20% of wineries have a full-time employee dedicated to analyzing consumer data.
And that, he said, is where winery owners need to be looking: Who is buying their wine? What are their interests? How can you tap into that to get them excited to buy more wine?
“Don’t advertise wine cruises if your clientele doesn’t like cruises,” McMillan said. “If the data shows your customers like tennis, consider tennis outings as a way to reach them.”
Jean Charles Boisset, owner of the Buena Vista Winery in Sonoma, Calif., greets guests on May 29. (Susanne Rust / Los Angeles Times)
As guests filtered into Buena Vista, Boisset — who was dressed in a royal blue suit with bright red socks and a matching monogrammed face mask — discussed the ways his company pivoted during the crisis.
For instance, he holds a virtual happy hour with the public every Saturday on Facebook, as well as more exclusive experiences for wine club members, such as private cooking lessons with him and a celebrity chef.
McMillan said that since March 20, wine club memberships grew for most wineries from roughly half of their revenue stream to slightly more than 60%.
He noted that Boisset, who owns dozens of wineries and specialty food shops throughout California and his native France, was ahead of the curve on online experience.
“The guy is as sharp as a fox,” McMillan said. “He’s willing to try different things.”
Including virtual history lessons with the Hungarian Count — reenacted by Sonoma actor and historian George Webber.
Standing in a top hat, satin vest and 19th century attire, Webber — who was channeling the Count — noted that Buena Vista, which touts itself as California’s “first premium winery,” has faced its share of catastrophes over the 163 years it has been around. So have other historic California wineries.
“You forget the cholera epidemic of the 1850s, which killed thousands,” he said, invoking the Count’s persona, minus the Hungarian accent. He then ticked off a list of other events, such as the 1918 flu pandemic, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, Prohibition and the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake — all of which occurred after his death — noting that “after every event, we came back even stronger.”
Byck, the co-owner of Paradise Ridge Winery, shares that sentiment.
“It’s not the first time we’ve had to think about how to adapt,” he said.
In October 2017, the Tubbs fire burned Paradise Ridge to the ground. Not long after, the business faced floods.
After two years, the winery finally reopened its pavilion in December 2019, only to be closed again because of the pandemic.
Byck said he’s hopeful his online sales and virtual experiences will make up for the loss in in-person revenue and tours.
He said that like Boisset’s Buena Vista, his winery has been focusing more on both virtual and off-location events. Before the pandemic, he and his team were regularly flying across the country to bring tasting-room experiences to the homes of out-of-state wine club members.
In addition, the winery’s new events venue has ample patio and outdoor space, providing room for dining and tasting experiences — as long as guests bring masks and keep socially distanced from one another while on the premises.
For the wineries that do have outdoor space, things will be easier.
On a recent Friday, Katie Bundschu, of Gundlach Bundschu Winery in Sonoma, greeted guests who’d reserved 90-minute slots for tastings on her breathtaking 120-acre property.
A DJ mixed tunes at the winery’s entrance while staff roamed the property, directing guests to the outdoor tasting and dining stations.
Bundschu said 45 reservations had been made for opening day, and roughly 200 each day for both Saturday and Sunday — a dip from typical weekend numbers, which generally hover around 600.
“It’s about time,” said Troy Tanga, a Gundlach Bundschu wine club member and Sonoma resident, who was relishing the experience — delighted to be back at the winery with a small group of friends. “We’re all ready to get back to business.”


latimes--2020-06-13--Officials don't see foul play in hanging death of Black man in Victorville, but family has questions

Two weeks after a Black man ’ s body was found hanging from a tree near the Victorville City Library , the San Bernardino County Sheriff ’ s Department said Saturday that foul play was not suspected in his death .
The department also said that the investigation into the death of Malcolm Harsch , 38 , is ongoing , according to a report in the “ There were no indications at the scene that suggested foul play ; however , the cause and manner of death are still pending , ” Sheriff ’ s Department spokeswoman Jodi Miller told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Department discovered Harsch ’ s body May 31 after receiving a dispatch call around 7 a.m. , officials said .
When firefighters arrived at the library , they found Harsch hanging from a nearby tree .
In a statement sent to the Victor Valley News , Harsch ’ s family in Ohio said they find it hard to accept that his death was a suicide .
They said that Harsch had recent conversations with his children about seeing them soon and that he did not seem to be depressed to anyone who knew @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were told that Harsch , at 6 foot 3 , wasn ’ t dangling from the tree and that there was blood on his shirt .
At the same time , there did not appear to be any evidence at the scene to suggest a struggle , they said .
They also noted that his body sat at the San Bernardino County coroner ’ s office for 12 days before an autopsy was performed .
“ The explanation of suicide does not seem plausible , ” the family wrote .
“ There are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ current racial tension , a Black man hanging himself from a tree definitely doesn ’ t sit well with us right now .
“ We want justice , not comfortable excuses , ” they wrote .
In the meantime , thousands of people gathered about 50 miles to the east in Palmdale on Saturday to mourn the death of another Black man who was found hanging from a tree near City Hall early Wednesday .
Authorities initially said they suspected suicide in the death of 24-year-old Robert Fuller , but then backed off @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Los Angeles County Sheriff ’ s Department , which serves Palmdale , is investigating the cause of death .
Los Angeles County Supervisor Kathryn Barger on Saturday asked the state attorney general to conduct an independent investigation .

A sign for the city of Victorville, where the body of Malcolm Harsch, 38, was discovered hanging from a tree outside the city library May 31.
Two weeks after a Black man’s body was found hanging from a tree near the Victorville City Library, the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department said Saturday that foul play was not suspected in his death.
The department also said that the investigation into the death of Malcolm Harsch, 38, is ongoing, according to a report in the Victor Valley News.
“There were no indications at the scene that suggested foul play; however, the cause and manner of death are still pending,” Sheriff’s Department spokeswoman Jodi Miller told the news outlet.
The Victorville Fire Department discovered Harsch’s body May 31 after receiving a dispatch call around 7 a.m., officials said. When firefighters arrived at the library, they found Harsch hanging from a nearby tree.
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In a statement sent to the Victor Valley News, Harsch’s family in Ohio said they find it hard to accept that his death was a suicide. They said that Harsch had recent conversations with his children about seeing them soon and that he did not seem to be depressed to anyone who knew him.
The family also said they were told that Harsch, at 6 foot 3, wasn’t dangling from the tree and that there was blood on his shirt. At the same time, there did not appear to be any evidence at the scene to suggest a struggle, they said. They also noted that his body sat at the San Bernardino County coroner’s office for 12 days before an autopsy was performed.
“The explanation of suicide does not seem plausible,” the family wrote. “There are many ways to die but considering the current racial tension, a Black man hanging himself from a tree definitely doesn’t sit well with us right now.
“We want justice, not comfortable excuses,” they wrote.
In the meantime, thousands of people gathered about 50 miles to the east in Palmdale on Saturday to mourn the death of another Black man who was found hanging from a tree near City Hall early Wednesday.
Authorities initially said they suspected suicide in the death of 24-year-old Robert Fuller, but then backed off that statement and ordered an autopsy. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, which serves Palmdale, is investigating the cause of death.
Los Angeles County Supervisor Kathryn Barger on Saturday asked the state attorney general to conduct an independent investigation.


latimes--2020-06-13--Healthcare workers, church group join L.A. police protests Saturday

Across Los Angeles Saturday , protesters marched to show outrage over the police killing of George Floyd and also to demand reforms including defunding police and criminal justice reform .
More than a hundred congregants and friends of the Cochran Avenue Baptist Church marched through Mid-Wilshire protesting the treatment of Black people across the country .
At one point Pastor Charles Johnson asked the marchers to take a knee .
He then led them in prayer .
“ We pray for a public witness to all the injustice that ’ s in our community , ” he proclaimed .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ winding through residential streets with a stop in a neighborhood known as Little Ethiopia .
They were heading to the La Brea Tar Pits .
Antoinette Jordan , 50 , marched alongside her boyfriend , Quinn .
Jordan attends the church and said it was her third protest march .
Throughout these protests , she ’ s been thinking of her adult sons who are medical caregivers .
The last few months have been hard for them .
“ You got COVID you got ta worry about , and then you got ta @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” she said .
These demonstrations “ help give people a voice , ” she said .
“ I learned : The louder you sing , the more audible you are , the better your message comes across.
” Outside the largest jail in Los Angeles County , doctors and medical workers donned their white jackets and took to the streets in downtown on Saturday to protest the treatment of Black people across America .
They drew a direct connection between the racial inequities in healthcare with the danger Black people face in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of “ care not cages ” and “ defund the sheriff ” rang through the air as two dozen sheriff ’ s deputies looked on .
“ We coming for your budget !
” one speaker yelled .
“ We coming for your pensions !
” In the crowd , medical workers spoke about how they have been held up as heroes during the coronavirus pandemic .
It led many of them to believe that they should use their platform to speak up about how deadly mass incarceration has been to communities of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ therapist in Pomona , wore a shirt with former NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick emblazoned on the front under his white jacket .
He said the last several weeks have been an awakening for him about the importance of speaking up .
“ I was on the sidelines .
I was paying attention but being silent makes you complicit , ” he said .
“ If I can come out on a day off it ’ s something.
” Some protesters spoke about how challenging it was for their patients to get satisfactory healthcare @ @ @ @ @ @ @ devoted to programs that house people , educate them and keep them healthy .
“ We ’ re not just here to do no harm , but to stop harm where it ’ s happening , ” said demonstrator Mark-Anthony Clayton-Johnson .

“All Black Lives Matter” is painted on Hollywood Boulevard in front of the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood Saturday.
Across Los Angeles Saturday, protesters marched to show outrage over the police killing of George Floyd and also to demand reforms including defunding police and criminal justice reform.
More than a hundred congregants and friends of the Cochran Avenue Baptist Church marched through Mid-Wilshire protesting the treatment of Black people across the country.
At one point Pastor Charles Johnson asked the marchers to take a knee. He then led them in prayer.
“We pray for a public witness to all the injustice that’s in our community,” he proclaimed.
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The marchers headed along San Vicente Boulevard, winding through residential streets with a stop in a neighborhood known as Little Ethiopia. They were heading to the La Brea Tar Pits.
Antoinette Jordan, 50, marched alongside her boyfriend, Quinn. Jordan attends the church and said it was her third protest march.
Throughout these protests, she’s been thinking of her adult sons who are medical caregivers. The last few months have been hard for them.
“You got COVID you gotta worry about, and then you gotta worry about being a Black man,” she said.
These demonstrations “help give people a voice,” she said. “I learned: The louder you sing, the more audible you are, the better your message comes across.”
Outside the largest jail in Los Angeles County, doctors and medical workers donned their white jackets and took to the streets in downtown on Saturday to protest the treatment of Black people across America. They drew a direct connection between the racial inequities in healthcare with the danger Black people face in jails and on the street.
Chants of “care not cages” and “defund the sheriff” rang through the air as two dozen sheriff’s deputies looked on.
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“We coming for your budget!” one speaker yelled. “We coming for your pensions!”
In the crowd, medical workers spoke about how they have been held up as heroes during the coronavirus pandemic. It led many of them to believe that they should use their platform to speak up about how deadly mass incarceration has been to communities of color.
Sapan Thakur, a physical therapist in Pomona, wore a shirt with former NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick emblazoned on the front under his white jacket. He said the last several weeks have been an awakening for him about the importance of speaking up.
“I was on the sidelines. I was paying attention but being silent makes you complicit,” he said. “If I can come out on a day off it’s something.”
Some protesters spoke about how challenging it was for their patients to get satisfactory healthcare and felt that more money should be devoted to programs that house people, educate them and keep them healthy.
“We’re not just here to do no harm, but to stop harm where it’s happening,” said demonstrator Mark-Anthony Clayton-Johnson.