Business
Paul Oreffice, a Combative Chief of Dow Chemical, Dies at 97
Paul F. Oreffice, who as the pugnacious head of Dow Chemical grew and diversified the company at the same time that he rebuffed Vietnam veterans over Agent Orange, argued that the chemical dioxin was harmless and oversaw the manufacturing of silicone breast implants that were known to leak, died on Dec. 26 at his home in Paradise Valley, Ariz. He was 97.
His family confirmed his death.
Mr. Oreffice (pronounced like orifice) spoke in staccato, fast-paced sentences, and they were often deployed in pushing back against environmentalists, politicians and journalists during an era, the 1970s and ’80s, when the environmental movement was gaining force by focusing on toxic chemicals in the air and water.
Under his 17-year leadership, which included the titles of president, chief executive and chairman, Mr. Oreffice weathered intense controversies.
His public relations instinct was for confrontation, not conciliation. He had an intense dislike for what he perceived as government meddling in business, which he traced to his having grown up in Italy under Mussolini. “I’ve seen what overgoverning can do,” he told The New York Times in 1987. “I was born under a Fascist dictatorship, and my father was jailed by it.”
Mr. Oreffice took the reins of the Dow USA division in 1975, when its public image was tainted from campus protests of the 1960s that had vilified the company as a maker of the incendiary agent napalm, which was widely used in Vietnam.
When Dow pulled out of apartheid South Africa in 1987 under pressure from shareholders, Mr. Oreffice said: “I’m not proud of it. I think we should have stayed and fought.”
In 1977, when Jane Fonda lacerated Dow in a speech at Central Michigan University, not far from Dow headquarters, in Midland, Mich., Mr. Oreffice canceled the company’s donations to the school, writing its president that he could not support Ms. Fonda’s “venom against free enterprise.”
Instead, Mr. Oreffice financed the campaigns of anti-regulation politicians. And he sued the Environmental Protection Agency for surveilling Dow’s sprawling Midland plants from the air when the company refused an on-site inspection.
The case made its way to the United States Supreme Court, which in 1986 ruled against the company, at the time the No. 2 American chemical maker after DuPont. (The companies merged in 2017, then split into three companies.)
In 1983, Rep. James H. Scheuer, Democrat of New York, disclosed that Dow had been allowed to edit an E.P.A. report on the leakage of dioxin, one of the most toxic substances ever manufactured, from the Midland plants into the Tittabawassee and Saginaw Rivers and Saginaw Bay.
E.P.A. regional officials told Congress that their superiors in the Reagan administration ordered the changes to comply with demands made by Dow. Mr. Oreffice, appearing on NBC’s “Today” show, offered a sweeping dismissal.
“There is absolutely no evidence of dioxin doing any damage to humans except for causing something called chloracne,” he said. “It’s a rash.”
His statement brushed aside evidence that dioxin was extremely hazardous to laboratory animals and had been shown in some research to be linked with a rare soft-tissue cancer in humans.
One former Dow president, Herbert Dow Doan, a grandson of the company founder, told a public relations publication, Provoke Media, in 1990 that Mr. Oreffice’s style was not one fine-tuned to mollify critics. “The reason is part ego, part pride,” he said. “Paul is inclined to push his line to the point where some people say he is arrogant.”
There is no question that Mr. Oreffice’s strength of will also uplifted Dow’s businesses, which through the 1970s were overly dependent on basic chemicals like chlorine. When a glut of low-priced petrochemicals flooded the global market in the early 80s, he aggressively reshaped Dow by diversifying into consumer products, such as shampoos and the cleaning fluid Fantastik, and by moving into foreign markets. By 1987, Dow posted a record profit of $1.3 billion (about $3.5 billion in today’s currency).
At the same time, a class-action lawsuit on behalf of 20,000 Vietnam veterans and their families against Dow and other makers of Agent Orange was further tarnishing the company’s image. The suit, filed in 1979, charged that dioxin in Agent Orange led to cancer in combat veterans and genetic defects in their children.
Dow argued that it had made Agent Orange at the request of the government and was not responsible for how it was used. But in 1984, the company and other makers of Agent Orange, without admitting liability, settled the lawsuit for $180 million, with the proceeds going to veterans and their families.
In another controversy, Dow Corning, a joint venture between Dow Chemical and Corning Inc., released documents in February 1992 showing that it had known since 1971 that silicone gel could leak from breast implants it made.
Tens of thousands of women had sued the company, claiming their implants had given them breast cancer and autoimmune diseases. Dow Corning agreed to a $3.2 billion settlement after the company had been driven to file for bankruptcy protection.
In 1999, an independent review by an arm of the National Academy of Sciences concluded that silicone implants do not cause major diseases.
Paul Fausto Orrefice was born Nov. 29, 1927, in Venice. His parents, Max and Elena (Friedenberg) Oreffice, moved the family to Ecuador in 1940 as Mussolini declared war on Britain and France. Paul came to the U.S. in 1945, entering Purdue University with fewer than 50 words of English at his command.
He graduated with a B.S. in chemical engineering in 1949, became a naturalized citizen, and after two years in the Army went to work for Dow in 1953.
“When I walked into Midland, Mich., this was ‘WASP’ country, and I was a ‘W’ but I wasn’t an ‘ASP,’” he told The Washington Post in 1986. “I spoke with an accent and combed my hair straight back, which just wasn’t done.”
Mr. Oreffice represented Dow in Switzerland, Italy, Brazil and Spain before being called back to the Midland headquarters in 1969 and appointed the company’s financial vice president. He became president of Dow Chemical U.S.A. in 1975 and was then promoted to president and chief executive of the parent Dow Chemical Company in 1978. In 1986, he added the title of chairman.
To the astonishment of many observers, Dow poured millions of dollars in the mid-1980s into a public-relations campaign to improve its image, including a new slogan, “Dow let’s you do great things.”
Under company rules, when he reached age 60, Mr. Oreffice stepped down as president and chief executive in 1987. He retired as chairman in 1992.
He is survived by his wife of 29 years, Jo Ann Pepper Oreffice, his children Laura Jennison and Andy Oreffice, six grandchildren and one great-granddaughter.
In retirement, Mr. Oreffice pursued a passion for thoroughbred racehorses, investing in Kentucky Derby starters and spending summers at a home in Saratoga Springs, N.Y. He was a partner in a Preakness Stakes winner, Summer Squall, and a Belmont Stakes winner, Palace Malice.
In 2006, he published a memoir about rising from an immigrant with little English to a corporate titan, titling it “Only in America.”
Business
The rise and fall of the Sprinkles empire that made cupcakes cool
After the dot-com bubble burst in the early 2000s, Candace Nelson reevaluated her career. She had just been laid off from a boutique investment banking firm in San Francisco’s tech startup scene, and realized she wanted a change.
From her home, she launched a custom cake service that soon morphed into an idea for a cupcake-focused bakery. Nelson and her husband — whom she met at the Bay Area firm where she had worked — then pooled their savings, moved to Southern California and together opened Sprinkles Cupcakes from a 600-square-foot Beverly Hills storefront.
The store quickly sold out on opening day in 2005, and over the next two decades, the Sprinkles brand exploded across the country, opening dozens of locations of its specialty bakeries as well as mall kiosks and its signature around-the-clock cupcake ATMs in several states.
“It was an unproven concept and a big risk,” Nelson told the Times in 2013, at which point the business had 400 employees at 14 locations and dispensed upward of a thousand cupcakes a day from its Beverly Hills ATM alone.
But now, the iconic cupcake brand is no longer.
Sprinkles abruptly shut down all of its locations on Dec. 31, leaving hundreds of retail employees across Arizona; California; Washington, D.C.; Florida; Nevada; Texas; and Utah in a lurch with little notice, no severance and scrambling to fulfill a surge of orders from customers clamoring to get their last tastes.
Candace Nelson, the founder of Sprinkles cupcakes, in Beverly Hills in 2018.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Although Nelson long ago exited the company, having sold it to private equity firm KarpReilly LLC in 2012, she shared her disappointment with its fate on social media.
“As many of you know, I started Sprinkles in 2005 with a KitchenAid mixer and a big idea,” Nelson said in the post. “It’s surreal to see this chapter come to a close — and it’s not how I imagined the story would unfold.”
The company, now headquartered in Austin, Texas, made no formal announcement regarding the closures and Nelson has not said more than what she posted online. The company did share a comment with KTLA, saying “After thoughtful consideration, we’ve made the very difficult decision to transition away from operating company-owned Sprinkles bakeries.” Neither Nelson nor representatives of Sprinkles and KarpReilly responded to The Times’ requests for comment.
Sprinkles’ demise comes at a tough time for the food and beverage industry. At brick-and-mortar food retail locations, the non-negotiable ingredient and labor costs can be high. And shifting consumer sentiments away from sugar-filled sweets and toward more healthy and functional options, strained pocketbooks, as well as pushes by federal and state governments to nix artificial colors and flavoring, are creating uncertainties for businesses, those in the food industry said.
A 24-hour cupcake ATM at Sprinkles Cupcakes in Beverly Hills in 2012.
(Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press)
“Over the last 10 years the consumer has wizened up tremendously and is looking at the back of the label and choosing where to spend their sweets,” said David Jacobowitz, founder of Austin-based Nebula Snacks, an online food retailer.
At the same time, it’s also not uncommon for businesses owned by private-equity firms to close on a whim, where relentlessly profit-driven decisions might be made simply to pursue more lucrative projects. In recent years, private-equity deals have been seen to milk businesses for profit by slashing costs and quality, and have appeared to play a role in the breakup of some legacy retail brands, including Toys ‘R’ Us, Red Lobster, TGI Fridays and fabrics chain JoAnn Inc. On the flip side, private equity can help infuse much-needed cash into a business and extend its life.
Stevie León and her co-workers received a text the night before New Year’s Eve informing them the franchise Sprinkles location in Sarasota, Fla., where they worked would close permanently after their shifts the next day.
León, 33, said her position as a scratch baker mixing batter and frosting cupcakes overnight had been a dream job, since she had been searching for ways to develop baking skills without paying for expensive schooling.
“I really thought it was my forever job and it was taken away literally in a day,” she said. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”
Ivy Hernandez, 27, the general manager at the Sarasota store, said that after the news was delivered to her boss, the franchise owner, they rushed to learn their options to keep the store afloat but quickly learned it could be legally precarious to continue operating. The store had been open less than a year.
A nearby corporate store, Hernandez said, had been in disarray for months, with employees contending with broken fridges and lapsed ingredient shipments, as managers implored higher-ups to pay the bills so the business could operate properly.
“It really felt like they were trying to do everything they could to screw everyone over as hard as possible until the end,” Hernandez said.
Sprinkles did not respond to questions about the franchise program or allegations of mismanagement in the lead-up to the closure.
A person walks by Sprinkles on the Upper East Side in New York City in 2020.
(Cindy Ord / Getty Images)
The obsession with tiny cakes in paper cups traces back to an episode of “Sex and the City” aired in 2000 showing Miranda and Carrie savoring cupcakes on a bench outside a West Village bakery called Magnolia’s Cupcakes.
“Big wasn’t a crush, he was a crash,” Carrie says to Miranda as she peels down the wrapper on a cupcake topped with bright pink buttercream frosting. She punctuates the quip by taking a big bite, leaving a glob of frosting on her face.
The scene sparked a tourism phenomenon for the bakery — which went on to create a “Carrie” line of cupcakes — and helped propel the burgeoning cupcake industry and companies like Sprinkles Cupcakes, Crumbs Bake Shop and Baked by Melissa to new heights.
Within a decade there was already talk of a “Cupcake Bubble,” coined by writer Daniel Gross in a 2009 Slate article where he argued that the 2008 economic recession laid the groundwork for a proliferation of cupcake stores across America, because a lot of people could figure out how to make tasty cupcakes cheaply and scale up without a huge capital investment.
Amid the decimation of many other local retail businesses, one could take over storefronts in heavily trafficked areas for cheap. As a result, “casual baking turned into an urban industry,” Gross said.
The cupcake fervor hit its peak when Crumbs, which had started as a single bakery on Manhattan’s Upper West Side in 2003, went public in a reverse merger worth $66 million in 2011. The wildly popular mini-cakes were selling at $4.50 a pop. But it became clear very quickly that it had grown too large, too fast. It closed in 2014 after it lost its stock listing on Nasdaq and defaulted on about $14.3 million in financing.
Analysts at the time said consumers were cooling on opulent desserts and suggested tougher times were ahead for bakeries that focused solely on cupcakes.
But Baked by Melissa has thus far proved those analysts wrong. The company has remained privately owned, and according to its founder, is focused on nationwide e-commerce operations — and on expanding the brand beyond sweets. Founder Melissa Ben-Ishay has gained a following on social media by sharing recipes for nutritious, easy-to-make meals.
“Businesses that prioritize quick value increases to get acquired often crash,” Ben-Ishay told Forbes last year. “We’re committed to maintaining product quality and steady, long-term growth.”
Before its unceremonious and sudden closure, Spinkles company leadership had pushed to diversify its business as part of a strategy to recover from a pandemic-era lull.
Chief Executive Dan Mesches told trade publication Nation’s Restaurant News in 2021 that comparable sales had grown since pre-pandemic years. He said the company had ramped up its direct-to-consumer and off-premises offerings and created a line of chocolates made to look like the tops of their cupcakes. The company also introduced a new franchise program with the goal of opening some 200 locations in the U.S. and abroad over three years.
“Innovation is everything for us,” Mesches said.
Sprinkles was known for, among other things, inventive and somewhat corny methods of customer delivery. Besides the trademark ATMs, the company’s vending machines found at many airports made loud, attention-drawing jingles, drawing dramatic complaints and jokes from TikTok travelers. In the 2010s, the company debuted a custom-built truck — “the Sprinklesmobile” — to deliver cupcakes to cities without physical locations.
Frances Hughes, co-founder of online wholesale marketplace Starch, said there’s no question that gourmet sweet treats are still in vogue. But brick-and-mortar locations are much more risky, with more unpredictability. Having large fixed costs makes a business “extremely sensitive to small changes in traffic or frequency,” while online or e-commerce models can be more flexible.
“I think cupcakes as a product still have demand. But the novelty paths that support that rapid retail expansion have passed,” Hughes said.
When Nelson, the Sprinkles founder, posted her somber message about the closure, she asked people to share memories of the company. Many offered heartfelt responses, her comments flooded with stories, for example, of poor college students making the trek to the Beverly Hills location for a limited number of first-come, first-served free cupcakes.
But many of the comments also criticized Nelson’s sale to private equity.
“You sold it to PE and expected it to not close?? What planet are you living on? I don’t begrudge you for selling as that’s entirely your choice but to think any PE firm cares about a company in the slightest is insanity,” one Instagram user said.
Nicole Rucker, an L.A.-based pastry chef and owner of Fat+Flour Pie Shop, said she didn’t observe a decline in the quality of the product after the private-equity takeover. She has been a longtime admirer of the company, driving up from San Diego to sample the cupcakes when its store opened. The simple attractiveness of the box and the logo, and the consistency in the way cupcakes were decorated, “was inspiring,” she said.
“It had a strong hold on people for years,” Rucker said.
Rucker said however that when a private-equity-owned business shutters, she doesn’t feel sadness: “I would rather give my money to a fellow small-business owner, because I would rather know that every dollar and every sale matters.”
Michelle Wainwright, the owner and founder of Indiana-based bakery Cute as a Cupcake! said that although the niche cupcake industry may no longer be in its heyday — with “Sex and the City” no longer airing and competitive baking show “Cupcake Wars” (which Candace Nelson served as a judge on) now canceled — they are still versatile treats, with great potential for creativity.
And they are sentimental to her, because she uses her grandmother’s recipe.
“Cupcakes are still a winner,” Wainwright said. “It’s my belief that a life with out cupcakes is a life without love.”
Business
Bay Area semiconductor testing company to lay off more than 200 workers
Semiconductor testing equipment company FormFactor is laying off more than 200 workers and closing manufacturing facilities as it seeks to cut costs after being hit by higher import taxes.
The Livermore, Calif.,-based company plans to shutter its Baldwin Park facility and cut 113 jobs there on Jan. 30, according to a layoff notice sent to the California Employment Development Department this week. Its facility in Carlsbad is scheduled to close in mid-December later this year, which will result in 107 job losses, according to an earlier notice.
Technicians, engineers, managers, assemblers and other workers are among those expected to lose their jobs, according to the notices.
The company offers semiconductor testing equipment, including probe cards, and other products. The industry has been benefiting from increased AI chip adoption and infrastructure spending.
FormFactor is among the employers that have been shedding workers amid more economic uncertainty.
Companies have cited various reasons for workforce reductions, including restructuring, closures, tariffs, market conditions and artificial intelligence, which can help automate repetitive tasks or generate text, images and code.
The tech industry — a key part of California’s economy — has been hit hard by job losses after the pandemic, which spurred more hiring, and amid the rise of AI tools that are reshaping its workforce.
As tech companies and startups compete fiercely to dominate the AI race, they’ve also cut middle management and other workers as they move faster to release more AI-powered products. They’re also investing billions of dollars into data centers that house computing equipment used to process the massive troves of information needed to train and maintain AI systems.
Companies such as chipmaker Nvidia and ChatGPT maker OpenAI have benefited from the AI boom, while legacy tech companies such as Intel are fighting to keep up.
FormFactor’s cuts are part of restructuring plans that “are intended to better align cost structure and support gross margin improvement to the Company’s target financial model,” the company said in a filing to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission this week.
The company plans to consolidate its facilities in Baldwin Park and Carlsbad, the filing said.
FormFactor didn’t respond to a request for comment.
FormFactor has been impacted by tariffs and seen its growth slow. The company employs more than 2,000 people and has been aiming to improve its profit margins.
In October, the company reported $202.7 million in third-quarter revenue, down 2.5% from the third quarter of fiscal 2024. The company’s net income was $15.7 million in the third quarter of 2025, down from $18.7 million in the same quarter of the previous year.
FormFactor’s stock has been up 16% since January, surpassing more than $67 per share on Friday.
Business
In-N-Out Burger outlets in Southern California hit by counterfeit bill scam
Two people allegedly used $100 counterfeit bills at dozens of In-N-Out Burger restaurants in Southern California in a wide-reaching scam.
Glendale Police officials said in a statement Friday that 26-year-old Tatiyanna Foster of Long Beach was taken into custody last month. Another suspect, 24-year-old Auriona Lewis, also of Long Beach, was arrested in October.
Police released images of $100 bills used to purchase a $2.53 order of fries and a $5.93 order of a Flying Dutchman.
The Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office charged Lewis with felony counterfeiting and grand theft in November.
Elizabeth Megan Lashley-Haynes, Lewis’s public defender, didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.
Glendale police said that Lewis was arrested in Palmdale in an operation involving the U.S. Marshals Task Force. Foster is expected in court later this month, officials said.
”Lewis was found to be in possession of counterfeit bills matching those used in the Glendale incident, along with numerous gift cards and transaction receipts believed to be connected to similar fraudulent activity,” according to a police statement.
A representative for In-N-Out Burger told KTLA-TV that restaurants in Riverside, San Bernardino and San Diego counties were also targeted by the alleged scam.
“Their dedication and expertise resulted in the identification and apprehension of the suspects, helping to protect our business and our communities,” In-N-Out’s Chief Operations Officer Denny Warnick said. “We greatly value the support of law enforcement and appreciate the vital role they play in making our communities stronger and safer places to live.”
The company, opened in 1948 in Baldwin Park, has restaurants in nine states.
An Oakland location closed in 2024, with the owner blaming crime and slow police response times.
Company chief executive Lynsi Snyder announced last year that she planned to relocate her family to Tennessee, although the burger chain’s headquarters will remain in California.
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