The Brief

The winds of change blew swiftly and relentlessly into this oceanside city in northern Orange County.

Not long after winning election last November, the new conservative majority of the Huntington Beach city council adopted an ordinance that prevents the rainbow LGBTQ+ flag from flying at city hall during Pride Month.

Then this summer, the council dissolved a human relations committee formed after two notorious hate crimes by white supremacists in the mid-1990s; rewrote a declaration on human dignity to eliminate any reference to hate crimes but recognize “from birth the genetic differences between male and female”; and took away the ability to select who gives the invocation before its meetings from an interfaith council also founded in the wake of those 1990s hate incidents.

Last month, council members passed a ban on government mask and vaccine mandates in a city that has none, then placed measures on the March ballot that would add the flag policy to the city charter and require voter identification at the polls.

Hardly a few weeks pass anymore without another contentious vote pushing the community to the right — and right into some of the country’s fiercest cultural battles. Claiming a mandate from voters, Huntington Beach’s conservative council majority has set out to erase any vestige of progressive governance or “wokeism.”

They’ve been cheered on by constituents including Cari Swan, a local activist who helped organize an unsuccessful recall attempt against five members of the previous city council for passing liberal policies that she considered out of step with Huntington Beach’s values.

“The left kind of brought it on themselves,” Swan said. “They were poking the bear and the bear fought back.”

But now an opposition, growing fearful of just how far and how fast the conservative council may go to reshape their community, has galvanized around their latest move to create a citizen review panel to monitor library books for sexual content.

At a tense meeting last month, public comment dragged on for five hours as hundreds of residents filled the council chambers, frequently shouting at the conservative majority for promoting a book ban. Opponents have since launched a campaign against the March ballot measures, effectively turning the election into a referendum on the council members and their vision for Huntington Beach.

“They have just come in and taken a wrecking ball to the city with all of these things they have passed,” said Carol Daus, a library volunteer who has lived in Huntington Beach for more than three decades. “Now the community is divided. There is no place for the middle.”

How did the political center fall out, even in this swing region of California where the close partisan divide might have once invited moderation instead of conflict?

Welcome to the era of backlash politics.

Lacking power at the state level — where Democrats are so dominant that they can dismiss these cultural concerns without so much as a debate — conservatives are leaning into local governance as a form of protest against liberal California.

Their efforts can also be seen in Shasta County, where far-right activists took control of the government for not doing enough to fight coronavirus pandemic mandates and then got rid of voting machines at the center of election fraud conspiracies, and in school boards across the state, which have been roiled by fights over the rights of LGBTQ+ students.

It tracks with a growing repolarization among California voters. After decades of steady gains in independent registration, the trend has undergone a sharp reversal over the past five years as more voters embrace the Democratic and Republican parties again. Surveys find an increasing number have a favorable view of their own party and an unfavorable view of the opposition.

“It almost feels like you have to overcompensate for some of the damage being done,” said Gracey Van Der Mark, the Huntington Beach council member who proposed the library book review committee. “The more radical they got to the left, the more I felt myself pulling to the right.”

Gracey Van Der Mark, one of the conservative majority on the Huntington Beach City Council, in her City Hall office on Nov. 11, 2023.

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Many residents and former officials in Huntington Beach have watched with shock and horror as the city of nearly 200,000 emerged as a leader in this movement. They emphasize that the community historically leaned conservative, but not overly partisan, and had long been on the same page about maintaining its suburban beach town vibe.

The 2020 presidential election split fairly evenly, with Donald Trump beating Joe Biden by fewer than 4,000 votes. Several Democrats were elected to the nonpartisan city council, which began taking steps that might have once seemed unthinkable, such as flying the rainbow flag for Pride Month for the first time.

The Trump era and the pandemic deeply unsettled the community, however. Huntington Beach was the site of regular protests — in support of Trump and against pandemic restrictions, occasionally violent and sometimes led by white supremacist groups, recalling its history as a magnet for skinheads in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

The unsuccessful recall effort two years ago tapped into a sense among many conservative residents that they were losing their community. Local activist Russell Neal said the then-council’s decision to fly the Pride flag exemplified how progressives encourage moral weakness to bring people under control of the government.

“The whole transformation of culture goes together as a cohesive package,” Neal said. “The fundamental form of slavery is slavery to sin and when they’re slaves to sin, presto, they’ll find themselves slaves externally.”

It’s a message that can be heard at meetings of Republican groups around town and at Calvary Chapel of the Harbour, an influential evangelical church overlooking a marina on the northern edge of Huntington Beach. The conservative council candidates campaigned from the stage there last year, with Pastor Joe Pedick telling congregants he was voting for the foursome. One of the intern pastors is running for city council next year.

“We look for those types of leaders” who will “stand up for righteousness,” Pedick said after this past Sunday’s service, where a guest speaker preached to hundreds that Planned Parenthood is the source of all wickedness in modern American culture and that Democrats are demons.

Running as a slate last year, however, the conservatives focused their platform not on cultural issues but on fighting high-density development in the city, including a state requirement to plan for more than 13,000 new units in the next eight years, as well as on reducing homelessness and crime. They swept the four open seats last November, receiving at least 12,000 votes more than their closest competition, and celebrated the results as a mandate, though with lower turnout, each won the support of less than a fifth of Huntington Beach residents.

“Our voters have no more appetite for progressive governance or the wokeism,” said City Attorney Michael Gates, a staunch conservative elected to a third term last November after campaigning with the council candidates.

So opponents are flummoxed by how much the city council focused this year on issues that never came up in the campaign. They have come to see the housing and homelessness message as a bait-and-switch — though to what end, they’re not sure. To simply undo the work of the previous council? To boost future runs for higher office? To create a laboratory of conservative policymaking that could become a playbook for other communities?

“It’s a banana republic down here,” said Dan Kalmick, one of three Democrats on the city council who regularly oppose the conservative majority. “This isn’t Republicanism. This is nihilism.”

The political divisions have consumed city government — sometimes quite literally. The conservative majority chose adjoining offices on the same hallway in city hall, booting the Democrats to the other side of the building.

Council meetings are filled with open hostility and executive staff have fled for neighboring communities. While a potential budget deficit looms, the council majority recently approved a secret $7 million settlement with a political ally who sued the city after the final day of his popular air show was canceled in 2021 due to a massive oil spill.

“That whole philosophy, you would think it would be small government and fiscal prudence because they are Republicans. But they are ones who are Republicans in name only,” said Democratic Councilmember Rhonda Bolton, who slammed the conservative majority for advancing policies such as voter ID and the library book review committee without considering how much they might cost to administer or defend in court. “What I’m seeing is Trump ideology, MAGA ideology, and in that respect, no original ideas.”

The conservative council members say they are responding to concerns raised by constituents during more than 100 town halls they held on the campaign trail.

One of their first major steps, about two months after taking office, was adopting a policy that allows only flags for the United States, California, Orange County, Huntington Beach and the military to fly on city property. Councilmember Pat Burns, who introduced the ordinance, said it was a move to unify the community behind symbols that represent everyone equally. He said he has nothing against LGBTQ+ people, but believes the rainbow flag — the only flag previously approved for display in front of city hall that was not included in the new policy — promotes divisive identity politics that are actually counterproductive to LGBTQ+ acceptance.

“They’re such a small population and why would we recognize anybody special?” Burns said, adding that it would be like him asking for an NRA, white or Christian flag in front of city hall. “We’re all marginalized in some way or victimized in some way, but we don’t get months or parades or whatever.”

Known as the Fab Four to their fans, the council majority, along with Gates, have become rock stars to local Republicans, who hooted and hollered for them at a Veterans Day ceremony on the beach.

Supporters spun off groups like HB Lady Patriots, which aims to bring a patriotic education back into Huntington Beach schools and was active in promoting the library book review proposal. Gates said he hears from officials in other communities who want to replicate their policies, including Fresno County, which recently voted to create a panel to screen children’s books in the libraries.

“We’re willing to be the tip of the spear on this,” Van Der Mark said, attributing everything the council is doing to a philosophy of fighting government overreach. “We want to make Huntington Beach the city that protects your individual liberties and freedoms.”

Gracey Van Der Mark, a Huntington Beach City Councilmember, with a book she says should be banned from children’s sections of the library in Huntington Beach Nov. 11, 2023.

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Van Der Mark’s sunny fourth-floor office at city hall is stacked with books that she finds obscene. Many of them are sex education manuals, borrowed from the Huntington Beach public library and filled with sticky notes to mark offending passages — discussions of masturbation, explanations of fetishes, images of erect penises and gay sex.

She’s particularly perturbed by a picture book called “Grandad’s Pride,” currently on order for the library, which features a drawing of a Pride parade where two men in leather are kissing in the crowd; she equates it with promoting bondage to kids. Van Der Mark also returns again and again to a page in a sex education book that describes how to use lubricant to insert a tampon if it does not fit.

“The lines are so blurred that we don’t even know where to stop and where to start,” she said. “I don’t need to learn how to stick a finger up my vagina with K-Y jelly. We survived without that kind of graphic information. And if you want it, then you go talk to your mom.”

It’s the type of sexual content that her library book review committee, which the city is in the process of establishing, could move to the adult section or prevent the library from acquiring in the first place. Though a challenge process for library books already existed — there were five in the previous five years, including one by Van Der Mark herself — she said more robust steps are necessary to protect young readers from damaging material, even if it appears within the context of an educational or creative work.

“This one page is going to stick in their brain,” she said. “We should have one area that is completely safe for all children.”

Her crusade has mobilized library supporters — the central branch, a concrete marvel with a spiraling atrium, is beloved far beyond Huntington Beach — and First Amendment groups, who sent a letter to the council in October warning that the plan would infringe on free speech. Daus, the library volunteer, worries that the vague language of the ordinance could allow the committee to impose its own morality on the entire community, especially with LGBTQ+ books.

“It’s feeling like a China or a Russia or a Hungary,” Daus said as she toured the children’s room, which has a reading area designed as a pirate ship. The sex education section had only three books on the shelf.

Among the conservative council majority, Van Der Mark seems to especially rankle the opposition. She was a divisive activist even before her election, which she winkingly acknowledges in her office with a framed wall hanging of her entry in the OC Weekly’s Scariest People of 2018 list.

That was the year Van Der Mark got kicked off two school district committees after troubling comments she had made online resurfaced. In 2017, Van Der Mark joined alt-right protestors, including some with ties to white nationalist groups, to crash a racial justice workshop in Santa Monica. Beneath a video of the incident posted by Van Der Mark, she referred to Black attendees at the meeting as “colored people” who were doing the bidding of “elderly Jewish people” there. Her YouTube account also had a playlist of Holocaust denial videos titled “Holocaust hoax?”

The comments have continued to follow Van Der Mark through her rise in local politics. This summer, as the council majority voted to eliminate the human rights committee, Democratic Councilmember Natalie Moser publicly questioned whether Van Der Mark was a Holocaust denier, leading the conservatives to censure Moser.

“She was masking a face of radical extremism and she did it to infiltrate a government institution so she could become legitimized,” said Gina Clayton-Tarvin, a liberal school board trustee who initially appointed Van Der Mark and who finished fifth in last year’s city council election. “It’s a total threat to democracy, because they are acting in ways that are quasi-fascist.”

Van Der Mark said she has never doubted the Holocaust happened; she was unfamiliar with the conspiracy theory, she said, until she spoke with one of the Jewish organizers at the racial justice workshop she crashed, whom she said sent her the hoax videos as an example.

A 49-year-old grandmother and daughter of immigrants from Ecuador and Mexico, Van Der Mark said she was largely apolitical until around 2016, when she was pulled into advocacy against the local sex education curriculum. She acknowledged that, in the early stages of her political awakening, she attended all types of rallies “to find the truth,” not necessarily aware of who she was affiliating with, but she denied harboring any racist, anti-Semitic or homophobic sentiments.

“If I would have known they were there, I might not have gone,” she said. “But I can’t regret going, because had I not gone out in search of the truth, I would not be where I am today.”

As Van Der Mark prepares to take over as mayor next month, critics worry that she will unleash even more extreme policies. Van Der Mark said she has tried to explain herself to opponents but they remain hostile, perhaps because she betrays their idea of what a Latina politician should be.

“I want to be able to offer this little safe haven that I found for my family, for other people,” she said. “The other side is trying to push conservative values out. We’re saying, ‘no, no, no, this is our city.’ We want to keep it. Why do you want to change it? If this is not a good fit for you, there are other cities that may be a good fit.”

Carol Daus outside of the library in Huntington Beach on Nov. 11, 2023.

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Feeling like strangers in a strange land, some liberals in Huntington Beach are considering leaving.

Daus and her husband have started to explore a move to nearby Long Beach or Pasadena, where a daughter lives. An incident in June when a neighbor had their rainbow flag ripped down and torn to shreds unsettled Daus.

“These are the things that just make you go, you know, do you want to live around this? Or would you rather be in a more welcoming, inclusive neighborhood?” she said. “If I wanted to live in Florida, I’d live in Florida.”

The library fight diverted her attention, though, and the housing market is tough, so now she may wait to see what happens with the March election. The campaign to defeat the proposed charter amendments has provided some comfort and motivation. While she’s not ready yet to put a sign in her yard, she is getting bolder. At a kickoff event last Saturday afternoon, where hundreds gathered at the park outside the central library, Daus ran a table soliciting people to write op-eds in the local media.

Attendees picked up lawn signs and postcards from other booths. The three Democrats on the city council spoke, as did former elected officials. Under a canopy, Shirley Dettloff, who helped write the city’s human dignity statement when she served on the council in the 1990s, signed up volunteers.

“We wanted the city to be known as a city that protected people,” Detloff said. “I was just surprised that anyone would take that on as an issue.”

At the end of the event, dozens gathered around a 33-foot-by-24-foot rainbow flag lying in the grass and chanted, “Vote no! Vote no! Vote no!” The homemade flag is a project of Pride at the Pier, an LGBTQ+ community group that formed this spring after Huntington Beach passed its flag ban. In May, demonstrators unfurled the enormous flag over the side of the city’s famed pier in protest.

Attendees pose for a portrait with a giant Pride flag after a Protect Huntington Beach event in Central Park on Nov. 11, 2023. The group formed in opposition to the new conservative majority on the Huntington Beach City Council.

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Kane Durham, one of the group’s founders, said this year has raised difficult questions for LGBTQ+ residents about whether they will continue to be welcome in Huntington Beach. He fears the council might next use the updated human dignity declaration, which states that “sex carries advantages and disadvantages that warrant separation during certain activities (i.e. sports),” to prevent trans athletes from participating in the city’s youth sports programs.

Though he does not live in Huntington Beach, Durham has become a vocal activist on behalf of other transgender and nonbinary people whom he said do not feel safe putting themselves out there publicly. For his efforts, he said he’s been doxxed and subject to online rumors calling him a pedophile.

“Too many Californians are in this blue fantasy bubble. We think that it won’t happen here, even while it is happening here,” Durham said. “There are so many people there who are frogs in a boiling pot of water.”

Months of angry council meetings have hardly swayed the Fab Four off their path. They dismiss their opponents as a vocal minority searching for relevance and reject the notion that their actions have divided the community like they accuse their predecessors of doing.

“If just who shows up to city hall’s a reflection of the city, none of us four would have been elected,” said Tony Strickland, who is finishing up his year in the rotating mayorship. “The voters have the final say.”

That will again be the case in March, the first real test for the council majority of how sustainable backlash politics can be in transforming a community.

Even some allies already seem to have grown weary of what’s happening in Huntington Beach.

Pano Frousiakis, a young Republican activist, ended his own campaign for city council last year and worked to elect his conservative rivals so they could regain control of a community that he had always considered “our little oasis in California.”

Though he’s happy with the overall direction of the council, Frousiakis concedes that “the past few months have been getting a little bit off-track.” He established a political organization this year, the HB Patriots, and is running again for city council in 2024 with a message about getting back to local quality-of-life issues.

“Unfortunately, I feel that our residents get sidelined as a result of that. I feel sidelined as a resident,” he said. “The other issues that are being talked about, that’s why I vote for president.”

California’s latest budget includes $116 million over three years to help schools identify and support students experiencing homelessness — the first time the state has dedicated funding specifically for this purpose.

Homeless student advocates welcomed the investment after years of lobbying lawmakers to supplement the federal dollars California gets annually to address student homelessness. However, advocates cautioned that one-time funding will only go so far to address the long-term problem of student homelessness.

Nearly 300,000 students in California were identified as experiencing homelessness in 2024-25, according to state data. However, homeless student advocates say that number is likely an undercount because it’s challenging to identify homeless students. With dedicated funding, schools can hire specialized staff trained to identify students facing housing instability and develop longer-term support programs.

“There is a great need, but the hard part with this population is you have to find them and identify them, and we have never funded that,” said Margaret Olmos, senior director at the National Center for Youth Law.

For years, Olmos and other advocates urged California lawmakers to provide state funding dedicated to homeless students, arguing that the federal McKinney Vento Homeless Assistance Act allocation — about $15 million annually to California — was insufficient to meet districts’ needs.

This year’s 2026-27 budget includes a one-time, three-year competitive grant program totaling $116 million. Although advocates had hoped for an ongoing funding stream, they called the allocation a significant step forward.

“Short-term money is very, very difficult for schools to utilize,” Olmos said.

Why dedicated funding?

California schools already can use several funding buckets to support students experiencing homelessness, including funding for community schools, Title 1 for schools to support low-income students, and supplemental dollars via the Local Control Funding Formula.

But those funding sources can help students only after they have been identified as experiencing homelessness. The state’s $116 million investment is intended primarily to help schools find eligible students and connect them with services, according to the budget trailer bill.

“Whether it’s community school funding or other funding that California’s providing for its students, if homeless students aren’t identified, if they don’t have regular transportation, a way to get to school, has somebody who’s attending to all those other needs — they’re not going to be able to benefit from those other investments,” said Barbara Duffield, executive director of SchoolHouse Connection, an organization that advocates for homeless students.

Identifying students can be difficult if families are reluctant to disclose housing instability or do not realize they are considered homeless under federal law and thus qualify for services.

Under the federal McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act, student homelessness is defined more broadly than it is for the general population under the more commonly used definition from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). Under McKinney-Vento, students are considered homeless if they lack a fixed, regular and adequate nighttime residence — including many who are temporarily living with relatives or friends because of economic hardship.

This definition includes students living “doubled-up,” meaning families who share housing due to economic hardship. The HUD definition doesn’t include families who are doubling up. The great majority of California’s homeless students live “doubled-up,” but they could go uncounted if they or people offering support are not aware of the different definitions of homelessness.

In recent years, California has taken steps to improve identification and access to resources.

A 2022 state law, for example, requires schools to administer an annual housing questionnaire and report the results to the California Department of Education. Schools are also required under federal law to designate homeless liaisons responsible for identifying students and connecting them with services.

During Gov. Gavin Newsom’s administration, billions have been allocated to address homelessness statewide, with a small percentage set aside for youth. Some county offices of education have applied for and received grants via that program, but funds are exclusively for housing, and not for services such as transportation, food assistance, clothing, school supplies and more that students need.

Olmos and other advocates say that this is where schools come in. School staff work to identify homeless students, though often with little to no dedicated funding.

A teacher or classroom aide might notice a student whose grades have slipped, or another’s who has an unkempt appearance. An attendance team might note sudden increased absences and might know they should flag a homeless liaison.

In many cases, further conversations reveal that a family recently lost housing, cannot afford basic necessities or lacks reliable transportation to school.

California received just over $14 million in McKinney Vento dollars during the 2025-26 school year, distributed among 151 of the state’s more than 900 school districts and 58 county offices of education. An additional $1.5 million was allocated to support the state’s technical assistance center, jointly managed by the Los Angeles, Contra Costa and San Diego county offices of education. The homeless liaisons for each of these three large counties answer questions submitted by liaisons or school staff from other districts, help train new liaisons and offer webinars on McKinney Vento requirements, among other things.

Because federal funding for student homelessness nationally has remained flat nationwide for at least three years — about $129 million annually — advocates say California cannot rely on significant increases from Washington.

The state’s $116 million will “signal to other states that there’s a way forward, but also that, within California, this is one-time funding that will help really show policymakers and educators that this needs to be the new normal in California,” said Duffield. “Because there’s no indication that homelessness is going to be down significantly in the next couple years.”

A proof of concept

Supporters of the new funding point to the federal American Rescue Plan-Homeless Children and Youth, known as ARP-HCY, as an example of the difference dedicated funding can make.

Starting in 2021, through the ARP-HCY program, school districts nationwide received $800 million in one-time Covid-19 relief funding, including $98.76 million for California. Districts used the money to hire homeless liaisons and support staff, provide emergency housing assistance, expand after-school programs and connect families with basic services.

But when the federal government announced in 2024 the funding would not be replenished, some of those programs began ending as well.

Homeless student advocates say California’s new $116 million allocation creates a new opportunity to demonstrate the value of dedicated funding, while also highlighting the challenges of relying on one-time grants.

“I think there’s a lot of lessons to be learned from ARP-HCY,” said Duffield. “How the funds go out, what they can be used for, how the actual disbursement is being tracked. All of that from the get-go.”

If districts can demonstrate measurable results, the hope is lawmakers will make the funding permanent, said Olmos.

“Our North Star has not changed. There has to be dedicated funding to this group that is safe in California moving forward,” she said. “So we have a window to prove that this is a wise investment, and we are really hoping that we don’t lose it.”

Spain is going back to the World Cup final, after defeating France 2-0 in a dominant semifinal performance.

It was a tough end for France, which had entered this tournament as a favorite, after winning the 2018 World Cup and losing to Argentina in the 2022 final. But France had no match for Spain, which has only allowed one goal this World Cup — and has not been beaten in two years (a 37-game streak: 28W - 9D - 0L).

In fact, neither team had trailed in this World Cup until a Spanish penalty kick in the 21st minute put them up 1-0. Spain got another goal in the 58th minute to seal the victory and managed to stifle the stellar French attacking trio of Kylian Mbappé, Ousmane Dembélé and Michael Olise. Mbappé had entered the game as the tournament leader in the Golden Boot race (eight goals and three assists, just ahead of Argentina's Lionel Messi with eight goals and two assists).

Spain, the reigning European champion and 2010 World Cup winner, enters Sunday's final on a high note and will play the winner of Wednesday's semifinal between Argentina and England.

France will have one more game to play, the third-place match against the losing team of the other semifinal on Saturday.
Copyright 2026 NPR

Maria Franco has lived in the Park Royale Mobile Home Community for 25 years, in the Van Nuys neighborhood in north Los Angeles. The community has just under 150 rectangular homes, lined up neatly on a large field of mostly asphalt, with fruit trees popping up here and there.

Two years ago, Franco faced a string of bad luck. The 65-year-old lost her long-time job packing orders at a distribution company when it abruptly moved to another county, a commute too far for her to make.

Then her hot water heater clonked out, so she hauled warm water from her stovetop to her bathroom, scooping it over her head for a shower.

“I was depressed,” Franco said in Spanish. “I was in shock.”

The Southern California summer bore down harshly where she lived in the San Fernando Valley, its temperatures regularly 10 to 15 degrees higher than those on the coast.

To cool off, Franco relied on a fan and a partially functional window air conditioning unit. When her adult kids and grandchildren came by, they found the heat inside oppressive.

A knock on her door changed all that. A young contractor named Ben Shamoon stood on her step, wanting to know if he could install a new water heater, and an HVAC system that both cooled and heated her home. The cost to Franco? Absolutely nothing.

Heat pump customer, Maria Franco, outside her home in Van Nuys on June 11, 2026.

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“It was an inexplicable experience, a blessing from heaven,” Franco said.

Shamoon won over customers by canvassing trailer parks. By working with families who lived in close proximity, he could buy in bulk and work more efficiently to complete projects faster. The approach maximized incentives from a state program — aimed at supercharging heat pump adoption — to improve homes at no cost to owners.

He found a climate solution with a lot of wins — for customers, tradespeople and the planet. The approach cracked the nut of one way to bring heat pumps, which run on electricity rather than gas, to low-income Californians.

Best of all, Shamoon brought safety and comfort to families.

Cold calls to San Diego

In July of 2024, Shamoon was working to get his home upgrading business Bryge, then called LivSmart Home Services, off the ground. Tons of state and federal money was flowing to homeowners and contractors at the time through an initiative called TECH Clean California, to help deploy appliances like heat pumps that cut pollution. Low-income customers received the highest incentive.

Shamoon is based in Los Angeles, but the government incentives in the current funding cycle were exhausted in most parts of the state. He saw that there was some money left — about a million dollars to install heat pump water heaters for low-income customers in San Diego.

Shamoon often passed by a mobile home community at the end of his street. One day, an idea came: why not pitch mobile homeowners on the upgrades?

He could install the units at no cost to the customer and the roughly $8,885 incentive per job would be enough to pay for the equipment, labor, permits and profit.

Shamoon and a colleague found a list of San Diego mobile home parks and started cold-calling managers’ offices. Most said no, he could not go door to door, hoping to keep predatory schemes away from residents. Shamoon’s offer of free upgrades was hard to believe.

But a few said yes.

Door-knocking his way through each community, Shamoon picked up clients.

He found that — along with a higher concentration of potential customers — the mobile home parks were home to many families who made under 80% of the median income in the area, which meant they qualified for state assistance, and higher incentives.

“We started to see a trend,” Shamoon said. Not only did most customers qualify for incentives, but like Franco, they needed the help.

He met senior citizens who’d been living without working hot water heaters for months. And people with no air conditioning on days when outside temperatures exceeded 100 degrees.

“It was just one door after the next, after the next,” Shamoon said. He started to see his work as not just about comfort, but about dignity.

As installations began, Shamoon stumbled on wins. Sending contractors to one community cut down on commute times and meant he could get three to four jobs done in a day, as opposed to just one or two. He could bulk order supplies and get lower prices.

After he and his colleagues first canvassed mobile home parks, word traveled fast through the tightknit communities.

People who had initially turned his company away visited their neighbors’ homes and were assured that they had indeed paid nothing for their fancy new appliances. They called Shamoon back and wanted in.

For most customers who had older, inefficient air conditioners and live in hot, dry areas, their monthly bills went down noticeably.

While walking through a neighborhood in Van Nuys, Ben Shamoon (right), founder of Bryge and LivSmart Home Services, showed Evan Kamei, a director at Energy Solutions, one of the ways he creates social media and word of mouth awareness for Bryge.

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The process was not without challenges: electrical panels in some homes did not have capacity to power the upgrades. Different mobile home parks had restrictive rules about where appliances could be placed on the outside of homes.

But Shamoon was not deterred. He repeated the process, adding installations of heat pumps to warm and cool homes.

In the beginning, he worked with homeowners of all income levels, as there were incentives for people with high incomes too, but he eventually zeroed in on low-income homeowners.

Wealthier clients proved high-maintenance, despite getting free appliances, he said. Low-income families were incredibly grateful, and experienced a dramatic improvement in their quality of life.

Hundreds of miles north in Oakland

Consultant Evan Kamei started to take notice.

He had never met Shamoon, nor heard of his company before he started seeing its name pop up on spreadsheets. Kamei works in Oakland for Energy Solutions, an environmental consulting company that implements the state’s incentive program.

He keeps track of where heat pumps are being installed and how that impacts customer bills.

Kamei realized more and more mobile homeowners were participating in the program thanks to Shamoon.

His company has installed the majority of the roughly 1,500 TECH-funded heat pump HVAC and water heaters in mobile homes statewide. California’s incentive program has funded about 80,000 heat pump installations on all types of homes.

In Franco’s mobile home park, Shamoon has completed 38 projects.

“That’s the beauty of having a market-based solution of enabling contractors to figure out something that could work,” Kamei said, reflecting on contractor creativity, “It’s not something you typically see with an incentive program like this.”

A lot of wins, and some limits

What Shamoon is doing, swapping gas-powered heating and cooling for electric versions of appliances, lowers carbon pollution by pulling from the state’s mostly green grid. But it also could improve indoor air quality.

Esperanza Sanchez is breathing easier after she upgraded her HVAC system to a heat pump with Shamoon’s help. Sanchez lives in the Blue Star Mobile Home Park in the San Fernando Valley’s Sylmar neighborhood.

Sanchez had previously avoided using her gas heater because it triggered her asthma. “It stung my nose and I couldn’t stand it,” Sanchez said in Spanish. After making the switch, she said her respiratory issues were gone.

Maria Franco’s heat pump takes just 15 minutes to cool down her two-bedroom home on a scorching day.

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“It’s a public health thing. It’s an equity thing,” said Ethan Elkind, a UC Berkeley lawyer and policy researcher who’s studied how low-income Californians can adopt more planet-friendly appliances.

“It’s almost a human rights thing in these really hot climate zones — giving people access to reliable air conditioning,” Elkind said. “It checks a lot of boxes for what we need to do.”

But there are limits to this solution. There’s no way for the state to provide incentives for every low-income Californian to make the switch. California has doled out more than $219 million so far, but bringing electric appliances to all low-income residents would cost in the hundreds of billions of dollars, Elkind said, money the state does not have.

A settlement from a 2016 gas leak in the San Fernando Valley will funnel roughly $30 million in incentives to nearby residents through TECH starting late this summer. It’s unclear when these funds will again be available for Californians who live outside that region, and are not eligible for the settlement money.

One way to stretch the state’s limited funds is to use public dollars to attract private investors, Elkind said. Under this model, the state pays the interest upfront — giving low-income homeowners access to no-interest loans — and covers the loss if a borrower defaults. This safety net eliminates risk for private lenders, allowing them to finance the initial equipment upgrades. Homeowners would then pay back the loan principal over time, using the savings many see from now lower utility bills.

But that could only go so far. National policies incentivizing heat pump adoption like those in the Biden Administration’s Inflation Reduction Act, done away with under the Trump Administration’s tax bill, would need to be reinstated to achieve large-scale adoption.

Reaching renters is another story. Gas appliances are cheaper upfront. So landlords have little financial incentive to make the switch — while there are bill savings, those go to renters.

Elkind said achieving this shift would take policies like those slated to roll out in the Bay Area in 2027, requiring all new water heater installations be electric.

The most glaring limit is California’s high cost of electricity. For many, monthly bills for a gas appliance are lower than electric alternatives. But for Californians like Franco, who replaced old, inefficient window air conditioners, their bills often go down. That’s because new technologies use less energy to do the same – and often a better – job.

Cool air, hot showers

Three months after that knock on her door, Franco watched two men install her new water heater. It had been half a year since she had the ability to step into her shower, turn a knob and have hot water come out.

“That first time using the shower was beautiful,” Franco said.

A month later, she welcomed a new mini-split heating and cooling unit, blowing crisp air in her living room.

The single unit is powerful enough to transform her two-bedroom home from oppressive to refreshing in just 15 minutes.

Before the changes, her gas bill, which covered her furnace, water heater and stove, was $40 to $50 per month. It is now just $10. Her electricity bill went from $150 to around $80. The savings are meaningful given her monthly social security benefits of $1000.

Without Shamoon and his coworkers, Franco would have never learned about the state incentives, and never made the change.

“When I needed help the most, it came,” Franco said. “If it weren’t for them, we’d be suffering from the heat.”