latimes--2020-10-28--How one South L.A. neighborhood got a new luxury tower — and rents starting at $3,100

The sleek new residential tower called Arq is billed as luxury living for L.A. 's creative set , with commanding views and studio apartments for $ 3,121 per month .
Located at the edge of South Los Angeles , the 30-story high-rise is unlike any other residential building in that part of the city , looming over its neighbors .
It ’ s part of the Cumulus District , a development slated to house restaurants , a Whole Foods supermarket and more than 1,200 apartments .
Cumulus is the type of massive high-end development that ’ s typical for downtown @ @ @ @ @ @ @ L.A. ’ s West Adams neighborhood , which has struggled for decades to attract grocers and retailers , the project is viewed as transformational .
No one at City Hall was more essential to getting the project approved than Councilman Herb Wesson , who represents the area and is now running for county supervisor .
Wesson pushed for the site to be rezoned , eliminating the property ’ s 45-foot height limit , and voted to remove language aimed at ensuring the project would offer city-regulated affordable housing .
Now , with leasing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ project has resurrected debate whether Cumulus represents a resurgence for neighborhoods south of the 10 Freeway or the gentrification of one of Los Angeles ’ historically black neighborhoods , driving out people with limited means .
Activist Damien Goodmon , who challenged the project without success in 2016 , said he was stunned to learn that Arq ’ s two-bedroom apartments were recently listed for $ 5,292 per month and up .
“ Those are Beverly Hills prices in South L.A. , ” he said .
“ I ’ m not going to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said the city should have limited the project to eight stories and incorporated low-income affordable housing to reflect the incomes of the surrounding neighborhood .
Wesson , in turn , has said he simply followed the wishes of the community , which was “ overwhelmingly ” in favor of Cumulus , including the tower .
In 2016 , the neighbors wanted open space and a supermarket on the site , not more affordable housing , Wesson and an aide said earlier this year .
“ The community felt that they were surrounded by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ That , at this point in time , was not a big issue to them.
” Others in the community like what they see .
Eva Marie Aubry , a longtime resident of West Adams , praised Wesson for his handling of the project , saying it will inject new life into the neighborhood .
Aubry said Cumulus will keep her from having to drive so much to The Grove , the Fairfax district and Santa Monica to shop and dine .
“ I ’ d prefer to have something nice in my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Carmel Partners , the project ’ s developer , acknowledged the 300-unit Arq tower is catering to higher-income renters .
But the company said it plans to voluntarily charge “ workforce ” rents in at least 180 units of the project ’ s 900-unit second phase , now under construction .
Those units constitute affordable housing , the company said in a statement .
While Carmel has not revealed how much those rents will be , city officials say workforce housing can rent for up to $ 2,959 for a single , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 3,803 for a two-bedroom .
Those prices , tenant advocates say , will still be out of reach for most residents of West Adams and nearby L.A. neighborhoods .
Since the council approved the project , Carmel Partners has in a federal corruption probe that has led to the arrest of two council members .
However , prosecutors have made no mention of the Cumulus development and have not publicly accused Wesson of any wrongdoing .
Instead , the bribery investigation has focused largely on real estate projects in ‘ s downtown district @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Prosecutors have accused Huizar of securing financial benefits from Carmel while reducing the amount of affordable housing required in its project .
Huizar has in the case .
Earlier this year , Carmel Partners said the Huizar case featured “ numerous ” false or misleading conclusions , saying campaign donations were not the reason its downtown project was approved .
The push to build Cumulus , located on La Cienega Boulevard one block outside of Culver City , began in 2013 , when radio broadcasting company Cumulus Media announced it was .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ stations KLOS-FM and KABC-AM , was marketed to potential buyers as a chance to create a “ city within a city ” right next to an Expo light rail station .
Carmel Partners entered into a purchase agreement with Cumulus Media in mid-2014 , starting a two-year escrow period , according to a Carmel spokeswoman .
LA Radio LLC , the Cumulus subsidiary that owned the site , authorized Carmel to handle the project ’ s application at City Hall , according to planning records .
To make Cumulus a reality , Carmel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s zoning from manufacturing to one that could accommodate 1.9 million square feet of commercial development , including housing .
Getting Wesson on board was crucial , since L.A. council members typically defer to the wishes of the council member who represents the area where a project is proposed .
Carmel Partners filed its first paperwork on the Cumulus project in December 2014 .
From the beginning , Wesson and his staff made the project a priority , arranging a meeting between the development team and high-level city officials .
Behind the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ repeatedly pushed city agencies to move quickly on the project , according to emails reviewed by The Times .
“ Mike , this project is very important to us , ” wrote Wesson chief of staff Deron Williams in an email to Michael LoGrande , then the city ’ s planning director .
In February 2015 , Wesson scheduled a lunch meeting with a high-level Carmel executive at Morton ’ s Steakhouse , according to emails reviewed by The Times .
Neither Carmel nor Wesson would confirm whether the lunch took place .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the campaign for two ballot measures heavily backed by Wesson , which sought to change the city ’ s election dates , reported receiving $ 25,000 from a Carmel affiliate .
While city agencies were analyzing the proposal , Wesson ’ s son Patrick “ PJ ” Wesson picked up a job at the Cumulus radio complex on La Cienega , where the project was proposed .
On his page , the younger Wesson said he began handling social media and video production for KLOS & KABC Cumulus Radio in May 2015 .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wesson was employed by the company in L.A. from 2015 to 2019 , working for both stations .
She declined to comment further .
A Carmel spokeswoman said the firm had no contact with Wesson ’ s son at any time during the transaction or approval process .
“ Nor were we aware of his job search or hiring at the time , ” she said .
Wesson told The Times his son got the job on his own , saying the work was part-time .
The councilman also said he was unaware @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when the Cumulus project was under review .
“ I don ’ t think that I actually knew that [ his ] paychecks came from Cumulus until we got this inquiry from you , ” he said .
Wesson delivered a framed city proclamation to KLOS ’ s “ Heidi and Frank Show , ” where his son worked , in August 2015 .
The councilman told The Times earlier this year that he thought his son ’ s employers were KABC and KLOS and not the developer .
Wesson said that when @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Partners was handling the request to rezone the land and approve the tower , not Cumulus Media .
Patrick Wesson , 44 , did not respond to messages seeking comment .
The state ’ s conflict-of-interest law does not generally apply to scenarios involving politicians and their adult children .
Still , one ethics watchdog argued that Wesson had a responsibility to know the financial relationships of his family members , to ensure they did not improperly intersect with his public duties .
“ [ Wesson ] made a decision that affected the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employer , ” said Sergio Perez , former director of enforcement for the city ’ s Ethics Commission .
“ That connection should have been proactively disclosed.
” In August 2016 , three months after the council approved the 30-story tower , the Cumulus Media subsidiary sold the La Cienega property for $ 110.6 million .
That price would not have made sense without the council ’ s decision to rezone the property , real estate experts told The Times .
In its quarterly filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission , Cumulus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of $ 94 million from the sale .
Cumulus moved quickly through the city ’ s review process , said Chris Joseph , whose firm prepared the project ’ s environmental impact report .
Normally , reports for large-scale projects can take city agencies up to two years to process , he said .
The analysis for Cumulus reached city decision makers in half that time .
“ I ’ ve never seen one reviewed by city planning as fast as this , ” said Joseph , who has been preparing environmental impact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years .
When Mayor Eric Garcetti ’ s appointees on the planning commission took up the Cumulus project in 2016 , Wesson asked them to vote for it , saying it would bring investment south of the 10 Freeway .
Supporters called it a classic example of transit-oriented development and spoke excitedly about the prospect of new restaurants and a supermarket .
Still , some on the commission were troubled by the lack of affordable housing , saying they feared the luxury tower would spur nearby property owners to raise their own rents @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Neils Cotter , Carmel ’ s vice president for development , said new rent restrictions would jeopardize the project ’ s financing .
But Commissioner Renee Dake Wilson refused to back down , saying the vote to rezone would make the Cumulus site so much more valuable that affordable housing would not be “ a barricade ” to the developer ’ s profits .
“ The amount of increase in property value they ’ re getting on this , by developing it as a residential site , is really quite astounding , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the project .
But they said the developer would need to provide 55 units of affordable housing , serving families who earn 80 % to 120 % of the area median income , in order to receive approval to build more than 1,200 units .
Carmel ’ s lobbyist asked Wesson and the council to remove that requirement , saying the area was already “ well served ” by affordable housing .
The council agreed to do so and approved the project .
This month , Carmel issued a statement saying it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of area median income inside 180 of the project ’ s remaining 900 apartments .
Carmel does not intend to register its workforce units with the city , which works to ensure developers keep their affordable housing promises .

The sleek new residential tower called Arq is billed as luxury living for L.A.’s creative set, with commanding views and studio apartments for $3,121 per month.
Located at the edge of South Los Angeles, the 30-story high-rise is unlike any other residential building in that part of the city, looming over its neighbors. It’s part of the Cumulus District, a development slated to house restaurants, a Whole Foods supermarket and more than 1,200 apartments.
Cumulus is the type of massive high-end development that’s typical for downtown, Hollywood or Century City. In L.A.’s West Adams neighborhood, which has struggled for decades to attract grocers and retailers, the project is viewed as transformational.
No one at City Hall was more essential to getting the project approved than Councilman Herb Wesson, who represents the area and is now running for county supervisor. Wesson pushed for the site to be rezoned, eliminating the property’s 45-foot height limit, and voted to remove language aimed at ensuring the project would offer city-regulated affordable housing.
Advertisement
Now, with leasing activities just getting under way, the project has resurrected debate over whether Cumulus represents a resurgence for neighborhoods south of the 10 Freeway or the gentrification of one of Los Angeles’ historically black neighborhoods, driving out people with limited means.
Activist Damien Goodmon, who challenged the project without success in 2016, said he was stunned to learn that Arq’s two-bedroom apartments were recently listed for $5,292 per month and up.
“Those are Beverly Hills prices in South L.A.,” he said. “I’m not going to lie. It scares me.”
The Cumulus District project, across the street from an Expo light rail station, is going up at the corner of Jefferson and La Cienega boulevards in Los Angeles. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Goodmon said the city should have limited the project to eight stories and incorporated low-income affordable housing to reflect the incomes of the surrounding neighborhood. Wesson, in turn, has said he simply followed the wishes of the community, which was “overwhelmingly” in favor of Cumulus, including the tower.
In 2016, the neighbors wanted open space and a supermarket on the site, not more affordable housing, Wesson and an aide said earlier this year.
“The community felt that they were surrounded by affordable,” Wesson said. “That, at this point in time, was not a big issue to them.”
Advertisement
Others in the community like what they see.
Eva Marie Aubry, a longtime resident of West Adams, praised Wesson for his handling of the project, saying it will inject new life into the neighborhood. Aubry said Cumulus will keep her from having to drive so much to The Grove, the Fairfax district and Santa Monica to shop and dine.
“I’d prefer to have something nice in my own neighborhood,” said the 77-year-old.
Los Angeles City Councilman Herb Wesson, pictured in 2015, the year his son began working for Cumulus Media. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times)
Carmel Partners, the project’s developer, acknowledged the 300-unit Arq tower is catering to higher-income renters. But the company said it plans to voluntarily charge “workforce” rents in at least 180 units of the project’s 900-unit second phase, now under construction. Those units constitute affordable housing, the company said in a statement.
While Carmel has not revealed how much those rents will be, city officials say workforce housing can rent for up to $2,959 for a single, $3,379 for a one-bedroom and $3,803 for a two-bedroom. Those prices, tenant advocates say, will still be out of reach for most residents of West Adams and nearby L.A. neighborhoods.
Since the council approved the project, Carmel Partners has come under scrutiny in a federal corruption probe that has led to the arrest of two council members. However, prosecutors have made no mention of the Cumulus development and have not publicly accused Wesson of any wrongdoing.
Advertisement
Instead, the bribery investigation has focused largely on real estate projects in Councilman Jose Huizar ‘s downtown district, including a 35-story Carmel Partners tower. Prosecutors have accused Huizar of securing financial benefits from Carmel while reducing the amount of affordable housing required in its project.
Huizar has pleaded not guilty in the case. Earlier this year, Carmel Partners said the Huizar case featured “numerous” false or misleading conclusions, saying campaign donations were not the reason its downtown project was approved.
A construction worker takes in the view from a floor of the 30-story residential tower called Arq on La Cienega Boulevard. (Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
The push to build Cumulus, located on La Cienega Boulevard one block outside of Culver City, began in 2013, when radio broadcasting company Cumulus Media announced it was selling the 10-acre site . The property, home to Cumulus radio stations KLOS-FM and KABC-AM, was marketed to potential buyers as a chance to create a “city within a city” right next to an Expo light rail station.
Carmel Partners entered into a purchase agreement with Cumulus Media in mid-2014, starting a two-year escrow period, according to a Carmel spokeswoman. LA Radio LLC, the Cumulus subsidiary that owned the site, authorized Carmel to handle the project’s application at City Hall, according to planning records.
To make Cumulus a reality, Carmel needed the council to change the property’s zoning from manufacturing to one that could accommodate 1.9 million square feet of commercial development, including housing. Getting Wesson on board was crucial, since L.A. council members typically defer to the wishes of the council member who represents the area where a project is proposed.
Carmel Partners filed its first paperwork on the Cumulus project in December 2014. From the beginning, Wesson and his staff made the project a priority, arranging a meeting between the development team and high-level city officials.
Behind the scenes, Wesson’s top deputy repeatedly pushed city agencies to move quickly on the project, according to emails reviewed by The Times.
“Mike, this project is very important to us,” wrote Wesson chief of staff Deron Williams in an email to Michael LoGrande, then the city’s planning director.
Advertisement
In February 2015, Wesson scheduled a lunch meeting with a high-level Carmel executive at Morton’s Steakhouse, according to emails reviewed by The Times. Neither Carmel nor Wesson would confirm whether the lunch took place.
Five days after the planned meeting, the campaign for two ballot measures heavily backed by Wesson, which sought to change the city’s election dates, reported receiving $25,000 from a Carmel affiliate.
While city agencies were analyzing the proposal, Wesson’s son Patrick “PJ” Wesson picked up a job at the Cumulus radio complex on La Cienega, where the project was proposed. On his LinkedIn page, the younger Wesson said he began handling social media and video production for KLOS & KABC Cumulus Radio in May 2015.
Rents for a single apartment at the residential tower known as Arq are being listed for $3,121 per month, according to the project’s website.
(Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
A Cumulus Media spokeswoman confirmed that Patrick Wesson was employed by the company in L.A. from 2015 to 2019, working for both stations. She declined to comment further.
A Carmel spokeswoman said the firm had no contact with Wesson’s son at any time during the transaction or approval process. “Nor were we aware of his job search or hiring at the time,” she said.
Advertisement
Wesson told The Times his son got the job on his own, saying the work was part-time. The councilman also said he was unaware that Patrick Wesson was employed by Cumulus when the Cumulus project was under review.
“I don’t think that I actually knew that [his] paychecks came from Cumulus until we got this inquiry from you,” he said.
Wesson delivered a framed city proclamation to KLOS’s “Heidi and Frank Show,” where his son worked, in August 2015. The councilman told The Times earlier this year that he thought his son’s employers were KABC and KLOS and not the developer.
Wesson said that when the Cumulus application was filed, Carmel Partners was handling the request to rezone the land and approve the tower, not Cumulus Media.
Patrick Wesson, 44, did not respond to messages seeking comment.
The Cumulus District project under construction. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Advertisement
The state’s conflict-of-interest law does not generally apply to scenarios involving politicians and their adult children. Still, one ethics watchdog argued that Wesson had a responsibility to know the financial relationships of his family members, to ensure they did not improperly intersect with his public duties.
“[Wesson] made a decision that affected the financial well-being of his son’s employer,” said Sergio Perez, former director of enforcement for the city’s Ethics Commission. “That connection should have been proactively disclosed.”
In August 2016, three months after the council approved the 30-story tower, the Cumulus Media subsidiary sold the La Cienega property for $110.6 million. That price would not have made sense without the council’s decision to rezone the property, real estate experts told The Times.
In its quarterly filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission, Cumulus Media said it recorded a net gain of $94 million from the sale.
Cumulus moved quickly through the city’s review process, said Chris Joseph, whose firm prepared the project’s environmental impact report. Normally, reports for large-scale projects can take city agencies up to two years to process, he said. The analysis for Cumulus reached city decision makers in half that time.
“I’ve never seen one reviewed by city planning as fast as this,” said Joseph, who has been preparing environmental impact reports in L.A. for more than 30 years.
Advertisement
When Mayor Eric Garcetti’s appointees on the planning commission took up the Cumulus project in 2016, Wesson asked them to vote for it, saying it would bring investment south of the 10 Freeway. Supporters called it a classic example of transit-oriented development and spoke excitedly about the prospect of new restaurants and a supermarket.
Still, some on the commission were troubled by the lack of affordable housing, saying they feared the luxury tower would spur nearby property owners to raise their own rents, displacing families in South Los Angeles.
The Cumulus Media property, when it was up for sale in 2013, was occupied by KLOS-FM and KABC-AM. (CBRE Group Inc.)
Neils Cotter, Carmel’s vice president for development, said new rent restrictions would jeopardize the project’s financing. But Commissioner Renee Dake Wilson refused to back down, saying the vote to rezone would make the Cumulus site so much more valuable that affordable housing would not be “a barricade” to the developer’s profits.
“The amount of increase in property value they’re getting on this, by developing it as a residential site, is really quite astounding,” she added.
Commissioners signed off on the project. But they said the developer would need to provide 55 units of affordable housing, serving families who earn 80% to 120% of the area median income, in order to receive approval to build more than 1,200 units.
Advertisement
Carmel’s lobbyist asked Wesson and the council to remove that requirement, saying the area was already “well served” by affordable housing. The council agreed to do so and approved the project.
This month, Carmel issued a statement saying it will voluntarily set rents at 150% of area median income inside 180 of the project’s remaining 900 apartments. Carmel does not intend to register its workforce units with the city, which works to ensure developers keep their affordable housing promises.


latimes--2020-10-28--Seven bodies, nothing stolen: Were killings at Riverside marijuana grow 'a message'?

The boy knew how his mother made a living .
He also knew the danger inherent in it .
As recently as two months ago , he had stayed at a property in Aguanga , a small community in rural Riverside County , where his mother , helped by recent immigrants from Laos , grew marijuana .
By day , he watered the plants and lugged buckets full of soil and supplements that helped them grow ; by night , he slept on a small cot in a trailer alongside his mother , her boyfriend and her friend .
Though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ marijuana made her a bad person , the 16-year-old recalled an unease , the sense that violence could at any moment intrude on that dusty , far-flung property .
“ It ’ s drugs , ” he said .
“ And anything can happen when you ’ re dealing drugs.
” Half an hour after midnight on Sept. 7 , Riverside sheriff ’ s deputies were called to the property , where they found a woman badly shot and in the last hours of her life .
She would die at a local @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the deputies found the bodies of six people , all of them shot to death .
The boy ’ s mother , Phone Chankhamany , was among the dead .
One month later , Riverside County ’ s worst mass killing in recent memory remains cloaked in mystery .
The authorities have not said if they ’ ve turned up a motive or narrowed in on any suspects .
The Riverside Sheriff ’ s Department has declined requests for interviews and placed security holds on the coroner ’ s reports , blocking their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ according to Chankhamany ’ s son , were mostly new immigrants from Laos — have little if any paper trail .
No property records , court cases or other public documents that might offer insight into their lives or leads to relatives who could .
Yet what facts have emerged illustrate a brutal point : Violence haunts California ’ s illegal marijuana market , which , law enforcement authorities concede , dwarfs its fledgling , legal counterpart and comprises a sweeping array of players , from mom-and-pop grows to sophisticated drug trafficking organizations @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a large marijuana cultivation and processing site — a “ major organized-crime type of an operation , ” Sheriff Chad Bianco said .
Everyone on the property — living and dead — was Laotian .
The dead were five women , ages 44 to 59 , and two men , 53 and 64 .
In addition to Chankhamany , 54 , their names were Souphanh Pienthiene , Thongpath Luangkoth , Samantha Sourignasak , Khamphour Nanthavongdovane , and Vikham and Khamtoune Silimanotham .
Chankhamany ’ s son , whom The Times is not naming @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had overseen the grow .
She was born in Laos and came to the United States about 16 years ago , he said in an interview at his uncle ’ s home .
Several of his mother ’ s friends worked at the grow , he said , alongside a revolving cast of recent immigrants from Laos , who , unable to speak English and struggling to find employment , would work and live on the site until they made enough cash to move on .
“ Usually , when they come to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ first thing they do to make money , ” he said .
About 20 people were living on the Aguanga property , the sheriff said .
Some had stayed in a beige , two-story house on whose front door was taped a handwritten note that read in English , “ Welcome to our home , please take your shoe off before enter the house , ” and a similar message beneath it in Lao .
Others slept in tents and a trailer .
A day after the shootings , Bianco said his detectives @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had carried them out .
If that theory has changed , the Sheriff ’ s Department will not say .
Wade Shannon , assistant special agent in charge of the Drug Enforcement Administration ’ s operations in Riverside and San Bernardino counties , noted the slayings came during peak harvest time , yet there was no sign the site had been robbed .
“ This wasn ’ t a rip-off , ” he said in an interview .
“ If you ’ re not robbing someone , you ’ re sending a message.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ operating in someone ’ s territory or eating into someone ’ s profits .
“ This was sending a message .
The question is : Who did it ?
” To consider who might have carried out the murders , consider where they took place : the Anza Valley , a longtime hub for marijuana cultivation , and beyond that , the Inland Empire , which Shannon described as “ ground zero for drug trafficking in the United States.
” The region is favored by drug traffickers for the same reason it is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other major thoroughfares weave through it , leading to various distribution points across the country .
Huge truck yards in Rialto , Colton and Fontana offer a pool of potential couriers , and the U.S.-Mexican border — across , over and beneath which drugs and the proceeds of their sale flow — is not far away .
Yet unlike other drugs such as methamphetamine , which is typically synthesized in “ super-labs ” in Mexico and smuggled north , much of the marijuana coursing out of the Inland Empire is homegrown , Shannon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ drugs and more difficult to secrete in a cross-border shipment .
“ If you ’ re wearing baggy pants , you can hide a pound of meth in your pocket , ” he said .
“ Marijuana , not so much.
” For this reason , many drug traffickers prefer growing marijuana in the United States to raising it elsewhere and trying to slip it into the country .
Shannon divided the region ’ s illegal marijuana cultivators into three loose groups , each with a distinct modus operandi .
Chinese nationals , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grows within suburban rental homes .
They typically divert electricity before it reaches the meter and use it to power high-wattage grow lights and irrigation systems , he said .
They will grow inside a rental home for a few years , then abandon it .
By that time , Shannon said , the house is all but ruined by the humidity , which breeds mold , and the reek of marijuana , which seeps into the drywall .
Mexican drug trafficking groups , Shannon said , oversee the largest cultivation sites in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ carved out of public forest land , tended by low-paid laborers , irrigated with water siphoned from public sources and doused in illegal pesticides that can poison groundwater .
A bonus of growing marijuana on public land , he added , is that if the operators are prosecuted and their property subject to forfeiture , the government can not seize the land because it already owns it .
The third group in the Inland Empire are Laotian growers , Shannon said .
Concentrated in the Anza Valley , they typically raise their crop @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on private land .
At the scene in Aguanga where seven people were slain , deputies found a crude , wooden grow house covered with a black tarp , as well as a lab used to extract THC from marijuana plants .
They recovered more than 1,000 pounds of processed marijuana , valued in the millions , the sheriff said .
Chankhamany ’ s son said he never learned to whom his mother sold her crop , although she once mentioned driving a load down to Tijuana .
She was in this business @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ She ’ s not a bad person .
It was weed — it wasn ’ t like it was hardcore meth.
” Though his mother lived in the Temecula area and he in a different state , she called every day , he said , to ask how his day had gone and what he ’ d eaten .
“ She always said she loved me before she hung up , ” he remembered .
This summer , after finishing his freshman year of high school , he stayed with his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crop from mid-July through the first week of August .
He would have stayed longer , he said , had some friends from school not convinced him to return for a birthday .
“ If I was still there , ” he said slowly , “ I don ’ t know what would have happened.
” The boy recalled that two or three years ago , he noticed several faces were absent from the grow , faces of people he believed were business partners of his mother .
When he asked about them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re not friends anymore.
” He sensed they had not parted on good terms .
Now , when he wonders who could have killed his mother , he revisits that exchange , those faces .
“ I don ’ t think it was a robbery , ” he said .
“ I think it was someone who didn ’ t like my mom .
”

Aerial view of the property in Aguanga where seven people were shot to death over Labor Day weekend at an illegal marijuana grow.
The boy knew how his mother made a living. He also knew the danger inherent in it.
As recently as two months ago, he had stayed at a property in Aguanga, a small community in rural Riverside County, where his mother, helped by recent immigrants from Laos, grew marijuana.
By day, he watered the plants and lugged buckets full of soil and supplements that helped them grow; by night, he slept on a small cot in a trailer alongside his mother, her boyfriend and her friend.
Advertisement
Though he did not think his mother growing marijuana made her a bad person, the 16-year-old recalled an unease, the sense that violence could at any moment intrude on that dusty, far-flung property.
“It’s drugs,” he said. “And anything can happen when you’re dealing drugs.”
Half an hour after midnight on Sept. 7, Riverside sheriff’s deputies were called to the property, where they found a woman badly shot and in the last hours of her life. She would die at a local hospital. Elsewhere on the site, the deputies found the bodies of six people, all of them shot to death. The boy’s mother, Phone Chankhamany, was among the dead.
One month later, Riverside County’s worst mass killing in recent memory remains cloaked in mystery. The authorities have not said if they’ve turned up a motive or narrowed in on any suspects. The Riverside Sheriff’s Department has declined requests for interviews and placed security holds on the coroner’s reports, blocking their disclosure.
The victims — who, according to Chankhamany’s son, were mostly new immigrants from Laos — have little if any paper trail. No property records, court cases or other public documents that might offer insight into their lives or leads to relatives who could.
Yet what facts have emerged illustrate a brutal point: Violence haunts California’s illegal marijuana market, which, law enforcement authorities concede, dwarfs its fledgling, legal counterpart and comprises a sweeping array of players, from mom-and-pop grows to sophisticated drug trafficking organizations.
Advertisement
The murder scene in Aguanga was a large marijuana cultivation and processing site — a “major organized-crime type of an operation,” Sheriff Chad Bianco said. Everyone on the property — living and dead — was Laotian.
The dead were five women, ages 44 to 59, and two men, 53 and 64. In addition to Chankhamany, 54, their names were Souphanh Pienthiene, Thongpath Luangkoth, Samantha Sourignasak, Khamphour Nanthavongdovane, and Vikham and Khamtoune Silimanotham.
Chankhamany’s son, whom The Times is not naming for his safety, said his mother had overseen the grow. She was born in Laos and came to the United States about 16 years ago, he said in an interview at his uncle’s home.
Several of his mother’s friends worked at the grow, he said, alongside a revolving cast of recent immigrants from Laos, who, unable to speak English and struggling to find employment, would work and live on the site until they made enough cash to move on.
“Usually, when they come to the U.S., it’s the first thing they do to make money,” he said.
About 20 people were living on the Aguanga property, the sheriff said. Some had stayed in a beige, two-story house on whose front door was taped a handwritten note that read in English, “Welcome to our home, please take your shoe off before enter the house,” and a similar message beneath it in Lao. Others slept in tents and a trailer.
A day after the shootings, Bianco said his detectives were pursuing the theory that multiple assailants had carried them out. If that theory has changed, the Sheriff’s Department will not say.
Wade Shannon, assistant special agent in charge of the Drug Enforcement Administration’s operations in Riverside and San Bernardino counties, noted the slayings came during peak harvest time, yet there was no sign the site had been robbed. “This wasn’t a rip-off,” he said in an interview. “If you’re not robbing someone, you’re sending a message.”
Shannon theorized the growers were either operating in someone’s territory or eating into someone’s profits. “This was sending a message. The question is: Who did it?”
To consider who might have carried out the murders, consider where they took place: the Anza Valley, a longtime hub for marijuana cultivation, and beyond that, the Inland Empire, which Shannon described as “ground zero for drug trafficking in the United States.”
The region is favored by drug traffickers for the same reason it is favored by shipping companies: Interstates and other major thoroughfares weave through it, leading to various distribution points across the country. Huge truck yards in Rialto, Colton and Fontana offer a pool of potential couriers, and the U.S.-Mexican border — across, over and beneath which drugs and the proceeds of their sale flow — is not far away.
Yet unlike other drugs such as methamphetamine, which is typically synthesized in “super-labs” in Mexico and smuggled north, much of the marijuana coursing out of the Inland Empire is homegrown, Shannon said.
Marijuana is bulkier than other drugs and more difficult to secrete in a cross-border shipment. “If you’re wearing baggy pants, you can hide a pound of meth in your pocket,” he said. “Marijuana, not so much.” For this reason, many drug traffickers prefer growing marijuana in the United States to raising it elsewhere and trying to slip it into the country.
Shannon divided the region’s illegal marijuana cultivators into three loose groups, each with a distinct modus operandi. Chinese nationals, he said, have set up sophisticated grows within suburban rental homes. They typically divert electricity before it reaches the meter and use it to power high-wattage grow lights and irrigation systems, he said.
They will grow inside a rental home for a few years, then abandon it. By that time, Shannon said, the house is all but ruined by the humidity, which breeds mold, and the reek of marijuana, which seeps into the drywall.
Mexican drug trafficking groups, Shannon said, oversee the largest cultivation sites in the Inland Empire — fields that are carved out of public forest land, tended by low-paid laborers, irrigated with water siphoned from public sources and doused in illegal pesticides that can poison groundwater. A bonus of growing marijuana on public land, he added, is that if the operators are prosecuted and their property subject to forfeiture, the government cannot seize the land because it already owns it.
The third group in the Inland Empire are Laotian growers, Shannon said. Concentrated in the Anza Valley, they typically raise their crop in plywood sheds and grow houses erected on private land.
At the scene in Aguanga where seven people were slain, deputies found a crude, wooden grow house covered with a black tarp, as well as a lab used to extract THC from marijuana plants. They recovered more than 1,000 pounds of processed marijuana, valued in the millions, the sheriff said.
Chankhamany’s son said he never learned to whom his mother sold her crop, although she once mentioned driving a load down to Tijuana. She was in this business solely to make money, he said. “She’s not a bad person. It was weed — it wasn’t like it was hardcore meth.”
Though his mother lived in the Temecula area and he in a different state, she called every day, he said, to ask how his day had gone and what he’d eaten. “She always said she loved me before she hung up,” he remembered.
This summer, after finishing his freshman year of high school, he stayed with his mother in Aguanga, helping tend her crop from mid-July through the first week of August. He would have stayed longer, he said, had some friends from school not convinced him to return for a birthday.
“If I was still there,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what would have happened.”
The boy recalled that two or three years ago, he noticed several faces were absent from the grow, faces of people he believed were business partners of his mother. When he asked about them, she said, “They’re not friends anymore.”
He sensed they had not parted on good terms. Now, when he wonders who could have killed his mother, he revisits that exchange, those faces.
“I don’t think it was a robbery,” he said. “I think it was someone who didn’t like my mom.”


latimes--2020-10-28--Racial inequity in California is real. But is Prop. 16 the answer?

California voters are being asked again whether they believe affirmative action based on race , ethnicity and gender is necessary to combat discrimination — or is itself discriminatory .
Supporters of Proposition 16 say it ’ s needed to level the playing field and to mitigate systemic racism .
They point out that Latino and Black students are underrepresented at the University of California compared with their high school graduation numbers .
And supporters argue that businesses owned by Latino , and Black people and women often get short shrift in government contracting that historically tends to favor “ the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the ballot measure contend that when one group is favored at the expense of another — when university slots are granted or denied because of a student ’ s race or ethnicity — that ’ s discriminatory .
Proposition 16 would repeal a bitterly fought 1996 ballot measure that banned affirmative action in public education , contracting or employment based on race , ethnicity , gender or national origin .
That measure was Proposition 209 , and the campaign was nasty .
Opponents of 209 ran TV ads equating the measure ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ robes and hoods .
Critics of 209 saw a window of opportunity to repeal it when a white Minneapolis cop killed a Black man , George Floyd , by kneeling on his neck .
That galvanized the Black Lives Matter movement and inspired the California Legislature to place Proposition 16 on next Tuesday ’ s ballot .
Systemic racism isn ’ t easily defined .
But one thing it means is that the system is stacked against many people of color from birth .
Children living in low-wealth communities attend overcrowded schools that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ adequately prepare them for college .
Their teachers are young , inexperienced and anxious to move on to more affluent , better-equipped campuses .
Latino students often have language barriers .
Parents who didn ’ t go to college might be in low-paying jobs and don ’ t have the influential contacts who could help guide their children into prestigious universities .
That ’ s just for starters .
“ The language of a colorblind public policy is a political head fake , ” says Los Angeles County Supervisor Mark Ridley-Thomas , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most significant blemishes on California ’ s records is Prop .
209.
” Michele Siqueiros , president of the Campaign for College Opportunity , which fights to expand student access to public universities , says : “ We have a system that provides preferential treatment to wealthier students from top high schools .
Schools in wealthier communities have access to more resources .
“ There ’ s inequality in terms of the quality of education that students receive in California and everyplace.
” There is no question that many Black and Latino people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and inequities , whether that ’ s measured by economics or vital services such as healthcare and higher education .
Proposition 16 critics point out , however , that inequality often is complicated .
Although white and Asian people are generally better off economically than Black and Latino people , there are some white and Asian students who come from poor backgrounds and are trying to be first-generation college grads .
Would they be discriminated against if Black and Latino applicants were given preference in admittance to the University of California ?
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ immigrant families today going through what I went through when I first came to this country from communist China at age 10 not speaking any English , ” says Ying Ma , communications director for the No on 16 campaign .
“ At the very least I ’ d expect the state not to discriminate against me or people who look like me.
” “ Proposition 16 is just outright discrimination , ” says Betty Chu , former mayor of Monterey Park and once an attorney for the L.A. Unified School District and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s aimed at decreasing the number of Asians in the public universities and increasing the population of Latinos.
” That ’ s denied by Proposition 16 supporters , who say access should be expanded for everyone .
UC undergraduate enrollment last fall was 33 % Asian , 25 % Latino , 21 % white and 4 % Black , according to the university website .
Since 1999 , the Latino percentage has doubled from 12 % and the whites ’ fallen by nearly half from 38 % .
Asian and Black percentages @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2 percentage points and up 1 , respectively .
The pool of high school graduates breaks down this way : 51 % Latino , 26 % white , 13 % Asian and about 6 % Black , according to the Public Policy Institute of California .
Those numbers are troubling and point to the need to find ways to get more Latino and Black students into UC schools .
This is essential to reducing inequity and helping to generate a more diverse slate of future leaders and innovators in California .
Richard Sander @ @ @ @ @ @ @ activist in housing integration and leading opponent of Proposition 16 , notes that UC has been using affirmative action based on socioeconomics — rather than race and ethnicity — to help and recruit students from poor families and underperforming schools .
Of those students , 90 % are Black or Latino , he says .
But Siqueiros asks : “ If we ’ re doing all these other things to try to get at race , why not just directly use race ” in affirmative action ?
Proposition 16 is supported by two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Commerce and the California Business Roundtable .
“ Prop .
16 will help allow small , minority and women-owned businesses better access to capital , especially in applying for and receiving important state contracts , ” Roundtable Chairman Brett Bittel says .
Gilbert R. Vasquez , former chairman of the Los Angeles Latino Chamber of Commerce and partner in a large minority-owned CPA firm , says , “ There ’ s a constant barrier for ethnic minorities and women ” who seek government contracts .
Government bureaucrats who award contracts “ don @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they ’ ve been doing business primarily with white-owned firms , ” he says .
“ They need to bring in new vendors , not just go to the people they know .
We ’ re just sort of afterthoughts.
” Independent polling shows Proposition 16 headed for defeat .
But it ’ s supported by Democrats , and they ’ re apparently voting in record numbers .
So , a surprise outcome is conceivable .
I ’ m a “ no ” vote .
I can ’ t bring myself to erase @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ the state shall not discriminate against , or grant preferential treatment ... on the basis of race , sex , color , ethnicity or national origin… ” California has a long history of doing just the opposite .
And clearly Black and Latino students need heftier boosts .
UC should significantly step up its program — with a lot more state money from Sacramento — of helping high school students based on their socioeconomic status .
More tutoring and recruiting of students desiring to become the first of their families to attend @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Legislature should make socioeconomic diversity in our public universities a top priority .
California ’ s governors and legislators still haven ’ t fulfilled their decades-long promise of significantly improving inner-city schools .
That would help disadvantaged kids of all races and ethnicities , and particularly Latino and Black students .
If beefed-up schools and socioeconomic-based affirmative action don ’ t get more Latino and Black students into the UC system , then maybe we ’ ll need to rethink racial and ethnic preferences .
And go to the voters with another @ @ @

California voters are being asked again whether they believe affirmative action based on race, ethnicity and gender is necessary to combat discrimination — or is itself discriminatory.
Supporters of Proposition 16 say it’s needed to level the playing field and to mitigate systemic racism.
They point out that Latino and Black students are underrepresented at the University of California compared with their high school graduation numbers.
Advertisement
And supporters argue that businesses owned by Latino, and Black people and women often get short shrift in government contracting that historically tends to favor “the old boys’ network.”
Opponents of the ballot measure contend that when one group is favored at the expense of another — when university slots are granted or denied because of a student’s race or ethnicity — that’s discriminatory.
Proposition 16 would repeal a bitterly fought 1996 ballot measure that banned affirmative action in public education, contracting or employment based on race, ethnicity, gender or national origin.
That measure was Proposition 209, and the campaign was nasty. Opponents of 209 ran TV ads equating the measure’s backers with Ku Klux Klansmen in white robes and hoods.
Critics of 209 saw a window of opportunity to repeal it when a white Minneapolis cop killed a Black man, George Floyd, by kneeling on his neck. That galvanized the Black Lives Matter movement and inspired the California Legislature to place Proposition 16 on next Tuesday’s ballot.
Systemic racism isn’t easily defined. But one thing it means is that the system is stacked against many people of color from birth.
Children living in low-wealth communities attend overcrowded schools that don’t have the resources to adequately prepare them for college. Their teachers are young, inexperienced and anxious to move on to more affluent, better-equipped campuses. Latino students often have language barriers.
Advertisement
Parents who didn’t go to college might be in low-paying jobs and don’t have the influential contacts who could help guide their children into prestigious universities. That’s just for starters.
“The language of a colorblind public policy is a political head fake,” says Los Angeles County Supervisor Mark Ridley-Thomas, who is Black. “One of the most significant blemishes on California’s records is Prop. 209.”
Michele Siqueiros, president of the Campaign for College Opportunity, which fights to expand student access to public universities, says: “We have a system that provides preferential treatment to wealthier students from top high schools. Schools in wealthier communities have access to more resources.
“There’s inequality in terms of the quality of education that students receive in California and everyplace.”
There is no question that many Black and Latino people deal with an outsized share of disadvantages and inequities, whether that’s measured by economics or vital services such as healthcare and higher education.
Proposition 16 critics point out, however, that inequality often is complicated. Although white and Asian people are generally better off economically than Black and Latino people, there are some white and Asian students who come from poor backgrounds and are trying to be first-generation college grads. Would they be discriminated against if Black and Latino applicants were given preference in admittance to the University of California?
“There are lots of poor kids from immigrant families today going through what I went through when I first came to this country from communist China at age 10 not speaking any English,” says Ying Ma, communications director for the No on 16 campaign.
“At the very least I’d expect the state not to discriminate against me or people who look like me.”
“Proposition 16 is just outright discrimination,” says Betty Chu, former mayor of Monterey Park and once an attorney for the L.A. Unified School District and L.A. Community College District.
“It’s aimed at decreasing the number of Asians in the public universities and increasing the population of Latinos.”
That’s denied by Proposition 16 supporters, who say access should be expanded for everyone.
UC undergraduate enrollment last fall was 33% Asian, 25% Latino, 21% white and 4% Black, according to the university website. Since 1999, the Latino percentage has doubled from 12% and the whites’ fallen by nearly half from 38%. Asian and Black percentages didn’t change much — down 2 percentage points and up 1, respectively.
The pool of high school graduates breaks down this way: 51% Latino, 26% white, 13% Asian and about 6% Black, according to the Public Policy Institute of California.
Those numbers are troubling and point to the need to find ways to get more Latino and Black students into UC schools. This is essential to reducing inequity and helping to generate a more diverse slate of future leaders and innovators in California.
Richard Sander, a UCLA law professor, longtime activist in housing integration and leading opponent of Proposition 16, notes that UC has been using affirmative action based on socioeconomics — rather than race and ethnicity — to help and recruit students from poor families and underperforming schools. Of those students, 90% are Black or Latino, he says.
But Siqueiros asks: “If we’re doing all these other things to try to get at race, why not just directly use race” in affirmative action?
Proposition 16 is supported by two major business groups — the California Chamber of Commerce and the California Business Roundtable.
“Prop. 16 will help allow small, minority and women-owned businesses better access to capital, especially in applying for and receiving important state contracts,” Roundtable Chairman Brett Bittel says .
Gilbert R. Vasquez, former chairman of the Los Angeles Latino Chamber of Commerce and partner in a large minority-owned CPA firm, says, “There’s a constant barrier for ethnic minorities and women” who seek government contracts.
Government bureaucrats who award contracts “don’t want to change, and they’ve been doing business primarily with white-owned firms,” he says. “They need to bring in new vendors, not just go to the people they know. We’re just sort of afterthoughts.”
Independent polling shows Proposition 16 headed for defeat. But it’s supported by Democrats, and they’re apparently voting in record numbers. So, a surprise outcome is conceivable.
I’m a “no” vote. I can’t bring myself to erase from the California Constitution language that decrees “the state shall not discriminate against, or grant preferential treatment ... on the basis of race, sex, color, ethnicity or national origin…”
California has a long history of doing just the opposite.
And clearly Black and Latino students need heftier boosts.
UC should significantly step up its program — with a lot more state money from Sacramento — of helping high school students based on their socioeconomic status. More tutoring and recruiting of students desiring to become the first of their families to attend college.
Gov. Gavin Newsom and the Legislature should make socioeconomic diversity in our public universities a top priority.
California’s governors and legislators still haven’t fulfilled their decades-long promise of significantly improving inner-city schools. That would help disadvantaged kids of all races and ethnicities, and particularly Latino and Black students.
If beefed-up schools and socioeconomic-based affirmative action don’t get more Latino and Black students into the UC system, then maybe we’ll need to rethink racial and ethnic preferences. And go to the voters with another Proposition 16.


latimes--2020-10-28--Column: How Latinos raised in Southern California are changing politics in small-town America

As Rudy Monterrosa wrapped up his final year at Notre Dame Law School in 1998 , he also readied a return to Southern California .
South Bend , Ind.
, had treated him well , but the son of Mexican and Salvadoran immigrants didn ’ t see a future there .
His family and friends lived in unincorporated Bloomington in San Bernardino County .
He was a volunteer with the Inland Empire Future Leaders Program , which has trained generations of high schoolers to better their communities .
And that ’ s what Monterrosa planned to do back home — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eventually enter politics .
But one night , he served as an emcee when Edward James Olmos came to Notre Dame .
Latinos drove for hours from across the Midwest to hear the actor speak , thirsty for a touch of their culture and for an event where they weren ’ t an anomaly , at only about 8 % of the population .
“ Something clicked , ” Monterrosa now says .
“ It made me realize we can make a difference here.
” So he gave himself five years to try @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a respected leader , the type of guy whose career allowed him to cross paths with former South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg and the husband of newly confirmed Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett .
Meanwhile , the Latino population in South Bend and the surrounding region doubled .
By 2018 , Monterrosa achieved the dream he once imagined for himself in California : immigration lawyer , Notre Dame law professor and school board member .
He ’ s running for reelection on the South Bend Community School Corp. board this year as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Hoosier State .
And he ’ s doing it as a voice from the future — as a Californian who has already been through the demographic changes that an increasingly diverse Midwest is now confronting .
“ The issues that California went through in the 1980s and ‘ 90s , like bilingual education and discrimination , the stuff I lived through , are just coming to Indiana , ” said Monterrosa , who is 47 .
He ’ s on the board of Inland Empire Future Leaders and still returns to San @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the nonprofit ’ s summer camp .
“ Our students can see someone like them in me , and their parents can see someone who was once in their children ’ s exact position , ” he said .
That Golden State state of mind is slowly starting to pop up in corridors of power across small-town America .
Latinos raised in California sit on a community college board in Nebraska , a city council in suburban Virginia and in the Maryland House of Delegates .
They ’ ve become the first Hispanic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and are climbing New Hampshire ’ s governmental ladder .
This phenomenon is so new that the National Assn .
of Latino Elected and Appointed Officials , which keeps a database of the more than 6,000 Latinos who hold public office in the U.S. , has no hard numbers on how many politicians like these exist .
But NALEO Chief Operating Officer Erica Bernal-Martinez says she ’ s “ excited ” by the development .
“ It ’ s going to make these communities stronger in the long term , ” she said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ] ideals and convince people locally that they ’ re one of them.
” So let me introduce you to three electeds who illustrate this point in different ways : Monterrosa , New Hampshire state representative Manny Espitia and Christine Thompson , a school board member in a tiny Kentucky county where the Latino population is just 2.5 % .
Monterrosa was the one who grew up alongside an emerging Latino community .
There was only one Latino lawyer in all of South Bend when he attended Notre Dame .
Monterrosa ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ made him sought-after almost immediately .
“ An activist went up to me shortly before I graduated and told me , ‘ Rudy , we need you here , ’ ” he said .
“ ‘ Don ’ t leave.
’ ” He eventually become president of the board of directors for La Casa de Amistad , a local community space , and volunteered for other Latino-focused groups across Indiana .
Running for office was always “ at the back of my mind , ” but Monterrosa preferred to just focus on his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was a vacant spot on the South Bend Community School Corp. board two years ago , Monterrosa was a logical choice for the appointment .
“ He knows what it takes to be a leader out in California , where he ’ s one Latino amongst many , ” said R.C .
Heredia , chair of Inland Empire Future Leaders .
“ In South Bend , not so much .
But he takes his pride and leadership that he learned with us and adapted it in order to have an impact.
” That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ taking in New Hampshire , where Latinos make up only 4 % of the population .
The Santa Ana native has lived in the Granite State only since 2015 , landing there to work on Hillary Clinton ’ s presidential campaign .
After stints on the staffs of Nashua ’ s mayor and U.S. Sen. Maggie Hassan , Espitia ran for state representative in 2018 , at the urging of Democratic leaders .
He remains one of just two Latinos in the state ’ s 400-member House of Representatives .
His district has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hampshire , yet he finds himself fighting for “ basic stuff , ” like government communication in Spanish — things so commonsense in California that we forget the rest of the country isn ’ t like us .
“ Nashua is becoming diverse , and [ native New Hamsphirites ] have to break out of their homogenous mindset , ” said the 30-year-old , who just bought a home with his fiancée but will keep his cellphone ’ s 714 area code for the foreseeable future .
“ Being able to get people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have different obstacles is tough .
But we fought those battles in California long ago.
” Both Espitia and Monterrosa moved away from California as adults .
Thompson , the daughter of immigrants from Mexico City and Nayarit , arrived in Paducah , Ky. , from Riverside with her family when she was 14 .
“ That shock of being in that new environment was very difficult for me , ” said the mother of two .
“ Especially being a teenager .
You want to fit in , you don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stand out.
” Thompson stayed in western Kentucky with her family , who liked the slower pace of life and the lower cost of living .
She entered the nonprofit world and became a familiar community presence , lately as executive director at Paducah-McCracken County Senior Center .
But when she decided to run for the Livingston County school board in 2018 , she had her 14-year-old self in mind .
“ Growing up here as the daughter of immigrants , as a newcomer , that ’ s a way for me to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rural constituents , said the 37-year-old .
“ I bring those lived experiences to the table .
That really keeps me going — being a role model and that inspiration for other kids to look up to.
” People like Thompson , Espitia and Monterrosa are powerful — both symbolically and literally .
Not only do their actions affect the lives of their constituents , but they also serve as ambassadors for Latinos nationwide — and for the California way .
“ California made me who I am , ” Monterrosa said , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spirit that I grew up with is the same one that I keep with me in South Bend .
”

Southern California native Rudy Monterrosa, a school board member in South Bend, is one of few Latino politicians in Indiana.
As Rudy Monterrosa wrapped up his final year at Notre Dame Law School in 1998, he also readied a return to Southern California.
South Bend, Ind., had treated him well, but the son of Mexican and Salvadoran immigrants didn’t see a future there. His family and friends lived in unincorporated Bloomington in San Bernardino County. He was a volunteer with the Inland Empire Future Leaders Program, which has trained generations of high schoolers to better their communities.
And that’s what Monterrosa planned to do back home — set up a law practice, then eventually enter politics.
Advertisement
But one night, he served as an emcee when Edward James Olmos came to Notre Dame. Latinos drove for hours from across the Midwest to hear the actor speak, thirsty for a touch of their culture and for an event where they weren’t an anomaly, at only about 8% of the population.
“Something clicked,” Monterrosa now says. “It made me realize we can make a difference here.”
So he gave himself five years to try to establish a life. He became a respected leader, the type of guy whose career allowed him to cross paths with former South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg and the husband of newly confirmed Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett. Meanwhile, the Latino population in South Bend and the surrounding region doubled.
By 2018, Monterrosa achieved the dream he once imagined for himself in California: immigration lawyer, Notre Dame law professor and school board member.
He’s running for reelection on the South Bend Community School Corp. board this year as one of the few Latino politicians in the Hoosier State.
And he’s doing it as a voice from the future — as a Californian who has already been through the demographic changes that an increasingly diverse Midwest is now confronting.
Christine Thompson, a school board member in Kentucky’s Livingston County, where the Latino population is just 2.5% of the population, which is 9,194. (Rachael Houser)
Advertisement
“The issues that California went through in the 1980s and ‘90s, like bilingual education and discrimination, the stuff I lived through, are just coming to Indiana,” said Monterrosa, who is 47.
He’s on the board of Inland Empire Future Leaders and still returns to San Bernardino County every year to volunteer at the nonprofit’s summer camp.
“Our students can see someone like them in me, and their parents can see someone who was once in their children’s exact position,” he said.
That Golden State state of mind is slowly starting to pop up in corridors of power across small-town America.
Latinos raised in California sit on a community college board in Nebraska, a city council in suburban Virginia and in the Maryland House of Delegates. They’ve become the first Hispanic ever elected to political office in Kentucky and are climbing New Hampshire’s governmental ladder.
This phenomenon is so new that the National Assn. of Latino Elected and Appointed Officials, which keeps a database of the more than 6,000 Latinos who hold public office in the U.S., has no hard numbers on how many politicians like these exist.
But NALEO Chief Operating Officer Erica Bernal-Martinez says she’s “excited” by the development.
“It’s going to make these communities stronger in the long term,” she said. “They bring these [California] ideals and convince people locally that they’re one of them.”
So let me introduce you to three electeds who illustrate this point in different ways: Monterrosa, New Hampshire state representative Manny Espitia and Christine Thompson, a school board member in a tiny Kentucky county where the Latino population is just 2.5%.
Monterrosa was the one who grew up alongside an emerging Latino community. There was only one Latino lawyer in all of South Bend when he attended Notre Dame. Monterrosa’s mere presence and his fluency in Spanish made him sought-after almost immediately.
“An activist went up to me shortly before I graduated and told me, ‘Rudy, we need you here,’” he said. “‘Don’t leave.’”
He eventually become president of the board of directors for La Casa de Amistad, a local community space, and volunteered for other Latino-focused groups across Indiana. Running for office was always “at the back of my mind,” but Monterrosa preferred to just focus on his law practice.
By the time there was a vacant spot on the South Bend Community School Corp. board two years ago, Monterrosa was a logical choice for the appointment.
“He knows what it takes to be a leader out in California, where he’s one Latino amongst many,” said R.C. Heredia, chair of Inland Empire Future Leaders. “In South Bend, not so much. But he takes his pride and leadership that he learned with us and adapted it in order to have an impact.”
Manny Espitia, a Santa Ana native, is a member of the New Hampshire House of Representatives. (Pamela Baker)
That’s the same approach Espitia is taking in New Hampshire, where Latinos make up only 4% of the population. The Santa Ana native has lived in the Granite State only since 2015, landing there to work on Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign. After stints on the staffs of Nashua’s mayor and U.S. Sen. Maggie Hassan, Espitia ran for state representative in 2018, at the urging of Democratic leaders. He remains one of just two Latinos in the state’s 400-member House of Representatives.
His district has the largest concentration of Latinos in New Hampshire, yet he finds himself fighting for “basic stuff,” like government communication in Spanish — things so commonsense in California that we forget the rest of the country isn’t like us.
“Nashua is becoming diverse, and [native New Hamsphirites] have to break out of their homogenous mindset,” said the 30-year-old, who just bought a home with his fiancée but will keep his cellphone’s 714 area code for the foreseeable future. “Being able to get people to adjust their minds that different populations have different obstacles is tough. But we fought those battles in California long ago.”
Both Espitia and Monterrosa moved away from California as adults. Thompson, the daughter of immigrants from Mexico City and Nayarit, arrived in Paducah, Ky., from Riverside with her family when she was 14.
“That shock of being in that new environment was very difficult for me,” said the mother of two. “Especially being a teenager. You want to fit in, you don’t want to stand out — and you stand out.”
Thompson stayed in western Kentucky with her family, who liked the slower pace of life and the lower cost of living. She entered the nonprofit world and became a familiar community presence, lately as executive director at Paducah-McCracken County Senior Center.
But when she decided to run for the Livingston County school board in 2018, she had her 14-year-old self in mind.
“Growing up here as the daughter of immigrants, as a newcomer, that’s a way for me to advocate for quality education” for her rural constituents, said the 37-year-old. “I bring those lived experiences to the table. That really keeps me going — being a role model and that inspiration for other kids to look up to.”
People like Thompson, Espitia and Monterrosa are powerful — both symbolically and literally. Not only do their actions affect the lives of their constituents, but they also serve as ambassadors for Latinos nationwide — and for the California way.
“California made me who I am,” Monterrosa said, choking up. “And that same spirit that I grew up with is the same one that I keep with me in South Bend.”


latimes--2020-10-28--Could Rohrabacher's old seat flip red in Orange County? Experts say it's a close call

Two years ago , Harley Rouda defeated longtime Republican Congressman Dana Rohrabacher as part of a blue wave sweeping across Orange County .
Sentiment against President Trump is still strong in a county that was once a bastion of conservatism but whose politics have evolved as it becomes more racially diverse and highly educated voters rebel against the Republican Party .
But with the Nov. 3 election less than a week away , Rouda faces a much different opponent in Michelle Steel and a landscape vastly changed by the coronavirus pandemic , as he fights to continue representing the 48th @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Orange County ’ s wealthy coast .
Steel is Korean American , an advantage in courting the 20 % of voters in the district who are Asian American .
As a member of the county board of supervisors , she is steeped in local politics and has also cultivated ties to Trump .
Republican voters turned off by Rohrabacher ’ s eccentricities , which included homophobic statements and a dubious preference for Russian President Vladimir Putin , could find her appealing .
She has been attacking Rouda with a traditional conservative mantra — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Despite Californians already paying some of the highest taxes in the nation , Harley Rouda supports a 20 % increase to payroll taxes for workers , condones increasing property taxes , wants to increase taxes on 401K retirement plans , ” said a post on her Facebook page .
Rouda , 58 , a former real estate investor who did not become a Democrat until three years ago , has pointed to a recent fundraiser where Steel and other attendees gathered indoors without masks .
“ Under her leadership , Orange County residents @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the coronavirus crisis , ” Rouda ’ s Facebook page said .
“ Michelle Steel ’ s blatant disregard for the health , safety , and economic security of the community she supposedly serves is sickening.
” The coronavirus pandemic has become a battleground for a county in political transition .
Steel , 65 , has won praise from Republicans for advocating to reopen local businesses .
Beaches in Orange County , while Los Angeles County beaches remained closed .
The county ’ s public health director resigned after for requiring that masks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ summer , churches held maskless services in Huntington Beach .
The defiance of coronavirus safety recommendations seemed a throwback to Orange County ’ s conservative past .
But it was pushed mainly by local officials and a vocal minority of residents , said Fred Smoller , a political science professor at Chapman University .
Smoller and colleague Michael Moodian conduct a yearly survey , which has shown that Orange County residents are more progressive than such high-profile events might indicate .
The survey predicted the 2018 results , when Rouda and six other @ @ @ @ @ @ @ seats — an epochal shift for a region long synonymous with conservatism .
The nonpartisan Cook Political Report rates the race between Rouda and Steel “ lean Democratic , ” while calling the nearby 39th district , with incumbent Gil Cisneros going against Republican challenger Young Kim , “ likely Democratic.
” Voter registration in Orange County leans slightly Democratic .
The 48th district , which includes the tony coastal communities of Newport Beach and Huntington Beach , is slightly more conservative , at 33 % Democrat , 38 % Republican and 24 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to beat Rohrabacher , who held the seat for three decades , when the Republican voter registration edge was greater , at 10 % .
But Smoller said Steel ’ s strength as a candidate makes this a closer contest than two years ago .
Steel is well connected in local Republican circles , he said , and Asian voters may be drawn to her because of her background .
“ I think Rouda will ultimately do well and win , but that will be a tougher race , ” Smoller said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ lead to poor performances for Republican candidates like Steel , who has strong ties to the president , ” Moodian said .
The candidates are closely matched in fundraising .
As of Oct. 14 , Rouda had raised $ 5.4 million , compared to Steel ’ s $ 5.1 million .
Outside committees have contributed millions more on each side .
Rouda said he is running on a moderate , commonsense platform similar to what worked for him against Rohrabacher .
Trump has led the Republican party to a place that no longer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
If he is reelected , Rouda said , he will continue addressing the coronavirus response , bringing the economy back and tackling climate change and off-shore drilling .
“ I think we need to recognize that there are a lot of conservative values that have been the Republican platform for so long that now no longer match under Trump ’ s administration , ” Rouda said .
“ People just want to go back to normal .
They don ’ t want the divisiveness that Trump brings.
” Like many Orange County @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Asian voters , speaking to ethnic news outlets and running advertising in multiple languages .
About 62 % of the district is white , with Latino residents at about 22 % and Asian residents at 20 % .
Lizanne Witte , a moderate Republican who lives in Laguna Beach , said the recent controversies over mask-wearing and other coronavirus restrictions made her feel like she was back in the old Orange County , when it was still staunchly conservative .
She plans on voting for Rouda based on his promise to deal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s more at stake this year , and you can feel it , ” said Witte , 63 , who is retired .
“ I ’ ve never seen this type of division.
” Huntington Beach resident Chris Lip said he is fed up with all incumbent politicians .
He does not approve of how Democrats are responding to the pandemic , so he plans to vote for Steel .
“ The economy is hurting , and while the county did OK , I just don ’ t want any current officeholder to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a 30-year old warehouse shipping manager .

Incumbent Rep. Harley Rouda (D-Laguna Beach) and Orange County Supervisor Michelle Steel are the two candidates for the 48th Congressional District.
Two years ago, Harley Rouda defeated longtime Republican Congressman Dana Rohrabacher as part of a blue wave sweeping across Orange County.
Sentiment against President Trump is still strong in a county that was once a bastion of conservatism but whose politics have evolved as it becomes more racially diverse and highly educated voters rebel against the Republican Party.
But with the Nov. 3 election less than a week away, Rouda faces a much different opponent in Michelle Steel and a landscape vastly changed by the coronavirus pandemic, as he fights to continue representing the 48th Congressional district, which includes much of Orange County’s wealthy coast.
Steel is Korean American, an advantage in courting the 20% of voters in the district who are Asian American. As a member of the county board of supervisors, she is steeped in local politics and has also cultivated ties to Trump.
Advertisement
Republican voters turned off by Rohrabacher’s eccentricities, which included homophobic statements and a dubious preference for Russian President Vladimir Putin, could find her appealing. She has been attacking Rouda with a traditional conservative mantra — that he will raise taxes.
“Despite Californians already paying some of the highest taxes in the nation, Harley Rouda supports a 20% increase to payroll taxes for workers, condones increasing property taxes, wants to increase taxes on 401K retirement plans,” said a post on her Facebook page.
Rouda, 58, a former real estate investor who did not become a Democrat until three years ago, has pointed to a recent fundraiser where Steel and other attendees gathered indoors without masks.
“Under her leadership, Orange County residents have lost their lives and livelihoods during the coronavirus crisis,” Rouda’s Facebook page said. “Michelle Steel’s blatant disregard for the health, safety, and economic security of the community she supposedly serves is sickening.”
The coronavirus pandemic has become a battleground for a county in political transition. Steel, 65, has won praise from Republicans for advocating to reopen local businesses.
More than 1,000 people lined the roads in Newport Beach during a recent visit by President Trump.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Advertisement
Beaches in Orange County drew huge crowds in April , while Los Angeles County beaches remained closed. The county’s public health director resigned after facing death threats for requiring that masks be worn in public. Over the summer, churches held maskless services in Huntington Beach.
The defiance of coronavirus safety recommendations seemed a throwback to Orange County’s conservative past. But it was pushed mainly by local officials and a vocal minority of residents, said Fred Smoller, a political science professor at Chapman University.
Smoller and colleague Michael Moodian conduct a yearly survey, which has shown that Orange County residents are more progressive than such high-profile events might indicate.
The survey predicted the 2018 results, when Rouda and six other Democrats swept Orange County’s congressional seats — an epochal shift for a region long synonymous with conservatism.
The nonpartisan Cook Political Report rates the race between Rouda and Steel “lean Democratic,” while calling the nearby 39th district, with incumbent Gil Cisneros going against Republican challenger Young Kim, “likely Democratic.”
Voter registration in Orange County leans slightly Democratic. The 48th district, which includes the tony coastal communities of Newport Beach and Huntington Beach, is slightly more conservative, at 33% Democrat, 38% Republican and 24% no party preference.
Rouda managed to beat Rohrabacher, who held the seat for three decades, when the Republican voter registration edge was greater, at 10%.
But Smoller said Steel’s strength as a candidate makes this a closer contest than two years ago.
Steel is well connected in local Republican circles, he said, and Asian voters may be drawn to her because of her background.
“I think Rouda will ultimately do well and win, but that will be a tougher race,” Smoller said.
Trump’s unpopularity in Orange County could hurt Steel.
“I think the Trump effect would lead to poor performances for Republican candidates like Steel, who has strong ties to the president,” Moodian said.
The candidates are closely matched in fundraising. As of Oct. 14, Rouda had raised $5.4 million, compared to Steel’s $5.1 million. Outside committees have contributed millions more on each side.
Rouda said he is running on a moderate, commonsense platform similar to what worked for him against Rohrabacher. Trump has led the Republican party to a place that no longer looks like traditional conservatism, he said.
If he is reelected, Rouda said, he will continue addressing the coronavirus response, bringing the economy back and tackling climate change and off-shore drilling.
“I think we need to recognize that there are a lot of conservative values that have been the Republican platform for so long that now no longer match under Trump’s administration,” Rouda said. “People just want to go back to normal. They don’t want the divisiveness that Trump brings.”
Like many Orange County politicians, Rouda has been courting Latino and Asian voters, speaking to ethnic news outlets and running advertising in multiple languages.
About 62% of the district is white, with Latino residents at about 22% and Asian residents at 20%.
Lizanne Witte, a moderate Republican who lives in Laguna Beach, said the recent controversies over mask-wearing and other coronavirus restrictions made her feel like she was back in the old Orange County, when it was still staunchly conservative.
She plans on voting for Rouda based on his promise to deal with climate change.
“There’s more at stake this year, and you can feel it,” said Witte, 63, who is retired. “I’ve never seen this type of division.”
Huntington Beach resident Chris Lip said he is fed up with all incumbent politicians.
He does not approve of how Democrats are responding to the pandemic, so he plans to vote for Steel.
“The economy is hurting, and while the county did OK, I just don’t want any current officeholder to stay in office,” said Lip, a 30-year old warehouse shipping manager.


latimes--2020-10-28--Firefighters battle to save Orange County subdivisions as flames march closer

Two wind-driven fires that forced nearly 100,000 people to evacuate in Orange County continued to burn out of control Tuesday , helping to create the nation ’ s worst air quality as smoke and ash rained down on many parts of Southern California .
The fierce Santa Ana winds that fueled the blazes eased significantly late in the day , and firefighters hope that could help them get the upper hand after two days of pitched battle defending subdivisions from Yorba Linda to Lake Forest .
Together , the Silverado and Blue Ridge fires have consumed more than 27,000 acres @ @ @ @ @ @ @ relatively light .
Officials said 10 homes were damaged in the Yorba Linda area .
And by Tuesday afternoon , some of the massive evacuations in Irvine had been lifted .
Even people who live far from the flames felt the affects of the Santa Ana wind storm , which saw gusts topping 90 mph Monday .
In addition to smoke from the two Orange County fires , winds left from the Bobcat fire earlier this month back into the skies , further choking Southern California with bad air .
By Tuesday morning @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that Southern California had the worst air quality in the nation , with parts of Los Angeles and Orange counties and the city of Corona all hovering in the “ unhealthy ” range .
The South Coast Air Quality Management District issued a smoke advisory for Orange County .
The Silverado fire broke out shortly after 6:45 a.m. Monday in the brush country around Santiago Canyon and Silverado Canyon roads .
It swept toward Irvine , forcing a large swath of the city ’ s north side to be evacuated .
By 2 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ % containment on the blaze , which had burned through more than 12,000 acres — sparing structures but injuring five firefighters , including two who were critically burned .
The firefighters , ages 26 and 31 , were placed on ventilators after suffering second- and third-degree burns over half their bodies .
They “ remain in critical condition , fighting for their lives , with their families by their sides , ” Orange County Fire Authority Chief Brian Fennessy said Tuesday .
Hours after the Silverado fire ignited , the Blue Ridge fire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ notorious wind tunnel said to have given the blustery Santa Anas their name .
The flames spread quickly as the fire pushed west toward Yorba Linda , threatening the town ’ s Hidden Hills community .
By Tuesday evening , the blaze had surpassed its predecessor , engulfing more than 15,000 acres and damaging at least 10 homes .
Firefighters had not been able to achieve any containment on the growing blaze .
Marc Church , 63 , joined a row of passersby Tuesday who were snapping photos of a canyon burning from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lessened from the previous day , he said , motioning to the hills , where patches of charred black peeked through the brown haze .
Church lives in Mission Viejo , where he moved a year and a half ago from Irvine because his wife wanted to be closer to the hills .
Now , they fear the wind could carry burning embers and ignite their backyard .
“ It ’ s a risk whenever you move near these hills , ” he said .
The family had packed a few boxes of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ certificates , bank information — and spent the morning gathering other necessities , including clothes , computers and chargers .
They took shifts sleeping and keeping watch overnight , he said , and awoke to voluntary evacuations and the sound of helicopters circling .
“ We didn ’ t get a lot of sleep , ” Church said , adding that if the evacuation orders became mandatory , they would load up the car .
“ If we have to go , we ’ ll have to go.
” John Lologo , 49 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yorba Linda neighborhood of Country Hills , which was under voluntary evacuation orders Tuesday afternoon .
Blackened palm fronds had blown in and lined his driveway , and clumps of ash floated to the ground .
In the distance , three separate smoke plumes billowed from the hills where the Blue Ridge fire was burning .
Lologo said he drove through Riverside on Tuesday morning and saw flames leaping over the Chino hills .
Soon after he returned home , authorities knocked on his door to announce voluntary evacuations .
Lologo had planned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ softball game Friday , so his bags were already packed .
But he doesn ’ t expect to leave before then .
“ I ’ m not going to leave until it ’ s mandatory , and even then , I ’ ll probably stay , ” he said .
“ I ’ m far enough away from everything that even if it burns down to the end of the block , I don ’ t perceive too much happening this side of the street.
” Adriana Cruz and her daughter , Roxana @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yorba Linda home and stayed in a hotel Monday night .
With the two of them and their lumbering dog , Jacqs , kept in his crate , the room was crowded .
The Cruz family brought Jacqs to the O.C .
Animal Care shelter in Tustin , which was welcoming evacuees ’ small animals .
Jacqs would stay Tuesday night while Cruz and her daughter waited to learn more about their neighborhood .
The whole process was confusing , Cruz said while wiping out the dog ’ s crate with a towel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ return home , Cruz shook her head : “ We don ’ t know.
” Gov .
Gavin Newsom on Tuesday said California had received a fire management assistance grant from the Federal Emergency Management Agency that will allow the state to receive 75 % reimbursements for firefighting efforts related to the Silverado and Blue Ridge fires .
California is experiencing its worst fire season on record , with the Orange County fires adding to the list but still much smaller than many other blazes in 2020 .
“ We talk in historic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and I remind you that six of the top 20 wildfires in our state ’ s history have occurred in 2020.
” More than 4 million acres have burned this year , and wildfires across the state have resulted in at least 30 fatalities , he said .

Two wind-driven fires that forced nearly 100,000 people to evacuate in Orange County continued to burn Wednesday, raining smoke and ash on many parts of Southern California.
The fierce Santa Ana winds that fueled the blazes eased significantly Tuesday, and firefighters were starting to gain the upper hand after two days of pitched battle defending subdivisions from Yorba Linda to Lake Forest.
Together, the Silverado and Blue Ridge fires have consumed more than 27,000 acres, but destruction to property has been relatively light. Officials initially said 10 homes were damaged in the Yorba Linda area but later downgraded that number to eight.
Advertisement
All of the massive evacuations in Irvine have been lifted, and by late Wednesday afternoon all evacuations were lifted in Yorba Linda. Evacuation orders for several canyon areas and parts of Lake Forest were still in place for the Silverado fire.
On Wednesday morning, crews were optimistic as containment expanded to 16% on the Blue Ridge fire and 25% on the Silverado fire, said Capt. Jason Fairchild of the Orange County Fire Authority.
Fairchild attributed the gains to improvements in the weather, including increased humidity and slowing winds.
“We had very favorable weather overnight, and we were able to get a lot more crews out and around the fire,” Fairchild said. “It’s going to be a good day for us, I think.”
Still of concern are two gravely injured firefighters, ages 26 and 31, who were placed on ventilators after suffering second- and third-degree burns over half their bodies while battling the blazes. They remain in critical condition, Fairchild said.
Orange County residents, too, are on edge as more than 1,300 firefighters hustle to keep control of the flames.
Advertisement
“It’s a risk whenever you move near these hills,” said Mission Viejo resident Marc Church.
Church, 63, moved to the area only a year and a half ago because his wife wanted to be closer to the hills. As he joined other passersby surveying the canyon where patches of charred black peeked through brown haze Tuesday, he said they feared the wind could carry burning embers that would ignite their backyard.
The family had packed a few boxes of important documents — car titles, birth certificates, bank information — and spent the morning gathering other necessities, including clothes, computers and chargers. They took shifts sleeping and keeping watch overnight, he said, awakening to voluntary evacuations and the sound of helicopters circling.
“We didn’t get a lot of sleep,” Church said. “If we have to go, we’ll have to go.”
Even people who live far from the flames felt the effects of the Santa Ana windstorm, which saw gusts topping 90 mph Monday.
Winds stirred ash and soot coating the ground from the Bobcat fire earlier this month back into the skies, choking Southern California with air so bad it ranked worst in the nation.
Residents watch the Blue Ridge fire from Vellano Club Drive on Tuesday in Chino Hills. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
The South Coast Air Quality Management District extended its advisory through Wednesday, citing “substantial amounts of smoke.”
“Smoke impacts in the South Coast Air Basin will likely continue until fire activity decreases for the Blue Ridge and Silverado Fires,” the advisory said.
And the battle is far from over: Fairchild said although the fires are separated by a mountain range, the smoke from each blaze can be seen from the other.
“We’re supposed to get some light winds today, and in the wrong circumstances, light winds can still push fire pretty good,” he said.
Gov. Gavin Newsom on Tuesday said California had received a grant from the Federal Emergency Management Agency allowing 75% reimbursements for fighting the Silverado and Blue Ridge fires.
California is experiencing its worst fire season on record, with the Orange County fires much smaller than many other blazes.
“We talk in historic terms,” Newsom said, “and I remind you that six of the top 20 wildfires in our state’s history have occurred in 2020.”
More than 4 million acres have burned this year, and wildfires across the state have resulted in at least 30 fatalities, he said.
Herman Termeer watches the Blue Ridge fire burn Tuesday inside Chino Hills State Park from the roof of his home. (Myung J. Chun/Los Angeles Times)
Times staff writer Joseph Serna contributed to this report.