The Brief

In 2017 I received a call that my godfather, Charlie Cheathem, then in his late 80s, was in the hospital. I’d grown up living close by in Compton — his daughter was my best friend. Back then, Compton was a middle class neighborhood with tree-lined streets, housing many Black professionals, Charlie among them.

During my hospital visit, a close friend and former colleague of his arrived, and they began reminiscing about the time they worked on the Apollo missions at North American Aviation in Downey, in southeastern L.A. County.

Apollo command module at North American Aviation's facility in Downey, 1966.

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Courtesy NASA

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As they continued to chat, I heard something Charlie had glossed over when I was younger. It was the discrimination they’d experienced as a handful of Black aerospace engineers inside the giant facility. Charlie had told me all about his work in aerospace throughout my childhood, and how passionate he’d been about it, but until now this other aspect hadn’t quite registered.

This time, however, as a self-proclaimed history buff, I was intrigued. I sat down with my cell phone in hand and pressed record.

Filling in the picture

Afterwards, when Charlie was back at home, I couldn't shake my curiosity and wanted to know more. Over the months I plied him with questions and recorded him whenever I could. I’d of course learned about the race to space in school and its importance to the U.S., but it turned out there was so much I hadn’t known about.

Charlie Cheathem, who worked on the Apollo missions.

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Rachel Swaby

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LAist

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Like President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 executive order outlawing racial discrimination in the hiring of federal government workers, with an understanding that the billions of dollars going into the space race could potentially open up thousands of jobs for Black workers.

Even then, though, it was more likely that a Black man would become a janitor than an aerospace engineer. That was still pretty rare. (Charlie, with a typical bull-headedness, had made it happen earlier through sheer determination).

While the doors had been opened for these men, however, once they were inside they had to prove themselves again and again. They were often not welcomed, were disrespected, and later even surveilled by the company. And all the while, unbeknownst to them, getting paid less than their white counterparts.

It seemed to be a place where space and race collided, and I felt these stories had to be told before it was too late. Given Charlie’s age, time was running out.

When I shared my new knowledge with other people, they appeared surprised as well. They didn’t know there were Black engineers involved in the moonshot, or that Los Angeles had played a key role in the Apollo missions. (North American Aviation was a subcontractor to NASA, and had built the Saturn V's second stage rocket and the command module, which housed the astronauts and landed on the moon, in Downey.)

Nate LeVert at the launch of Apollo 6.

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Courtesy Nate LeVert

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Developing the podcast

Now actively on my own mission, I asked Charlie if he could connect me with some of his colleagues. He put me in touch with Shelby Jacobs, with whom he’d worked, and through Shelby I connected with his close friend Nate LeVert.

When I learned more about their contributions, I was astounded. These three men had played key roles. Nate had designed the engine propellant system for the second stage rocket and worked on every Apollo launch.

Shelby had built the camera system that took the very first photographs of the curvature of the earth from space. And Charlie oversaw all configuration management, which meant his sign-off was crucial to the rocket’s production. All at a time when civil rights unrest was rocking the country.

The separation of Saturn V's second stage rocket during the Apollo 6 mission.

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Courtesy NASA

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As an avid listener of public radio and podcasts, I began to think that an audio series was the way to go to get these stories out. One day a few years ago I was at an LAist event when I began talking to a woman next to me, who turned out to be a senior editor at LAist, Suzanne Levy.

I told her about Charlie’s story, and she was also fascinated. Over the weeks, we developed the idea together, and she suggested I should be the host.

"Wait, that wasn't what I’d signed up for!" I thought. I'd figured someone else was going to do it. I was terrified — I’d never done anything like it. But I realized she was right. I couldn't let my fear get in the way. I had the personal connection to the story, and I needed to tell it.

And then, she pitched it internally to LAist Studios.

LA Made: The Other Moonshot.

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Lethabo Huma

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LAist

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In-depth interviews

It was great timing. They were producing another space-related podcast, Blood, Sweat and Rockets, and thought this was a perfect complement. Antonia Cereijido, now the host of Imperfect Paradise, and Shana Krochmal, VP of LAist Studios, gave it the green light. They brought on production company Reasonable Volume to make it. And with their executive producer Rachel Swaby, we were off to the races.

Shelby Jacobs shows podcast host Joanne Higgins a photo album from his days as an aerospace engineer.

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Rachel Shelby

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LAist

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We began extensive interviews of each man, talking to them on multiple occasions. One day we spent eight hours straight interviewing Shelby about his life. It was good that we did, because just two months later, he died from cancer. It emphasized the urgency of getting all their stories down on tape.

Shelby Jacob's NASA towels in his bathroom.

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Rachel Swaby

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LAist

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My relationship with these extraordinary men became more personal with each interview session. The more involved we got, the more they felt comfortable sharing with me. I met their families and they let me into their worlds. Shelby had a whole bathroom and guest room completely devoted to aerospace, including NASA-branded towels with his name embroidered on them.

Charlie had kept so many artifacts his garage was stuffed full, including the original Wall Street Journal edition where he was included in a front page photograph promoting North American Aviation’s top Apollo team. And Nate showed me some of his original design drawings, still intact after more than 50 years.

A promotion by North American Aviation in the Wall Street Journal showing Charlie Cheathem, on the left hand side.

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Courtesy Elizabeth Cheathem

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Difficult memories

Revisiting this time in their lives, however, also brought up negative things they had endured. Painful experiences, like witnessing the aftermath of a lynching in Alabama, as Nate had done as a young boy. Or being told in college, as Charlie was, not to follow his dream to be an architect because Blacks would never be able to “travel the world to experience different types of architecture.“ Or having someone look at you, like Shelby had, and tell you “you are just too dark to get work in the field.”

But they didn’t hold back, and we heard stories that moved us to tears. Now the four-part podcast is finally out, and I’m so proud of it. There were many times over the years when I questioned if it would happen, but I was propelled by these men. Despite the difficulties, they never gave up. They went on to succeed in something they were passionate about, and have careers they loved, which allowed them to comfortably raise their families. Their strength is what I would draw on whenever I got discouraged or disappointed.

I feel this podcast is my best representation of their journey, and mine. It is my offering to them, and my way of saying thank you. I know of no better way to show my gratitude for a job well done and a life well lived.

Listen to Episode 1

Several local groups in SoCal have planned demonstrations today over the fatal shooting of a man by federal agents in Minnesota on Saturday morning.

Here’s a list of some of those actions today:

• Echo Park
  
  • 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the corner of Park Avenue & Echo Park Lake Avenue
• Irvine
  
  • 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the Corner of Culver Drive & Barranca Parkway
• Ontario
  
  • Starts at 11:30 a.m at Euclid Avenue & Holt Boulevard
• Cypress Park
  
  • Noon to 2 p.m. at The Home Depot on 2055 N. Figueroa St.
• Rancho Cucamonga
  
  • Noon to 2 p.m. at Haven Avenue & Foothill Boulevard
• Long Beach
  
  • Starts at 3 p.m. at the intersection of Pine Avenue and 3rd Street
• Downtown Los Angeles
  
  • Starts at 3 p.m. outside of the Federal Building, at 300 North Los Angeles Street

Some 31,000 nurses, pharmacists and healthcare workers employed by Kaiser Permanente will begin an open-ended strike tomorrow in California and Hawaii, with 28,000 of those workers in California alone.

The health system and the union representing Kaiser workers — United Nurses Associations of California & the Union of Health Care Professionals — have been negotiating for a new labor contract since the end of September. Core bargaining issues include wages for nurses, understaffing and retirement benefits.

Picketing is slated to begin at 12 local Kaiser medical facilities in the following communities: Anaheim, Baldwin Park, Downey, Fontana, Irvine, Los Angeles, Ontario, Riverside, Harbor City, Panorama City, West Los Angeles and Woodland Hills.

Kaiser said in a statement that their hospitals and medical offices will stay open during the strikes, but some pharmacies will close.

Billions of dollars are pouring into data centers to power streaming services, cloud storage and the biggest energy monster of all, artificial intelligence.

Dozens of data centers already dot the region, from El Segundo to downtown L.A. But in Monterey Park, residents concerned about the environmental and health impacts of data centers are drawing a line.

A developer has proposed building a nearly 250,000-square-foot data center in a local business park. Last Wednesday night, hundreds of people packed City Hall to say they didn’t want it — or for that matter, any such facility.

“No data centers in Monterey Park!” the crowd chanted.

Residents’ immediate goal was to ensure the City Council approved a 45-day moratorium on data center development, an item added to the agenda after weeks of mounting public pressure.

What they got, in a meeting that stretched past midnight, was the council’s commitment to draft an outright ban during the 45-day period for a later vote. “That is more than I ever could have hoped for from this meeting,” resident Steven J. Kung said. “I am shocked and a little bit overjoyed.”

Residents organize

Hours earlier at a rally he helped lead, Kung had been far more cautious.

He expressed little faith in city officials, especially after learning that the project had been moving through the city’s planning process for about two years without his knowledge.

Kung said he only found out about the proposal from the Australian-based developer when his husband showed him a social media post by SGV Progressive Action last month — despite their living about 1,300 feet from the proposed site.

“I was incensed that no one had told me, especially since I lived so close,” he said.

Steven J. Kung is part of the activist and resident-led No Data Center Monterey Park.

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Josie Huang

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Kung joined a grassroots group of residents and activists called No Data Center Monterey Park, which has organized teach-ins, canvassing drives and yard sign campaigns in the weeks leading up to the vote.

Developer's promises

The developer, HMC StratCap, has said its proposed data center on 1977 Saturn Street would generate more than $5 million a year in tax revenue and more than 200 jobs during construction. It’s also promised to build a public park.

But residents said that’s not worth the tradeoff of the massive energy demand of data centers, pollution from diesel backup generators and noise from cooling equipment.

The developer counters that the generators will be strictly regulated, a “closed-loop cooling technology” will use water efficiently and noise will be “similar to a typical commercial area,” according to a handout shared with residents at Wednesday’s meeting.

Monterey Park City Hall was packed to capacity as people waited to testify in opposition to a proposed data center.

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Josie Huang

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The developer has also agreed to an environmental impact report.

Kung and others say an EIR is the least the developer should do. They say they’re also troubled by the decision to locate a data center in a city of roughly 60,000 people, more than half of them immigrants.

“They see a small city full of Asians and Latinos, and they don’t think we’ll fight back,” Kung said. “But they’re wrong.”

“People, not machines”

So many people showed up that the lobby was converted into overflow space.

Among them was Alex Leon, a mathematician who attended with his wife, a phlebotomist, and their two young daughters.

“This has kind of been our dream, living in Monterey Park,” Leon said. “I just don’t want it to turn into an industrial farm for big data.”

Alex Leon came to speak out against the proposed data center with his wife Janette and their two daughters.

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Josie Huang

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Like dozens of others, Leon wasn’t there just to watch, but wanted council members to listen. When his turn came to give comment, he met the eyes of the council members.

“Monterey Park should be built for people, not machines,” he said. “For families, not server racks. For community life, not industrial infrastructure. This is our home, and it’s worth defending.”

“Open and honest conversations”

A handful of speakers supported the project, including a representative for the developer. Laziza Lambert pivoted at the podium to face the crowd.

“We just really want to be good, long-term partners with the community and hope to have open and honest conversations,” she said, as some in the audience started to jeer.

Residents voiced concerns that once one data center is approved, the floodgates would open, noting that the developer owns another parcel on the same street.

But much of the anger that night was aimed at city leaders. Speaker after speaker said they had been kept in the dark.

Tran and

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Josie Huang

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Katherine Torres, a real estate agent and president of the Monterey Park Women’s Club, said the organization is apolitical, but she would be sure to tell the members.

“I swear, I’m going to spread the word about the data center because they need to know,” she said as the room erupted in applause.

She looked at the council members with whom she was on a first-name basis.

“I have dinner with you guys,” she said. “I go to your events. Why didn’t I know?”

A surprise shift

By the fifth hour, nearly 80 residents had spoken. Then it was the council’s turn to give comments before their vote on the 45-day moratorium.

Two members said they supported going beyond a temporary pause and considering a permanent ban. Jose Sanchez’s opposition to data centers was already known to those closely following the issue. But Elizabeth Yang’s was not.

Yang told the room that her mother and stepfather live within a mile of the proposed site.

The council meeting was preceded by a rally against data centers.

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Josie Huang

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“I’m not going to vote for something that’s going to hurt my own family,” she said.

She added she was disappointed the developer had not done more with outreach and information.

“Because of all of you feeding us good information, I’m siding with no data center,” Yang said.

The remaining residents started clapping and rose to their feet.

What’s ahead

The council unanimously approved the 45-day moratorium during which city staff will draft an ordinance that could ban data centers outright — a proposal that will return to the council for a vote.

Outside council chambers, Steven J. Kung praised his fellow residents for speaking out and pushing the council to think bigger.

“I’m so proud of Monterey Park and our residents,” he said. “The more I’m here, the more I fall in love with the people.”

He’d celebrate that night. But then it’d be back to work, making sure the ban stands and Monterey Park keeps data centers out for good.

The developer would not be sitting back either. Lambert, the representative for the developer, said they were moving forward with plans to host a town hall with residents in the next couple of weeks.

When Christian Bryson needs quick weather information, like for this weekend's massive snowstorm, he doesn't wait for the 5 p.m. local newscast. Instead, he turns to Ryan Hall.

"It's as if he's sitting in the living room with you tracking the storm," said Bryson, a 21-year-old meteorology student at the University of Tennessee at Martin.

Hall, who goes by "Ryan Hall, Y'all" on his social media platforms, calls himself a "digital meteorologist" and "The Internet's Weather Man." His YouTube channel has over 3 million subscribers. Hall did not respond to a request to comment about his platform.
Hall is part of an increasingly popular genre of social media weather accounts that share information leading up to extreme weather, and then livestream for their viewers, sometimes for hours at a time. Overall, Hall offers solid information and is a good communicator with a few technical omissions, experts told NPR. But the weather genre online spans a wide range of sources — from amateurs with no science background to accredited meteorologists.
Experts say that while weather influencers can help fill an information gap, platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and X tend to prioritize engagement and likes over accuracy. That means extreme weather updates on social media are often sensationalized or lack context, says Gary Lackmann, a professor of atmospheric science at North Carolina State University.
"They're not going to the National Weather Service web page, they're just looking at what's in their feed," Lackmann said. "Once you start clicking on viral extreme weather stuff, then the algorithm is going to just feed you more and more."

Rise in social media use for weather updates

Lackmann, who is also head of NC State's department of marine, earth and atmospheric sciences, said in 2024 during Hurricane Helene, a weather disaster that swamped western North Carolina, killing 108 people, he started to see more and more people getting their weather information from social media
He says that, in the face of extreme weather events, people need credible and authoritative sources such as the NWS.
But with social media, sometimes "you get some kid who wants to get a lot of shares and likes and be an influencer on social media," he said.
Matthew Cappucci, a senior meteorologist for the weather app MyRadar, has personal experience with both worlds. He worked for years at the Washington Post as a meteorologist, and now posts weather forecasts on the internet.
Cappucci said his success on Facebook, Instagram, and X shows how rapidly people are shifting from getting their weather information from traditional news outlets versus social media.
"Within two months, I was able to reach 60 million-plus people on social media, just on Facebook," Cappucci said
Bryson, the 21-year-old, said Hall and other credible weather influencers use language that non-meteorologists understand and they can share information at any time of the day.
"The fact that it's available at your fingertips," Bryson said. "I could go to Ryan Hall at 4 p.m. I'm eating my dinner and get the information that I need."

Digital meteorology can help fill information gaps 

There are positives to having meteorologists and credible weather sources on social media, Lackmann said. He's seen local weather influencers in North Carolina help disperse information from official outlets.

"There's a real need for that kind of localization and personalization of weather information," Lackmann said.
Aaron Scott, an assistant professor of meteorology at the University of Tennessee at Martin, said digital meteorology, a relatively new certification program that encompasses all forms of digital media, has an important place in the new media landscape.
"People do trust them, and they have built rapport," Scott said. "Sometimes that can make the difference if someone's going to actually go take shelter from a tornado or not."
Scott's department at UT Martin is now offering a digital meteorology class dedicated to teaching students how to engage with an online audience.
Cappucci also sees the positives with his own content. Social media allows for more flexibility than on-air television, he said. He pushes back on climate misinformation or weather conspiracy theorists.

A minefield of misinformation on social media

But all three experts interviewed by NPR see the downsides in the way social media algorithms push the most sensationalized — not always the most accurate — information to the forefront.
"The brightest colors, the most outlandish information will always get more following than actual truthful information," Cappucci said.
Cappucci said the ability to make increasing amounts of money on social media can also lead to inaccurate weather information.
"As TV viewership wanes and as salaries come down, it's easier to make up that money by posting crazy stuff online," Cappucci said.
Meteorologists use a number of different numerical models as they predict the possible outcomes of an extreme weather event. Because of this, people can "cherry-pick" one model and sensationalize a forecast, Lackmann said.
"You cry wolf too often, and people won't take proper precautions when there really is a high probability of an extreme event," Lackmann said.

The effort to preserve credible weather reports

Meteorologists and other weather professionals are grappling with how to navigate the new media landscape and prioritize accurate information, the experts said.
NWS has increased its social media presence, Lackmann said. Experts at the American Meteorological Society have discussed a social media certification that extends beyond the digital media certification currently available.

Scott said how the field will grapple with social media, and now AI-generated media, is "a huge question mark."
"That's the million-dollar question," Scott said. "How do we make it? Do we have some type of badging system where you're certified, you're not? Then, who decides that?"
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