The Brief

As President Joe Biden today bowed to the growing chorus of elected Democrats and Democratic voters calling for him to exit the 2024 race, everyone is taking another good hard look at Kamala Harris.

“Today I want to offer my full support and endorsement for Kamala Harris to be the nominee of our party this year, ” Biden wrote in a social media post, calling his selection of Harris to be his vice president “the best decision I’ve made.”

Vice presidents rarely get much attention. What attention Harris has gotten on the job hasn’t been particularly positive. Counter to the reputation she cultivated early on in her career as a pragmatic politician and sharp-minded prosecutor, public opinion on Harris soured in the summer of 2021 and has mostly stayed sour.

That was in part thanks to the White House saddling her with a series of unenviable and intractable tasks. Beyond that her role, like that of most vice presidents, has been high on profile, but low on actual responsibility. It’s a job perhaps best described by fictional Veep Selina Meyer as the political equivalent of being “declawed, defanged, neutered, ball-gagged, and sealed in an abandoned coal mine.”

Nor was Harris faring much better with voters in her home state. Last year 59% of California voters in a Berkeley Institute of Governmental Studies poll said they would not welcome her on the top of the ticket.

But now that Harris is being considered as the most likely substitute for Biden, more voters seem to be warming to her. A fresh Washington Post poll found that the vast majority of Democratic voters nationwide would be “satisfied” with Harris at the top of the ticket. The same poll found her narrowly beating Trump in a head-to-head election among registered voters.

And so the nation is catching itself back up to speed on all things Harris — and that means catching up on a life of accomplishment and controversy here. More than any other vice president in generations, Kamala Harris’ biography is singularly Californian.

Born in Oakland, bussed to school in Berkeley, tested by San Francisco’s cutthroat municipal politics and propelled onto the national stage as the state’s top law enforcement officer and then its first female senator of color, Harris’ approach to politics and policymaking were honed here.

Now that voters are reconsidering whether Harris has what it takes to be president of the United States — and as Donald Trump and JD Vance train their oppo-machine upon her — we’re resurrecting this look at her California years and career. Here are nine ways that California shaped Kamala Harris, and that Harris shaped California.

A child of Berkeley

In a state full of transplants, Harris is a lifelong Californian.

She was was born in 1964 in Oakland — the hospital a little over a mile from the city hall where, more than half a century later, she would announce her short-lived 2020 bid for the presidency. Born to immigrant parents who met while getting their PhDs and protesting for civil rights at UC Berkeley, she spent her childhood in Berkeley. Harris’ father, Donald Harris, is from Jamaica and her mother, Shyamala Gopalan, is from India. The couple split when Harris was 7, and Harris and her sister Maya were raised mostly by her mother, who died in 2009.

In the first Democratic presidential debate in 2019, Harris famously skewered Joe Biden — then her campaign rival — for his past opposition to federally mandated busing to desegregate public schools. For Harris, she said, the issue was “personal.”

Specifically, Harris rode the “red rooster” from Berkeley’s working-class flatlands to Thousand Oaks Elementary School at the base of the affluent north Berkeley hills. This was 1969, just one year after Berkeley Unified introduced its “two-way” busing program across its elementary schools. Berkeley being Berkeley, unlike local integration plans across the country, the city had undertaken this one on its own accord.

After the debate dust-up, Harris clarified that she does not support federally mandated busing, a policy stance not so dissimilar from the one she needled Biden over.

Traversing back and forth between different strata of society — black, white and Asian; well-off and working-class — is a familiar trope in Harris’ biography.

“It wasn’t a homogenous life,” said Debbie Mesloh, a friend who has also worked for Harris as a communication director and a consultant. “She’s a very resourceful person in that she can move in between these worlds.”

Vice President Kamala Harris graduated from Howard University in 1986. Her graduating year photo is in the bottom row, second from right.

Harris spent her teenage years in Montreal, moving there with her sister and mother when Gopalan accepted a university research position there. She earned a political science and economics degree at Howard University in Washington D.C. but returned to California to get her law degree in 1989 at the University of California, Hastings in San Francisco.

Until her most recent move to Washington, she called California home.

Fresh out of law school, she joined the Alameda County district attorney’s office in 1990, serving there eight years before crossing the bay to San Francisco. In 2003, she unexpectedly won election as San Francisco district attorney, where she served two terms before her narrow election as state attorney general in 2010. She was elected to the U.S. Senate in 2016.

The influence of king/queen-maker Willie Brown

Former state Assembly Speaker and San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown has helped accelerate many a successful political career in California (including that of Gov. Gavin Newsom). Harris got a boost from Brown, too.

In March 1994, San Francisco Chronicle’s legendary columnist Herb Caen described the scene at Brown’s surprise 60th birthday party. Clint Eastwood was there, wrote Caen, and he “spilled champagne on the Speaker’s new steady, Kamala Harris.” Brown had a reputation for dating much younger women. In his column, Caen described Harris, then a deputy district attorney of Alameda County, as “something new in Willie’s love life. She’s a woman, not a girl.”

The relationship ended after two years, but her connection to Brown, three decades her senior, did have an outsized effect on her career.

Willie Brown and Kamala Harris in 1994.

“I would think it’s fair to say that most of the people in San Francisco met her through Willie,” John Burton, who used to be president pro tem of the state Senate, former chair of the California Democratic Party and a San Francisco political powerhouse in his own right, told Politico.

The speaker gave Harris a couple plum positions on two state regulatory boards — the Unemployment Insurance Appeals Board and the California Medical Assistance Commission. “If you were asked to be on a board that regulated medical care, would you say no?” Harris told SFWeekly a few years later.

Harris’ connection to Brown also helped her make connections across San Francisco high-society and California political elite. In 1996, a year after Brown became mayor and Harris broke off the relationship, she joined the board of trustees at San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

When Harris ran for San Francisco district attorney nearly a decade later, her first contribution came from Elaine McKeon, chair of the museum’s board. More — much more — poured in from donors with last names like Fisher, Getty, Buell, Haas and other noble houses of the Bay Area.

But from the beginning of her political career, Harris has seen her connection with Brown as a liability — a cudgel that opponents can use against her and, at worst, a tired, sexist trope used to question the legitimacy of her ascendant career. In the first run to be San Francisco’s district attorney, Harris deliberately hired a campaign consultant known for working with clients outside the Brown political machine. During that same campaign, she described her past relationship with the former speaker and mayor as “an albatross hanging around my neck.”

As for Brown, he recently told a reporter, regretfully, that he and Harris are no longer in touch.

A lack of clarity

You saw it in the presidential race. You’ve seen it in her as vice president. As the New York Times once put it: “the content of her message remains a work in progress.” We saw it before in California.

While running the California Department of Justice, Harris was often loath to wade into the political battles taking place just a few blocks away in the state Legislature.

There was the bill that would have required her office to investigate police shootings. She did not take a formal position (though she did tell a reporter it would be bad policy). The bill died.

There was the proposal to force police departments to gather data on the ethnicity and race of the civilians they stop. Harris also declined to take a position. It passed anyway.

And on the biggest criminal justice overhaul in California in a generation, Harris also kept mum.

Prompted by a judicial decree that the state had to dramatically cut the population of its overcrowded prison system, “realignment” was a package of state policies passed in 2011 that shifted tens of thousands of inmates out of state custody and into county jails or onto the rolls of local probation systems.

Despite in many ways reflecting the lessons described in her book “Smart on Crime,” which argued that non-violent criminals can be redirected into less punitive systems without jeopardizing public safety, Harris, the state’s top law enforcement officer, was silent on the policy.

That earned a rebuke from the Los Angeles Times Editorial Board, which wrote in its endorsement of her 2016 Senate candidacy that Harris “has been too cautious and unwilling to stake out a position on controversial issues, even when her voice would have been valuable to the debate.”

What some critics call prevarication or flip-floppery, her supporters call pragmatism. Those are just two ways of describing the same quality, said Corey Cook, a political scientist and provost at St. Mary’s College, and a longtime observer of San Francisco politics.

“She’s not an ideologue,” he said, meaning rather than stake out the boldest, ideologically-coherent agenda, she tends to focus on individual fixes to specific problems. Hence the “3am agenda” of her presidential campaign, a collection of policy changes designed to address the problems that keep the average voter up at night.

“The idea that she would have consistent positions on issues informed by ideology isn’t who she is,” said Cook. Harris may appear to pick her battles, he said, because for her “the only lasting solutions are going to be the ones that are able to sustain a majority coalition of support.”

Making a mark: sex crimes, domestic violence, child abuse

Harris has never shied away from the “tough on crime” label when it comes to a certain class of criminals: domestic violence perpetrators, child abusers and sex traffickers.

After nearly a decade in Alameda County and a short stint as a deputy district attorney in San Francisco (she left, calling the leadership there “dysfunctional”), in 2000, Harris joined the San Francisco city attorney’s office under Louise Renne.

Renne said she was looking for someone to head the office’s Child and Family Service unit, which investigates child abuse cases. This was not considered a prestigious post. Prosecutors inside the unit had taken to calling it “kiddie law.”

Renne thought Harris, who had focused on child abuse and sexual exploitation cases in Alameda County, would be a good fit.

That instinct was confirmed on Harris’ first day on the job, Renne said, when a number of children who had been separated from their parents were formally adopted into new families.

“She comes into my office and says ‘Come on, Louise, we’ve got to go over to court. There are going to be adoptions today,’ and she had all these teddy bears,” Renne recalled. “She knew the occasion. She knew it was an important one and it should be celebrated.”

Harris’ focus on the victims of abuse and exploitation continued after she was elected as San Francisco’s District Attorney.

“I don’t know what the term ‘teenage prostitute’ means. I have never met a ‘teenage prostitute.’ I have met exploited kids,” Mesloh, then Harris’ communications director, recalls her boss saying at her first all-staff meeting. Harris then ordered her prosecutors not to use the term in court. A year later, Harris sponsored a bill putting the crime of human trafficking into the state criminal code.

Some Democrats say Harris’ prior life as a prosecutor with a focus on sex crimes would be a key advantage in a potential general election contest against Trump, who has been found liable in a civil case for sexual assault and recently became the first former president to be convicted of a felony. In that case, the 34 counts were related to the falsifying of business records in connection to an alleged sexual encounter with a pornographic film actress.

But using the full force of the law to penalize pimps, traffickers and other abusers has earned Harris some criticism from civil libertarians and from advocates for sex workers.

In one of her final acts as California’s attorney general, Harris had the CEO of Backpage.com, Carl Ferrer, arrested on pimping charges. Backpage was an online classifieds site known for its “adult services” section, which prosecutors had long warned served as a marketplace for sex traffickers.

The arrest was based on a contentious legal argument that pit anti-trafficking fervor against the First Amendment. Since Backpage was merely a platform for ads, its lawyers argued, it was protected by the same law that protects Google from being held liable for illicit websites listed in its search results. A superior court judge agreed and threw out the case, though an amended charge, pursued by Harris’ successor, then-Attorney General Xavier Becerra, led Ferrer to plead guilty to money laundering and conspiracy to facilitate prostitution and to the shuttering of the site.

The Harris mantra: ‘Smart on Crime’

One of the reasons Harris became known as a rising-star District Attorney was her focus on prevention, which she explained in her book, Smart on Crime, written in 2009, the year before she ran for attorney general.

“Public health practitioners know that the most beneficial use of resources is to prevent an outbreak, not to treat it,” Harris wrote. “Instead of just reacting to a crime every time it is committed, we have to step back and figure out how to disrupt the routes of infection.”

Kamala Harris as San Francisco District Attorney on June 18, 2004.

(

Marcio Jose Sanchez

/

AP Photo

)

Harris’ “Back on Track” program, considered the most successful implementation of this idea, redirected first-time, non-violent drug offenders into supervised education, job training courses, therapy sessions and life skills classes. It was a modest program, but a novel one compared to what most other big city law enforcement officers were doing in 2005.

“In that time period, I think that she was a radical,” said Mesloh. The program has since been emulated by cities around the country. When Harris became attorney general, she launched a similar pilot program for Los Angeles County.

Harris’ focus on prevention produced some of her key accomplishments as district attorney. But in the context of the 2020 presidential primary, some of those same accomplishments struck many critics on the left as overly punitive.

The year after launching Back on Track, Harris introduced an anti-truancy initiative. Based on a statistical correlation that chronic class skippers are more likely to be both perpetrators and victims of homicide, Harris’ office began threatening the parents of persistently absent students with prosecution.

Harris has been quick to point out that the “stick” in this carrot and stick approach only came out after a series of escalating interventions, including mandatory meetings with school staff and social workers. No one went to jail under the program, though a handful of parents were fined. Within a few years, city truancy rates fell by a third and Harris took credit.

In 2010 her office sponsored a bill to take the program statewide. In the hands of other district attorneys, the statute was used in at least a handful of cases to put parents behind bars. Critics have said that the policy has been disproportionately wielded against poor parents of color.

In a 2019 interview, Harris said she regretted any “unintended consequences” of the state law.

Harris has (almost) always opposed capital punishment

Her opposition to the death penalty has been one of the most controversial stands in her career, but it’s also an example for those who criticize her lack of consistency.

On April 10, 2004, three months after her inauguration as San Francisco’s new district attorney, 29-year-old police officer Isaac Espinoza was gunned down by a 21-year-old with an AK-47. Three days later, Harris made good on a campaign promise and vowed not to seek the death penalty for the shooter. David Hill was later convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.

The decision engendered a predictably fierce backlash from the police union and rebukes from politicians. “This is not only the definition of tragedy,” Sen. Dianne Feinstein said at Espinoza’s funeral, “it’s the special circumstance called for by the death penalty law.” The assembled officers cheered while Harris remained seated.

Some of Harris’ critics say she has wavered in tougher political circumstances.

In 2014, when a federal court judge ruled that California’s administration of the death penalty was unconstitutional, Harris appealed the decision as state attorney general, arguing that it was “not supported by the law.”

Harris later said that she was obligated to defend capital punishment as the legal representative of the state. Many have pointed out that she was happy not to defend a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage that voters passed in Proposition 8 when it was challenged a year earlier. Harris’ response: She was merely reflecting the position of her client, Gov. Jerry Brown’s administration.

She also explained that the judge’s ruling, which held that the long delays between sentencing and execution in California amounted to “cruel and unusual punishment,” could be used to justify speeding up the state’s system of capital punishment.

Prosecutorial overreach controversies

Both as district attorney and as state attorney general, Harris led offices that criminal justice advocates say was overly aggressive in pursuing convictions and lacked transparency in a way that belies Harris’ brand as a “progressive prosecutor.”

In March 2010, just as Harris was campaigning to become California’s attorney general, San Francisco authorities shut down a police department crime lab in the city’s Hunters Point naval yard. A technician named Deborah Madden was accused of skimming drugs, raising broader questions about the lab’s ability to appropriately handle evidence in criminal cases. (Madden later pleaded guilty).

Harris immediately dismissed 20 drug cases, but the number eventually grew to over 1,500 after documents showed that prosecutors within Harris’ office had known about Madden’s potential unreliability months before the lab was closed, but had neglected to tell defense attorneys.

A superior court judge later excoriated Harris’ office, writing that the violations infringed on the defendants’ constitutional rights.

Afterward, Harris formed a unit to handle the sharing of evidence with criminal defense attorneys. She has also said that she did not know about the problems at the crime lab until after the scandal blew up.

But that hasn’t done much to assuage the concerns of critics who say Harris had a tendency toward prosecutorial overreach, which continued once Harris became the state’s attorney general.

Kamala Harris is sworn in as California’s attorney general on Jan. 6, 2011.

(

Office of the Attorney General of California

)

In 2015, for example, lawyers for an inmate convicted of murder attempted to have the case thrown out after new evidence suggested that Riverside County prosecutors lied on the stand during the initial trial. Harris’ office, representing the state prison system, resisted, only backing down after footage of one of her deputies being eviscerated by three federal judges went viral.

A spokesperson for her since-abandoned presidential campaign said Harris ordered her office to drop the challenge as soon as “she became aware” of the case.

Critics point to other examples. There was her office’s decision to defend a molestation conviction that local prosecutors had secured with a false confession.

Asked about that case, the spokesperson said that it was “long-standing practice” for prosecutors within the Californian Department of Justice to file legal motions without the express approval of the Attorney General, implying that, again, Harris was not aware that her office was making the argument. But in this case, the spokesperson added, state prosecutors believed “the original case…was valid and that the victim in the case deserved justice.”

Another example: her office’s refusal to take over a 2011 Seal Beach mass shooting case after a judge recused the entire Orange County District Attorney’s office for widespread prosecutorial misconduct. Harris defended her decision: “it was being handled at the local level.”

Such a track record is to be expected of any prosecutor, said Sally Lieber, who worked with Harris on human trafficking legislation while representing Mountain View in the state Assembly.

“It is an adversarial system and so she was filling a particular role, but I think that she was able to do it in a very sophisticated, smart and responsive way,” she said.

As California’s AG: Playing hardball

Harris’ biggest accomplishment while California’s attorney general was to secure a financial settlement with some of the country’s largest banks accused of illegally foreclosing on homeowners.

In September 2011, Harris pulled out of ongoing negotiations between attorneys general from nearly every US state and the five banks, calling the proposed deal of $2-to-$4 billion “crumbs on the table.”

Harris was not the first attorney general to walk away, but the departure of the country’s largest state seemed to have its intended effect.

A few months later, with California back in the mix, a new deal was struck. This time, California got $20.2 billion in debt reductions and direct financial assistance.

Still, some consumer groups and outside experts were critical of the deal, arguing that the banks would have been forced to write off much of that bad debt eventually. “All sizzle, no steak,” is how Georgetown law professor Adam Levitin put it.

But Harris’ willingness to play hardball did result in a bigger settlement, said Rob McKenna, former Washington attorney general who was part of the negotiations.

“It’s possible for states to overstate the impact they had on the final settlement. The former New York Attorney General (Eric Schneiderman) would sometimes make claims about the settlement and improvements he had obtained,” he said. “But it’s fair to say that Attorney General Harris negotiated and obtained some improvement in the settlement for California.”

Kamala the campaigner

Harris launched her 2020 presidential campaign high on fanfare and hype, only to flame out less than a year later before even making it to Iowa. It was a historically stark underperformance from a candidate that many Democratic insiders believed would be a formidable contender.

In California, Harris’ electoral track record has been mixed.

Her first spin on the campaign trail was a superlative success. In her 2003 race for San Francisco District Attorney, she pushed out a two-term incumbent and won more votes than any other candidate running for a city-wide office that year.

Harris’ first run for statewide office didn’t go quite smoothly. Her race for Attorney General against Republican Steve Cooley wasn’t called until weeks after Election Day. Yes, Harris won. But she did so by less than a percentage point.

Now, after 18 years in which not a single Republican has won statewide office in California, it’s easy to look back at that nail-biter of an election and see an early sign of Harris’ weakness as a candidate. But at the time, the calculus was a little different. Cooley, a relative moderate, was considered the favorite to win against Harris, a San Francisco liberal. This was 2010, which proved to be a historic landslide election for the GOP. The fact that Harris eked it out despite those headwinds, and as the first woman and person of color to hold that office no less, cemented her status as a rising star in the Democratic Party.

Gov. Gavin Newsom and Democratic vice presidential candidate Sen. Kamala Harris talk as they assess the damage during the Creek Fire at Pine Ridge Elementary on Sept. 15, 2020, in Auberry.

(

Gary Kazanjian

/

AP Photo

)

Also rising was Gavin Newsom. The two were San Francisco friends and ran in the same social circles even before their political careers ignited. They share the same political consultants. And when the two most prestigious California elective offices opened up — for governor and U.S. senator — they sidestepped a ballot rivalry when she successfully ran for the Senate, as did he for governor.

Newsom has said — and recently reiterated — that he would not challenge Harris for the Democratic presidential nomination should Biden withdraw. Although Newsom’s name frequently appears on lists of hypothetical Biden replacements, she is already on the ticket and is seen by many as the heir-apparent.

Regardless, both are publicly saying now, again and again, that they are backing Biden.

This story incorporates prior reporting and interviews from CalMatters’ 2020 election coverage.

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.

(

Josie Huang

/

LAist

)

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.

(

Josie Huang

/

LAist

)

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.

(

Josie Huang

/

LAist

)

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

(

Josie Huang

/

LAist

)

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.

(

Josie Huang

/

LAist

)

“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?"
Copyright 2026 NPR